Oh who cares

It used to be that when I got tired everything was the end of the world.

I can't find my keys = I must destroy everything.
Joyous laughter* = I must slam things.
Touch me again** = Imminent destruction.
I have a lot of work to do = I think I'll cry now.

EVERYTHING is something that can cause an overreaction. I'm one more hour of missed sleep away from becoming a raving lunatic.

Well, I say used to be. Most of that is still true, but I'm finding that it's beginning to change ever so slightly. Where dealing with other humans only produces uncalled for angry outbursts, there is a nonchalance, if you will, that is sprouting up.

Lately, missing sleep has me seeking a more permanent resting place. No self-harm or anything. I'm just finding a rather acute awareness of my and everyone else's limited time on Earth.

You annoy me = One day I'll die.
Someone is hateful = One day they'll die.
Humans remain uncooperative = Still a 100% chance of death and being forgotten.
Telling me you are better than me = When we die, none of this will matter.

Things just keep pointing towards our similar chances of dying and being forgotten. In this state, I find myself repeatedly asking myself why anything matters. Who cares, right? As humans we are programmed to care about ourselves. In fact, the only reason we seek to correct others is because we feel it affects us. Isn't that right? What would it matter if I decide instead to not worry about any of it? We are all going to die. None of this will matter in the end. Who really cares?

I do, of course. I care, albeit from a completely selfish standpoint. I care and I won't realize it until I get some much needed sleep.





*Laughter, closely followed by music, is purely one of my favorite things in the world.
**Me upset over people touching me? I am constantly invading everyone's personal space. I have absolutely no ground to stand on with this and I know it.

The place of my dreams

My soul aches for places that I've never been. Places that don't entirely make sense. I feel it striking a nerve deep within as I stare. in longing, at places that I have only seen in pictures. Cruel pictures that tell a thousand words and hold a million, but refuse to tell me where I can find them.

This isn't middle Earth that I am talking about. I'm not longing to be at Hogwarts or even in some ethereal forest. I want books. No, not the places books paint in my mind when I peruse them. Actual books. Walls and walls of books. This longing has gotten so out of hand that I'm starting to feel crazy.

This is crazy.

Or at least I try to tell myself it's crazy in order to snap some sense into me, but my mind's whimsy always wins out and I'm back to square one.

I'm back to wanting to walk down this aisle.

Or turn the corner and linger here for a bit.

I don't know what I'll find. It doesn't matter at this point. I'll be way past lost and won't care at all.

Maybe further exploration will bring me to this.

However, none of this compares to the place I find myself staring into with the most longing. Hours of research have brought me no closer to figuring out where this mythical beauty lies. I don't know what continent or if it's public or private. I do know that it's an illogical collection. I realize that half of the books are unreachable due to everything being so overrun. None of that matters.

I want to go home here. I want to get lost. I want to find out how many genres are represented. I want to know how this place smells. What is around the corner. What is under the table. What is on the other side of the wall and behind the camera. These things, I want to know.

Take me here.

You may never be hear from me again. Though to be fair, for some that would be a bonus. Who cares? Just click on that beauty are really take it all in.

Six years of a troubled mind

I say. There is a slight danger in writing down your life events as they happen to you. Apparently no amount of time and growth can truly disconnect you from the fear, shame and hopelessness you have once felt. Even when time dulls the pain, of it can still make you sick to your stomach. Or at least it can for me.

I've made it my mission to finally finish up my current journal. Due to irregular entry schedules and the size of the book, I've been writing in it for six years. With coming to an end I feel compelled to peruse some of the earlier entries. This book started in some of the darkest times of my life so far. All the evidence I'd ever need to display how truly lost I was and, to an extent, still am is there. The lowest of my lows. My terrible decisions that I wrote down as a way of relieving my mind. All of it is there.

I know that it felt right when I wrote it. I know that it isn't a over-exaggeration of my feelings. Reading it back now scares me a bit. While I didn't do any self-harm, I still wish that someone had seen this and helped. Obviously I got through and am not doing so badly anymore.

It just upsets me that I can read it back and still feel so small.

When I finish this journal I'll keep it where I can find it. I know that there is only up from where I was. If I ever need reminding I can simply ask myself if things are as bad as that journal.

For tonight.

I've decided to fill the whole in my chest with drink.

A foolish thing to say but it keeps the longing at bay. Right this moment I can't get out of the hole I've fallen into. This night does not offer any solutions to my problems. Waking up tomorrow with the fresh take on life will be the best time for me to tackle the shame, regret, disgust, fear, and sadness.

That is tomorrow. I still have to contend with tonight.

I will leave the longing in the bottom of the glass. I will send a flame through it and remind myself that I can feel something other than emptiness.

Tonight I want to be less aware.

Tonight I want to be more subdued. For one night I want to wrap myself up in something that isn't my own worry and fear. I want to forget the contemplation and manage the impossible of feeling less yet experiencing more.

I want to tell myself I am not alone and believe it with a ferocity that destroys even the beginning embers of doubt.

