Perhaps it is only in a state of delirium that I am able to write, but I am grateful nonetheless. If I can seize just a moment to try to sort out my deranged thoughts and hyper-sensitive feelings (which, at this point, are borderline paradoxical), I'll take it. I haven't been faced with this type of all-encompassing obstacle in a long time. I'm sitting here in the middle of my dark living room watching this blinking beacon of contemporary Christmas joy, and I'm just...apathetic. I guess it has to do with several factors that have been weighing on me for quite some time now.
1. Working in retail during the holiday season tends to suck all the joy out of it. DOA, as it were.
2. My "best friend" and I aren't speaking. Haven't spoken in more than a month, really. Well, unless you count that one quick "hello" in passing at work.
3. I've become a modernistic hermit, taking joy in finding books (over and over), indulging in my inner audiophile, and crafting my little heart out.
My social life has become noticeably empty, yet it surprises me to see that it doesn't bother me as much as it should. These days I actually LIKE keeping to myself. When I go out I can still carry on perfectly friendly conversations and small-talk it up like a champ, but I don't feel like making the effort to let anyone in at the moment. I have my Twilight Saga, my Hana Yori Dango, and my Bar Grooves compilation. It'll do...for now.
In my new role as social pariah I've come to learn new things about myself. I actually do like doing my nails (contrary to prior belief). I have a lot of unnecessary excess in my life and in my living space. It wasn't two months ago that I owned over 40 pairs of shoes (I know, it's shameful). I've whittled the collection down to about 15 pairs (sans flip flops, as those don't count as actual shoes). My once crammed closet has been processed and refined into a fairly sophisticated, cute wardrobe. Most pieces that I can wear all year long (give or take a few layers).
My artistic ideals have developed a bit more. I'm interested in broadening my horizons. Knitting, glass-blowing, metal-smithing, woodwork and carpentry. I want to try and tackle all of it. Ambitious? Absurd? Maybe. But the idea of creating and actualizing the things of dreams moves me in way I can't possibly begin to explain.
Though I'm at a stage in my life that is supposed to be fun-filled and perpetually amped, I'm just not. I don't need the flash and flare of young night life. A hot cup of green tea and honey, a good book, and something easy on the ears. These are a few of my favorite things.
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