I'm not a particularly organised person. That is, while I try to keep things in order and have some sort of structure with my life and the things I do, it is often unsuccessful. And, now that I'm 20 years old I kind of really hoped that I would have it all figured out. You know. Myself. I also secretly hope that other people my age are just as baffled about these things as I am because I'm constantly afraid of falling behind in this weird imaginary race I have against time. It's completely irrational but I've seen a random strand of grey hair on my head the other day so maybe that's what continues to cloud my judgement.
Don't get me wrong. I'm trying really hard to be an organised person. I've watched youtube videos of people organising things (that just made me feel like an inadequate person compared to these extremely organised youtube vloggers), I've read those weird wiki-how articles that for some reason always have accompanying visuals despite the subject matter being super mundane (this is not a complaint, I love the visuals). But I just end up being riddled with dozens of post it notes and pages of journals with the phrase "to do" with unticked boxes underneath. And the fact that there are dozens of them serve as a tangible reminder of the things I haven't accomplished. So what do I do now? I don't want to make another list because then it will just add onto the file of the things I haven't done. Maybe I should write a blog post about it. That definitely solves things.
Saturday 3 October 2015
Tuesday 23 June 2015
Not emotionally sound (a kind of self analysis).
Most of the time, especially at this point in time, I feel like something is wrong with me. Which is both weird and not at all unusual for a person to think. Generally I see people and think they're having a normal, super fun exciting life but that's just an assumption I make based on what I see of those people. Like they could have a mini zoo of a taxidermy collection in their basement that they like to gaze broodingly at during the night while they sip some sort of dark liquor from a crystal glass-- WE WILL NEVER KNOW.
I want to say that I understand how everyone doesn't feel quite right all the time, but that's a thing that I also don't know. We see so much in films and the media and whatever minimalistic conceptual art installation in some contemporary museum that people have a sense of dysfunction. And other people who consume this content will look at these things and relate to them with a deep exhale of "Ahh, yes, the feeling of isolation and anxiety. Here's $10,000 I want that on my wall." And that's totally fine. If you have the money and you enjoy art that's cool I feel like I might offend some people.
Recently I've observed something about myself. While I had an uncomfortable talk with another person. I realise that I don't really know how to convey emotion in a completely sincere and honest way. I can't show this person that I care about them or myself. I'm not entirely sure how I feel.
I care about what people think. I care about what I think (obviously, I have this blog and many self-involved stories to prove that). But is that really caring about another person? As I'm writing right now I'm thinking of the people who might read this (and my other posts) and what they'll think about me as a person. Is this post too self involved?
Overall writing this feels kind of like an exhale as well, I guess. A smaller exhale, like a little huff after running after your bus but you missed it so you sigh in disappointment but there's another one in 3 minutes so it's not that bad. Not worth $10,000.
I want to say that I understand how everyone doesn't feel quite right all the time, but that's a thing that I also don't know. We see so much in films and the media and whatever minimalistic conceptual art installation in some contemporary museum that people have a sense of dysfunction. And other people who consume this content will look at these things and relate to them with a deep exhale of "Ahh, yes, the feeling of isolation and anxiety. Here's $10,000 I want that on my wall." And that's totally fine. If you have the money and you enjoy art that's cool I feel like I might offend some people.
Recently I've observed something about myself. While I had an uncomfortable talk with another person. I realise that I don't really know how to convey emotion in a completely sincere and honest way. I can't show this person that I care about them or myself. I'm not entirely sure how I feel.
I care about what people think. I care about what I think (obviously, I have this blog and many self-involved stories to prove that). But is that really caring about another person? As I'm writing right now I'm thinking of the people who might read this (and my other posts) and what they'll think about me as a person. Is this post too self involved?
Overall writing this feels kind of like an exhale as well, I guess. A smaller exhale, like a little huff after running after your bus but you missed it so you sigh in disappointment but there's another one in 3 minutes so it's not that bad. Not worth $10,000.
Thursday 16 April 2015
It's been that long (Let me unload everything in this on post).
Hello again. Wow this is getting kind of repetitive. I haven't really written anything in a while-- not because I've been particularly busy or chasing my dreams in a movie-montage- scenario (seriously how cool would that be thought, right? Super cool.)
It's because I forgot. Like, I've literally just forgotten about this blog that I wrote a bunch of dumb and sometimes introspective-- mostly existential-level of idiocy. Though I don't really regret having a blog because it's good to keep a record of thoughts on things and maybe someone will stumble across it while doing a quick google search for dragon pictures and read about this other person struggling with their laptop charger. Also, to read back at what I've written and cringe/cry/laugh at how absurd I sounded a little bit ago.
I don't promise to write everyday or anything but it feels nice to be writing in here again and that this space is still a thing. It's pretty cool.
How did I use to sign out? PEACE. DROP THE MIC.
Still not cool enough to pull that off. Nothing much changed.
It's because I forgot. Like, I've literally just forgotten about this blog that I wrote a bunch of dumb and sometimes introspective-- mostly existential-level of idiocy. Though I don't really regret having a blog because it's good to keep a record of thoughts on things and maybe someone will stumble across it while doing a quick google search for dragon pictures and read about this other person struggling with their laptop charger. Also, to read back at what I've written and cringe/cry/laugh at how absurd I sounded a little bit ago.
I don't promise to write everyday or anything but it feels nice to be writing in here again and that this space is still a thing. It's pretty cool.
How did I use to sign out? PEACE. DROP THE MIC.
Still not cool enough to pull that off. Nothing much changed.
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