Fear of death is very silly to me. I am reassured that death is something that all things before me and all things after me will go through. When it comes, I will know what it is. I just hope for a chance to say my goodbyes.
I am more scared of going before my time, without having lived a full and meaningful life.
My guy friend told me that the reason I might be considered more of a "bro" and not "girlfriend material" is because I am not feminine enough.
To this I scoffed I am feminine. To wit I shall post at a later date the things I believe make me feel like a woman. But I do have a rather manly way of dressing. I have always been a tomboy. I hated being in dresses when I was younger and as soon as I could start dressing myself, I would rather die than wear a dress or skirt. Dresses and skirts get in the way of running, climbing and playing. You had to be careful in dresses. Later you realise that not all dresses have itchy lace and pink so every now and then I will wear a skirt. My one rule is that skirts must have pockets. I don't get why girl blazers and shirts can't have breast pockets. Yes we have breasts but we still have to carry things and since girl pants are notoriously tight with tiny pockets, we have to lug around heavy purses.
I feel more comfortable and free in jeans, a button down and a pair of converses. I wear perfume, lipstick and have beautiful lingerie. Being a person means you have both masculine and feminine qualities.
There is also the notion that I don't play into the weak female persona. I have my vulnerable moments but for the most part I stand for my beliefs and I respectfully argue for them. Now that I am older I am more confident in myself and who I am. I won't let someone bully me and shut down my opinions and I have too much pride in myself to be taken advantage of. It is because I am human that I am kind and sympathize with others. It is because I believe in intelligence that I cringe when girls play dumb.
The first time I swore at a person was last month. I was wearing my nicknamed dominatrix boots (aka these Camilla Skovgaard boots) and waiting for the bus. Some dickhead walks over and asks if I want to hang out and I tell him no I am not interested go away. And then he says "Wanna have sex?" "Go fuck yourself" was more than the appropriate response and I gave him my death glare until he walked away. I think a punch would have been pretty app too.
Wise people say dress for yourself and not anyone else. For both men and women, it is as though you must follow a guideline in order to be considered feminine or masculine when in reality it is a little of both. But with women, it is majorly fucked up to think if I am wearing 6 inch leather boots it means I am looking for sex. I wear those boots because I feel strong in them and woman ought to wear whatever makes them feel strong without worrying about getting raped.
"Our lives disconnect and reconnect, we move on, and later we may again touch one another, again bounce away. This is the felt shape of a human life, neither simply linear nor wholly disjunctive nor endlessly bifurcating, but rather this bouncey-castle sequence of bumpings-into and tumblings-apart."
"Introverts, in contrast, may have strong social skills and enjoy parties and business meetings, but after a while wish they were home in their pajamas. They prefer to devote their social energies to close friends, colleagues, and family. They listen more than they talk, think before they speak, and often feel as if they express themselves better in writing than in conversation. They tend to dislike conflict. Many have a horror of small talk, but enjoy deep discussions."
"From the Buddhist point of view, we human beings live in a very peculiar fashion. We view impermanent things as permanent, though everything is changing all around us. The process of change is constant and eternal. As you read these words, your body is aging. But you pay no attention to that. The book in your hand is decaying. The print is fading and the pages are becoming brittle. The walls around you are aging. The molecules within those walls are vibrating at an enormous rate, and everything is shifting, going to pieces and dissolving slowly. You pay no attention to that, either. Then one day you look around you. Your body is wrinkled and squeaky and you hurt. The book is a yellowed, useless lump; the building is caving in. So you pine for lost youth and you cry when the possessions are gone. Where does this pain come from? It comes from your own inattention. You failed to look closely at life. You failed to observe the constantly shifting flow of the world as it went by. You set up a collection of mental constructions, ‘me’, ‘the book’, ‘the building’, and you assumed that they would endure forever. They never do. But you can tune into the constantly ongoing change. You can learn to perceive your life as an ever-flowing movement, a thing of great beauty like a dance or symphony. You can learn to take joy in the perpetual passing away of all phenomena."
I have no control over my emotions. I will be angry for two minutes and then sad again. I will be happy for half an hour and then emotional again.
So far all I've done is lay on my bed and watch episodes of Chopped.
I'm just waiting for it to pass.
I haven't felt "fine" in over 3 years. This relapse makes me feel as though I haven't made any progress at all.
I'm not sure why I'm being so candid about my depression but I suppose if someone else who has depression reads this, we can feel less alone. I have only told a few people. Unfortunately in the last 3 weeks most of these persons have disappointed me.
