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One thing I have learned from the Internet is that I am never alone in whatever struggle I have. There is always someone out there who is facing the same thing or who has the same self-esteem issues. Always. But on the other hand, the Internet is dangerous because for every person you have validating your viewpoint, there are 10 more willing to put you down and make you feel alien and alone. I feel as if I should not have these thoughts anymore. I should have shed them when I was a teenager, but they recur all the time.
Remember that song that goes "I don't like Mondays, I wanna burn the whole day down?" Yeah, that's how I feel today. I don't hate my job or even dislike it. It's the transition from the weekend to the workweek that bothers me. I've never been good with change, never been good with transitions. I can only hope that I will be busy this week so the days don't drag by. Hell is a place where you are sitting at work, bored out of your mind, and unable to go home until you've completed your 8 hours, which last forever.
A couple of nights ago, I dreamed about him again. He walked away from me and I was fighting with myself because I didn't know whether to let him go or start desperately calling his name. And I wouldn't have known which name to call if I was going to call his name in the first place.
It's strange how we idealize a person we've been away from for a long time. I know that he was nowhere near perfect, but in these dreams, I only see the good side of him and I forget that he was not right.
Ugh. I am having the worst case of first world problems. They always teach you to make a difference, that your life shouldn't be spent in vain. I don't want to look back at my life when I'm 89 and in the nursing home and think... I did nothing with my life. I did nothing of value. So I have an ambition to do a good thing for someone, somewhere. I have spent my life being completely selfish and only caring about my own needs; now it's the time to do something for another person. But what should I do?
I get into this unfathomable rage sometimes. I guess it's because I'm not left alone as often as I feel that I should be; I'm an extreme introvert in terms of things like that. Even if the other person isn't talking or doing anything, I still don't want to be in the same room with them. I want a room by myself, and for people to come in randomly, but not to have someone constantly there. I have ranted way too much this week, but I rant here every week because this is a constructive outlet for rants, I guess.
Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night. Whenever this happens, horrible thoughts fill my head. I think of mortality and of years gone past. How 10 years have flown by so quickly and I never stop to think about it until those moments when I am lying in bed, waiting for sleep to whisk me away from these dark thoughts. I say a prayer to myself to get myself back to sleep, and 99% of the time, it works. I say the prayer twice and it works 100% of the time. I'm not much of an insomniac.
I woke up with that song "What's Up?" by 4 Non Blondes stuck in my head, probably because it fits my life so well these days. I'm praying for a revolution, feeling stuck in an institution, and when I wake up in the morning I take a deep breath, but instead of saying what's going on, I'm saying why the hell did you pull out in front of me, or why the hell aren't you going the speed limit, or why the hell are you going 20 miles over the speed limit, or something else. I try all the time.
I still have so much jealousy that it is hard to imagine that God loves me as much as others. I don't help as much, I don't have incredible talents, and I don't even have that much patience. I'm not as devout a Catholic as I ought to be, even though I try. I feel like a hypocrite and a failure. Some kind of demon. I am not sure how to raise my self-confidence up and keep it up. Every day seems like three steps forward and three steps back, leaving me right where I was with no progress.
I came up with an elaborate analogy of how work is like a video game. I wish I could go into the details, but it would be way longer than 100 words if I could. Why can't work be as fun as a video game? Because we take it too seriously. You can't take life too seriously because nobody gets out alive anyway. I guess that's how I should think of things. If I am so deadly serious all the time, I'll start to get boring and unhappy and start to depress the people around me, which is not my intention.
What bugs me about obituaries is that they never say how the person died. Sometimes if the person is old, they say that he/she died peacefully in her sleep. But if a teenager or a young adult died, you never know whether he/she died from cancer or a freak accident or a car wreck or an overdose or suicide... when I die, I want my obituary to say how I died, no matter how my demise came about. If I died in an embarrassing way, I want people to know, just as if I did die in my sleep.
