Hobbies

I'd love to know how to sew and have a nice sewing machine with all sorts of fancy options. Which would require that I have a studio of some sort.

I'd also like to be a great roller skater. I used to think derby was the way to go, but it's gotten awfully popular lately. I'd like to just have some skates and a place to use them.

I'd like to learn to cook. I don't want to just follow recipes; I want to look at what I've got and know how to make something delicious.

I'd like to raise animals regularly. I'm horribly sensitive about animals, but I love them and raising them, probably to do farm work of some kind, would help with that and be really rewarding, I think.

I'd like to enjoy strenuous, physical activity, at least to some degree.

I'd like to be an independently wealth and successful artist.

I'm not getting any younger so I suppose I should get to it.

Woe Is Me

It really, really sucks when old flames get married to someone other than yourself, doesn't it? Even when the person he or she marries is awesome and a friend of yours, even when you're in your own (semi-) successful relationship, even when you kind of knew it would happen eventually anyway. Even then, it totally sucks.

I just learned today of the impending nuptials of someone I used to be madly in love with. He was my friend first and foremost, and his pining for me eventually made me pine right back. I was pretty stubborn though, and by the time I was willing to give "us" a chance, it turns out that it was just too late. Everything kind of fell apart after that, and though we're definitely friends again now, we aren't now nor will ever be friends like we used to be. I love the woman he's marrying. She's a true friend of mine and I've said a million times that they're made for each other, and I even meant it. But that still doesn't make my heart any less heavy with the knowledge that it's happening.

However, I have no reason nor right to do or say anything negative about this relationship. God knows that I couldn't be with him as he is anyway. I just miss the attention he used to give to me and the knowledge that I was first for him. The fact that I'm first for the man I'm with now is apparently not enough. Or maybe it's just so different from what I had with the other guy that it can't even compare. I think that's more accurate.

It makes me feel old, lame, small and sad. I don't like feeling this way, but duh, who would? Today has become a shit day and I can't think of any, single thing that would make it better, other than maybe instantly losing about thirty pounds, which will clearly not happen.

Center of Attention

As the title suggests, I love to be the center of attention. I love people watching me and laughing (with me, not at me) and feeling about me what I feel when I watch other people perform. The direct sales business I run from home (which is not related to the job that just laid me off) allows me to stand in front of groups of people and show off. I get to be The Expert and people listen to what I say and take it seriously. I'm told by at least one person at the end of every "party" that I'm great at what I do and they she's learned something new from me. I love telling people what to do and having them not question, but just listen and agree. Yes, I'm a bit of a control freak and I'm rarely wrong (it's true).

When I was a little girl, I used to want to be a singer or an actress (what little girl doesn't want that?), but what I think that really meant was that I just wanted everyone to pay attention to me. Ever since then, when I see someone on a stage, I'm envious. I've tried acting and though it was fun, it's not really my thing. I've always, always wanted to play guitar and sing in front of people, but it took 23 years for me to actually get a guitar and take lessons. It took five more years after that for me to learn to grab my nuts and play where others can hear me. A friend was over one night with his guitar and when he left the room, I picked it up and played a little of what I knew. He totally busted me when he came back and said that if I could do that, I shouldn't be afraid to let others hear. So when he started an open mic night in town shortly thereafter, I started playing. The first couple weeks were horrendous and nerve wracking. I sweated and shook and my voice cracked and my heart pounded so loud, I could hardly hear the "music" I played. The more I did it, the more comfortable I became, though, and while I'm by no means Good now, I certainly don't suck the way I did three months ago. I've found that a couple beers helps (of course), as does simply not thinking about it so damn much before I do it. If I spend hours beforehand practicing and perfecting, it's like there's too much pressure to live up to and I blow it. But if I just relax, pick up the guitar and play, it comes out fairly well. I still have nights where I'm shaky and crappy, but I also have nights where the (small) crowd whistles and screams when I'm done. Those are the nights that I want to play and play, cover after cover (because I definitely don't write anything original) and never stop because the positive attention I'm getting from it feels so damn good.

Sinking

The last couple of days, I've woken up sad. My dreams are more fun than reality and I find myself not wanting to get out of bed. Sure, there're things to do each day, but none of them feel pressing or insistent. Laundry, dishes, cat litter, tidying, taking garbage out...blah. The only good thing about those chores is that they're easy and mindless. There's also direct sales related tasks, dealing with unemployment and applying for jobs. Those things do require thought, and while that doesn't sound like a bad thing, for some reason, it's daunting.

All of it is daunting, and I don't know why. I feel shitty. When I don't have a regular schedule to follow, one that's at least party controlled by someone other than me, I have very little motivation. I'm not smoking, so that's not it. I'm not drinking excessively, so that's not it, either. I'm just feeling shitty.

