Regrets

Sometimes I forget about the overwhelming amount of things I’ve done in my life and I focus only on the things I regret. There are some things I’d like to get off my chest so that I can stop dwelling on them and move forward. This is all part of my plan to retrain my mind in 2009 to live in the moment and look only forward, never back. 

I found a link with steps for overcoming regrets at http://www.wikihow.com/Overcome-Serious-Regrets

Step 1 – Determine my regrets

A) Being too shy and self-conscious to say what I want when I wanted to and to stand up for myself
B) Dwelling on romantic rejection
C) Not going with my instincts on where to go to college
D) Not leaving the college I despised when I realized they didn’t have any classes that I was interested in or when I wasn’t inspired by the people around me
E) Not taking advantage of opportunities
F) Missing out on thing in general
G) Constantly comparing myself to others
H) Being what I was expected to be instead of what I wanted to be 

 Step 2 – Ask for forgiveness

Ok. I forgive myself for being so stupid for so long. I’m a harsh self-critic and I pretty much feel like I only have myself to blame. I forgive myself for wasting time. I don’t blame anyone else but I apologize to anyone who I may have hurt through my self-consciousness. And I forgive those who hurt me since I’m sure they’ve been hurt by someone else anyhow. And importantly I forgive my parents for throwing me into a misleading life of suburban bliss which retarded my sense of self. 

Step 3 – accept the circumstances and take responsibilty

Ok. The circumstances are that I have little to show for what I really want to pursue. I want to write, act, and story tell. And be in that community. And I’ve talked about it and been bitter about it instead of actually doing the things I wanted. How foolish. And now I regret the happiness I could have achieved. It is my own fault for not leaving school when I knew the direction I wanted to take. Now I have to pave my own path and stop going with the flow of life. That is scary to think about but I have to enter into what I want boldly. 

Step 4 – Deal with toxic relationships. 

I have a few toxic relationships. I’ve severed one of them and now I’m haunted by it all the time. There’s really nothing I can do or say at this point to this person. And I have a few friends that push me back instead of push me forward. 

Step 5 – Grieve for your regrets

I think I’ve grieved these things all long enough. I already see clearly how they have effected me and kept me from doing what I want over and over. I don’t know how to stop grieving, so I’m just going to keep doing new things and follow my gut until my regrets turn into accomplishments. 

Step 6 – Recognize what you have learned or gained

A) Being too shy and self-conscious to say what I want when I wanted to and to stand up for myself – I learned how this just makes me feel like I’ve missed out. I now see clearly that people are more responsive to my confidence than my shyness. Always. And for every insecurity I’ve ever had the people I’ve truly known have just as many.
B) Dwelling on romantic rejection – I can’t stop it. I can’t choose who will love me. And, yeah, it fucking hurts. I’d rather feel rejected than never take a chance again. And I can think of 4 separate occasions where I thought I had reached a peak of emotional bliss that I could never retain again. So, everything comes in cycles.
C) Not going with my instincts on where to go to college – Go with my instincts from now on
D) Not leaving the college I despised when I realized they didn’t have any classes that I was interested in or when I wasn’t inspired by the people around me – I’ve matured since then. 
E) Not taking advantage of opportunities – I can now recognize opportunities
F) Missing out on things in general – I ALLOW it to happen. So stop.
G) Constantly comparing myself to others – At the end of the day I’m stuck with me
H) Being what I was expected to be instead of what I wanted to be – This will never make me happy

Step 7 – write a plan or agreement that identifies how i can avoid this regret in the future

Take chances and opportunities as they come. But believe in myself — this is the hardest and most important thing

Time ticks.

Sigh. 

I’m in Florida. I can’t sleep. I can’t stop counting years because I don’t understand time. There are paintings in this condo that I made, and old magazines, and pictures… all dated. And I can’t figure out time. I’ve literally been sitting here counting over and over how many years it’s been since 2002 or 2006 or 1997. And to be quite honest, it’s freaking me the fuck out. 

I can’t believe that I’m 24. I can’t believe how little I feel that I’ve progressed in moving along my insecurities. Can I grow? Or will I forever be plagued with the same general mental anxieties?

