I find as I get older, the less damn I give. Tides change, man as well. I want less, and do more. It’s a never ending cycle of betterment. I feel time slip between my fingers. I feel disappointment daily. I want more for my son and husband. I can never give or do enough. Granted, I still do not feel old. Is that coming, or will I ever? My face ages, my spirit does not.
Irony, I love and I loathe you.
I sit here at my kitchen table and I type. Not a soul knows I have this blog, and honestly I haven’t a clue what to do with it. Should I record my thoughts here, my gripes, my life… what? I want to use my little corner of the web, for good… mostly. I just haven’t nary an idea as to what.
Living, breathing… neither of those are an easy task, when memories come barreling out of the dark to assault the already precarious balance you have managed to scrape out for yourself. I want to scream how I feel to the mountain tops, I want to crawl into a hole and hide. I want to cry for who I used to be, I want to dance in joy at who I am… now. Conflict-ions, contradictions… I am woman hear me roar. I don’t like feeling this way… but I can’t deny how I feel either.
One moment I feel as if I could fly…. another I feel as if my heart is going to burst from my chest. I don’t like this weakness, I don’t like surprises. I don’t like being disrupted. I want what I cannot have… I want what I’ve denied and given up…. I want what is not responsible of me. If nothing else is to be known of myself, I am honorable, I am responsible. I do what is right, even if it cuts me to the bone.
I’m struggling right now. This too shall pass… I’ve weathered harsher storms, but none so cold as this.
I just started my Bachelors in Education. I’m beginning to think I’m demented. If I could be a perpetual student I would; with that being said, I’d like a maid as well. There is not enough time in one day to devote time to my studies as I would like. For example, I’m typing this with my course work squished beneath my arms. ANYTHING to keep from doing it, I’ll find it. I WILL get this done. I just don’t want to at the moment. The moment I have something more pressing to do, I’ll want to do course work. As I said – Demented!
So, I’ve spent the past few days re-vamping my blogging ideas. I’ve cleaned my office, updated my planner and found my wireless keyboard. (This is important, as you will see in a future post!)
Needless to say, I’m getting there. I’ve also spent the past few hours working on my blog design. It’s apt to change, and often until I can settle on what background to live with. The joys!
Now to find my camera cords…
Sometimes, despite out best efforts we have people that it’s best just to walk away from. I tend to find that those people are the one’s I seem to surround myself with. I must like to punish myself.
I’ve also discovered that myself as well as my friends are evolving. Thirty something’s are quite pretentious aren’t they?
Growing up is hard.
I journal, to keep my sanity. I wouldn’t dare share the thoughts I write. I say most of what I think, and never what I feel. I keep those with me, I place those in print. Print for my eyes alone. I reread them years later, I like to see my mental traipsing, most times I cringe. Sometimes I cry. Writing makes me feel whole. Writing is my mirror. I see not the wrinkles in my hands, my face, my eyes. I see the deep grooves on the paper from my pen, and I know that I have lived.
I hate those who gripe, those who complain about the unfairness of life. Now, before one gets their drawers all in a knot… give me a chance to explain myself. Everyone complains, everyone has “issues” of some sort or another, I will lend an ear if need be – but… I don’t understand the ones who complain about things that are THEIR fault. The cause is their fault and their fault alone, NO ONE else was the cause.
Quite simply put…
“Life is pain, Princess. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”
Yet, to me, it is all in how one copes. I prefer accountability. What a limited thing that is, yet I chose to revel in it. I am by no means a saint, and yes I have my own tortured past. ( The kind that decides it’s going to march to my front door and follow me through out my entire day whilst carrying flaming torches running rampantly behind me.) But I don’t run from my mistakes… I leave them as they are, these are my faults, my existence and my example of what not to do in the future. HOWEVER… I do realize that others do no hold themselves to the same accountability… so there fore I either work on being more humble and understanding OR I just cut bait.
And, to be honest… cutting bait is looking good. Ain’t nobody got time for that.