I lost a few pounds. I recited poetry at an open mic poetry night. I met a wonderful, handsome man (but I chose not to pursue anything with him for reasons). I went on adventures near and far. I worked. I freaked out and calmed myself down. I just finished rehearsing a cover with my friend that we will soon post to the internet. (I’m excited for this! I don’t ever post any videos of myself singing and I don’t sing to anyone but myself in general so…this is my way of stepping out of my comfort zone!). I’m doing things, writing my own story, painting my canvas with colors however I please…breathing, beating, on and off again.
Some would probably call it an existential crisis. Some would say it’s normal, that I am young and everything will figure itself out. I know better though. That last one was half true, about it working itself out, but I know that it’s neither of those.
The other night I had a dream, and it seemed like a normal dream. In my dream I was painting a river with a sailboat, or at least thats what I can recall. I was in a brightly lit room, and people I knew were coming and going: my mother, my sister, brothers, etc., except for someone I could barely see or remember what they look like.
This figure told me to stop painting. From what I can recall, what this person said went something like this: “you feel doubtful…pain…” “I can give you a choice…” And in that same breath, in clear words I heard, “If you paint another stroke, you can continue on and live your life as you please. But if you put the brush down, you can join me and those you once knew.”
I awoke, breathless. I felt sick so I drank water. I really felt lost. I tried not to think about it, but the first thing that came to mind was that this figure was sort of like the angel of death. What would have happened if I put the paintbrush down? Who was this person?
What really struck me was the painting. I recently began painting on canvas. I am almost done with my first painting and although its not at all a good painting it is something new. My first painting is a sailboat out at sea. The sailboat, in some paintings, is a symbol for death or moving on.
Lately, I’ve been dealing with being alone. And not the type of confinement I choose. I just am alone. My friends are gone, enjoying their summer in other places, or have moved away. And I just feel stuck. This coming semester is already dreaded. And mostly, I am just scared. Scared that I will be stuck for a very long time with opportunities that will escape me because I have this senseless sense of duty and guilt if I were to act on them. This is the rock.
Then I feel as if no matter how much I try to be positive, and work hard, and obey the laws of Like and Magnetism (I’m alluding to Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah), all my preparation will meet opportunity and I will just be one lucky gal. Besides, I cannot help but believe that my reality is what I can create, not some pre-dertemined happenstance of which I have no control. This is the hard place.
All this may seem absurd, but this is my truth. And I want a better one.
I want that friend that I’ve been trying so hard to be friends with, to try like he said he would. For so long I felt locked out of his life, in a dark room with an ember of hope that one day, he would just open the door and let me back in and really see me as me, and not the past. And for the first time, it seemed to be going that way. I felt as if I mattered to him for once, but now I just feel shut out again. I am not treated the same, and I have lost almost all hope. It’s just me and that ember again.
I want to change myself by letting go again. I have been working to change myself for the better, physically. For my health, and for my own esteem. I know everyone has an insecurity, and though I always loved myself no matter my size, I felt insecure in terms my health. At my heaviest, I got easily winded climbing a flight or two of stairs. I also want to show everyone, whether stranger or friend, that I my personality can truly radiate. I have seen it. I have let myself do it. And it makes me feel incredible. I took so much pride in being a good listener and someone others can trust. But lately in my own life, I feel that I just over-share, and I don’t make enough time for others. I need to prove that I am still me, and not a self-absorbed person.
I want to thrive. I can thrive when I create, when I think, and when I truly and deeply love. I show my love for people, places, and things in odd ways, and sometimes it may seem repetitive and other times, far-fetched but my intentions are always good. I just need a chance.
Anyway, I will be taking a long break from a lot of things, this being one of them.
I need to live my life, even if it seems daunting and lonely. Maybe I’ll find what I really need along the way.
Today, on this Fourth of July, I witnessed white people running from the cops…for setting off too many fireworks…only in Santa Clarita.
Considering it was my birthday yesterday, I may have forgotten healthy eating habits. But I tried! Breakfast was flour less banana pancakes with blueberries. Lunch was a grilled salmon salad and fresh sourdough bread slices, for a snack I had fig bars (the “natural” ones from Costco), and for dinner (oh dear) I had battered cod with hand cut fries and a mushroom/asparagus sauté. Then I had red trolley ale, a shot of Glenlivet 12, an old-fashion, and a whiskey sour. What can I say? It was my burfday.
Received a raise, got off work early, and I’m going to Solvang and Santa Barbara tomorrow. Things are looking up, I suppose.
homework site is down. I have a long day of work and school ahead of me tomorrow. and I might spend my birthday studying for my final. This week already blows…
The cellophane wrap at work hardly crumples.
So I turn to my Disney-fan of a coworker and I sing “let it go…” while opening my hand of crumpled cellophane which floats upward as it returns to its original shape.
He rolled his eyes, laughed, and said “Nice, Elsa.”