being in my head
What the fuck with the posting once a month? Is it really that I have nothing to say, or just that I'm too lazy to come here and say it?
I'd like to think I have things to say. For one, it amazes me that although my free time has exploded with the onset of summer, I seem to be here less. Then again, one might reason that less is happening now that I'm not making daily visits to Montréal. This journal has become too much about what I do and not enough about what I think and feel. A report of events is hardly stimulating reading material, and I don't want to write something that bores even me.
At the moment, I feel frustrated. I have this tendency to let my emotions explode at inappropriate occasions, and this leaves me feeling like a six-year-old who has a tantrum over the smallest thing. I feel that as an adult, I should be able to rein in my emotions instead of spewing them all over the place. For the most part, I can. It's only when I'm at home that I feel safe enough to let myself be completely free. Yet this type of "freedom" often leads to my (and frequently Mathieu's) frustration.
I want to be inside my head more. I want to preempt myself when I feel like letting myself rage out of control. I want the voice of reason to be the voice of dominance as well.
That said, I want to move on to writing. I am also frustrated because narrative is not happening right now. I have all these ideas in my head, I have worlds that feel real and complete, and yet when it comes down to putting it into words and making a story happen, I feel blank. It's not that I don't have some general idea of what I want to happen. I just often don't know how to write out the next step. Anything I think seems wrong or inadequate.
I joined a writing community (writing_addicts) that jordinothepizza created with a friend. I haven't written anything for any of the prompts that have been posted. I've wanted to, but then I always tell myself, "Yes, that sounds like fun. I'll do it later." Then I forget and get sucked into my workweek and the deadline appears. Here is a perfectly good excuse to get some random writing done, to let things just flow out of me in a way I enjoy, and I'm not even putting forth an effort.
Apart from these frustrations, I generally feel happy in my day-to-day life. I have complaints about my job, but then who doesn't? My home life is good, I recently rearranged everything in the living room into a configuration that makes more sense and looks better. However, I still need to put forth more of an effort with cleaning up and chores. Mat feels unappreciated sometimes and I don't blame him in the least. Also he doesn't like coming home from work feeling like he has to clean up before he can relax. It's just that I often waste too much time before I have to go to work (or before he comes home, on my days off) and things don't get done.
I need to be more mindful of things. My reactions, my feelings, deadlines, chores to be done. The feelings of others. The things I really want to do.
I'd like to think I have things to say. For one, it amazes me that although my free time has exploded with the onset of summer, I seem to be here less. Then again, one might reason that less is happening now that I'm not making daily visits to Montréal. This journal has become too much about what I do and not enough about what I think and feel. A report of events is hardly stimulating reading material, and I don't want to write something that bores even me.
At the moment, I feel frustrated. I have this tendency to let my emotions explode at inappropriate occasions, and this leaves me feeling like a six-year-old who has a tantrum over the smallest thing. I feel that as an adult, I should be able to rein in my emotions instead of spewing them all over the place. For the most part, I can. It's only when I'm at home that I feel safe enough to let myself be completely free. Yet this type of "freedom" often leads to my (and frequently Mathieu's) frustration.
I want to be inside my head more. I want to preempt myself when I feel like letting myself rage out of control. I want the voice of reason to be the voice of dominance as well.
That said, I want to move on to writing. I am also frustrated because narrative is not happening right now. I have all these ideas in my head, I have worlds that feel real and complete, and yet when it comes down to putting it into words and making a story happen, I feel blank. It's not that I don't have some general idea of what I want to happen. I just often don't know how to write out the next step. Anything I think seems wrong or inadequate.
I joined a writing community (writing_addicts) that jordinothepizza created with a friend. I haven't written anything for any of the prompts that have been posted. I've wanted to, but then I always tell myself, "Yes, that sounds like fun. I'll do it later." Then I forget and get sucked into my workweek and the deadline appears. Here is a perfectly good excuse to get some random writing done, to let things just flow out of me in a way I enjoy, and I'm not even putting forth an effort.
Apart from these frustrations, I generally feel happy in my day-to-day life. I have complaints about my job, but then who doesn't? My home life is good, I recently rearranged everything in the living room into a configuration that makes more sense and looks better. However, I still need to put forth more of an effort with cleaning up and chores. Mat feels unappreciated sometimes and I don't blame him in the least. Also he doesn't like coming home from work feeling like he has to clean up before he can relax. It's just that I often waste too much time before I have to go to work (or before he comes home, on my days off) and things don't get done.
I need to be more mindful of things. My reactions, my feelings, deadlines, chores to be done. The feelings of others. The things I really want to do.