Thursday, November 20, 2008
learning to fly
You would think a high school senior would or at least should have more on her mind during her Math B class (especially with a regent in January), or that she would be focused on admission essays and college application deadlines, than she would be thinking “Hey, I think I want to jump on the blogger bandwagon myself” and you would be wrong. However, most people’s perceptions of me usually are wrong.
I’ve outgrown xanga. And I don’t always feel like or have the time to hand write in the journal I keep privately. But I need some sort of outlet. I tend to choose detrimental (physical and mental) coping mechanisms over productive coping mechanisms. Making this blog is all in the act of trying to change that. Besides writing to vent, or to just put my inconsequential two cents out there, there are few things that can save me during times when bouts of low self-esteem are enclosing their dark hands around my mind and body. Painting, yoga, listening to and playing music, running, and any other cliché teenage hobby or pastime you can come up with. No, I think I’m lying when I say that. Drinks and drugs aren’t my thing. I don’t care if people do them around me. Just don’t designate me to baby-sit. If I had an ID I’d buy myself some electronic cigarettes for Christmas because they’re pretty awesome. But I get the notion that none of this interests you. You’ve heard it all a thousand and one times along with the “I’m different, remember my name, you’ll see my name in lights, I am my own person” statements. I’m not here to convince you of any of those things. I’ll let you be the judge, but even then, what you think of me is none of my business.
Like anyone else, I have been through rough things. Of course it tells a story, which I’ll post at a later time. And if you’ve ever seen me randomly (say getting from point A to point B) it will probably explain the look that those close to me claim I hold on my face. “Unhappy, empty, emotion-void, listless, thoughtless.” –I think you get it, mhm? Well the truth is all of these statements are very far from the truth. I have a lot on my mind, and many mixed emotions about all these things. And when confined into such a tiny space, (my head) they kind of act like molecules in a hot piece of metal, bouncing off of the walls and of each other. And then they just kind of cancel one another out. It makes it a chore to think. I’m a thinker. I think of little things, trivial things, the big picture, at all aspects of something. Sometimes I analyze until I feel like hitting my head against a wall. Sometimes I just want to shut down.
This doesn’t mean I’m not happy. Lately, for the first time in almost a year I’ve felt like my old self. I’m coming out of a stage in which I analyze everything, and starting to just go with the flow again. I’m seeing a therapist. But that’s all I’ll disclose about that for now.
My old self. She’s seemingly stupid, rambunctious, and a little eccentric. But underneath it all she has an intellectual capability that is a little bit of a surprise to some when they discover it exists. She’s wild and random and that’s how she has her fun. But she can be serious too. I like her. I really hope she decides to come back permanently.
I can go on, but I don’t think I’ll ever outline my personality to its full extent even if I continued to type until my finger tips became numb and bloody. I see about me’s as a redundant waste of time. I’ll spend my time actually getting to know someone, thanks.
Speaking of getting to know people, I don’t do very well socially. I have issues with sarcasm, cynicism, and misanthropy. It doesn’t make me a bad person. And quite frankly I’d rather be this way, than let everyone step over me.
Surprisingly enough, I do have a very small amount of good friends, which that has helped me to realize quality really does reign over quantity.
I wonder sometimes if I was born in the wrong decade, or country. If given the option I’d choose the 40’s or Romania, respectively. I wouldn’t want to choose both though.
Okay, I’m really excited about his blog now. I feel like doing a dance. <~~says the old Kristin dying to get out.
It kind of feels like a new chapter of my life. I'm leaving everything behind. I feel change.
I’ve outgrown xanga. And I don’t always feel like or have the time to hand write in the journal I keep privately. But I need some sort of outlet. I tend to choose detrimental (physical and mental) coping mechanisms over productive coping mechanisms. Making this blog is all in the act of trying to change that. Besides writing to vent, or to just put my inconsequential two cents out there, there are few things that can save me during times when bouts of low self-esteem are enclosing their dark hands around my mind and body. Painting, yoga, listening to and playing music, running, and any other cliché teenage hobby or pastime you can come up with. No, I think I’m lying when I say that. Drinks and drugs aren’t my thing. I don’t care if people do them around me. Just don’t designate me to baby-sit. If I had an ID I’d buy myself some electronic cigarettes for Christmas because they’re pretty awesome. But I get the notion that none of this interests you. You’ve heard it all a thousand and one times along with the “I’m different, remember my name, you’ll see my name in lights, I am my own person” statements. I’m not here to convince you of any of those things. I’ll let you be the judge, but even then, what you think of me is none of my business.
Like anyone else, I have been through rough things. Of course it tells a story, which I’ll post at a later time. And if you’ve ever seen me randomly (say getting from point A to point B) it will probably explain the look that those close to me claim I hold on my face. “Unhappy, empty, emotion-void, listless, thoughtless.” –I think you get it, mhm? Well the truth is all of these statements are very far from the truth. I have a lot on my mind, and many mixed emotions about all these things. And when confined into such a tiny space, (my head) they kind of act like molecules in a hot piece of metal, bouncing off of the walls and of each other. And then they just kind of cancel one another out. It makes it a chore to think. I’m a thinker. I think of little things, trivial things, the big picture, at all aspects of something. Sometimes I analyze until I feel like hitting my head against a wall. Sometimes I just want to shut down.
This doesn’t mean I’m not happy. Lately, for the first time in almost a year I’ve felt like my old self. I’m coming out of a stage in which I analyze everything, and starting to just go with the flow again. I’m seeing a therapist. But that’s all I’ll disclose about that for now.
My old self. She’s seemingly stupid, rambunctious, and a little eccentric. But underneath it all she has an intellectual capability that is a little bit of a surprise to some when they discover it exists. She’s wild and random and that’s how she has her fun. But she can be serious too. I like her. I really hope she decides to come back permanently.
I can go on, but I don’t think I’ll ever outline my personality to its full extent even if I continued to type until my finger tips became numb and bloody. I see about me’s as a redundant waste of time. I’ll spend my time actually getting to know someone, thanks.
Speaking of getting to know people, I don’t do very well socially. I have issues with sarcasm, cynicism, and misanthropy. It doesn’t make me a bad person. And quite frankly I’d rather be this way, than let everyone step over me.
Surprisingly enough, I do have a very small amount of good friends, which that has helped me to realize quality really does reign over quantity.
I wonder sometimes if I was born in the wrong decade, or country. If given the option I’d choose the 40’s or Romania, respectively. I wouldn’t want to choose both though.
Okay, I’m really excited about his blog now. I feel like doing a dance. <~~says the old Kristin dying to get out.
It kind of feels like a new chapter of my life. I'm leaving everything behind. I feel change.
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