I've been developing a sort of nautical obsession lately. Daydreaming about sailing, and the open sea. I've been dressing the part, too. I recently started wearing my pea coat that has anchors on the buttons again, and I've been thinking that instead of getting a tattoo sleeve in just fairytales it'll be ocean themed instead. For a while I thought this whole thing was stemming from my newly-acquired Disney obsession, especially with the Little Mermaid. But I've been ruminating on it a lot lately, and I think it's actually a bit more of a personal development.
I used to be terrified of the open sea. The idea of all that vast emptiness scared me, and for the longest time sailing seemed like a terrifying idea. I think the whole thing was just symbolic in my mind, though. I think that, to my subconscious, the open sea represented all the options and potential life held. It was everything that was outside of the little box I had made for myself, the comfort zone I had carved. And now, the only thing I want out of life is possibility. My comfort zone isn't enough. Even more so, it's starting to feel like a prison instead of someplace safe. I want options. Hell, I need options.
I'm stepping out of my box, more and more, and I want that open sea. I want to look into the horizon and know that regardless of which direction I take, there's something out there. Possibilities. I want adventure, I want love, and I want to live life, not just go through the motions. So that's my little revelation of the day. Seems like I'm having more and more lately. Tomorrow is a brand new year, and I'm looking forward to it. Because I'm a brand new me, and the new me could use a fresh start.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Panic! at the Diner
I freaked myself out today. For just a moment. I was at the Family Diner, a favorite place of mine, with my sister and she went to the bathroom, leaving me alone at our table. Suddenly, I became incredibly aware of my septum piercing, like it was the most physically uncomfortable thing. A moment later I absolutely hated not only the piercing, but all the changes I've gone through that I've been writing about recently. It was the strangest sort of panic, this feeling that everything I was doing was wrong. I felt like my whole world was being ripped to shreds and I wasn't even really sure why, but it had to do with all the changes in my life. The septum piercing was just the catalyst. I even seriously considered taking out the piercing for a couple moments.
I didn't take it out, of course. For that moment, when I was panicking about all the changes I've been making within myself, I even considered undoing it all. I'm honestly not sure why, but for those moments all those insecurities I had before came rushing back. Everything in my life was just wrong. I think my brain just couldn't handle the stress of the real world for a second. It wanted me to revert back to a simpler time, when all it had to do was focus on daydreams and not scary things like the future or change. The moment passed pretty quickly, and by the time my sister got back from the restroom I was back to the Me I've been getting to know lately. It was just a strange panic I felt worth mentioning. It hasn't disheartened my efforts though- if anything, it's made them stronger.
I've been weighing in my head whether to go to Anchorage in a couple days to see my step-sister and step-brother, because their mother is dying and I feel like they'll need me there for them. The closer it gets to when I'm planning on going, though, the less inclined I feel to do it. Scared of the unknown, scared of what will happen if I leave while I'm scheduled for work. I hate my job, I love my step-siblings. How was this even a difficult choice? Besides, New Timmy is far more adventurous than Old Timmy. And right now, I am in dire need of some adventure.
I didn't take it out, of course. For that moment, when I was panicking about all the changes I've been making within myself, I even considered undoing it all. I'm honestly not sure why, but for those moments all those insecurities I had before came rushing back. Everything in my life was just wrong. I think my brain just couldn't handle the stress of the real world for a second. It wanted me to revert back to a simpler time, when all it had to do was focus on daydreams and not scary things like the future or change. The moment passed pretty quickly, and by the time my sister got back from the restroom I was back to the Me I've been getting to know lately. It was just a strange panic I felt worth mentioning. It hasn't disheartened my efforts though- if anything, it's made them stronger.
I've been weighing in my head whether to go to Anchorage in a couple days to see my step-sister and step-brother, because their mother is dying and I feel like they'll need me there for them. The closer it gets to when I'm planning on going, though, the less inclined I feel to do it. Scared of the unknown, scared of what will happen if I leave while I'm scheduled for work. I hate my job, I love my step-siblings. How was this even a difficult choice? Besides, New Timmy is far more adventurous than Old Timmy. And right now, I am in dire need of some adventure.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Metamorphosis
One thing to know about me: I never let go. This is true of almost everything in my life. I don't like endings, so even when I leave something I don't consider it ending, I consider it unfinished. I've got multiple books on my shelf that I lost interest in after getting half-way through. They've still got bookmarks in them, because I'm sure that I'm going to come back to them at some point. I'm still friends with the people I grew up with in McGrath, and the friends I made in high school. Even if I drift apart from them or have arguments, I never consider a friendship truly over until one party says so; and, generally, I end up drifting back from time to time.
