It's Business Time

"It's business it's business time"

you know, that song from Flight of the Concords? Well it's about this guy not having sex with his girlfriend and knowing it's not going to happen once she puts her socks and big tshirt on.

I feel like I did that to my creativity. I put on my business skirt and started thinking in that way that will most likely get me a job and in lieu of all that I completely stopped my creativity from flowing. I created a business- dam for my artistic outlook and now look where it's gotten me, following all the stupid business rules to try to get a job and a little miserable because the whimsy has exited out of my life. I didn't purchase bubbles the other day because it was in irresponsible purchase ... WHO AM I!? Isn't that the point!? When are bubbles ever considered a responsible purchase?

I have lost who I am in the world of jobs and careers. I'm going to get that back starting today. Instead of going to work I am going to do things that nourish me, and then once I find a job I'm going to make sure to take time to do the same and not get sucked into the life-eating world of money money money.

I need to write. It hit me again when I was watching the Emmys and Jane Lynch gave her speech saying "We're actors because we have no choice" that's how it is with writing. A professor said that once too, why are you a writer - no one ever says it's because I'll make tons of money doing it, it's because we have no choice but to write. There is something screaming down inside me waiting to get out and I don't even have to figure it out first before I write it, I just do it and then it goes.

Which reminds me of a strange dream I had last night about telling someone that everything in literature is there for a reason, nothing is fluff or filler.

Regardless, I'm done being so business minded it has not served me well. not at all.

My secret

Sometimes when I'm lying in bed I become afraid to fall asleep like I always do because of the dark and the noises and it makes me think about how when I'm with you I'm not afraid to do anything. Anything. You made me not afraid to be myself. And I miss how your hand slipped into mine sometimes while you snored louder than me.


Thanks for teaching me that it's okay to be myself, but I still can't hold my own hand while I sleep. Trust me, I've tried.

Home

There is really NOTHING better than sitting on my bed with both windows open, watching my curtains blow in the breeze and feeling it on my feet while I read.

Seriously. It is the best, I have required a cross-breeze since I was five years old, living in a dorm with one window for four years was torture.

Let's hear it for the cross-breeze! YAY air!



Also, natural light is the best. Screw lightbulbs.





......................................................................heh. heh. get it?

Things that are Difficult to Realize

1. I do not care about monetary success, but without money I can't do the things I want to do (ie. take adventures)
2. I am not, nor will I probably ever be, a funny blogger. Reality sucks.
3. It is difficult to commit to only one project at a time.
4. Nothing is like a band-aid, that analogy sucks and does not really work.
5. Sometimes it is okay to do nothing all day long. Productivity does not have to be an all the time every day thing.


Probably other things too but this is what I've got so far. Whatever I'm over the whole thing

adventure photos

Maybe I am more sensitive to the topic right now and that is why I have been noticing all the adventurous photos put up on Facebook by kids my age now. It seems like everyone has the "on a mountain" "in a large field" "next to an exotic animal" "jumping off a waterfall" picture that you know really means "I did study abroad and didn't learn anything for 5 months but did some pretty awesome shit and spent a lot of money". I am clearly bitter about it. Probably because if I were to take the "adventure I'm on right now" photos, the album would include profiles of all my coworkers, of course, images of me standing atop the copy machines I have tackled this summer, the dark office I have survived like crawling through a dark flooded cave, my sunshiney room as a huge field of freedom and portraits of my family sitting around the dinner table - obviously in comparison to the "we did thanksgiving dinner together in a different country and made our own traditions" image from study abroad.

Ahh the parody never ends.

Off to tame the wild beasts of my backyard now, erm, I mean, read in my backyard next to a wasps nest whilst swatting at them.

Sweet sweet post-grad life.

home

your arms are my shelter, your eyes are my home.

I feel more at home when I'm not at home. When I'm traveling away from "home" to wherever I want to be more than that. Ever since I've been working I make my work schedule into a malleable one, something flexible so I am not tied to one place. I need travel like I need air.

The wind is my shelter and wherever it carries me is home. I do not like the feeling of a house being a home. I hate it, especially since I have not had one that is mine yet, maybe that's the problem. This past year school finally felt like home, but not my room. My room was only home when we were in it together ignoring everyone else outside. Otherwise the rest of the campus was home. Here this place that I grew up in and is supposed to be my home, does not feel like home at all. It feels dissonant and strange, like some house modeled after my home but that has a different smell, or the color on the walls is just too off-white. Something is different and it is no longer home. I'm the one that is different.

The fodder and folly that my family wants me to write a book about is good, great material, but it's not material. It's not something I can write down and record and it will be funny or it will create a book. It is just us, just our interactions, just how we are together. This is where I come from, people who are neurotic and controlling, who know everything about everything but can recognize when they are being ridiculous. People who can laugh at themselves and difficult situations. I come from a sick sense of humor that finds morbidity strange and hilarious because sometimes feeling sad is out of the question. From tough people, people who are serious and joke in the same sentence, who muse and idealize and imagine. This is where I'm from and this is how I got this way.

the bad ones.

Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for." -Bob Marley


I think it's safe to say I've suffered quite a bit. Pretty much at my own hands because I like to fall for the ones not worth it and they always provide senseless suffering.


But Bobby M. was right, and the ones who are worth it - it's a whole different ball game of suffering that life has left me unprepared for.

No words can do these feelings justice. It's a sad day for writers, kids.