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Aching. That's what I'm feeling today. Evidence of flu and pneumonia shots are throbbing in my arms, and my chest feels as though it's been stood upon by a 200-pound man with big feet. My kitten consoled me through the night by patting my nose and mouth with his soft little paws. Eventually biting and clawing became his way and I had to roll over. My boss is silent toward me today; it's his way of showing me that my work has been less than exemplary. I should probably get back to work-at least get back to looking busy.
Why do I scrutinize my words and actions so much? Do others really perceive me as the total bitch that I make myself out to be? I'm betting so. That would at least explain some of the shitty attitudes I've encountered recently. Perhaps it's the Taurus moon…or the dismal state of the world…maybe it's this wonderful Ohio weather. If I could just work on this personality flaw of mine, maybe I'd be a happier person. Maybe I'd have more friends than I could count, a job that I love, and wonderful, fulfilling relationships with my family members and boyfriend…maybe. Contagious.
What a beautiful day to be healthy and full of energy! I spent the afternoon and part of the evening with my mom. We shopped, drank coffee, smoked cigarettes, and talked about everything from (shitty) world affairs to theology. I wonder if she thinks it’s a shame that we didn’t have this kind of relationship when I was a teenager living at home? I suppose those difficult years were necessary in order to make us the people we are today…I say that to combat the feelings of guilt associated with my younger years. Why did I make things so difficult?
All college students look the same. Yes, this is a broad and mostly untrue generalization. Was this the case when I was in college? (I'm in college now, for the record, but as a "returning adult student". That just means that I fucked up the first time I tried being a student and have now returned to try and finish what I started.) Does the majority not identify with the need for individuality? Where did this herd mentality come from? If I would have followed along blindly back then, would I be a happier person now? Signs point to no.
Stress; Bother; Anxiety; Ulcer: Words associated with my state of being at the present time. I was NOT prepared for classes at the beginning of fall quarter. I’ve managed to dig myself a hole complete with late assignments, skipped classes, and a professor whose shit list boasts my name. And, then there’s the stage show I refer to as work! All of these terrible things are brought to me exclusively by my lack of motivation and poor time management skills. Sadly, realizing that this is my own fault does not bring much comfort. More painful to have an excuse, though…
I remember listening to Linda Rondstat when I was a kid. My mom used to play her albums on the weekends while she cleaned. Kenny Rogers, Don Williams, the Judds; all appearing in Mom's special collection of cleaning tunes. My big brother introduced me to the music of Hank Williams Jr. when I was about 10 years old. I remember idolizing my brother's girlfriend and wanting to be just like her when I got older. I would give just about anything to go back in time; to escape grim reality. Sadly, I'll listen to my secret cd collection and remember.
Love. I’m too sensitive. I don’t comprehend the ways of men and what it is that they need from women. Affection? Devotion? Nurturing? A woman as tough as nails with killer abs? A delicate flower with the heart of an angel? Who does a frumpy, emotional, selfish, wilting flower satisfy and fulfill? Rather than ponder these timeless questions, I suppose I should ask myself want I want in a man. A man that understands what I need without having to ask. A strong man who tolerates…no, embraces my emotional nature and appreciates that I’m trying. I am work in progress.
Ohio's weather is quite delightful today. The air is crisp reminding me of the frost blanket not yet melted away by the sun. Cardinals and chickadees were enjoying their breakfast this morning at their feeders in my backyard. The trees are almost bare and all of my flowers are dead. In a little over a month, the wheel of the year will turn once again and I will celebrate the birth of the Sun God. A friend advised me recently to find beauty amidst the collective despair we're facing…what else can one do, after all? He's right. this is beauty.
I went to a monthly meeting of Goddesses in Real Life (GiRL) this evening. I’ve been a part of this loosely organized club for about 2 years. We’re a pagan spirituality circle and have monthly topics to discuss. I always feel so empowered after attending one of our meetings. Tonight was no exception. Although we did not have a big turnout, our circle held meaningful dialogue and plans for the future. I’ve been feeling overpowered by the need to become more philanthropically involved these days…I’m thinking I need to become a more active member of this group. Over and out…..
I recall mentioning my self-scrutinizing tendencies in an earlier post. Once again, I’ve managed to do something that made me second-guess myself and obsess over how I was perceived by others. I won’t go into the details on here, because I’ve gone over them in my mind a thousand times already. I did something yesterday that apparently made someone else angry with me. Had I simply thought before I acted, none of this would have happened. But, I didn’t think. I doubt that this person (a family member, by the way) is going to hold a grudge. Wait and see.