I feel like a little girl inside of a woman’s body. Who is this person staring at me in the mirror? I’m still shy. I still feel unworthy of a lot of things. I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I “grow up.” And, quite frankly, I’m fucking terrified that my friends who are in relationships, engaged, or married are sending me Christmas cards or inviting me over to their houses. 

I’m just not there yet. And I told my sister earlier today that I simultaneously feel old and young. Why can’t I just be?

I fucked up. Time to start anew.

I have been a zombie for six years. I guess that is not all that bad, some people are zombies for much longer than six years. I know what I’m interested in but for some reason my self-esteem keeps getting in my way. 

I’ve always been dramatic, in the sense that I like to entertain. I like story telling. I like making an ass of myself. I feel comfortable with all eyes are on me as opposed to no eyes on me. Why did I ever become so insecure? Why did I never believe that I could actually do what I wanted to do. 

It’s funny how obvious this seems right now. As a kid, I convinced my little sister that she should go to theater camp because I secretly wanted to go but didn’t have the balls. I sat in for the first thespian meeting in high school then become intimidated and never went back. I studied a TV show I liked like a grad student. I applied to a few colleges for the arts then chickened out when I thought I couldn’t do it. 

How do I make up for this lost time now? I don’t know what I want to do but at least I have a direction. Right now it’s a  storytelling-film-acting-production-set design general interest. I don’t know how to break in the door when I have nothing under my belt. I have no portfolio. I’m stuck. 

But I have to try. Right?

Nothing is okay in America.

Everyone I know likes to think that it’s just the “media” hyping things up, but the truth is… nothing is okay in America. We haven’t gone into a full out panic yet, but I can tell you this much:

50% of my college educated, smart friends have either lost or cannot find jobs. 

Of course, that does not sound THAT horrifying when put down on paper. It can be tolerated by just about anyone that reads it because it doesn’t really relate to anyone in specific. What cannot be tolerated, however, is the news I just found out tonight. Something that is completely horrifying to me despite my ever-growing understanding of the world as it is. 

Two girls that I know, who are smart and beautiful and full of potential have turned out to be prostitutes. One was arrested for prostitution, the other has done virtually nothing with her degree in computer science. This is what is going on here in America. This is what no one is speaking about but what is really going on in the epicenter of America, Chicago. Here smart, beautiful, good girls are selling their bodies for money. 

For the first time ever I am truly terrified of what might become of this place.

depression

This is just crippling. I’m at this point again, the point that I absolutely hate. Ok, I’ve had a few drinks. But this is no different than normal. It’s hard. It’s so hard to admit to depression, to admit to this beast that overcomes your heart and soul. 

Tonight I sat down next to a coworker 10 years my senior and he leaned over into my ear and he said, “I’m trying this new thing where I tell people exactly what I think of them.” 

And I said to him, “Ok. What do you think of me?”

And he said, “I think you’re better than this. That you’re too good for the rest of the people here. You need to leave, there’s  a lot inside of you, you aren’t like anyone here.”

It is moments like this that make me incredibly depressed. People always think that I’m more than what I think I am. And I don’t know what to do with that information. I find it hard to relate to much of anyone. And when I do relate to someone it terrifies me because I think it will only be temporary… as it usually is. This is what I know, this is what I fear. 

This depression that I suffer from is a dark night on a dark horse that can creep up whenever it wants. It makes me feel tiny and hopeless and ashamed and pathetic. I can tell myself that I’m great a million times but never believe it Do I need validated? Sometimes, I guess. Is that bad to admit? I read today that Jim Carey admitted to an ongoing battle with depression. This doesn’t surprise me. I think comedians have it the worst. Comedians are emotionally intelligent, they see the truth in everything. Their cynicism is hilarious yet it haunts them. 

I find it hard to see a purpose in much of anything. People are flakey. I’m drunk and sad and I hate this, but the truth is that it exists. Depression. It kicked in when I was about 13 years old and I can’t get over it. No pill can fix this. It makes you worry so much about yourself. If I’m “too good” for so many things, what am I meant to do?

I’m a fucking genius, I’m just lazy.

Did I start telling lies or did I just forget to do stuff? 