I have severe trust issues I think. Nobody is infallible. I thought I chose friends carefully but turns out not really.
But really my behaviour is pathetic. Reading about Daul Kim. Listening to MCR. It is as though I'm imitating myself from 2007. Next I'll be wearing studs and guitar earrings.
I just wish...someone around me could understand what it really means to be depressed.
You know the internet is where people express themselves. But everyone complains. So when there is a serious complaint, a serious plea for help, for sympathy, it goes unnoticed. Most people just dismiss it as a plea for attention. We aren't heartless, it's just so many have grown immune and de-sensitized. I'm de-sensitized from reading things like this being told over and over again.
Just so much pain.
It's pretty bad this relapse though. Tumblr and Colbert aren't helping and I always thought they would remind me this world is capable of greatness. Nope. Still numb.
Last week was absolute insanity. There will never be another like that. Last Sunday night and this Sunday night were polar opposite.
I feel so lucky that I met such a wonderful, awesome guy.
He makes what pain and anger I felt meaningless. He understands my humour and has such beautiful intelligent eyes.
What broken heart? Why would I ever think of killing myself? What disappointment with those I trust most?
It is the feelings that I have now that has made people continue on with their lives for centuries.
Despite how cheesy and clichéd it is (and aren't all things that are true clichéd and cheesy?)
love is what makes it worthwhile.
I hope everyone can find someone that makes them feel this way. There is also the deep love from my friends that I value so much. Despite being very outgoing, I am an introvert and have difficulties making new friends. The ones I do have mean the world to me. Yes, three of them let me down last week. But there was one who made all the difference.
And now I have a person who makes me smile deliriously. I still think this is too good to be true. Did life just seriously hand me a chocolate cake? I may be young but I've always thought of love to be like the ending of Drive.
"Loneliness is the human condition. Cultivate it. The way it tunnels into you allows your soul room to grow. Never expect to outgrow loneliness. Never hope to find people who will understand you, someone to fill that space. An intelligent, sensitive person is the exception, the very great exception. If you expect to find people who will understand you, you will grow murderous with disappointment. The best you'll ever do is to understand yourself, know what it is that you want, and not let the cattle stand in your way."
Things are going fairly well in that I am leaving the house and got myself a part time job. My room is still a mess. I haven't actually done any school work and I berate myself for being such a lazy person. Ah yes laziness.
If I weren't so lazy I would exercise.
I believe the biggest reason why I got depressed was because I stopped running in my last year of high school. Up until that point I was on the cross country and track and field team. Mind you I wasn't a very good runner, but I did it. I lacked the discipline to actually train. And now I am still lacking the discipline to run or do any sort of sport.
I make up excuses. Right now the excuse is "It's too cold outside." Fair enough, I could however go to a gym. Then the excuse is "I'm self-conscious and I have no idea how to weight lift."
I am not terribly self-conscious of my body. I've accepted it's simply the way I am. However I am terribly self-conscious of my legs. I find them disproportional to the rest of my body making me look chunkier than I am. And no matter how much I exercised, they never became any leaner. If I am not too careful, I'll fall into the trap of cankles.
I'm sick of the cold weather and wish for warmer weather. Warmer weather meaning dresses. Oh wait, no I don't like dresses because that means exposing my legs.
But this cold in mid March makes me eat so horribly. I have been living off of junk food and if I weren't so lazy I would actually go try to learn how to feed myself.
And if I weren't so lazy I would go learn how to do something.....like coding or whatnot. I'm falling into a pattern of going on tumblr and it's not giving me any joy actually. It's just something to do. Idling by.
Why don't I simply do the things that I know will make me feel better?
It isn't rocket science. It isn't that difficult. Get out of bed. Eat. See people. Talk to people. Exercise. Write. Read.
If you want to do something with your life, well ok just go ahead and do something.
Ugh it's too much work and I don't even know where to start. I don't know how to do anything and it'll never work. I'll be judged. I can't do it. I can't do it alone. I don't know anybody. It will be a complete utter disaster and no one will care about it and of course the point of doing everything is to get attention and praise from other people. Yeah I need to get the most followers and the most views. And by doing that I have to promote myself and become a phony and pander like hell. Good job you're really following all the ideals you hold so dearly.
Good job you stopped yourself from even starting. You're so lazy you'll never accomplish anything.
