Thursday, September 23, 2010

Our time at the edge.

"Jules, y'know, honey... this isn't real. You know what it is? It's St. Elmo's Fire. Electric flashes of light that appear in dark skies out of nowhere. Sailors would guide entire journeys by it, but the joke was on them... there was no fire. There wasn't even a St. Elmo. They made it up. They made it up because they thought they needed it to keep them going when times got tough... We're all going through this. It's our time at the edge."


Let's chalk up another life lesson driven home by a brat pack movie. What've I learned today? At this age, everyone is going through hell. Early twenties is prime suffering time. Except for the rare cases of people who find stability young or those who are blissfuly oblivious, most of us are obsessed with one or all of the following: finding love, making enough money to live comfortably, and/or finding a job that will make the first two obsessions less difficult to come by. And as close as I sometimes feel I am to giving up and retreating to my bedroom until I'm 25, it's comforting to know that 80% of other people in my age group are considering hibernation as a tempting alternative, as well. But we keep on. At least, I know I will. And I'll try to keep in mind that I'm not the only one who's love sick, or broke, or a nervous wreck. This bandwagon is pretty damn full. So we might as well make the best of it.

Monday, September 13, 2010

and everything you're chasin', it seems to leave you empty.

I felt like running today. Not in terms of physical activity, but in terms of getting the hell out of this area and never looking back. How am I in this place again? I need to take the power back. I need to stop letting people get under my skin so deeply that I analyze every single move they make for some indication of what I should do next. I'm tired of letting someone have control over my emotions. There are times when I feel comfortable being me... then there are other times when I feel aggressively mediocre in every way possible... And the kicker here? Anytime I feel bad about myself, it is directly related to how that guy is treating me that day. Before that guy, it was the other one. Given that this one is a million times better than the former, but still: What is that? I am who I am. I may not be perfect, but I'm the only me there is. How can I expect someone else to see my worth and treat me accordingly if, half the time,I can't even see how valuable I am? I know one thing: I deserve better than the shit I've been through when it comes to the people in my life who have a penis. It's soul-searching time, folks.

The main idea here is: Time to learn to love myself unconditionally, because I'm the only me I've got. And the more I think about it, the more satisfied I am with that.