VP Biden Not Running For Prez

Can we say “finally?” Jeez, talk about an annoying wait for nothing. I’m not going to get into political stances today but I just want to point out that this weird suspense leading up to if/when the VP was going to announce running was silliness to the extreme.

Did anyone really think he was going to run? I didn’t. I’ve been saying for months that dragging it out is just for publicity. What kind of publicity? I don’t know and I don’t really care. I didn’t even like or dislike the guy to begin with but putting on this long dramatic preview for a show that isn’t coming out makes me dislike him a little more than I already hadn’t.

Why are we still doing this as a country? Every news outlet hypes up the most annoying bologna every SINGLE day. If it’s not a hurricane for 3 weeks, it’s a murder suspect in Arkansas. And if it’s not that it’s about the big D. Trump and what he said last night. The country fixates on one thing at a time. It’s got to be nauseating to the rest of the world.

Anyways, I hope Biden does whatever VP’s do after being done in D.C. – Live life frivolously?article-2119941-1253464D000005DC-514_634x344

Anti-Social Pessimist

Truth. This is how I’ve felt lately. I can’t get out of this obnoxious funk. I’ve heard the song below a few times but on my way to work this morning; I actually listened to the words. I’m still working on this positivity concept my mom has been telling me about but check out this song. If you’re a lyric nerd like myself, click here for the rhymes.

Saying Goodbye to Bad Feels.

I was going to write about my feelings again. My angry feels but I decided to delete that and just arrange a list of words to describe one particular thing in my life that I feel I cannot change. The list is in no particular order and is as follows: Anger. Taunt. Strangle. Mannerisms. Overwhelming. Stalking. Irritation. Hate. Know-It-All. Arrogance. Annoyance. Resentment. Suffocating. Trouble. Failure. Smothering.

These all describe a happening in my life that gives me daily stress. I can’t change it. Although, I suppose if I try, I could suppress it but I feel like that’s detrimental to the brain. I just wish I could express how I truly feel without appearing as if I’ve totally gone off the deep end. But this is the last post (hopefully) that I vent about it.

To compensate for this negativity; I’ve taken a little advice from my mom. Kinda. She suggested to sweat out some of this negative through activity. Most of this week, I’ve gotten in more activity than I have in quite some time and I feel great about it.

It doesn’t necessarily eliminate this spot of blackness in my day but it pushes it to the side a little. I’ve decided that the frustration and stress that I’ve been allowing myself to feel isn’t worth it and the person making feel this way doesn’t deserve my time or energy. And karmas supposedly a bitch so what goes around will come around. Which goes both ways, my negative feelings aren’t helping my karma auras any.

This week I’ve been making a point to steer clear of the individual in question and only listening slash providing feedback when necessary. Any kind of communication otherwise goes in one ear and out the other. Hopefully they’ll get the hint and go away.

Ohm.

It’s Time To Collect Myself

As a self-proclaimed organizing genius, I can’t seem to get my own life in order. My core revolves around organization. At work, I’m the go-to for sorting out the mess. I make a point of cleaning up the trash someone created and putting things in order when they aren’t. I create and update notes, spreadsheets, slideshows so that they make the most sense logically and provide an extreme effort of efficiency.

CR0AqReUsAAHDpGThis is the same for planning outside of work. I make a plan to make a plan, if that makes sense. I create lists, eye-dizzying spreadsheets with formulas, and put everything together in a nice and perfect organized bunch. I have a certain way that I clean and pick up the house. I organize my bills, paychecks, and receipts. Everything I do involves organizing.

Except for myself.

I can’t organize myself or my overall life. I feel like paint splattered on a canvas but it’s not just on the canvas. It’s on the walls, the floor, the ceiling. I’m on high alert to organize everyone and everything that I can get my hands on but I have this blocker – a wall – not allowing me to organize myself.

Now that I’ve just written that, that actually might be the root to all of my “problems.” I’ve been constantly moving, running from something for years and recently, I seem to have developed a lack of patience for absolutely everything. It often has morphed into hatred and a short temper. Maybe I need to really put time and effort into organizing my life and what I need in it.

Realistically, of course.

Cool, dude.

I don’t know why I didn’t do this sooner. Before this (my WP blog), I had a Blogger blog. I would sometimes reference it or link it to this blog. I left B and joined WP almost two years ago but it always bothered me that I had two separate personal blogs out there. Why couldn’t they just merge together? Guess what, they can! (LIGHTBULB!) I’m sure it’s been an option forever but for some reason I just found out about it now. It’s probably due to my laziness in figuring it out.

