pink insanity!!!
1 week ago
24.11.08
21.11.08
False Securities
As I look around me, it seems that everyone is searching for something.
We dedicate our lives to this search, looking for it in God, religion, music, relationships, sex, drugs, art, science.
Do we even know what we are looking for? I don't. I wondered for the longest time what it is, exactly, we search so diligently for, what it is that we fail to find, and end up waandering lost through life.
At frist I thought we were searching for the meaning of life. After all, it is the age old question, the one people have debated and died for throughout history. It seemed like a good enough answer, but somehow, when applied to the reality of those around me, it didn't quite fit. If it did, we would be nothing more then walking existential crisises.
And we're not.
So, while it sound nice and profound, the meaning of life is not what were are searching for. Not truely. Its merely a sideshow along the way, but not the actual journey.
You are born.
Some are born into luckier circumstances then others. You go to school, get the best education the government can buy (God help us all on that on). You graduate. You go to work, or you may go to college, which will inevidably lead you to work as well. There is nothing wrong with work. It creates discipline and molds character. We go to work to get money, because we live in a society founded on money.
Yet we keep searching. And whatever answer we find, we find in different places. Often times, even after we've thought we found the answer, a little while later, we are searching again.
I realized today, while drive home, what it is people are seeking, striving for, what they want.
We do not want to know the meaning of life. Sure, it's fun to think about and debate, but in the end, we don't want to know. If someone was to tell us "This is your purpose in life," we would probably, in our human folly, reject it.
We want security.
Ever since we huddled together in caves, cringing at distant howls of the untamed wilderness, we've wanted security.
We go to school, to get and education, to get a job, to get money, because in this capitolistic culture or ours, money buy security.
You have the perfect house, the perfect wife, the perfect kids, the perfect neighborhood, because perfection is a sign of security. Anything imperfect cannot be secure, so the logic goes.
When the towers came crashing down, we signed away our rights, because we want security. People with too much freedom will pursue dangerous activties, threatening the perfect security we've built for ourselves.
We are constantly seeking it, and when we've found it, we dedicate our lives to maintaining it. We create levels of status, which we strive to ascend not for riches or respect(though they are nice), but for security. We create our identity based on the things that give us the comfort of security.
Security in our jobs.
Security in our relationships.
Security in our future.
Security in our afterlife.
We do this because the future is unknown, and we don't like the unknown. We fear it. We hold it in contempt and disdain. We hate unexpected surprises.
We do this because if we spend all of our lives focusing on attaining and maintaining security, we won't have to face the ugly insecurities that lie within us. They will be left alone in the dark corners of our soul, forgotten and ignored, never dying, but simply waiting, paitently, for the day our securities come tumbling down.
There is a cruel bit of irony in all of this, when you step back and look at the bigger picture, because in all reality, there really is no security.
It is simply an illusion.
The education, the job, the marriage, the house, the family; There is no security in any of these. A degree can be rendered useless by new scientific advancements, a job can disappear in a wave of recession, a marriage is never guaranteed, a home can burn, and a family can be torn apart in a thousand horrific ways.
And whats ironic is that we know this. We know, honestly, that there is no true security in any of these things, in anything life has to offer. We know it is all an elaborate illusion we've create for ourselves, a false reality we've built so that we don't have to face the actual reality. But we keep coming back to these things, reveling in the ficitional securities they provide. We say we care for these things, and maybe we do, but we care more for the secruity they provide us with. In truth, that may be why we care for them in the first place. These things offer us the illusion of security, and we love them for it.
Security is the ultimate form of power, because it is proof we have power over ourselves and our future. We have conquered that dispised unknown.
And to all that, I say simple this:
Fuck it.
To me, from where I'm standing, its not worth it.
I go to college not for a piece of paper and 5 to 6 figures a year, but because I enjoy the experience, and I enjoy learning. Education has long been a favorite past time.
