I've been asking myself this question for over 3 years now, "What makes me happy?" And depending on the time of day, the amount of food in my stomach, the weather, the company, the answer(s) change. The key is finding the constant. What constantly makes me happy regardless of outside, uncontrollable factors. I have come to the conclusion that not only does happiness lie within the beholder, but in all the important relationships that have manifested, sprang up, reigned down on me in the past, ones that I hope will form in the future and the ones that I cherish now. My happiness is also affected by what I do. For a long time I've been suppressing the obvious. Negating to tap into how I'm really feeling, I just kept ignoring my feelings of defeat and anxiety- mostly annoyance, now that I think of it. Everyone says you're suppose to hate your job. It's normalcy. And I used to agree. I used to accept the inevitable and struggle through my day praying that I would eventually become numb to the incessant insanity and dehumanizing task of folding clothes, tracking numbers, and pretending to care about something so trite and ultimately soul crushing. After a series of fortunate/unfortunate events I now realize what's important. Happiness. People. Life. And actually not loathing your job and everything it stands for. Life is on the up and up minus the awful down and down of the weekend.
I'm out.
Showing posts with label self work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label self work. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
L O S T C ON Q U E S T
He stood with his back to the bar watching patrons drink and talk about subjects submerged under sober uneasiness and pride. The clinking of glasses irritated him, but also excited him in a familiar way. The sounds of nighttime always allayed his loneliness. Knowing others came to the bar to escape the unrelenting fate of solitude, he sighed with relief and scanned the room for the next person he would escape with. When he first started his job he was reluctant to introduce himself to pretty girls, sure that behind their kind eyes lurked only the inscrutable desire for attention and a free shot. Quickly learning that they were eager to offer more than their attention, he felt no harm in indulging in fleshy validation. Growing numb with every encounter and regretful with every number tossed away he began to fall into a blissful nothingness.
Music echoed loudly through the speakers. Girls danced provocatively only to get guys' attention, shaking and gyrating unspeakable wants. Guys salivated over the knowing motions and clumsily attempting to get attention by laughing too loudly and pushing each other. He watched with amusement this weekly charade in which he never partook. Then he saw her. She had been watching him from across the room, patiently waiting for him to notice her. He did. A panic came over him, paralyzing him. It was her. A girl. The girl? He had been with so many he could not be sure.
It was a night like any other when he met her. Immediately writing her off as an easy target, a notch in his bedpost, a girl to conquer and leave abandoned. Though she was different from the rest, uneasy in her approach, unsure of her fingertips that lightly brushed his arm. An unrecognizable timidity crossed her face when she laughed at his awful jokes and smiled innocently at his mundane, cliched compliments. Her eyes penetrated him when they exchanged anecdotes, she peered into a place he was so far removed from he knew it didn't exist. Yet he went through with the selfish, debilitating act. She woke up next to him in the morning and her presence startled him. Usually he opened his eyes to an empty room and a warm spot where a nameless victim previously laid. Demurely pulling up his sheets to her glowing body, she grinned at him with unknowing- purity. He felt sick. Telling her he had to be somewhere soon he feigned agitation as he glanced at the clock by his bed that read 10 AM. Without saying much, she moved quickly, repeatedly apologizing to him, dressed and left, but not before giving him the warmest, most sincere kiss he'd ever received since he moved to the city from his small town. In that single kiss he remembered who he had been and what he had become. She left. He looked in the mirror, trying to see that place she saw. He had been withdrawn for so long he forgot who he was. His face looked haggard and old. Dark circles ringed his eyes- black pools of malcontent and horror. He almost screamed. What had he done? What had he been doing? All these girls. All these people. He began washing his face, gently at first then feverishly, rubbing his face raw, trying to scrub away himself. In his search for affirmation he abandoned thought, feelings, reason. These girls were nothing but meaningless shells in which to hide his vulnerability. With every girl he marginalized he lost a piece of his humanity, a multitude of self-respect. He began to resent them, the girls. They never gave him want he wanted, what he needed. They were instant gratification, fleeting validation, false hope. But in one kiss he saw what he had been suppressing for as long as he could remember, but made a great effort to forget. And until tonight he thought he had.
