21 and Irish on St. Paddy's day . . . and home.
Rant:
I've thought of this rant many, many times (more than I can count). I again thought of it today and figured I should write it down, for future reference.
Content. I really dislike the idea of contentment. Hsppiness is one thing, but contentment has a connotation of stagnancy. Things gone stale. I dislike the idea of things being predicatable and foreseeable. I need to always be going somewhere, doing something. Living. Whether it's like like today - driving 60mph in the sun with the windows down to Bitterweet Symphony, or the way you touch me or say my name. Or the feeling of laughing so hard it hurts, when you can't even remember the joke. Or a sadness so immense it fills you up and consumes your mind. I wonder how people survive for weeks on end without that feeling. I need it so often, it's my fuel. Life. Why else would I wake up each morning? If I'm not living, why am I here? Somedays, I drive around with this nagging feeling that I should be doing something, making something of myself. Making a difference. But I'm not. Maybe someday the idea of contentment will make sense. I want the white picket fence with three kids . . . but what after that? I need something to look forwards to, always. I hope that doesn't make me high-maintenance. I never want to be that kind of girl. I just always need something in the future that makes the now woorthwhile. I have so much more to say, but not now. Ask me , oksy? I want you to ask me questions. Anything. I want to be an open book, so shoot. No matter how personal . . . please?
Sidenote: If I were in Oz, I'd wish for confidence.
Confidence fuels success . . . or so I've been led to believe.
I've thought of this rant many, many times (more than I can count). I again thought of it today and figured I should write it down, for future reference.
Content. I really dislike the idea of contentment. Hsppiness is one thing, but contentment has a connotation of stagnancy. Things gone stale. I dislike the idea of things being predicatable and foreseeable. I need to always be going somewhere, doing something. Living. Whether it's like like today - driving 60mph in the sun with the windows down to Bitterweet Symphony, or the way you touch me or say my name. Or the feeling of laughing so hard it hurts, when you can't even remember the joke. Or a sadness so immense it fills you up and consumes your mind. I wonder how people survive for weeks on end without that feeling. I need it so often, it's my fuel. Life. Why else would I wake up each morning? If I'm not living, why am I here? Somedays, I drive around with this nagging feeling that I should be doing something, making something of myself. Making a difference. But I'm not. Maybe someday the idea of contentment will make sense. I want the white picket fence with three kids . . . but what after that? I need something to look forwards to, always. I hope that doesn't make me high-maintenance. I never want to be that kind of girl. I just always need something in the future that makes the now woorthwhile. I have so much more to say, but not now. Ask me , oksy? I want you to ask me questions. Anything. I want to be an open book, so shoot. No matter how personal . . . please?
Sidenote: If I were in Oz, I'd wish for confidence.
Confidence fuels success . . . or so I've been led to believe.