Life's Illusions

Warning: I am writing this from a hotel room in North Carolina where I've been since Sunday assisting with the final conversion for the company that I work with. I'm sitting here trying to fall asleep because I have an early and long day ahead of me, and let's face it: I'm an old lady who needs her sleep. But instead I find myself painfully awake. Thinking. Mulling. Questioning. So if you're tired of the "Ruth whines about her life" format, you might want to skip this one....

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Thinking is a dangerous thing for me most of the time. I spend the majority of my time occupying myself with things that distract me from...well....myself. Thinking takes me places that are painful and difficult, but ultimately necessary. When I started this blog, I intended it to be a tool on a journey of self discovery. An absurdly lofty goal. You cannot force discovery. You can only live your life the best you can (and sometimes the worse you can) and hope that somewhere along the way something starts to make sense. We spend our entire lives getting to know the people around us, our friends, our family, even the people we don't really like that much. So much time and energy is spent learning about these people. I looked into the mirror this morning and realized that I don't quite recognize the person staring back at me anymore. Now maybe it's the fabulous new haircut I got (Green Peridot in Midtown Manor. Ask for Lauren. She's really good. And has awesome tattoo.) but I think that so much has changed for me and so much of me has changed in the last 5 years or so. Some of it has been sudden but mostly it's been slow and subtle. Like the seasons changing. One day it's 100 degrees outside, but ever so slightly it starts getting cooler and night. The sun starts setting earlier and earlier. And all of a sudden it's the middle of October and you're left there wondering where the time went.

I used to think I had it all figured out. The vanity of the young, I suppose. I've recently realized that I have nothing figured out. Nothing. I don't know where I'm going, what I'm doing, what I want, or how to get it even if I did know how. Once, seems like ages ago, I had a Plan. It was a grand Plan, full of hard work, ambition, drive, and determination. It was a Plan that required sacrifice, but ultimately (in my foolish young mind) would pay for itself once I got what I wanted, what I thought I needed to be happy.

That's an interesting word to me. Happy. Happiness. So fleeting. So peaceful. Once you find it, it becomes increasingly difficult to hold onto. But if you can...Losing it sometimes feels more painful than never having it at all.

Sorry. I have a tendency to be over dramatic at times.

That was the purpose of the Plan. To make me Happy. And everything I did, everything I was, was designed to fit the Plan. I became a person towards one specific goal. And for awhile, that was enough. It was more than enough. I was more than enough.

But as all grand Plans have a tendency to do, things change and Plans can be stagnant things and can't evolve. So they are abandoned, locked in a hope chest filled with old yearbooks and kindergarten report cards and a multitude of unfinished projects. And as I am want to do from time to time I pull down that hope chest (which is really just a plastic bin from Target that I got when I moved to college my freshman year and have been toting around since) and browse through it at the person I used to be, or at least the person I thought I was. Maybe everyone else sees someone different and I am none the wiser. When I go through my previous hopes and dreams, musings and the like, I feel sometimes that I am looking at a stranger. But that was me. At some point I was that person. How can you not even recognize yourself?

I have to wonder who I am now. And if I would like myself. If my 22 year old self were to meet me today, would I be proud of who I was? Or disappointed? Would she understand? Do I owe her anything? I know my 13 year old self would be disgusted at the fact that I can't even walk up the stair without getting winded.

These are this things that keep me up at night. These are the thoughts that tumble around in my tired little head. That cause me to make more Grand Plans that I know at my core are hollow attempts at feeling like I have a purpose.

Once I wanted to inspire. How can I do that when I can't even inspire myself?

I labeled this blog "My Inner Fat Kid" in the hopes that it would inspire me to remember what I once wanted, what I hoped to be. Now I don't know who that is anymore.

So I stay up all night, typing in a quiet, lonely hotel room with nothing to distract me from my own thoughts and feelings that I try so desperately to avoid through a variety of methods. But even after all of this I am no closer to answering any of my questions.

I should get some sleep. I have a full day of distractions early this morning.

Net Neutrality

This is really scary.

http://www.internetyouneed.com/

Sweet Dee

This weekend was good and bad for me. I'm going to start with the bad in hopes of ending this on a high note. I have a tendency to blog only when things are really shitty and I'm trying to focus on the good things this year instead of the bad. Call it a New Year's resolution if you want. I just want to spend my time feeling positive about things instead of negative.

Sunday morning I woke up and went in my room to check on my hamster, Sweet Dee aka Deemous, as I do every morning. Usually I walk in the room, tap on her cage a little to see where she had buried herself the night before. She'll poke her nose out, sniff at the bars near my fingers, scratch and try to bite me, and I'll give her a treat for her efforts. It's a fun little game we play. Or used to play. This Sunday I walked in and tapped on her cage. When she didn't emerge right away, I became concerned that she had escaped ala a year ago. So I opened the cage and started digging around for her. I found her in the corner curled up and not moving. And cold. And stiff.

Yeah my hamster died. Which sucks. When we got her we read that they don't live very long, but I wasn't ready for this. I had just taken her out in her ball to let her run around on Wednesday and she seemed fine. Not old and feeble and about to kick it. So I don't know what happend between Saturday night when I said good night and Sunday morning. I have this overwhelming feeling of guilt that it was something that I neglected to do. It was too cold in her room, or there was something wrong with her food. I guess she had been more stationary of late, not using her wheel as much. I feel more guilty about the fact that I don't think I paid as much attention to her as I should have. I used to spend a lot of time with her when I was in school. Many nights when I was up late working she was my only source of company. I'd be painting or drafting and say something about how stupid everything was and how tired I was or how much I wish I jsut had a normal job (little did I know!!) and she's stop running for a little and poke her head out at me as if to say "Stop whining and get to work. I have to run on this damn wheel all night long as my only source of entertainment and the cats bug me whenever they get a chance and you don't me complaining. Now go get me a carrot."

But after I graduated and got my so called "normal job" I stopped spending so much time with her. I started avoiding my room because it just reminded me of the fact that I have no direction when it comes to my life and that once I felt sure about where I was going and what I was doing and that I just felt like I was floating without purpose. and by proxy I guess I was avoiding her too. Our interaction became limited to "good morning" and "good night" and the occasional cage cleaning.

I realize that to some people she was just a hamster. But to me she was a pet and I'll miss her.
Sleep well Sweet Dee.

I'll talk about the good in another blog. This one is hers.