I am so lucky.

I just have so much inside of me. Sometimes I feel like I might explode, and yet I try to just keep it all in, all safe, all under control. But it is those times when I realize that my attempts at control are useless. They make things worse. It is almost always better to let it out, let it flow out, stream out, gush out, however it happens.

I am in a weird mood now. I am trying not to be, because I was so excited about tonight. But it is odd, how fast these things can change. One minute I feel excited and happy and the next moment, things just seem so much more complicated and just too much. I know I over exaggerate by writing that. Hyperbole is the term, I guess. I want to feel clever whipping out a term like that, but I don’t. Most people know that term. It is a fairly common term – well, one that is ingrained in one’s head in grade school.

Grade school sounds so formal. It came to my attention lately (another formal-sounding phrase) that I write very formally. A lot. Not necessarily on my blog, because the never nature of a blog is that it doesn’t have to be formal. That is part of the beauty. But, I tend to not really use contractions. I DO NOT use them a lot.

I think the reason my mood is all over the place is that I have had some very crazy shifts at the crisis center I volunteer at. It is hard not to let that sort of thing get to you now and again. I had two shifts in a row, pretty much. It is a lot. And I feel emotionally drained. Tonight was just supposed to be carefree and relaxing. And for some reason, now I am getting stressed out about it. Sometimes it just feels like everyone puts all their problems and burdens on me, and I love being that person – I love doing what I do. It is a passion of mine. But sometimes it gets exhausting and I think to myself how I am there so much for everyone else, but what about me? And then I feel selfish for even thinking that thought because I know there are people who would be there for me in an instant. But it is different. As a crisis counselor, you learn to really go there and be in that deep, dark place with a person. Most people can’t do that. People can be there for me. But they can’t “be” there for me in the same way I can be there for them. It is hard to explain.

I guess writing is making me feel better. My nails are painted green and are chipped and look tacky. I should change that. Tonight should be fun. Now that I am in a better mood, the night is looking brighter. I talked to people today who really have horrible lives. It makes me realize how lucky I am to live the life I do, to have the friends and family that I do. I am so lucky. Maybe I forget that sometimes. But, after listening to real crises and devastation at the center, it puts my own life in perspective.

I am so lucky. I am so lucky. I am so lucky.

Sometimes I take that for granted.

Bittersweet.

It is bittersweet. It is odd how happy and sad I can be at the same time. This past weekend was amazing. And now it is over. It is hard to think about the memories without smiling. It is also hard to now look around my room and how empty it seems and not feel just a bit sad. I miss him.

Lazy Sunday Afternoons

It is a tease to have what you want in front of you, and not being able to touch it. You reach out, but then you stop. You have to stop. It is just the irony of life. But, still, at least you know it is there. At least you can have that.

Right now I am talking about cartoon movies and how much they make me smile. You can’t help but smile when you see a cartoon movie. You know the peril is not too serious. You know the guy and girl will end up together. It is safe and predictable and nice.

My contact is bothering me. My eye keeps twitching awkwardly and I feel self conscious. Every time I blink, it feels weird.

I am going swimming this afternoon. I can’t remember the last time I did that. When I was younger we used to swim all the time. And then as I got older I don’t know what happened. I guess it got hot outside. Or maybe I noticed the heat more. I guess I learned about Facebook and found television shows I just HAD to watch. Something happened. But I am excited to go swimming today.

I am about to take a shower before swimming, which makes a whole lot of sense. I guess I want to be clean before I get unclean? I don’t know. Either way, a shower sounds nice. The pool sounds nice. It looks like it is going to be a nice afternoon.

 

The real deal.

Real life is never like the movies. The girl doesn’t meet the guy and magically falls in love just by laying eyes on him. The guy doesn’t say the lines in movies and plan the romantic dates that take place in them. From a young age, we watch Disney and are brainwashed into thinking Prince Charming’s exist and will whisk us away on horses after fighting evil. All in a day’s work, right? No.

I don’t know at what age we realize that the movies lie. Maybe it is after we have had our hearts broken and dreams crushed. Maybe it is when we see a good friend get hurt or a family break into pieces. Maybe there is no definitive point. Some things can’t be mapped and lined up on shelves in straight lines. More so, they exist on crooked shelves with nails falling out and items spilling out over the sides forming messy piles on the floor.

I think the only thing we can hope for is to find someone who makes us happy. We have to find that someone we can love and accept them for both their attributes and flaws. We learn to love the imperfections – the birth mark or freckle on a part of their body, the way they say certain words quick and others slow, when they are cranky and angry or excited and happy. We learn to love it all, because that is all we can do.

