Rated TMI
What animates human desire? Or better yet, what do we do when we can't have what we so desire, or have to wait and be patient for it? Sure, there are plenty of delightful material things out there I would love, but after not spending since July, I'm now used to it. I don't want any more clothes, nail polish colours, body jewelry, shoes, belts, toe socks, pillows, key chains, earrings, incense, sketch books, journals or any other extension of my personality. I don't need them right now, because I'm ready to grow up.
Now, I find myself wanting things that can only be considered adult. First and foremost, I want to be so busy living my life during the days that free time is a treasured rarity that I can enjoy a lot more when it actually happens. I realize that's probably not normal, and I may regret it later, but right now, I'd give anything to be back behind the Le Peep cash register during a Saturday morning rush. The saying is supposed to be "all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy", but I've found that "all play and no work makes CiCi restless and depressed". I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be jealous when your friends tell you they're doing mountains of homework.
I never hated Bemidji, and I was not unhappy at the school. What I felt, was that I couldn't grow up there any more than I already had. I guess I felt it lacked the challenge after two years. It felt like a sleep-a-way high school with bad food and noisy dorms. I want my own place outside of a boxed room. I wanted my own bathroom to clean, my own kitchen to cook in, and my own small patch of grass to read on in nice weather. I know I might have been happy living with Stephany in our own room in the Birch dorms, but even then, I would have still felt like a "kid". I don't want to be a college kid; I want to be a young adult, because I feel that I already am.
As for Bemidji itself, it was not the most inspirational corner of the globe. This is not to say the nature was beautiful; you can't beat a campus right on the lake. Winter and summer appealed to me, but materialistically-speaking, there wasn't much of interest to me there. A lot of the roads, stores, lawns, houses and buildings made it feel almost ramshackle and run-down. I hesitate to use the word "ghetto", because I realize real ghettos are horrible places very unlike Bemidji, but appearance-wise, it was not pristine. This does not include downtown, which was gorgeous in the Fall and had many awesome stores I know I'll probably reminisce about, including Log Cabin Coffee House and Chocolates Plus.
I also know that memories scar, and though it would have gotten better as time went on, Bemidji was the blistering scab of one of the hardest times of my life. I hadn't experienced a breakdown before, and though I know it wasn't caused by Bemidji necessarily, I don't think I could walk down those halls, use those showers, eat in that dining hall, or walk through those tunnels without involuntarily shuddering a little at the echoes of some pretty shitty memories. I know lots of people experience the ups and downs of growing up, but this was completely different, and no matter how I try, I know I can't convey exactly the feelings of clinical depression. I know I carry this with me, and it's something I'll have to fight against for the rest of my life, but if fresh starts help, I must make them.
Another something I'd like to find, or to have, or to share, is closeness and love. I have love now, for my parents, my relatives, my distant friends, but I miss the social life that comes with living in a college environment and having classes with similar-minded individuals. I may seem cynical, and I may enjoy my solitary time, but the truth is, I do like company, and I have love that I need to share. This includes the kind of love that leads to lasting partnerships.
In high school, I never cared about romance, relationships, affection, couples, hand-holding or mutual sharing. I think I probably scoffed at the idea, perceiving it as vastly overrated. Somewhere between senior year of high school and freshman year of college, I got tired of being "single". I knew I wanted to experience a relationship, and I have had several in the last two years. Each time, I have been let go, spent my time feeling sorry for myself, and made it back to where I was, and luckily each time a little stronger. But I'm getting tired of the dating games. I've always felt that the kind of relationship I will find will be the kind that comes unexpectedly through a good, solid friendship; maybe that never changed.
Basically, I'm doing what I feel, being who I am, but as I have noted the past two years in Minnesota, I am at a lack for options. This isn't just options for fun, intelligent and free-spirited girls to date, but fun, intelligent and free-spirited girls to even relate to. It's a strange feeling to go from knowing quite a few gay females and thinking nothing of it to a world where they're so scarce, I almost want to hug the ones I do see when I do. I think the word I'm grabbing at is isolation. I feel alone because I am (in this particular area). I don't think it's like this everywhere, and I want to be somewhere where I can have other gay friends, I can find some girls who are more like me, aren't completely fucked up by their own mental disorders, and are willing to love just as much as I am.
I hate getting mushy, but I rarely do it. Maybe if I write it in my journal--like a fifteen-year-old girl would without hesitation--it'll take some of the electricity out of my impatience. No more clothes, no more necklaces, no more worthless objects. What I want most is to fall asleep cuddling, to hear someone else's heart beating against my ear, and to feel that no matter where I go or what I do I'll be brought back to that one stationary thing in my life that makes it just a little bit brighter. I don't mean to seem like I can't do it on my own, or that my own personality depends on the connection to another person. I only want to not be alone for the adventure of life. Then again, the quest for company itself becomes an adventure, doesn't it?
It's almost like the urge to go shopping; I want something new, something exciting, and something for me... But it's different. It's unselfish in that it's a two-way "purchase", it's much harder to find, and it can hurt physically. But when comparing the levels of happy between a new pair of jeans and a life partner--I know there is no comparison. I have loved before. I have lost, but I have loved, and I know there is no greater feeling. So I'll stop lamenting, start believing, grow up a little more every day, and stop looking ahead and watch now instead.
