zHOMG

sometimes i look at my life and wonder what the fuck is going on. and then i think, maybe, just maybe, i’m not ready to understand where this path is going. 

now, i’m not talking about god or religion leading down some path or that madonna is whispering in my hears that life is a mystery and that i must stand alone. what i mean is that i am not actually ready to understand why things are the way they are in my life.

it is like when you go to school for the first time and the teacher doesn’t tell you about negative numbers or fucking imaginary ones. and then one day, you go to class sometime down the line and they say, so when you take a smaller number from a larger number, it makes a negative. and mind. blown.

i knew about negative numbers but i never realized where they came from - it wasn’t a big deal. i just went with it, i wasn’t yet ready to understand. i wasn’t asking the right questions. 

sometimes i think that my life is in the midst of chaos theory. i dropped a piece of paper once and ever since then, shit has been going on. i just don’t know. 

i just don’t know.

how old is too old to run away?

making braised pork loin and discovering that i don’t trust just extra virgin olive oil to give my pork a golden crust. no, i must add copious amounts of butter. 

there is nothing wrong with butter, right? 

i am twenty-six years old - how the hell can i make a life decision? when i was eighteen (why doesn’t eighteen have two ‘t’s? i will now pronounce it “eight - een”) i made a choice to move from pa to texas. then, when i was twenty-four i moved out of my parent’s house. 

and now, i’m twenty-six and i have to move again and i am in a new job for the first time in almost eight years and i have no idea what the fuck is going on. how the hell can i make a life decision? i’ve never left america, never had a great romance, never wrote a novel, never voted, never volunteered, don’t exercise, can’t sing, still get a little confused on right and left and i cannot spell miscellaneous without looking it up. plus, i like to call eucalyptus oil “koala bear food oil”. 

i play magic the gathering, i bake desserts all the time, i talk to my cats (one of them is deaf), i still collect trinkets and stuffed animals, i dress like no one’s business, wear ton of makeup, i love soda and can barely balance a checkbook.

… people are kidding themselves if they think that anyone is ever ready to make a life decision. 

maybe the joke is on me - maybe i am just thinking about this too much and everyone else can feel this in the back of their mind but they ignore it. none of us are ready. 

and maybe, that’s the best part. 

looked around my house today, after work and shopping, and thought to myself: i can clean tomorrow after mtg or even saturday morning. i ain’t got nothing doing.

that was three hours ago.

just fucking realized i need to make a pumpkin pie cheesecake. … i feel like a failure.

imma make my cheesecake and then sulk while desleeving cards. 

i don’t even like pumpkin. or pie. 

i thought the water for my pasta was boiling so i screamed and fell over on the way to the kitchen. it wasn’t boiling. 

my life is disappointed in that. 

pasta.

sometimes i look at my dash and the posts of the people i follow and the posts that the people i follow reblog and i think to myself: these people are fucking freaks. 

then have to include myself in that too, ‘cos you know, i follow them. 

and i love it. we’re fucking freaks and it’s all good. 

you know how you watch a movie or read a book and the main character does something on a whim and you think to yourself, “people in real life don’t do that shit.” they don’t move to another country without a second thought, they don’t just jump into a lake with a drowning person, they don’t take any fucking action?

sometimes, it hits me in strange moments - but i’m friends with that person and it’s not just one, it’s two of them. the only two people in the world that i give my time to, and they are both people of action. and there is something peculiar about being friends with that person, the one who decides: “fuck i’m bored let’s go to spain and do something.” being friends with a person of action is like being friends with a miserable person.

it is fucking infectious. when you are with them, you can’t help but try to fit into their world and soon enough, you too are like, “we should totally just road trip and get the hell outta town.” damn the consequences, because in the end, they don’t even matter. 

something is always happening. 

i ended up being friends with these two during weird times in my life. the first one was right after a pivotal and defining moment. and the other before another pivotal and defining moment was about to happen. 

the first moment would have happened regardless if i was friends with either of them. the second happened because i was friends with both of them, but it is one of those moments where you realize that if i hadn’t known either of them, it would have never happened. 

and where the fuck would i be now? would i be here, writing this? no. i would probably still be at a job where i felt comfortable but not happy. i would still be stuck in a rut, staying home all the time. i would be … different. or rather, the same. i would be the same if nothing ever happened. 

i am not that person of action. i am that miserable friend but when confronted by not one, but two people of action, you have to shape up or ship out. people of action do not turn into the miserable friend. we are either cast out or we attempt to follow in some footsteps. 

