I've noticed that it's hard to keep up a good mood on this side of the mountains. How I feel is very influenced by the weather. I know this, because I made the mistake one year of decorating my room in blues and drab neutrals. It was dark, and I spent all winter brooding. After that, I made sure to use magentas, oranges, yellows, etc. to brighten my living spaces up.
My junior and senior year at college were aided by the fact that I lived in a cheerful little house with yellow walls. Perfect.
Then I moved to whatever you want to call my current dwelling. It's a cave, and it has been impossible to brighten that place up. I even got a new floor lamp.
On a related note, though, I just created a "Sunny Day Radio" station on Pandora. Jack Johnson, Hawaiian music, and upbeat folk rock has been helping me so far today. I needed something to get me past some frustration. It's working to an extent. I won't complain.
Lastly, I have tickets to one of my favorite bands of all time. I'm going to see Sunny Day Real Estate in October. Seattle emo, for the win. It will be grand.
Alright. Back to work. Then it's off to sunny Wenatchee for Casey's celebration of life and my dad's 90th. I think I'll need to stop by a local winery, too. Good idea? I think so.
Smile.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
I'm Back
But then again, I never left.
I've gone several places since the last time I posted here: Las Vegas, Wenatchee, Hawaii, Whidbey Island, Bellingham.
But I never left.
I'm still in a rut, and I haven't been able to dig myself out. I had to go back to Everett last night. I feel like a normal person would accept that fact and go home to his or her apartment with sleep on the mind. How did I handle it? I cried. Of course.
I've tried, Everett. I really have. Nothing about you makes me want to roll my windows down and cruise around. Instead, you've trapped me. All my normal tactics are useless against you.
Has this city finally broken me?
A few weeks ago, before I left for Hawaii and before Cameron was back on the mainland, I started to feel some semblance of normalcy. I was feeling independent and confident about the future. I guess when I stepped back and looked at where I am in comparison to so many others, I was crushed by the depressing reality that I've somehow failed.
When I go home at night, I go home to an empty apartment. It's full of stuff, and if I had the motivation, I swear I would throw most of it away. An unfinished scrapbook. Language books, of which I've only read the first chapter. Presents to be sent off. Piles of laundry. An empty suitcase. Unread GRE study guides.
The distaste I have for this apartment has led me to stop caring. Maybe I would like it more if it didn't feel like such a desperate place. It's not home. It's a storage bin where I unfortunately have to sleep every night.
Get me out of here. My creativity, my drive, my identity have all withered.
Is that what college graduation is about?
If this is the real world, I'm over it. I want to pack my bags and get out of here.
It's too bad I'll only get part way through the task.
I've gone several places since the last time I posted here: Las Vegas, Wenatchee, Hawaii, Whidbey Island, Bellingham.
But I never left.
I'm still in a rut, and I haven't been able to dig myself out. I had to go back to Everett last night. I feel like a normal person would accept that fact and go home to his or her apartment with sleep on the mind. How did I handle it? I cried. Of course.
I've tried, Everett. I really have. Nothing about you makes me want to roll my windows down and cruise around. Instead, you've trapped me. All my normal tactics are useless against you.
Has this city finally broken me?
A few weeks ago, before I left for Hawaii and before Cameron was back on the mainland, I started to feel some semblance of normalcy. I was feeling independent and confident about the future. I guess when I stepped back and looked at where I am in comparison to so many others, I was crushed by the depressing reality that I've somehow failed.
When I go home at night, I go home to an empty apartment. It's full of stuff, and if I had the motivation, I swear I would throw most of it away. An unfinished scrapbook. Language books, of which I've only read the first chapter. Presents to be sent off. Piles of laundry. An empty suitcase. Unread GRE study guides.
The distaste I have for this apartment has led me to stop caring. Maybe I would like it more if it didn't feel like such a desperate place. It's not home. It's a storage bin where I unfortunately have to sleep every night.
Get me out of here. My creativity, my drive, my identity have all withered.
Is that what college graduation is about?
If this is the real world, I'm over it. I want to pack my bags and get out of here.
It's too bad I'll only get part way through the task.
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