This is also true of my interests. This is, in part, why I'm having such difficulty choosing a career path and area of study. Take astrology, for example. Astrology was something I became interested in a couple years ago, and sporadically throughout my life before then. And, like most things I take interest in, I became disinterested and more-or-less forgot about it for a while. And then I started becoming more interested again recently. This is also true of my writing, and this blog is a perfect example. Look at the dates from my posts, and you'll find them scattered throughout months at a time. There have been times in my life when I have been entirely sure writing would be completely intertwined with my future.
It's not so much that I'm against having a writing career. Quite the opposite, I'd love to have a future in writing. I'm just skeptical right now because, knowing myself, I'm going to lose that interest again when something "shinier" catches my interest. Maybe that's not such a terrible thing. A writer needs to have varied interests, right? But if I don't work on my self-discipline and focus, I'll never get anything done! Which is kind of what I've done for the past 22 (verging on 23) years. The big revelation I'm trying to make here is I'm changing. Not slowly, not even subtly, but quickly and obviously. It's a physical, mental and emotional transformation, something I can feel in my bones and my soul. A mixture of both big and little things.
I'm growing a beard and a mustache. Doesn't that sound like such a completely mundane change? But this is not only a physical change, but a change in mentality. I used to hate my facial hair, having to shave almost every day just because I didn't want to look scruffy. Now, not only am I okay with looking scruffy, I'm embracing it. I feel better about myself when I look kind of scruffy, I think I look more attractive. I've pierced my septum, which was something I've always thought was really stupid looking until recently. After years of completely ignoring the fact that I'm nearsighted I went to the optometrist and got glasses. I'm considering some changes to my hair and some tattoos, decisions pending.
That's just the physical. Maybe it's my mind's symbolic way of coping with the idea of change. A symbolic "life, death, rebirth" kind of thing. Full circle, and all that. Physical change have always been a constant with me, as ironic as that sounds. My hair has gone through every color on the spectrum (and that's only a slight exaggeration) and my style has gone through goth, grunge, and overtly-gay themes. I have these amazing revelations almost every half year induced by my romantic nature. I'm not sure if this is what is happening to me right now. Maybe, once again, I'm simply following my own pattern. But I really do feel like this is a breaking point for me. For once, I've found an ending that I can not only live with, but think I need to live. I don't mean that in a "suicide watch" kind of way either, but it's only been recently I've felt like my life's started to begin.
I'm making serious plans for my future. I'm losing all those strings that were holding me back before. The insecurity is beginning to melt away, and after finally getting a good look at who I am, I think I'm finally figuring out who I'm meant to be. Or, better yet, who I want to be. I'm finally getting there, guys.
This is also true of my interests. This is, in part, why I'm having such difficulty choosing a career path and area of study. Take astrology, for example. Astrology was something I became interested in a couple years ago, and sporadically throughout my life before then. And, like most things I take interest in, I became disinterested and more-or-less forgot about it for a while. And then I started becoming more interested again recently. This is also true of my writing, and this blog is a perfect example. Look at the dates from my posts, and you'll find them scattered throughout months at a time. There have been times in my life when I have been entirely sure writing would be completely intertwined with my future.
It's not so much that I'm against having a writing career. Quite the opposite, I'd love to have a future in writing. I'm just skeptical right now because, knowing myself, I'm going to lose that interest again when something "shinier" catches my interest. Maybe that's not such a terrible thing. A writer needs to have varied interests, right? But if I don't work on my self-discipline and focus, I'll never get anything done! Which is kind of what I've done for the past 22 (verging on 23) years. The big revelation I'm trying to make here is I'm changing. Not slowly, not even subtly, but quickly and obviously. It's a physical, mental and emotional transformation, something I can feel in my bones and my soul. A mixture of both big and little things.
I'm growing a beard and a mustache. Doesn't that sound like such a completely mundane change? But this is not only a physical change, but a change in mentality. I used to hate my facial hair, having to shave almost every day just because I didn't want to look scruffy. Now, not only am I okay with looking scruffy, I'm embracing it. I feel better about myself when I look kind of scruffy, I think I look more attractive. I've pierced my septum, which was something I've always thought was really stupid looking until recently. After years of completely ignoring the fact that I'm nearsighted I went to the optometrist and got glasses. I'm considering some changes to my hair and some tattoos, decisions pending.
