musings
Hmm. Pondering. I feel a bit more creative now that my room is finished. I used to hate changing things up, but now all I want to do is experiment with moving things around and painting and lighting and everything. I did a small mediocre painting of a jellyfish today (mediocre because I used watercolors on a piece of white cardboard) but I'm just experimenting with splattering and dripping and all those fun wasteful methods. I've got to loosen up :)
Been reading a lot lately. Since Christmas I've finished the last two books of the Hunger Games series, Flowers for Algernon, Cat's Cradle, Room, and a few others. I'm going to finish A Confederacy of Dunces before I start the other Vonnegut book I bought, Breakfast for Champions. I also have another Deb Caletti book on there too (there meaning the Kindle, which I adore) because I like how she writes.
I've realized if I finish a book, I can't start another until I've slept. I stay in the mood I'm in after I finish the book. After Room it was a childish kind of way, and I really did notice myself using simpler language and phrases. After Algernon was the hardest to recover from, and I was in a funk for quite a while. But Mockingjay was wonderful, I was blossoming with happiness and optimism (not EXACTLY a spoiler, so don't point fingers at me).
I was also in a foul mood yesterday because of some thoughts that just keep running through my head. I won't say much, but... well, here's what I've come up with. The trich keeps happening because other people force me to care. I get overly anxious about them caring and relieve the stress with that destructive behavior. Then they force me to care and I get more anxious... a circle. I know I could never say anything to change anyone's mind, but the true way to solve my problems would be to just pretend they didn't exist. Nobody really wants to accept that as an option, but it's been eating me up that I've realized I finally am ok with it myself. I don't care if anyone else isn't ok, but they don't have to point it out and make me feel more self-conscious. The tiny hole in my pants became a gaping monstrosity I could fit my entire hand through in a matter of months... I just now accidentally ruined a couch cushion (I'll fix it). Some people bring out their anxiety on the people around them and blame them for their feelings... I just quietly ruin myself and things with loose strings. Everybody has stress and this is how I deal with it, and I would be perfectly fine with that if only I could truly know everyone else didn't care nearly as much as I used to think they did. People assure me of my true anonymity and then go ahead and point out all these things everyone will notice right as soon as they look at me... jeez.
Well, there's that. Phew.
I've also been thinking about my life as a whole. No, really :) I'm nearly 16 and that's what we do. And perhaps I seek answers to questions I've not even thought of yet, but... well, here's this. I believe life is special. I don't believe that we're "special" just as humans on little dinky planet Earth, but Life itself is indeed special. I've stopped with the intense, despairing pessimism of just being a little old human on a little rock in space, and although the realization is still true, I've come to think of it as a little comforting in my own sense. I used to have wildly fantastic dreams of the working world, what it would take to make a life worthwhile... being important. And, in a way, the comfort of being just one person revolving around a star in a galaxy makes it easier to comprehend the bare minimum of living a happy life and still getting by. I don't have to be a famous author. I could write fortunes for fortune cookies, live in a little apartment, have a few cats and see a matinee movie once in a while. As long as I share my life with someone... validate that my happiness wasn't just a dream... it's ok. And, in a way, that problem is already solved :) I am truly at my own will.
I think it takes a lifetime to fully understand that the journey is what is most important. And I also keep thinking of the Into the Wild movie about Christopher McCandless... how at the end he understands that happiness is meant to be shared. I hate people (most people) but yes, it is meant to be shared. If we are nothing but nothing, what does it matter having some fun with each other while we're here?
I'm not sure entirely what I mean just yet but I'm sure it'll pop up again soon. The rush of high school and education will fly by and then it will just be me making my own choices and being my own person. I'm not exactly sure I'll be ready for that when it happens, but I'm never really ready for anything, am I?
I can do what I want and get away with it because it's me, and I live with my choices... both good and bad. I will mess things up and do things wrong but that's ok because I know I'm responsible for myself. I can't control how I feel or think or even act in most cases, but hopefully that's just being my age. Anywho, it's late and I am tired. No school tomorrow, I have no finals to take, and then Tuesday off too. Time to start repairing everything :)
Goodnight.