Back in the Day Take Twelve: 5/21/2010

This is something fun I wrote about my own imagination.  I'm not sure if I was just writing or trying to make it into a story and just never finished...

When I was eight I was the princess and sole ruler of some far away kingdom in the clouds.  There were occasions when some enemy would track me down while I was in class and I’d have to fight my way out.  I’d obliterate the threat and then jump like some ninja to escape through the vents in the ceiling or through a third story window.  Sometimes my subjects would be in trouble from the darkness that was always trying to creep over the borders and my General would have to come fetch me from school.  I remember everyone was shocked when a bunch of winged horses suddenly landed in the middle of the asphalt, calling me away with them.  Away to my kingdom in the sky…surrounded by clouds and dreams…

When I was eleven I had my own secret hideaway.  There was a secret passage hidden in my bedroom wall, only accessible through an opening by the top bunk of my bed.  Only I could enter.  I would escape for hours at a time.  To my own sanctuary where I could read and play and be content.  Any disturbance from the outside world could not penetrate that wall.  A war could have broken out; atomic bombs could have dropped.  But in my chamber of dreams there would be only peace.

When I was fourteen I was a master of spells.  A sorceress to match any in the fairytales you’ve read.  I could bewitch.  I could manipulate.  I could control.   The world was at my beck and call.

When I was eighteen I was an overnight household name.  An actress/singer/model.  The best of talent and desire wrapped into one.  I could bend the emotion of the world with one glance.  I was invited to talk shows.  Casting directors never stopped calling.  I was on the cover of every magazine.  And every boy who ever knew me was pained by the idea that they didn’t hold onto me up while I was there.

Yesterday I was a world-renowned author.  I was on a book tour for my latest installment.  They were already trying to make movies out of my works, but I was being a snob.  I refused to let my life’s work be tainted by screenwriters.  Not even remembering what city I was currently in (it’s always hard to keep track when on tour), I was taking a walk in the park to get away from the chaos of it all when suddenly I was face-to-face with an ex-boyfriend.  Of course he regretted breaking my heart and for one second I considered forgiving him.  But then I realized I was far beyond him and went back to my books and my better life.

Today, however, I am just a working girl.  No romance, no special powers.  Just me, my job, and my cat.  I had to remind myself of this as I was racing out of my door this morning, ten minutes late.  I slammed the door behind me and suddenly was falling.  The landing had disappeared!  I was plummeting into darkness with no idea how I would ever survive such a fall.  And then smack!  I was inside my car shaking my head.  “No, I’m late,” I muttered to myself, turning the radio even louder.  I got to work just in time. 

The day flew by quickly enough.  I tend to enjoy my work on most days.  I even read through a whole three chapters during my lunch.  After work I struggled through rush hour, crashed in through the door, and collapsed on the couch.

Back in the Day Take Eleven: 4/22/2010

A story I started writing when I was bored at work one day.  I've never been able to get passed the first chapter of anything I've written:

The dream always begins the same way: Trapped.  I’m in a dark room.  It’s cold and damp.  I can hear the drip of water from what I can only suppose is a leaky pipe.  I’m sitting on the hard cement floor straining my eyes and ears, trying to sense something.  Anything.  I can’t move except to shiver.  My breath is labored and terrified.  My heart is pounding in my chest, threatening to break into pieces.  And still I sit there.  Nothing happens.  No one comes.  There is absolute nothingness.

And then I wake up.  My eyes flutter open on their own and I lay there trying to make sense of it all.  I listen to the ticking of the clock in the bathroom.  I stare at the soft flow of light filtering in through the cracks of the blinds.  And I wonder.  Why do I dream such blackness?  Why is the world so empty in my heart?

I sigh and turn over, adjusting myself more comfortably into my bed.  I shut my eyes and wait for sleep to take me again.

My waking life is far less worth mentioning.  I spend my days forcing myself through a job that I hate only to come home and collapse on the couch to watch TV.  Too lazy to do anything else.  Half the time I go to bed realizing I’ve forgotten to eat again.  Occasionally, when forced, I’ll spend the evening with a friend or on a date.  I’ve become very good at pretending I’m normal and happy.  I remember to smile and laugh when appropriate.  I pay enough attention to conversations to answer questions when asked.  I even make eye contact.  But really it is just an act.  I don’t remember what it feels like to actually be happy.  I’m just glad no one recognizes the fake.  I hate questions.

It was on one of those boring nights home alone that my story really begins.  I had remembered that I was hungry and put some water on to boil.  The only things I ever learned how to make were pasta and frozen pizza – very pathetic, I know, but pathetic was the definition of my existence at the time.  The TV was playing in the living room.  It was loud enough to hear from the kitchen.  I was singing along to whatever stupid, annoying commercial was playing as I drained the pasta into the sink. 