I grew up in an environment that could be very unstable at times, and I learned early on how little security there is in families. I won't deny myself mine, but I don't depend on them for security either.
I go into Medical Technology not for the money or job security, but because it is something that interests me, and something that is desperately needed. I love the medical field, but if I were to try to become a doctor, I would probably lose my mind. I prefer medical technology, thank you very much.
In our mindless scramble to secure ourselves, we forget about the conditions of the less fortunate, leaving them to fend for themselves. I refuse to do that. The homeless, the junkies, the innocent, the addicts, the diseased, the guilty, the weak, they are all merely human in the end, and I will help them the best I can, all of them.
Love. Love is the most dangerous of all. Nothing threats security more then love, and we deny ourselves the true extent of it, usually for petty reasons. Perhaps we've been hurt before. So? Let it go, and move on. Love the next one openly and without hesitation, without the baggage of the previous relationship. Maybe he really is working late at the office. Nothing in this world offers true security, especially relationships, despite the fact we look to relationships more then anything for security.
Let go of this meaningless pursuit of perfection. The security it promises is but an illusion, and the reality around us, while at times less pleasent, is much more fulfilling. Let go of what you think you want, what you think you need in order to become a better person.
Appriciate what you have now.
Tomorrow it may not be there.
We dedicate our lives to this search, looking for it in God, religion, music, relationships, sex, drugs, art, science.
Do we even know what we are looking for? I don't. I wondered for the longest time what it is, exactly, we search so diligently for, what it is that we fail to find, and end up waandering lost through life.
At frist I thought we were searching for the meaning of life. After all, it is the age old question, the one people have debated and died for throughout history. It seemed like a good enough answer, but somehow, when applied to the reality of those around me, it didn't quite fit. If it did, we would be nothing more then walking existential crisises.
And we're not.
So, while it sound nice and profound, the meaning of life is not what were are searching for. Not truely. Its merely a sideshow along the way, but not the actual journey.
You are born.
Some are born into luckier circumstances then others. You go to school, get the best education the government can buy (God help us all on that on). You graduate. You go to work, or you may go to college, which will inevidably lead you to work as well. There is nothing wrong with work. It creates discipline and molds character. We go to work to get money, because we live in a society founded on money.
Yet we keep searching. And whatever answer we find, we find in different places. Often times, even after we've thought we found the answer, a little while later, we are searching again.
I realized today, while drive home, what it is people are seeking, striving for, what they want.
We do not want to know the meaning of life. Sure, it's fun to think about and debate, but in the end, we don't want to know. If someone was to tell us "This is your purpose in life," we would probably, in our human folly, reject it.
We want security.
Ever since we huddled together in caves, cringing at distant howls of the untamed wilderness, we've wanted security.
We go to school, to get and education, to get a job, to get money, because in this capitolistic culture or ours, money buy security.
You have the perfect house, the perfect wife, the perfect kids, the perfect neighborhood, because perfection is a sign of security. Anything imperfect cannot be secure, so the logic goes.
When the towers came crashing down, we signed away our rights, because we want security. People with too much freedom will pursue dangerous activties, threatening the perfect security we've built for ourselves.
We are constantly seeking it, and when we've found it, we dedicate our lives to maintaining it. We create levels of status, which we strive to ascend not for riches or respect(though they are nice), but for security. We create our identity based on the things that give us the comfort of security.
Security in our jobs.
Security in our relationships.
Security in our future.
Security in our afterlife.
We do this because the future is unknown, and we don't like the unknown. We fear it. We hold it in contempt and disdain. We hate unexpected surprises.
We do this because if we spend all of our lives focusing on attaining and maintaining security, we won't have to face the ugly insecurities that lie within us. They will be left alone in the dark corners of our soul, forgotten and ignored, never dying, but simply waiting, paitently, for the day our securities come tumbling down.
There is a cruel bit of irony in all of this, when you step back and look at the bigger picture, because in all reality, there really is no security.
It is simply an illusion.
