are you a mother fucker?

Music often moves me to tears, as do books, movies, memories, all of it. I am a sentimental bitch. I am (and I recognize this is not something to be entirely proud of) eternally reaching out toward’s Gatsby’s green light, coveting moments that did not exist, except in my own sentimentality. I have always been sensitive, always bearing the burden of emotions both micro and macro. It is something I have come to accept as my cross to bear – what is often perceived as weakness is actually a huge strength called empathy, and the desire to make a change. I truly believe the more we stand up, the less we can get knocked down. Little people can make a big difference, there is strength in numbers, and things can change.

Kesha’s strength in what has had to have been the hardest moments in her own life, moments that seemed like they would never end, moments of despair that no doubt have inspired in her a dark alleyway of thoughts – she has come through, still fighting, only harder. She has come through and turned darkness into the most beautiful light of color, a Rainbow.

Buffy Summers once said, “I may be dead, but I’m still pretty,” after rising back from the grave to  defeat those who called themselves the victors prematurely. Kesha is her own slayer, telling the world it ain’t over… and I am so proud.

losing my shit :)

So recently there was a death in my life… the death of my laptop, with which i have had a love/hate relationship with over the years. My laptop was a mac, my second mac to be exact. I never truly needed a mac. I basically read, and write, and browse the internet on it.

When I went away to school (you’ll read about that in my memoirs) it was suggested that students get a Mac (which the software needed for my classes wasn’t even compatible with but I guess SUNY had a deal with Apple. Yay capitalism). After my first mac crapped out and I sold it to amazon, I was so used to mac that I got a second one, which put me in a lot of extra debt for no reason. It was just convenient that the mac and my iphone and my ipod synced up. I used this mac to get through my Bachelor’s, including writing my senior thesis on Sylvia Plath. But now it is completely dead. In the garbage. Death by coffee fatality.

Now I am using my boyfriend’s old windows laptop. But because of the sudden death of said mac, i never got to rescue any files from it. I now use google docs and therefore am able to always access my shit. But previously, I was an idiot and didn’t back up. Also my ipod is mac formatted so now i cannot add any music to it. It’s a classic so it’s not fancy with wifi or anything.

Anyways.

you get so sick sometimes

you get so sick sometimes, it all comes crawling back. the angst, the pain. you lie to even yourself. i am going to read, going to write, going to smile. but you look in the mirror and your hair is driving you crazy and you want to slap your own cheeks, because to bruise yourself would show that you are alive. crying in a grocery parking lot because you want to slice your skin open over a day gone rotten, too many little things adding up until the scale tipped and the tears fell and you lost your grip on reality. real tea, spilled.

individually, none of your circumstances are so dire. but added up one by one over twenty seven years, twenty seven years of pain and anguish and you feel two thousand years old. is it over yet? if i woke up in hell tomorrow, the world having ended in my sleep, i would not be surprised.

you feel guilty, but then you remember that love and hate are twins, not opposites. and your motto is: keep moving forward. it’s all you can do.

Saying Goodbye

I’m not good with goodbyes. In fact, I avoid them at all costs. I always run away right before the end. This is going to sound dramatic. But Pretty Little Liars changed my life. When I first saw the books in my local Target, I avoided them, The premise seemed interesting but in the moment I was turned off by the covers with the dolls (which I now have grown to love). I couldn’t tell who they were meant for. But when I was nineteen, life got derailed a little bit. I came home from college after being severely bullied to the point of suicidal thoughts. My parents were divorcing, I quit my job but it felt like I lost it, and I was lonely and bitter and tired. I bought the first book, even though I was trying to stretch my money. The books was impossible to put down. The narration was impeccable, fast paced, hooking. The characters were like celebrities. They truly came alive on the page. I went back to the store and bought the rest of the available books in the series. After that , I preordered every book as they came out.

My grandmother was also my savior at that time (and always). I stayed with her for days and weeks, and at night I would turn in early to read my beloved books. Not since Harry Potter had I been so enthralled with a series. I am a lover of all books, not a chooser of favorites. When I found out PLL was going to be a show I was worried. How would they manage to convey these characters I loved so much, and the plot I held so dear? I tuned into the pilot and I haven’t tuned out since.

The show has been equally paradise and hell for me. One thing they certainly did get right was keeping the essence of the characters while adapting and growing them for the show. The TV plots weaved between from-the-book and brand new, the twists and turns were shocking. Could they do this on ABC Family? Could they do that?

Characters lived longer on the show than in the books. New characters were introduced. It all felt canon. It all felt right.

And then there were the disappointments. Sometimes the show dangled too many questions and gave no answers. The mystery, having been extended over more than 100 episodes, was getting more tangled and harder to figure out. Plot holes were around every corner. Yet so many of us stuck with it.

I discovered the tumblr community. The theories, the youtube videos. I had discussions with friends, taking notes as I watched each episode for future talking points.

