Time passes by
I haven't done this in a long time. I'm just writing from my mind as I think it, and type it onto the screen. Random thoughts, but I have already used that for my subject line before.
It's crazy how life goes in waves. One minute you're feeling the highest of highs and like the tide bringing you back out to sea to drown you in it's embrace, you're back at your low... washed up onto the shore like a beached whale for everyone to see you in your helpless state.
This weekend was the worst of 2005. As I suspected I would not skate by this year without any 'issues'. We all have our issues don't we? Like those steamed vegetables on your plate that you don't really want but they make you a better person in the end. And if not better, stronger.
For those who read, and know that my mother is in the hospital and her treatments aren't helping her condition. Thank you to those who have dropped a line to ask me how she's doing, even if we are just nicknames on a screen to each other, the thought still remains sincere.
And with the family from hell, I can't really gripe too much about them. We all have families from hell in our own special way. It's the 'normal' family, because no one has a normal family anymore. So where mine lacks others are stronger and vice versa.
Today was an interesting day to say the least. Though I should mention, I don't need pity. Today is just another reminder of my condition. Those wonderful things you hear more and more people having called 'anxiety attacks'. At least I broke a record with mine today. It started at 2am, I fell asleep having it and woke up having it again till about 5pm this evening. The longest yet.
I'm not an emotional cripple. Even if I feel like one, like you think it's all in my head or that I'm making it up. Or the ever famous "you think about things too much", ah yes... I hadn't thought of that before apparently, let me fix that. It's hard to explain the state of anxiety to someone who doesn't have it in extremes where it shuts any functioning down.
People say "just relax", if those words really worked, we really wouldn't have all these drugs out there that 'treat' them, now would we? Not that I believe in them anyway. But that's a whole other topic that I'm not delving into tonight.
Back on track with my line of thought that jumps to and fro like a girl playing double dutch on the sidewalk. Highs and lows. I honestly didn't realize my high until it started to crumble beneath me. And maybe it's my fault for relying on such a flimsy surface. Kind of reminds me of when I went to go buy some concert tickets and the girl at the desk said their 'ticketmaster' was down. I asked when it would be back up and she proceeded to explain to me that the actual machine fell down because they put it on an unstable table.
I guess if I want to be creative here, I could say that I'm the machine, and assuming that I would be supported by such a weak and brittle table... that would mean that I need to watch just how far I let myself get caught up in things without paying a closer eye to it. As if to catch myself at the last minute by sticking my foot out for better grounding.
I want to get back into my writing, but I set such high standards for myself that I dissapoint myself more often then not. And as I've heard from other people who have online blogs/journals, I feel they're right, sometimes this thing sucks my creativeness from me. So it's a juggle of proportions to figure out where I want to apply my creativity... do I want to release it in a journal to get my thoughts and emotions out? Or do I want to push it into other creativity driven things like my book?
Both have their benefits, which outweighs the other? What kind of scale do I use to measure that? I guess I really am that indecisive.
All I do know is that something has to change or I will end up on the front page news for kicking canes out from old ladies who cut in front of me in line.
"I'd say all the words that I know... just to see if it would show. That I'm trying to let you know, that I'm better off on my own."
My last attempt at writing a short story
Days always seem to run into each other when you've a built schedule. Not particularly one you want to adhere to, but one you need to unless you want to be unemployed, broke, and homeless. So each day for me, was the same as the last.
I would wake up when I heard the nagging alarm clock demanding me to push at least one of its buttons. My favorite was snooze, but that button makes promises it can't keep. So after the fifth or so time of reaching for it's mercy I rolled myself out of bed and began my day. Never was one to be socially trendy in fashion. The night before I'd lay out my work clothes, it would let me have an extra ten minutes of sleep instead of rushing around tossing clothes around as if it was a new sport I was training to go to the Olympics for.
Whoever invented coffee should win a nobel prize. Because if you think about all the people in the world who drink it to start their day or end their day, if you think about what these people are really like without that first cup of joe in the morning... the world would be in a worse place than it already is now. I'm getting off track.
After my first cup of coffee, after getting dressed, I would stumble out the front door still cursing the morning gods for making me be awake at such an unfair hour. I always thought when people say "listen to your body" that it shouldn't be a specialized statement. If my body wants to sleep in, I should be able to. Unfortunately the world doesn't work that way and I would manage to load myself and belongings into my car to start my day.
And if I managed not to spill my coffee before getting it in the lil round slot that never fits the size of your coffee mug, my day hadn't gone to shit just yet. Though there's plenty of time for that, as ritual I would turn on the radio. My favorite morning radio show would already be under way.
Now, I've never been a fan of five people going to school to push buttons so they can sit around and talk for four hours in the morning and call that a job, but... they managed to keep my attention span on them long enough before I pulled into the parking lot at my work. Particularly for one of the voices I always hear on it.
