I wish I was the type to complete all my items on my to do list within its deadline. But, I’m not. I would rather ponder about life and listen to hours of music. Where would I be if my lists were completed promptly? What if I chased money instead of my passions? Am I wrong for wishing I did? That my life would be easier. More predictable and respectable. My life is that of a gypsy. I have an addiction to my passions. There is no way out. Forever summoned to a life of soul searching and journey exploring. I am unconventional and unpredictable. It’s all I know. Is to just to be and to live.
Just live life.
How do you react when someone new in your life disappoints you? Do you react casually or tell them what’s really on your mind? I mean, do you have a right to say certain things? It’s hard when true lines aren’t defined. That’s when accidental games are played. That is when I don’t respond because my feelings are hurt and its too soon to respond that way. Sometimes I play it too cool and other times I say too much. As I writer, about a paragraph of feelings. After my slippage of text, I feel intense regret. Then bitterness. Bitterness followed by intense regret. The sinking in my stomach and then the throwing myself into other work. I have happy puppy syndrome with a twist of your scared cat that hides under the bed. My curiosity always gets the best of me.
Some people you invest vulnerability into.
While other people, emotional walls should go back up for your protection.
Time reveals character.
Why want someone who doesn’t want you?
I am a self help book junkie. Every trendy life enhancing article/book out there I’ve picked up at one point or another. Something that has occurred to me recently is that these are other people’s ideas of perfection. Who do they think they are? Are they God? Are these authors perfect themselves? I doubt it. Perfect people are boring. They make me feel judged and that one day they may crack themselves. I have always been drawn to the slightly ‘off their rocker’ individual. The kind that wears their heart on their sleeve. Throws all their passions into the things they love and forgets about the boring details. Have I changed? Yes. Was it always for the better? Not really. Because, the best version of yourself is most important. No other person can tell you what that is. Will I read more self help books? Probably. I’ve changed. I’ve changed because I won’t compare and belittle myself due to not fitting every category of the perfect woman, daughter, girlfriend, wife, best friend, employee, or what ever other roles society gives me. Be yourself. Not an overly primped Barbie doll Stepford wife. It’s boring. Makeup and silicone are expensive to keep up with.
Venturing out last night for the Black Friday sales last night got me thinking.
How long till the high of something new wears off? Until it’s just another item that takes up space in the closet or house? Yes, it’s beneficial to present yourself well and have a nicely put together home. But, what about when it’s used to fill an internal void that one is missing? So many unhappy people in Teslas zoom around Beverly Hills late to their spray tan appointments. When my grandparents passed, my mother and I spent three weeks in San Clemente going through their things. They prized their items. I learned at a young age that you can’t take your trinkets with you. Sometimes the competition of consumption overtakes our rooted values. We put all of our worth in how much is in our bank accounts. We forget that money is paper. Made in a factory. What about building personal profit for life experiences? The ability to travel and capture life through photographs, literature, and stories? Forget the spray tans, million dollar homes, and Teslas. There is a whole world to see and life to explore. That to me is worth the factory made paper.
For me to fall for someone, I have to be mentally stimulated. However, I’ve been in situations where I mentally connect but just can’t seem to feel any sexual attraction for them. Beauty is indeed on the inside but what happens if you just don’t find that person attractive? Do you force it? Or what about when a male is very attractive but you don’t look twice? It’s the eyes that make me fall in love everytime. You can read the kindness, evil, innocence, bitterness, and purity. Then there is the energy that you feel. Sometimes the energy isn’t quite right. Other times you feel instantly comfortable and like you have known them for years. I try and hold on to those relationships. I don’t like pushing in the beginning, if something just isn’t clicking. That’s why it’s important to date around, not sleep around. You can if you’re just frisky all the time. Just to figure out who you want to be with. Date a bunch. It’s an important decision. You’re inviting them into your inner world. Something that should be valued and protected. If you truly love yourself, then you will wait for that person that lights up your day. I have learned through tough lessons to take things slower and enjoy the process. I finally have found myself. It only took me tossing all my belongings and driving across the country to pursue my dream of acting. I’m going after my passions wholeheartedly and have fallen in love with my own strength. Finally I’m at a place where I want to have a healthy relationship but I don’t need one. I’m perfectly okay just loving myself and happy about life in general. I just wonder why sometimes you can’t stop thinking about someone you just met and other times you lose interest within days?
I wonder if cases of people going insane has increased since the internet? I feel trapped on this digital matrix we are all so entangled in. Not really sure which thoughts are mine anymore.
It’s governments way of dumbing us all down by thinking we have all the answers. We are a generation of “know it alls.”
A bunch of ill researched mind drones. I crave to live off the grid. To walk into a party without glowing faces. Where people sneak off to take selfies and to check in places. You are every stalkers dream. I’m tired of conversing with your duck face excuse for a soul. Yet, I do the same. I am linked on the assembly line of this digital hades. And I can’t connect to a human being fully because I’m stuck swiping left and right. That’s right, fuck you Tinder. For turning people into a farm animal. And fuck me for my daily ego stroking it provides. The hypocritical thing about this whole blog entry is that I wrote it on the Internet. The difference between you and me is, I have the balls to admit I am a damn hypocrite.
If you touch me, you have to mean it. My heart is bruised and bandaged. The gauze is falling off and the wounds have callused. Don’t speak to it, unless you intend to undress it. Medicate it and patiently wait for regrowth. Until then, it remains a bloody gauzed up mess. Stay away from me, unless you see past my contrived emotions. And if I do open up to you, you better listen. Vulnerability is only shown to the blessed. Everyone else sees the glitz and glam. Until you’ve gained my trust, you can buy tickets to the show. But, when the lights go out and I’m sitting back stage, I feel alone. Energy hums through my skin and secretes from my fingers. Who will sit in the darkness with me? Not just to wait until the flashing lights come back or to wonder what’s in it for them? So, don’t touch me unless you need my truth. Because, my heart is already mummified and over stitched.