8 October 2010
Now, I find myself wanting things that can only be considered adult. First and foremost, I want to be so busy living my life during the days that free time is a treasured rarity that I can enjoy a lot more when it actually happens. I realize that's probably not normal, and I may regret it later, but right now, I'd give anything to be back behind the Le Peep cash register during a Saturday morning rush. The saying is supposed to be "all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy", but I've found that "all play and no work makes CiCi restless and depressed". I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be jealous when your friends tell you they're doing mountains of homework.
I never hated Bemidji, and I was not unhappy at the school. What I felt, was that I couldn't grow up there any more than I already had. I guess I felt it lacked the challenge after two years. It felt like a sleep-a-way high school with bad food and noisy dorms. I want my own place outside of a boxed room. I wanted my own bathroom to clean, my own kitchen to cook in, and my own small patch of grass to read on in nice weather. I know I might have been happy living with Stephany in our own room in the Birch dorms, but even then, I would have still felt like a "kid". I don't want to be a college kid; I want to be a young adult, because I feel that I already am.
As for Bemidji itself, it was not the most inspirational corner of the globe. This is not to say the nature was beautiful; you can't beat a campus right on the lake. Winter and summer appealed to me, but materialistically-speaking, there wasn't much of interest to me there. A lot of the roads, stores, lawns, houses and buildings made it feel almost ramshackle and run-down. I hesitate to use the word "ghetto", because I realize real ghettos are horrible places very unlike Bemidji, but appearance-wise, it was not pristine. This does not include downtown, which was gorgeous in the Fall and had many awesome stores I know I'll probably reminisce about, including Log Cabin Coffee House and Chocolates Plus.
I also know that memories scar, and though it would have gotten better as time went on, Bemidji was the blistering scab of one of the hardest times of my life. I hadn't experienced a breakdown before, and though I know it wasn't caused by Bemidji necessarily, I don't think I could walk down those halls, use those showers, eat in that dining hall, or walk through those tunnels without involuntarily shuddering a little at the echoes of some pretty shitty memories. I know lots of people experience the ups and downs of growing up, but this was completely different, and no matter how I try, I know I can't convey exactly the feelings of clinical depression. I know I carry this with me, and it's something I'll have to fight against for the rest of my life, but if fresh starts help, I must make them.
Another something I'd like to find, or to have, or to share, is closeness and love. I have love now, for my parents, my relatives, my distant friends, but I miss the social life that comes with living in a college environment and having classes with similar-minded individuals. I may seem cynical, and I may enjoy my solitary time, but the truth is, I do like company, and I have love that I need to share. This includes the kind of love that leads to lasting partnerships.
In high school, I never cared about romance, relationships, affection, couples, hand-holding or mutual sharing. I think I probably scoffed at the idea, perceiving it as vastly overrated. Somewhere between senior year of high school and freshman year of college, I got tired of being "single". I knew I wanted to experience a relationship, and I have had several in the last two years. Each time, I have been let go, spent my time feeling sorry for myself, and made it back to where I was, and luckily each time a little stronger. But I'm getting tired of the dating games. I've always felt that the kind of relationship I will find will be the kind that comes unexpectedly through a good, solid friendship; maybe that never changed.
Basically, I'm doing what I feel, being who I am, but as I have noted the past two years in Minnesota, I am at a lack for options. This isn't just options for fun, intelligent and free-spirited girls to date, but fun, intelligent and free-spirited girls to even relate to. It's a strange feeling to go from knowing quite a few gay females and thinking nothing of it to a world where they're so scarce, I almost want to hug the ones I do see when I do. I think the word I'm grabbing at is isolation. I feel alone because I am (in this particular area). I don't think it's like this everywhere, and I want to be somewhere where I can have other gay friends, I can find some girls who are more like me, aren't completely fucked up by their own mental disorders, and are willing to love just as much as I am.
I hate getting mushy, but I rarely do it. Maybe if I write it in my journal--like a fifteen-year-old girl would without hesitation--it'll take some of the electricity out of my impatience. No more clothes, no more necklaces, no more worthless objects. What I want most is to fall asleep cuddling, to hear someone else's heart beating against my ear, and to feel that no matter where I go or what I do I'll be brought back to that one stationary thing in my life that makes it just a little bit brighter. I don't mean to seem like I can't do it on my own, or that my own personality depends on the connection to another person. I only want to not be alone for the adventure of life. Then again, the quest for company itself becomes an adventure, doesn't it?
It's almost like the urge to go shopping; I want something new, something exciting, and something for me... But it's different. It's unselfish in that it's a two-way "purchase", it's much harder to find, and it can hurt physically. But when comparing the levels of happy between a new pair of jeans and a life partner--I know there is no comparison. I have loved before. I have lost, but I have loved, and I know there is no greater feeling. So I'll stop lamenting, start believing, grow up a little more every day, and stop looking ahead and watch now instead.
8 October 2010