it just blows my mind. 

today i was asked where i see myself in the next five years. whether it be in my personal life or work life and like all the other times i have been asked where i see myself in five years, i answer the same. 

are people asking where I will be in five years? or are they asking where I will be in five years? in five years, i will probably be a different person. i am a different person from the one i was in august of this year, when everything changed. and it wasn’t because some fire nation attacked. 

i have no idea where i will be next week. sometimes when going home, i end up not at home. i end up at my best friend’s house. or with the buffalo. i can’t say for sure where i will be at any time, who i will be at any time.

in five years, i may be living in Italy having passionate affairs. or maybe i will be complaining in Russia about the weather. Or perhaps living off the coast in California wondering if the beach will give me cancer. 

or maybe nothing will have changed. but looking at the people in my life, i highly doubt that. 

hell, i moved half-way across the country on a whim. and turned my whole life upside down. i am not the same person who graduated high school almost ten years ago. there are parts of me that are the same, but other parts that did evolve. 

it is amazing these transformations that we go through. some of us take to them so readily, some of us hold onto the past and some people, like myself, go half and half. i hold on to some things and let go of others. it amazes me. 

anyway, here i am, surrounded by these people that i thought were only in books or movies or tv shows. people who look and say, “yeah, let’s do it.” and then they do it and they give others the strength to do things too. 

see, the other people they usually give strength to, it’s for that moment. when you are friends with that person, that moment persists. you can’t not do something, like i said it’s contagious. like a bad flu. you can’t control it. 

i don’t really know where this was going. i just needed to let someone know. 

all i want to do is eat hot dogs and play magic the gathering. 

life is so awesome.

sometimes, i feel utterly alone. i have my life, and then i have my life. i share a lot of things with the two most important people in my life. i basically share as much as i possibly can with them. but i find that there are some things that i just can’t share. 

it’s not that i don’t want to. it’s that i find myself physically unable to share things. i find myself, so full of words, unable to verbalize. and it kills me a little inside. it makes me feel so utterly alone. 

i realize that i talk a lot, there isn’t really a time when i am quiet. i live alone but i talk to myself anyway, no matter what is going on. it does not help the loneliness. it just feels like someone trying to get out and having no where to go, because there is no where to go.

sometimes i wish i was more inspired. i feel like i missed something growing up. the Russian told me once that she didn’t know where i fit, because it’s not that i didn’t fit anywhere, it’s that i just fit. like something that is just floating there. ready to move but content. 

and then she asked what i want to do with my life. and honestly, i haven’t a fucking clue. i worked for seven years with one company and they abandoned me when i helped out my Buffalo. it was one bad decision, grouped into seven years of awesome decisions. and so, they let me go. or rather, they forced me to go. 

and i found myself in a new place that wasn’t for me, but the Russian brought me there and that was good. we got closer. and then, i ended up going to this awesome place where i am now and i don’t know i wasn’t here before. 

but i still don’t know where i will be this time next year. or tomorrow. or ever. and the Russian tells me when i tell her that i don’t know what i want to do with my life, she tells me that sometimes, people don’t start their lives until later. until they are ready to start living. 

and sometimes i feel like that person. i’m twenty-five now, closer to twenty-six. and i don’t feel like i’ve done anything. i am sure that the Russian and the Buffalo would tell people otherwise, they are the only two who know me so well. 

and sometimes i just feel so utterly alone. i look at what i do, personally. my version of art, wrapped up in words. i write books and screenplays and short stories and musicals and i never let anyone see. i know that they aren’t bad. i just don’t know if i can share it with people. like, physically able. 

i don’t even know what i am feeling right now. 

i’m just gonna go sulk or something. maybe watch a sad movie and cry it out. 

i hope that i can hold onto this feeling for the month of november, i do feel like this will actually help a book this time. 

who the fuck knows?

just came to the conclusion of why i enjoy playing magic so much at draft nights. it’s the only time i go out and socialize with people who neither family nor co-workers or people who are so involved in my life that i met at work. 

i get to go to a place where i don’t feel uncomfortable, pick out cards by picture and then i get to have super awesome fun by making decks. it’s easy for me and i get out of the house for a few hours and see people that i never see. 

it makes for a good time and i’m fairly sure people love playing against me. i procure the best lands - finally found the plains card with zebras on it - and i do commentary. i can’t just play a card, i will give it a story, a meaning. put down some sweet, succulent land. turn that bitch into mana. oh, yeah.

