I nearly deleted my blog this week and everything I have ever written as I was like “fuck me, that’s actually mega embarrassing.” But then I remembered: everyone is so wrapped up in their own shit anyway that it does.not.matter even 1%, and that expressing who I am breathes life into me - and feeling alive, however you can, is always, always worth it (sans crimes etc). As a full life is THE only life to live, yes? Also fuck, it’s amazing how many levels of basic one can make their way through in one year…(yolo - still some to go). ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Looking back, I’m like woah who posted that, I don’t even think that at all now. But mostly, looking back I feel so humbled and grateful, for everything I experienced this year. It has been so, so full. Sometimes I was randomly covered in tingles and tears simply from just being blissed out from being alive, and other times, I felt more grimey meaninglessness than I ever thought possible*. I choose the edges, the thrills, the challenges, the uncertainty - as I simply cannot live another way.
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Currently I have one foot in The Matrix (need some cold hard cash yo, even though I do not feel like I am alive while I am in a cubical), and one foot in Living (dreams, adventures, challenges, travels) - so hopefully I can save some cash before I float away again once more…
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“Back in The Matrix yo” up now - because I like to write, and no matter how un-literary it may be, it does.not.matter. No matter if no one ever reads anything I have to say, it does.not.matter. As I’ll always be following the things that set my soul on fire, because at the end of my life I want to say “I feel as though I have lived” - so I will do whatever that takes and face everything this entails, from the dull despair to the glittering euphoria.
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Bring it x
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(*There should be a Existential Crisis 101 course.. although I could quite possibly teach that now, I’ve had so many.)
I’m tethering on an edge
On one side is dreams - multicoloured, kaleidoscopic, glittering (Oz)
On the other is society, constructs, rules - monochromatic (Kansas)
I have a low tolerance for settling, and a high inclination for risk
This edge, it’s always a perception (dramatised by a romantic mind)
This year, the colours were overly bright, and the shadows were especially dim
This year, I feel I have lived more than I have ever lived before
Not because of the things I did
But how I allowed myself to completely feel
Simply because, I allowed myself to feel ... & now, what world do I return to, or adventure onto next? ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
No place feels like home,
Yet all places do. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
I feel disconnected from everyone, separated from them all. Yet, I feel closer to everyone as ever.
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I feel confused and overwhelmed, yet content and at peace. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
I feel like covering up what I want, for the ease and comfort of a socially-prescribed lifestyle (what would your script say and who wrote it?...). But more so I feel like rebelling for the very sake of not following the goddamn rules. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Everything is so multidimensional, yet everything is equally so striking simple. I feel repulsed by “spirituality”, and magnetised to cynicism. I feel everything, and I feel nothing, dependent on my perception of the moment. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
I feel like quitting as I’d rather live my life broke and inspired...
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I feel like life is so fucking short that it’s more insane to not do what you really want to do, despite the consequences, than to follow the comforts because of it’s “effortlessness”...although what takes more effort than doing what you’re told...
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Maybe I feel far too much, but I’d rather that, and experience the edges, than feel little at all. I’d rather the risks, than the regimen. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
{How are you this morning? lol ffs}
How do you feel? I examine this within myself every single day. Do you feel you are too {whatever it is you are}? I do. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Too serious. Too excitable. Too romantic. Too much of a dreamer. Too insecure. Too flittery (not glittery alas, as it’s not a word & I keep getting autocorrected). Too floaty. Too loving. Too emotional. Too horny. Too introverted. Too idealistic. Too curious. Too contrary. Too peculiar. Too lustful. Too prone to spillage. Too self obsessed ^ & my insta captions are far too long. But I have so much to say! How else is a talentless millennial to express themselves? ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
It’s not that I’m not confident in who I am, or appreciate all of the most positive traits, while I am aware of the pitfalls, it’s more a question of - who does this world allow us to be? Depending on whom I’m speaking, I’ll be too much or too little of something. Depending on what lifestyle I’m in, I’ll be too much or too little of many things. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
The more empowered in who I am and in my desires, the less I feel I fit. Identity is so fluid, how to squish ourselves into anything...? ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
“Don’t take life to seriously” is argued. I dispute. What is less serious than this fragility precious existence, that could slip through our fingertips at even given second? Yes, fun is #1 life priority, I’m still full of joy & love. But I’ll choose to be too serious about living, since it’s the only one I have. How can we not be? ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
I know only how to be me. As you know only how to be you. I rebel against socially constructed rules, as an authentic life for me encompasses that very trait. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
I desire nothing more than to taste the exquisite marvellous edges of existence. And that, I’ll never have “too much” of. & now I’m off to drink too much wine, probably. C’est la vie 💋
Cue: lazy hot sticky summery Saturday afternoon thoughts as I listen to sexy tunes by FKJ and resume my soul away with job applications (maybe I take jobs so I can feel liberated by quitting them?): ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
A lot can happen in three months, it seems. A whole life can be lived. A whole existence can be crafted. I’ve signed a three month contract, which I don’t think I can possibly live out, as it’s getting more and more difficult to pretend…to be anything but truthful.
