Thursday, June 21, 2012

Oh, Take Me Back to the Start

Just to let you know, I am still going to be writing for myself on here. I know that some people read it, but I do just want to write for me. If you like it, then we will just count that as a bonus. But I'm not trying to impress, wow, or inspire. Really, I just want to write about a person trying to live her life the best that she knows how and needs a place for her words to be heard and recorded in the vast expanse of the internet. She just wants to know that her existence is marked somewhere in the world. I have a site all my own, it makes me feel bigger. It is like I have a place to call my own that makes me matter, it makes me important.

We are human. We feel the desire to be wanted and loved. In order to do that we feel like we have to be normal. The media tells us that in order to be loveable and wanted that you need to be unique. But you cannot be too unique because then you are weird and no one wants someone who is weird. But you cannot be too normal because then you do not stand out in the crowd. How are you supposed to grow up and be grounded in a world like this?

There are so many things that I do because I think it will make me normal. Being home, I've noticed it more so. I make tea or something like it every night because it makes me feel like I have a routine. Something that I like to do is think in images, as though everything I do is a snapshot in some scrapbook that exists only in my mind. I see myself sipping tea, curled up on the couch in my sweatpants, and I think "that is normal". I feel like Meg Ryan and she is normal and I like it. When that happens, it is easier to ignore all of the strange things going on in my head. And there are many. This makes me feel that in some alternate universe I can live and thrive in a normal society. Also, it gives me time to sit in the kitchen alone and cry. Crying is not because it is sad, sometimes it is because that is just the way that things go, but I cry recently because it is a release for emotions.

Tonight I cried because my new job is stressful, I am not getting my old one done, and nothing is going the way I planned. There are so many things that I keep failing on, that I just can't get right. I cannot keep track of the blogs and I am too tired to really sit down and get them done. Maybe I'll just have to up the meds, we'll see. But that is one major thing that I'm not doing right. I need to pay for school next year. Mom and Dad have done more than enough and as of right now, I am not in debt and I would like to keep it that way. I'm hitting the gym everyday and that makes me feel great. I'm finally starting to feel good about my body, and that seems to be the one thing that I can control in my life. It also allows me to get out of the house, other than going to work. Independence, even in theory, is a beautiful thing.

But I just kind of sort of broke down tonight. I feel so unwanted and alone some times. There are people who try to get to know me, and I really appreciate it. They make an effort to like me as a person, but somehow it just never quite works out. There is always something about me that people find off-putting, but they try to put it behind them. But that little funny thing keeps popping up.

There is a huge amount of me that no one will ever get. I cannot think about anyone who would ever really understand where I am coming from or make me feel like where I was coming from mattered in some insignificant way. My dad kind of beat that dead horse tonight when he told me that we, as ADDers, have these great imaginations and anectdotes but they really aren't that great and let's be real and understand that no one cares. I wasn't upset because that was news to me, it upset me because I knew that it was true and I just do not have anything else to do. No one, and that means no one, wants to hear my stories. It is a truth universally acknowledged that I am a better listener than story teller, but sometimes I just need someone to listen and make me feel like my puny existence makes this world even a little better. Not even that much, just that it does not make the world worse. Thank you Dad for reminding me of that painfully real fact. "Dear Emily, no one cares. No one cares to understand. You will live forever in your mind and no one can comprehend how different it is in there than out here."

This is a long week, so this post is showing it. Just some thought that I want to add is from the hymn, "How Great Thou Art". This is one of my favorite hymns. I've learned a new meaning to the line "Oh Lord, My God, when I in awesome wonder consider all the worlds thy hands have made..." The worlds exist on this planet, each person sees the world differently. They create their own world that is based on the surroundings they find themselves living in.

Friday, June 1, 2012

Kaleidoscope Heart

The moon is shining through my window onto my arm and it makes me feel so at home. I've downed a couple glasses of Cocacola, I am on episode seven of Deep Space Nine, and there is no sign of sleep in the next few hours.

What the fetch is exo-archaeology?

Moving on. Moonlight is so beautiful, isn't it? It does the same thing that rain and snow does, it almost exposes the nature of the true spirit of each person. When it shines on someone's face, truth becomes the only language that anyone can speak. Walking through heavy rain causes people to reveal their essential, transient beings. They make a conscious decision to become one of two people. One person would run through the rain, having raindrops fall into their eyes and sting and cause them to run faster and become annoyed with each and every drop that hits them. They are thinking ahead, to the party that night, the time they'll see someone that they think cares about the way they look, or how they have to change clothes because all they are wearing has become slightly damp.

The second person is the one who walks through the rain, every cell of their being rejoicing in the feeling of living that the falling droplets give. Exhilaration rushes through their veins as they take the time to simply live. They take that moment, those few minutes that will never occur again in all the history of the earth, and they make it count. They make it memorable. They could have let it go past and it would just become another rain, nothing remarkable about it at all. But they don't, they ask "why" in response to society's imposition of image and they tell society that it is wrong.

Okay, that may have been a little exaggerated, but bear with me as I learn to love language again. I've been reading too much Jack Kerouac. He tends to do the same thing. I want it to be known, I read On the Road before it was cool. Hipster for life.

There are so many different images of what I want to be. That is how I think, a lot of the time, in images. One of them is the writer sitting around a loft in New York writing a novel of some sort or another. Each stroke her fingers lends brilliance and eloquence to her plot. Nothing is silly and everything is just perfect. She is comfortable and all she needs is a cup of tea to keep her going.

Here is a very brief summary of things that I want/want to be like/etc. Just some thoughts. Enjoy. I'm going back to my Final Frontier.