Sigh

It seems that I have a habit of causing heartbreak wherever I go.  It's a history of breaking my own heart over the same mistake (falling for people that don't like me near as much as I like them), and breaking good people's hearts that like me a lot and treat me wonderfully.  I don't know why this is.  I can't explain it.  I don't like it.  I don't know how to change it.  I always think maybe "this time" is different.  And it always turns out the same.  I'd like to think one day it will be just right.  I believe in "it" enough to say that.  But all I've ever known has let me down.  Sometimes, even myself.

I just want to be by myself for a little while.

I promise you couldn't hate me as much as I hate myself right now.

Believe me, I'd like to be a normal person too.

The Raincoat

One of the coolest things I ever remember my mom doing is letting me wear a raincoat when it wasn't raining outside.  I was probably five or six (it was when we lived in St. Louis).  I was looking through the dark, back half of my older sister's closet-- the portion of the closet that held the soon-to-be-hand-me-downs.  I found a pastel purple raincoat, all shiny and squeaky-sounding with a detachable hood. I got so excited about wearing it because it appeared to be just my size and it looked almost brand new, like some gift straight from the gods.  (When you have as many older siblings as I have, mint condition hand-me-downs are an absolute rarity).  Anyway, I remember running downstairs to find mom and showing her what I found, begging her to let me wear it that day.  She let me try it on--JUST MY SIZE!!! I KNEW IT WOULD BE!!!! AHHHH!  I loved it.  I asked her if I could wear it, to which she responded, "But it's not raining today!...  Next time it rains, you can wear it.  How about that?"  I was devastated.  All the plans.  Thwarted.  Instead of being enveloped in a shiny, scientific, purple miracle coat, running through a field of flowers, flying kites and having butterflies land on my nose, I would have to wait till some other day--a rainy, groggy one that would arrive some time in the future.  Supposedly.  (It almost never rains when you want it to...)  I started to cry a little bit.  I had just gotten so excited about it too quickly.  My mom sort of snickered at me, paused and said, "Baby, I mean you can wear it today... If you really want.  If it means that much to you."

I wore the coat that day and it was so sunny.  I was probably shriveling ants all over the world with the reflection, but I remember it being the best day ever.  I wonder if my mom knows what a big deal that was.  She had retracted her desire to have me look respectable, like all the other kids sucking on their fingers and picking their nose.  I just got to be me for a day, wearing my little rain coat....  I wish I still had that little raincoat....

If I ever have kids, I want to let them pick out their own clothes a large part of the time.  Not always.  But whenever they want to, I want to let them be exactly who they want to be.  Not enough people in this world were raised that way.  The amount of freedoms you give to a person who is in the business of discovering themselves can never be redone.

And now to put the mushiness to rest, here's a video of a giant pigeon.

Sense of Smell and Anything Unordinary

Two completely unrelated things.

1.  My sense of smell is far too strong for my own good.  I attribute that to the deviated septum, which apparently is a one-way signal straight to my abnormally memory-infused gray matter.  Such a burden.  I shook someone's hand tonight and happened to scratch my face for some reason and smelled the person...  Weeyurd.  I couldn't decide whether to wash my hands five times to ensure the smell was gone or to just leave it be.  I'm still deciding apparently.  I remember certain people in my past having a particular smell, but I can never quite remember what it was.  I wonder if I would recognize it and if all the emotions would come back with the smell. Smell is such a strong sense.  It's a pity my nose is so Jewishly broken.  Not that Jews have big noses...

2.  I've been thinking about something lately.  I thrive on looking forward to things, surprises, random happenings.  Anything unordinary.  Which drives me to get tattoos on Valentine's Day, get my nose pierced on a whim, and chop my hair off whenever I get too bored.  I've always known this fact, but just gone along with it.  But I've been thinking today about my past.  The happiest I've admittedly been (that I remember) was when I was in a relationship.  That's not to say that I don't like being by myself.  For example, I ate Waffle House by myself just now and loved it (minus the onions that played hide and seek with me in my hashbrowns...  I finally gave up).  The first time I was happy, I was in a long-distance relationship.  The human aside, I was going out of town every other weekend, experiencing "new" things nonstop.  The second time I was happy, I had to keep quiet about everything.  It was like some secret game I was playing.  I haven't had a "normal" relationship in over five years.  I haven't even really liked a normal human being that liked me back in a normal, mature way in over five years.  And it makes me wonder how strong my drive actually is for something unordinary.  I feel like I should settle down with some fat guy who works in a cubicle and plays golf for fun just to tame me...  I think I would commit suicide.  It's not that I'm unhappy now.  Everything about my life is crazy and free to do whatever I want.  I have no ties.  There are things to look forward to.  I would think that it is exactly what I want.  But there are no goals.  I'm already tired of the nose ring.  I'm already tired of my short hair.  I wish I'd buzzed it.  I wish I'd kept it long.  I wish I was a black girl with an afro for a day.  The thing is, I can only create so many "unordinary" things for myself to experience.  Eventually, I'm going to be old and there won't be much to look forward to.  At this point, I feel that looking forward to things is the only reason that I keep going.  Whenever I get down, I comfort myself with the fact that things "won't always be the way they are now" or that "you don't know what will happen next; maybe it will be what you've been waiting on!"  The thing is, I'm starting to see that this could be a problem.  Because I will eventually get tired of any human.  And I'm starting to wonder why anyone hangs out with me in the first place; I know myself all too well--nothing surprises me much about even myself any more.  And all outside situations are circumstantial. The bottom line is, I can only create so many things to look forward to.  Eventually, I ought to realize that I'm setting myself up for disappointment if the things I look forward to don't pan out so well.  In the same way, I'm setting myself for unavoidable disappointment if the things I look forward to do pan out well...  Because I can only look forward to things for so long.  Eventually, I'll get bored with the idea of always looking forward and not enjoying things while I'm in them.  I dwell too much in the past and in the future.  The present almost always looks boring.  And if not now, wait...  It will soon.  I'm not trying to be depressing.  Just noticing that I have some major flaws to work through.  Does any of this make sense, or am I just thinking way too hard about myself?  Am I being selfish to even think this much about this issue?

