REPORT A PROBLEM
Normally I am the person to say "so what? It's just a different number" when New Years rolls around. What makes this year any different? I can only speculate. Maybe I am waking up. Maybe I am only kidding myself in thinking that I will change my actions for the better.
I hope to make writing a habit this year. It isn't for the beauty of words that I fill this empty space but for the release of stress. Typically I bottle things up. When stress gets to be too much I use words as catharsis.
100 words? It seems so simple! But when everything and nothing are on one's mind at the same time such a simple task seems so... out of reach. What do I share with the world today? Was what I just deleted really something to hide? Do I reveal myself plainly or let readers create some hideous image in their own minds? I guess today I share my thought process of these specific words. Just because something doesn't need to be hidden doesn't mean it is something to share. I think I'll let readers(if any exist) assume what they may.
Accept me as I am and I will mold to your desire. Reject me and I will filter my thoughts and tweak my being until I find someone that enjoys the company I employ.
"Whoa," you ponder "Is this person really so deprived to think that he/she needs the approval of another to survive?"
My mind is blank from lack of answer. Perhaps I am pathetic enough to understand that I am just as manipulated as everyone else in this age.
Tell a stranger that the color purple suits her and soon her closet will drown in the regal hue.
For me, exposing emotion feels the same as exposing skin. The harsh fact is that I am a prude. An attempt to tickle fingers up my shirt -- ugh! Don't get me started on the queasy, tingly sensations that tremble through this body.
It does not matter if I am interested in the pursuer, I dare not oblige. One caught glimpse of my lust and I am vulnerable to my partner's whim.
No, no. Alone and dreaming sounds like the better option. Terminally single, as I like to label my status.
You cannot break me - I will break myself.
As ironic as it may seem, one sound that makes me shudder is the sound of typing. I tend to create inner dialogue for whoever controls the keyboard. Said character never fails to be snobby. “Oh my words are so profound. Watch me be great. I
great. Anyone who thinks otherwise is a fool.” In my head the typist’s shoulders rock back and forth with pride and his lips purse as if he is sharing an inside joke with himself. His inner dialogues never match mine. Never has he shrunk inside himself from embarrassment.
Will I ever stop shrinking?
A once steaming mug of green tea accompanies this morning's routine. The blinds are slightly cracked allowing me to creep on a lonely goose. He seems to be curious but calm- watching the once barren parking lot fill up as students move back into their flats. I wonder if he'll spy my new suite-mate before I. I also wonder how this semester will fare. After slipping back into my awkward routine with friends last night I realized I do not want to lose them, but I do hope to break out of my shell and become comfortable around new amis.
Typically when a friend (and even at times a stranger) has something he needs to get off of his chest, I am the person he seeks. I lend my ear, react accordingly and keep the shared issue to myself. It does not matter that the friend has told five other people his worries; I need not gossip. This reminds me of a time when I was in Elementary School and secrets were scarce. I held a grin so wide because I had a secret. The night before my mother warned me: “Don’t tell that we had ice cream for dinner.”
Numb limbs, foggy mind. Swaying side to side to remind myself I'm alive. It used to be that my thoughts were clear and crisp. I could remember what I had eaten for breakfast three weeks prior. Now, I just sit and sway. Sit and sway. Have I even eaten today? This is what inevitably happens at the beginning of any semester when I add up the expected total of textbooks (almost $400 this time) or when I step into a classroom and find the guy I've been fancying for the second time that day.
It’s time to sit and
The rain the wind the sky the trees-
I’m not being poetic, I’m just listing things.
The past couple of days have been frigid and damp. Be that as it may, this season has yet to witness me don boots or winter jackets. It is not that I do not like this in-between weather; it is that other weather is preferred. A blinding sun is only worthwhile if heat dances on my skin. The wind is only welcome if I shiver.
When the weather is indecisive so am I on the temperature of tea. Would I rather ice or steam?
Guys say I shove them into the friend zone. If they either can't take no for an answer or do not remain my friend I consider it to be me who is placed into a zone - the relationship/friends with benefits zone. Nuh-uh, not my cup of tea. While I understand that rejection is not easy, rejecting is difficult as well. Knowing you may have disappointed someone is never something one takes lightly. Truth be told, I may have worried myself to sleep enough that the first thing I did this morning was stick my head in a trash can.
Flip the switch, will you please?
