Love More...

...hate less. simple? sure. in theory.[1] within the last few weeks i've had a few out of body experiences. and no, i dont mean in the weird sense of "oh-hey!-im-floating-above-my-body-this-is-creepy-cool-im-a-ghost" sorta thing. i mean i hear what i'm saying and i cant believe those words would come out of my mouth in a million years. ever. but they did. i mean. my mouth was moving. it had my voice. it was me. right? dont be silly. of course it was me. i can take ownership for those words. so what, you may ask, was i saying?[2] ha. i wish i could remember. i'm sure it would be a much better post if i could give you the play-by-play, he-said-she-said, nitty-gritty details. but i cant.[3] what i CAN remember is the mood with which i was in. crabby-pants.[4] apparently i had gotten up that morning, and instead of reaching for my jeans, i reached for and put on my crabby pants. so frustrating. because with these becomes my "negative nancy" attitude... where everything comes out as word vomit.[5] i may end up picking apart every little thing thats occuring. voice what exactly is wrong at that moment with one of the three L's.[6] or just something eyore-esque. in other words. [ie]. complaining. or. just down right hating. (which ironically just makes me be disgusted with myself. and/or further deepen a self-loathing...) i think the last few weeks i've been wearing these pants a bit more. not because they go with everything... and not because they're comfortable. i think quite simply because i find them as an accessible diversion.[7] its easier to focus on whats wrong with everything ELSE around me. than having to deal with whats wrong with me.[8] but these word vomit moments preceed (almost simultaneous depending on the situation) an ad naseum apologetic intervention. flash-bang. and i've been pretty angsty these past few weeks. more so than normal... and i realized. i feel hopeless. as in. i feel chained. stifled. suffocated. quelched. as if i were running in circles in a room that was boxed up and stuffed into a plastic bag. tied to a wall. a butterfly in a jar. if all this angst. stress. unhappiness. if i at least had something to show for it. but. it never seems as though i do. and of course i'll have another week at lab meeting where i have no slides to show for my work during the week. because NOTHING IS WORKING!!!! #@$)(*#)(*@#$*@($&(&#@ [9] so i sit in lab. late at night. knowing that its all for naught. roar [10] perhaps all this angst will move from word vomit to musing. at least then i'd possibly have something to show for all the stress, angst, frustration... ...heartache... 1. this entry penned while listening to Love More - Sharon Van Etten http://tinyurl.com/4gpe9cs 2. i realize that you may not really care. if thats the case, then stop reading. if its not, then play along! makes things MUCH more fun. i promise :) 3. this does not mean i have turned in my girl card. yes, we do remember lots of details. but we also forget a lot of things. 4. not to be confused with my dance pants, which are, of course, always on. 5. word vomit: (noun) 1. a jumble of words; 2. something completely disgusting. In THIS case, please refer to definition #2. 6. Life, Love, and Lab 7. i hope you realize that i'm still talking metaphorically. however, i also realize that you can over use one to the point of - wah wah - and i dont want to beat a dead horse. so i'll drop it. starting. now. 8. the good ol' finger point. blame shift. focus on the splinter in your neighbor's eye. etc. etc. 9. but i wont tell you how i really feel. 10. not to be confused with Rawr. rawr = i love you in dinosaur. roar = anger. think T-rex eating a stegosaurus. i apologize for the graphic-ness. O_o