Dude.  I need a good time.  Real soon.  A chill pill.  A relaxation brownie.  A turkey.  A honeyed ham.  A fresh bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios with bananas.  Full circle.  Get behind me, Satan.

New Landscapes

I feel at peace now.  

I feel fairly happy.

I feel like myself.

I never know if that means I'm at the right place at the right time or if that means I'm supposed to start over, now that I'm stable enough to move, etc. 

Where would I move?  What do I value after all?

I'm getting school out of the way so that I'm not tied down to any one place.  But come May, my options are open.  I know I don't want to stay any one place too long.  Maybe I'll save up money and fly North for a week or two, before I decide.  Just to see.  Next summer.  

I have no idea where I'll end up or what I will be doing, but I'm excited to find out, and content to be here in Shreveport for a little while until then.

You know.  I'd like to know what I'll think when I look back two years from now on this time.  If I'll say I should've done everything within my power to be all right and forget.  Or if I'll applaud myself for waiting on something.  I don't know what I'm waiting on.  I can't convince myself that it will all be better in two years.  I mean, it will be better.  But I think a piece is genuinely missing.  It feels odd to just subconsciously hand out something that I hold so dear to me.  Do I think it's something to be chased--what left me? Do I think it's better in the long run?  I can mostly honestly say, "No."  Does that make it any easier?  Absolutely not.  I don't want to forget about it.  I don't wish it hadn't happened.  I don't know what would make it better.  I just don't know.

Sank You, Sank You

I honestly kind of dreaded posting on here just now.  For some reason, I'm sort of ashamed.  Whether that be shame at my embarrassment for not posting in two months (sorry :/) or because I don't really have anything worthwhile to say or for some unspoken reason (which is the reason I'm leaning more towards honestly), I'm not sure... I don't want to talk about it.

I signed on just now with this sense of retreat, this shame, like I was returning to some familiar vice due to the horizon not turning out quite as intriguing as I thought it looked. However, I saw that I had nine views today.  Some of you are in Russia and could be using a translator right now to read this post because it looks so interesting....  Actually, you probably know more languages than me and can speak better English than I can.  (Sorry, little Russian friend, whoever you are! :) )  But just knowing that there are still people checking up on me--though I've been largely mute over the last two months--was encouraging for some odd reason.  So thank you, so much.  You made me feel like the retreat was welcome and that my absence was missed.  You all are awesome, whoever you are. :)

Okay, enough gushy stuff.  Honestly.

There is a point where one starts looking ridiculous, by the way. I don't know which braid was the one that just put it over the top, but uh.

The Intermission

What to say......

Feelings aren't stupid. But they are stupid.

I want to write something that says I don't care. That I'm happy. That I don't get hurt. I wish I were that person.

I can't fake certain things. I can't fake them enough to believe them. I want to retreat. I want to hide. I want to run back to things. I want to move. I want to cling. I want to quit. I want to start fresh. I want to start writing. I want to stop writing.

I want something.

I just want everyone to be happy. They have their gangs that they cling to. The frickin crew. I was never a part. I was never invited. And that's okay, but I can't say it hasn't always bothered me. I try so hard, but I'm just different. I don't have a problem being different. But sometimes, I do feel very, very alone. The thing is, I just want a close friend. I want a best friend. I feel like everyone has left me, and in the process, I'm not really sure where I stand. What I stand for. Who I am. I believe so much in friendship and love and beauty and fun. I just want something that I don't have. I have a lot. I have more than I realize, and I realize this. I just feel alone. And I see no way of changing that.

Rarely, do I need anyone. But that open knowledge makes me feel very alone when I do need someone and no one is there. I seem to have run everyone off; I seem to have tons of acquaintances and hardly anyone that really is that close to me.

I don't know what I am doing or what I want to do.