I'm a half asser. I know what I need to do, but I don't put too much effort into it because I feel like it will come to nothing. I've been jog hunting, but not to the level where I should be because I hate interviewing and being judged. I hat the idea that I am going to meet someone for the first time, that person looks at my resume then asks me some dumb ass questions and decides that I'm not good enough for a job that monkeys could do.
Yes, I'm insecure. Yes, I'm being stupid right now. I felt so much better when I was in school. I felt more secure on a campus filled with people my age who were going through the same stuff as I was. I enjoyed learning. I may have been an average student, I blame my laziness on that, but at least I was doing something productive. I was getting an education.
I should have been like my sister and gone above and beyond with my education. I don't have as much passion in certain things as she does and I find myself constantly comparing myself to her. I shouldn't, but I do. She was the scientist, I was the English Major. I wish I had a passion for more practical things like science or math, but I don't. I love math, I did well in math and I find it a bit relaxing, but when I close my eyes and see myself, I'm not wearing a lab coat. I'm not sitting at a desk answering other people's phone calls. I'm standing in front of people, entertaining them in some way. People are reading my books, listening to my songs and buying my artwork. The Universe did not give me this my voice or my mind to keep it hidden just for me. When I sing, I do it so people can hear me.
Why can't I just go with my instinct? My brain is telling me to shape up and get the job. Get out of the house and work in some office. My heart is telling me that I won't be happy unless I'm doing what I love. I love to be artistic. I love to be creative. If Harold Camping is right, the world is ending next year which means I need to get cracking NOW!!!
Please don't think I'm weird, or do. Whatever. I'm just trying to find my niche in this effed up world. I know I'm not going to be on this planet forever and I can't predict when I'm going to go, so why not live like I'm dying?
We are dreamers. We wish on shooting stars and stay up until 11:11 pm to wish on our clocks. We all have things that we want but are too afraid to go for. Either we cannot afford what we want or we don't feel worthy of what we want. All-in-all, something is stopping us from going after the things that we want the most. Whether it is a job or a car, a new opportunity or a new relationship, you can wish for it all you want, but you won't get it until you convince yourself that you, in fact, deserve it. As corny as this may sound, you have to believe that what you want most is already yours. Think of it like this, you are shopping online for a book that you really want. You put it in your cart and you go to checkout. You put in your credit card info and your shipping/billing address. You have purchased the book. That book is yours. It isn't physically in your hands yet, but that book is legitimately yours. When you finally receive that book, you are happy, but you aren't surprised or anything. Why are you not surprised? Because you already knew and believed that it was coming. In your head, that book was already yours 5-7 days ago. The day you realized what you wanted was the day you ordered it. Believe that is is coming to you. Believe that it is already yours. Because it is.
I actually finished a story a couple of days ago. I was so proud of myself.
It's a very short story, about 5 pages long. It's about a young bitter woman who stumbles upon a wedding, makes a strange friend (the bride) and makes an interesting discovery involving her ex beau.
I came up with this story about a year ago when I asked myself, "How would I act if I crashed a wedding and found out that the groom was my ex?" Would I be devastated, shocked beyond belief, or happy for him?
My answer may not seem realistic, but it felt honest to me. They say that when you write, you should write what you know. The only thing I know is myself so I figured I would let the story flow naturally, as if I were living the life of my heroine.
My heroine Robin, like I, wants to be in love, but has been hurt badly by a certain gender. She, and I, has turned brokenhearted-ness into bitterness and in turn has "sworn to loathe men for all eternity" (tell me what film adaptation that quotation that was from and you get a smiley face and a shout out).
I don't want to give too much away because I really want to develop this story into something worth publishing. I also have another project that needs to be finished. That one is a little darker and crazier. I'm really looking forward to finishing that one. Hopefully that story will see an end by this weekend.
I've been looking up some literary magazines, both print and online. I'll let you know how that goes. I'm starting to get excited about stuff again because the weather isn't so gloomy anymore and my mom is a little more mobile now.
I'm in the mood to write an essay. A well researched, well thought out essay. Got any topics for me?
Right now I feel like I am in the servant's quarters of the house although I am a few feet away from my cousin and his new wife. I'm not entirely sure how old they are (not older than 35) but the wife insists on calling me Honey like I'm 12. I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt because she's just met me and she doesn't know yet. She seems very fashionable, nice and educated so I don't want to dislike her, especially since she is family now, but I have a feeling that if I met her on different terms, I probably would not like her. That's only because I'm not very nice to people I should be nice to.
I'm glad that my cousin has found himself a place in this country. He has a job, a wife and a home. He has definitely made something of himself. I remember when I first met him in Haiti 10 years ago. He looks a lot like my father, quite handsome, and he seemed very happy to have me as part of his family. I'm always happy to meet members of my family that I've never met before, but I don't like being treated like a child or being reminded of my life when I was a child.
My mother, in the presence of other Haitians, has a tendency to put me down. She loves to make my sister look like the awesome daughter who has the PhD and lives on her own. When she talks about me, on the other hand, I'm the daughter who "poco, fe demwazel". Apparently I'm not a presentable young woman yet. I'm sorry I'm not the kind of person who walks up and down the apartment looking for things to clean, meals to cook and people to serve.
