Change.

Highs and lows, and a bit of deep dark despair.

We held our second party, much bigger than the housewarming. It was a success though we had too much food. So many people that RSVP'd didn't come, and some didn't even bother to RSVP. Oh that really irks me. But overall it was good. Who knew a quiet shy girl like me would enjoy parties so much?

Christmas was good. We spent too much on the party, and we had to buy a generator so money was tight. We didn't get a tree this year, which is okay. We will decorate more when kids come along in the distant future.

We have been in this new house since August, and I have yet to take advantage of my very own craft room. I have never had so much dedicated space like that before so I wonder what my problem is. It's mostly undecorated, a big mess, and our lease is up in February, though we can renew it again no problem. It depends if we start looking for our own house. If we get a foreclosed one the mortgage payment can be as low as $100. If that were really the case, I could quit my job that is quite realistically ruining my life little by little.

After talking with a friend there is actually a small series of jobs that I would go to school for. It would take about 2 years, and the field is still growing. But alas I can't fit school into my schedule right now.

So I got an adorable little cd/radio/mp3 player to put in my special craft room as well as an awesome magnifying LED light. With these two things combined I definitely see myself spending time in that room for a change and really get into making my jewelry business a success.

I am really tired of thinking about how things are just going along...time is passing, and I am in a rut that I can't get out of. I won't be this young again. Why am I wasting my youth working in a shitty job and letting everything pass me by? Change. Change. Change.

Things will change.

Artificial Social High

Artificial social high

A one man party with the music blaring into the silence of the house, where food is an optional activity for the social engagements with ones own self. Take what you can get. Dig the music on a different level, feel it vibrate through the floor and into your veins, wakening you from a long lost slumber of stumped recall and detachment from the rest of yourself. Come together with the party ingredients to concoct an artificial social high...

One song is not enough, and yet the whole night can exist over the same rifts and notes and despair that leaks out of the sound waves.

A mental rush of energy and pleasure that radiates into your entire body. And your mind fills up with a silent bliss that reacts in unison with the parallel reality that you coexist in...one song is a concert when you close your eyes. You can feel the guitar thrums and breath in that spiritual air. Emotion...feeling...reaction...all one and yet separate.

The world stops; captured in a moment of an elated sigh. Relief and dependency. Oh god is this what it feels like to be born again; to come alive from a grave that spent years in the making of habitual aloneness. To be lost among the atoms and the hidden agendas of simple words that are strung into a verbal epiphany and a regret; an expression of insights and questions that were hidden beneath the bone...to close your eyes and to be rid of the world you know and just be suspended and protected within nothingness like the pages of a tattered journal.. Everything is relative and beautiful in a state of forgiveness and understanding...deep breathes are like no breathes and chills that run down your bare arms are reminders that there is something else out there...unfriendly, defensive, and real.

Can this be the meaning...de vida?

I'm still a writer.

I'm just not doing it in the ways that I prefer.

Maybe I'm just over the angsty poetry, and I need to stop comparing myself to that. But anyway I think I will have more free time in the future. My business is not progressing at the speed that I had hoped it would, but I did nothing to help myself in thinking that it needs to pick up right now in order for me to quit my soul draining day job. It's just not going to happen right now, and I think I am finally okay with that.

I need to focus on cooking and teaching myself how to keep a house. It's been years and years since I had someone show me how to do these things. Cooking and cleaning and keeping our house nice is very important, and why would I want to neglect these things in favor of further depressing myself into not feeling the motivation/need/drive to work on my business? So what if I can't live off of just that for right now? If anything it will have given me experience for when I publish my [future] novels and market them myself.

Now that would be the life. I would much rather be living off of my writing money than my jewelry business. I can see it now: early morning before the world is awake. Sitting on my deck when the sun is just poking up through the clouds. Drinking coffee. Company by candlelight. Pen and paper or lap top.

That's the life I want.

Hmm Cocktail.