That's just the physical. Maybe it's my mind's symbolic way of coping with the idea of change. A symbolic "life, death, rebirth" kind of thing. Full circle, and all that. Physical change have always been a constant with me, as ironic as that sounds. My hair has gone through every color on the spectrum (and that's only a slight exaggeration) and my style has gone through goth, grunge, and overtly-gay themes. I have these amazing revelations almost every half year induced by my romantic nature. I'm not sure if this is what is happening to me right now. Maybe, once again, I'm simply following my own pattern. But I really do feel like this is a breaking point for me. For once, I've found an ending that I can not only live with, but think I need to live. I don't mean that in a "suicide watch" kind of way either, but it's only been recently I've felt like my life's started to begin.
I'm making serious plans for my future. I'm losing all those strings that were holding me back before. The insecurity is beginning to melt away, and after finally getting a good look at who I am, I think I'm finally figuring out who I'm meant to be. Or, better yet, who I want to be. I'm finally getting there, guys.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
This Whole "Indecision" Thing
Every time I think I've figured myself out, I throw myself for a loop... I'm a tricky son-of-a-bitch. I was so sure for the past couple months that I was going to be a teacher. I started the semester thinking, "Hey, teaching! That's something I would probably be good at and enjoy!" And that's been my mindset for the majority of the semester. I thought I had it. That was the longest time I've ever been sure about anything! ...and then my personality happened.
I was looking for classes for this upcoming semester, and I started going through the Journalism stuff. Now, to be fair, Journalism is something I have a bit of history in. When I graduated high school I even briefly considered studying journalism, and during high school I wrote for our school paper for two years. I was even an editor during my final semester. Journalism has always been something that has interested me, but that's pretty much true of any of the majors I considered.
I think my main problem is that, no matter what I do, I romanticize the career I think I want to have. But after actually chasing that career in the form of school, and thinking it over, I realize the reality is so much less than what I hoped for. When I think of journalism I imagine tough, exciting, undercover work and investigative reporting, when the reality is most reporting is fluff, especially on a local level. Hard-hitting stories are much more difficult to find than my imagination lets me run away with.
But this realization, mixed with some other facets of my life, have me coming to a greater realization than I'm losing my "head-in-the-clouds" mentality. My feet are beginning to touch the ground, and I think I'm okay with that. Even more so, I think I need that. I'm going to miss the view from up there, but it'll be good to have some down-to-earth perspective. So now, it's a matter of actually taking a long, hard look at the things in my life I'm clinging to due to my romantic nature and evaluating what purpose they actually have in my life.
I need to figure out what my major is. I need to evaluate what I've chosen carefully, and then file the paper-work for that major. Just to cement it in not just my own head, but in the great, wide world of academia. Even if I do change my major at some later point, the fact that I had chosen a major, officially, at least once before will constantly be on record. Maybe it'll motivate me.
"Timmy Snow reporting", does have a nice ring to it though, right?
I was looking for classes for this upcoming semester, and I started going through the Journalism stuff. Now, to be fair, Journalism is something I have a bit of history in. When I graduated high school I even briefly considered studying journalism, and during high school I wrote for our school paper for two years. I was even an editor during my final semester. Journalism has always been something that has interested me, but that's pretty much true of any of the majors I considered.
I think my main problem is that, no matter what I do, I romanticize the career I think I want to have. But after actually chasing that career in the form of school, and thinking it over, I realize the reality is so much less than what I hoped for. When I think of journalism I imagine tough, exciting, undercover work and investigative reporting, when the reality is most reporting is fluff, especially on a local level. Hard-hitting stories are much more difficult to find than my imagination lets me run away with.
But this realization, mixed with some other facets of my life, have me coming to a greater realization than I'm losing my "head-in-the-clouds" mentality. My feet are beginning to touch the ground, and I think I'm okay with that. Even more so, I think I need that. I'm going to miss the view from up there, but it'll be good to have some down-to-earth perspective. So now, it's a matter of actually taking a long, hard look at the things in my life I'm clinging to due to my romantic nature and evaluating what purpose they actually have in my life.
I need to figure out what my major is. I need to evaluate what I've chosen carefully, and then file the paper-work for that major. Just to cement it in not just my own head, but in the great, wide world of academia. Even if I do change my major at some later point, the fact that I had chosen a major, officially, at least once before will constantly be on record. Maybe it'll motivate me.
"Timmy Snow reporting", does have a nice ring to it though, right?
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