Time and Coping
I was outside of my house smoking a cigarette at four AM, staring at the stars, and thinking about the most random shit. Somewhere from the randomness appeared a thought in the form of "hm, I wonder if I still have my terrible old fics on my computer." Those fics weren't fanfiction for some fandom - I wrote some terrible original stuff that made me the love interest with fictional (better) versions of the men I found interest in. Nothing was ever finished, and I think all it ever did was make me feel worse about myself. After coming back inside (and fighting my cat, who always wants to go outside), opening up my old piece of shit Samsung laptop, and sifting through the "recovery" files Jon had managed to pull out of it, I couldn't find them. They weren't even on my external hard drive along with all my other terrible fics. Actual fanfiction, there.
I remember writing something that was Dragon Age oriented, where "I" had run away from my town and this guy, Lehar (this dude I used to like in high school who totally seemed to have a thing for me but apparently totally didn't) found "me" in the woods. There were two other ones. The first involved this total piece of shit toolbag kissing me and telling me he "preferred" me anyway. I know there was another one involving this guy I worked with really briefly at my first job. There was a date or stargazing and drunk sex involved somewhere.
I vaguely remember deleting them in an overwhelming moment of embarrassment. Maybe it was shame.
The point is, it brought me back to writing. I haven't written anything in a couple of years. The closest thing to writing that I do is maybe scribbling frustratedly in my journal. Really, livejournal? Frustratedly isn't a word? Seriously? I wouldn't say I've necessarily lost my touch, but I do feel a bit rusty.
I'd had another thought recently. I felt embarrassed regarding my writing. It's like there's this eloquence hiding somewhere inside me and when I manage to find it, it's rewarding. However, despite the mental reward, I still feel this overwhelming sense of embarrassment. Maybe it's because when it comes to normal conversation, I'm terrible at finding my words. I lose track of what I'm saying mid-sentence, and forget words for the simplest things. I'll stand there stammering for a period of time, snapping my fingers, and scrunching my eyes shut as I struggle to remember the one word I was trying to say.
Even with this secret [hidden as fuck] eloquence I sometimes encounter, I still lack creativity to pull something of my own together. I can draw from characters that have already been created and situations that have already been introduced, but when it comes to constructing a world of my own and creating fictional individuals with depth, I just can't do it. I'd love to write something original but maybe I'm fated to be a fanfiction writer forever.
In another sense, I feel as though that's a metaphor for a lot of things. I feel stuck being second best at most of the things I do. I hate my job, school is going terribly, and I feel like maybe my boyfriend is starting to tire of me. I went to kiss him today, and he kissed me back halfheartedly, then sighed and said, "I'm so tired of everything." I wouldn't say he's depressed. He's just... tired. He works his ass off, fourty or more hours a week at work and goes to school two days a week. It's stressful - no doubt. When I was working two jobs I barely had a moment to myself. I thought I was going to lose my mind. That's when my mental health sort of collapsed around me. Luckily, in the past week, I've finally been able to reel it back in. I also have an antidepressant and an anti-anxiety medication sitting on the table in our living room, waiting for me to take. I don't want the antidepressant and the anti-anxiety medication is something I'm also not sure that I want. The Buspar (anxiety med) takes a week to kick in and then I can take it "as needed". I can't stand antidepressants. I was drugged as a teenager when I was going through really high, intense emotions. Probably age 13-17. I was in some pretty deep mental shit, too. Meds made sense, but now, as an adult who controls her depression seventy five percent of the time, I don't think handing me antidepressants after I've specifically said I don't want them is a terrible idea. Disrespectful, even.
Despite the problems, I'm still looking forward to next month. Friday is Jon's birthday, and I'm praying it goes better than last year did. Last year, I made a dinner for all of our friends and we were all going to hang out and drink and eat and be merry and he showed up and just... lost it. He was crying in the bathroom and I didn't know what to do. I think he feels disappointed in himself regarding school. His work seems to be rewarding - he may travel to South Africa in the next two years or so if everything goes well. I think maybe for him birthdays are just a reminder that he's getting older. He's five years older than me. That worries me sometimes - what happens when he decides in two years he wants to start a family and I'm not ready? I can't toss my life away for him, despite how much I love him. I won't. On the bright side, he fucking despises kids right now (ha, that's another story) so everything is just dandy regarding that aspect of our relationship. Oh, and marriage. No pressure for big steps on either side. It's good. I just am looking forward to being there for him and being in his life as he continues this journey. At least until it's time to part ways... which may happen. No negativity here, just being realistic.
