Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Keep on Truckin'

Perspective is important.
Take a deep breath.

I get tired of being patient, and wondering what's going to happen.
But I still do it.

I am not a fighter. I'm a... uh... I guess?

Am I afraid? Oh yes, of a few things. Fear comes and goes in my life, and about a year ago I wasn't afraid of anything. Nothing, literally- not even the death of those near and dear to my heart. I could ride in an elevator crowded with strangers and not have anxiety (let me tell you that is HUGE).

I had accepted that everything happens. I have control over my life, but not others. If I didn't like something I moved on to something different, or just changed the way I thought about it ("it's not all bad, there is that one good thing....").

Alas, broken down and heart broken, I cried my soul out last night. Some say it's healthy to cry every once in a while. If it's so healthy, why does it give you such a bad freaking headache and make you lose your breath? Huh? OK, I get it- emotionally healthy. Yadda yadda yadda.

I am not trying to be positive or negative in this post, mostly just ranting like I usually do. No point, of course. If there was a point that means I carefully thought out what I was going to say then went back and edited what I didn't want in here.

Not gonna happen this mornin' friends.

Oh, I am going horseback riding tomorrow!! Not trail riding-nose-to-butt stuff, but REAL riding! I can't believe how perfect the timing is. I haven't ridden a real horse (I know trail horses are "real" but honestly, they barely have brains... it's sad) since I was about twelve, and those horses didn't have proper training or anything. The jist is that my friend and I would hop a fence and go up in the hills behind our houses and use homemade rope halters as reins. No saddle or anything- just one little rope. Ha. Good times.

Can you tell I am excited? Horses are fantastic. I have always had a little dream to ride everyday.

I have been thinking about writing everyday. Not on this blog, but real writing. The kind that you secretly (or openly) want to share with the world, preferably published.

What is my story? Gosh, I can't decide. Fiction? Memoir? Manual?

Ha, manual. I could write one heck of a how-to on some things. Maybe I could write a fictional manual for something hilarious. Ah, I am not so good with the constant humor. Every once in a while sure. I nail it. But writing a satire would be incredibly hard for me.

Maybe that means I should write a satire? Why not make it challenging? Oh I know why- it won't be fun. It would be too hard. For my *ahem* first big story I think it should be really fun. Something I feel passionately about.

Or know really well.

::shrug:: I guess for now I should get to work. I am, indeed, sitting at my desk at work. So I should work.

Ta Ta for now. Thanks for tuning in. Really, who ever reads this thing may also be my first readers of a book I someday write. How does that sound?

Monday, January 17, 2011


This weekend was terribly boring. I had absolutely no motivation to do anything.

I also had no where I had to be... nothing I really had to do.

So, I did nothing.

OK, so I watched movies and TV all day, but seriously? I didn't really even eat.
Why didn't I write?
Why didn't I draw?
Why didn't I clean?
Why didn't I organize something?

Why didn't I go for a walk?
Why didn't I MAKE something for me to do?

I just sat, or laid, around feeling bored and lazy.
Let's just say today, Monday, I am feeling the same way- only I am obligated to be at work. I am obligated to work... yet here I am blogging.

What's going on? I see these things in front of me... I think they are called options... but I ignore them, and take literally the easiest way. Just the last few days mind you. But still.

Uh... why? I can't even really say why. I am feeling excessively lazy and like the world owes me something- even though that's not right. I know that's not right, I shouldn't feel like anyone owes me anything, because they don't. But here I am- complaining at work, complaining at home, complaining to myself because no one wants to hear my pity party invitations read out loud.

I am not having a pity party... I just... well, I guess I'm just not in a very good mood. Hopefully something will change soon or I might start to worry. This sucks. In my head I can think all sorts of things... you know, like: "It would feel great to take Vince on a long walk and let him sniff everything he wants" but out loud I'll say (to myself): "But Jubs HATES the cold and I have to DRAG him to get him to walk with me and if I leave him home alone he'll just BARK and WHINE the whole time".

Excuses are fun aren't they? No, you're right- they're not. They're not even good.

Oh well. Turn around mood! Turn around! Grr!