I do not need a Year-In-Review compilation from my password manager.
Cuz of ennui. And weenies.
There’s a certain beauty in sadness that I think is difficult to fully appreciate when feeling content.
I find myself, when feeling down, really appreciating the softness and kindness and gentle nature of the things and people around me and trying to radiate the same. Maybe it’s because that, biochemically, is what I’m drawn towards at the moments in question, or maybe I just notice it more. It could be that those things just get overlooked or rushed past in the normal daily reality of a productive, fast-paced human being. For whatever reason, it’s a strangely alluring phenomenon. Not entirely healthy, probably. Just… comfortably softer, like an old blanket I can curl up under.
how we quit
I’ve noticed over the past few months that my wardrobe has started to incorporate a lot more vibrant colors.
It’s not something I’ve been doing intentionally, but I wonder how much of it is influenced by correct medication and life becoming happier.
Anyway, it’s nice. I like it. Note to self: keep doing this thing.
The first shower after spending three days sick in bed is among the top three sensory experiences in the known universe. That is all.
Question for self: what is the most healthy, constructive way to positively move forward in a community after recognizing non-zero harm one has done?
Are we defined by what we have said and done? Is there a path forward? Is it a disservice, having reflected and learned, to forgive ourselves and change our ways, or is the damage and necessary penance permanent? Is reintegration possible?
Let the records indicate, I am a better human being when surrounded by positive human beings.
As an introvert, I require time to recharge away from, and in the immediate aftermath of, scenarios requiring a good deal of high-energy social interactions. A loud party, a large group activity where I’m expected to or need to make extended amounts of small talk – anything like that, where I need to process and recharge on my own.
This recharging time can come in two flavors. One outcome, in the instance of a high-stress scenario or one interlaced with people or scenes I find difficult to relate to or otherwise psychologically or emotionally draining, leaves my personal recharge time feeling largely negative, as though I’m reviewing a list of reasons why I’m not fit to engage with society in a healthy way, and reinforcing the already maladaptive mindset that I’m just ever so slightly out of sync with the rest of the world and I’m just kind of observing other peoples’ good moments without being able to incorporate myself into them or being invited to do so.
On the other end of the spectrum, when I find myself, whether by accident or design, surrounded by folks with whom conversations roll easily, and there is obvious genuine mutual affection (be it romantic, friendship, or any level of deliberately positive energy), or from whom I feel no pressure to conform or to act in a certain way or otherwise adjust by behaviors, I come out of it still needing to recharge, but to do so in a way that almost multiplies the positivity experienced. I’m happy, reflective, and filled with appreciation and gratitude and love for everyone and everything who helped create the situation.
It is easy for me to experience either of those scenarios – it seems like an obvious choice for an outside observer: would you rather do Activity A which will leave you feeling sad and isolated, or would you rather do Activity B, which leaves you feeling appreciated, loved, and fulfilled?
Seems like a good question to ask myself moving forward, doesn’t it?
I had a great time today, and it was in large part due to choosing the correct people to invest in and letting them choose to invest in me, or not, as they saw fit.
I’m an alternately cranky and upbeat human; outwardly cynical with a core of optimism that refuses to die. I am at my kindest when I am sad, and I sometimes feel like I don’t entirely grasp the subtleties or intricacies of How To Human.
Usually, I’m told, it’s endearing. Sometimes it’s exasperating. Infrequently, it causes interpersonal damage of varying degrees, over which I lose a sleep while I re-read emails dozens of times, rehashing events and dialogue in my head.
I go to sex parties. I stay up late reading on Saturday nights. Sometimes I’m happy, sometimes I cry. Sometimes I listen to Belle & Sebastian drinking hot chocolate under a comforter, sometimes I drink shitty beers in loud, dirty rock clubs. I’ve got feelings, and I need a place to put them, and here we are.
In this post-LiveJournal, Not-On-Facebook era, I find myself wanting a place to keep track of my thoughts and tease out some larger-theme ideas that don’t quite lend themselves to a single thought session. You are welcome to join me for the ride; I make no promises, however, as to quality of material or consistency of theme. It’s almost as though I’m doing this for myself and not you!