I find myself again in darkness as the shadows begin to close in. I try to fight them but I am frozen in fear. I am never able to save myself. Yes, it is my fault for allowing the darkness to creep but I do not know how to attract the light. I embodied illumination for 11 days this time. So please, help me rid my claustrophobic mind from its heliophobia.
Ahh the shadows!
Their multiplying won't cease. Duller and more distant are the lights once adorning me.
Flip the switch, will you
Nothing interesting is going to fill this space today so just give up reading this piece now. All I will do is make it to 100 words without telling a tale. Not much will be learned about me, or anything else really, if these words are read. If someone acquires knowledge from this jumbled slew consider me surprised. That is not my intention. Please ignore me, oh bored one, as I ramble on about the lack of knowledge that is contained within these sentences. Golly gee, what a trooper you are to still have your eyes grazing this useless page.
I am content with being alone if my solitude is undetected by others. If I find myself in a situation where it may appear to someone that I am by myself for extended periods of time I am embarrassed. I will place an open textbook next to me or "feel ill" to disguise that I just want to stay inside all day
. This is something about me that I do not understand. Why am I ashamed of my introverted habits? Sometimes people just need to be enveloped in their own silence. I guess I'm looking for courage.
One of my textbooks is teaching us to write simplistically. Filler, pompous, faddish, and pretentious language is not allowed in anything we write. Now, I am not saying I use pretentious language but I do adore fluffing up my pieces. When given an assignment of a predetermined length it is natural for me to do all I can to fill up the space. I do not typically give second thought to whether or not the content is well scripted, I care that I have done all that I have been asked. This class might actually make me meet my maker.
If I believed in Fate I would find him a cruel being. I would blame him for directing my feet on an unnecessary path this evening. I would blame him for my eyes glancing towards a certain scene. I would blame him for my stuttering heart and I would blame him for my weak knees. I would also blame him for forcing me to ponder unlikely scenarios that were not previously welcomed in this wayward mind and this coward heart. If I believed in him I'd say, "Cruel cruel being Fate is when paired up with my inability to breathe."
In regards to the future- Need I know not the who, the what, the when nor the why. Especially not even need I know the how. Just knowing minuscule details on the content of the future would spoil the fickle journey. The solid
is my only concern. If I were to know
I am to be content or miserable, loved or alone I could either prepare my heart for his inevitable sorrow or I could simply cease my current worried state. Knowing that I'd be miserable would be a cruel fate but it is better than perpetual disappointment.
I can't believe I almost forgot about this! Before starting this Website I had never before stuck to something so well. It is a shame that my mind had a lapse. Here I am - remembering to fake my way into the real world. I say fake my way because I mean that I do not feel that when I write it holds any merit. My fingers only fly across the keyboard without a second thought. Sure, I may attempt to revise my words for
but I don't really ever do too much before I click that fateful publish button.
There are so many things I wish I could say right now. I want to explain why I am upset. I want to explain why I am excited. I want to explain why I am nervous. I was to explain why I am sore. I want to explain why I can't explain. Luckily today, while I mostly coddled my negative mindset, I had a break. I conversed with the one person I trust. It stuns me how much "I feel frustrated for you" resonates. It's funny how I just got off the phone with her and already regret saying goodbye.
I have yet to be in front of my computer today. I don't see myself getting to it at all so I apologize for the rushed words. If there are any typos blame my smart phone's keyboard. Currently I am sitting on a couch watching a character be devoured by unidentifiable beasts. It doesn't stop! Monsters monsters everywhere. I love the hypocrisy in Silent Hill. I know what they're supposed to do next but I'm keeping my mouth shut. I enjoy keeping secrets. It makes me feel evil. Once again I apologize for spewing to you my stream of consciousness.
It is all around me.
It is soothing.
It symbolizes organization.
It symbolizes control.
To me, rhythm is comfort.
The pit pat of my feet on the track, the pants escaping my lungs, the beat of Boy Kill Boy playing through my ear-buds are all in equal pace. If only this moment was in tune with the rest of my life. Alas, I am here because it is the only place I feel comfort. This is possibly due to the fact that most happenings in my life are influenced heavily by others,
but my footsteps are mine.
The clock on the computer tells me that it is almost eight.
The clock in my body tells me that it is time to close my eyes for the last time tonight.
The tea resting beside me tells me that I still have a few more hours to go.
The messages on my phone tell me I have options for how to fill those hours.