Anyway, so long old blog. Everything I’ve written since January 2012 is now in this blog with the exception of I ‘Ate My Life but that is a topic specific WP blog and it’s tied to this one. I am looking into starting a photography blog to be linked here as well but haven’t figured out if I have time to dedicate to that yet. My main problemo was that I had two different dashboards and it drove me bananas. (B-A-N-A-N-A-S)

Home’s where you go when you run out of homes. -John le Carré

This couldn’t be more accurate. I’ve had a lot of homes. More than I’d like to admit. Not in a bad, no family situation kind of way. I’ve just moved a lot. I never feel at “home.” I never get that cozy, warm, home feeling that we all know about.

Until I leave.

First, I’ll start by saying that yes, my parents house feels most like home. I think for a lot of people, young adults especially, this is probably true. This isn’t about home “home,” this is about making life your home. I’ve moved to a different apartment in the same city, I’ve moved to different cities, accepted different jobs, met different people. But it always seems like every day is like the last, everywhere I go.

I don’t know if I’m expecting some kind of grand entrance to the next level of life or what but the days so easily and so quickly become monotonous.

Home. What is home? I have a Pinterest board that feels like home to me. The décor, the space, the ideas, the wonder. The laughs around a dining room table playing games, the comfortable bed snuggled up next to my kitten. The warm fireplace, hot cocoa, and Christmas cartoons on repeat. I imagine home much more than I feel home.

I have this grand gesture of an idea in my head. I’ve been planning my “home” for as long as I can remember. I’m going to buy a beautiful house, paint, and decorate. Fill it to the brim with my home-y style. Invite those people over to play those games. Light that fire and drink that cocoa. Snuggle and smile and enjoy my home.

But that kind of home, that dream home seems so far away. There are so many variables of life that make home feel impossible for a 20-something. Credit scores, income, education.  Needs verses wants is probably the biggest mountain to climb. I don’t need a lot but I don’t want garbage. I have high hopes and medium expectations when it comes to home.

With that being said, my current “life” feels so far from home it’s not even funny. I know apartments never feel like home; at least I don’t think they do. But I miss my old home. I miss certain parts of living in that shitty ass trailer in Thief River. I miss the upstairs apartment that we lived in TWICE. I kind of even miss my downtown, hole in the ground apartment in Grand Forks. I miss West Ridge which was, hands down, the best place we’ve ever lived.

Now that we no longer live in those places, they seem like home more than ever before. I fanaticize about what my life would be like now, if I would have given it just a little more time instead of always jumping and running away when things weren’t just the way I wanted them.

I want to get past this hump of “Why’s.” We keep questioning if we’ve made the right decisions. Was it right to move to leave Thief River nearly 4 years ago? Was it right to leave excellent paying jobs and people in Grand Forks? Did we give Bemidji enough time? Why are we in Fargo? What are we doing?

Home never feels like home until you leave. It’s true. Everywhere I’ve lived, I couldn’t wait to “get out” thinking that my next move was going to be my last move until the big buy (a house) but then I move again. What am I running from? What am I chasing? Each of those places we’ve left always seem to call me back asking the question “Why?” I miss my home and wherever I am now, doesn’t feel like it’ll ever be home. It never does.

Anger Doesn’t Look Good On Me

I think my patience is wearing thin. Depending on the situation; I’m a pretty patient person. I think that my immediate family might disagree which is valid but in general; I’m very patient. Well, I used to be.

Lately, my patience has been worn thin. I get frustrated with people very easily. Maybe my “moron” radar is through the roof or something. I feel like I don’t have time to deal with assholes or dick weeds. I don’t give a shit about your perfect children or how you would do this or how you would do that. You’re not hilarious, clever, or nice. You’re a creep, a smothering moth, and a know-it-all that doesn’t quite know it all.

I used to be a window. I used to have the patience to deal with people who didn’t get it or varied in opinion to me. I used to have an open invite to challenge me. It would go in one ear and out the other. I’ve always understood that I might need to change my direction in order for others to understand or to validate my stance and I’ve always been able to adapt accordingly but lately, it hasn’t been so easy.

I’ve turned into a sponge and not in a good way. I hold on to everything certain people say and by the time I’m done just want to throat punch them to the ground. My patience is gone and it’s making the days more and more difficult to deal with.

And I should probably stop there. This is why I hate blogging but love writing. I’ve pondered pausing blogging in the writing sense for some time now. I don’t feel that I can truly express myself or say how I really feel without totally going overboard. I don’t know who’s reading this. On one hand, I want to reach the masses. I want others to know that I’m out here too. I know how you feel. I want to share my happy days and my throat punch days but I don’t want to risk my career or personal life by doing that. There’s no happy medium is there? Go big or go home?