All right, so I've become obsessed with this new band. The genre is symphonic death metal, so that will give you an idea of how they sound. They have a female lead singer. For some reason, I like listening to female singers more than male singers. Maybe it's because I'm a female and it's easier to sing along? I don't know. It would be really cool to learn how to scream like a death metal singer, but where would I use that talent? I've never been good in front of crowds. I couldn't use my death metal scream at work.
I'm watching an anime series called Princess Jellyfish, and it's actually really good. I can totally relate to the characters who are all single and in their 30s, except for the main character, who is 18 but looks 12 (but when I was 18, I looked 12, so there). They're all social misfits, like me. They don't have boyfriends and don't want to be anywhere near guys. The sign inside their apartment says "No Boys Allowed." And they're all obsessed with various things, like trains and traditional Japanese outfits and jellyfish. Me... I'm obsessed with books. I would fit in.
If I ever own my own house, I am not going to have blinds. I hate those things. They get twisted up, they break easily, they're hard to clean, and they're ugly. I would rather have no blinds and just have curtains. They don't require any kind of difficult cleaning. You put them in the washing machine or spot-clean them if they get dirty, and that's it. Easy. You can switch out your curtains to match the seasons, but blinds stay the same way all the time. I guess there are creative ways to decorate them, but why bother?
I gave up Tumblr indefinitely. I'm not 100% sure why I did it. I guess it was partly because I was wasting so much time on it and partly because I ended up comparing my life to others. I still haven't learned that the "life" everyone shares online is not their real life. I know this, but it's hard to believe it. Like when you meet with a group of people once a month for one hour. You judge the entire rest of their life, and you know absolutely nothing about it. It is very hard not to judge.
I watched a documentary called Jesus Camp the other night. It was an eye-opening look into an evangelical Christian camp where children are taught to be soldiers for Christ. It was more or less brainwashing children, and what struck me the most was that these children were crying over their "faith" and "beliefs" and sins. They were told that Harry Potter would have been put to death if he had lived in the biblical times... but you're forgetting one thing: Harry Potter is a fictional character. He does not exist. He's harmless. Extremist views are the real danger.
Only two weeks left in my old office before the office move. We're all going to a different building on the other side of the grounds. That should be interesting because the offices in the new building don't have windows. Don't they say that natural sunlight increases workers' productivity? What if we all become as pale as vampires, like something you'd find when you turn over a rock? It would be kind of creepy to look at, but I will miss the sunlight. I'll have to walk down the hall to find the closest window. It's a little sad, actually.
Trying to get all my other work done before I have to "start" at work. I suppose you could call it my "homework," the work that I should be getting done at home, but when I get home after the commute, I don't feel like doing anything except flopping on my bed and letting the cat sleep on my face. So I do it in the hour before work when hardly anyone is around anyway. Everyone's too busy getting coffee in their system or getting their kids to school that they can't be bothered to do any real work.
I hate when there's no real creamer left in the break room and we have to use that dehydrated creamer, or whatever it is. That white powder that only vaguely resembles creamer once it's put in the coffee and tastes and looks nothing like real creamer. Anyway.
In a dream last night, I smelled a scent that I have not smelled in a very long time, and it got me thinking about how the brain records all that stuff even if it's years after the fact. You remember everything you have ever seen or smelled or tasted, just not consciously.
I worry way too much about stuff that's not even worth worrying about. Like freaking out over deadlines that don't matter when you look at how the earth revolves around the sun in a universe too enormous to contemplate. Silly. I'm just one dot on the earth, and the deadline is a particle too tiny to be seen, too tiny to matter. The deadline only exists in the minds of those who created it, so it's not even visible. I am seeing myself from the view of the universe, and I do not see myself at all. I lost myself.
There needs to be a techo/trance/dubstep song called "Deadlines" if there isn't one already. It would be the perfect song for you to listen to while you are on a deadline (duh). It would start out slow, because at first, you're not paying much attention to the deadline... then it'd gradually get fast-paced because you're hectically rushing to meet the deadline, and it would eventually taper down or stop abruptly, meaning you've either met your deadline or failed to make it. In essence, it would capture the insanity of multiple deadlines on a Friday evening at work.