Back to the topic of the month of May: I have two shows I'm going to next month. That's one thing that hasn't changed since I was a teenager. Still drowning myself in my hobby of concerts. May 5th I'm going to North Carolina to see St. Lucia with Megan, who I met about a year and a half ago at an Ellie show in NYC. After that, May 30th is Wired Fest in Philly. All I really care about there is Calvin Harris. Megan's coming up and joining me for that one too. It's nice to have show friends. Good show friends. Not crazy ones. Fuck the crazy ones. I'm getting too old for that shit.
After that, June 6th is Disclosure, then the next day, Jon and I are going to Charlottesville to see my old friend from high school, Kaity. By then, I'm going to be done with work, regardless of if I've been laid off or not. I'm done by June 1st - I can't do it. I can barely deal with it for the month of May. It's not even May yet and I'm not sure if I can make it through this next month. It's stressful, I'm surrounded by kids (I fucking hate kids, full on hate) and I just overall struggle to handle it. It's very hard for me to be nice to kids. 'Cause they're fuckin' dumb. Not their fault, I understand, their brains haven't fully developed. Kids are just the spawn of Satan.
Then comes EDC. I haven't been so excited for anything in a hot minute. Me, Jon, Tawon, Amanda, and Steve are all going out to Vegas for a week. We fly out Wednesday morning, then Electric Daisy Carnival is over the weekend at the speedway. We come back Tuesday. I am very, VERY excited. This is my first big festival and there are going to be so many amazing artists there. Plus I'm twenty-one so now I can gamble and drink and shit. It's gonna be rad. I am thrilled! Been looking forward to it for about a year. After Jon came back from EDC last year, he immediately told me to save up money because he wanted me to go this year.
Honestly, everything just kind of spilled out of me. I'm a little surprised at the amount of shit that I just wrote. It's mostly just that - shit. I'm fine with that; maybe I just needed a blank space to write it all out on. Lord knows I've been typing for forty (!!!) minutes. If I didn't need it, then I would've stopped. I'm bad at closing things. I'm terrible at endings. They always feel short - like I've been jipped from something that could've been done really well. I close quickly and then end up thinking what else the ending could have looked like. My real life is like that too. I've always been terrible with endings.
I remember writing something that was Dragon Age oriented, where "I" had run away from my town and this guy, Lehar (this dude I used to like in high school who totally seemed to have a thing for me but apparently totally didn't) found "me" in the woods. There were two other ones. The first involved this total piece of shit toolbag kissing me and telling me he "preferred" me anyway. I know there was another one involving this guy I worked with really briefly at my first job. There was a date or stargazing and drunk sex involved somewhere.
I vaguely remember deleting them in an overwhelming moment of embarrassment. Maybe it was shame.
The point is, it brought me back to writing. I haven't written anything in a couple of years. The closest thing to writing that I do is maybe scribbling frustratedly in my journal. Really, livejournal? Frustratedly isn't a word? Seriously? I wouldn't say I've necessarily lost my touch, but I do feel a bit rusty.
I'd had another thought recently. I felt embarrassed regarding my writing. It's like there's this eloquence hiding somewhere inside me and when I manage to find it, it's rewarding. However, despite the mental reward, I still feel this overwhelming sense of embarrassment. Maybe it's because when it comes to normal conversation, I'm terrible at finding my words. I lose track of what I'm saying mid-sentence, and forget words for the simplest things. I'll stand there stammering for a period of time, snapping my fingers, and scrunching my eyes shut as I struggle to remember the one word I was trying to say.
Even with this secret [hidden as fuck] eloquence I sometimes encounter, I still lack creativity to pull something of my own together. I can draw from characters that have already been created and situations that have already been introduced, but when it comes to constructing a world of my own and creating fictional individuals with depth, I just can't do it. I'd love to write something original but maybe I'm fated to be a fanfiction writer forever.
