Don Some Rose Colored Glasses Already, Self

As I was driving to campus the other day I saw this:

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I’m not a religious person. More often than not I find myself scoffing at what I consider to be half-hearted platitudes promoted by the Christian church to distract or otherwise disguise the inherent flaws in the practice of their belief system. However, I also recognize that it takes all kinds, even within institutions that make me negatively react in a knee-jerky way. And though I’m not religious, I do consider myself spiritual, to a degree, and I think that sometimes our subconscious points out things of relevancy to us, as it works tirelessly to reconcile our internal conflicts.

I’ve been spewing forth a lot of misanthropic and self-loathing cynical shit lately, guys. Looking back on my posts for the past few weeks, I’ve definitely felt I had more to cry over than laugh about. Which is, admittedly, incredibly biased and definitely ‘firstworldproblem-y.’ The main role this blog plays in my life is as an emotional outlet. It’s my virtual diary of sorts, where I push all those negative thoughts out of my head so they can’t cloud my judgment (as much). That being said, I hate that there’s been these poo-ey grey  shadows dulling my brightly lit wallpaper, because the other goal of this blog is to share the entirety of my life with you, not just the bad parts. Besides, at the end of the day I know I’m a bit of a drama queen, and some of my writing exacerbates that aspect of my personality. Like I said, this is my outlet for all the pent-up, extremist crazy that swirls around in my frontal lobe, threatening to fuck everything up if I don’t let it seep through my creative pores à la my keyboard (since I have no other artistic capabilities to speak of, really). Yet, as… ‘wronged?’ as I have felt lately, I want you guys to know that I don’t always feel the feels I divulge here. Actually, after a particularly vehement prose expulsion, my mind often quiets down into a zen-like hibernation, my thoughts finally shushed for the moment.

I can be an intense person. I laugh hard, I love hard, I party hard… and apparently I work hard? I never considered myself to be particularly motivated, but according to many of my friends (who looked utterly flabbergasted at this gap in self-knowledge), I’m an ambitious lil’ brat. When it comes to my ‘career’ path, the main thing I know is that I refuse to have a job(s) where I end up (in the words of Frank Turner) “slaving 50 years away on something that [I] hate.” I won’t do it, dammit. I’ve worked that menial salary job, and the thought of dragging my feet back to that cubicle fat and old is just… it’s like…

The inevitable downside of this, is that sometimes this intensity can work against me, i.e. my ongoing struggles with depression and anxiety, coupled with an innate phobia of loneliness and/or alienation. That fire inside can burn as much as it can feed, and sometimes it’s my kryptonite. For example, apparently I’m really fucking hard on myself, to the point where some of my internal monologue is borderline emotionally abusive. I didn’t really comprehend the severity of it until I let someone close to me really see it in its entirety. Slightly aghast, they beseeched me, “Why, why, why are you so hard on yourself? You’re not lazy, or stupid, or a bad person at all!”

Almost exasperated, Poofl has said to me : “I don’t know how to convince you of how awesome you are, when it’s so obvious to me! I mean, you know the list: funny, smart, honest, fun, loving, educated, full of sass and crass and fire. Able to quote movies after 1 viewing, cultured, approachable, DAT ASS. I almost want to hit you on the head with a mirror and see if that helps! But seriously, you are great and I truly wish I could just wave a wand and let you see it, really see it, and believe it too.”

Sometimes I do, but I haven’t yet found a way to make it more permanent than ephemeral. I look forward to the days when I don’t feel as emotionally volatile… and the fact that I still live to see that remain a foreseeable hope and not a pipe dream counts for something…

 

An additional side note for consideration: 10 Things You Need to Know Before You Date an Old Soul – Brianna Wiest

While I do consider myself a little too juvenile to fully embrace the ‘old soul’ moniker, I will say that I did relate to most of these points… and so I say I’m an old soul in training, one that hasn’t yet finished puberty. Because I still think fart jokes are funny, or something. I guess the overarching intent for this post was to remind myself, and hopefully my readers, that I’m not always so pissed off, I’m not always so angry and hurt and wounded. Even when I do feel that way, part of me (abusively) reprimands myself for the shortsightedness of it all. Sometimes that acknowledgement makes it better in the interim, sometimes it makes it worse. I don’t know. I just know that life inside my head is hard sometimes. It can be full of land mines as much as rainbows, and sometimes I unwittingly step on one, and before I know it I’ve exploded all over the virtual page. Oh well. All I know is today started out beautiful, with a strong cup of coffee, a fall-happy ensemble, and a really good start to my Pandora station. Here’s to a moment I spent donning the rose-colored glasses.

 

Current Quote: “Be kind; everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle”

 

Current Jam: “Life on the Nickel” Foster the People (fun fact: the first few times I heard this song I was convinced the lyric was “I’m awesome,” not “I’m hustling”… and although normally I will never turn down an opportunity to utilize the term ‘hussle’ in my vernacular, I still prefer to sing it the first way)

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