What did I do today? Cleaned. Ate. Cleaned. Ate. Talked on the phone. Ate. Cleaned. Drank coffee. Cleaned. I'm sure I slept at one point. Late morning, I think. Not a very eventful day, but that was absolutely fine by me. I had a busy weekend of meetings, socializing, and volunteer work. It's funny how I have spent a good portion of my life trying desperately to fit in, be part of a crowd, and have an avid social life. Now, it's as if I'm moving backwards. I don't know where I'm going with this. I had a boring day.
Is graduating from college all that I'm going to do with my life? It's necessary, I suppose, if I expect to make any sort of living. I'm not being a pessimist here; I really have no discernable talent that would provide a career path for me. I'm a damn secretary and that's all I'll ever be unless I learn a skill in college. I'm so close to finishing, yet I feel so close to giving up, too. My effort has been less than exemplary lately and my grades will certainly reflect that this quarter. Oh, I'm complaining…I should stop now.
I updated my resume today. Well, I shouldn’t call it updating-I created a new resume today. I realized how my employment history must look to others: I’ve switched jobs, like clockwork, every two years, for the last six years. Okay, so I’m only 27. Maybe it’s not that big of a deal. But, I’m kind of worried because my boss forewarned me today of possible staff cuts that may be made in the next year. I’m not exactly thrilled with my present job, but I was at least comfortable. Time to start the whole process over again. Back to discomfort.
People are so damn predictable. When they're not, there is something wrong with them and they are cast out from the rest of the herd. Am I part of the herd? If you've been reading my previous entries from this month, you'd most likely say, "Yes, you are predictable and part of the herd." I agree. But, I still know a little something about psychology and what motivates people. Why is it one can always count on: 1.Being let down by others? 2.People trying to take the easy way out? 3. A bad attitude upon confrontation of these obvious downfalls?
I am currently dreading a presentation I have to give for a class today. Giving speeches hasn't bothered me since my first public speaking class in college. For some reason, though, I have butterflies and a general feeling of trepidation about this one. I'm older than 75% of the class-I need to remember that. With age comes wisdom and confidence. Perhaps my age is what is making me so nervous. I sometimes feel self-conscious about that. One hour. One hour to change my outlook. One hour to transform myself into a buoyant, self-confident expert in my field. Breathe. Just breathe.
I feel so inspired when I read a good piece of writing. At the same time, it makes me wonder what the hell I'm doing with my life. I've been living at 70% for so long. I'm missing ambient music, swirling smoke, and novel conversation to provoke magnificent epiphanies. Where is the magic in my life? I've been a fool to occupy my mind with thoughts of monetary wealth/security. The universe has been dropping hints to me…why have I not listened? Yes, I have a VERY long way to go with this and perhaps I'll learn that I was wrong.
I'm perplexed as to how I came up with the notion that I must help everyone I encounter. Perhaps it's all the jobs in retail I've had over the years. Whatever the case, I'm slowly approaching letting go of that idea. Trying to help the lost souls in my life leaves me feeling empty and useless most of the time. If anyone really needed my help, wouldn't they simply ask me for assistance? From this day forward, I will not offer unsolicited advice to my melancholic associates. Unless they ask for help, the doctor is out. I'm sure everyone's relieved.
At 3:30 a.m., I joined a pilgrimage to the country with seven friends. We came dressed for winter, with mittens and tabogans, and packed ourselves into a van and headed for wide-open space. After a seemingly extensive journey, we arrived at our destination: 20 acres of empty land owned by one of the seven travelers. We built a fire and watched the sky. For the next 3 hours, our group watched the heavens burst with light as meteors exploded into the earth's atmosphere. Amazing. Beautiful. Experiencing this with friends made it even more treasured. 'Twas a night I'll never forget.
Blank paper. Pen. Steady hand. Vision. Insight. Vocabulary. What am I missing, here? Oh yea, a topic. No topic. Just 100 words as my template. Penholder reflects my fingers impatiently tapping. My hand shows evidence of past battles with my cat. I remember when I had small hands. I mean, really small. My high school class ring was a size 5.5. That's small considering my size now. Size was an object of obsession for me in years past. These days I value my mental health too much to dwell on what size my pants, shirts are. Tends to depress me.
Today I heard from a friend of mine who moved to Colorado recently. She's a few years younger than me and just graduated from college. She's done quite a bit of traveling, domestic and foreign, so it was no great surprise to see her uproot and take off this fall. Sadly, the way in which she lives her life reminds me of what could've been for me. I never thought that I would live such an ordinary life. When I was younger, and much more naïve, I fancied myself as becoming successful and wealthy. Today, I live. Simply. Not bad.