The ache in my head tells me that staying in is the preferred decision.
The homework I ignored tells me to cease procrastination.
The word counter tells me this point in my night is over.
How ironic is it that I purposefully created my schedule around the idea of sleeping in and I end up waking up at seven in the morning anyway? I giggle at the idea.
As boring as lists are here's one of my day:
3am finally fall asleep.
7am find a way to roll my lazy bum out of bed.
8am attend a workshop that teaches how to use the equipment for my schools morning show for which I hope to volunteer.
9am 7 miles of "cycling" at the gym
12pm (this current moment) leave for class.
The purpose of our walls is merely to block out sight. Sound floats through them as if they are amplifiers. No conversation is safe from unseen ears on the other side. "I'm surprised she didn't hit on -insert name here-." Those are the words of which my drowsy brain collected. The pillow suppressed my giggle. While I may have been tucked into both bed and my dreams reality was curiously able to seep in. Apparently my friends are still unaware that I do not have a capacity to "hit on" the guys that I find intriguing. I'm terminally single... remember?
Today I am on the other side of the wall. Everything I say is susceptible to not belonging to just the ears I intend. Because I fear vulnerability I keep my mouth shut. Silence on my part. Maybe I'm silent because the intentions of others are unknown. Is it I who is coming off too strong? I hope it is the opposite. I fear though that I've been expecting that wall to guard me from more than being seen. Gahhh. I need to figure myself out. Heck, maybe I feel odd because I am only living off of little sleep.
Sometimes I feel like the least understood word in the English language is one of the first ones learned.
What is this word? The word is "no."
I do not know about you but for some reason there is no merit held when this word comes out of my mouth. I may whisper it with a twinkly smile and pat someone's hand away at first, but when I the word "no" is surrounded by words like- honestly, seriously, or stop, why is it difficult to comprehend? Instead I am constantly told that I am a tease.
Explain to me how.
Quesadillas, burritos nachos and pasta are just about the only foods I consume. Why is this? Their ingredients are just about the only groceries I keep in stock. Living on a "college budget" can be quite unhealthy. Every once in a while I'll stretch my wallet and make a veggie burger but even then it's in a tortilla. Currently I find my stomach rumbling but I can't quite force myself to pour salt and water into my worn pot and set it to boil. Thoughts of salads, paninis, eggplant, zucchini, green beans, sushi and pie are teases to my tongue.
I woke up this morning with the thought of a lazy day. I brought my laptop to the living room as to not disturb a sleeper. I hoped to remain in that spot all day. I looked over to my phone and realized my friend had texted me asking if I wanted to go spinning. "It is only a 45 minute class- it won't be that bad." Two hours after the class was over and we were still at the gym. While I have gone to the gym an equivalent of once a day this week, I felt this one.
Changing gears- my priorities need to be set straight. I am directing myself on a decent path but there are people on perpendicular roads who get in my way forcing me to change to reverse. I'm going at a decent speed but I fear that my past (from when I was on a more dangerous road) might catch up with me. I could do more with this metaphor but am far too exhausted. Every single day these past two weeks has been stuffed. No time to myself. The rest of this blurb is going to be filled with useless words.
And on some days it feels as though I have both everything and nothing at the same time. Some days tangible objects dictate how I swing my mood. For example, a few minutes ago I decided to search my room for my black skinny jeans. It has been a while since they were last spotted by my eye. (I have a cute blouse I wish to wear them with tomorrow.) Alas in none of the crevices I searched were they found. Why this was the straw to break the camel's back? I don't know. I'm glad none witnessed my tantrum.
So far in this 100 words journey, seven percent of the words typed by these hands are one certain word. If this word was given to you it would deflate the goal set for this post.
After realizing that all of the previous posts under the assumed name "Chase" contained the certain letter that is always capitalized when standing alone, the idea for the formation of the words of which you are reading currently was formed.
Perhaps the subject for the 31st will be considered a more creative challenge.
Perhaps there will be no reference to the writer at all.
Groceries are low as is incentive to buy more. Money is not tight per se, but a frugal mindset has yet to be uncovered.
This week has been a personal test. If this test had been graded, at the top of the page one would find a daunting
along with the line,
Did you even try?
While this may not be my best week, pride can be taken from the finishing of these words. A goal has been achieved - that is a first. Perhaps a steaming mug of coffee will be made my prize.
January was not too shabby.
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