It's long past my bedtime on a very long night. Maybe it was the weather. Dreary overcast skies foretold all day of snow. I sat sipping tea on my sofa longing for things I don't have, and missing people I never see. Before you feel sorry for me, this was more constructive than your typical hollow sadness. This was more like a wistful memorial.
My therapist tells me that a piece of me has died.
Today, I spent the crawling hours putting her to rest.
I have gone through many changes, lately. I've quit my job, started some new ventures, and am about to start a new internship next week. I am also dealing with a recent break-up.
After the break-up, I bought an obscenely expensive ridiculously large desktop computer to fill the void. (Ladies and gentlemen, I am now the proud (single) owner of a brand new iMac.) I was reluctantly excited. I've been pseudo-happily screwing around with it all week. Instead of doing my homework, I've been tinkering with photos, experimenting with documents, and just generally fucking around. But today I was just too tired. I guess my exhausted brain just needed a break from all the change.
I went to my room where I've fired up my ancient laptop, which is graciously receiving its wireless internet signal from my iMac's built-in wireless router. Something about having this thing on again makes me feel like maybe sleep is possible; like maybe not everything has changed.
Thank God for that.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Doom
I find it poetic that I'm recovering just as Pittsburgh's infamous winter weather has given way to spring-like temperatures. I've been sick with something like the flu. Normal flus are either supremely bad or just a tad icky. This flu was something heinously in-between.
I wasn't completely incapacitated. I was just sick enough that it was impossible to finish anything. I couldn't even load my damned dishwasher. I tried drawing. I tried studying. I even tried sleeping. Unfortunately, I was just able-bodied enough that sleep was impossible. I wanted to do stuff, but I didn't have the energy for anything more complex than crappy cooking shows.
If I never see another episode of "Chopped", I'll die a happy woman.
Of course, I knew the world would not stop just because I was sick. I had errands to run. I struggled with the simplest stuff. Walking 5 minutes to a mailbox was enough to send me spiraling into another hour-long coughing fit after which I was forced hide under my blankets from an invisible cold front that only I could feel.
Needless to say, I completed only the life-or-death tasks on my to-do list.
This morning felt worse than any other. I was convinced I'd contracted Ebola. Not only would I miss all the cool stuff happening this weekend, but I'd have to die a lonely miserable death alone in my apartment. My rotting corpse would infect my poor unsuspecting neighbors. The first Ebola outbreak in Pittsburgh's history had started with me. This would be my legacy. God, this could even start a pandemic.
Of course, by noon, I was fine. By 2:30 in the afternoon, I was able to take myself out for a cup of coffee. Turns out, coffee is some sort of miracle cure. After my first cup of coffee in three days, I was ready to conquer the universe. I traipsed up and down the street in jeans and a suit jacket (because it was clean) feeling as big n' sassy as Queen Latifah. I came home and started cleaning.
You wouldn't have believed the state of my house. My garbage and recycling were both overflowing. Dirty clothes had crept into the furthest reaches of my tiny house. There was trash everywhere: ooze-trapping tissues, open DayQuil packages, spoons covered in gluey black NyQuil, and open pill bottles. My dishes were growing eyes. You would have thought you'd walked into the squalid den of a Vicks addict.
Even though I was still not at 100%, I was so happy to be free that I even mopped the kitchen floor. That's right, mom. I mop. Never in my life has a single load of laundry made me feel like such a super hero. And all just in time to enjoy the nice weather!
I don't know if you've ever had the feeling that you just clambered up from beneath 647 pounds of dirt and garbage to emerge into a bright happy sunlight. If you haven't, I highly recommend the flu. I'll even give you some dirty blankets to help you out.
I wasn't completely incapacitated. I was just sick enough that it was impossible to finish anything. I couldn't even load my damned dishwasher. I tried drawing. I tried studying. I even tried sleeping. Unfortunately, I was just able-bodied enough that sleep was impossible. I wanted to do stuff, but I didn't have the energy for anything more complex than crappy cooking shows.
If I never see another episode of "Chopped", I'll die a happy woman.
Of course, I knew the world would not stop just because I was sick. I had errands to run. I struggled with the simplest stuff. Walking 5 minutes to a mailbox was enough to send me spiraling into another hour-long coughing fit after which I was forced hide under my blankets from an invisible cold front that only I could feel.
Needless to say, I completed only the life-or-death tasks on my to-do list.
This morning felt worse than any other. I was convinced I'd contracted Ebola. Not only would I miss all the cool stuff happening this weekend, but I'd have to die a lonely miserable death alone in my apartment. My rotting corpse would infect my poor unsuspecting neighbors. The first Ebola outbreak in Pittsburgh's history had started with me. This would be my legacy. God, this could even start a pandemic.
Of course, by noon, I was fine. By 2:30 in the afternoon, I was able to take myself out for a cup of coffee. Turns out, coffee is some sort of miracle cure. After my first cup of coffee in three days, I was ready to conquer the universe. I traipsed up and down the street in jeans and a suit jacket (because it was clean) feeling as big n' sassy as Queen Latifah. I came home and started cleaning.
You wouldn't have believed the state of my house. My garbage and recycling were both overflowing. Dirty clothes had crept into the furthest reaches of my tiny house. There was trash everywhere: ooze-trapping tissues, open DayQuil packages, spoons covered in gluey black NyQuil, and open pill bottles. My dishes were growing eyes. You would have thought you'd walked into the squalid den of a Vicks addict.
Even though I was still not at 100%, I was so happy to be free that I even mopped the kitchen floor. That's right, mom. I mop. Never in my life has a single load of laundry made me feel like such a super hero. And all just in time to enjoy the nice weather!
I don't know if you've ever had the feeling that you just clambered up from beneath 647 pounds of dirt and garbage to emerge into a bright happy sunlight. If you haven't, I highly recommend the flu. I'll even give you some dirty blankets to help you out.
Monday, February 14, 2011
My New Job
I poured my heart and soul into a job for three years, only to be stifled by crappy leadership who wouldn't know innovation it it kicked them right in the ass. In the meantime, I gave up my volunteer work and my creative ventures to focus on my job. I started to feel that I had lost something that used to be important to me. So, I quit.
My new job: Me. That's right. I am my new job.
I am on a journey to find where passion and practicality meet. I don't know if I'm going to figure it out, but I would rather die than stop trying.
I'm going to keep writing about it for all of those out there who wish they could do the same. I'm not going to say it's easy. I am just going to say that the universe has a hell-of-a-lot more to offer than just a paycheck. It's sad to note that so many friends tell me they feel exactly the same way. I can't help but feel that a whole generation of innovators are going unheard. That pisses me off. Grr.
That's all, for now.
My new job: Me. That's right. I am my new job.
I am on a journey to find where passion and practicality meet. I don't know if I'm going to figure it out, but I would rather die than stop trying.
I'm going to keep writing about it for all of those out there who wish they could do the same. I'm not going to say it's easy. I am just going to say that the universe has a hell-of-a-lot more to offer than just a paycheck. It's sad to note that so many friends tell me they feel exactly the same way. I can't help but feel that a whole generation of innovators are going unheard. That pisses me off. Grr.
That's all, for now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)