Ok, I admittedly have a little problem. I’m good at coming up with shit. It’s not really “lies”, per se. It’s more like this:

Polly Prancer: So, what’s new?
Me: Oh, you know… nothing really. Just started making an online publication, looking for a new job, thinking about moving to Australia, and writing a novel.
Polly Prancer: Wow! You’re busy!
Me: Yeah… you know.

*Flash forward one month*

Polly Prancer: So how’s all that stuff going?
Me: What stuff?
Polly Prancer: You know; online publications, job search, Australia, and your novel.
Me: Oh… uh… still working on it. Ya know. I got sidetracked though because now I’m writing a screenplay and freelancing.
Polly Prancer: LOL
Me: … (what?)

That all being said, maybe I should look into actually completing the things I set out to do. I gotta quit telling myself I’m above the work I do then not doing anything to change it.

F- for me.

Boys and girls (This post is about sex… interested?)

 

Easy, right?

 And there you have it. Male end into female end, simple as pie. Then why do I have an overwhelming, mind crushing complex about the whole thing? No jokes. Since I was about 7 years old I’ve had a sex complex. What this exactly means I’m not sure, but I’m sure I have one. I’m like a sexually repressed catholic school girl only the difference is that I’ve brought this upon myself for no good reason. 

I’m lenient to believe that my sexual complex stems from an early exposure to pornography. When I was a child I had a totally perverted babysitter. Female. High School Student. Interested in theater. Liked to watch my dad’s porn with me. Talk to any former victim of child sexual abuse and I’m sure they will tell you that the shame does not come from being forced to do something you didn’t want to do, but the shame comes from wanting to do it. A lot. 

Said babysitter exposed me to many things. Howard Stern. Playboy magazines. Real Sex on HBO. Where my parents condom stash was. Stripping, specifically how to properly strip on-top of a bar in my tap dance costume. Said babysitter also did some strip shows for me. I stuffed dollars in her g-string at the ripe age of 8. I’m pretty sure I gave her a gynecologist exam too. But the demon in my head that I can’t quite shake is that this girl showed me things that everyone else was hiding from me. I knew it was inappropriate behavior but I didn’t want to stop. 

So, I grew up with a pretty crystal clear image of what deep throating was. While the other girls my age had anxiety over how to kiss, I was worried about whether I should spit or swallow. And so, I properly avoided any sexual experience for as long as possible. 

When I was 17 I had my first boyfriend. Sweet boy. Really. But he wouldn’t touch me. Before I left for college we were laying half naked on a futon together and I can’t really recall a time I’ve been hornier in my life, and boyfriend would not give me any satisfaction. So, I left for college sexually frustrated. Talked to him for the first month long-distance style, then learned that he found a new girlfriend. I went bat shit. It’s clear to me that it was never about being in love with him, but rather it was about being denied sexual pleasure. 

Funny how something so small can impact someone so hard. For the next 5 years I would make a game out of getting boys to strip down, fondle them, make them believe that I was going to allow P in Vajay, then send them out the door with their dicks still standing at attention. Cruel? Perhaps. But it takes a long time to realize that not ever letting your guard down is only making you miserable. 

Then a year ago I fell in love. And my god was it the hardest thing I’ve ever tried to understand. I let my guard down completely. Maybe I let it down a little too much. But I was all in. And then the irony of life came back and bit me in the ass, for this boy who I was in love with was also in lust with about 10 other girls. Despite my efforts to explain my “you’re just too emotional” attitude, I had a melt down. Suddenly what I had always feared was the truth of the world had actually come true:

 

The truth (as I know it)

Maybe I just picked the wrong boy to trust. But now I sit here twiddling my thumbs and wondering where to go from here. After all my efforts to not be taken advantage of, that’s exactly what happened. C’est la vie as they say.

Afraid of writing

When I get really overwhelmed with life I always do the same thing to help sort myself out. I take a walk by myself, grab a sugary latté, and search for the answers to life’s questions in Borders. Where better to look for answers than in the writing of other human beings?

Alas, herein lies the problem: How many authors actually know what they’re talking about?

See, I don’t know how it is for you but for me I’ve always associated books with answers. I’m not really sure who I thought wrote all of my textbooks growing up, but I think I subconsciously may have always believed that they came from some higher power with all the answers. It’s not until you get to college and meet these incredibly flawed people called “professors” who write these things called “textbooks” that you realize, holy shit! Anyone can write anything!

