It’s all about me

It is really hard sometimes for me to remember to look out for myself. I am always afraid I am going to come off as one of those needy neurotic people I look down on with distain. So self sufficiency is my game and putting others before myself and my needs my anthem. I have been trying to change that this year. I am trying really hard to make it all about me. Of course, I had not counted on the total lack of corporation from the rest of the world. Everything is conspiring against me. It is so damn hard not to wallow in self pity. Can't ONE THING jut work for me without me having to loose a gallon of blood over it? Does everything has to be a sacrifice that costs me part of my soul? Can't just one thing be easy?

I am not discounting hormones for this sudden overwhelming feeling of helplessness. I do feel very emotional right now. Like it is my time of the month – only it is not.

MY “HIM”

I was never very fussy about what my Him looked like. I didn't care if he was fat and balding or if he had a snorting laugh and was as thin as a rail. I had no physical requirements per se, after all, it was his mind that I was going to fall in love with – not what he looked like. But still. In my hearts of hearts, I wanted him to be tall. That's it. I wanted to feel dainty and feminine beside him. I wanted him to be able to pick me up and crry me up a sweeping staricase like Rhett Butler without breaking a sweat. Still. What I really wanted from my Him was his heart. I wanted him to love me above all others. I wanted him to treasure me.

Of course, reality, my ever present nemesis has managed to trample another one of my dreams. If I do ever end up with someone, I no longer believe it will be Him. It might be someone similar to Him, but I now firmly believe that my Him no longer exists.

 

The surprising thing about that is that as sad as I am about that, I'm okay with it too. I love my Him, and I don't want to meet a real guy who will ever expose his feet of clay. I want him to forever remain perfect in my heart. I will live with what ever reality life gives me, and if I'm not completely deliriously happy, I will settle to be content.

Almost is not good enough

As soccer fever reaches its zenith and its end on July 12^th, I think of roller coaster the tournament has been this year. No one could have called it this year. Every upset in the book happened. There were no guarantees. I loved every minute of it. But watching Ghana lose to Uruguay so unnecessarily was very upsetting. And despite the barrage of postings on facebook saying that Ghana had done a fantastic job, I could not agree. They played far better than Uruguay and they should have won. Almost is just not good enough. No one cares if you almost succeeded, they just care that you did. Almost doesn't count. As unfair and unjust as it seems, if all the effort you put into something didn't get the job done, that effort was a waste and doesn't count.

I want my life to count. I want to have done things. Accomplished things. Almost going them – the stage I'm at right now with a lot of my endeavors – simply doesn't count.

At the end of the day, after all that work, Ghana went home a loser. That's where I am right now. Close to going home a loser. Effort doesn't cut it. Crossing the finish line does.

Yes, I know. I'm such a ball of encouragement right now, huh? J)

SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG…

Ok, I'm back. Apparently. Sorry it took me so long, but I have finally come back to myself. Sort of. I have had a rough couple of months. A lot of turmoil, a lot of soul searching – a lot of which I was not ready to let loose into cyber space. Like some psycho chick, I had to let it grow and fester and turn me into a being I could hardly recognize. I watched myself spiral into fighting with God and not going to church, drinking from as early as is legally possible, and snapping and snarling and anyone who dared criticize my behavior. Knowing that what is happening to you is bad and should stop and actually having the will to do so are two totally different things, I have learned – and am still learning.

So my life sucks, but that does not mean my attitude should as well, right? Right! So I am taking the first steps in changing my mind set. I am getting that stupid sewing machine even if I really can't afford it right now. I need to start bringing out my creative side to help vent all this anger and frustration I feel. Plus, I am going to start writing again. I have been burying myself in books to avoid the chaos of my own meaningless existence and I have been reading some cheap crap! Surely I can write better than that! I know I can. So I am going to. Write crap. I am going to stop being my own worst critic and just write already! Just get it out there. The proofreading and editing can be done at the end. Let me just finish telling the damn story even if it doesn't turn out the way I had planned. Let me just get it all down on paper as I see it in my head.

