It's 9:43, Do You Know Where Your Life Is?
I think you can always tell when there's a lot on my mind, and going on in my old ticker, because my posts become noticeably more trite. Not that I want them to be considered shallow, and even when they're lighthearted or random, I try to keep them out of that arena. But there is a noticeable shift towards the less meaningful, and I tend to say a lot less, when I've got something deep going in my my brain, heart or soul. I'm trying to say something, without saying what I really want to say.
I think this would be one of those times.
But really, why shouldn't I just come out and say it? In the end, I always do anyhow. It's one of the joys of not being able to live without authenticity. So, right now, in my head and in my heart, to put it simply, there is this:
I'm sick.
I'm jobless.
I'm bored and discontent.
I'm nursing a broken heart.
I'm sick - yeah, I've got the Mono. I happen to be the one person who get's "the kissing disease" and can't even say I've been kissed lately. And let's face it, oohhh how I want to have been kissed lately.
I'm jobless. And it's starting to wear on me. I want to be working, just because I miss it so very much. I miss the structure, the routine, the ability to dress up and not live in my sweats or favorite jeans everyday. I miss the paycheck. Job searching is hard on me. I have a sensitive, bruised and frail sense of self-esteem anyways. If there's any other form of rejection going on in my life, applying for scores of jobs and being rejected for them only adds to the delicate, vulnerable state I'm in. Job searching can be mundane. Interviewing can be mundane. It is only the potential of eventually finding that perfect position, where my creativity, organizational OCD and cookie-baking method of meeting my coworkers can shine, that keeps me pounding the online pavement. I just want to be working already!!
I'm crazy bored. Because I'm unemployed, and am trying to get over my uncomfortable, inconveniencing bout with Mono, I've been home, a lot. Or rather, just indoors really (and during summer!!! The travesty!). I've been watching a lot of tv, reading a lot of books. Doing a lot of nothing. And I am bored!! I find myself just sighing, for no reason, or clock-watching, or sleeping a lot (ok, that's actually prescribed by my doctor). Ho-hum dreariness has set in people - watch out.
And, I'm kind of love sick. Or sick of love - whichever way you want to put it. Every once in a while, I'll renew my faith in meeting a great guy, and seeing it work out. Maybe there's someone I've met, and we've gone on a date or two. A few phone calls, a few flirty texts, a nice dinner, and I'm thinking, whoah, someone might actually be interested in me. Someone might actually think I'm nice, or clever, or God forbid, pretty. Maybe I won't be an old spinster/crazy no-cats lady forever. Maybe we might even someday fall in love, and take long walks and hold hands. And whoah, who knows, maybe, just maybe, we might even run off and elope, and someday have adorable, chubby, bright eyed babies. This could actually happen. Maybe - it maybe could. And then I wake up. And I realize, once again, I was hoping. I need to remember to not do that.
Y'see - hope is a bad thing. I know how cynical, how bitter, how well, hopeless that sounds. But trust me, hope is something I hope to never have, ever again. Hope just gets your hopes up. And in the end, your hopes, well they're only crushed, and dashed, and smashed, and run over by a freight train, and pulverized in a lovely little kitchen blender, then run through the puree setting and spit out onto the floor of your heart like bruise colored applesauce. Bleh. Sorry Sandra Bullock, hope doesn't float. It sinks like an anvil in a pond. (This I'm sure you know, having had your heart broken, and your hopes dashed, this year, probably despite all hopes that your tatooed, ex-stripper crazed, motorcycle riding husband would hopefully turn out to be faithful. I feel ya Sandra, I feel ya!)
So more than anything, more than being bored, and jobless and sick and heartbroken, I'm really just ready to give up on something good happening to me this year. This, at the root of what's going on in my life, and in my mind and heart, is what I'm feeling lately. Once again I hoped, and once again I was reminded that maybe some people just aren't meant to have their hopes fulfilled. I really, really, really had hoped that this wouldn't be the case, though. Especially when it came to the relationship stuff - because all of it, the Mono, the unemployment, the boredom with having Mono and being unemployed, could be so much more tolerable, if only I had someone to share them with. Well, not literally share them with, especially the Mono, but you know what I mean.
So, though the last few posts I've written have been about my favorite decorating magazines, or how Justin Bieber has killed the American man, or just fluff, that's not always who I am. Sometimes I'm brooding, dark and angry. Sometimes I'm bored, discontent and restless. Sometimes I'm jaded, and cynical, and surrendered to the inevitable gloom that I cannot help but foresee. Sometimes I'm all of the above.
But even when I am all of those things, I think I know, that at the heart of me, there is a tiny flicker of a flame, distant in the darkness that surrounds it, that still is sweet, trusting, caring, crazy gullible and naive, and yes, maybe even a teensy wee bit hopeful. And that is who I am, at my core. Even when I try to hide it behind all the boredom, the hopelessness and the fluff, I know that there's more to who I am. Sometimes, there is more, but maybe I'm just not saying it.
