Same Shit, Different Decade
There are so many thoughts and ideas that have been ricocheting through my head for a while now that I just really don't know how to sort them out. I've been trying to force myself to sit down and write and try and untangle all this for a while now but something always seems to come up, or there's always some excuse I find of something better to do. I only have like 20-30 minutes right now to sit and do this and that's not gonna be near enough, but maybe I can at least unpack some of it and possibly make some semblance of sense over the chaos that my life has become.
I did have a really awesome, revelatory morning about a week ago: so many thoughts about so many things were just flooding through my brain and I did sit down and try and write but... there was too much glare and I didn't have the patience to angle things for the next 10 minutes until I could actually get my screen where I wanted it. I stayed up super late with a friend and then after I dropped him off and started back towards home, I realized I was only 10 minutes from the beach and how rarely that is ever the case anymore.
I have no idea how to explain my relationship with the beach. There's just something about it that makes things okay... or if not okay, then at least a little better. The ocean spray crashing against my face is a cool contrast to the hot tears streaming down. The waves crashing against the shore drown out my whimpers if anyone happens to walk by. There is no sense of social awkwardness with people walking by if you ignore them and stare off into the distance instead of making eye contact. For some reason, I feel like I can just think there, entirely unencumbered. I can't explain how much I'm going to miss this when I leave FL. So much about this state is horrible, nasty and miserable but the idea of living so far from the beach is a little unnerving. I'm sure I'll get used to it. I'll just have to find some 24 hour coffee nook in hipster Detroit or an isolated, creepy, stalker cabin in Canada.
I'm also scared to be actually living on my own for once. I mean, I won't be entirely alone; the furballs will come with me and I'm sure be supplemented by more furballs within a few months, but still. I think my descent into crazy pet lady is fast approaching. If I teach them to talk back, then I'm not hallucinating and it counts as a conversation.... right? But while I'm scared of moving on to all these things, I'm also sooo ready for it. It's gonna be scary whether I leave tomorrow or 10 years from now, but it needs to happen. I cannot get stuck into the rut that is Florida and spend my life here. If I can make it a few years in Detroit, I can make it a few years in Russia. This is the theory.
But I think the idea of moving isn't so scary in and of itself; it's the idea of moving and knowing absolutely no one. I felt like I had someone who was going to be with me no matter where I went and now that's not the case. I'm not gonna fucking back out of things because I'm scared. There is no way I'm gonna stay in FL because I don't have the guts to nut up and move on. But I'm still nervous about it.
I dunno; I guess I just keep going. I keep forcing myself to wake up and roll out of bed and keep moving until I can't anymore. Ironically, that's the part I'm not scared of. I'm gonna keep trying but I know that I will eventually reach the day when I can't even do that anymore. There's actually a great deal of comfort in that. Things are arranged or at least in progress and I look forward to the day when I can actually rest. One day, I will be able to close my eyes in the knowledge that they will not open again. I can't wait for that, to breathe my last sigh and know that the problems I face from that day on will at least be new and different.
To sleep, perchance to Dream;
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come...
I guess I'm just frustrated that this damn disease is back. Things were better for a while and now I'm back where I was several years ago. I don't know how the fuck to function when it gets like this. It's like my dreams are just a fucking joke. I don't think my goals are all that extravagant. I don't want to win an Olympic gold medal or be a rock star or an actress. I don't want to be President or write a best-selling novel. My dream isn't anything you're gonna find on one of the LIFE tiles. I just want to be a teacher. A good teacher. I want my life to mean something because it makes the lives of my students just a little bit better. And this is a joke.
The educational institution that teaches its students to be accepting and treat their students like individuals and be responsive towards their differences and disabilities... this hypocritical institution strives to instill these values in their teachers so that they can be effective quality educators and forces of change.... and then when they are called to do it, it's nothing but a multitude of excuses and technicalities. Reasons why their students should do as I say and not as I do. On the one hand, I don't want to be affiliated with such a deceitful organization. But on the other, I don't really know what other options are out there. Its just so damn frustrating to want something so badly and to work so hard for it and then to have the people in charge of you and your dream laugh in your face and be all like, 'No, just kidding. You were never gonna make it. We were just fucking with you.'
I don't know what to do. I barely even know how to exist anymore. I feel like an idiot busting my ass at bullshit jobs so I can barely subsist and kinda sorta make ends meet when (intellectually at least) I am capable of so much more. But I'm not giving up yet. At the very least, I will find a way to not be a burden upon those who would be responsible for taking care of me if I didn't find a way to make it. I. DONT. FUCKING. KNOW. WHAT. TO. DO. ANYMORE.
