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Feb. 6th, 2008 06:00 pmCars suck.
/cryptic
/cryptic
Feb. 6th, 2008
(no subject)
Feb. 6th, 2008 10:49 pmPart of starting to get my head sorted out is trying to get to know the person that I've become while I wasn't paying attention.
You wouldn't think it was hard to get to know yourself, but then you're not me. I'm no good at getting to know people, and to suddenly realize that I can't count on my mainstays--am I really a writer if I haven't put anything to paper in almost a year, am I really a mathy type when I go whole weeks without even thinking about integrals and differential equations, am I really a workaholic now I've found more fun things to hide myself in, am I really that responsible one now that my friends have grown up and I don't have to be the designated driver anymore?--anyways, it's disorienting. I'm not my history, not anymore, but it is a part of me, I guess.
So I'm trying to get to know myself, and it doesn't help that I'm running away constantly. It's like I'm afraid to get to know myself cause hey, maybe I won't like myself. So it comes down to little factoids:
SUBJECT: Zana
LIKES: avacados, dark chocolate, good fiction with complex characters, philosophy, slash, ecology, amusing conspiracy theories
DISLIKES: the Maryland DMV, buying clothes, projectile ketchup, cleaning my room, the medical establishment
Doesn't give me much of an idea of what makes me tick.
And it's not much use trying to get to know me through my friends. The other night H, in the middle of a discussion about smoking pot with one's parents (I haven't, she has), said to me, "Anyways, it's been a few years. You're the person I'd go to if I wanted to smoke out now." I looked back at her and said, "But you're my go-to person for illicit substances. Well, shit." And then we felt old. Apparently, old is when you've gone so long not smoking out that you don't have a source when you want to.
On a related note, a friend has learned how to make ice cream and looked up on the internet how to make pot ice cream. Only he can't find a source, either. We all suck.
Erm, lost the thread there. Oh right: getting to know myself. My point is: I spend so much time in my own head, you'd think I'd know myself pretty well by now. But I don't.
I keep reading fiction revolving around "How well can one person really know another?" Even if you're related, even if you're married, you only get a slice. But with myself, I don't know who the fuck I am. This may be an indication that I need to get the fuck back into therapy. But first I need to get to the point where I know that I actually want to get to know myself.
...I swear, I can't have a normal nervous breakdown like anyone else, can I? Noooo, I have to be the one with issues nobody else seems to share. Where am I supposed to find a support group for "coming out of years of depression, not sure whether I'm an interesting human being now that I'm not navel-gazing anymore"???
You wouldn't think it was hard to get to know yourself, but then you're not me. I'm no good at getting to know people, and to suddenly realize that I can't count on my mainstays--am I really a writer if I haven't put anything to paper in almost a year, am I really a mathy type when I go whole weeks without even thinking about integrals and differential equations, am I really a workaholic now I've found more fun things to hide myself in, am I really that responsible one now that my friends have grown up and I don't have to be the designated driver anymore?--anyways, it's disorienting. I'm not my history, not anymore, but it is a part of me, I guess.
So I'm trying to get to know myself, and it doesn't help that I'm running away constantly. It's like I'm afraid to get to know myself cause hey, maybe I won't like myself. So it comes down to little factoids:
SUBJECT: Zana
LIKES: avacados, dark chocolate, good fiction with complex characters, philosophy, slash, ecology, amusing conspiracy theories
DISLIKES: the Maryland DMV, buying clothes, projectile ketchup, cleaning my room, the medical establishment
Doesn't give me much of an idea of what makes me tick.
And it's not much use trying to get to know me through my friends. The other night H, in the middle of a discussion about smoking pot with one's parents (I haven't, she has), said to me, "Anyways, it's been a few years. You're the person I'd go to if I wanted to smoke out now." I looked back at her and said, "But you're my go-to person for illicit substances. Well, shit." And then we felt old. Apparently, old is when you've gone so long not smoking out that you don't have a source when you want to.
On a related note, a friend has learned how to make ice cream and looked up on the internet how to make pot ice cream. Only he can't find a source, either. We all suck.
Erm, lost the thread there. Oh right: getting to know myself. My point is: I spend so much time in my own head, you'd think I'd know myself pretty well by now. But I don't.
I keep reading fiction revolving around "How well can one person really know another?" Even if you're related, even if you're married, you only get a slice. But with myself, I don't know who the fuck I am. This may be an indication that I need to get the fuck back into therapy. But first I need to get to the point where I know that I actually want to get to know myself.
...I swear, I can't have a normal nervous breakdown like anyone else, can I? Noooo, I have to be the one with issues nobody else seems to share. Where am I supposed to find a support group for "coming out of years of depression, not sure whether I'm an interesting human being now that I'm not navel-gazing anymore"???