non sequitur

I'm feeling down today. The finality of certain situations is really resonating with me today, and my emotions are in full swing. I am feeling loss - the effect of missed opportunities coupled with helplessness to change the past, or to change people. For a few years now I've wondered how this would all turn out. Would this strong emotion I've tried to bury for so long finally be proven right, or would it be just another wrong? Would I get my happy ending? In a few short weeks, it will all be over. Decisions and plans are being made at this very moment. And it seems that that happy ending will not be coming my way. Today I am feeling a strong desire to make a choice. Choice No. 1 would be to accept the way things have turned out, to grow up and learn the lesson that I'm sure is in there somewhere. Choice No. 2 would be to fight - hard - for what I have wanted for so long and believe I deserve. Happiness. But it won't work. I am not strong enough. And my heart is breaking.

(Apologies for the vagueness, friends. This is me throwing thoughts into the ether.)

a selfish post, so bear with me

Geez, I've been thinking a lot lately. About all sorts of things, as you may have noticed from recent posts. I just had a thought just now that relates to a thought I had last night. The thought I was having last night was that I find myself nearly impossible to categorize. I have some thoughts and opinions that may tend to put me in one "group" but those opinions are constantly fluctuating, and are always subject to change. I can recall times when I've said the complete opposite thing about myself than I've said before. (Does that make sense?) For example, in different conversations with different people at different times, I've said that I do not want to get married, that I'd like to get married but I realistically don't see it ever happening, that I always have hope and believe that I will some day get married, that I want to have kids, that I don't want to have kids and would rather adopt. Sometimes I don't even know what's true. Do I say things to be agreeable in some cases, and just to be contrary in others? Or are my moods so erratic that I really do change my mind that often? How do I know what's really true about myself? Even things as simple as my wardrobe are unfocused and wishy-washy. I've got clothes ranging from a lacy white bolero, to a brown hippie dress, to pants with chains hanging from them. Though maybe this is good because, given the right outfit and attitude, I can fit in anywhere.

The thought I was having this morning somewhat contradicted the one from last night. One thing I am sure of about myself is that I've never been one to choose any one person and call that person my best friend, which is why you'll hear me refer to some people as "one of my best friends." Ever since I was very small, I've said that I don't have a best friend, I have several very good friends. I always have said that I never wanted to have just one best friend because I didn't want those friends who were not labeled my "best" friend to feel hurt. Though this morning, I came to a different conclusion, and I'm actually surprised I'd never thought of it before. Maybe the reason I've never had a singular best friend is that I am afraid that I won't be that person's best friend in return - and that I will actually be the one to get hurt. I'm not exactly sure what's been triggering this bout of introspect, but I kinda wish it would go away.

Things I know for sure about myself:
I never call anyone "my best friend"
I'd rather fix something than buy a new one
I procrastinate
I'm not tidy
I like doing crafts and admiring my handiwork
I love baking, but hate cooking
I sometimes have to force myself to be sociable when all I want is to be alone
My default facial expression is a frown
I'm vain about my hands
I can sit around doing nothing better than anyone I know
I like dogs ... and cats ... but not birds ... unless they're wild birds ...

woman on the verge

I am not having a good time. I am really trying hard to stay positive about things, but on days like today, it's close to impossible. I don't want to sound like I'm complaining or that I want people to feel sorry for me, because I know that many people are worse off than I am, and I want nothing more than for things to just get better. In a very general sense. I just need to get a few things off my chest. Maybe if I write about them, transfer my worries to (virtual) paper, they won't plague my mind so much.

