Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Stormy Weather

Everything between Mike and myself has been going well lately.  We are getting along as roommates and hanging out some and it's been good.  But not today.  We got into a silly argument over cat hair.  It's such bullshit.  I have been compromising everything to be here, and he seems to think the opposite, and that I give up nothing and still somehow am demanding everything.  I have stopped doing the nice things I had been doing for him, because I feel like he didn't care. 

Yes it's fun to be here, but I'm also getting kind of tired of being here and I miss my stuff.  I told him that yesterday, and as usual, instead of understanding me or attempting to listen to me, he told me, "It's just stuff."  Of course I know it's just stuff, but I'm surrounded by your crap in your tiny apartment that you don't do anything to take care of, and I have a suitcase of belongings, stationery, and the cats.  I miss my stuff and my life and my belongings.  I don't know how to make you understand that.  Is there something about that idea that is difficult or that you seem to misinterpret?  I feel like I am being pretty clear.

Honestly, I don't know why I blog anymore.  It's really stupid.  I would probably get more out of writing in a journal. 

I'm trying to take control and it's time to move along.  And go get some dinner.

Saturday, June 8, 2013

Reading/Admissions

Lately, I feel like:
  • I can't get enough of realness and literary readings and mail. 
  • I'm sending as much mail as possible and trying to write as much mail as possible. 
  • I'm spending a lot of time alone.
  • I'm thinking about what I need to do keep moving forward.
  • I talk to the kitties and have them cuddle with me.
  • I could be losing my mind, but if I was, wouldn't I not know it?
  • I'm looking for jobs and dealing with unemployment.
  • I'm walking dogs almost every day.
  • I have puppy fever. 
Some of these things are new, and some of them are old.  Some of them are recurring and ongoing.  But it sort of all feels new nonetheless. 

I read that a good writer should spend time writing every day.  I want to write every day but without any inciting incidents in my life, it is hard to come up with stories.  Stories that aren't about my cats.  The more alone time I spend, the deeper I delve into crazy-cat-lady-ness.  Don't get me wrong, part of me really loves it, but there is a part of me that knows it is a little sad as well. 

In regards to writing every day though, I had this thought, maybe perhaps more accurately described as a dream, about writing movies, which is silly.  I have no stories.  But if I did, the process that it takes to actually be the writer, I think I would be good at that.  I guess now I just need a story.  Thankfully I am not pretentious enough to take my large laptop to coffee shops and sit and work on a word document like I am important.  Thankfully I don't need $5 coffees to inspire my thought process.  Actually a place like that would really annoy me.  Just driving today was annoying.  However, I partially blame that on being hungry at the time. 

Is it more important to remember just the memory or the time of the memory?  Something I've been thinking about.

Is it a worthy venture to record all memories just for the sake of having them as opposed to letting them go?

Monday, June 3, 2013

Story

I have been avoiding writing in my blog because someone said something that I had deemed inappropriate to say about it regarding my own thoughts and ideas.  Regardless of what you think, this is my blog and I  am allowed to write what I want in it.  So I ended up punishing myself and not doing something that I like specifically because of someone else's opinion. 

But I've been thinking a lot about story.  It's inspired by an audio book I have been "reading" by Donald Miller.  I am a terrible character in my own story.  I am the antagonist in my own story.  How awful.  More on story later....  More pressing thoughts are weighing me down right now.


Dear Blank,

I think about you every day.  I even miss you every day.  I wonder what you are doing and how you are doing in a new place that almost doesn't even exist to me because I've never been there or heard of it.  Is that even possible?  It's like the flatness of the land beyond what I can see, so it must just stop existing. 

I haven't seen you in...jeez 2 years next month, which is crazy to think about.  I haven't talked to you in maybe a year and a half, but it feels more like a lifetime.  I had to stop talking to you because I felt so hurt by you, but I still hurt without talking to you.  I don't know what telling you these thoughts would mean.  I don't know what you think about me anymore.  I've heard what you thought about me in the past.  That hurt too.  Of course I'm much too sensitive and much too weird for most people now.  That probably includes you too.

When time passes, we are supposed to heal, but you are like this wound that never heals.  Actually I think I may miss you more now than I did when you left.  But I still felt like you were my friend then.  You miss your distant friends differently than you miss your friends that you have lost.  You have turned into a friend lost.  It does still make me cry.  It does still make me hurt.

All I remember are the good things about you.  That's all we really want to remember about people anyways.  Part of me feels like you are the only good thing that ever happened to me.  Part of me believes that I should be with you because my parents liked you and approved of you, and I don't have my dad here to approve anyone anymore.  So why should I keep looking?  Sometimes I feel as if I am more broken from losing you than I am from losing my dad, and that was very very hard on me.  Right next to impossible to do. 

It is strange that I don't feel like I am getting any better as time goes on.  I've only ever felt like the best version of me when I was with you.  Now I feel lost, and I just keep wandering aimlessly.  It's miserable.  I just want to be near you again. 

I'm so sorry.