Life has been, new as of late and I cannot complain. Change is always tough to grasp at first and if I am honest, it's still settling in my bones. From time to time I crave what I once knew, but that is to be expected. It's only when I really let it sink in that I realize, I am only seeking comfort and how settled I felt. Which is good and great, but not always healthy. I hope we all have bright and better futures ahead of us. What else do I expect? Everyone I know is talented, they'll do just fine. I just hope I can do the same. And new experiences are great as well and I had two of those in one trip! The weekend was pretty fantastical... I just won't share it here. Because I don't feel like typing it all out. Just because I'm awesome. Enjoy the photos that go along with this, actual journal update here on this very site that you are on... ha.
I have decided to start going to a counselor, I figured it's about time anyhow. The best comment I heard about it was, "I suppose it's best you work it out now, so you don't have to deal with it once you're older." That's a great point. I'm down with counseling. So we shall see how it goes, still nervous about it all. I felt weird answering certain questions like, from one to five how depressed do you get. Which is a point system based on just how bad it can be... to me is like comparing it to other people in what is a norm of depression? I'm not sure I'd be there if I knew what normal was, I mean I feel that I'm normal but that is only because I don't know what it's like to be anybody else. Sometimes I wonder what it's like to be me.
I read today that Vonnegut said, If it's clear when you are writing, your mind most likely doesn't work the way you think it does.
This is one of the few times I write and don't, edit, edit, edit... mumble to myself what I wrote... edit, edit.. throw away and start it all over again. I feel as though writing is one of the few things I'm really good at. I can play music, make jokes, shoot movies, act... but writing is what I really enjoy doing. Only because I can see progress in it and well, I enjoy sharing. There is nothing like taking an adventure and creating a story based on reality and fiction. It feels good, spiritual even. To take people you know and situations, analyze them to make sense in some fantasy realm. Everything seems more real to me while I perform a delicate operation, cutting life open and carefully extracting what I want. Then in a Frankenstein manner, I create a new living breathing creature, one of my creation and perception. A monster of what it is I see in my daily life. How I see me and everyone else, both a gift and curse. Just as anything in life can be.
Also, the pictures don't really go with what I'm writing... I just like to look at them. (Borrowing a few from Mon-mon.)
Well, I don't know what else I can really update here... I never really keep a steady journal in the sense of laying myself out there. Normally it's in prose, story form or random nonsense... so I have no real layout and I love me some structure! My own structure, but structure none the less.I am excited for whatever is to come and I love the people I know. Though, I do expect everyone to leave me constantly, I never really want to allow myself to believe it. Each time I say I know no one will leave or get annoyed with me, it seems to happen. I'm not sure how else to look at life, perhaps it's my despair and self-conscious behavior that makes me so cynical. I wish to change that, hopefully with writing and counseling I can find a good medium of focusing my cynicism into writing, keeping people involved in my world. Being heard finally like Holden Caufield. Making sure the reader doesn't leave thinking they wasted a moment of time, I apologize if you feel you wasted time reading this. ahaha I'm not gonna read over this nor edit it. If I do that it wouldn't be a free flowing journal entry as I wished it to be. I will end on a picture of myself! So, until we talk one on one again, latez.
p.s. If anyone reads this that knows me or just knows of me through reading, what was your first perception of me? First thoughts during our first meeting.
1 comment:
The first time I really remember meeting you (correct me if I'm wrong) was the evening of Red Rover by the hill. I thought you were so kind because you lent me your red lumberjack-esque jacket, despite the fact that I told you you'd probably never get it back. You got it back. And you're still really lovely.
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