The music all of a sudden got too loud. The charade on the dance floor turned into a frantic, impassioned fight amongst the sexes, then a mindless, erratic orgy. He felt dizzy. Nauseated. The room spun and he ran to the bathroom past eager faces clutching dollar bills, anxious for another drink, past lusting eyes, past apathy, past fear, past loathing, past everything and everyone that reminded him of himself. He let go of all the guilt, the pain, the anger, the bitterness, staring at it mildly, swirling around in a bowl of indifference. He felt better. Much better.
He sauntered back to the bar, holding himself gently. She stood in front him yet seemed so distant. He looked at her. She looked at him pitifully. He was pathetic, she thought, yet felt a pang of what she didn't know. Maybe it was understanding- or affection. Shuddering nervously, embarrassed by the thought of their passionless night together, she finally broke the awkward silence.
"Hi. How've you been." She had to lean over the bar so he could hear her speak.
"Fine." He lied. She knew he was lying. He looked down at his feet. She smelled how she smelled the night they first met.
"Um," she paused, he looked up imploringly, "Can I get a whiskey ginger?" He stared at her unable to comprehend what she said then finally replied,
"Sure. Yeah," he gave it to her, "It's on me." He said those words, pleading for her forgiveness. She refused his charity and his apology. She finished her drink at the bar, staring into his eyes as she gulped, the whiskey and carbonation burning her throat sweetly. She put the glass down. Waiting a moment, she pierced him again with her eyes. She kissed him. He could taste the whiskey and ginger on her cool lips. His eyes closed, she pulled away, put her money on the bar and left. He stood awe-struck. The music played. He never saw her again.
I'm out.
Music echoed loudly through the speakers. Girls danced provocatively only to get guys' attention, shaking and gyrating unspeakable wants. Guys salivated over the knowing motions and clumsily attempting to get attention by laughing too loudly and pushing each other. He watched with amusement this weekly charade in which he never partook. Then he saw her. She had been watching him from across the room, patiently waiting for him to notice her. He did. A panic came over him, paralyzing him. It was her. A girl. The girl? He had been with so many he could not be sure.
It was a night like any other when he met her. Immediately writing her off as an easy target, a notch in his bedpost, a girl to conquer and leave abandoned. Though she was different from the rest, uneasy in her approach, unsure of her fingertips that lightly brushed his arm. An unrecognizable timidity crossed her face when she laughed at his awful jokes and smiled innocently at his mundane, cliched compliments. Her eyes penetrated him when they exchanged anecdotes, she peered into a place he was so far removed from he knew it didn't exist. Yet he went through with the selfish, debilitating act. She woke up next to him in the morning and her presence startled him. Usually he opened his eyes to an empty room and a warm spot where a nameless victim previously laid. Demurely pulling up his sheets to her glowing body, she grinned at him with unknowing- purity. He felt sick. Telling her he had to be somewhere soon he feigned agitation as he glanced at the clock by his bed that read 10 AM. Without saying much, she moved quickly, repeatedly apologizing to him, dressed and left, but not before giving him the warmest, most sincere kiss he'd ever received since he moved to the city from his small town. In that single kiss he remembered who he had been and what he had become. She left. He looked in the mirror, trying to see that place she saw. He had been withdrawn for so long he forgot who he was. His face looked haggard and old. Dark circles ringed his eyes- black pools of malcontent and horror. He almost screamed. What had he done? What had he been doing? All these girls. All these people. He began washing his face, gently at first then feverishly, rubbing his face raw, trying to scrub away himself. In his search for affirmation he abandoned thought, feelings, reason. These girls were nothing but meaningless shells in which to hide his vulnerability. With every girl he marginalized he lost a piece of his humanity, a multitude of self-respect. He began to resent them, the girls. They never gave him want he wanted, what he needed. They were instant gratification, fleeting validation, false hope. But in one kiss he saw what he had been suppressing for as long as he could remember, but made a great effort to forget. And until tonight he thought he had.
