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Thoughts Gone Wild

There are times I really want to scream my head off. No, not times. All the time.

That frequent?!

 Yes.

:O

And not because life sucks or I’m depressed or I’m bipolar. (No disrespect to anyone who is feeling this way. For real. I mean it.) I just have so many thoughts they feel like they’ll confetti out of my head.

That’s it? Just a plethora of thoughts? My grandma can hold 1,000 thoughts in her head simultaneously without a helmet on.

 That doesn’t even make sense.

Tee-hehe! Ryan Higa humor for you!

 *rolls eyes*

What?!

 Nothing. You’re so immature. When are you going to pull out of a Peter Pan and grow up?

*crickets chirping*

I wish my brain would think differently. But I don’t even know exactly what differently would look like. Or rather, sound like. Maybe it just needs silence. What does that sound like? I feel like that is impossible. No matter how quiet it is, there is always some noise. The hum of your laptop. An airplane flying overhead. Creaks in the wooden floor. Water running through pipes.

Maybe silence just means eclectic.

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Sometimes it’s hard to get started.

Moisturized skin is like a brand new start. A clean slate. Vanilla ice cream. The girl who screamed the loudest in my face went to law school. I ended up in accounting. What does that say about me? It’s like rain during your drive home, but it turns into sunshine as soon as you get home. Where did it all go? It got all mixed up in a fatberg. In stray hairs on the carpet that get picked up over and over again. Some were pulled out and others fell out of the sky into a Vanessa Carlton song. Stay the course. If you don’t, you veer somewhere off course into the wrong hole. Then if it turns out to be a black hole, you’re screwed. You may never come out, or if you do come out, you come out inscrutable to the rest of the world. So much for brand new starts…

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runaway thoughts

I want to go relax on the beach. Actually, I want to go somewhere I don’t have to overanalyze anything or do anything that has to be done. Because things that have to be done are such silly poos. Maybe that’s not the right word. I call my friends that I like silly poos, not my obligations. Friends that I don’t like are called friends. Anyway…wouldn’t it be nice to escape forever? Or if not forever, at least for a long period of time to some magical place where there is no concept of time so when you come back, you haven’t aged and can pick up right where you left off. Narnia! That’s it. Is Narnia like that? It’s been so long since I’ve seen the movie and read the book. I have the book, but I’m too lazy to extricate it from its home on the shelf and read it again to answer my own question. I’d have to read as fast as Albert from “How to Build a Better Boy” for that to work anyway. It would be nice to be able to talk to books. Then they could answer my questions for me. There would be no need for Google or encyclopedias. Yes, you have entered into the weirdness of YuMin’s mind after work.

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High-strung

That was one of the words my ex-boyfriend used to describe me. He was wrong about a lot of things, but he was right about that one and that one right thing was what I hated the most about him and me together. It’s funny it sometimes takes a romantic relationship to learn who I am, but that’s what happened seven years ago. To me, being nervous and easily upset is the worst thing in the world. I don’t know why I feel that way or where the feeling comes from. I just do. But more specifically I hate the word “high-strung.” I don’t even like saying it. It’s like if I’m thinking about saying it I’ll have to pull a Harry Potter and just call it a “you-know-what” instead. Like, my ex-boyfriend used to call me a you-know-what. That doesn’t sound right either so that’s probably why it never became a thing. Not that I hope it does because that would be weird. I just think “high-strung” makes me think of “crazy” and while I like being called a crazy writer, I don’t like being called “crazy.” Is that so crazy?

 

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yellow light

I want to tell someone there’s a significant change that happens when you hit your 30s. It’s not puberty #2 or anything, but you do feel it physically. Fatigue starts settling in on your body a lot faster and it takes you longer to recover, making you acutely aware you are no longer in your 20s.

I’m going through this now, even though it’s been two years since I hit 30. It takes a minute for 30 to sink in. It really does. I wanted to share in case anyone is about to go through this or can relate. Feeling tired easily is not a fun feeling, but after you are done with your 20s, you realize you’ve learned so many lessons the dumb, hard way. You appreciate the lessons, but they make you especially thankful you are done with your 20s.

Proceed with caution. My biggest fear right now is rambling too much. I really don’t know if that’s a typical 30s thing, but it seems to be a typical YuMin thing, whatever age she is. Maybe it’s just a part of me, but I can’t shake it, so I reluctantly let it stay. It’s like I have all this word vomit I must share due to previously mentioned lessons. Older, wiser, prouder?

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Eretria

You’re a good person at the core, but you’re pulled by your dark side all the time to do dark things. You’re not sure how you get pulled since you know deep down you’re good. It’s like someone else is making you be bad sometimes. That someone else is in you, but is not you. You are aware of its unwelcome, yet overpowering presence. All you want to do is send it away, but no matter what you try it just won’t go away completely. You’re a slave to it sometimes. Other times your mind overpowers it and it becomes a slave to you. That’s the best feeling in the world. Sometimes the feeling becomes such a rush it is something you crave. And that crave for power is intoxicating. The question is, how are you going to use that power?

*this post inspired by The Shannara Chronicles

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Math

Writer’s block is a terrible condition. It makes you sniff your nails and try to clean them if they smell off. Distract yourself by watching random music videos. Scratch your hair. Adjust your glasses 531 times. Pick at your temporary tattoo. Pick up hair from the carpet one strand at a time. Fold 1,000 paper cranes. Wait…I don’t think I’m quite at a thousand…

Clean your pencil sharpener. Check Facebook and Twitter. Take out the trash. Fill in your planner for next week. Floss your teeth. Shower.

And then it chases you back to your seat where butt + chair = write.