Started out o.k. humpty dumpty. Made it to the coffee shop to work on my life’s blueprint. The gorgeous coffee girl who gives great personal attention was there. Saw an old co-worker friend there from oh about 9 years ago. Made it to the gym and beat the shit out of the punching bags (I’ve only done this 3 times now, but beating on punching bags is becoming my fav), working on destroying some perceptions. Took a nap in the middle of campus. Drove up to Vidabou, too much snow, so went to Happy Jack. Did a little walk in the nowhere, got to a sitting/viewing spot, starting talking out loud, and then cried.
NOT like the day before, where after leaving Beauty and the Beast, I was getting deeply emotionally sad about being lonely, was going to put on some music in my car accordingly, but my phone decided to start with “Kings Never Die” and continue with Macklemore’s “Thrift Shop.” The music clashed with my emotions, but usually I support the notion of “when weird fate intervenes, go with it, at least for a little bit.” What happened was my deep heavy emotions transmuted (yes, I think this is a bit of some real alchemy here folks…done it a few times, but only a few, so not really sure how it goes, but it’s good shit) into some heavy somewhat-badass-somewhat-mad-but-super-focused-goodness.
Not so with Happy Jack. Let loose with victim tears. However, one small little tiny hopeful thought en route back to car was “You can’t be lonely, Daniel, because I’m here.” Like, I don’t know how many ya’all are fond of splitting yourself up, but I LOVE IT. So here, it’s one part of me saying to another part of me “Through thick and thin, I got your back. I won’t leave you. Regardless of people, regardless of dose fockin’ Angels, etc., I WILL BE WITH YOU ALWAYS.” Reminded me of one idea I had a monthish ago of spending more time with the notion of “The Warrior and the Boy.” The Boy is awesome, but if the Warrior goes off charging somewhere leaving the Boy unprotected, he becomes very sad (and the fockin’ Warrior DOES have a huge habit of charging off places).
More crying at home. Watched the movie “Gone Baby Gone.” (I guess it was Ben’s director debut. Is anyone else SUPER HAPPY that he’s gone from getting made fun of for ‘Pearl Harbor’ to becoming a badass director? Is he a producer too? I really don’t know what producers do…).
Now it was 9:45pm ish. Nothing left to do. Earlier I had wanted to play a perception game, see if I could create a perception for myself along the lines of “excited to go to the bar” or “excitedly believing I might fuck.” And if I achieved that perception, I’d go out. If not, oh well, then I’d stay in. Didn’t try to create the perception. Probably because I went to Vidavou instead. Whatever. Tried to sleep. Sleep seems to be the drug of choice (at least for me) when I’m despairing and nothing in life sounds worth doing. I do *NOT* support it. Fuckin’ sleep if you’re tired, but NOT when you’re wide awake. For anyone that’s ever been locked up in something like an institution, maybe you also found it disgusting how they drug people to sleep for days. “They’re recovering” say the doctors/staff/nurses. Bull-fucking-shit I think…they’re fucking zombies.
There is a reason why depressed people sleep A LOT and they struggle to even get out of bed. And the reason is NOT because “they need their rest.” Stupidestfuckingthinga’kjdkfoiaufdjflk;dj.
Woke up at 2am.
Fuck that too.
Often, I’m excited to wake up in the middle of the night, because it’s often a calling for something special. Fockin’ Spirits woke me up…they don’t do it just to fuck with you (well, maybe for you, but I have not experienced such before, to my awareness).
But I was not pleased…still depressing funk. Sat on the couch for a bit, staring at the wall or my space around my apartment. Eventually pulled open one of my old journals from way back when…two points came up:
- As I rode on a train next to a cutie, I wrote about her and worried that if she saw what I was writing, if she would think I was a creep.
- David Burns & daily schedules
The #1 doesn’t fit into this story, but I’ll just say “fuck that mentality of EVER wondering if you are being creepy.” At the stop light on my way to the library today, I saw two young college girls in yoga pants waiting to cross the street. Cute. And the nice yoga pants, where the ass is perfectly showing, and maybe even a little bit of cooter (that’s one of the words for vagina, right?). But I couldn’t keep staring if I wanted to, because “someone might see” (I think she even might have when she looked hahah…maybe she just looked to see if it was safe to cross), “and think I was a creep.” Now here’s the FUCKING REALITY OF IT PEOPLE…These girls CHOSE to wear yoga pants. Yup, their choice. Good for them. But MY EYES are MY CHOICE. And WHERE I decide to put MY EYES…IS NEVER CREEPY.
Yeah…sure it feels a little weird for people to look at you, or even stare at you. I’m actually quite fascinated by WHY THIS IS…(easy to come up with a few solid theories). But GUESS WHAT. It’s out of your control. Not up to you. For your whole life, people are gonna look. So this is where we put on our big boy-and-girl pants and deal with it, right?
ANYWAYS…(lol see how easy it is for my mind to get off topic?)
PLANNING is what I was up for, what would take me out of my present funk.
(TO BE CONTINUED IN “PLANNING FOR DREAMERS”)