The education, the job, the marriage, the house, the family; There is no security in any of these. A degree can be rendered useless by new scientific advancements, a job can disappear in a wave of recession, a marriage is never guaranteed, a home can burn, and a family can be torn apart in a thousand horrific ways.
And whats ironic is that we know this. We know, honestly, that there is no true security in any of these things, in anything life has to offer. We know it is all an elaborate illusion we've create for ourselves, a false reality we've built so that we don't have to face the actual reality. But we keep coming back to these things, reveling in the ficitional securities they provide. We say we care for these things, and maybe we do, but we care more for the secruity they provide us with. In truth, that may be why we care for them in the first place. These things offer us the illusion of security, and we love them for it.
Security is the ultimate form of power, because it is proof we have power over ourselves and our future. We have conquered that dispised unknown.
And to all that, I say simple this:
Fuck it.
To me, from where I'm standing, its not worth it.
I go to college not for a piece of paper and 5 to 6 figures a year, but because I enjoy the experience, and I enjoy learning. Education has long been a favorite past time.
I grew up in an environment that could be very unstable at times, and I learned early on how little security there is in families. I won't deny myself mine, but I don't depend on them for security either.
I go into Medical Technology not for the money or job security, but because it is something that interests me, and something that is desperately needed. I love the medical field, but if I were to try to become a doctor, I would probably lose my mind. I prefer medical technology, thank you very much.
In our mindless scramble to secure ourselves, we forget about the conditions of the less fortunate, leaving them to fend for themselves. I refuse to do that. The homeless, the junkies, the innocent, the addicts, the diseased, the guilty, the weak, they are all merely human in the end, and I will help them the best I can, all of them.
Love. Love is the most dangerous of all. Nothing threats security more then love, and we deny ourselves the true extent of it, usually for petty reasons. Perhaps we've been hurt before. So? Let it go, and move on. Love the next one openly and without hesitation, without the baggage of the previous relationship. Maybe he really is working late at the office. Nothing in this world offers true security, especially relationships, despite the fact we look to relationships more then anything for security.
Let go of this meaningless pursuit of perfection. The security it promises is but an illusion, and the reality around us, while at times less pleasent, is much more fulfilling. Let go of what you think you want, what you think you need in order to become a better person.
Appriciate what you have now.
Tomorrow it may not be there.
19.11.08
Update
Its been a while since I've written. Its kinda hard to blog when you live in a place with no internet. Hopefully that will change soon.
I hung out with Jeff last night. Well, as when I got there he was falling asleep, and I was pretty tired from school, so I curled up next to him for a nice hour nap.
I'm still not sure what he thinks of me, but I like him.
I hung out with Jeff last night. Well, as when I got there he was falling asleep, and I was pretty tired from school, so I curled up next to him for a nice hour nap.
I'm still not sure what he thinks of me, but I like him.
12.11.08
What Else Is There To Say?
Living alone is very lonely.
I couldn't stop crying last night because the overwhelming loneliness was unbearable. Wolfe and his girlfriend stopped by for an hour to talk, and it was good to have the company, but as soon as they left, I felt lonely again.
Meh.
On a more positive side, I did manage to break through my artist's block and started on a pretty cool painting, a punk style. I think I'll pierce the canvas and add body jewelry once I've finished the paint part. Once again, it involves a naked woman. Why do I always revert to painting naked chicks? Must be the boobs.
I need more paint.
And more comics to read. Jeff and Z have both recommended Walking Dead.
And a fedora. Because everything is better with a fedora
I couldn't stop crying last night because the overwhelming loneliness was unbearable. Wolfe and his girlfriend stopped by for an hour to talk, and it was good to have the company, but as soon as they left, I felt lonely again.
Meh.
On a more positive side, I did manage to break through my artist's block and started on a pretty cool painting, a punk style. I think I'll pierce the canvas and add body jewelry once I've finished the paint part. Once again, it involves a naked woman. Why do I always revert to painting naked chicks? Must be the boobs.