Pets don't love us. We tell ourselves that they care for us so that we'll feel redeemed for the work we do for them. When my kitten curls up next to (or on) me, it's not because she loves me. When she follows me through the house, nipping at my heels, it's not because she wants to be near me. The incessant meowing at my departure and gentle purring upon my arrival is not a sign of affection. My kitten does not love me. But, I love her regardless of her lack of concern. That's all that matters, I suppose.
Thanksgiving: A time to be thankful, or so they say. I have many things to be grateful for. Rarely do I take the time to thank people; such self-disclosure usually seems to make people cringe. Maybe. Anyway, thanks mom and dad for everything. Thanks to my brother and his family, too, for…everything. Sorry, but you all mean more to me than words can say. Thanks Darren, for loving me, and all that it implies. Thanks to my friends, for extending a helping hand and a caring ear when I needed them the most. This is so sappy. Sorry about that.
My mom shared some family history with me today, which is always fun. Today's tale was about the crazy mountain people that plagued my uncles. According to my mom, lunatics that would burglarize, vandalize, or sometimes completely destroy property surrounded my family's homestead. One could never really leave home without fearing the house would be set ablaze by mountain folk. How terrible that must have been (or still is?) I guess I always thought that city dwellers were the only ones who dealt with such annoyances. I've been instructed to address this at xmas when my uncles come to visit…
People really are getting fatter. I've heard this statistic over and over in years past, but never really taken notice before. I spent this afternoon at a flea market and this trend became disturbingly obvious to me. Is the world, in general, so miserable that the majority turns to food for comfort? Is McDonald's and Burger King so damn tasty that people can't help themselves? Are health food stores and gyms too expensive and intimidating? I know the answers to all of these because I, too, am overweight. Perhaps that's what prompted me to take notice today? Time to change.
I had a vision for our xmas tree: Silver and blue beaded garland, with silver ribbon streaming from the top, and eastern songbird ornaments "perched" within the evergreen bristles. It would have been beautiful. For some reason, though, it didn't turn out the way I had envisioned. The yellow lights could be the problem. The various ornaments collected from years past that don't match the motif are also guilty, no doubt. I can't decide if I want to start over for aesthetics' sake or keep the sentimental things on the tree. There are bigger things to worry about, I guess.
The Monday following a long weekend is oh so difficult. I always feel as though I didn't enjoy myself enough while off work. I don't know how I could have enjoyed myself more, truthfully. Like a bad hangover, I've come down with some sort of head cold following the 4 days off. As if coming back to work isn't bad enough, now I have to deal with sneezing, coughing, and aching. ARRRRGH! Today, I wrote a letter to a woman with the last name Zavasnik. Spellchecker suggested I change the spelling to Satanic. I guess today hasn't been so bad.
This morning, I'm reminded of an old co-worker of mine from a previous job. She always wore wrinkled clothing to work. Mind you, we worked in an office where professional dress was encouraged, but not necessarily required. She wore really nice business suits and dresses, but they were always wrinkled. I often envisioned her picking her clothes up off the floor in the morning, putting them on, and rushing off to work without so much as glancing at a mirror. This morning, I put on wrinkled pants and a dirty sweater. I feel like a slob. I'm going home now.
I stayed home from work today. No matter how sick I might be, I always feel bad when make that call to my boss in the morning. Days off work always go by so fast. I slept all day, practically. I didn't take any Robotussin or Nyquil to induce such slumber, either. My kitten slept on my hip all day. When she wasn't sleeping, she would simply be perched there, looking around the room with a thoughtful gaze. I woke only to eat and urinate. I felt refreshed upon rising for good, but soon returned to my sickened state. Sigh.
In the 4th grade, I got in trouble for grading a classmate's paper wrong and denying that I made the mistake. I know, without a doubt, that I didn't intentionally make the error to foil the classmate. I've always been very bad at numbers. Maybe dyslexic?? Anyway, the teacher yelled at me in class and called me to his desk where he proceeded to shake me incessantly, ranting about how I'd lied. I was mortified, embarrassed, ashamed. I didn't tell anyone. I saw this teacher last spring. He's riddled with cancer and was in a wheelchair. What a terrible man.
Well, this is it for November. 3000 words of mine submitted for your approval. I reluctantly decided to participate in this project back in October. I'm not very confident of my ability to write-even in a journal. That's mainly why I don't keep a diary. I always end up reading my entries later on and scoffing at how ridiculous I sounded. I've enjoyed writing the 3000 words, thus far. Perhaps I'll keep going and add a few thousand more in December. Should be an eventful month to reflect on, anyway. Hope I haven't bored you all too much. The end.
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