They always make New York City look so glamorous in the movies and on television. They fail to show all the trash and homeless people. In the movies it is about hailing a cab and walking with your Starbucks coffee in hand in your heels and designer coat to work. It is about your hair blowing perfectly in the wind as some popular song plays in the background. People run into the “love of their life” while walking their dog through central park or dancing in an upscale club. It just isn’t real.

This entry makes me seem very cynical. I am not usually this way. I guess talking to a friend today made me realize that the movies fail to capture reality. They are scripted and false. I mean there is a reason we call them actors and actresses. They play an act. And we, the audience, are fools for buying into this image. But we grow up being spoon fed it with our Barbie dolls and princess bed covers. We are told that being plastic is ideal, being tiny is the way to look. But Barbie proportions are unrealistic. You would die if you were that way. Ironic, right?

I have a bit more fat on my thighs than I would like. My upper arms can jiggle if I want them to. I am short. But, I am real. I cry if hurt. You can cut my hair and it will grow back. If I stub my toe, it might bleed. I am real. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.

That being said, who doesn’t sometimes want to be that girl in the movies. Who doesn’t want that romance. But I would take the real guy any day, because he is tangible. I can hold him and hug him. He is honest with me. And he is the one, at the end of the day, who is by my side.

Sitting at Starbucks (again).

The large group of people sitting behind me is more than obnoxious. I keep turning around trying to figure out who they are – because they are all different ages – and why they are here, being so loud, in a place where other people are trying to be productive and study. I don’t get it. The guy to my right is very skinny and is attempting to look preppy, but doesn’t quite pull it off – the flip flops are just a bit too much on his bony feet. The guys behind me have on big headphones that make them look serious and nerdy. Outside the window I just saw two Boca Brats walk by in heels that are too high for the afternoon and with big white floppy hats that make them look like they belong in the Hamptons instead. Maybe I am just jealous that they are rich and can buy whatever the hell they want and then wear whatever the hell they want. Or maybe they just look stupid.

The group of people behind me is leaving, and I couldn’t be happier. They make even more noise as they leave. It is like a parade out of Starbucks. Maybe floppy hat, stiletto girls will join them. Or maybe they will fall on their asses as they walk across the street. They do look silly.

Yesterday at my sister’s graduation, one of my relatives sat next to a he/she/it. The gender was “to be determined.” It wasn’t until he noticed two tiny protrusions on this person’s chest, that we determined “it” was naturally female, despite obvious intentions to not be. The voice of this person was questionable. That was the first giveaway that maybe this creature was not what he/she/it seemed. I sound harsh saying this. It was just that the ceremony was dreadfully boring minus a few interesting points. Therefore the only thing one could do while sitting still for so long, was to people watch. And when such an interesting speciman is within sight, curiousity will surface.

My nose is running right now. My allergies are being annoying. It is embarrassing sneezing four times in a row in public. If I saw someone do that, I would be grossed out and probably inch a bit further away. I don’t want to be the “gross” person who sneezes too much and causes other people to inch away from me. Luckily I don’t think many people noticed. Here in Boca people don’t say “bless you” after someone sneezes. Doors are rarely opened for you. It is about being into yourself and only yourself. Boca is a world that is comprised of many individual worlds. It is about a person  being the center of their world. Be careful not to pop the Boca Bubble – those in Boca don’t like messes. It might mess up their carefully manicured hair or cause them to actually bend down in their stiletto heels for a reason other than trying on another pair of shoes.

It is easy to make fun of Boca. I mean Boca is very beautiful. It is nice. I sit and stare at the beautiful scenery as I write. And yet Boca is very false. It is a facade. Everyone wears this facade. The kids grow up fast. The adults try not to grow up at all. Old rich men marry young blonds who don’t know math – they only know the numbers on the credit cards given to them by their rich husbands.

Of course not everyone in Boca is like this. I mean, I am from Boca, and that is not me. It is not my friends. It is not my family. I am only providing a generalization, not a complete image. I am poking fun at the ridiculousness of so much of it. But at the same time, Boca is paradise. It is a safe place. It is clean. It is one of the richest places in the United States. I am luckily to have had the chance to live here. And yet a part of me can only feel relieved that I didn’t get sucked into the Boca mentality. It is contagious and enticing.

The jazz music in Starbucks is cool and calming. My coffee is delicious. I just saw a couple walk by hand in hand and I was happy to see that they were wearing “normal” clothing, not designer. I see a guy with ripped jeans outside, crazy sunglasses and long hair. He looks like a rebel. I expect him to whip out a guitar and start jamming. I bet he has a six pack in his car.