I need more paint.
And more comics to read. Jeff and Z have both recommended Walking Dead.
And a fedora. Because everything is better with a fedora
9.11.08
To My Step Mother
Apparently my step mom is trying to start shit again. She told Dad that I was writing offensive material about her and Cassie on me “website” again. First off, which one? Myspace? Facebook? Blogger? She never specified, though its probably Myspace. I have no idea how she’s accessing it, I’ve checked over the privacy settings
So Terry, since you seem to take so much joy in reading my blogs, here is one specially for you, a personal blog dedicated in your honor, written by yours truly:
I don’t hate you any more.
I certainly don’t like you. But I no longer hate you.
Rather anti-climactic, I know. Maybe you’re relieved. Or perhaps a touch disappointed, hoping that I would go off on one of my rants on the abhorrent behavior you exposed me to as a child, or how much I hate you, so then you would have evidence to print out and wave in front of my father’s face, proof of how “disturbed” I am.
Sorry to disappoint. As you so often indicate, I am something of a disappointment. I’ve never been drunk, sticking to a few sips of beer when I do indulge. Remembering how much you loved alcohol, I can see how this would be a disappointment.
All bitchy quips aside, I’ve managed, after years of struggling, to get over you and your actions. This year was the year, and I cannot tell you how relieved it has made me.
I don’t hate you.
I do dislike you, but no longer hate you.
I honestly don’t envy you, Terry. You’ve led a pretty hard life at times. You were the oldest in a large family, with a father who wasn’t always around, you married young to a man who beat you, you’ve had problems with alcohol, and now, in your second marriage, you are facing difficulties. I don’t envy your hardships; I don’t have to. As good as my life is, there will be bumps along the way. Hardships which I hope to handle in a mature, graceful, and sober fashion.
Maybe it was because of your hardships that you said the things you did, committing verbal abuse with led to emotional distress and contributed to low self-esteem. Or maybe you did it because your were drunk, as you usually were when you said such things. Alcohol, as we all know, really isn’t much of an excuse; All it does it merely lower inhibitions, not change who you are, and even if it did, the choice to drink was one you made every Friday night. It all comes down to personal responsibility.
I don’t care why you did it. I don’t like to dwell in that particular part of my past, though now I can do so without breaking out into tears. I am getting better, and I am finding I no longer hate you.
I do pity you. Not in a pathetic, demeaning sort of way, but in an honest and compassionate way, with only the best intentions. Humans, when ill-treated, will exact the same behavior onto others when they have the power to do so. Psychological studies time and again have proved this. And I will willingly admit, after the way you treated me, there were times where I treated you in a dreadful manner. You apologized, and me, doubting your sincerity, seized the opportunity to bite back. I am sorry for that.
I think if humans are ever to evolve, we need to get past this behavior and progress towards forgiveness. To hang onto a grudge long enough poisons the soul, and thus the tormentor has won twice over. In the end, grudges are not worth the life we miss out on.
I’m trying to take the steps towards evolving. I forgive you. I forgave you, finally, months ago, I got over the whole thing, and moved on. For you to try to stir up shit by saying I am writing offensive things about you and Cassie, a sister I love, is horrid. At one time, I would have been angry about it. Now I merely saddened by your lack of evolution, by these accusations you create, tactics you use to split apart a family that’s already too far divided.
Life has been hard for you, any idiot with half a brain cell can see that. But I consider my life, for all its flaws, an immensely blessed life, and after years of struggle, I have reached a point where nothing you can do or say, will ever destroy that.
I don’t hate you.
I don’t like you either. Maybe one day I will. But I’m not going to hold my breath.
Instead, I am going to continue to enjoy and celebrate my life, because now I am living a life without fear. Without fear of saying something that will set you off, without fear of being reprimanded for my opinions, without fear of waking up at night to your screaming, without any fear of simply being myself. A life where I can finally be myself.
