i suppose i'm doing alright. i do my best to find inspiration to write, and evaluate my current state of mind, but at times i feel i'm on autopilot. i look up, and suddenly it's 5 hours later than i last recalled. i know how melancholy this sounds, but i think it's because this is a rare time in my life where i'm neither relentlessly sad, or intensely happy. being content is a strange stage in life for me. it's the welcome reprieve, but it also causes writers block. i lose inspiration to write because i'm neither overflowing with joy, or being consumed by pain. i'm just quietly, happily content. life just seems to be going on around me this month and days pass so quickly now. now that i have my own home, i always seem to have something to do, create, explore, or clean. i have errands to run and a lover that i kiss goodbye far too often. everyday i've done something that's made me happy, even if it's small. i've sat out on the balcony, watched foreign films, made snowcones, and began planting a small herb garden.

i've just been lacking stunning, colorful, important things to say.

i was spacing out (as i seem to do various times throughout the day) and i came to the realization that any problems or complications in my life are caused by others. that sounds pretentious and delusional, i'm sure. but if i think of times where i struggle, or have doubts, it is purely influenced by the actions of someone else. someone else making me feel inferior, burdening me with their problems, someone manipulating, mistreating, misguiding me. alone, i am strong and productive, seemingly free of personal struggles. i fall victim to the hidden agenda of others.

some of my best days are spent eating ice cream on the couch, driving with the sun in my eyes, or just playing video games! at times i'm thankful when the phone doesn't ring.

i am listening to hear where you are

i thought sitting out on the balcony to write would make me more inspired to write, but i've already begun pausing in between words and sentences, watching the sunset. i'm in such a strange mood tonight, i don't know whether i need someone to talk to, or if i just need to be left alone.

i'm not sure where my time had disappeared to today, but it's already nearly past my bed time, and all i can remember is eating a snow cone with the sun in my eyes, and reading my book. i've been trying to write more often, but i often open the window to write in my blog, and i stare at the empty box for ages. i think i miss having heart-to-heart conversations. i feel as though i have so many ideas and questions about life, and they become so plentiful that although i put my fingers on the keys and feel that that i have nothing to say at all, it's truly that i have far too much to say. i had two friends whom i could speak any words to. i could call and have the most important discussion of my life, or speak of nothing at all. there has been a void since their phone calls have nearly stopped. i may have the company of others, but if anything that is when i begin to feel alone. i could speak to them for hours on a topic that started by me simply asking them "what are you really thinking of?". something so small could provoke so many ideas inside of both of us. there is something about catching the eye of someone staring out the window, and knowing that there is something inside of their mind that seemed to not matter at all until it would be spoken out loud.

i think lover feels that i talk too much and feel the need to over-discuss life, but somehow i just want to know that he feels the same as i do, about how life seems to be simultaneously dragging on and flying by, and how strange it feels to sleep alone, or how it feels when you favorite
song is played at a concert, and the beating of the song seems to match the beating in your chest.

sometimes i don't want to speak about living. i just want to hear how it feels to be alive.

feisty.

i was so grouchy this morning. i mumbled grouchy things while waking up to my grouchy alarm clock, walking down my grouchy stairs, at grouch o' clock this morning.

simply because i'm anxious that this weekend will be my birthday weekend, and i requested PTO for monday so i don't have to tumble into bed at 7:00 p.m on my birthday. the strangest thing is that i can't fathom making extensive birthday plans this year, or having an elaborate party. but i'm awfully excited to be turning 20 this year, which seems to be way past due anyway.

i get mixed signals when i announce i'm only 19. for the most part, people assume i'm much older (although i look young) because of my personality and my maturity, but i am literally the youngest employee at my job at the news station. on the other hand, a realtor came into my room at by surprise a few weeks ago (i forgot she was coming) to view and appraise the house i used to live in. she flung open my door, and bluntly asked "what are you doing in here? shouldn't you be in school? what are you anyway, 12? 13?" that was a stunning number. i'd like to pretend that i'm not feisty, but i must admit that i wanted to punch her in the face and bluntly state right back to her that contrary to her belief that i should be on a school bus somewhere, instead, while she was sleeping in her permanent makeup and rollers, i was editing the morning news she had watched on television while drinking her starbucks that morning.

i need to go home and eat some cereal, and recompose myself.

