void of course

the earth will swing us, as she goes

Posted by sailorstakewarning on August 6, 2010

i am super super frustrated today. it’s extremely busy at work, which is good becauses the day goes by quicker, but the work is inconsistent, in that i am writing orders i shouldn’t have to because one of our other centers doesn’t seem to know how even though that is their job. a rep just asked me how to contact the help desk, when i helped her put a ticket in last week & she has been working for her company for several years. i consistently see people get away with things they should not, such as being late every day, not completing their work or not listening to procedures & following them correctly.

i woke up late, & clearly on the wrong side of the bed. i am always second, apparently no matter who i hang around or who i am with. & while my opinion matters, it is often still dismissed. i was thinking pretty seriously last night about looking to live in a lighthouse, which, the more i think about it, the more it appeals to me. i love my friends & the people around me, but in the end, all i am is me. & if i am only first to myself, no matter what, then what difference does it make, being alone? When i think of all the people in the world who have gone through the same, struggled with the ordinary-ness of every day life, it comforts me to know that there isn’t always just this. i can make things bigger & better for myself; i just have to figure out how. & it always comes back to the writing. i have such an urge to write – not poetry of course, which i often find overdramatic & stilted, depending on the author. (i have an irrational dislike of people who think that writing poetry is going to make them seem more mysterious or deep, instead of writing merely because they just have to get it out.) i write because it’s a release of sorts, one that painting used to give me but came across as so ordinary when i examined my own work. of course writing is the same in that way too – interpretation is in the eye of the beholder. & the more i read the more i understand that as a whole, humans think much the same way, & actually interpret many things the same, although they may evoke different emotions.

it is one of my mother’s undying wishes that i become some form of writer; perhaps because i’ve always enjoyed english, or perhaps because i have a peculiar form of writing style that she likes. i’d like to write because i’m afraid that if i don’t eventually, my own emotions brought on by daily life’s ups & downs, will eat me alive until i become some sort of shell of a person. i want too much. but in retrospect, is that so bad? & when i stress out over the fact that so many people out there are important to someone because they’ve made themselves so, & i am unable to do so for myself, i just remind myself that someday, i’ll be important to the universe, to humanity. albeit, perhaps in some inexplicable way, but i will be. whether by my writing, or by some imprint i will have made on our species. but i will be more than i am today, at this moment. how can i not? how can you not? we are all children of this earth & all here for a reason.

how can you not be?

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