solitude, uninterrupted (pt1)
(aug 28, 2001)

It's been a rather overwhelming month. One doesn't turn 21 too many times in one's life, so I'd tell my invisible (and free) therapist that that was the main reason of my neurosis this month.

Except it wasn't that at all. Okay, for some reason it got me thinking about lipsticks and wrinkle creams (the first I rarely use, and seeing me applying it would probably be a reason to declare a world emergency event, the latter I hope never have to use before I'm 25.). Yet if anything the realization that I now am officially an adult and am expected to deal with things in a calm, composed, adult-like manner has actually helped me to deal with things in a calm, composed and adult-like manner.

Love is a selfish cruel mean self-destructive bitch.

It swallows you whole without even the decency to spit out your bones when it's done sucking your juicy flesh from the crevices of your ribcage and taking your soul to be kept in the secret-fucking-chamber-of-the-broken-hearted.

See? Calm, composed, and very adult-like.

But seriously, I'm feeling rather good about things right now. At least I don't feel like I have to slog away day after day living a menial unnoted existence, one where a well-placed slit on the wrist doesn't sound like a really horrible idea. Depression is a selfish cruel mean self-destructive bitch too, but you probably already know that.

On a general scale of things, I'm feeling like a huge ray of sunshine this week. Kept myself busy with my animation projects and sleeping late and waking up even later and skipping classes. I didn't even feel remotely bad about having to spend the weekend alone. After almost two years of living alone I have finally learnt to appreciate it. I think it's important to learn to enjoy your own company, in case something like what happened to that Tom Hanks character in that Survivor-like movie happens to you. At least you won't have to go as far as to try to maintain an intellectual conversation with a sport equipment.

Although that's probably not such a bad idea. I probably should get myself a volley ball, too.

No. I think I like this solitude. I have my own thinking space. I have my own karaoke-singing, tap-dancing space. I have my own self-reconstructing space. After all these crazy months I've learnt that if you can stand being alone for a week and not be too mopey about it, nothing much can ruin your day.

Cliched and tired as this sounds (except maybe if you're an Oprah fan), I'm relearning to find myself again. I think it was Jewel (or was it Oprah? Hmm.) who said something that goes on something like this:

"Once you start putting your self-esteem in someone else's hands, it'll all just go downhill after that."

Now I realize how gnawingly true that is.


listening to:
- Nowhere To Go by Melissa Etheridge (this song just gets to me right now. Also I'm in my Melissa Etheridge craze phase at the moment. She's such a cool rock chick. I wish I can play guitar and look good in leather pants.)
- I Want To Be In Love, also by Melissa Etheridge (this song makes me happy, in spite of things)

- The Slate Diaries (I know I know, why pay 35 dollars for the paperback version when you can read it for free on the net? But nothing beats holding a book and reading it in comfortable mannerless positions. Try doing that sitting bent on a chair soaking up radiation from your monitor.)
- Bad Boy by Olivia Goldsmith (my lovely friends gave this to me for my 21st birthday. You know you should start worrying about your reading habits when your friends give you a book titled 'Bad Boy')