Putting the "happy" in birthday.
From last year...
I'm far too melancholy right now. It's actually been quite a year. I've gone places and had experiences that I couldn't quite fathom a year ago tonight. I really should... you know... be happy about that.
I'm not. I'm frustrated. I refuse to sit back and relish in much of anything until I get through a few more things done that just eat at me every day: get my job situation solidified somehow and move out of this house. In that order. I'm determined to accomplish both of these things in the next year. The huge, gigantic question that continues to loom over my head is how. I don't know where I'll be living or what I'll be doing in 6 months or a year's time. This is about the fifth month in a row where that is an honest assessment. The first few months, that feeling felt full of wonder and excitement of what's to come. Now? Now all that is still here except... it's also draining me, a lot. I want to get to that next step and just take it already. I don't want to wait. I'm not actively waiting, as far as I am concerned. I'm actively trying. That's the most I can ask of myself, really, but... well...
For some reason I keep using my birthday as a time of the year to evaluate what I've done wrong over the last year, what I could do right instead, and come up with far too long a list of personal mistakes. This year is no different.
One of these days I'll get it right.
The above mentality seems as foreign to me now as another language. Looks like everything went better than expected.
The longer time goes on, the more I think... god, I could have made this life so much better for myself. I realize things far too late for my own good. The lesson here? Every now and again, living in the moment ain't such a bad idea.
A-fucking-men. Pressing on with that goal.
I'm 28, and I finally feel alive... and I want to keep living. God... turnarounds, I tell you.
Love you all, friends.
I'm far too melancholy right now. It's actually been quite a year. I've gone places and had experiences that I couldn't quite fathom a year ago tonight. I really should... you know... be happy about that.
I'm not. I'm frustrated. I refuse to sit back and relish in much of anything until I get through a few more things done that just eat at me every day: get my job situation solidified somehow and move out of this house. In that order. I'm determined to accomplish both of these things in the next year. The huge, gigantic question that continues to loom over my head is how. I don't know where I'll be living or what I'll be doing in 6 months or a year's time. This is about the fifth month in a row where that is an honest assessment. The first few months, that feeling felt full of wonder and excitement of what's to come. Now? Now all that is still here except... it's also draining me, a lot. I want to get to that next step and just take it already. I don't want to wait. I'm not actively waiting, as far as I am concerned. I'm actively trying. That's the most I can ask of myself, really, but... well...
For some reason I keep using my birthday as a time of the year to evaluate what I've done wrong over the last year, what I could do right instead, and come up with far too long a list of personal mistakes. This year is no different.
One of these days I'll get it right.
The above mentality seems as foreign to me now as another language. Looks like everything went better than expected.
The longer time goes on, the more I think... god, I could have made this life so much better for myself. I realize things far too late for my own good. The lesson here? Every now and again, living in the moment ain't such a bad idea.
A-fucking-men. Pressing on with that goal.
I'm 28, and I finally feel alive... and I want to keep living. God... turnarounds, I tell you.
Love you all, friends.