About a month and a half ago, I started getting migraines. They were initially caused by something that you would ABSOLUTELY NOT want to cause them. I won't go into further detail for fear of being far too open on a public forum. But suffice it to say that this complicates my life much more that it already is. If you only knew. But, even after the "pounders" stopped happening (whether because of the drugs, or time), I was (and am) still getting headaches. Every single freaking day. Some are not so bad and I can go almost 24 hours without taking some kind of pain reliever, but some are pretty intense and can impede on my routine. When I visited the doctor, he was less than sympathetic. For the first time in my life, I felt like my physician wasn't interested in helping me. The same physician who I've been going to since I was 10, who saw me through my whole Takayasu's Arteritis ordeal, who knows more about my medical history than anyone on this earth. My Mom was in the exam room with me, and when she asked if a certain thing has ever been known to trigger migraines, not necessarily hinting that that was my cause, he laughed while telling us of the one patient of his who claimed to have that trigger, following up with, "Can you imagine that?" I was shocked. "That's what caused mine," I said flatly. He left the room. I didn't understand his reaction to my Mom's question. Did he not believe his other patient, and therefore not believe me? Did he not understand how this could seriously damage a person's life? This was just the very beginning of what I discovered to be a widespread apathy towards migraine sufferers by non-sufferers. For some reason, unless they've personally experienced one, or are close to someone who has, most people don't understand that a migraine is more than just a bad headache. Bear with me for a moment while I attempt to illustrate what my migraines felt like. Imagine someone has just drilled a hole in your head, near the base of your skull, and now they are slowly pouring acid into that hole in your skull, and with every beat of your heart, that acid gets pumped through your brain, slowly burning its way through your brain cells, rendering you completely incapacitated until the pain subsides. And even when it does subside, some hours later, it's still the worst headache you've ever had. No position is comfortable, nothing eases the pain except time, and even that is unreliable. Not to mention, the other symptoms that can accompany the debilitating pain. I am led to believe that my migraines are different than most peoples' in that I only experienced the nausea, and not the sensitivity to light and sound, and that lying down made my pain worse, as opposed to better. But regardless of the accompanying symptoms, the pain is something I would not wish on my worst enemies. The world stops when you have a migraine, only it doesn't. You still have the same responsibilities, you just are physically incapable of upholding them. This was the worst of it. These happened off and on over two weeks. I missed a lot of work, even more social activities, and I practically moved in with my parents just so I wouldn't be alone. After I started to feel a bit better, and had a few drugs in my arsenal, I went home again. But I still had the memory of walking around my apartment in the worst pain I had ever been in. Any activity that had preceded one of these headaches was now frightening to me. I wondered whether I'd get another one every time I walked up or down the stairs, every time I did my laundry, every time I parked my car, every time I went to the bathroom, every time I woke up in the morning. These were not true triggers, but events that had happened immediately before I got a "pounder" in the days following the initial trigger and headache - kind of like an aftershock. (I apologize if this is a bit confusing - I'm not sure it makes complete sense to me either.) I took it easy for the next few weeks, while still trying to force myself to do those things again that I was afraid of. I had to get back to my life. And for the most part, I have. However, I still get a headache every single day. At any given moment, I've got some drug in my system, whether it be Relpax, Excedrin Migraine, naproxen, or something else. I can't kick these things. My sleep is crap lately, and I'm tired ALL the time. Tylenol PM, or a muscle relaxer are sometimes necessary for me to get a restful sleep, though I learned earlier this week that with my early work hours, taking these things on a weeknight is not such a good idea. The problem is that I don't want to rely on drugs to get me through the day. And there are these things called rebound headaches that happen after a medication wears off. I don't know if what I'm getting are rebound headaches or not, but I'd sure like to know how to get rid of them. I try over and over again to just not take anything and hope the pain goes away, but 100% of the time, it just ends up getting worse and forcing my hand. Every day I wonder if I'm going to have a headache for the rest of my life.

Jeez, that was detailed. And thorough. God willing, I'll never have to mention it again. I just want it to go away. I am going to make a desperate plea right now that any comments not contain any suggestions as to how to treat my headaches. Because chances are, I've already tried it. Thanks for your understanding.

If only this was my only problem. But I did not intend to write quite so much about the headaches (I guess I needed to vent more than I realized), so I think I will leave it at that. In the process of releasing my stress and worries into the void, I do not want to inadvertently inflict any of it onto my friends, so this is where I will stop. I think this is enough for one day, don't you?

festering pit of negativity

That's me.

I feel irritated by everyone around me. I feel slighted and unwanted by the people I try to reach out to. I feel like no one is listening to me. But most of the time I don't even have anything to say.

Work is fine but I don't have any friends here anymore. People seem to tolerate my presence, rather than enjoy it. The apartment is beginning to shape up, but being in that place means that I'm alone. I enjoy being alone when my time is peppered with other social activities, but not when there is no end in sight. It's not a good thing to sleep for four hours in the middle of the day for no reason other than I have nothing else to do. And the social interactions I have had as of late have felt forced and unnatural.

It's not that I'm lacking things to look forward to. Summer is about to begin and soon the city will be chock full of activity. But somehow it isn't bring me any joy like it's supposed to - like it has every summer before. I just can't seem to connect.

Gonna post this now, but most likely it will be deleted in a day or two after I start to feel embarrassed for sharing so much.

do you hear what I see?

Something I've come to realize about myself over the years is that I am a very visual person. I discovered in college that I learned best by seeing things written down on paper, as opposed to hearing it spoken aloud. I'd remember reading specific sentences and even know approximately where they were on a page, but I could convince myself that a lecturing professor said the complete opposite of what he actually said. Knowing this, you'd think I'd learn to take really good notes and play to my strengths ... but alas, my laziness usually won out over my desire to be a good student. How I managed to graduate with a decent GPA, I'll never know.