(a stolen moment to write while at work!)

yesterday was one of the nights where i've gotten the least amount of sleep in months, and although i just want to rendezvous with my pillow, that's not what i want to say this morning.

for as long as i can remember, i've experienced this feeling i can't describe. it is the most consuming feeling i have ever experienced. i haven't felt it in so long. i've grown numb and distant from myself. we had been encased in a small bedroom together for nearly two years; our bed became our kitchen table, our couch, our place to love, wrestle, sleep. at night i stood on my balcony, staring at the view outside my new home. i'm not sure how long i stood there. it seemed it was only seconds, but it was clearly more. i watched the lights reflect off of the pool and stared at an infinite number of stars that hung above palm trees embedded into the grass. i felt alive. exhausted. awake. overwhelmed. complete. that night we made love that seemed to continue until i had made him breakfast the next morning. afterwards we tangled ourselves on the couch, watching discovery channel, letting the morning sunlight in.

i suppose i've fallen in love with my apartment, and i think i felt my apartment fall in love with me.

i'm in love with my new place.
only, getting internet seemed to slip my mind.
i should be connected again within a week! for now i don't want to write quite yet while using the public connection in the club house.

overnight.

it's 2 in the morning but the clock reads 8:23 a.m. i can hardly stay awake on this shift. it truly is 8:23, but each hour of my day seems to feel like the middle of the night, regardless of the position of the sun. it's exhausting. in the most beautiful times of my day, whether i'm in my lovers arms or walking in the sunshine, i can only think of sleeping. working overnight has led to an obsession where my appetite, mood, and desires are replaced by the thought of how soon i can crawl back into bed. i can hardly focus long enough to watch a movie, or talk on the telephone without counting the hours of sleep i'm gaining or losing.

i've forgotten what it's like to be awake.

what is surprising is i believe i'm adjusting to the shift. my body shuts down like clockwork at 1:30 p.m. for a nap, and then again at 8:00 p.m. so i can prepare to wake for shift at 2:00 a.m. but i crave sleep more than anything, and it consumes my priorities.

that is what bothers me the most. no matter how many hours i've slept, i can't seem to feel human any longer.

because i dream, i am not.

i'm terrible at making posts that are about holidays. even i tried, i'm unsure i could dedicate an entire post to mother's day. if i began to speak about mother's day, i would only drift back to thoughts and day dreams that began on the topic of my mother, then slowly declined into speaking of bits and pieces of my childhood, like the time the wind blew so high, that as i was walking with my umbrella open, i lifted off the ground.

i haven't been able to focus much recently, because my mind drifts off into whimsical thoughts of making lover dinner in our new home. at times i'm quickly brought back down to earth by the thought of getting all that furniture up those stairs between just the two of us, but then i start to imagine our bodies exhausted, yet accomplished, jumping into the pool and erasing our cares.

i know how often i become caught up in dreams, but i cannot stop the feelings or i think my heart would nearly explode. i believe the absence of dreaming causes death in our lives, unliterally, of course. but just as you can look in a person's eyes and see darkness, you can stand near a person and know that they dream as you do, and they understand the pain of life, but always seek to find love and beauty in the midst of chaos.

i realize how often my lover and i are constantly questioned about how much we've argued since we've been together, and as i tell them that we've never fought, they stare at me in disbelief. they then proceed to tell me that our relationship will soon fall, that we surely begin to fight, and the fact that we haven't already truly must be a sign that there are lies and deceit between us. i smile because they simply don't understand. i smile while knowing it is because people do not believe in love as they used to. love surely must be built upon some form of dishonesty, distrust, and always leave room for meaningless bickering of what to eat for breakfast, and whether the television is on far too loud.

no one believes that in the midst of our hard times, i've been able to look him in the eyes and simply laugh, and that is what saves us. it is not the absence of frustration or reality that allows our relationship to remain this way, but it is purely because of how freely we speak and laugh about the complications in our lives. we've told each other what the other person would never want to hear, we've fallen asleep with our backs turned to each other out of stubborness, but we haven't allowed ourselves to accept the tradition of a love-hate relationship found in many couples today.

naturally, by no means am i saying i understand the complications of marriage, a mortgage, and having a family, but if we can keep this going for as long as we possibly can, and save the arguments for times they truly have meaning, i think we can make it.

if you turn on your television, you'll find sitcoms on every station about the wife who constantly rolls her eyes at the sports-watching husband, and the husband who has reached mid-life crisis at the age of 30 simply because he and his friends refer to his wife as the old ball and chain. the canned laughter plays on while we watch their silly perils, and the arguments between the two escalate. we laugh when the wife lies to her husband about taking his credit card and spending his hard earned money. we laugh when the husband lusts over the next door neighbor who appears to roll out of bed in a red dress and heels, while his wife is downstairs in her pajamas, preparing breakfast for him. we make jokes ourselves every day to our friends about how stubborn our lovers are, and if only men really understood us women, or if women could just leave us men alone! but i think there are destructive qualities in the medias perception of relationships and marriage.

i believe we have distorted the perception of what love we should accept, and what love we should give.