- End of Snippet.
- End of Random Thoughts
It's crazy how life goes in waves. One minute you're feeling the highest of highs and like the tide bringing you back out to sea to drown you in it's embrace, you're back at your low... washed up onto the shore like a beached whale for everyone to see you in your helpless state.
This weekend was the worst of 2005. As I suspected I would not skate by this year without any 'issues'. We all have our issues don't we? Like those steamed vegetables on your plate that you don't really want but they make you a better person in the end. And if not better, stronger.
For those who read, and know that my mother is in the hospital and her treatments aren't helping her condition. Thank you to those who have dropped a line to ask me how she's doing, even if we are just nicknames on a screen to each other, the thought still remains sincere.
And with the family from hell, I can't really gripe too much about them. We all have families from hell in our own special way. It's the 'normal' family, because no one has a normal family anymore. So where mine lacks others are stronger and vice versa.
Today was an interesting day to say the least. Though I should mention, I don't need pity. Today is just another reminder of my condition. Those wonderful things you hear more and more people having called 'anxiety attacks'. At least I broke a record with mine today. It started at 2am, I fell asleep having it and woke up having it again till about 5pm this evening. The longest yet.
I'm not an emotional cripple. Even if I feel like one, like you think it's all in my head or that I'm making it up. Or the ever famous "you think about things too much", ah yes... I hadn't thought of that before apparently, let me fix that. It's hard to explain the state of anxiety to someone who doesn't have it in extremes where it shuts any functioning down.
People say "just relax", if those words really worked, we really wouldn't have all these drugs out there that 'treat' them, now would we? Not that I believe in them anyway. But that's a whole other topic that I'm not delving into tonight.
Back on track with my line of thought that jumps to and fro like a girl playing double dutch on the sidewalk. Highs and lows. I honestly didn't realize my high until it started to crumble beneath me. And maybe it's my fault for relying on such a flimsy surface. Kind of reminds me of when I went to go buy some concert tickets and the girl at the desk said their 'ticketmaster' was down. I asked when it would be back up and she proceeded to explain to me that the actual machine fell down because they put it on an unstable table.
I guess if I want to be creative here, I could say that I'm the machine, and assuming that I would be supported by such a weak and brittle table... that would mean that I need to watch just how far I let myself get caught up in things without paying a closer eye to it. As if to catch myself at the last minute by sticking my foot out for better grounding.
I want to get back into my writing, but I set such high standards for myself that I dissapoint myself more often then not. And as I've heard from other people who have online blogs/journals, I feel they're right, sometimes this thing sucks my creativeness from me. So it's a juggle of proportions to figure out where I want to apply my creativity... do I want to release it in a journal to get my thoughts and emotions out? Or do I want to push it into other creativity driven things like my book?
Both have their benefits, which outweighs the other? What kind of scale do I use to measure that? I guess I really am that indecisive.
All I do know is that something has to change or I will end up on the front page news for kicking canes out from old ladies who cut in front of me in line.
"I'd say all the words that I know... just to see if it would show. That I'm trying to let you know, that I'm better off on my own."
My last attempt at writing a short story
Days always seem to run into each other when you've a built schedule. Not particularly one you want to adhere to, but one you need to unless you want to be unemployed, broke, and homeless. So each day for me, was the same as the last.
I would wake up when I heard the nagging alarm clock demanding me to push at least one of its buttons. My favorite was snooze, but that button makes promises it can't keep. So after the fifth or so time of reaching for it's mercy I rolled myself out of bed and began my day. Never was one to be socially trendy in fashion. The night before I'd lay out my work clothes, it would let me have an extra ten minutes of sleep instead of rushing around tossing clothes around as if it was a new sport I was training to go to the Olympics for.
Whoever invented coffee should win a nobel prize. Because if you think about all the people in the world who drink it to start their day or end their day, if you think about what these people are really like without that first cup of joe in the morning... the world would be in a worse place than it already is now. I'm getting off track.
After my first cup of coffee, after getting dressed, I would stumble out the front door still cursing the morning gods for making me be awake at such an unfair hour. I always thought when people say "listen to your body" that it shouldn't be a specialized statement. If my body wants to sleep in, I should be able to. Unfortunately the world doesn't work that way and I would manage to load myself and belongings into my car to start my day.
And if I managed not to spill my coffee before getting it in the lil round slot that never fits the size of your coffee mug, my day hadn't gone to shit just yet. Though there's plenty of time for that, as ritual I would turn on the radio. My favorite morning radio show would already be under way.
Now, I've never been a fan of five people going to school to push buttons so they can sit around and talk for four hours in the morning and call that a job, but... they managed to keep my attention span on them long enough before I pulled into the parking lot at my work. Particularly for one of the voices I always hear on it.
- End of Snippet.
- End of Random Thoughts