In a careless moment I spilled some of the steaming water onto my hand.  It burned!  I dropped the pot into the sink and turned the cold water from the tap onto my hand.  It was red and throbbing and the water didn’t seem to be doing any good.  I turned to the freezer instead.  It was empty of anything useful.  Why had I not gone grocery shopping in over a month?   Normally I’m the type to ignore sickness and pain and just deal with it, but this was hurting too much to be ignored.  I finally resolved myself to dare the grocery store for some burn ointment….I hate the grocery store.  I hate anywhere with crowds.  I reasoned with myself that at 8:00 in the evening not very many people would be there.  So I grabbed my keys, threw on some shoes, and was on my way. 

After the ten minute drive, I eased into a parking place.  I took two deep breaths and made my way into the store.  I had been right.  It was nearly deserted.  I remembered to be polite to anyone who smiled or spoke a greeting to me, but otherwise plowed my way through to my destination.  I tried to scan the shelves quickly, but I had never bought burn medicine before.  I had no idea what would be best.  I was considering two boxes when I heard a voice behind me.

“Do you need some help finding something?”

I glanced up.  He was about my age.  He had a fit body, dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a friendly smile.  Over all he was very attractive.

“No thanks, I’m just looking,” I smiled my well-practiced fake smile back at him and looked back down.

“That’s a pretty nasty burn you have there.”

I looked up again.  So he was going to be one of those people who liked to try to make conversation…why can’t they just leave me alone?

“Yeah, it’s not so pretty,” I answered him.

“He walked over stand next to me and grabbed a box off the shelf.  “I’d go with this one,” he said.  I took the box from his hand.  It couldn’t hurt to take his suggestion.

“Thank you.”  I replaced the other boxes and smiled at him again.  He was still watching me.  He was tall.  I couldn’t look him full in the face without putting my head back.  I dropped my gaze, absent-mindedly brushing a hair behind my ear.

“Well thanks again,” I slowly started to turn away.

“My name is Andrew.”  He held out his hand.

“Lydia.”  I touched my uninjured hand lightly to his for just a moment.  I hated handshakes.  I never did them properly.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.  Do you shop here a lot?”

“Umm…I guess so.  I don’t really like grocery shopping so I come as little as I can.”

“That’s too bad.  You should make it over here more often.”

I laughed forcedly and wondered if it would be too obvious if I started to inch away.  I longed for my empty apartment.

“No, I’m serious.  My job might not be so boring if I got to see your pretty face more often.”  He winked.  I hate it when people wink.  It’s such a strange thing to do.

Again I laughed because I knew I should.  “Well, I’d better get going.”

He was still smiling.  It was a very nice smile, I noticed.  “I was very nice to meet you Lydia.”

“You, too.”  I turned and began walking away, sure it would be rude to break into a run.  And then:

“Lydia?”

I stopped and closed my eyes.  I had been so close!  I turned to look at him again.

“This might be kind of forward, but I’d really love to be able to talk to you more….Do you mind if I get your phone number?”

I had to admit it was the most polite request for my phone number I had ever received.  But still….I had never learned to say no to that question and giving a fake number to a nice man at my age seemed too juvenile.  I waited for him to save my number in his phone and then broke free.

Thirty minutes later I was safe in my apartment, my hand shiny with ointment.  I felt tired.  Too tired to even move.  I fell asleep on the couch without even turning off the lights.

Back in the Day Take Ten: 2/25/2010

I'm not sure where this one came from, but it's a timeless perspective.  The last paragraph seems out of place.  I may have been starting to write a different piece in the same document.  But whatev:

I’m the single type.  Always have been.  The amount of my post-pubescent life spent in a relationship has been extremely limited.  I don’t really know why.  Perhaps I’m too picky about the person I want to share that part of my life with.  Maybe I’m just too shy.  Whatever the reason, I’m usually alone.  And I’ve always been okay with it.  I’m an independent, stubborn person and alone is sometimes better for me.  But I’m not even close to being the same person I was even two years ago.  Things change.  Experiences happen.  And memories cause tenderness that isn’t so easy to forget.  Sometimes I wonder how things would have been different if I had made different choices.  But it’ll be forever a mystery.  All that remains is to charge faithfully forward, knowing that against all odds everything always works out for the best.

But after so long of it…it gets lonely.  It makes me look back at everything that could have been.  All the Mr. Wrongs that I wanted so badly to be Rights.  I remember all things that I’ve done wrong and all the bad decision I’ve made.  All the heartache that could’ve been avoided.  I realize I might be tender still.  I might be avoiding love.

