Magical Yellow Room

Well nice to see you again.

It’s hard to break through the fuzz of the day to set some time aside for myself to do anything, much less write what I want to. Even now I’m distracted by the thrum of the TV.

I’ve been wanting to get back into writing lately. Inspired by You, a Netflix original. Funny to feel inspiration from a show about a stalker, but his cynicism in poetic storytelling is both funny and accurate. The problem is, and always will be, time. Time and money.

My nice cushy job doesn’t bring in enough for us to stop worrying about finances, so I continue to work my fingers to the bone. I used to be so proud of myself for having that hardworking attitude. Now I realize that’s the theme in this country — destroy yourself to take care of others. What an American dream.

I miss the days I was able to practice yoga, meditate, do ANYTHING to care for myself without thinking “there’s something else I need to be doing” in the back of my mind. Frankly, it’s exhausting. I feel like I’m expending so much energy just picking up the trail we leave through the house. It’s overwhelming just thinking of adding another human to this mess.

I’ve been thinking about that more and more though. As someone who said she never wanted kids, I’ve come a long way. I’m still unsure — I’m a baby with pain and I’m not actually good with children, but I know it’s what Andrew wants. I feel it’s the next step, and I’m not as afraid of it anymore. There are plenty of other things to be afraid of.

The future is a syndicated shitstorm in my head. Staying in PA, moving to be closer to my family, but then where will the kids go to school and where will we work and will we have enough money and what about traveling and doing it all in one shot. What about making sure you’re happy along the way.

I used to always envision myself typing away at a computer in a bright yellow room with a beaded entryway at a beach house. Still living a modest life. Enjoying what I’m doing. I never knew what I was writing, I just knew I was writing. Yawning and stretching as I get up to hug the man of my dreams on a sleepy Saturday morning as the golden godly rays of morning sunshine streamed through a window.

And I had that yellow room, and I still do. I hung beads on my childhood bedroom door, I painted my childhood bedroom yellow, and hung twinkle lights to inspire my thoughts, because light and beauty inspire the masses. We moved into our new house and even here I have a yellow room, this time with a desk and lamp but also a yoga mat because life is a balance. Can anything be tacky when it’s what brings you back to your childhood dream, your life’s vision?

But what they never tell you is living in fear is not the same as living a modest life. I’m not choosing to live a modest life because I want to right now. When it comes down to it, I would still choose a quieter life, but I don’t know anyone who would choose to live with the anxiety of how big will that next paycheck be.

Once so enthralled with the idea of becoming a writer, I eventually became intimidated. I blame my senior english class for that — looking up realistically what authors make scared me out of wanting to stake my livelihood on whether or not someone thought my writing was worth something. But as I get older, I wish I would’ve taken the shot anyway. Everything anyone does is judged by how well they do it. Can I pick up legalese quickly so we can jump in to getting the work done? Am I good enough at X to achieve Y. My livelihood is already at stake based on my skills — why shouldn’t I have just tried my hand with writing?

Especially while I have the time. Now between having a full-time job and a house, I don’t have time for much. Next step is a wedding and babies, both expensive and time-consuming. The only reason I have time today is I have a half-day at work.

Being an adult is much more boring than I thought it would be. I’m excited to have found the love of my life, but would I appreciate if he did the dishes more often? Of course. I love having this house, but would I enjoy not having to pay any bills? Absolutely! As a 23-year-old would I love to spend my money on dying my hair a crazy color and traveling to an exotic place? You betcha! Instead, I’m sitting on my couch in a robe after downing an entire bag of chips, thinking about how I have to go back to work in 15 hours. I’m surprised how easily I have slipped into the adult-that-dreads-work-and-battles-menial-depression-every-day lifestyle.

Like I said, I never expected an extravagant life. I just thought I’d be happier right now. Then again, don’t all great artists go through a blue period? Maybe this is mine, as I sit in my blue robe.

One of these days I will have to try my hand again — when I have the money to rebuy my subscription to Word. And maybe I’ll have the courage to dye my hair blonde like I’ve always wanted. Move to a house on the beach with the love of my life, typing away in that yellow room, spinning yarns someone actually wants to read, something that actually touches someone’s heart and soul and changes them for the rest of their lives or at least the rest of that afternoon — the way books spoke to me as a child. Maybe I’ll finally say something worth listening to. Or maybe I’ll move to the mountains so I can be snowed in all my life. I guess the bright side to 23 is everything’s still a mystery.

But 24 is coming soon. And I still fight with myself on what I want, what I need, and what I feel. I write for me.

Now I must go shower so I can continue to take care of me.

Love

Nightmares

So I usually go through about a week of nightmares after not having them for a long time, and this week has been nightmare week. I typically get pretty freaked out by my nightmares, especially if I wake up and it’s still dark. I’d love to know what happens to my brain when I have these nightmares because they are always so emotionally charged, be it paralyzing fear or heart-wrenching sadness.

