Tag: solitude

Backwards and Late

I should be sleeping but I am beyond wide awake right now.

Tomorrow I will once again feel the dreary and the drudge of the day, but that is still a very long few hours away.

It take me until bedtime to wake up, to get the gist of the day, to get in the swing of the hang.

I spend the day in a haze, steering through the fog of the motions, until it is finally time to call it quits.  When I can give my mind peace and solitude, it start the race it pumps the gas, it competes against the unseen assailants of the nights, like a ninja in the darkness the brain races to a start line, the end nowhere in sight.

Some day I will catch on to the rhythm of the living. For now, I follow the drums of the night.

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Alone in the middle of the city

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I love to be alone.  Not always, not everyday, but sometimes I want to be utterly alone.  I don’t want to talk to anyone, I don’t want to see anybody. I want to feel separated from humanity, to be included in nothing except my own thoughts, feelings, impressions, and inspirations.  It has nothing to do with depression, anger, or disappointment.  Its not about love lost, betrayal, or bitterness.  It is that I simply like to be with only myself.

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Its hard to be alone, to find solitude and peace in the active city.  More so with roommates whom are often home because you live in a cold, expensive city.  Fortunately for my lonely tastes, my backyard dead ends directly with the graveyard.  There is a tall concrete wall separating the world of the living with the damnation of the deceased.  Walk around the block, and on the other side is an entrance into a silent, distant world.  A life that is not visited by many living souls, a quite village, a silent dance party.  I can stroll a brief 10 minutes around the block and enter a world where I can find complete solitude in the middle of an early almost- warm spring day.  Trapped within the tall and cool concrete walls, even the sounds of the passing cars and stopping busses are muted.  So quickly and easily the city life is reduced to simply myself.  Within these silent walls I walk through all that remains of so many lives, the repayments of a history of people are boiled down to two dates, a slab of marble, and if you are lucky a short quote or if you are really lucky a giant, out dated statue.

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The cemetery during the day does not provoke feeling of creepiness, danger, or uncertainty.  Exposed under watchful glare of father sun, the cemetery inspires serenity, introspection, and reflection.  The weight of the stones change the magnitude of oneself, challenges your notion of your place on history’s timeline.  Its impossible not to see your existence as just a snapshot in time.

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Wandering alone, slightly cold, with my scarf wrapped all the way down my wrists, curling around my red fingers, I seek out the patches of sunshine, avoid the patches of shadow created by the old tall trees and the cold tall marble statues.  I find a small flowering tree.  Its branches reach down toward the ground and are speckled with tiny white flowers.  The tree is peaceful, serene, perfect in the graveyard.  So still and so beautiful.  Instantly, I want this to be a place for a ceremony of marriage.  I know that sounds creepy, but I just explained how its so perfect.  IMG_9902IMG_9908IMG_9914

the lights are off, but everyone is home

I have been off work for a little over a month now, and I am still waiting to get bored.  I haven’t been doing much, socializing mostly with the family- trying to get as much time as I can with my new niece, getting to know my future sister in law, appeasing mums by having time for her, trying to get time to see my over worked and busy twin brothers.  I have seen a few friends, but I haven’t made too strong of an effort to reach out to acquaintance friends whom could be real friends if I made any sort of effort to hang out.  That is because I am still waiting for boredom, still waiting to get sick of sitting around, sleeping, exploring the internet, and cooking.  Also playing with the cat and keeping the house clean like a 1950’s housewife.  Not only is the house spotless, but I look good while doing my feminine chores.  Not because I am practicing being a perfect wife, its all for me.  I like the house clean, and I like to wear a matching nice pj-type outfit because it feels nice.

I still cannot even think about going to back to the grind, giving up my physical body and all my mental energy on a job where the pay is absolute crap and getting a good position is like getting a bullseye in darts.  I like playing darts, but if even hit the damn board I feel successful.  I have had a couple of offers, but I turned them down without a blink of the eye, before checking my bank account and realizing how much money I am losing on a daily basis by not having a paycheck.  Well its not that much, but that meager paycheck was a lot better than nothing.  But still, there is not enough motivation in this world presently to get me to even think about going back into the kitchen day after bleak day.  There is a job out there now that looks great, and I really should at least apply for it, but simply cannot.  I do not want to go back yet.  I want another month.  At least.  Like so many other people, I have worked and worked for a long time to get where I am today.  Which career wise is absolutely nowhere.  I have one of the worst jobs in America, and I worked very hard to get here.  My tires are stuck in the mud, and no amount of working for free or for the best restaurants, or constantly staging and looking for new opportunities has made one bit of difference. Maybe if the payoffs were better I would feel more equipped to start looking for a new master.

So no, I do not feel bad or lazy or a waste of space by staying home all day, minding my own simple business of keeping myself fed and keeping the house glorious.  Maybe after two months I will forget the hardships associated with my chosen career and be ready to begin afresh.  Maybe I will go into sales and find a whole new set of reasons to hate a job.  I want to love what I do, but its so hard when you don’t get breaks, can’t sit down, can’t use the cellphone to talk to your boyfriend that you never get to see cuz you are working nights and weekends, and get yelled at about how fucking terrible you are at mopping the floor.  I once had so much passion that it was fine to be treated like an immigrant without rights.  That passion has been reduced down so far that yes, I am thinking abut if about going into a sales position.  Fuck that girlish dream to never sell out, to help improve peoples lives in a way that I know how to, to follow my heart.  I have been close to giving up for a year now, and the time might just be ripe.  I don’t want to throw in the towel, but I guess nobody does.  And its not just the money, or lack of dignity that is causing this change, its physical. My body hurts, my back is fucked up, I need to see a doctor on a regular basis just to get healthy again.

I just don’t care.  No fucks given.  I should care about my rapidly diminishing funds, and be more frugal, but I don’t care.  I am doing whatever I want to do.  Nothing reckless like buying new cloths or going to the club, but if I want to stop at the bar for two drinks, or get a damn burrito, then fuck it.  I am not going to waste this precious precious vacation counting pennies.  I am been conservative and way too concerned about every damn dollar for way too long.  Its annoying to care so much.  I have reached the end of trying to be responsible and save and think about retirement or that proverbial rainy day.  The switch has been flipped, and for now, the lights are staying off.