Man. i havent blogged in so long. im not even sure if i like this whole blogspot setup being so alien to me. i like live journal. i miss live journal. but ive decided i need to let that one go. reading those posts made me realize just how much ive grown. how different i am now. and yet how ive retained alot of things that i thought i would have let go by now. needless to say, im not using my LJ account anymore because i want a change (*gasp!* i know. me? want change? this is a new thing...) and ive decided to walk out on my past. at least begin to let it go. little by little. of course not the people i love and care about... never. that would be seriously ridiculous.
to qualify this entry, i wrote half lastnight. half this afternoon. why? because i was too tired to finish lastnight. but i really just needed to get things off my chest. venting to cyber-space somehow has some pretty amazing therapuetic effects. seriously. anyways. if it's pschyzophrenic. or slightly disjointed, this may or may not be the reason. maybe i AM just a pschyzophrenic, disheveled, disjointed person.
I'm so tired. tired of alot of things. tired of being that girl. the one that's too loud. too boy. too girl. too nice. not nice enough. too smart. not smart enough. too caring. too selfish. too talkative. to quiet. too extroverted. too introverted. too bubbly. too emo. too free spirited. too tied down. too insecure. too prideful. too worldly. too stressed. works too hard. doesnt work hard enough. too irresponsible. too hard on myself. too slow. too impatient. too thin. not thin enough. too side-tracked. too focused. too busy. too vibrant. too dull. too obnoxious.
too worried about what everyone else thinks.
and thats really what it all stems from, right? striving for acceptance from the masses...or from the few... that drains all our energy. all my energy. Yes, i DO agree that there is a manner in which we must, and SHOULD act as followers of christ to spare other's feelings. but when does it stop? where is the line. When does it become masochistic? when we care more about the other feelings in this world that we suppress our own?
all i know is that im tired of suppressing my feelings. of pushing them down. locking them away. stuffing them in. so much so that at times i think i may just burst. 99 red balloons. down to one lonely red balloon. stretched so thin that the breaking point is in sight.
i sometimes feel as though my personality is so intensely vibrant. I love to the utmost degree. i give everything for friendships. i disregard my own needs to make others happy. i strive for perfection. and always fall short. im realizing i will always fall short. no matter how hard i try. why? because its all in my own strength. every single bit. and i didnt notice that i was trying to do it all on my own until i was forced to step back and actually take in my life. to look at where ive been and where im going.
which is the perfect segue to grad school. oh grad school. i really feel as though its not my niche. maybe not quite. i mean i DO enjoy getting down and dirty. and the mental stimulation is alright. sometimes. but sometimes i just want to be able to walk in to my job. sit at a desk. type away. do mindless acts. and be able to leave when its over. and leave the job at work. period. to not carry the feelings of failure as another experiment comes up negative. or to see the look on ur bosses face when it's not enough. or it doesnt work. or it gives results that are out of the ordinary. or gives problematic results. to always feel inferior. its like a large black rain cloud that follows me around. regardless of whether im at lab or away. constantly sprinkling on me reminding me that i have more to fail at. and yet more to do to strive towards success. i think having set hours would be nice. having some sort of separation between life and school would be nice. wait. having a life would be nice.
maybe it's all just the post prelim depression (or PPD as thomas says...) maybe it's God trying to tell me that he has bigger things in store for me. and still my heart is continually crying out for music. and yet my instruments gather dust. my lyrics remain note-less, and my musings remain locked away. no time = no writing = frustration.
and this is where i leave it. my irritation by my lack of discipline. to set aside time to write, to work out, to call friends... and my frustration that things just seem to be moving at a snails pace.
patience is not a virute i possess. and God is constantly reminding me.
and in the silence i hear the whisper. "wait my child. just wait."