And I celebrate my life every day, with short plaid skirts and fishnets, with new piercings and (someday) colorful tattoos, with long sleepless night of studying, with good books, with loud rock concerts, with spiked hair that changes color, with a college education, with good friends and laughter, with warm cups of tea, with screaming punk and metal, with lazy Sunday mornings, with sex, with helping others, with dancing all night, and with love.
Life is beautiful Terry, and I refuse to miss out on it because of some nasty things you said while I was growing up. Life is to short to brood on you. Maybe you were right when you called me a punk. But this twisted little punk is unapologetically enjoying her life at full volume, and I’d rather go to my grave having lived well.
So Terry, since you seem to take so much joy in reading my blogs, here is one specially for you, a personal blog dedicated in your honor, written by yours truly:
I don’t hate you any more.
I certainly don’t like you. But I no longer hate you.
Rather anti-climactic, I know. Maybe you’re relieved. Or perhaps a touch disappointed, hoping that I would go off on one of my rants on the abhorrent behavior you exposed me to as a child, or how much I hate you, so then you would have evidence to print out and wave in front of my father’s face, proof of how “disturbed” I am.
Sorry to disappoint. As you so often indicate, I am something of a disappointment. I’ve never been drunk, sticking to a few sips of beer when I do indulge. Remembering how much you loved alcohol, I can see how this would be a disappointment.
All bitchy quips aside, I’ve managed, after years of struggling, to get over you and your actions. This year was the year, and I cannot tell you how relieved it has made me.
I don’t hate you.
I do dislike you, but no longer hate you.
I honestly don’t envy you, Terry. You’ve led a pretty hard life at times. You were the oldest in a large family, with a father who wasn’t always around, you married young to a man who beat you, you’ve had problems with alcohol, and now, in your second marriage, you are facing difficulties. I don’t envy your hardships; I don’t have to. As good as my life is, there will be bumps along the way. Hardships which I hope to handle in a mature, graceful, and sober fashion.
Maybe it was because of your hardships that you said the things you did, committing verbal abuse with led to emotional distress and contributed to low self-esteem. Or maybe you did it because your were drunk, as you usually were when you said such things. Alcohol, as we all know, really isn’t much of an excuse; All it does it merely lower inhibitions, not change who you are, and even if it did, the choice to drink was one you made every Friday night. It all comes down to personal responsibility.
I don’t care why you did it. I don’t like to dwell in that particular part of my past, though now I can do so without breaking out into tears. I am getting better, and I am finding I no longer hate you.
I do pity you. Not in a pathetic, demeaning sort of way, but in an honest and compassionate way, with only the best intentions. Humans, when ill-treated, will exact the same behavior onto others when they have the power to do so. Psychological studies time and again have proved this. And I will willingly admit, after the way you treated me, there were times where I treated you in a dreadful manner. You apologized, and me, doubting your sincerity, seized the opportunity to bite back. I am sorry for that.
I think if humans are ever to evolve, we need to get past this behavior and progress towards forgiveness. To hang onto a grudge long enough poisons the soul, and thus the tormentor has won twice over. In the end, grudges are not worth the life we miss out on.
I’m trying to take the steps towards evolving. I forgive you. I forgave you, finally, months ago, I got over the whole thing, and moved on. For you to try to stir up shit by saying I am writing offensive things about you and Cassie, a sister I love, is horrid. At one time, I would have been angry about it. Now I merely saddened by your lack of evolution, by these accusations you create, tactics you use to split apart a family that’s already too far divided.
Life has been hard for you, any idiot with half a brain cell can see that. But I consider my life, for all its flaws, an immensely blessed life, and after years of struggle, I have reached a point where nothing you can do or say, will ever destroy that.
I don’t hate you.
I don’t like you either. Maybe one day I will. But I’m not going to hold my breath.