The music all of a sudden got too loud. The charade on the dance floor turned into a frantic, impassioned fight amongst the sexes, then a mindless, erratic orgy. He felt dizzy. Nauseated. The room spun and he ran to the bathroom past eager faces clutching dollar bills, anxious for another drink, past lusting eyes, past apathy, past fear, past loathing, past everything and everyone that reminded him of himself. He let go of all the guilt, the pain, the anger, the bitterness, staring at it mildly, swirling around in a bowl of indifference. He felt better. Much better.
He sauntered back to the bar, holding himself gently. She stood in front him yet seemed so distant. He looked at her. She looked at him pitifully. He was pathetic, she thought, yet felt a pang of what she didn't know. Maybe it was understanding- or affection. Shuddering nervously, embarrassed by the thought of their passionless night together, she finally broke the awkward silence.
"Hi. How've you been." She had to lean over the bar so he could hear her speak.
"Fine." He lied. She knew he was lying. He looked down at his feet. She smelled how she smelled the night they first met.
"Um," she paused, he looked up imploringly, "Can I get a whiskey ginger?" He stared at her unable to comprehend what she said then finally replied,
"Sure. Yeah," he gave it to her, "It's on me." He said those words, pleading for her forgiveness. She refused his charity and his apology. She finished her drink at the bar, staring into his eyes as she gulped, the whiskey and carbonation burning her throat sweetly. She put the glass down. Waiting a moment, she pierced him again with her eyes. She kissed him. He could taste the whiskey and ginger on her cool lips. His eyes closed, she pulled away, put her money on the bar and left. He stood awe-struck. The music played. He never saw her again.
I'm out.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
To Regret Or Not To Regret? That Is The Question.
I've learned over the years that regrets are as useful as a credit card in a bodega. Soooo I regret nothing. However, I do wonder what the hell goes through my head sometimes when I find myself in wildly inappropriate situations. Then, I succumb to the idea of fate and escape any blame for my actions. haha that's terrible. I've actually never done that, but it sounds like a good idea. hmmmm... Anyway, the week just started and so far so good. I had an excellent weekend with some even more excellent people and learned some things about myself in the process. Yay! Self-discovery can be fun... orrr grossly depressing. My discovery? I am a lover of honesty and forwardness. That's pretty self-explanatory, yes? Gooooood. I'm sure I'm not the only one who doesn't like to be involved in cloudy, misguided events that lead to confusion and ultimately a nauseating realization.
So as not to fall completely into a downtrodden abyss, hating all of humanity and its stupidity, I am going to do some more- gasp- reading and -gasp- writing. I realize I haven't done that for me in a while. The writing, not the reading.
I'm reading a book by Sartre right now called, funnily enough, Nausea, and I think I picked it up at the perfect time in my life. I mean, I was suppose to read it in college... buuuuut.... anyway. Sigh. I didn't okay?! I didn't read it! I dunno how I passed that class, with a B no less! But I did (pats self on back). haha
So this week I will not be going out at all, but staying in my dark room staring at the bright screen of my computer. The light washing over my morose expression as I jot down my ambivalent feelings about life, pressing my memory for words I have been suppressing, avidly digging around my subconscious for serenity. My fingers moving across the keyboard with a fury that is reminiscent of the feelings violently swirling around in my head, without reason or direction. Crying intermittently, tears seeping into my computer, where mechanics meet organics. Ignoring concerned inquiries from friends and family wondering where I've been for days, I will continue to create a shadow of myself through words that only I can see and understand...
JUST KIDDING!!!
I'm actually going to the PIT tomorrow with a bunch of people to see Oscar perform. I can't imagine locking myself in a room like that. I'm no Emily Dickinson (on a variety of levels- she is gawd), I like people. But I will make time to write for myself more often this week, just not at the expense of my sanity. Sometimes though, it is nice to just be alone, relish in solitude. I have absolutely NOTHING against that. There have been times I have found myself cradling my computer rocking back and forth cursing the mercilessness of the world. I mean who hasn't? Right... right... right...right...
