The Gardenia Carry All

I keep hoping I'll have something important to say. Important and acceptable enough to put in a blog. But I don't.

What feels like my entire life I haven't had anything to hide about myself. Maybe everything that was apart of me wasn't immediately obvious but I didn't have any deep dark secrets to be ashamed of.

I do now. And that's changed me. significantly.

I'm still the same person I was a year ago but in a sense, worse off. I'm more afraid of the things around me. I'm more indulgent to any vices I previously had and have grown new ones.

Sometimes, on days like today, it's hard to think if there's been anything positive. I'm supposed to say that i've grown and i'm a better person. But that isn't always true.

On other equally unimportant hands:

Things I've bought in the last weeks:
1. Vintage Underwood Typewriter
2. Pretty colorful sun dress
3. the most gorgeous bag in the world.

Things I've done of little significance:
1. finally cleaned my room
2. finally updated my computer, aim, and internet.
3. got accepted into only 1 school. waiting on the other
4. gone to the doctor what feels like half a million times

Things I want to do:
1. buy new furniture
2. wear more dresses
3. move out.
4. move on.
5. think of a birthday present for adam.
6. paint and decorate.
7. stop taking daytime naps
8. start doing my homework
9. buy cute shoes
10. buy my ticket to Chile.

I wish i had the artistic means and media to express the surrealistic beauty of my dreams.

Of Shadows

The only thing that brings excitement to my life are as follows:

1. Netflix Movies
2. Tsunami
3. Hearing the faux bells at school
4. TV (Grey's and The Hills)
5. Books (allende and Garcia)

Things that should excite me but have become neutral parts of the everyday:
1. Love
2. Friendships
3. A future
4. Work
5. School
6. The weather
7. Talking, Laughing, fighting.
8. Music
9. righteousness
10. loneliness


And this is what I've come to and who I've become.

The weather has been nice lately.

I'm tired. borderline exhausted.

It's so hard to balance the back and forth between the future, reality, and the side worlds in which I lose myself.

Day to day I'm reminded of where I really am. And mourn the loss of my fantasies.


I don't want to go back to LA. I don't want to see the carpet and the walls and the elevator and the hallways. I don't want to be there again.

I've said my last goodbyes and going back feels like returning forever.

There are many things a woman must go through alone. No matter how much she needs companionship. No matter how much she feels she cannot.

Sometimes I am afraid that one of them is Love.

Thinking of past relationships I've been trying to organize what's happened and accept it. I've always been the type of person to love quickly and easily. To hate easily and quickly. Only years later can I really decipher what I was truly thinking and feeling. And how contrary I was acting.

Revealed

http://itexplodes.blogspot.com/2007/01/post-my-secret.html

Have we refused Loud enough?

I'm not always sure exactly what's gone on. I don't know the difference between real reasons and personal justifications. I don't really understand the power of self denial. What do we do with the secrets we're too ashamed to admit to even our closest friends? With secrets we barely want to admit to ourselves?

And when we're forced to how do we deal with the weight of the burden hanging from our necks?

What's the difference between things that should never have happened and things we're merely ashamed of? How do we know if we allow things to happen or if they're simply our fault?

The realization and discovery of old mistakes stands much closer to our backs than we see.

Who is to be held accountable for the irreprable damages of a year ago?

Who is responsible for the shame?

Velvety Fur

Dream:

Like watching a movie I went through the pains of birth. Quick screaming montage with sweaty hair, hand squeezing, and screaming. And then I brought a life into the world.

It was nameless. Simply, My Baby. And I knew I had never loved anything more.

My baby was a bunny. a very large bunny. And I held it in my arms just as anyone would do to their baby. It was grey and white. with big ears and a cute dome shaped bunny head. And it was incredibly soft. unbelievably soft. And I love my soft-furred bunny baby. I cherished it.

And I brought it to a family party in a restaurant / dance club. And everyone wanted to hold and pet My Baby. But everyone carried it here and there. But they were getting to close to the speakers and I knew that the loud noise was hurting My Baby's ears (given that they were large bunny ears). And so I coddled and protected her like a loving mother would.

And then, even though my baby was only 2 days old as I was putting her into her carseat and holding the handle she said her first word. "Hanger" in regards to the handle of her carseat. and she was only two days old. And I was beaming with pride. My wonderful, soft, loving, sweet, bunny My Baby said her first word at only two days old. And I couldn't wait to brag.

I know I don't want any children. But I think I miss the overflowing affectionate proud love that I felt for my Bunny Baby.

My Baby was something like this but bigger and softer and grey.

Progression

Dear self,

Bah humbug to school. and to future planning. and my family's expectations. and my own dissapointments. Schools return answers for acceptance or not in a couple of months. I dread it. What will I do with myself? What will I do for the rest of my life?

My family wants me to have a dependable, responsible, respectable career. But what does that mean? What does that imply?

How does one tell the difference between something they're really interested in and something they want to do for the rest of their lives? Sometimes I think at one point in my life I had the potential to be something wonderful. And everything beat it out of me. The things I have met with have quieted me. I have never known the language in which to express myself.

Or I could be copping out. I just have no talent. and no ability. I don't know how to commit to my decisions. and I don't know how to finish the things that I start.

I am a failure. And that is the real root of my unhappiness. Even worse, I have had the ability to succeed but out of laziness I chose to fail. And now it's too late. And that is the root of my unhappiness. And that it far more contemptible than being born a failure.

I was raised in a home of oppurtunists and office workers. And I convinced myself that I had so much more to offer. Only to realize in early adulthood, in my second prolonged ugly stage that my life is so much more meaningless than I had hoped.

I have nothing to offer anyone. let alone the world. I have fallen into the masses of the mediocre.


and I have an eternity of a lifetime to contemplate my mistakes.

I feel disconnected.

don't i always?