Random Facts About Me
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my scramblings & ramblings
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I’m pretty damned depressed right now. Beating myself up. Telling myself how worthless I am. Feeling hopeless. Trapped. Stuck. Stupid. Frustrated.
I’m tired of having hopes that do nothing but get dashed because EVERYONE ELSE has the authority to manage my life and my dreams. Not me. Never has been me, never will be.
What’s the point of even going on?
Telling myself the platitudes isn’t helping this time, folks. I’m tired.
Pray for me. ๐
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I meant to go to bed about 2 hours ago. As usual, the silence of the house after everyone is asleep sucked me in. I put on my music, get caught up in some project that doesn’t mean anything to anyone but me, and time flies.
This is my element. It’s dark outside. It’s quiet. I’m the only one “alive.” I’m the only one that matters. I don’t have to answer to anyone or entertain anyone. (Although Lord knows I do love to have people over and to entertain). I live for this “me” time. This is where I thrive with my writing. Or do stuff to my website. Or compose songs. I can just be creative and free. This is where I can forget all about work. This is where all the worries melt away. This is my world. And I LOVE it here.
I’ve been a night owl for years now. I think it started during high school. My mom would let me stay up as late as I wanted on the phone with Charla, and she even let me skip school sometimes, as long as I brought home decent grades. (I did. I was on Merit Roll). I fell in *love* with the night time when I was in college, however. I’d stay up until about 4 or 5am writing, then I’d sleep until 3pm. Wake up and get ready for work–from 5pm to midnight. Then I’d start all over. This was my life and it was very good. At least that part was.
Graduating college and working “normal” hours was a very rough adjustment for me. It still is, sometimes. I’d much rather stay up all night than all day. I guess I should really get on my writing so I can do that someday. I can’t think of a better job but to be alone, writing my novels, in the middle of the night, music blasting in Chris’s my headphones (I stole them from him), making my own hours, doing my own thing. And then having people read what *I* write–my stuff, and enjoying it. Poring over it. Loving it.
I have all these dreams. Yet, I am not doing anything do fulfill them at the moment. That is BAD.
I’m so scared of rejection! Or maybe I’m scared of success! Something is holding me back from focusing on my writing, and I know it’s all me. Nothing else. I have the time. I have the ideas, the drive. I just DON’T DO IT and I NEED to get past that.
I think I need to sleep now. It’s Labor Day, which will be pleasantly busy. Jen*Jen is here, and people will be stopping over tomorrow as well. I have work again Tuesday. I get to leave my dreamworld. Again. Back to reality. ๐
It’s amazing how quickly a 3 day weekend will go…
G’night for real. I think.
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I am following the orders of lamplamp here:
Post a (real) memory of me.
It can be anything you want.
Then post this to your journal.
See what people remember of you.
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