If you weren't so lazy you probably wouldn't have dragged out this depression for so long. God why do you give up so easily. You make it like a snap decision. Why do you have no commitment and diligence? You're so freakin lazy. You're a phony. You want to cruise by and fool everyone into thinking you're smart but really you did the least amount of work and pretended you worked really hard and you deserve this mark. If there's an easy way you will manipulate people into getting it. And then feel guilty afterwards because oh, you didn't live up to your morals and ideals.
Why are you such a snob and so picky about everything? Unless there's a guaranteed 100% success you don't think it's worth doing. Wow you're arrogant. You think you deserve nothing but the best. You look down on other people.
You know what fashion has done to you? It's made you into a total snob and wanting nothing but the most expensive and best stuff out there. You want to be the best. The one with the best clothes, the best outfits, the best the best the best.
You can't be the best. You're just a nobody, part of the crowd. You are not particularly smarter than anyone else. You don't create anything. You don't contribute. You just stay at home and observe.
You like to think you're better than everyone else, that you're not oh ONE OF THEM, the common folk, the phillistines but in reality you are not that special. The only thing that does make you different is that you're a complete utter failure and have depression so la dee da that makes you special. Why aren't you so proud of that?
Oh it's special because people can pity you and you can manipulate them with their pity and use them to just weedle out more time. But you don't do anything.
After sleeping for 3 days it’s time for a 30 hour hypomanic frenzy. So many things to do so many things to do so much energy must do things too many ideas so many things to catch up lalalallala productivity productivity efficiency efficienckjhlkjslkd;jades;
I'm super excited to be going to New York for one week. I wish I was staying longer but I'm happy that I get to go at all. Unfortunately I'll be going during perhaps the hottest week in New York and I'm not sure how I'll be able to last taking the subway and walking along the hot pavement. Do people carry around tissues and mop themselves once they get out of the heat?
My gameplan is to spend most of my time in the museums. I am not an art afficionado nor do I study art history but walking around museums is a luxury that I do not get to enjoy often. Also, when you are within the proximity of museums that house the greatest artworks created, how do you not jump on the chance?
I will of course be going to the Alexander McQueen Savage Beauty exhibition at the MET (which is ending not soon after my trip!)
I think I'm going to try and do more writing on this blog. For one, my spelling is atrocious in comparison to my grade 7 self or I'm just lazy now because I can use google whenever I don't know how to spell something.
I also need to work on articulating my ideas. There is nothing wrong with free conscious writing but it's better if people are actually able to follow your train of thoughts. Editing is necessary.
Blogs have the option of comments meaning there is the possibility of a dialogue and I'm hoping to incite a discussion here. I'm wrapped up in my own head too much and that needs to change.
I need an outlet for my opinionated self and I'm going to work on producing at least one post a week here. My tumblr is so self-indulgent and calming that it makes me neglect this blog.
I will sorely miss you. To paraphrase Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert, it's as though he died way before hitting old age like the other great inventors and we didn't get to milk him for everything he had. His work was not done yet. He was perhaps the greatest salesman of all time and no one could make you lust for a product like he did. Turns out competence is not common. Last American Who Knew What The Fuck He Was Doing
I still use my iPod nano 2nd generation and I never got into the craze of owning the latest Apple gadget because they can withstand my constant abuse. I put the nano through the wash once and flipped out thinking it was dead. I let it dry for a few days and it worked fine.
How perfectly morbid and beautiful. I must also commend this because it's Canadian! But I wouldn't want to use this soap; it would be for display purposes and I would actually be upset if someone did use it to wash their hands.
On the subject of Canadians, I was happy to see Naomi Klein on Up with Chris Hayes. I'm so happy msnbc doesn't put a region block so I can enjoy his show online. I am most certainly not a morning person and on the weekends, even less so. And thank god I found out about him. Colbert and Stewart are off this week!
It has begun. There is less time with the sun and the weather is getting colder. I'm considering burning my Tocca Stella candle but it just looks so pretty. I really like that all Tocca candles come with their own beautiful matchbook and of course I don't want to use it.
I think this is a relatively good start on my goal to blogging more often and with more writing. It's on the more frivolous side but it's a start. I've already edited it a few times because I have found grammatical and syntax errors. I would appreciate if you find a mistake to let me know about it. I think part of my reluctance (or lack of wanting) to be more pro-active on my blog is because I'm gun shy of putting myself out on the internet. It's a wonderful but scary place, full of judgement.
People can hide behind their screens but I too can just as easily hide behind mine.
"Death is always on the way, but the fact that you don’t know when it will arrive seems to take away from the finiteness of life. It’s that terrible precision that we hate so much. But because we don’t know, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that’s so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless."