I've decided to leave my "snapshots" of my life as is. Disregarding the original intention to edit out my past sappy, naive thoughts - here's to you, my friend. I'm inclined to agree with your assessment. While I may look back and think, "Hey, yeah...naive romanticism? I'm done with you"...at the time I was perfectly happy and everything I felt was, in truth, as I portrayed it. While I might think those thoughts naive now, they were still a part of me and how I grew from my experiences. As you said, it was a part of my life - why edit my life? If nothing else, it will portray a frame of reference to show, I hope, growth.
I haven't written my thoughts in a long while. That always seems to be the phrase when I get back to blogging ..."it's been awhile". Why are my breaks so long, and my writings so sporadic? I think this stems from the simple fact that I use writing as an outlet. As such, much like the prayers of the desperate, my writings are a procreation of stress, extreme emotions, and hard times in my life. On the other hand, they're also a product of wonderful times in my life. I think the biggest factor would be extreme emotions - good or bad, they inspire me to put those feelings into words...almost as if my petite self simply isn't enough of a vessel to hold such strong feelings.
I was once told my blog seemed like a "stream of unfiltered, unfettered consciousness". I not only found that comment interesting, but was...flattered? I don't think that's quite the right descriptor for the emotion, but I found it an intriguing notion to point out. Perhaps because I always associated "blogging" with online journalling? Why would there be any other way to write? I suppose most people have the idea to go in and edit their thoughts...but a) I'm too lazy and b) why? Your thoughts come and go for a reason. If you have the compulsion to share them, then do! At least, that's how I feel. I'm generally proud of the things that my brain procures, though...I think pride is a problem of mine when it comes to writing or giving advice.
I can't decide if it's odd - my compulsion...nay, almost NEED, to mother and advise. If I don't have friends approaching me with their troubles, I feel as if I sometimes seek them out - simply to give them advice on it. Firstly, I love giving advice. I feel as though I'm able to take an objective viewpoint on most issues and offer something thought-provoking. I love knowing I helped my friends reach a conclusion or solution. When friends are sick, I can't help but bring soup or tea or berate them with "DRINK FUCKING LIME" adages. I feel a responsibility to help those I love whenever I see them less than par. I feel a responsibility to tell those I love when they're being idiots also. Is it odd that I crave to listen to others people's problems? I think my motherly compulsions are coupled with the fact that other's troubles distract me from my own stresses. I love that.
My own stresses...I'm having a hard time distinguishing between selfish and petty or warranted. I relish the idea of being my own adult - supporting myself, having my own place, but meanwhile contributing still to the family because HEY, responsibilities don't just disappear because you continue to grow. BUT! Every time I consider that...I can't help but feel selfish. I realize the dynamic of the age is for kids my age to be considered "adults" and ready to take on the world...but honest to God, some kids my age should REALLY be back at home with mom.
TANGENT? I keep writing every time as everytime....this needs to be fixed. STAT.
I feel as if I'm trying to swim as well as Phelps...in a pool of thick, fucking mud. TF?! For reference? Mud = confusion. Color me befuddled! In almost every aspect at this point. Let me make a handy list:
1. I no longer know if I want kids - whether they be my own or adopted...there's so much I want to do, and having already almost raised 6 of them? I'm not sure if I want to do that all over again...there's so little time! As incited as I may be to be there for others, selfless if you will, I'm still a selfish bitch at times. Let it be known!
2. I know I want to get married, but am wary of whether that will ever happen...I'm a hopeless romantic deep down and the beating of reality has humbled that part of me into near oblivion. To be continued...
3. If I call dreams a pipe dream, does that make me a pessimist? I always prided myself on being pragmatically optimistic (oxymoron? ...not that I really care...) - does choosing the most practical, lucrative career path (that I'm guaranteed to succeed at and have a love for) make me a pussy? I'd consider what I really dreamed of doing a pipe dream. Me? Broadway? Elphaba? SHIT. We all know it ain't gonna happen. If nothing else, accounting will set me up for any business oriented career I so choose...even planning! Singing and me? I don't think it was meant to be.
4. I'm not quite sure what will make me happy anymore.
5. More than anything else, I know I love my brothers and sisters more than anything else in this world...everything I consider revolves around that and leaves me wondering whether I'm running away or growing up, and if I owe them more than that if it's the latter...or...what?
6. I think I'm just going crazy and for all the "breaks" I claim I need...I'm not sure it's doing me any real benefit. I'm craving for the regime of a semester in session. I'm afraid I have no real grace under fire, except for maybe the semblance of keeping my head on straight, when in fact, I'm the personification of turmoil.
I think I have whatever disease is defined as "overly self-analyzing". I can't stop, and it keeps leading me into a circle of logic. I'm trying to integrate all points of views...but all I can come up with is I'm innately selfish...but with motherly tendencies? How is it I can handle confrontation on anyone else's behalf, but not mine? Hold up, let me backpedal a second - I handle my own fights sometimes, but generally only with other people. I'm not good at handling rows within my own family. I feel as if I've closed myself off the past couple of days - as if I'm slowly pulling into my shell, coming up with decisions on my own, and waiting for the right moment to spring them on everyone. I also feel like my mind is trying to repress these logic self-discussions as it sifts through them. I don't think that made any real sense, but hey, I tried.
I think insomnia is a byproduct of stress. I can't seem to escape it. Sleep sounds even more disgusting and horrid than normal. Disregarding the fact that sleep is a waste of time, I'm tip-toeing around the possibility of nightmares and oversleeping. Do you ever get to the point where you've stayed up so late, you might as well keep going? Because FUCK KNOWS that if you sleep JUST now? You're not getting up in time. No ifs, ands, or buts. Period. OH, period. You blessing/curse, YOU.