I hate it when you find a favorite blog online, but the blogger hardly ever posts, and when they do, the post is about how they feel so bad that they left their blog by the wayside and neglected to post. So eventually, their posts become more and more infrequent, and they stop posting altogether. So then you find a new favorite blog and the pattern more than likely repeats itself. There are only a few blogs that I have followed from long ago whose writers still post. I hope they never quit because I enjoy them just that much.
When I was younger, I used to read a lot of fantasy novels. I was obsessed with them, and I often believed my life was like a fantasy novel. That I was a maiden waiting for the moment that would spark my life and turn me into a heroine about whom many books would be written. That was before I realized that nothing is going to come and shake me up. I have to do that myself. God will shake me up, and he will give me life, but I must wait until his timing is right. This is real.
Ugh, I have no idea what to write about. I had a mad adrenaline rush that lasted most of the day, and I'm just now starting to come down from it. I could never see myself as an adrenaline junkie, but it's easy to do when you very rarely get a burst of energy like that. Most of the time, I'm sitting, I'm waiting for something to happen. That's a sign that I shouldn't wait, I should take matters into my own hands and do things for myself. I should make things happen instead of waiting for things to happen.
I saw a Freshly Pressed post on WordPress that had to do with the "biological clock" that women supposedly have and whether it's real. The writer thought her biological clock was missing because she had no desire to have children, and she never got that "nesting" instinct that women of a certain age are supposed to get. My answer to that is plain and simple: some people just don't want kids. It's not a bad thing, not necessarily. Not everyone wants kids; why should they? If everyone was like the Duggars, there would be no room left in the world!
Way back in high school, a guy in my class taught me that human bodily functions are very strange if you really think about them. So I thought about them: eating, defecating, urinating, sex, coughing, sneezing... they are pretty weird. Your body is like a factory, taking in the raw material (food), using the parts that it can (digestion), then getting rid of the excess (defecation). And sex is even more bizarre. The desire for the body parts of another, even when those body parts are kind of disgusting in themselves. You think you'll never do it, but you do.
Reality TV is so addicting yet it's so bad for you. It will rot your brain. Sometimes you can tell when the acting or the scenes are staged, and you can tell when the people are acting genuine. Toddlers and Tiaras is a waste of time because these people are investing themselves too heavily in primping their kids for the stage and a life of makeup-coated superficiality. It makes me a little bit sick. Strange Addictions is just bizarre. Drinking gasoline? Bathing in bleach? Eating rocks? Smelling a doll's head? It makes me happy that I'm not that weird.
Today's the last day in our building before we all move to a new office. This new office has no windows, and a lot of the staff who once had offices will now be in cubicles (well, they are calling the cubicles "workstations" as a kind of euphemism). I would honestly rather have a cubicle than an office because at least the cubicles are closer to a window. I want to know what the weather is like outside! I will miss the sound of the rain on the roof in the old building. It was soothing and helped me concentrate.
My brother was cleaning out his room and found some old Pokemon cards. I was sorting through them and realized how much I loved playing the Pokemon TCG. It was my entire life when I was in middle school, and I didn't care what anyone thought of it. All the other girls were getting into makeup and fashion and clothes, and I was content with my cards and my Gameboy Advance and my book collection and my PC virtual pet games. I was an awesome kid when I was in middle school. I do not give myself enough credit sometimes.
I dreamed that I wrote a poem for her. I wrote about her flaxen hair, her eyes that she thought were green but were really the gray of faded denim. Her slender limbs that looked like they had been cut from paper at harsh angles. Her teeth that she never revealed when she smiled. She is the symbol of something I have kept close to my heart for the longest time, and I don't understand. I don't love her as one would care for a lover or a friend. She should mean nothing to me, but I can't forget her.
We moved into our new office today, and it was actually pretty nice. The good far outweighs the bad, especially when I got out to my car (which had been in the parking deck) and realized that because it had been in the shade all day, I was not sweating my butt off when I got inside. Other than the shade, I'm not the biggest fan of parking decks because of all that concrete. The spaces are so narrow, and you either risk running into another car or concrete. And protagonists in movies often get attacked in parking decks.
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