It's the combination of a comment from a tv show, and someone on a public forum realizing what she really wants to do with her life. I can't handle my full time job that sucks but is necessary and my business. This last year has really been a let down. I look at so many other people doing their handmade business full time in less time than I have had started mine. I look at other people that have their lives planned with goals, and I just struggle to make it through another work day.

I cannot have both. I said once before to someone that wasn't listening that I wanted to be a writer that owned a jewelry business, not a jewelry business owner that sometimes wrote. I am doing nothing to steer in this direction. I am stagnant, hopeless, and I have to take a step backwards in order to take two steps forward.

...

Unless, that is, I push myself far beyond my capacity to make it all work in one swoop. And how would I proceed? I would finish my studio office: put the shelves up. Put everything in its place. Make schedules. And, just do it.

Just do it.

I don't want to waste anymore time.

Alternate Universe.

I'm in the moment of the tortured artist. Drowning in music I fell in love with a long time ago. Yearning to write, to create, withdrawing myself into that special place...seeing physical love on a different level. Seeing the beauty in everything. Dreading what is inevitable.

Love.

Life.

Live.

Art.

Torture.

Music.

<3

I feel like I can go all night. Drinking coffee and smoking cigars and dreaming and living in this haze of artistic depth. Breathing in deep breaths of dreamy air. Feeling the breeze on my bare skin and not being cold. So alive. What a sensation.

A milestone.

We are getting our first house. Our own personal space after celebrating our 1st wedding anniversary last week. Money will be tight, and the house will be empty, but we will have each other on a completely different level. And I get the chance to prove that I can run my business...I haven't felt that I could work/deal with it for a long time now. I will have my own room dedicated to making jewelry, accessories, cards, collage, and etc. I can paint the walls green! Johnny Depp can keep me company.

I have a lot of faith that moving will change everything. I will go from just getting through the day to doing laundry, cooking for 2, and cleaning as well as maintaining and building a business. We will be, liek, adults now. Who would've thought (thunk)?

Will I ever get back to writing? Will this move inspire the long dwindling spark? Only time can tell, and dammit I want it now. We looked at another house. It was on the lake with a private dock and a little fire pit. I imagined myself laying on the dock at night with a fire burning and just writing. Now I can picture myself typing on the bare carpet of the new living room...or maybe even on the steps in the garage. I will find my designated spot.

Thinking ahead.

Thinking ahead. Letting go of the gripping poison that has been binding for years. Life is too short to be unhappy and restless and bored. Taking a deep breath, eyes closed, waiting and changing. Prepare now for the future life you strive for. Don't dwell and let things pass you by because you would rather be in a horrid mood to prove a point that your demons possess you.

Vitamins, water, sleep, nutrients, movement...simple things maybe, but they are the tools you need to motivate yourself out of a rut.

There are a lot of things that are out of sync. For the sake of your life and sanity and that of your significant other rearrange and shuffle the things that demand the precious moments of your existence.

This doesn't make complete sense, but at least it's out on the table now.

no, never gone.

just momentarily unavailable; disconnected. All the time in the world is built into one second. Will you breathe in for me and let the air never fade? My darling, a dance in the shadows of a secret moon...tender (and faltered.) I am but a fraction away...but sometimes the multiplication of heart beats and sighs expands over the most scorching desert in a hind site, a millimeter from the next expectation or notion.

I am your rising sun, and I will also be your dying dusk. Together in a blink or an eternity; you can never escape me.

Empty Desires.

I can't exactly explain the title because I don't quite know myself what it means. But then again maybe I do. I used to write. Now I lean against a cold distant brick wall, and I can claim no attempts of kindling an old flame. It just left me one day; the urge, the driving need to write. I kind of sort of wander and feel an emptiness inside. When I became connected to someone it slowly started to slip away. Was I lifted from my life long angst? Maybe the void I feel just needs to be filled with happiness...as the angst no longer feeds from me. But not everything I used to write was depressing and angry. I wrote abstract flash fiction - what happened to that? I loved it.

Make me.

Hmm, hello.

3
.
.
.
2
.
.
.
1
.
.
.
/engage blog