According to my mother (I would add my father into these rantings but he is hardly ever around or involved to be relevant) I don't know how to speak Creole or French. Apparently I spoke Sign Language to my grandmother and my aunts when I visited them a few weeks ago.
I don't know why I always let this get to me, but I just hate the way that my mother makes people think of me. I don't enjoy having people say "keep your head up and stay focused. You'll get there." like I'm some charity case. I'm 25 years old. I may not have that awesome job yet, but I will.
All day today I've been the help. This morning I was the nanny to my brother. I made sure he was bathed, dressed and fed before school. I drove my mother to get her hair done and I waited there, annoyed, for 2 hours while she and her hairdresser yapped about the immorality of gay couples adopting children. (Apparently Christians would rather have children be orphaned by their straight parents than be saves, loved and taken care of by gay parents) By the time we got back home, my father was here and he brought some seafood (most of which I cannot eat because I am allergic) for his nephew that was scheduled to come at 3pm. After a few Regine, can you do this? Regine can you do that? I made some food for these cousins of mine. The food was cooked at 2:00, they didn't get here till 6.
I haven't heard the word please spoken sincerely since I've been here. I have, on the other hand, learned that I have two names. Regine for when I'm being scolded and Regina (emphasis on gi) for when she needs me to do something for her. Either way, I'm bummed.
I don't like how I'm constantly here complaining about stuff. I probably look like a pathetic ninny attached to my keyboard. I just don't have anything positive on which to report. I have hope.
...Thank goodness I live in modern society. As screwed up as it is now, it is loads better than 19th Century ridiculousness, especially when it comes to women. Thanks to the ABC daytime show, The View, and their topic on the history of the menstrual cycle, I was compelled to do a little more digging and here is what I found. Check this out:
Don't you wish all maladies could be cured with a good orgasm?
My mother has been on crutches for the last week due to surgery on her feet. I, in turn, have become her "replacement". Not the sort of replacement that can do whatever she wants along with some of the responsibilities of being Mom 2.0, but the Nanny/Maid/Chauffeur/Chef that I know she has always wanted. I, of course, obliged her because she is my mother and "she gave me life and raised me and blah blah". Although I am not enjoying this, I am glad to say that I have learned two things so far.
The first thing I've learned is that I can be a very angry person with a bad attitude. Normally, I am a very nice person. Very sweet. My friends' parents always loved me. I'm very cordial and polite. I don't swear (in public) or put people down, but I've learned that after a while doubt, worry, sadness and overall bad feelings like to jump into a cauldron and boil into an Anger Bouillon. I know that it isn't good to keep my feelings inside, and I've heard that it is good to swear on occasion. Too bad little old me would rather be pleasant than honest. Unfortunately, my "attitude" likes to seep out at the most random times. The sister makes it a thing to let me know. She always seems to be around when it happens. Hmm, I wonder why?
Apparently what I do is either, roll my eyes and suck my teeth, raise my voice, or grunt a little and then say "Oh my Gooooooddddd". The sister would then say, "Regine (or Ninoy or Neener horrible, I know), you have such a bad attitude. You need to fix that." I would then look at her, scowl and walk away.
What triggers your anger?
Good question. Well, I don't like it when people tell me what to do like I'm stupid. I don't mind being instructed, in fact, I love to learn, but when someone talks to me like I'm 2 years old, my 25 year old brain says "Oh helllllllllllll no. I know you are not going to let THAT talk to you that way." Another things that gets on my nerves is when someone puts their hands on me or touches me in some way. If you have no plans of courting me and becoming my suitor, don't touch me. For some reason, lately, being touched makes me feel belittled and powerless. Maybe a hug here or there, but that's pushing it a little.
Re, you have issues!
Tell me something I don't know!
The only thing that seems to be helping is some good belting music mostly found in the soundtrack of Wicked.
The other thing that I've learned is that people have children so that they can be taken care of when they are old. Parents put up with taking care of children so that there is a guarantee that someone will be there for them when they are old and frail. I'm bitter about this issue because my parents are cashing in big time.
When a child becomes independent and free-thinking, the parent says "I took care of you for such-and-such time and now you are acting like and ungrateful brat". My response to this is, "Did I ask you to do that?"
Re, you are an ungrateful brat!
I don't think so!
This is how I see it. A child is conceived due to vicious planning or irresponsibility and negligence. The child is finally born into a world that welcomes it with a slap on the behind, an amputation of the umbilical chord and another cutting for males. Then we are forced into incestuous acts by "receiving sustenance" from our mothers. What kind of world is this? Our parents HAVE to take care of us. Why? Because they have to apologize for the world that they brought us into. In their 18 years of apologizing, they have learned to twist it into a thing that we should be thankful for. After we are 18, we are sent off to fend for ourselves because they figured they did enough groveling and they hope that we aren't on to their scheme. Now we are brain washed into believing that we owe them for taking care us and providing for us when really what they did was keep us alive long enough to learn a few tricks, live a little, brainwash a new set of idiots and eventually DIE!
If all of that sounds ridiculous to you, that would be because you were well brainwashed or you are a glass-half-full kind of a person.
Ok, that's enough. Do you see the sorts of things I write when fueled by anger? At least I amused you for a little bit. Haha