Oh boy.
I'm out.
So as not to fall completely into a downtrodden abyss, hating all of humanity and its stupidity, I am going to do some more- gasp- reading and -gasp- writing. I realize I haven't done that for me in a while. The writing, not the reading.
I'm reading a book by Sartre right now called, funnily enough, Nausea, and I think I picked it up at the perfect time in my life. I mean, I was suppose to read it in college... buuuuut.... anyway. Sigh. I didn't okay?! I didn't read it! I dunno how I passed that class, with a B no less! But I did (pats self on back). haha
So this week I will not be going out at all, but staying in my dark room staring at the bright screen of my computer. The light washing over my morose expression as I jot down my ambivalent feelings about life, pressing my memory for words I have been suppressing, avidly digging around my subconscious for serenity. My fingers moving across the keyboard with a fury that is reminiscent of the feelings violently swirling around in my head, without reason or direction. Crying intermittently, tears seeping into my computer, where mechanics meet organics. Ignoring concerned inquiries from friends and family wondering where I've been for days, I will continue to create a shadow of myself through words that only I can see and understand...
JUST KIDDING!!!
I'm actually going to the PIT tomorrow with a bunch of people to see Oscar perform. I can't imagine locking myself in a room like that. I'm no Emily Dickinson (on a variety of levels- she is gawd), I like people. But I will make time to write for myself more often this week, just not at the expense of my sanity. Sometimes though, it is nice to just be alone, relish in solitude. I have absolutely NOTHING against that. There have been times I have found myself cradling my computer rocking back and forth cursing the mercilessness of the world. I mean who hasn't? Right... right... right...right...
Oh boy.
I'm out.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Helloooo NY!!!
I'm baaack!
Packing for my move was so strange. Everything that I experienced and lived in VA was also getting packed away in a different sense, and as I folded clothes and shoved books into my book bag I began to grasp the infallible change that has occurred within me these last months. It really has been like a story, with a definitive beginning, middle, and end along with rising action, klymaxx (haha), and all the rest. And what an extraordinary ending. I left on such a fantastic note.
So here's my life in VA packed away in suitcases and such...
Note how uneasily neat everything appears. It reminds me of Nietzsche's Appolinian/Dionysian feuding dualities. A violently raging, chaotic reality beneath an appearance of perfect serenity.
After months of rehabilitation and self-discovery I find myself back where I started, in the place where it all began- a slowly deteriorating house in Yonkers. Being here makes me feel strange. Not exactly like I'm reverting back to who/what I was before, but a certain sinking feeling, like staying here for any extended amount of time (more than 3 days) will eventually lead to self-destruction. Luckily, I am not staying here, but moving into my apartment in Brooklyn. However, when that is has not been discussed which makes me a tad nervous and slightly irritated. Alas, I cannot complain for my family has been such an extraordinarily dependable entity in my life.
For these past months I have been slightly withdrawn from certain emotional connections for (to me) obvious reasons, but have since shed that defense mechanism because though being numb is sometimes necessary, being in a constant state of aloofness is just plain unhealthy. Though I thought I was protecting myself, there was something I knew was missing. I wasn't entirely whole because I kept myself from feeling. Gah, I love learning. Isn't life awesome?!
And now I am ready to take on the big city! There are so many things I want to realistically accomplish, so again I'm planning and executing. You can call me the executioner (only if you so desire).
I shall leave you with a song I am currently infatuated with...
I LOVE THEM.
I'm out.
Packing for my move was so strange. Everything that I experienced and lived in VA was also getting packed away in a different sense, and as I folded clothes and shoved books into my book bag I began to grasp the infallible change that has occurred within me these last months. It really has been like a story, with a definitive beginning, middle, and end along with rising action, klymaxx (haha), and all the rest. And what an extraordinary ending. I left on such a fantastic note.
So here's my life in VA packed away in suitcases and such...
Note how uneasily neat everything appears. It reminds me of Nietzsche's Appolinian/Dionysian feuding dualities. A violently raging, chaotic reality beneath an appearance of perfect serenity.
