:: Venting Insanity ::

:: Saturday, June 28, 2003 ::

blah
Well, I did nothing again yesterday. I've been rather blah all week. It kind of sucks.

Today, Nana and Auntie Lyn came over. Dad had asked if I wanted to stop by the club since he was running sporting clays today, but those plans were rather dashed when they showed up. Mom wanted me to stay home and watch Two Weeks Notice again with Nana. I wasn't thrilled with sitting through a movie I had just seen the night before with her making weird noises on her dentures again. I don't know why she doesn't get them fitted right. But, she never complains to the actual doctor about anything that bothers her, just the rest of us.

Anyway, I managed to get out of it. Nana said she'd be fine watching TV by herself and that I could go with them. I almost just grabbed my keys and went out to the club, but I was intrigued by the store they were going to. It's called Sacred Places and sells all sorts of earth spirituality stuff. I picked up another dream book for my dream journal and I got a Tarot deck, along with a guide book. I'm really interested in trying it out. I also have a faerie oracle deck that I've been playing with lately.

self-exploration
Basically, since I took that weird class, I've been on my own 'journey' of self-exploration. I'm really trying to get in touch with who I am again. I think that things have been too fake for too long. I'm so used to hiding my feelings and avoiding them that I'm beginning to wonder if I even have any feelings left. My life has been a series of numb patches where I just don't feel anything. I can't fully enjoy being intimate with someone. I feel disconnected inside. Physical sensations just don't cut it anymore.

When people tell you to act happy so that you'll feel happy, it works. I've fooled myself into thinking I'm in a good mood, just by acting like I'm in a good mood around my friends. But, it just isn't real, and I'm tired of pretending. The only problem is I hate being a depressing person. I don't want to drag the people around me into my little hole. I don't want to be a whiner, a complainer, a constant downer. I cover it up because I don't like to talk about it. I get annoyed when people ask too many questions, or try to force me into talking.

If I want to talk about it, I will. I don't mind when they ask once in a while. It feels good that people are concerned about me. But, if I said, "Nothing", "Nevermind", or "Don't worry about it", don't ask me again for at least an hour or so. Asking me fifteen minutes later will only get me more annoyed and more distant from you.

I had this problem with my last boyfriend. He wanted someone who would do that. He wanted someone who would constantly pressure him into talking. I'm not like that. I hate when people do that to me, so the last thing I'm going to do is act like that with someone else. He did it to me constantly and then wondered why I never opened up to him. At the time we broke up, I wasn't really sure how to explain it. I wasn't really sure why I acted the way I did. I just knew I did.

Even now, I'm not so sure as to the reasons behind some of the things I do. My parents always said that I shouldn't do something if there's no reason. Whenever I did something they didn't agree with, they would ask why. I would say I didn't know. "I don't know" and "No reason" are two different things. My parents assumed that "I don't know" meant there was no reason for what I did. There was a reason, I just didn't know at the time what it was. I don't always understand the way my mind works. Overly rational people don't understand how that can be. They don't understand that there isn't always a clear and consise feeling or thought going on in your head.

Someone once asked me what I think about. I just said, "Nothing", but it wasn't really what I meant. I know I think about things, but they're not always in the forefront. They're not always clear and consise strings of thought that I can follow like a map of my brain. They drift, like grains of sand on a windswept beach. You can't pick an individual grain without looking really close. And if I'm just sitting there and randomly thinking, it looks like a solid beach of thoughts, not individual grains of separate subjects and feelings. I can't always tell you what I'm thinking about, especially if someone just asks me out of the blue. As soon as I reach for a grain, they all slip away through my fingers.

snapple "real fact" number 206
Over one million earths can fit inside the sun.