 

Do you ever wonder what kind of greatness you were destined for?  Everyone has a purpose in life.  It may not seem obvious but it is true.

Back in the Day Take Nine: 8/13/2009

Another intro I must have written for a dating site:

Love is exactly like a game of musical chairs.  Everyone scrambling around trying to grab a good one before they’re all taken.  Being faced with the threat of having to sit the rest of the game out.  Forever.  But me, I just go with the flow of the music.  Even when it stops I keep dancing, for in my head the beat lives on.  I don’t know if I’m original enough to adopt the phrase “marching to the beat of her own drum” but, if I had a drum I would definitely play something you’ve never before heard.  Which brings me to my next point.  I love contractions.  And fragments.  They excite me a little.  And semicolons.  If you use semicolons properly I am yours forever.  When it’s not about grammar or music it’s all about the laughter.  What is life and love without laughter?  The ha ha’s and hee hee’s never grow old, even when your face is falling off from using smiling muscles you didn’t know you had.  Man that is a work out if ever there was one.  Here are examples of things that are always funny:

Stupid glasses, hats, etc.

Recitations from favorite movies done in mimicked voices

The Macarena

Trying to walk in a straight line after spinning

Also, you should know I’m not a representative from the feminine community.  I love being dolled up.  Sometimes.  Except, I’m much better at climbing trees and reading books than patiently doing hair and makeup.  And I’m forever in love with jeans and sneakers.  If I can get away with them, you better believe I will.  In many ways I’m a contradiction unto myself.  But at least (despite my sarcasm) I’m real. 

Although you’re not required to love or like it by any means, you must accept my opera, musicals, and Disney kicks.  I love my music and it comes in all forms.  And for your information, I don’t care if you are loyal to Batman, Wolverine, Spiderman, or Captain America, Superman is and always will be the number one hero in the entire existence of the world.  So there.

The ABC’s of my smiles (and this is hard): alphabetizing, baking, coatis, doughnuts, elephantastic, fantasy, giganticness, horses, ice cream, juggling (although I can’t), kitties, ladybugs, music, Namaste (it’s fun to say), orangutans, pie, quiet, rain, squishy, travel, unplanned, vagueness, words, x-actly, Yunnanosaurus, zesting.

I’m a random person with random thoughts and ideas.  I spent my undergraduate years studying Psychology and Communication, but please don’t ask me to psychoanalyze you.  I’m a lover of animals, cheesecake, and books and I don’t fit into categories.  I adore common sense and rationality.  Despite my love for all things fantasy, I think realistically.  I like people and the way they are in the real world.  I watch and I wonder.  Most importantly, I take life as it comes which means that it is unpredictable, which also means that I may not be here tomorrow.  Conclusion: take advantage of the time given to you now or you might never have another chance.

Back in the Day Take Eight: 8/13/2009

I even now sometimes have to stop and define all aspects of life.  It's amazing to see how over the years so many things have changed dramatically, but so many are exactly the time.

Do you ever have those days where you feel the need to re-evaluate who you are? You force yourself to sit down and ponder what you know about yourself. This is what I know:

I know that I love rain and kittens. I know that I can raise each eyebrow independently. I know that nothing makes me happier than laughing and nothing makes me sadder than wanting to be happy but not fulfilling that desire. I know that I wake up each day with the intent of living my life to the best of my ability…and then go to bed each night wondering where I went wrong. I know that I try my best at everything that I do with the intent of succeeding and achieving all things positive. I know that I suffer the consequences for my mistakes while always trying to turn it into a learning experience. I know that I want to be better and someday I will be. I know that I want to travel the world and see what each place has to offer. I know that nothing fascinates me more than humans and I cannot help but constantly wonder what makes people behave in particular ways. I know that I love to people-watch and make up stories in my head about those that I observe. I know that someday I want a big house with horses and a library. I know I will eventually own every single Disney movie ever made. I know that every person I meet in my life is important and leaves an imprint on me so I am very tentative to let them walk away from me forever. I know that I am partial to sad songs and poetry, but will never turn down the more joyful ones. I know that I’m terribly romantic, but never seem to be able to incorporate those emotions into my life here in the real world. I know that I’m just a girl searching for what everyone else is searching for: happiness. I want to be happy with myself and with the people around me. I want to learn and grow and be silly all at the same time. I want to be able to scream random things at the top of my lungs at very random moments in time just for the sake of being random. I want to live life to the fullest and enjoy every moment of it, with the people that I love most as well as perfect strangers. All of whom are also on the endless hunt for that evasive form of happiness.

This is who I am. Not completely, but an abruptly brief overview. I am not here to pretend to be things that I am not. I am me and that is all that I can ever be. As well as all you should wish of me.