I hate when you NEED to cry, heaving and all, but there are just no tears left.
I haven't written my thoughts in a long while. That always seems to be the phrase when I get back to blogging ..."it's been awhile". Why are my breaks so long, and my writings so sporadic? I think this stems from the simple fact that I use writing as an outlet. As such, much like the prayers of the desperate, my writings are a procreation of stress, extreme emotions, and hard times in my life. On the other hand, they're also a product of wonderful times in my life. I think the biggest factor would be extreme emotions - good or bad, they inspire me to put those feelings into words...almost as if my petite self simply isn't enough of a vessel to hold such strong feelings.
I was once told my blog seemed like a "stream of unfiltered, unfettered consciousness". I not only found that comment interesting, but was...flattered? I don't think that's quite the right descriptor for the emotion, but I found it an intriguing notion to point out. Perhaps because I always associated "blogging" with online journalling? Why would there be any other way to write? I suppose most people have the idea to go in and edit their thoughts...but a) I'm too lazy and b) why? Your thoughts come and go for a reason. If you have the compulsion to share them, then do! At least, that's how I feel. I'm generally proud of the things that my brain procures, though...I think pride is a problem of mine when it comes to writing or giving advice.
I can't decide if it's odd - my compulsion...nay, almost NEED, to mother and advise. If I don't have friends approaching me with their troubles, I feel as if I sometimes seek them out - simply to give them advice on it. Firstly, I love giving advice. I feel as though I'm able to take an objective viewpoint on most issues and offer something thought-provoking. I love knowing I helped my friends reach a conclusion or solution. When friends are sick, I can't help but bring soup or tea or berate them with "DRINK FUCKING LIME" adages. I feel a responsibility to help those I love whenever I see them less than par. I feel a responsibility to tell those I love when they're being idiots also. Is it odd that I crave to listen to others people's problems? I think my motherly compulsions are coupled with the fact that other's troubles distract me from my own stresses. I love that.
My own stresses...I'm having a hard time distinguishing between selfish and petty or warranted. I relish the idea of being my own adult - supporting myself, having my own place, but meanwhile contributing still to the family because HEY, responsibilities don't just disappear because you continue to grow. BUT! Every time I consider that...I can't help but feel selfish. I realize the dynamic of the age is for kids my age to be considered "adults" and ready to take on the world...but honest to God, some kids my age should REALLY be back at home with mom.
TANGENT? I keep writing every time as everytime....this needs to be fixed. STAT.
I feel as if I'm trying to swim as well as Phelps...in a pool of thick, fucking mud. TF?! For reference? Mud = confusion. Color me befuddled! In almost every aspect at this point. Let me make a handy list:
1. I no longer know if I want kids - whether they be my own or adopted...there's so much I want to do, and having already almost raised 6 of them? I'm not sure if I want to do that all over again...there's so little time! As incited as I may be to be there for others, selfless if you will, I'm still a selfish bitch at times. Let it be known!
2. I know I want to get married, but am wary of whether that will ever happen...I'm a hopeless romantic deep down and the beating of reality has humbled that part of me into near oblivion. To be continued...
3. If I call dreams a pipe dream, does that make me a pessimist? I always prided myself on being pragmatically optimistic (oxymoron? ...not that I really care...) - does choosing the most practical, lucrative career path (that I'm guaranteed to succeed at and have a love for) make me a pussy? I'd consider what I really dreamed of doing a pipe dream. Me? Broadway? Elphaba? SHIT. We all know it ain't gonna happen. If nothing else, accounting will set me up for any business oriented career I so choose...even planning! Singing and me? I don't think it was meant to be.
4. I'm not quite sure what will make me happy anymore.
5. More than anything else, I know I love my brothers and sisters more than anything else in this world...everything I consider revolves around that and leaves me wondering whether I'm running away or growing up, and if I owe them more than that if it's the latter...or...what?
6. I think I'm just going crazy and for all the "breaks" I claim I need...I'm not sure it's doing me any real benefit. I'm craving for the regime of a semester in session. I'm afraid I have no real grace under fire, except for maybe the semblance of keeping my head on straight, when in fact, I'm the personification of turmoil.
I think I have whatever disease is defined as "overly self-analyzing". I can't stop, and it keeps leading me into a circle of logic. I'm trying to integrate all points of views...but all I can come up with is I'm innately selfish...but with motherly tendencies? How is it I can handle confrontation on anyone else's behalf, but not mine? Hold up, let me backpedal a second - I handle my own fights sometimes, but generally only with other people. I'm not good at handling rows within my own family. I feel as if I've closed myself off the past couple of days - as if I'm slowly pulling into my shell, coming up with decisions on my own, and waiting for the right moment to spring them on everyone. I also feel like my mind is trying to repress these logic self-discussions as it sifts through them. I don't think that made any real sense, but hey, I tried.
I think insomnia is a byproduct of stress. I can't seem to escape it. Sleep sounds even more disgusting and horrid than normal. Disregarding the fact that sleep is a waste of time, I'm tip-toeing around the possibility of nightmares and oversleeping. Do you ever get to the point where you've stayed up so late, you might as well keep going? Because FUCK KNOWS that if you sleep JUST now? You're not getting up in time. No ifs, ands, or buts. Period. OH, period. You blessing/curse, YOU.
I hate when you NEED to cry, heaving and all, but there are just no tears left.
magnificent
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