So that's all for now. And when I hit a wall in my writing, I'll come here and vent. I'll try and keep it all PG13, but can't promise. I've been very angry and frustrated these past couple months, and apparently, it's all gotta come out somewhere! Some of it might end up here…

 

Either way, it will make for some good reading right….?

Rambling on at 2am

These days, I honestly wonder what happened to the girl who thought that she could do anything. Who genuinely believed that the world was her very own oyster. Life has been pretty cruel to me. It has thrown me high balls and curve balls, given me black eyes and cellulite, constantly doomed relationships and massive heartache. All this with a scenic route. I don't know if I am really all that grateful for the scenic route. I think the autobahn would have been just fine for some of the places I had to get to!
Needless to say. Here I am. Chock-full of nothing but experience. I'm not even sure I learned the lessons I was supposed to learn. It sucks that there's no grading on the curve. That in life, you just keep taking the stupid test until you ace it. I must be as thick as a door stump, because I recognize this class. Here I go again.

The Trouble with Thinking

I am having trouble stringing thoughts together. No, stringing ideas together. I have hit a brick wall in more ways than one. Everything has come to a massive stand still. My business, my writing… To be fair, the only thing that's looking up is the job front. It looks like I will finally be earning enough money to feel frivolous again. Oh Joy.

But my stories continue to suffer. I am over thinking it. Thinking too much. It almost makes me wish that I could revert to writing in notepads/books. But of course I can't, because I have gotten so used to the spell check and auto-correction button that I bet I can't even spell my name right! Actually, the English Dictionary always spells my name wrong so scratch that, but you know what I mean. I am lost without the auto-dictionary.

I am thinking very seriously of joining one of those sites that make you write a certain number of words a day or they kill you. Something drastic to get me to sit in front of my laptop and pound at the keys. Maybe I should do it and see what comes out. Should be fun.

 

I am over thinking all my plot lines

Dream Big

Yesterday, at a catering party, the host took me to the full length windows and showed me a magnificent view of Chelsea Piers and the Hudson and challenged me to dream big. He has bought Pier 57 and is going to turn it into a fun hangout spot, with trendy shops and bars, free films shown on a big screen and a huge Ferris wheel – circa The Eye in London.

He said the sky is the limit. Literally. All one needed in life to succeed was a good teacher, good friends and the discernment to pick them. Good teachers, he said, are all around you. They are the guy you meet on the subway, the homeless guy who calls out to you, even the breeze that hits your face just so as soon as you step out of your house in the morning. Good friends, he said, are the ones who want nothing from you, but want the best for you. They never say never, or no. They cheer you on no matter what and are there for you no matter what.

He said the rule to success is to visualize where you want to go. Have a clear conception of your end product – where you want to go, what you want to do. Have a rough idea of how you want to get there, but be flexible enough to roll with any punches life throws at you along the journey.

He said the real secret to being happy was to look outside yourself. To understand that you have to find happiness within you. The happiest peoples are those that are students – always willing and ready to learn from anyone. They are also servants – seeing themselves as vessels, not as an end.

Although this guy wasn't Christian, or even religious, everything he said really resonated with me. He is right. The bible teaches us that we are God's servants here on earth. His arms extended. We are supposed to work for him and his kingdom. We are also supposed to be like little children – teachable. We are not too humble to learn and be taught by anyone.

That's my prayer. To be humble enough for greatness.

 

 

***A sigh***

So far, all my resolutions have gone to pot. I have not managed to keep a single one. I do not exercise – have put my gym membership on hold, I am not writing – I'm devouring books though at an extremely alarming rate, and I can't seem to remember to song in the shower. It is all so sad.