… i may have some problems, but no one has complained yet. 

why do i love MTG so much?! it’s almost Thursday which means one more day until Friday, which always signifies a Draft with Limited. 

i think it was that three day pre-release that did me in - but it was so fucking awesome. 

i may have finally found my people and a place i go where i don’t feel hassled. why, oh why has it taken me so long to get back to you?!

i hate that feeling you get when you all you think “i’m so not enough” and then you can’t even talk to anyone about it because you don’t want them to tell you it is okay. you just want to hear the fucking truth and want to be told, “yeah, you aren’t.” this way you can just be relieved.

‘cos my biggest fear is that i’m lying to myself and would it kill someone to tell me it isn’t okay? to tell me that i am right about this and that i am not enough anymore. i hate it when people try to be nice and lie to my face ‘cos they think it is better than the alternative. 

sometimes (all the time) i hate the fact that i need people. why can’t i go back to to the way i was before? when needing people wasn’t an issue, when i didn’t feel like i needed someone to help me keep my head afloat. now though, i’m all broken inside ‘cos i gave into it. i let people come and be part of me. and now i have to let go all over again. 

i’ve broken my own heart plenty of times; why do they keep promising that they won’t break my heart? is it to make themselves feel better? to try to and prove that i am wrong about people?

i ask that people not make promises they cannot keep. maybe they didn’t know they couldn’t keep this promise, but i sure as a bear shits in the would knew that they wouldn’t, couldn’t and most likely shouldn’t. 

am i worth their promises? probably not. but for one shining moment, i felt special. 

i’m not, though, special in that way. i’m special in the way that i don’t lie to myself about shit. i see it for what it is and i let people know that i know. i just wish other people could do that, too. see when they fuck shit up and can just admit it. 

they won’t. but it is okay, i will just clean up the mess. pick up the pieces. send you back out to the big, scary world where you will forget about me for a while, until the next time you need someone to help put you back together. 

i’m as much to blame as you. i promise myself that i will let go. i won’t pick up the phone, won’t answer the text message, won’t think about you at all, because i know you aren’t thinking about me. i’m not even a blip on the radar. 

all that talk about how you can’t talk to anyone else, no one sees what i see, that i listen differently. but now that there is a hand to hold that isn’t mine, a place to sleep that isn’t here, it doesn’t matter how much more i am than someone else. i am not enough. 

what breaks my heart is that you were enough. i don’t need the same things other people do. i understand that most of us are trying to find a soul mate, a significant other. someone to share our bodies with because that is what we have.

i did that once. and it ended. not badly but not good either. but i don’t miss that. all the hurt. all the pleasure. everything in between. i’m not looking for a boyfriend, girlfriend or whatever else there is. i was just looking for someone to be above all that. more than some person i know. more than a friend. more than a sibling. more than someone to fall in love with. but i’m not enough for other people like that. 

everyone else is looking for their “once in a lifetime”, that mysterious pull of romantic love. it’s okay. i understand. i’m just asking that you take back all those promises you gave me. i told you what i wanted. and you told me what you thought i wanted to hear. 

i told you once before, i want to hear the fucking truth. i don’t run away from it. no reason to. i respect it. if you can’t be there for me, if you have to leave me, just tell me. don’t promise that you won’t walk away like the others. don’t promise me that you will always be mine in some small way. 

you’re selfish. and that’s okay. i’m selfish, too. only difference? i know that i am and it doesn’t kill me to admit that i do things because of it. it’s the reason why i like to take care of people - it makes me feel better because other people think i am a better person because of it. fuck that. i do it for me. everyone is selfish, i am just not hiding it. it doesn’t kill me to know that about myself. 

i’m not enough. and i wish, i wish so fucking hard that when i tell you that, you simply agree. don’t tell me it’s okay. don’t fucking stroke my hair. don’t tell me that you will always be there for me. you won’t be there for me, not always.

but when your heart breaks again, and you feel like nothing good is ever going to happen, when you are so lost and scared and stuck in the dark - let me know. just let me know. 

i know that you will leave me, that i won’t be enough, not always. but when you need me, i will be there. i will give myself over to your whims, to love you and care for you and make sure that you are all better. and i will watch you leave me again and it will kill me a little more. 

but i will wait for your return, knowing that one day you won’t. 

that’s okay. it is enough.