After months of rehabilitation and self-discovery I find myself back where I started, in the place where it all began- a slowly deteriorating house in Yonkers. Being here makes me feel strange. Not exactly like I'm reverting back to who/what I was before, but a certain sinking feeling, like staying here for any extended amount of time (more than 3 days) will eventually lead to self-destruction. Luckily, I am not staying here, but moving into my apartment in Brooklyn. However, when that is has not been discussed which makes me a tad nervous and slightly irritated. Alas, I cannot complain for my family has been such an extraordinarily dependable entity in my life.
For these past months I have been slightly withdrawn from certain emotional connections for (to me) obvious reasons, but have since shed that defense mechanism because though being numb is sometimes necessary, being in a constant state of aloofness is just plain unhealthy. Though I thought I was protecting myself, there was something I knew was missing. I wasn't entirely whole because I kept myself from feeling. Gah, I love learning. Isn't life awesome?!
And now I am ready to take on the big city! There are so many things I want to realistically accomplish, so again I'm planning and executing. You can call me the executioner (only if you so desire).
I shall leave you with a song I am currently infatuated with...
I LOVE THEM.
I'm out.
Monday, September 14, 2009
The Drunken Stumbler @ Red Derby
A night to remember. The Drunken Stumbler.
Last night I went out with some people to this awesome little spot called Red Derby in DC. The atmosphere was really chill. Motown music was playing in the background, and the nice chalkboard list of beers was a pleasant alternative to disgustingly sticky drink menus (or no menus at all) that tend to populate bars. There are a nice amount of board games available for customers to play. We chose
which was a fine choice, but I suck at it. So after a few games of all of us losing respectively except for "the jenga master" (he was annoyingly good), we decided instead to play with the blocks. All of us were intently concentrating on our own little creations when it happened. I was hit.
A man who had been sitting at the bar earlier was apparently pounding back beers like a beast and when he got up those beers came and bit him in the ass, making him stumble all the way over to my table where he fell on me. I was stunned as I felt his weight push my body towards the table. I was hurled forward onto the table and let out the most awkward screech EVER. His friends and the bar tender came and got him off of me and immediately asked if I was okay. I laughed. Yeah, I mean, it was funny. Or maybe I'm just really awkward. What else could I do? They looked at me relieved and his friends apologized profusely. The Drunken Stumbler also manager to slur an apology before making his way outside. All I could think about was that scream I made. I wish I could describe it, or better yet gotten it recorded. It was like a delayed reaction, I almost didn't scream at all. It was after the impact I bellowed that ear splitting noise. Hilarious. Sigh. I guess you had to be there.
So the bar tender came over to us, again very apologetically and gave us some beers on the house. At least I got some free beer out of it, right?!
I also made a craigslist ad in missed connections in hopes of contacting what might have been my soul mate.
I started my job today at Ford's Theatre. It's cool there, I think I'm actually pretty excited about it!
Also, I somehow got roped into making a poster for Urban for one of our contests. Shit. I dunno how that happened!
But Urban is having a sick sale for a few weeks so I have to try and not buy everything I can get my hands on.
I'm out.
Last night I went out with some people to this awesome little spot called Red Derby in DC. The atmosphere was really chill. Motown music was playing in the background, and the nice chalkboard list of beers was a pleasant alternative to disgustingly sticky drink menus (or no menus at all) that tend to populate bars. There are a nice amount of board games available for customers to play. We chose
which was a fine choice, but I suck at it. So after a few games of all of us losing respectively except for "the jenga master" (he was annoyingly good), we decided instead to play with the blocks. All of us were intently concentrating on our own little creations when it happened. I was hit.
