memorialrainbow: (bell what's out there)
Writing again because I inherited the laptop at work and I have a chance to think. I'd be writing in the records, but at least this way I can work and make phone calls at the same time.

It occurred to me last night again that I take everything too seriously. Even something I guess as fun as karaoke has to be a performance, and I should be ashamed if I don't do my best in it. After waking up like a mess this morning, I gave myself a hard time about it until I realized what I didn't know until last night: that letting yourself off the hook is the key to being human.

I'm not fully here. I feel like I'm in the longest (though thankfully not most severe) panic attack ever. I'm a little ghosty. I'm disocciating but I'm going in and out. I called in and said I was sick, which is true but more from a mental health standpoint than a physical health standpoint. I feel like all of my strength has been sapped. But thankfully my spirit is okay. I refuse to be the victim in this situation. I'm not going to beat myself up, but I'm not going to go super soft on myself as well.

They're helping me out today. I feel like I'm getting more done. Then I'm gonna stop by MJ's and then go home and work on the jeans I'm currently wearing. And I'll be okay. I'll always be okay.
memorialrainbow: (Default)
Stayed out way too late last night. Did NOT get drunk but left at 2 and got home at 4 because the trains sucked. I dreamed that my ex was at the gym and he leaned over and hugged me and I tried to squirm away, but I couldn't. And then I learned he was working there now and would be closing with me, and I put him to work doing something upstairs, marched downstairs to the manager's office, and said to the manager, "Who the flying hell hired my abusive ex?"

Today is gonna suck.
memorialrainbow: (Default)
When did I turn into someone
who forgot how to feel?

If you feel angry and sorrow, please don't blame me.

If you don't want to hear the words I have to say,
I'll turn them into a song only I can hear.

There are lots of things you wouldn't understand,
but there's a lot they don't understand.
How many of their pain can I handle?
Can I handle it at all?

It's rough, isn't it?
To take in the platinum world with your own eyes --
but it's better than searching for truth
in a world that doesn't exist, right?

The voice inside of me already knows where I am to go,
wherever I want.

If you don't want to hear the words I have to say,
I'll turn them into a song only I can hear,
into a voice that I hope finally reaches your ears.

After all,
it's better than searching for truth
in a world that doesn't exist.
memorialrainbow: (Default)
Scene Shifts There
a really creative nonfiction

A lonely scientist created a robot; when he finished, he called it a miracle. )

We don't have enough data to call it alcohol abuse --
uh, we have no way of knowing, um,
if these are the only two incidents that have ever occurred
in the history of the HyperSong corps
or if there is the tip of a very large iceberg.
memorialrainbow: (Default)

Can I get my 2011 back? 2012 has kind of sucked so far. I got the floor pulled out from under me on the five train -- late, late, FUCKING LATE. And my new work schedule, while I like it, has me dog-tired.

I'd like to talk about two things tonight.

The first is food.

Oh, em, gee. I just went to Fairway to get some perishables and I'm so glad I did. I feel so much better now that I've arrived home with tomatoes and celery. I'm pretty sure I'm obsessed with both; so tonight for dinner I had chicken salad with celery, along with about a half a tin of grape tomatoes (addicting!!!) and a bit of hummus and ranch. I'm slowly getting used to hummus. It's weird, but good. I just have to tell myself it's peas. Right? Maybe?

The other thing I'm noticing is that I'm not who I once was.

There's a disappointing difference between Ohio-Emily and New York-Emily. When I see me in Ohio, I see me in Brookover, hanging out in my apartment, eating food and watching TV and sitting down. When I see me in New York, I see me running to the ferry. Every time. That's just one of the things that has changed. Before all of this happened, I thought I was incapable of change. I was going around in the same circle, over and over again, the same rut and everything.