2 weeks from today it is all over. There are 3 hours left, and one special. I am ready. I am not ready. I am ready to cry. In fact, I cried twice this morning. I’m an emotional gal. I cannot wait for the end. But mostly I am grateful for netflix and hulu – as long as they host the show, I can rewatch it, over and over. To comfort me when I’m in pain,

the autobiography project

It might seem silly when I tell you to “write your autobiography.” You’re not famous, you don’t feel worthy, you don’t think anyone would care, or just plain simply, you don’t think you need to or even want to for yourself. But you should! One day your memories won’t be so sharp. They’re already starting to fade. As it is, we make up so much of our memories anyway. It’s better to get the ones you remember out now rather than keep them inside until they shape-shift, warp, and disappear.

I keep a diary, but I’m not always “good” at it. It’s not organized. It’s not about my day or even about significant life events. There are redundant entries and lists and notes about lectures or events on reading and writing. Just a place really for me to dump my thoughts. But a few years back, when I had some free time on my hands after college, I decided to write it all out, chronologically, by age/grade, starting with birth.  I want to remember my life, both the agony and the ecstasy.  What started out as a few bullet points per year now has all of my memories racing at me at once. i can barely write down the outline before the next bullet is hitting, and as i write each sentence from the bullet point, things get clearer and clearer, until i am facing the past and moving forward wth my future at the same time. handwriting it is making it more personal, and now it will be in my diary forever. I also now have the opportunity to see patterns, and learn from the past, as well as see the direction I am heading in the future.

I never want anyone to read my diaries. They showcase the good, the bad, and especially the ugly. They are all mine, but they are sacred to me, no matter how messy or muted my life is, I have a place to explore it, and I want to put it to good use. In addition, I freewrite, use journal prompts… etc. I spend hours exploring the internet looking at diaries and bullet journals and art journals and planners, and I will probably never share more than a page or two once every few years of mine. But that’s okay. I like my journal the way she is. Unpredictable, like me.

something i wrote a year ago today…

Being yourself is one of the most courageous ways to live. If you think it’s hard being yourself and there is no way you can do it, think about how much pressure you put on yourself every time you pretend to be something you’re not.

On the TVLand show Younger, Liza is a forty year old woman pretending to be twenty six so she can have her dream job, her dream boyfriend, and a “second chance” at life. Yet even though she now has the job, the man, and the life she dreamed of, she feels like a fraud. Not only does she have to lie every day to the outside world, but now she has friends and a lover she can only be so real with.

It is so hard to feel like a fraud. To feel like you are nothing, you’re ugly, you’re stupid, you’re just pretending to be something you’re not. For so many of us, myself included a lot of the time, looking in the mirror is a chore. Depression, anxiety, and Impostor Syndrome are real things. You don’t feel connected to yourself or the world around you. And even if you remember that the times you’ve been the happiest were the times you let go, accepted yourself, and lived harmoniously, you just can’t shake off the insecurities.

I think the first step is opening your eyes to realizing that everyone can be captured by these feelings and thoughts even if just for a moment. Even the most confident, gorgeous person in the world, someone who literally glows from within, can wake up and feel ugly sometimes. It’s so easy to throw yourself under the bus. It’s like when you see the same friend every day, and maybe their quirks become irksome – you inhabit your own body and mind 24/7 and you can irk yourself. But it’s important to remember:

No one else can ever be you. You are loved. You have something to offer this world. You can do this. You are beautiful, and smart, and kind, and most importantly, you are unique. A fingerprint that cannot be replicated.

Don’t let yourself get too down.

journaling/planning crisis

I just put into words for myself why I vacillate between paper and digital with planning and journaling etc. To break it down for you, I spent most of my school years (grades 6-senior year of undergrad) with a paper planner. I then had a year off from school, and once I started my first semester of grad school, I was into OneNote. But even as someone who uses ON, I don’t even use it to the best of its capabilities (I’ve seen some amazing spreads on tumblr!). I use a standard “notebook” and keep my to-do list in it, about a week or two at a time, and erase as I go. It mostly works for me but here are my issues:

  • I wish I could keep the old lists, but that involves moving it over into another page or notebook, and using up the space (I don’t pay to use this program so I have limited space). [Also this isn’t so important as my “lists” don’t always consist of anything important – just menial tasks for that day].
  • I tried to keep a paper planner where I would write down important things that got erased, but I fall off the wagon with this a lot.
  • When using only a paper planner, I dislike that I cannot easily “move things around.” My friend suggested using a pencil, but it doesn’t feel fancy enough, and I’ll never go back and rewrite with a pen if I want it to be more permanent.

 

These are very first-world issues and very specific issues to me. Usually by the time I write about a problem publicly, I have already went through every possible solution. This digital/paper problem bleeds into my journaling life too.

I like to journal, but the thoughts roll out fast. I type them so that I can get it all out, but then I wish it was written in my notebook. I often find myself transcribing into my notebook whatever I wrote in my computer document. This works well unless I have written a large amount of typed pages, or if i begin to self-edit as I copy into my journal.

My family got our first computer when I was six, in 1996, and my computer time was very limited until college. I was used to writing everything by hand be it a journal entry, a short story or poem, or homework (unless it was mandatory to be typed). I am a millenial and I love my technology. I don’t see anything wrong with it. I also adore planners, art and written journaling, bujos, the works. I don’t want to give up my love for either digital or paper but my time is not unlimited. I think we make time for things we love, and I definitely do make time for these things, but perhaps I could make more. Especially for the journaling and art journaling.

Tell me how or why you journal or plan the way you do.