The funny thing is that I have yet to see a dog so far at Mizner Park today. No frilly dogs in clothing. It must be too hot. I will just imagine the dogs in their doggy beds being groomed and having bows tied into their hair. Some people treat dogs like dolls. I suppose adults need their toys, too. And not all adult toys can be displayed so publicly.

I need to stop procrastinating and start my work. Now that the group is gone, it is quiet and peaceful here. My video for class is loaded. The guy across from me looks loaded. The nice thing about my car is I never worry about it being stolen in Boca, because who wants a Saturn when there are expensive designer cars on either side of it?

A dog just passed me. It is about time. The owner is an older lady. The dog and lady look like they would go together. I feel like dogs and owners should match. They always seem to. These two do. They match.

My dog looks more like my sister. Maybe I need to dye my hair auburn so I can match my dog. Or maybe my little theory is just wrong. That is probably it.

What happens when I multitask…

I am trying a new thing right now – listening to music and writing. At the same time. What a concept. I am a decent multitasker. Oh wow, now I am adding texting to the mix. I am skilled. Sometimes.

When someone tells me I am funny. My response – sometimes. Because that is the truth.

My mom told me a story about a duck today. I think that line alone is intriguing. I mean how often do you hear about ducks? They are not the normal topic of discussion. “Hello, I just met you, but here is what I want to say – let’s talk about ducks!” People don’t do that. However, my mom is different because I know her and we share the same humor, even if no one else understands it. We get each other. And we obviously like to talk about ducks.

When I think of ducks, I think of imprinting, and unfortunately, no thanks to Stefanie Meyer, that makes me think of Twilight, which I absolutely hate. Because how I can’t think of the concept of imprinting without thinking about a teenage guy falling for a baby. That is just weird.

I am knitting a blanket right now. Sometimes I act like an old lady. It’s okay. I am used to it. One time I knitted at a tennis match my sister was playing. All the mothers thought I was something special. I felt like I should have brought some prune juice for me to sip through my dentures. Now I mainly knit in the privacy of my home. However, I am not embarrassed anymore. I think it is cool that I can make my own things. I like creating something completely unique that no one else has. It is my own. It is something tangible I can say is mine.

The music just stopped and it seems quiet, too quiet. I need to put another song on, because now I am used to the background noise. All I hear now is the clock, which I find more distracting at the moment than the music. The songs were nice. They added a bit of rhythm to my work, urging me forward.

I just drank a glass of milk. It was cold, not warm. Most people think that milk before bed should be warm, but warm milk seems so unappetizing to me. Cold milk all the way.

I had a dream the other night that my house was on fire and that everything in it was destroyed. It was scary to think about, but the more I thought about, the more I realized that most of what I own is just stuff. I look around my room right now and, yes, many things hold sentimental value, but at the end of the day, I could live without them. There are a couple things that I consider priceless, that I would not be able to regain if they were lost. But, overall, I feel like sometimes I own stuff just to own it. Sometimes I buy clothing just to own it. Yes, I love my clothing and decorations and everything in my room, but I am not defined by what I own.

I slept for four hours this morning after getting back from my all nighter shift. I am tired, but not tired enough to go to bed. Instead I just sit here on my bed like a potato. I don’t know who chose potato as the sedentary food. Why not bread or cheese or lettuce? Why potato? There is probably some historical answer, but I am too lazy to look it up right now. Potato me just wants to sit here, listen to my music, text, and write.

A week ago I wrote how a lot can happen in a week. I still believe that. A lot can happen. And a lot can stay the same. I feel different today than I did a week ago. I have changed, even if my life hasn’t changed drastically. In one week, a lot can happen. You can realize that in order to change, you must put in the effort. You can work towards that. You can get upset along the way, but this can only motivate you more. And you can learn that there are people there to support you. And that this support is so important. To those of you supporting me, thank you.

The words are coming back to me…

I feel like everything is changing. Some things are good. Others, I don’t know. I miss some things. I miss some people. It sometimes feels like the world is moving too fast, and even though I try to keep a firm grasp on it, I can’t. Right now I sit here in my workout clothing, and I am sipping coffee from the mug next to me. I will be up all night. Better start the caffeine now.

I want to write again. I feel like I haven’t in a while. Even writing this blog is harder than it used to be. I used to write it more consistently. My entries used to be better. Now I think they are just okay. The world okay is not one of my favorites. It is a boring word that says barely anything at all. Okay is right up there with fine.