When everything started happening that summer, when my life changed...I can't explain it. Even now, a half of a year later. Although there is someone I need to thank for it -- and that person really is Dylan. See, if Dylan hadn't been such a dick and moved to Madison this summer to pursue his dreams, I wouldn't have gotten so pissed off at him. And I mean, I was really pissed off at him, because I had spent all that time waiting for him to graduate from Miami and NOW HE WAS LEAVING ME FOR AN ENTIRE SUMMER. What had happened to us going together?

But I figured, hey, he could go and get his foot in the door, and then either he can come home and stop dreaming those crazy dreams or he could become rich and famous and move me out there. And so I let it slide. Until I realized that by letting Dylan move, I had lost my riding buddy. And there was no way in hell I was going to let the summer pass me by without going to the Point at least once.

That was mid-June, when I saddled up my car and went to Cedar Point all by myself, because I could. The extreme success of that trip (known as the Royal Tour) led to the road trip to Madison for New Years. (For those of you who have lived under a rock, my New Year is July 16th at 10:00 PM. Every year. Don't ask why. There's a Chinese New Year, there's a Jewish New Year, and I get my own, too.) During this trip, I learned a lot about myself -- that I could drive with an eyelash in my eye, that I was capable of driving a car cross-state, and most importantly, that I could go to New York City all by myself. That was, honestly, the scariest thing I'd ever done.

(It was also during this trip that the 'ride warrior' idea that Cedar Fair has so fantastically planted in everybody's mind took root, and the entire drive home was spent immersed in a post-apocalyptic Point with a New York chick named after a coaster. YES, THUNDERBOLT, I AM LOOKING AT YOU.)

But more about that scary thing. I feel like my entire life, I've been able to hide behind what's easy, because I do it so well. I'm talking about my music. Whenever it came up, for a choice or what not, I was like, "Oh, I'll just do music with my life." It was never hard, because music was like breathing. So I went through life without a lot of trouble. The first trouble I really came up against was when I didn't want to become famous, so I moved home after graduating from Miami and started working at the Job. And even then, all I did was beat myself up.

Going into that city by myself...that was the scariest thing I had ever done. It reminded me of the first time I got on the Vortex. Anything else was like not living. I had to do it.

Back to my story, and then I'll talk more about how life = hard. If it weren't for Dylan, I wouldn't have driven to Madison and discovered all those things about myself. I really am capable of more than I thought. That's what I told myself then.

And then, in the space of one night...something really, seriously catastrophic happened. I don't like talking about it. Some people have an idea. TTR readers know what it is. It's a secret. And it has nothing to do with Dylan. But what happened that Thursday night was so life-changing that I had no choice but to move to New York as a result. What I had lost was so important that I couldn't wait to find it again.

That part of my life has been completed, and as a result, I'm now here. The Ohio Emily mentality is long gone. And Dylan is still here. He still pisses me off, and he pisses me off a lot, actually. But I love him. The cycle of hatred and misunderstanding has been broken, and I am confident in saying that Dylan isn't going anywhere.

He's that into me.

From what I've learned this summer, I want life to be hard. I want to take ownership and understand how life works, to do my own taxes and pay my own rent and not have anybody else do it for me. To 'drive myself.' Whatever that takes, I'll get there. I'll become a published author, and I want to work on my career in music, too. Not a fame-based career, something more along the lines of teaching or writing professionally. Something to keep me going until I find my way.

Until then, I have the Job. I understand that writing takes time. So I better get good at this Job -- not because it's something to do, but because I really do like it. And I love being there. It's enough that I think I'll move to the Island -- I still hate it, and I'd want to live close to the ferry, but not in a house, Aoiko. And perhaps from here, I can really, truly rebuild my life the way I want it.

I have Dylan to thank for that. I really do. I love you, so much. I normally don't gush about it a whole lot, and especially not on this blog. You changed me, sweetheart, for the better. Thank you.

And to you. You know who you are. You showed me that my life could be rebuilt, with the truth. I would follow you, and I will follow you, no matter where you go.

Because of you, I am never alone.

Thank you.

February 2017



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