A more recent example of this trait of mine (and the thought that triggered this post), is the way I tend to describe the concerts I go to. I have been going to quite a few of them as of late, and when people ask me how they were, I go into great detail about what the venue was like, who was in the crowd, how the stage was set up, and what the performers looked like, or what they wore. The music itself usually gets a much shorter description. Sometimes as concise and vague as, "It was good." It's not that I don't enjoy the music at a concert. I love music! And that's the reason you go to a concert in the first place. I guess it's just that visual images make more of an impression on me than aural. The experience of going to a concert involves all of the senses, and though the focus is on what you hear, my most trusted sense is my vision, so that's what really sticks with me. It's only in those rare instances when the emotions evoked by the music mesh perfectly with what my other senses are experiencing that the music itself leaves a lasting impression. Or perhaps it's just because I am not as good with descriptions of sounds as I am with images. What's that saying? "Talking about music is like singing about architecture"? I think I may have that wrong. But I believe that statement is very true.

On the topic of how one experiences a concert, I've also realized that my experiences are shaped largely by outside influences. For example, last night, Jillybean and I went to the Sufjan Stevens show at the Riv. The crowd there seemed to be very young - much younger than I would have expected, actually. There were several groups of high school aged kids around the area we were standing, and I realized afterwards that they ended up giving me a slightly lower opinion of the concert than I might have had otherwise. There was a kid to one side of us who was shouting annoying requests between each song. There was a girl next to me who kept bumping me with her purse in the same spot on my shoulder over and over again (though this could have been anyone, not necessarily a teenager). And THEN. Then there was the kid behind us, who will, in my memory, always be known as the "Oh My God!" guy. Let's just say he was VERY EXCITED to see Sufjan. So much so that between every song, he'd shout "Oh My God!" like he just couldn't believe that Sufjan Stevens was right there in front of him. Seriously, you'd have thought he was having an orgasm each time he said it. Oh, and his breathing was erratic and very heavy. I know because I could feel it on the back of my neck through the entire show, whipping my hair into my face, even though he was a couple feet behind me.

And those are the things that I'm going to remember most about that concert. Those people in the crowd, the butterfly costumes that the band was wearing, and the fact that for most of the show, all I could see of Mr. Stevens was the end of his guitar and the tip of his wing (too many tall people).

But the music was very good. :)

Mawwiage is what bwings us togevah today ...

I don't know what's gotten into me lately, but I just can't stop thinking about marriage and having kids and a family and a dog and picket fence and all that jazz. Well, I partially know where it's coming from. The woman who sits in the cube across from me is getting married this summer and is neck deep in wedding plans, so I'm hearing all about that. But other than that, I guess I've just come to that age when this stuff seems to be more important than it ever was before.

I've always had mixed opinions about marriage. I've never really been sure if it's for me. Partly because my pessimistic side thinks I'll never be able to find someone willing to marry me (and of course, that I am willing to marry). And partly because I've seen so many failed marriages, or even marriages that perhaps should have failed but managed to "succeed" even though both parties were unhappy for the majority of it. I mean, is it worth it? When there's kids involved, are they really better off with two parents who are constantly at each others' throats, or would they have happier childhoods if their parents were separated/divorced but happier as single people, or in other relationships? I just don't know.

But divorce isn't really what I intended to write about here. My point is that I think I finally detected my tiny little biological clock. I don't know if you really have one of those for getting married, but marriage is (generally) the beginning of the whole "starting a family" thing, so I think it relates. Now don't get me wrong, I've always (always always) wanted to have a wedding and walk down the aisle in the gorgeous white dress with all my family and friends present, and then throw a really big party. But in that dream, the groom's face has always been mysteriously blank, except for the big-ass smile on his face when he turns to see me coming down the aisle towards him. For the most part, this fantasy has kept me pretty happy because it always only meant one day of fun, then the honeymoon and then that was it. But lately I've been thinking a lot about marriage. I mean MARRIAGE marriage. (Geez, if you say that too many times it sounds really wierd.) You know, where you find the one person who you want to spend the REST OF YOUR LIFE with, and then you do just that. And then in the middle somewhere, you decide to create another little person (or two) together. One who is half you and half your partner. I mean, it's kind of a crazy concept when you think about it, but it is so hardwired into our heads and so instinctual, that even the most hermit-like of loners I am sure has wanted that at some point or other.

I have several friends who are happily married. At times I envy them for that. I enjoy my (perpetual) singledom most of the time, but some days I start to wonder how much longer it is going to go on. Maybe I'd like to have someone to take care of, and who will take care of me. Maye one day I'd like to have a baby. Whether it's merely a biological desire to pass on my genes, or I really want to usher another person through this crazy-wierd "life" thing, I don't know. But I think that the small part of me that wants to do the so-called normal thing of getting married and having kids is growing a little bit stronger. I look at my friends with children (and those who are planning to soon have children) and instead of thinking, "Man, I am not ready for that," I find myself thinking "I wonder if I'll ever have that?"