My room is a mess and I really should clean it. I mean, really clean it. Not just stuff things in my closet so it looks good on the outside. Exteriors can be deceiving. I have met people who have looked one way, fooled others, but on the inside, they were totally different. Sometimes you can’t even see these differences, they hide them so well. But if you look close enough, follow the cracks, fault lines, you will see the deeper truths.

When I was younger I used to wish for X-ray vision. I used to wish I could see into people, figure out who would be a good friend, who wouldn’t. I thought that, maybe, this would help me find people who would be good. Growing up, I had trouble finding friends. I was shy. I got hurt. I had no back bone. I let people walk all over me. And then I went to college and I realized that to find a worthy friend, I had to have confidence in myself. Not everyone I know has confidence, but I can at least say I do. And my life is so much better because of it.

There was also a time I wished I could fly. I had dreams that I was soaring through my living room, my kitchen, out the front door and up into the clouds. There I was, above the drama, the lies, the petty arguments. I was above it all. And I liked it up there. Until I realized that a life alone, even if it is without all the bad things that accompany life with people, is not a life at all. Being alone is nothing to wish for. It is a horrible place. A black hole. And it’s like the dirt is just piled deeper and deeper on top of you, until you can’t breathe, or move, or feel anything at all. Luckily, I can say I have hardly ever visited this place. I know people who dwell in this place, though. I speak to them on the phone lines. I have known people close to me, who have had the misery of living there for a time being. And it only makes me want to try my hardest to reach out to these people and show them that there is more to life. It makes me grateful that I don’t live in such a world. If I ever push others away, or purposely close and lock my door, it is only because I need a bit of space. When I am alone, it is usually because I want to be. I want the time to myself. I think we all need that once in a while.

But I need my friends and family. They are what makes life worth living. I used to think that flying away was the answer. That flying would be the ultimate freedom. And yet, I don’t think it would be freeing, unless you were able to fly with others. Flying alone, I would imagine, would be the loneliest feeling. You would be up there, high above everything else, and yet you would not be able to share that with anyone else. What’s the point in enjoying something, if you are the only one enjoying it?

Humans flock in groups for a reason. Some choose to be hermits. But, most, could never live that life.

I once wrote an amusing paragraph about hermits:

You like being invisible. It is nice, but it never lasts. One day you wake up and you are no longer invisible and suddenly the whole world can see you. And it is terrifying. You want to run and hide, dig a hole in the forest and live with the rabbits and gophers and groundhogs. During those times, you also contemplate the idea of just becoming a hermit. The word hermit sounds like Kermit, and, therefore, reminds you of frogs. And the color green. And then of course you think about green beans, and then you no longer want to be a hermit, because that would mean thinking about green beans all the time, and you would not like that. So you go back to thinking about digging a hole, and that image is much nicer. You like groundhogs much better than frogs.

The more I am writing right now, the easier it is flowing out of my mind. It is all coming back to me – the thoughts, words, desire to write. I feel like if I don’t stop soon, I won’t. Writing brings me such joy and right now I feel more at peace than I have in a while. The writing is coming back to me, and I couldn’t be happier. I want to work on this story idea I have had brewing for a couple weeks now. If I ever write a novel, it is an idea I would like to pursue. It is controversial, and interesting, and makes me think. And I hope it would make others think. Because that is what I would one day love to do – write books that make people think. I believe that as long as we think, challenge life, then we stay young. As long as we dream, and hope, and discover, then we continue to have a purpose.

Maybe everything is changing. I can’t stop that. But I can control how I deal with those changes. When I was a little girl, my dad used to say this quote that drove me crazy. He would look me in the eyes, and say: “You can either be happy or sad, smart or stupid, you control your own destiny.”

Maybe, dad, you were right.

Moving Forward.

It’s easy to get caught up in other people’s lives and ignore your own. Maybe that is part of why I like counseling. I can focus on other people’s problems and not have to deal with mine. I mean I do genuinely enjoy listening to people and being there for them. I can’t not do that. Sometimes it is a problem. But, overall, I like to think that it just makes me a good friend and a good listener. I try to be, at least. But lately I have been thinking about how much easier it is to delve into the lives of others in order to avoid thinking about what I have to do in my own life. That is, maybe, why I enjoy watching television and reading books so much. I can escape into fictional lives in fictional worlds, and maybe, for a little bit, forget about my life and my world.

Right now I am still kind of in another world. I am slowing coming back to reality, listening to the clank-clanking of my bracelets around my wrist. My shoulder is itchy from the fly that is in my room. I keep watching the bug zoom back and forth, back and forth, and I just want to slap it and make it go away. But bugs are hard to squish. They always seem to just slip right out of your grasp.