So, I’m kind of obsessed with Game of Thrones (after rejecting the fad for so many years), and earlier this week I had a nightmare that was GoT-esque but it also involved my family. I was fighting beside my cousin and Jon Snow, and my sister was fighting in the same battle elsewhere. In the battle, Jon and my sister both died and I was consumed by this overwhelming sadness. I woke up in tears for only the second time in my life (that I can remember, anyway. The first time was after my first cat passed away and I dreamed that he was still alive and I remember crying in the dream because I was so happy, and I woke up crying in my then-boyfriend’s bed. He didn’t do anything to comfort me, by the way. Similarly, he did nothing when I cried over that cat dying… I should have known then, right?).

The most recent nightmare was a little more plot-heavy. The government was infecting people with this zombie-like virus that was killing people off very quickly, it seemed very end-of-the-world. But we knew that the government was responsible for it, so to combat it, people were essentially suicide-bombing government buildings or else sacrificing themselves in other ways (hoping I don’t get flagged by the CIA or FBI here). I was kind of trapped in this room while most of it was going on, but when I was finally let out into the newly desolate world, I found out that just about everyone I cared about died trying to take down the government. My sister, her boyfriend, my best friends, my coworkers, all gone. And in that moment I was fighting back tears. I knew that they did it so that I – and other survivors – could live and be happy, but I suddenly didn’t want any of that without them. I think my parents were even still alive, but the thought of having to tell them that my sister was dead was dreadful. I didn’t want to live in a world without these people. I woke up, thankfully not in full-on tears this time.

It was just very odd, very eye-opening. First, I wonder why I keep dreaming that my sister dies. Then, I marvel in the fact that it was so easy for me to consider suicide or martyrdom without these people in my life. I have never admitted to having any kind of suicidal thoughts (other than the dramatic¬†what would people do when I’m gone?¬†teenage bullshit), so it was interesting to see that my own motivation for living just depleted when I learned that these people died. It was just strange to me.

Corri asked me if I had anything on my mind, anything unusual stressing me out. Nothing out of the ordinary, honestly. I think this is the least stressed I’ve ever been about school (senioritis!), I’ve been taking care of my mind and body, I haven’t fought with any of my friends lately, and it’s the same old with my love interest. I haven’t been eating or drinking before bed. The only thing I can think of is that I was recently sick and maybe this is an aftermath of my weird fever dreams.

Or maybe I’m just overdue for some kind of mental/emotional breakdown. I’ve been telling just about everyone for two weeks that I’m overdue, which I guess is true even though I don’t have mental breakdowns that often. Sometimes you need a good cry – one that doesn’t involve your closest friends and family members dying.

Anyways, it’s late, I’m tired. I started a new book the other day, one I wasn’t totally sure about, but it’s gotten pretty good lately.¬†Slade House, for anyone who’s interested. Also, if anyone knows anything about dream interpretation and can help me out, that’d be cool, comments are welcome.

Goodnight, blogging family!

 

Salt and Sanity

What a crazy month. If I’m not doing homework, I’m in class or at the gym or trying to come home to work and see people. It’s been a heavy weight, hard to bear. But today has been good; I’ve gotten a lot done today.

***

I’m still having a hard time without Misty. She was always there for me when I came home. She was my only motivation for spending the night in my own bed. Now I feel very alone, swimming in a sea of empty blankets every time I try to sleep. It’s much less restful.

I haven’t been able to do everything I want to when I go home. I overbook. I’m grateful to have that problem, in a way; there are too many people I love and want in my life that I just can’t make time for all of them in a single weekend. It’s a nice problem.

I’m also grateful, once again, for home. Reflecting on how far you’ve come as a person while trying to give advice to a coworker really humbles you. I will forever cherish the hectic shifts that transform into some serious bonding. I’ve realized drinking is a great way to make connections (not that that had stopped me before).

I’ve also realized I’ve got too much going on. I’m taking some time to take care of myself, but it would be nice if I had a little help every now and then.

Even now there are certain things I must leave unsaid.

***

I’ve mentioned my crazy dreams. Last night I had one in which I was dying. I had watched two friends get shot and they died in front of me. I was slowly slipping too (though more likely from the dream than from this world).

I remember panicking because I didn’t know what would come next. Was this just the end? Would I be reborn? Would I find my loved ones in the afterlife? Or was there simply darkness?

I’m not sure what it means, and I’m panicking over too many other things to worry about this existential crisis. But I’ve personally thought that the mind was so powerful that whatever it believed, whatever religion it practiced, is what would happen to that person. It’ll vary worldwide, but that’s just what I thought. Think? I’m not sure.

However I am sure that I’m nodding off while writing this. I’ve never been more exhausted in my life, which usually leads to good, hard sleeps.

Sorry I couldn’t be more reflective and insightful, but thank you for sticking with me and continuing to peek into my mind.