I need a source of income. I don't want to work in an office because it eats my soul and it's so goddamn common. Nine to five, forty hours per week jobs make me want to kill myself. However, they at least give me responsibilities. I've worked night jobs-bartending, waitressing-and I enjoy those more because I get to interact with people and there's generally a lot more freedom to be who I am. I can only do those jobs for so long, though, before I start getting sick of being up all night and sleeping all day. That makes me feel shitty, too. I don't mind retail jobs at all, but there's not much money in that, and I have to survive. What I really want to be doing is teaching college sociology classes dealing with gender, relationships, cultural differences and sexuality. That won't happen without a master's degree and I'll never be a full time student again because I can't fathom being even further in student loan debt.

I'm afraid that I'm falling into a pit of depression, and that's shitty and scary because I've been there before and it's a horrible, horrible feeling. I'm not there yet, but I feel it coming. I feel lazy and worthless and useless. I'm not accomplishing anything and I'm not earning anything. All I do is clean and tidy my house, which is barely anything at all, especially when it never gets really bad in here in the first place. I don't want to get out of bed in the morning, so I sleep until at least noon, if not later. Every day is starting to feel like just another chunk of time to fill before I can go back to bed and dream. Watching tv passes the time fairly well, so I do a lot of that. I have other things to do, but when I think about them, I feel overwhelmed, so I push it to the back of my mind and think, I'll do it later. But I usually don't do any of it. I just push it aside until it's no longer relevant.

This is a bad, bad way to feel and it leads to sad and self-destructive thoughts. Just DO someting, I tell myself, but when I can't make myself do anything, I feel like even more of a worthless piece of failed shit. This is how I'd felt for months before I got the job that just laid me off. The job was stupid and I didn't enjoy it at all, but it gave me purpose and that made me feel better than I'd felt in a very long time.

This is not good, and I'm afraid it'll get worse before it gets better. If it gets bad enough, I'm not sure I can come out of it. I'm afraid for my sanity and I don't know what do do about it.

Welcome, Fall

October is the greatest month of the year for many reasons, but the top two are, in order of importance, 1) My Birthday, a.k.a. My Own Personal Holiday, and 2) HALLOWEEN!

This year, I'll be 29, and believe it or not, I'm not terrified of turning 30. In fact, all I ever hear about is how women in their 30s are in the prime of their lives. I've heard that sex gets better, for one thing, and that can't be bad. I know that the older I get, I less I want to be younger again. My 20s have been great, but also incredibly confusing in a lot of ways. I'm beginning to recognize and truly enjoy the wisdom I gain with age, as well as the fact that the older I get, the more seriously I'm taken by strangers on the street (or in bars, or restaurants, or stores, et cetera), which in turn gives me more confidence. I'm finally learning to appreciate my health because it's not so obvious anymore. I get incredibly annoyed by kids (kids!) in their early 20s and find myself preferring a quiet night in with friends instead of a crazy night at a house party with strangers.

One thing that hasn't changed with age is the second reason that October is awesome: Halloween! It's my FAVORITE time of year, no contest. I LOVE costumes and the creativity that comes with them. My all time best costume ever was my Miss Piggy costume from last year where I GLUED A LATEX PIG NOSE TO MY FACE. It was epic. I'm going cheap this year and working on what should amount to a fan-freaking-tastic clown costume, as long as the cats quit stealing my felt polka dots. I know, clown costumes are bland and boring and usually only occur when you don't have enough time to come up with something else, so you throw on some white face paint, a red nose, some clothes that are too big and mis-matched and a wig, if you have one. I'm trying to take it to the next level, though, by making it clear that I've been thinking of and working on this costume for several weeks. The hardest part will be deciding how I want to paint my face. Scary, killer klown? Funny, rainbow, kid's party clown? Drunk, cracked-out wasted clown? The possibilities are endless!

It begins.

I've wanted to be a blog author for a long ass time, but have always had a zillion reasons why I can't do it "right now." Well. I just lost my job. Which means I have ample free time to do whatever the hell I want, as long as it doesn't require spending any money. So here I am, being a blog author. Will it suck? Will it be awesome? Will anyone ever even read it (besides myself) to judge one way or another in the first place? We shall see.

I think a good place to start with this would be to talk about the title of the blog, "Bud vs. Blossom." Not long ago, I sort of threw myself head first into a self-induced personal crisis. It was on the verge of happening for a long time, so I decided to allow myself to lose my shit and go with it, finally, because it needed to happen. I'm not normally big on inspirational quotes or anything like that, but while in the midst of deciding whether or not to allow my shit to be lost, I stumbled onto a quote by Anais Nin. It stuck with me and inspired me to do what I needed to do to be the person I wanted to be. It goes like this:

"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."

Couldn't have been more perfectly tailored to me and life when I found it, and ever since then, I've decided to put on my big girl panties and take responsibility for life. So far, so good.