In another sense, I feel as though that's a metaphor for a lot of things. I feel stuck being second best at most of the things I do. I hate my job, school is going terribly, and I feel like maybe my boyfriend is starting to tire of me. I went to kiss him today, and he kissed me back halfheartedly, then sighed and said, "I'm so tired of everything." I wouldn't say he's depressed. He's just... tired. He works his ass off, fourty or more hours a week at work and goes to school two days a week. It's stressful - no doubt. When I was working two jobs I barely had a moment to myself. I thought I was going to lose my mind. That's when my mental health sort of collapsed around me. Luckily, in the past week, I've finally been able to reel it back in. I also have an antidepressant and an anti-anxiety medication sitting on the table in our living room, waiting for me to take. I don't want the antidepressant and the anti-anxiety medication is something I'm also not sure that I want. The Buspar (anxiety med) takes a week to kick in and then I can take it "as needed". I can't stand antidepressants. I was drugged as a teenager when I was going through really high, intense emotions. Probably age 13-17. I was in some pretty deep mental shit, too. Meds made sense, but now, as an adult who controls her depression seventy five percent of the time, I don't think handing me antidepressants after I've specifically said I don't want them is a terrible idea. Disrespectful, even.
Despite the problems, I'm still looking forward to next month. Friday is Jon's birthday, and I'm praying it goes better than last year did. Last year, I made a dinner for all of our friends and we were all going to hang out and drink and eat and be merry and he showed up and just... lost it. He was crying in the bathroom and I didn't know what to do. I think he feels disappointed in himself regarding school. His work seems to be rewarding - he may travel to South Africa in the next two years or so if everything goes well. I think maybe for him birthdays are just a reminder that he's getting older. He's five years older than me. That worries me sometimes - what happens when he decides in two years he wants to start a family and I'm not ready? I can't toss my life away for him, despite how much I love him. I won't. On the bright side, he fucking despises kids right now (ha, that's another story) so everything is just dandy regarding that aspect of our relationship. Oh, and marriage. No pressure for big steps on either side. It's good. I just am looking forward to being there for him and being in his life as he continues this journey. At least until it's time to part ways... which may happen. No negativity here, just being realistic.
Back to the topic of the month of May: I have two shows I'm going to next month. That's one thing that hasn't changed since I was a teenager. Still drowning myself in my hobby of concerts. May 5th I'm going to North Carolina to see St. Lucia with Megan, who I met about a year and a half ago at an Ellie show in NYC. After that, May 30th is Wired Fest in Philly. All I really care about there is Calvin Harris. Megan's coming up and joining me for that one too. It's nice to have show friends. Good show friends. Not crazy ones. Fuck the crazy ones. I'm getting too old for that shit.
After that, June 6th is Disclosure, then the next day, Jon and I are going to Charlottesville to see my old friend from high school, Kaity. By then, I'm going to be done with work, regardless of if I've been laid off or not. I'm done by June 1st - I can't do it. I can barely deal with it for the month of May. It's not even May yet and I'm not sure if I can make it through this next month. It's stressful, I'm surrounded by kids (I fucking hate kids, full on hate) and I just overall struggle to handle it. It's very hard for me to be nice to kids. 'Cause they're fuckin' dumb. Not their fault, I understand, their brains haven't fully developed. Kids are just the spawn of Satan.
Then comes EDC. I haven't been so excited for anything in a hot minute. Me, Jon, Tawon, Amanda, and Steve are all going out to Vegas for a week. We fly out Wednesday morning, then Electric Daisy Carnival is over the weekend at the speedway. We come back Tuesday. I am very, VERY excited. This is my first big festival and there are going to be so many amazing artists there. Plus I'm twenty-one so now I can gamble and drink and shit. It's gonna be rad. I am thrilled! Been looking forward to it for about a year. After Jon came back from EDC last year, he immediately told me to save up money because he wanted me to go this year.
Honestly, everything just kind of spilled out of me. I'm a little surprised at the amount of shit that I just wrote. It's mostly just that - shit. I'm fine with that; maybe I just needed a blank space to write it all out on. Lord knows I've been typing for forty (!!!) minutes. If I didn't need it, then I would've stopped. I'm bad at closing things. I'm terrible at endings. They always feel short - like I've been jipped from something that could've been done really well. I close quickly and then end up thinking what else the ending could have looked like. My real life is like that too. I've always been terrible with endings.