I am wrong about a lot of things, and a lot of people. I let my imagination run away with me. I meet someone and I assign them a role in my head. Occasionally someone will be cast as the love interest, but they generally drop out before rehearsals even begin. Even less often, someone I've known as a friend for a while will decide midway through the production to take off his mask. I'll see something in him that I never saw before. I'll think about recasting, but before I can sign the papers, he'll put the mask back on again. Only it's slightly askew. He'll never look quite the same to me and I'll always wonder if he's playing the right part. I can't help thinking that so many people in my life have been miscast. But in this crazy mixed up theatre in my head, there's nothing I can do about it. My whole life thus far has just been Act I, and I'll never get to Act II because I am incapable of casting the lead.

Sorry for the metaphors here folks, but I just can't think of a better way to talk about this. Anyway, I think the point of this entry is that my views on marriage and children and families etc. are changing. I'm finding myself wanting things I've never really wanted (or thought I wanted) before, and I don't know what to do about it. People are looking different to me. Life is looking different to me. I know I'm in kind of an odd mood today (I described it to a friend at work as feeling like I've stepped into someone else's life), so maybe that has something to do with it. But no, this is something I've been thinking about for a while. But I don't know. My thoughts are really scattered and I wouldn't be surprised if this whole entry is complete gibberish. But after all, I am mostly writing this for myself, to get my thoughts out. If someone happens to read it, what do I care? If they understand and/or relate, then good. I'm glad I could say something that actually meant something to someone. If nobody understands what the hell I am talking about, then join the club, because I don't think I know either. Then again, I never do.

maybe tomorrow I'll be happy

It's only 9 a.m. and I'm already having "one of those days." You know, one of those days when you're just tired of life. I'm tired of caring and feeling and being affected by the world around me. Today I wish I could turn off my brain and my emotions and just be a robot and go through my life doing what needs to be done and that's it. I'm tired of pain, physical and emotional, I'm tired of disappointment, of dissatisfaction, of caring about others who won't care about me, and of feeling like I'm trudging through mud just to make it to the end of the day. I'm afraid I'm going to break down one of these days and my body will completely fall apart and disintigrate. Best case scenario, it will make me numb to the world and I won't have to care anymore. I try to focus on the Self to relax and make the world go away, but it's harder that you'd think it would be to separate the Self from the people and the situations that surround it. Who are we without others? We are what we think, but aren't many of those thoughts put there by others? We are what we like, but aren't those things created by others? We are what we do, but aren't we doing those things for others?

I feel overwhelmed by thoughts and controlled by emotions and it makes me very tired. I need to shut down. Reboot. I need a long sleep. And I'll wake up when my brain is clear and my spirit enlightened.

Well, I've had this thing for two and a half years now and I'm just getting around to posting my second entry. Shows just how dedicated I really am. But in all seriousness, I'm itching for an outlet these days (not to mention I'm really bored at work), so perhaps this go-round will be more lucrative.

So, where to begin ... ?

A little about myself (seems like the place to start):
I've never had a blog before, and the idea is a bit disorienting to me. I've written in countless journals that no one reads, and written countless mass e-mails that everyone in my address book reads (or maybe no one), but I'm not exactly sure where a blog falls in that spectrum. Theoretically, anyone (everyone) could read it, but why would they? And how would they even come across it if they didn't already know it was there, which they wouldn't unless I or someone they knew told them? Do I tell everyone I know that I have a blog or is that dumb? The truth is that I don't know (my guess is that it's dumb). So I'll just write in this thing and hope that somebody (or nobody) reads it.

But that really isn't about me, is it.

Here's something about me. Today I have a cold. I've had this cold since last Friday at Rory's birthday party. If you know Rory, tell him I say hi, I had fun at his party, and hope he had a happy birthday. Now he's as old as me, which can feel pretty old sometimes. Especially when you have a cold and you sound like Bea Arthur. It started out as a sore throat. I still had it the next day at Eric's birthday party (but Eric is not nearly as old as me - he's one). Eric is a very cute baby who looks just like his dad but with his mother's bright blue eyes. I'm glad I know him. Monday my condition worsened (forgot to mention that I went to IKEA on Sunday with no incidence), as I woke up unable to breathe and spent the entire day sneezing. Seriously, the entire day. Except at lunch when my coworkers and I discussed who among the company's employees were normal and who were carnies. The carnies greatly outnumbered the normals, in case you were hoping for some conclusion on the matter. Tuesday there was no change, except maybe for the topic of discussion at lunch ... though I'm pretty sure carnies were mentioned again. I awoke this morning, still sneezing, and coughing on top of that, and I avoided the lunchroom talk of carnies because I felt like one and was afraid I'd be discovered. And now there's two and a half hours till I can go home and put together my new IKEA furniture, and sneeze and cough some more, and listen to the Shins CD that Adam from work (not a carnie)burned for me last week.

Until next time.