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Where were you three months ago? I can barely remember. I’ve lived in three counties in that time. In 14 places/homes/accom. But it’s only three months, argues someone. Yes, it’s three.whole.months.of.precious.limited.time.we.have.in.this.one.life, I exclaim! ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Live For The Day vs Strategic Longer Term Gains. I’d be one of those children who eat all the marshmallows in the experiment straight away, rather than waiting longer for more. Impatient or eager? Foolish or passionate? Irresponsible or fiery? Mindless or spirited? ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Currently reading The Pleasures & Sorrows of Work by De Botton (urgh, ily, Alain), as the title stuck out sorely on a second hand book shop some weeks ago (urgh, ily, second hand book shop shelves). Our generation is cursed with this marketed need to find “purpose” via our careers. But, does fiscal purpose even really exist? I know I expect far too much, but is there any other wild ways to live without selling our souls for financial gains? ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
The ethics of employment: how does it not involve setting aside who you are, for who you are paid to be. How much money seduces us into a false acting of “X” position? Why is What We Do To Financially Survive often the first question asked when we meet someone new. What if the theatrics of the office can no longer be enjoyed? What if I leave this show midway…what if I never even sit through an entire performance...how the fuck to stay honest, yet employable? SOS send help xoxox
Pretty much everything that isn’t dreams, fantasies, make-believe or pleasure bores me at the moment (privileged diva). Still interesting is: sunshine, books, real talk convos, nature, writing, coffee, food, wine, sleep, & other naughty and wonderfully pleasurable things...ethical hedonism, perhaps? ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
If I’m not having fun, I’m bored. If I’m not talking about interesting things, I’m bored. If I’m not engaged in something challenging, I’m bored. So.fucking.bored. I want more than easy. I want more than comfort, routine, structure and organisation...
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I want risks, thrills and adventures. I want journeys, quests and missions. I want oppositions, provocations, rebellions and revelations.
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Evenings lately have been spent trying to figure out how to break out of cubical life once and for all, while still doing something worthwhile, investigating visas, crafting a savings plan - and spending most of my time hanging out with a grumpy looking tabby cat (while I eat halloumi).
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I’ve spent over 50% of this year alone. In the presence of no others. Although I have come head on with loneliness (there was no escaping it this time), I also relished the power and clarity it bought. Instead of resisting, covering it up, supressing it’s gloomy stare, I sat with it. I hung out with loneliness. And not only did it not injure me, it offered me more than shying away from it ever did. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
I’ll summarise by uptaking Oscar Wilde’s stance - “I think it’s very healthy to spend time alone. You need to know how to be alone and not defined by another person.” ~ perhaps only the pensive loner introverted types like me will relate to the complete bliss and strength in that one...
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Now, to pull myself off a little slice of urban park where I lay in the hot summer sunshine pondering my escape from cubical jail, and venture back inside and pretend to be interested in whatever it is people in office cubicles seem to be interested in. I am utterly perplexed, to be Frank. Whoever he was anyway.
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Until soon, I shall keep dreaming x
*Fuck! Today I realised I’m far too self absorbed for a traditional career path. I’ve been questioned lately for my desires to live in many countries, work in many jobs & probably also (but never to my face) date many babes?
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What are you running away from? They ask. Why are you so non-committal? To which I respond: I feel completely suffocated in anything ”permanent”. And I question back: how much do you do based on what you think you SHOULD do - get married, buy a house, choose one career... who made up those restrictive rules anyway? What if the very thought of it sends you into an anxious state of panic, smothering you into a life that you do.not.want. Squishing you into a life that doesn’t really excite you...
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I’m trying not to conform in a conformist world. I haven’t figured out how to do this yet, it’s a constant pull towards a freedom filled creative life and a push into social obeying (thanks capitalism). ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Today I met an incredible scientist who has spent 37 years of her career in one hospital. Last week, a man who has spent 7 years in his important, yet office bound, role. Am I an asshole for not even valuing that? That I’m far more impressed by alternative lifestyles? That I’m too self obsessed to commit to one cause, as I’m so committed to my own? ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Insurances, mortgages, contracts...”but it’s just the world we live in” - except that it’s not for everyone. Is it not also ethical to live based on your individually created morals, than ones chosen for you? Wouldn’t it be better for humanity to have passionate people enjoying themselves? Surely that may have a positive ripple effect that may not be equal, but does contribute to, our societies too?
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Contribution is fundamentally important, I’ll never dispute that. But so is joy. We are only here for such a minuscule slither of time..so as selfish it is, I will make great use of our extreme privilege of choice. And for the hyper awareness of this very lucky opportunity, I am forever selfishly grateful & I will still somehow strive to make my impact in my own way.
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*flashback to cotton candy sunsets🤤