I am thinking about going on a bike ride. It would be nice. I haven’t been on one in a while and it used to be such a large part of my life. I really want to get back in shape this summer. I want to feel good about myself, and being healthy and exercising always makes me feel better. It will be nice to feel the breeze brush against my cheek as I bike down the road. It will be nice to feel the sun beating down and the sweat gathering and knowing that I am getting a workout and pushing myself. There is something about physically propelling yourself forward, that really makes it feel like you are going somewhere.

I used to just bike. I would bike every morning for two hours and usually I went about 40 miles a day. Sometimes more. Sometimes less. But I biked a lot. And I got in really good shape. I also got tan, which is a first. But it would be nice to be in that shape again. Yes, there is no ocean here, and I really enjoy biking along the water, but there are trails here and nice roads with trees lining them. The hills are annoying, especially riding up them. But soaring down them, now there is something so exhilarating about that.

The fly is driving me insane. I think I will leave on that bike ride now to avoid the fly and to avoid chickening out. The hardest part is starting. Once I start biking again, it will be easy. I just need to get on top of that bike and pedal. Here’s to helmet hair and sweaty shirts!

p.s. you have been warned to stay away from me after my bike ride  until I shower

Life is about change.

I was just driving home from a friend’s and I heard a song on the radio that I hadn’t heard in years. It was a simple song. Nothing special. But it made me smile. I guess it reminded of many things I hadn’t thought about in a while. It reminded me that life doesn’t have to always be complicated. Sometimes it can be as simple as hearing a song and smiling and just enjoying a moment.

Time is a funny thing. That is really all I can say about it at the moment. It is funny. I don’t really know what to think, except that maybe I was wrong about some things regarding time. Maybe what I thought was going to be really bad, is actually good. Maybe what I thought would be really difficult, is actually what I need.

I know that all sounds enigmatic, and maybe I will clarify at some point, but right now, I don’t really want to dwell. I want to move, to do things, see things, live my life. I want to be busy, I want to have a purpose. This summer may seem boring, but I will make of it what I chose to. And I want to make it memorable. I don’t just want to sit around and wait for things to happen, I want to create them, bring them to me.

I want to remember who I am. I feel like I have lost a bit of that, maybe, lately. Not much. Not necessarily in a bad way. But I just want to rediscover me a bit. And now I have the time to do so. And I think that is really good.

Sometimes it will be hard to sit here all summer – the heat is quite unbearable and the sweat is gross – but, I have the chance to do so much during that time, if only I choose. I feel so corny writing like this right now. I am a bit corny. I know. But, if that is what I need right now, who I am, what I want, then so be it.

My room is messy right now and I am going to clean it after I finish writing. It is time to start my summer. It is time to fulfill those goals. It is time.

My clock actually ticks. Not many audibly do so these days, since most people have alarm clocks in their rooms, not hanging ones. I have both. I guess you could say I am one of the rare people. I don’t know. I mean, people do have hanging clocks in their rooms. But college students rarely do. But I am listening to it tick right now, and it is almost propelling me forward with this typing. I am trying to type to the rhythm of the ticks and failing miserably.

I heard a drunken guy scream outside just now. It was ugly and loud and annoying. Okay, it made me chuckle a bit. But, overall, it was annoying and if I were studying right now and not blogging, it would have pissed me off a little.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Time is passing quickly. My room is messy. I want to relax. I should finish up writing and get on with it. No more procrastination.

I will end with this. It is a quote from a show I just got hooked on yesterday. The quote just sort of struck me as I was watching:

“Life is about change. Sometimes it’s painful, sometimes it’s beautiful, but most of the time it’s both.”

A lot can happen.

I was off from school for one week. In one week a lot can happen. It can rain. The sun can feel so unbearably hot. You can feel smothered and alone both at the same time. People can drive you crazy. Not being with someone can drive you crazy. A lot can happen.

Now that it has been one week,  it feels like it went by both very slow and really fast. I want today to pass by slowly, and yet I know it will be gone in the blink of an eye and I will want it back. I’ll beg for it back, because it is going to be such a good day. I can tell.

So much has changed in the past week. I will write more later, but now I want to dwell in this day. I don’t want to waste any time writing. I am just writing to prove that I am not gone. I am here! Well, sort of. But I will be fully here next time I write. Hopefully.

Here is to hoping that this day never ends! Alas, time doesn’t usually work in our favor. One can still hope.