And so it goes, I pursued a degree in writing mostly out of the intrigue that I could write anything and if I remove my own voice from whatever I write I can sound completely legit while remaining anonymous. What a novel concept! (pun intended)

When I’m looking for answers in Border’s I go through the same vicious cycle. First, I peruse the self-help section. For those of you who have never wandered down this aisle, allow me to tell you all about it. It’s chock-full-o books with titles like Why women think like crickets and men think like iguanas and 10 steps to learning how to find the love you deserve today! All of the books over in the self-help section immediately grab your attention; you’re looking for answers and these puppies promise the goods!

Then the little critical man in your head starts wondering the validity in 10 steps to learning how to find the love you deserve today and if it’s even plausible that men and women can be dumped into two cookie-cutter shaped ideals of thought pattern. Then upon further examination you realize that Crystal Ball Knowall Ph.D has her photoshopped face plastered all over the cover of about 10 of her “self-help” books. I’m skeptical, my friends. Skeptical.

So maybe the self-help section wasn’t the best place for legit advice on life. Off I go to the next section of interest: Sociology. Ahh! Real people writing about real issues using real research! Bingo! The books here are all about why as a society we all follow the leader, why the government is out to get you, and why if you eat meat you’re going to die from some crazy bacterial infection so you’d better just become a vegetarian right now-here-are-some-recipes! Well, fuck, this isn’t exactly what I’m looking for either. Everyone is so damn paranoid. And cynical. And, well, kind of a pretentious know-it-all. 

Forget sociology, let’s just go to the philosophy section. Who to read? Who to read? So many good philosophy books to get through. Yes! Why didn’t I think of this before. These books have stood the test of time, these philosophers are the most brilliant minds that ever existed! We’ll start with Nietzche!

Fast forward 5 minutes in the philosophy section: My god, these words are big. What year is this damn book written? Who can possibly even begin to understand this hoo-ha?!

And that’s when I start right back at 0, head over to the Moleskin section, buy a blank journal and decide that I’m just going to have to write this fucker myself because no one else can quite hit the nail on the coffin. 

Yes, I’m going to write the greatest self-help-sociology-philosophy book of all time.  Just you wait. I’m starting it tomorrow.

Hot Mess, New Bar

It took me 20 extra minutes to get to work this morning because my legs forgot how to work. No jokes. Los legos no workos. 

Ok, maybe I should back up. Let’s time travel:

5 hours ago
Sleeping

8 hours ago
Eating pine nut couscous with my roommate, Blondie-locks. 

9 hours ago
Puking chunks of free pizza into freshly cleaned toilet.

10 hours ago
Drugs.

11 hours ago
Being yelled at for climbing behind a bar and making myself drinks. What? The damn bartender couldn’t get her shit together. Anyhow, I was entertaining a very nice high school history teacher with “hot mess” tattooed on his arm.

12 hours ago
Free pizza from bartender

13 hours ago
Attempting to do this:

Beyoncé's moves

 

14 hours ago
Cock tales

15 hours ago
Possibly sober? Who can actually remember back that far?

Now I’m trying to recollect what I said to this “hot mess.” Something about virginity and industrial design. And how many numbers did I give out? The mysteries of the universe are great today.

$0

This morning I woke up, checked my checking account, and pouted at the big fat 0 staring me in the face. It would be nice to say that this is a one time thing, but I’d say I go through this about once a month. Yeah, I have one of those steady “big girl” jobs but I just can’t seem to reign in any sort of self control when it comes to finances. 

What’s a girl to do?

Right now getting more moolah is in my top 10 to do. I’ve come up with a few good strategies for making this happen:

• Freelance web design I don’t like designing for others anymore. 
• A better, more boring, and higher paying job I’m already losing my marbles as it is. 
• Dealing drugs Seems a big high risk… and illegal. 
• Going back to school to become X Don’t you need money to go back to school? And I can’t come to a damn conclusion about what I should do.
• Stripping I think that would involve the need for bigger boobs. 
• Starting a porn web site. 

So there we have it. I’m going to start a porn web site. Should bring in the cash fast. I can make things on the internet. And how hard is it really to get people to take their clothes off? 

This is going to take some brainstorming…