And tonight, even if only for tonight, I will have this. I will climb out of my hole in which I have fallen. I will fill my emptiness and I will quell the longing. I will give into silencing it for a night even if it will only come back more unassailable tomorrow.

Tonight my weakness wins.

You will find me racing to the bottom of the glass.

Acrtic Monkeys? Don't mind if I do.

Part of me wants to go through a play by play of the concert. Another part of me wants to express my new found love for yet another band. I'm sure there are a plethora of other parts of me that want to go over all the different things that occurred to be whilst I listened to the Arctic Monkeys play live last night. The part that wins is the one that just wants to throw a bunch of pictures around with little narration. Here we go.

The opening band played with enough funk and passion to make me want to look them up afterwards. Mini Mansions. Right after they turned on the sign showing their name the person I was with turned to me and asked, "who are they again?" I told them but still feel as though I should have ribbed them a bit.

The Arctic Monkeys took the stage to what I felt was quite a bit of smoke. It was later explained with a visual display. I will not question them again.

Helders made me very happy to be in attendance. Although I do wonder if he realizes that when he gears up for the next song he hits a beat that puts me in the mindset to hear the Black Keys. That, of course, is a bonus as I love the Black Keys.

We cheered so much. I think they started with Do I Wanna Know? I just can't remember. The very first song was from AM because I remember being surprised that they started out that way.

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I considered that the smoke would mean a light show like you wouldn't believe. I was right. Brainstorm had some seriously psychedelic flashing lights. That song being fast to begin with pairing it with the lights really took me to another level of being at this concert.

I appreciated the incorporation of the album cover with the initials of the band.

Since I didn't want to be one of the hundreds of people who were experiencing the show through their camera lense, I kept my camera off for a solid 80% of the show. However green lights were something I had to capture.

At this point I think I'd tuned into how much of a ham Alex Turner is when performing. He knew exactly what to say to get the squealers in the audience to lose their minds. His hip swivel that that emphasized what he was saying helped too.

Still wondering about the smoke levels.

I'll give it to them, the stage looked cool. My camera wasn't up to capturing what my eyes could see, but I loved trying all the same.

Afraid that it would translate well in pictures I took a video of the explanation of the smoke. Basically, it ended up being a light show like you wouldn't believe. So cool. The guys did that thing that bands do where they walked off stage for three minutes just to come back and play more songs. I don't understand this but I'm glad I knew they were coming back. I didn't realized until they closed the show with it that they hadn't played R U Mine?. That song live has been an object of my desire for months. They rocked it and I left in a state of euphoria.

Sitting on my chest

My stomach hurts. I keep getting pulsing pains from the base of my skull. I feel like crying which only gets stronger the longer I sit in silence. This is the time I usually think about my failed attempts at college. It's also the time where I think about the jobs that I have which only seem to fill me with anxiety. The only desire I have is to burrow deep in my covers in bed and forget it all. That, of course, is a terrible idea because it gives me the chance to keep torturing myself with these toxic thoughts of failing at life.

Why does it have to be like this? Why is it a constant cycle of being okay, of coping, of handling things and then this? This feeling as though the earth had given beneath my feet and I'm falling. I fall into this pit where I can do nothing right. Where I have done nothing right.

Even though I know it isn't true it's really hard to shake this despair. Things are okay. I'm all right. Right? God, it doesn't feel like it.

Holy smokes!

I want to shout expletives and type them in huge, bold letters to convey the amount of excitement I'm feeling at the moment. Somehow "oh boy" just isn't cutting it. I've been going on for weeks about PoPS. I've explained the reasons why I don't mind being a fan of the creator. Plus I think the story is gold and enjoy going on the journey with them as they pull it together.

They launched a campaign to fund the latest episode. The penultimate episode that is to do some serious explaining to a lot of the questions we've been asking for years. It's incredible. The campaign is crowd funded, which should have clued me in to what was to happen. In the first hours of the campaign they (I keep wanting to say we for some reason) raised about three thousand dollars. Which is incredible but only 16% of what was needed. The first few days saw a steady rate of giving and then the middle of the campaign hit. Cue this girl biting her fingernails.

Side note: I know that if the goal wasn't reached we, the fans, would still get an episode. I just want this to be as stress-free for the creators as possible. I don't want them to have to figure out a dozen or so workaround because budget is an issue from the beginning. I want them to have all that they need. I want this even when I know plenty of kick ass substitutes will happen if need be. I digress.

It's usually the case in crowd-funded projects that in the middle there is a plateau. There's a spike in giving at the beginning, a lull in the middle and sometimes a surge of last minute donations. The lull always makes me nervous. Which is good I guess, because when I get nervous I get to marketing. Whether or not it helps, I share links and repost videos to the point of annoyance to anyone who knows me and feebly hope for the best.

I did all this for PoPS. I begged, pleaded and sat around watching things inch along. I woke up this morning checking for progress. 80% with less than two days. I checked it at lunch with the same number of donations only fewer hours left. I checked it again and boom!

After the initial almost shouts for joy (I was in public), I'm back to being nervous. There's still one more day.