Where am I?

So, it's February. Oh, time.

An old friend of mine, Brad, used to yell at me every time I made a comment about how time feels like it's flying by so fast. "Time never goes faster or slower," he'd argue. "Time is just arbitrary numbers we give to to sunsets and sunrises." Which, yes, it could be true.

I hear there are people in the world who argue that time as we know it isn't really a straight line that we imagine it being, that it twists and curves and folds in on itself, and that's why when we look back at our memories we sometimes have trouble remembering what came first in any sequence of events to lead us to where we are now, at whatever particular moment in time. 

Sometimes I wish there were more hours to a day, or that sleeping wasn't necessary - at all. As much as I hate to leave the comfort of a warm bed on a cold morning in winter, a bigger part of me always resents that moment in the wee hours of the morning when I have to tell myself that it's time to lay down and give up the day, and it always pisses me off, because very infrequently do I feel like I've done enough with the hours I had, or at least did enough of the things I wanted to do with them.

This blog, I'm not using it like it should be used. I'm not saying the things I should be and want to be saying because within all of us there are secrets and in my case they can't be given up, even though I'm coming to realize that one of the secrets I am keeping is shaping my life into something I don't understand and haven't been able to come to terms with. 

What things do you hold on to and what do you give away? What does it mean to be authentic in a place where you are still constantly admitting that you are a secret keeper because some things just can't be discussed online or with anyone else in your life? And really in the end, what does that matter?

I could tell you about how this morning as I was walking in to work there was shattered glass in the parking lot, and the clear shards I stepped around twinkled in the sun and momentarily blinded me, and I was half annoyed and half amazed that trash really can be beautiful. I could tell you that I have listened to Britney Spears pretty much non-stop today and her music does more for my mood than chocolate or sex put together. I could tell you that in the last week I've panicked over my financial situation, and that I am not proud of the fact that the only snacks Elise has to take to school right now are string cheese sticks and baggies of mommy's cereal, and that we've eaten pasta with butter and cheese for days on end because putting gas in my car to get to work takes precedence over grocery shopping, and the cost of milk and fuel only rises. 

I could tell you anything, is my point, and I usually don't because I am hiding behind this wall of fear. Fear like I've always had as a writer on the internet - of being rejected by people who know me. Fear of being considered a fraud or a fake, because even if those things aren't true, they are impossible to defend against when you don't have a posse to back you up, to explain things to people who don't understand.

I don't know where I am now on this life journey we all have going on, but I'm starting to understand, slowly and painfully, who I am. That's something.

Rambly & Bullety

This is technically day 24 of NaBloPoMo (remember, I count it as blogging every DAY if I haven't fallen asleep yet. Heh.), and this is the first day that I've put off posting and lazed around and procrastinated over it because I got that "What the hell am I going to blog about?" feeling, as if I didn't have anything to say.

I'm really tired, and probably this isn't a good time to speculate on anything at all, but I think that when I get to those times where I don't know what to say or feel like I have nothing important to say, what's really going on is that I have TONS of things that I want to say, ALL AT ONCE, and I just can't even begin to get them all out of me, so nothing much comes. But this is NaBloPoMo, goddamnit, and I've committed myself to this, so we will do it bullet style. There are many things on my mind tonight, including:

My weight. I weighed myself before getting in the shower today and realized that not only have I gained five pounds or so in the last month it seems, but I now, at this very moment, weigh more than I've ever weighed in my whole life. My weight fluxuates a pound or two up or down between times I weigh myself, which is maybe twice a month or so lately. But suddenly I have crossed this threshold that I have never been over before, and it scares me. What with Gary having a heart attack earlier this month, my getting older and grayer by the minute, and by the fact that I STILL have a box of size 12 clothes in my closet that I refuse to part with, I am thinking that it is going on DIET TIME once again. Weight Watchers, here I come...AGAIN.. but maybe after Christmas, because yes, I know that it's a life changing sort of deal.

I need to talk about myself more. This is funny, because there is this girl I know, and I don't really like her, and one of the biggest reasons I don't like her is that she talks about herself CONSTANTLY. No matter what the topic of conversation is, she not only can, but it's like she has to and DOES weasel her way into it so suddenly everything is about her, or she just changes the topic SO it's about her. I hate that. On the other hand, this is my blog. This is for me, and it's for Elise, and it's so I can give my two friends a break and not use anyone I love as my therapist. I WANT to work shit out. I want to figure out what I am doing with my life, what I WANT to do with my life, because so far even that is just out of reach. I'm very into Lists lately, and I keep seeing lists on other blogs '100 Things About Me' - you know the ones. The list that is comprised of just a line or two of information that may be vague or strange or weird that is supposed to give deeper insight into a person. I want to do that. But I want to do it bigger and better. I'm still thinking on that, but I will get back to you.