I guess I'll go back to drinking and hoping for some kind of epiphany. Booze = good.
I did have a really awesome, revelatory morning about a week ago: so many thoughts about so many things were just flooding through my brain and I did sit down and try and write but... there was too much glare and I didn't have the patience to angle things for the next 10 minutes until I could actually get my screen where I wanted it. I stayed up super late with a friend and then after I dropped him off and started back towards home, I realized I was only 10 minutes from the beach and how rarely that is ever the case anymore.
I have no idea how to explain my relationship with the beach. There's just something about it that makes things okay... or if not okay, then at least a little better. The ocean spray crashing against my face is a cool contrast to the hot tears streaming down. The waves crashing against the shore drown out my whimpers if anyone happens to walk by. There is no sense of social awkwardness with people walking by if you ignore them and stare off into the distance instead of making eye contact. For some reason, I feel like I can just think there, entirely unencumbered. I can't explain how much I'm going to miss this when I leave FL. So much about this state is horrible, nasty and miserable but the idea of living so far from the beach is a little unnerving. I'm sure I'll get used to it. I'll just have to find some 24 hour coffee nook in hipster Detroit or an isolated, creepy, stalker cabin in Canada.
I'm also scared to be actually living on my own for once. I mean, I won't be entirely alone; the furballs will come with me and I'm sure be supplemented by more furballs within a few months, but still. I think my descent into crazy pet lady is fast approaching. If I teach them to talk back, then I'm not hallucinating and it counts as a conversation.... right? But while I'm scared of moving on to all these things, I'm also sooo ready for it. It's gonna be scary whether I leave tomorrow or 10 years from now, but it needs to happen. I cannot get stuck into the rut that is Florida and spend my life here. If I can make it a few years in Detroit, I can make it a few years in Russia. This is the theory.
But I think the idea of moving isn't so scary in and of itself; it's the idea of moving and knowing absolutely no one. I felt like I had someone who was going to be with me no matter where I went and now that's not the case. I'm not gonna fucking back out of things because I'm scared. There is no way I'm gonna stay in FL because I don't have the guts to nut up and move on. But I'm still nervous about it.
I dunno; I guess I just keep going. I keep forcing myself to wake up and roll out of bed and keep moving until I can't anymore. Ironically, that's the part I'm not scared of. I'm gonna keep trying but I know that I will eventually reach the day when I can't even do that anymore. There's actually a great deal of comfort in that. Things are arranged or at least in progress and I look forward to the day when I can actually rest. One day, I will be able to close my eyes in the knowledge that they will not open again. I can't wait for that, to breathe my last sigh and know that the problems I face from that day on will at least be new and different.
To sleep, perchance to Dream;
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come...
I guess I'm just frustrated that this damn disease is back. Things were better for a while and now I'm back where I was several years ago. I don't know how the fuck to function when it gets like this. It's like my dreams are just a fucking joke. I don't think my goals are all that extravagant. I don't want to win an Olympic gold medal or be a rock star or an actress. I don't want to be President or write a best-selling novel. My dream isn't anything you're gonna find on one of the LIFE tiles. I just want to be a teacher. A good teacher. I want my life to mean something because it makes the lives of my students just a little bit better. And this is a joke.
The educational institution that teaches its students to be accepting and treat their students like individuals and be responsive towards their differences and disabilities... this hypocritical institution strives to instill these values in their teachers so that they can be effective quality educators and forces of change.... and then when they are called to do it, it's nothing but a multitude of excuses and technicalities. Reasons why their students should do as I say and not as I do. On the one hand, I don't want to be affiliated with such a deceitful organization. But on the other, I don't really know what other options are out there. Its just so damn frustrating to want something so badly and to work so hard for it and then to have the people in charge of you and your dream laugh in your face and be all like, 'No, just kidding. You were never gonna make it. We were just fucking with you.'
I don't know what to do. I barely even know how to exist anymore. I feel like an idiot busting my ass at bullshit jobs so I can barely subsist and kinda sorta make ends meet when (intellectually at least) I am capable of so much more. But I'm not giving up yet. At the very least, I will find a way to not be a burden upon those who would be responsible for taking care of me if I didn't find a way to make it. I. DONT. FUCKING. KNOW. WHAT. TO. DO. ANYMORE.
I guess I'll go back to drinking and hoping for some kind of epiphany. Booze = good.