I’m actually sometimes relieved when I find out that someone has unfollowed me on Instagram. I often feel pressured to keep up and to pretend that I care when I don’t. Does that sound awful? I’m like, Thank god I wasn’t the only one!
I haven’t really been sleeping lately. I’ve been having anxiety dreams and other things keeping me up. Like for instance, my feet get super hot. Like, to the point where I have to go and rinse them in the tub. The plus side is I’ve been able to greatly reduce my overall chronic pain, thanks to some internet purchases. It’s still there, but it’s far more manageable.
I think there are some things in my life I need to let go of. Old feelings on things I can’t control or change. Old grudges, old dreams… I’m just getting too old for this.
I realized recently that Little House on the Prairie was on Amazon Prime, so I started watching it again recently. I grew up watching these but never in the order that they came out. I also somehow got Jordan to watch with me and I’m super happy that he also loves this show.
I’ve had an obsession with the Old West for a very long time. I was actually waiting in a dentist office today reading the BBC History publication about taming the Wild West. (By the way, there were a lot of grammatical errors in it too.) I don’t know why I feel so drawn to the lore of that era. Maybe because it’s close enough in time that it feels tangible, yet distinctlymythical in some ways. Maybe because it’s a part of what made me who I am. My parents were frontiersmen in their own right. I’m the daughter of two people who were brave enough to move away from what they knew to forge a new life in a land that was unknown to them. I am lucky.
Well shit. This time I actually forgot. Last night we spilled red wine on our expensive sofa, and ended up going to Walmart late at night to pick up an extractor. Normally I wouldn’t go there but it was the only local-ish place (it was 3 towns over) that had what I needed and was still open at that time.
But really… I’m a little bit stressed at the moment. There are some things happening that are making me a bit worried about what’s going to happen. And I’m trying not to worry about it too much. I had an anxiety dream last night that was totally connected to it.
I missed last Monday. I sort of didn’t know what to talk about that didn’t get too personal.
I took a sleeping pill just before I started this. I’m trying to get more sleep in my life. I have a feeling it will make my life better. I learned recently that because I can usually fall asleep within less than 5 minutes, I am severely sleep-deprived. So why the sleeping pill? My problem isn’t falling asleep; it’s staying asleep. There are various reasons I wake up in the night. I’m naturally a light sleeper. I wake up from pain. I wake up after every REM cycle. It’s not good sleep, ever.
I haven’t had a good night of sleep in years. I don’t know that I know what it feels like.
So anyway, let’s talk about what I’ve been listening to lately. I’ve been listening to the Red Dead Redemption 2 soundtrack. The one produced by Daniel Lanois. “Cruel World” makes me want to die just so you can play it at my funeral. “Red” just legit makes me want to cry. Maybe it’s because of the context in which the song was written.
I really can’t wait for the next part of the soundtrack to be released because I (and the whole internet) want this song:
I’ve been thinking pretty heavily about preparedness for that last year. The earthquakes from last week were nothing unexpected. I just thought they would have been bigger and closer to LA. And after one happens, you always feel pretty shook because you know it could have been worse. This is especially if you’ve ever lived through one. The San Andreas Fault is overdue for a large earthquake and it will happen, and likely soon. I feel like a doomsday prepper when I think about all the stuff in my Amazon cart waiting to be purchased. How devastating can an earthquake be? Northridge was pretty devastating for us, but we had shelter. I have tarps, bungee cords and duct tape in my Amazon cart. I have camping supplies, an emergency radio and solar chargers. I got glass tint so that if the window shatters, it won’t scatter shards all over my face. I only have water for 2 days, a first aid kit for humans and one for the cat, non perishable food in the cupboards that I always make sure is well-supplied. The hard part is I also have a storage problem. But I have no idea if it’s enough. When will I feel sheltered enough from the thing I cannot predict?
As I was driving home from work today, I was thinking a lot about luck. There is so much in the world that is determined by forces beyond our own control, so many things that have been given to us because of the decisions of generations before us, and the mere existence of humans as they are for such a short time in the history of the Earth and universe. I can appreciate how little control I have over 95% of my life. There’s something peaceful about that.
Some months after my dad passed away, my mom decided to move out of the home I grew up in. There were nearly 40 years of things hiding away in every nook and cranny. We finally started to go through my dad’s things. I knew what we’d expect to find for the most part (besides tools). But the things we weren’t expecting were even more puzzling. But it gave me some glimpse into what he did when none of us were around.
The things we expected:
My dad’s gun. Yes he had a gun – and he always had it tucked away in his closet. It was a really beautiful, white, antique Colt 45 revolver with a pearl handle. I know he never intended to use this gun, even for protection, but my dad liked nice things. He liked things that were shiny and pretty.
His Rolex. This went to my brother.
His college ring.
A gold bracelet with his name “Tony” engraved into it. I kept this.
Math and engineering books.
His leather jacket. Now something about this leather jacket is that it still, to this day, smells like him. It’s the smell of tanned leather and tobacco. This was his “going out” jacket for as long as I can remember, even well into a few years before his death. It fit him perfectly and it was styled more like a Members Only jacket, not a motorcycle jacket. I remember the smell of it when he would carry me as a sleeping child from the car into the house and into bed. I find it funny that he had a jacket that was very specifically a jacket he never wore for working and only when he would go out to a party or to a nice dinner (that didn’t need a suit jacket). And now I have a jacket that’s similar. When I bought it, I vowed to never wear it to work – it was only for going out to parties and dinners.
The things we didn’t expect:
Two swords — one katana and one flame-bladed sword.
I feel extremely lucky to be where I am now. But why doesn’t it ever feel like enough? I wonder if I really know what it’s like to be happy. I think I’m probably happy, but is this what it feels like?
Professionally, I wish I had more of a leadership position. I’ve done it before, so I know it’s in my wheelhouse, but it’s not currently part of my job description. There’s no clear path for me to get there either.
I wish I was more of a social person. I wonder how different my life would be if I was more outgoing.
I wish LA wasn’t so damn expensive to live in. I feel like everything I want is always a little out-of-reach.
Today I bought a bottle of wine, and the cashier asked, “…aaaand can I see your ID.” Like it was a statement. A demand, not a request. He paused to look at my birthdate. The look on his face changed dramatically. “Oh. WOW!” he exclaimed. I laughed.
Funny thing is I feel about as old as I look. I feel as though my life has barely started. I’m not “old enough” for anything. I feel unable to be a proper adult. Yet here I am, far enough into adulthood that I should feel that way. But I haven’t felt like I’ve had enough rites of passage to be worthy of it. I haven’t been married. I haven’t owned property. I haven’t had children. I haven’t reached the point I want to professionally. I’m just not there, but will I ever be there?
I think about writing in here a lot but then realize it’s not something worth talking about.
But I’m going to impose a schedule of posting every Monday (at the very least). It seems to be my least busy evening. Let’s start next week.
One thing I did want to write, even if just briefly (possibly to be revisited later): I have a difficult time accepting and being comfortable with the person I used to be. I don’t often like to reminisce about my past or childhood. I hate when someone brings up my old music or even acknowledges that I used to dance. I want to learn to be proud of it or at least be comfortable with it. But who knows how?