Failing NaNoWriMo. I've already talked about it once, but I know that there is much more that needs to be said on the subject. I think I'm saving that one for the 30th. 

My financial and living situations. Neither of them are good. In fact, both of them are really fucking miserable right now. Are other people as embarrassed as I am to talk about my failings in either of these categories of life? It's something I need to explore further, the reasoning behind why I don't talk to people, or even write, about these sorts of personal things. I get that no one probably wants to hear about how I'm "poor" when really there are so many people worse off than I am. It's one of those situations where I feel like I don't have the right to complain when I know there are so many who are so worse off, but at the same time, these things have huge impacts on my daily life, they are part of the reason I am who I am, and I feel like neglecting to talk about them in a way diminishes my intent for some authenticity around here. 

The Vampire Diaries. I know, I know. I get in to all this heavy shit, and then come back to television, the thing I should not be partaking in with such frequency. However, I am smitten with this little show. I can't get over how unbelievably hot I find Ian Somerhalder to be in this show, and, thanks to Kevin Williamson, it's the perfect combination between campy, sexy, and totally dramatic that I fucking LOVE. 

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I can't believe how it snuck up on me this year, and I practically had a panic attack today when I realized that Christmas is just weeks away and I am not prepared for it. The fact that Elise's birthday IS CHRISTMAS DAY is just compounding that stress. I have no idea what we will do for her birthday this year, or how I will afford it. Oh, look. There it is. 

I am going to finish watching this Vampire Diaries episode, and then read The Tommyknockers until I pass out. Tomorrow, I guess I will be gracefully thankful for things, or at least I will try to be.

Honesty is the Path to Authenticity

There are lots of things I've wanted to write lately about blogging, writing, and living in general. Living my life with my friends and family, living my life online with my writing buddies who see me more real than those close to me often do - it's a hard balance that I am still trying to figure out over here.

And everywhere I look lately I am seeing these workshops put on by people who just seem to have it all together and going right for them. What makes these people think they are qualified to teach me how to live an authentic life, what makes these women think that they can help me find the beauty in my life better than I could hash it out on my own? It annoys me, seeing these workshops advertised, seeing people flock to bloggers like they have all the answers - and it annoys me that there is a big part of me that just wants to see what it is all about, and wants to see if I really can figure out how to be more authentic in life, but I just can't afford it.

Honesty, obviously, is the first step to authenticity. 

I am honestly broke. More broke than I have been so far in my adult life. The rent and insurance is paid (but the electric bill, the phone bill, and the cable bills aren't), there is food in the kitchen for me and Elise (although none of it would make it onto a list that said 'healthy' on the top), there is gas in the car (as long as I don't go far) and twenty-nine dollars in my pocket to see me through until Friday (because my checking account was overdrawn when the car insurance was automatically charged.) The savings account, you may ask? It's been empty for months. 

I know that I am on a dangerous road. I'm twenty-nine. It's time to start building up that fabled nestegg, right? It's time to start thinking about retirement, or at least thinking about the time in my life that is coming sooner than I can imagine when I am old and tired and maybe not able to work as much or as effienciently for the money as I am now. The fact is, now, I have no future. I have no chance. I have no light at the end of the tunnel that is keeping my head above water, because I know that when Friday comes and two weeks of my pay is directly deposited into my bank, there will be nothing to smile about, because that money is already spent. 

There was a time that I didn't want to blog about my real life. I didn't want to blog about the things that bothered me, the things that scared me, the things that hurt me. I didn't want to bring anyone down to the down low where I've been at, hiding inside, for quite a bit too long.

But honesty is the path to authenticity, or so I've been told. So honestly: I am struggling. Thankfully there are things to be happy about and look forward to, and my next list of grace should be a good one.

To beat back the blues, Elise and I are going to dinner at Alisha and Dan's tonight. We're going to have American Chop Suey, I am going to do our laundry, and at some point we are going over Daryl Justin Finzio's house to pick up lawn signs for his mayoral campaign. 

See, that is something I haven't been writing about for one reason or another - the part that I've gotten to be quite active lately in local politics, being that I've finally found someone who inspires me to work hard for change in a town I fled from and flee to on a regular basis. 

All this goodness, all of these great things that I have been doing lately, like campaigning for Daryl with my best friend, like writing more lately than I have in months, like the fact that today I am going to place a folder filled with my words and pages into Dan's hands and pretty much give him my heart - these things have been paled by my inability to open up and be honest and authentic with myself, with you.

But I'm working on it. See?