Instead, I am going to continue to enjoy and celebrate my life, because now I am living a life without fear. Without fear of saying something that will set you off, without fear of being reprimanded for my opinions, without fear of waking up at night to your screaming, without any fear of simply being myself. A life where I can finally be myself.
And I celebrate my life every day, with short plaid skirts and fishnets, with new piercings and (someday) colorful tattoos, with long sleepless night of studying, with good books, with loud rock concerts, with spiked hair that changes color, with a college education, with good friends and laughter, with warm cups of tea, with screaming punk and metal, with lazy Sunday mornings, with sex, with helping others, with dancing all night, and with love.
Life is beautiful Terry, and I refuse to miss out on it because of some nasty things you said while I was growing up. Life is to short to brood on you. Maybe you were right when you called me a punk. But this twisted little punk is unapologetically enjoying her life at full volume, and I’d rather go to my grave having lived well.
This Guy
Life finally seems to have calmed down and is progressing forward (as life has a tendency to do).
I met a guy.
I'm finding myself rather excited by this. Why?
Because he's pretty damn wonderful.
He's funny, attractive, he cooks, he's covered in beautiful ink and shiny piercings.
We hung out for the first time a week ago, he cooked steak, we played pool, and watched movies. It was fun, relaxed, and he wasn't too forward. All he did was give me a back massage. No obnoxious moves or lame one-liners, or any other attempt to get in my pants. It was just a nice, relaxed evening. I feel like he respects me, or at least my limits. We hung out Thursday night after his shift and when he kissed me, he actually asked me right afterward if that was alright, as if he was afraid of over-stepping his bounds. It was kinda sweet.
Have I really gotten so used to guys just wanting sex that I've forgotten what being respected feels like?
Oh, and add to the list of his awesomeness:
He's a fucking good kisser.
I met a guy.
I'm finding myself rather excited by this. Why?
Because he's pretty damn wonderful.
He's funny, attractive, he cooks, he's covered in beautiful ink and shiny piercings.
We hung out for the first time a week ago, he cooked steak, we played pool, and watched movies. It was fun, relaxed, and he wasn't too forward. All he did was give me a back massage. No obnoxious moves or lame one-liners, or any other attempt to get in my pants. It was just a nice, relaxed evening. I feel like he respects me, or at least my limits. We hung out Thursday night after his shift and when he kissed me, he actually asked me right afterward if that was alright, as if he was afraid of over-stepping his bounds. It was kinda sweet.
Have I really gotten so used to guys just wanting sex that I've forgotten what being respected feels like?
Oh, and add to the list of his awesomeness:
He's a fucking good kisser.
5.11.08
Toilet Paper Palace
I finally moved yesterday!
Jess was a HUGE help. Dragging theater sets all day made her so much stronger then me, so she did most of the heavy lifting. She even brought me dinner.
My apartment looks so pretty. I just sat in it for 20 minutes, unable to believe that for the next six months, I have my own place. Its huge compared to what I had before.
The manager did an awesome job cleaning the place. He shampooed the carpets, installed brand new lighting, fixed the eroding shower tiles, completely scrubbed every last inch of the kitchen and fridge. Its pretty impressive, considering how trashed it was. Extreme home makeover could use this guy.
And somehow I ended up with 61 rolls of toilet paper. Still trying to figure out how that happened.
My bedroom is pretty empty looking compared to the living room though. Looks kinda sad.
I don't have any internet, which sucks, but I do have awesome cell reception, finally! No more standing outside in pajamas freezing my ass off in order to talk on the phone.
I have to go back tonight to grab the rest of my things. Maybe I'll rent a movie tonight.
Speaking of which, I did finally get to hang out with Jeff, the guy who wrote his number on the back of my receipt. I went over to his place and realized he was living with Isaac and RJ, friends of mine from high school. It was good to see Isaac. RJ and I were always kinda neutral. This state is so freaking small.
Anyways, we hung out, played pool (I got worse at pool. I thought that was impossible, but apparently not), and he cooked me an awesome steak dinner (complete with baked potatoes), and later even gave me a shoulder massage (I miss Sony and her awesome massages).