A man who had been sitting at the bar earlier was apparently pounding back beers like a beast and when he got up those beers came and bit him in the ass, making him stumble all the way over to my table where he fell on me. I was stunned as I felt his weight push my body towards the table. I was hurled forward onto the table and let out the most awkward screech EVER. His friends and the bar tender came and got him off of me and immediately asked if I was okay. I laughed. Yeah, I mean, it was funny. Or maybe I'm just really awkward. What else could I do? They looked at me relieved and his friends apologized profusely. The Drunken Stumbler also manager to slur an apology before making his way outside. All I could think about was that scream I made. I wish I could describe it, or better yet gotten it recorded. It was like a delayed reaction, I almost didn't scream at all. It was after the impact I bellowed that ear splitting noise. Hilarious. Sigh. I guess you had to be there.
So the bar tender came over to us, again very apologetically and gave us some beers on the house. At least I got some free beer out of it, right?!
I also made a craigslist ad in missed connections in hopes of contacting what might have been my soul mate.
I started my job today at Ford's Theatre. It's cool there, I think I'm actually pretty excited about it!
Also, I somehow got roped into making a poster for Urban for one of our contests. Shit. I dunno how that happened!
But Urban is having a sick sale for a few weeks so I have to try and not buy everything I can get my hands on.
I'm out.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
No, you're awesome!
So I'm hanging out with people...YAY. Maybe I won't turn into a socially decrepit old hag! I'm exaggerating. I enjoy exaggerating, it makes life more exciting. I'm kidding... kind of. That sounds like the confession of a habitual liar. I'm not. Promise. Well, shit now you don't trust me haha
Anyway, I haven't updated in a while. I had a decent weekend...FINALLY and got to get to know some more of my coworkers and such. Also, I went to DC to hang out with my friend who I haven't seen in a while, but not before being exposed to an utmost awkward situation where I somehow became a fifth wheel, and had to use my wits to quickly maneuver my way out of that train wreck.. I just told them I was going to leave, but whatevs! I still got out of there fairly unscathed, well maybe leaving a tiny piece of my dignity behind. So I met up with my other friend and we had a nice drink and caught up. We also got to see some intense voguing... I have no idea how to spell that btw. It was really fun to watch.
Today I have work and I should be getting ready and not updating! whoops! I'm going to buy a pair of jeans today... the sickness, may or may not have returned. I will try to suppress it. Wish me luck.
Also, need new music. NEED. Will get on that.
Anyway, I haven't updated in a while. I had a decent weekend...FINALLY and got to get to know some more of my coworkers and such. Also, I went to DC to hang out with my friend who I haven't seen in a while, but not before being exposed to an utmost awkward situation where I somehow became a fifth wheel, and had to use my wits to quickly maneuver my way out of that train wreck.. I just told them I was going to leave, but whatevs! I still got out of there fairly unscathed, well maybe leaving a tiny piece of my dignity behind. So I met up with my other friend and we had a nice drink and caught up. We also got to see some intense voguing... I have no idea how to spell that btw. It was really fun to watch.
Today I have work and I should be getting ready and not updating! whoops! I'm going to buy a pair of jeans today... the sickness, may or may not have returned. I will try to suppress it. Wish me luck.
Also, need new music. NEED. Will get on that.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Alright Alright
So it seems my paranoia has not let up as much as I would have liked. It still shows itself in sneaky ways and I don't realize it's paranoia until too late. sigh. So, my blog name still holds true. I am very much still a paranoid. However, I have gotten tons better considering I don't cower at the thought of happiness. I used to think if I was happy it was all going to come crashing down within minutes. If I allowed my self to just be in the moment and happy, everything would go horribly wrong and it would me my fault! I'm sick. I know. I'm working on it... actively. In the past I always told myself I was "working" on whatever it is that perpetuates these feelings, but now I'm realizing that simply recognizing that it's there is not enough! I need to actively fight these feelings. Also, I think I was harboring these feelings because i felt like they were apart of me, of my personality. Like, "oh, that's chris, she's cool. she's paranoid." horrible.
In other news-
I already got promoted at my new job and i haven't even started yet! haha. i'm going to be a team leader whatever the hell that means, but it sounds cool. I really like my boss she seems super nice. Life's good right now and I'm enjoying it. All I need to do now is get out of my aunt's. she's taken to bothering me about eating again, and of course has something to say about my fervent desire to get out of the house. Let me go people! Let me go!
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