It's taken me a while to put up a blog post because I haven't felt that I had anything especially interesting or special to share with the few who read my blog. Well, so what. I have stuff on my mind, and I did make this blog to write about precisely that.
Where to start? Knitting has fallen by the wayside in the wake of work and time spent with my friends and Patrick. I haven't felt like knitting in such a long while that I almost feel guilty about it. I tried to knit to see if it would help cheer me up, but it failed and I had to rip back six rows of stranded color sock as payment for my trouble. Actually, most of my crafts have gone out the window recently. I don't write or draw as much as I used to. Right now, I spend most of my days working, sleeping, or trying to spend some precious time with my friends who are as busy as I am.
Not that so much work and so little everything else isn't paying off. Holly and I have a good thousand dollars in the bank towards our future apartment, and that amount is only growing. This is good, nothing but good.
However, I find that lately I've been feeling rather depressed and upset with myself. I can't pinpoint exactly why, but I'm sure it stems from my usual woes and worries. In fact, most of it seems to come from the fact that I feel like nothing I do is having any effect on my situation in life. I change things I don't like into something that should help, only to find that I don't like the changes I made, either. I am discontent with something, but I just can't figure out with what. I've made attempts to try and single out the reason, using extensive thought and trial-and-error, and yet I still just can't see what is wrong with me.
Maybe I'm just demoralized. Applying for financial aid and being turned down five times in a row isn't much of a picker-upper. Or maybe it's my job. Serving 20-30 hours a week isn't really what I want to do with my life. But it's money, something I need, and until I can get another application somewhere accepted, it's all I have. I am trying, though. I'm sending out applications and resumes all over the place.
But then I wondered one day, if I really am changing all these things, but my mood isn't changing, maybe I'm just unhappy being happy? Satisfaction isn't what I need, perhaps? But that doesn't make sense, either, because I'm NOT happy. Well, sure, there are things in my life that bring me joy, like Patrick, or my friends and family, but they just don't have the same effect on my mood like they used to. A few months ago, when I was feeling this way, it was very easy to get me back on track and feeling better. And while some of my friends or family may not have noticed, I'm slipping back into that rut and it's getting harder to pull myself out.
I think some of that is probably BECAUSE I've been here before that it's hard to help myself feel better about it. I think that part of my brain is saying, "But no matter what I do, I end up back here? What's the point?" And even though the bigger, more important part is saying, "I don't want to be here, let's go cheer ourselves up and make some positive changes or advances," that little tiny voice is managing to muscle its way to the top. And that kind of hurts to think about. I like to pretend that I am an optimistic person, and that I always look at the bright side. Lately, though, that little voice is trying to prove to the other voice that there IS no bright side, so why bother putting out the effort to find one?
I know I'm not the first person to feel this way. I'm sure Emily had this same little crisis of faith when she was dealing with her school idiots and moving and getting a job and all that fun stuff. And now, she has even more important problems. I am thinking all the good thoughts I can for her and my friends in Iraq, and the ones who are in the service in the States but are being sent out soon, and the ones who are even worse off than I am. But somehow, in the back of my head just between the little voice and the big voice, those good thoughts don't sound genuine.
And I don't know why.
They are, they truly are. I can only wish for good things for all those people. I would give up all my good luck if it meant that Emily's alien baby turned out to be just a cyst that they drain, scrape away, and that she recovers just fine.
And when I type that, it looks good. It sounds like I mean it. But in my head, I have a niggling doubt that maybe I DON'T mean it. Maybe I'm being selfish on the inside, and not all of my good thoughts are going out to my sister, one of the people I have always been closest to throughout my life, who needs them now more than ever.
Maybe I'm being selfish and saving some of my worry for myself. Or most of my worry, which seems to be the case.
I just need to find a place in life where I am truly happy with everything. But I don't have any clue where or when that niche waiting for me is.
Every man has his daydreams, every man has his goal,
People like the way dreams have of sticking to the soul
Thunderclouds have their lightning, nightengales have their song
And don't you see, I want my life to be something more than long?
~Corner of the Sky (The Life and Times of Pippin, broadway musical)