![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Hey there, all...
Tomorrow, at 2:16 a.m. central daylight time, I will officially be 22 years old. I'm not quite sure how I feel about this...there are all kinds of angles that come up, and they're all fighting for dominance inside me.
Part of me (most likely the Leo aspect) wants everyone to just spend that one day worshipping my existence, giving me presents, patting me on the back, and saying nice things about me while drinking shots of whiskey. This is the part I would like to get rid of; not only do I know it won't happen, but if it ever actually happened, I'd be more disgusted with myself for wanting to be socially masturbated like that. The fantasy seems nice yes, but the reality of it would just make me feel...dirty.
Another part of me is just...glad I've gotten to this point. Looking back on the past 22 years of my life that I can remember, and knowing all that I've been through, being where I am is...well, it's a pretty good place for me, all things considered. I still have such a long way to go, so much more to experience...but I have quite a bit of faith that it's only a matter of time before I do it. It just feels...good, looking back on the progress that I've made.
Yet another part of me wants to take tomorrow and use it as a springboard to start something new. I'll probably do a ritual of some sort, just whatever feels right...and maybe expand my consciousness a bit with the use of certain household products. I *do* have a cough, after all.
What'll probably end up happening is I'll work late, come home, run my Mutants Down Under game, drink a little bit, watch a movie or two, and go to bed. Not a bad way to spend a birthday; there are certainly worse. Last year, I had to work 12 hours at E-Z Mart, while my boss yelled at me about how I wasn't pulling my own weight, and was more of a burden than a help.
After that, it really doesn't matter what I do; it can only go up from there.
This weekend was a bit rough; I was riding a pretty high crest of creativity and productivity over the week only to find out that my job is in serious jeopardy on Friday. In fact, it's probable that my position of Internet sales guy will be done away with; the only uncertainty is whether or not they'll keep me on at the bookstore doing something else. Honestly, I wouldn't mind doing other things...I really like working here, and being let go would be a severe blow to my morale. The worst part, I think, is there's nothing I can do about it either way but sit and wait, and make sure I have another job waiting in the wings in case the worst-case scenario appears. It's always something. C'est la vie.
Had roommate issues this weekend, too, but it's nothing like what there was before. All three of us probably could be doing a lot better at co-existing with each other, but I don't want to go into details about it all just yet; a lot of what's going on is no business of mine to divulge to the world.
I feel like I'm floating socially; it's this...attitude that I have had for as long as I can remember, even back during elementary school. I can't describe it very well...only as this melancholy place where I retreat into my dreams and fantasies, and work at expressing them any way I can. As a writer, it's a good place to be; I only wish light depression and melancholy weren't associated with it so strongly.
I know, I know, I've said this countless times, but I don't know if people are ever interested in what I do. People *say* they are, but what they say and what they *do* sends so many mixed signals, and it's very hard to read. So, I don't tell anyone about my projects, and feel bummed that no one pays attention to them. It's a conundrum I perpetuate, but also try to destroy; I'll send someone to something I'm keenly interested in, and I can see their eyes glaze over. There's only the cursory 'that's nice' and a polite "Good job." before the conversations turn to their interests again.
Blah, I always get like this during birthdays.
Anyway, being alone doesn't necessarily mean being lonely. I'm comfortable with being by myself, but the longer I go without people to talk to, the...harder it is for me to really open up when I need to. Just another thing I need to work on, I suppose.
I think I'll do a lot more writing today. Not much to do at work today, anyway.
Tomorrow, at 2:16 a.m. central daylight time, I will officially be 22 years old. I'm not quite sure how I feel about this...there are all kinds of angles that come up, and they're all fighting for dominance inside me.
Part of me (most likely the Leo aspect) wants everyone to just spend that one day worshipping my existence, giving me presents, patting me on the back, and saying nice things about me while drinking shots of whiskey. This is the part I would like to get rid of; not only do I know it won't happen, but if it ever actually happened, I'd be more disgusted with myself for wanting to be socially masturbated like that. The fantasy seems nice yes, but the reality of it would just make me feel...dirty.
Another part of me is just...glad I've gotten to this point. Looking back on the past 22 years of my life that I can remember, and knowing all that I've been through, being where I am is...well, it's a pretty good place for me, all things considered. I still have such a long way to go, so much more to experience...but I have quite a bit of faith that it's only a matter of time before I do it. It just feels...good, looking back on the progress that I've made.
Yet another part of me wants to take tomorrow and use it as a springboard to start something new. I'll probably do a ritual of some sort, just whatever feels right...and maybe expand my consciousness a bit with the use of certain household products. I *do* have a cough, after all.
What'll probably end up happening is I'll work late, come home, run my Mutants Down Under game, drink a little bit, watch a movie or two, and go to bed. Not a bad way to spend a birthday; there are certainly worse. Last year, I had to work 12 hours at E-Z Mart, while my boss yelled at me about how I wasn't pulling my own weight, and was more of a burden than a help.
After that, it really doesn't matter what I do; it can only go up from there.
This weekend was a bit rough; I was riding a pretty high crest of creativity and productivity over the week only to find out that my job is in serious jeopardy on Friday. In fact, it's probable that my position of Internet sales guy will be done away with; the only uncertainty is whether or not they'll keep me on at the bookstore doing something else. Honestly, I wouldn't mind doing other things...I really like working here, and being let go would be a severe blow to my morale. The worst part, I think, is there's nothing I can do about it either way but sit and wait, and make sure I have another job waiting in the wings in case the worst-case scenario appears. It's always something. C'est la vie.
Had roommate issues this weekend, too, but it's nothing like what there was before. All three of us probably could be doing a lot better at co-existing with each other, but I don't want to go into details about it all just yet; a lot of what's going on is no business of mine to divulge to the world.
I feel like I'm floating socially; it's this...attitude that I have had for as long as I can remember, even back during elementary school. I can't describe it very well...only as this melancholy place where I retreat into my dreams and fantasies, and work at expressing them any way I can. As a writer, it's a good place to be; I only wish light depression and melancholy weren't associated with it so strongly.
I know, I know, I've said this countless times, but I don't know if people are ever interested in what I do. People *say* they are, but what they say and what they *do* sends so many mixed signals, and it's very hard to read. So, I don't tell anyone about my projects, and feel bummed that no one pays attention to them. It's a conundrum I perpetuate, but also try to destroy; I'll send someone to something I'm keenly interested in, and I can see their eyes glaze over. There's only the cursory 'that's nice' and a polite "Good job." before the conversations turn to their interests again.
Blah, I always get like this during birthdays.
Anyway, being alone doesn't necessarily mean being lonely. I'm comfortable with being by myself, but the longer I go without people to talk to, the...harder it is for me to really open up when I need to. Just another thing I need to work on, I suppose.
I think I'll do a lot more writing today. Not much to do at work today, anyway.