But today was the snow day. It was also the day we decided that we do not want to live in Manhattan anymore and are setting out sights further north. To be honest, I am not sure how I feel about that. So as I do with all unpleasantness, I am ignoring it. I am feeling bruised and tender. Not exactly weighed down with the general air of depression and despair that swirls around 318 East these days, but more with a lack of joy. My spirit is wounded. My soul is weighed down. My heart is heavy. And I don't know what to do about it. Obviously, I need to snap out of it. I tell myself that I need just one thing to happen to me. Just the one thing and I think I will be alright.

In a little of a Pickle…

I am having trouble writing. Yes! I thought it was weird too! I mean, I finally have the story content I have been longing for, but I simply don't seem to be able to translate it all onto paper. I have my African tale – the story that can finally combine my heritage with all the syfy fantasy stuff I'm always gorging myself on. I even have a 'Christian' story all ready to go. I mean, I have a decent outline of each of these in my head. How can I still have writer's block? I don't understand it! I am starting to think that maybe I really have lost it. Maybe my writing was one of those don't-use-it-you-loose-it gigs. Have I really lost my ability to write? Will I honestly end up an unpublished wannabe forever? Is this the end of me? Please God no. As I write this, think this, everything within me wails in grim denial and despair.

Or maybe it is just the artist in me being all dramatic.

I honestly don't know how I would survive without the characters in my head. Yes, I know that made me sound like a candidate for the loony farm, but it's true. All those characters I invent, the brave heroines, the dashing heroes. They get to do all sorts of things I only ever dream about. They get to say things that I wish could come out of my mouth. They are brave and don't hide from their problems. Thing happen to them – exciting things that can never possibly happen to me. They don't lead boring lives where nothing happens to them. They don't sit around biting their nails waiting for adventure to come. They go for it. They seize the day. They are everything I am not and if I could not live vicariously through them, I would die – seriously wither up and simply die.

Of course, if these characters simply stayed in my head and never made it to the page, then maybe I am a candidate for the loony farm. They need to live. I have to bring them to life. I am killing them by not writing their stories, and by extension am killing myself right along with them. I have to snap out of this. I have to. I simply have to figure out how…

 

Singing in the Shower

Resolutions are funny things. We're in week two and I haven't even managed to keep a single one of them! So now the guilt of this creeps in. Who would have thought that singing in the shower would be so hard? But as one who always thinks and plans one's day in the shower, switching to singing and being light hearted about soaping my legs and back is a whole change for me. Even if I remind myself to sing one minute before I step under the spray of water, I still forget! After two weeks, I've only managed it once so far. How pathetic is that?

So of course, all these failed resolutions are making me morose and moody. I want to snap everyone's head off. I have zero tolerance and even less patience with anything and anyone in my current state. So to avoid blowing up on anyone, I close in on my self – bury myself in my books and avoid all human contact. This worked better when I lived by myself. When living with other people. Silence usually makes them uncomfortable and leads them to prod you, thus annoying you further and the vicious cycle continues. Agh!

I'll snap out of it. I just need to remember where I misplaced my joy. Oh help.

An Auspicious Beginning

 

Okay, so today was a rather bland way to begin this New Year. With everyone crawling out of the sheets mid to late morning nursing hangovers and serious regrets about their activities the night before (or is it the year before…?), it was quite a way to start things off. It all certainly has me hoping that all this groggy drowsiness is due to the hangover from last year, rather than a foretaste of things to come. It was a crappy day in all. Nothing great happened. One thing bad did happen. The phone call and person I was waiting for did not come. Which gave me a sick feeling in my gut, as the consequences are really bad if this person does not get in touch with me soon. But I did get a random phone call from someone else instead. It was a pleasant surprise. It was nice. Interesting.

So yeah, the first was not very memorable. Quite the opposite in fact. I think once the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach disappears, I'll feel better. Once things arrive in Zed and I can move past this, I'll feel better. It seems that my feeling better depends on a lot of external factors outside my control. Which sucks. Okay. Enough with the random thoughts. I am zoning out now.

I almost forgot to submit a blog today, so I am sneaking this one in just in time. It may not be as long or as deep, but it is still an idea – a thought released out into the cosmos. Right? Right.