Yes, this guy earned massive brownie points.
Jess was a HUGE help. Dragging theater sets all day made her so much stronger then me, so she did most of the heavy lifting. She even brought me dinner.
My apartment looks so pretty. I just sat in it for 20 minutes, unable to believe that for the next six months, I have my own place. Its huge compared to what I had before.
The manager did an awesome job cleaning the place. He shampooed the carpets, installed brand new lighting, fixed the eroding shower tiles, completely scrubbed every last inch of the kitchen and fridge. Its pretty impressive, considering how trashed it was. Extreme home makeover could use this guy.
And somehow I ended up with 61 rolls of toilet paper. Still trying to figure out how that happened.
My bedroom is pretty empty looking compared to the living room though. Looks kinda sad.
I don't have any internet, which sucks, but I do have awesome cell reception, finally! No more standing outside in pajamas freezing my ass off in order to talk on the phone.
I have to go back tonight to grab the rest of my things. Maybe I'll rent a movie tonight.
Speaking of which, I did finally get to hang out with Jeff, the guy who wrote his number on the back of my receipt. I went over to his place and realized he was living with Isaac and RJ, friends of mine from high school. It was good to see Isaac. RJ and I were always kinda neutral. This state is so freaking small.
Anyways, we hung out, played pool (I got worse at pool. I thought that was impossible, but apparently not), and he cooked me an awesome steak dinner (complete with baked potatoes), and later even gave me a shoulder massage (I miss Sony and her awesome massages).
Yes, this guy earned massive brownie points.
1.11.08
Halloween
I miss Sony. Halloween is her holiday.
Today was a good day though. I had a really productive therapy session. We talked about the sources of my anxiety attacks, and managed to pinpoint it to three big contributors: Frustration, guilt, and over-stimulation. When you add stress, it compounds everything and makes me more vulnerable to attacks.
The doctor talked about "self talking", a practice where I become aware of my thoughts and attitudes when I am anxious in order to change them in a more positive way. I told him that Buddhism had a similar concept, the concept of "Right View," part of the eightfold path. He seemed happy that it agreed with my religious beliefs. Its pretty cool that Buddhism, a 2500 year old religion, lines up so well with basic modern psychology.
Later on I went to Darlene and Daniel's wedding!
Oh my god, it was so amazing. I was an usher with her son, Dallas. Her daughter was the maid of honor, and she looked so pretty. And Darlene was downright gorgeous. I hope to have pictures to post soon.
I convinced Darren to dance with me, which was fun. Tonight is my last night as Darren and Zach's room mate. I also had a slow dance with a really sweet guy named Josh.
Then I went to the store, bought more boxes, and continued packing. I move tomorrow and have to be up freaking early.
Today was a good day though. I had a really productive therapy session. We talked about the sources of my anxiety attacks, and managed to pinpoint it to three big contributors: Frustration, guilt, and over-stimulation. When you add stress, it compounds everything and makes me more vulnerable to attacks.
The doctor talked about "self talking", a practice where I become aware of my thoughts and attitudes when I am anxious in order to change them in a more positive way. I told him that Buddhism had a similar concept, the concept of "Right View," part of the eightfold path. He seemed happy that it agreed with my religious beliefs. Its pretty cool that Buddhism, a 2500 year old religion, lines up so well with basic modern psychology.
Later on I went to Darlene and Daniel's wedding!
Oh my god, it was so amazing. I was an usher with her son, Dallas. Her daughter was the maid of honor, and she looked so pretty. And Darlene was downright gorgeous. I hope to have pictures to post soon.
I convinced Darren to dance with me, which was fun. Tonight is my last night as Darren and Zach's room mate. I also had a slow dance with a really sweet guy named Josh.
Then I went to the store, bought more boxes, and continued packing. I move tomorrow and have to be up freaking early.
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