There’s a feeling you get when you know something is about to happen. But then again, something may not happen. So you question it, back and forth like a pendulum. It’s a little like nervousness and it’s a little like throwing up. I know I’m not describing this feeling very well, but I don’t think there’s a word out there for it yet. I guess you just have to be in my body feeling what I’m feeling to really know what I’m talking about. Ain’t nobody got time for that.
You’re not going to ever feel exactly what I’m feeling. But it’s okay because I’m not ever going to feel exactly what you’re feeling either. There’s not another person out there exactly like me and there’s not another person out there exactly like you. Isn’t the world a wonderful place? So knowing this it makes me sad to think someone would feel so unworthy to be in existence they end their life by their own hands. Or someone would cause physical harm to themselves. People have seriously made life a lot more complicated than it is, but then again, maybe the way I experience reality is different from the way you experience yours so who am I to judge you for how you live? But if I don’t voice it out loud, I’m still going to do it in my head whether I notice it or not. You know what I mean?
I don’t think shopping is a bad thing. But like everything else, moderation is key.
I was thinking about materialism the other day. It is generally seen as a negative thing. I know there is a dictionary definition out there, but for me, the first thing that pops into mind is someone shopping a lot and accumulating stuff to make themselves happy. They feel happy when they get something new, but they also feel happy when they can show it off to their friends. But even if they can’t show off their goods to friends, I think they are happy with the sensation of running a credit card through a slot and picking up the bag with the things they can now own as a result of the credit card. It becomes an addictive feeling to the point where it doesn’t even matter what they are buying. They just love the feeling of sliding that credit card through.
Deep down I don’t think the materialistic person doesn’t know this ultimately doesn’t bring happiness. I mean, yes, maybe in the moment, but once the moment passes, the more they look at the things they buy the more the feeling wears off. It’s not brand new anymore! I just think they are avoiding the reality of more things can’t make you more happy. There’s something else going on in their life that needs fixing and shopping is a quick fix. Then come the garage sales.
Some guys don’t know the first thing about being just friends with a girl. Vice versa as well, but I think in this case this applies to mostly guys. I think when a guy starts out trying to be just friends with a girl, he is always in it for a motive. More girls than guys are capable of being there for someone and hanging out with someone without the complications of “catching feelings” as the kids call it these days. Being just friends with someone of the opposite sex is not impossible, but a lot of times it doesn’t work out because it is hard. Feelings do get in the way.
As for me, I am hard to be friends with, period. Especially now. Life is too short to sugarcoat everything. I am a nice girl, but I can be brutally honest with people I’m close to. Why waste someone’s time making them believe everything is okay when they really need to make changes in their lives to be a better person? I’m not perfect either, but if I am able to make a suggestion to improve the quality of someone’s life, I think I should let them know if I really care about them. I say this, but even as I’m typing this, I know I struggle with being brutally honest when it is necessary. There are times you’ve got to keep your mouth shut and just let your friend fall. It’s not easy, but I don’t want to be the same kind of friend everybody else out there is like.
I think the bravest thing someone does sometimes is show up. Not go fight in a war. Not stand up to a bully. Not shoot a bow and arrow through some sort of coronation ring. Nope. Not any of those things that is typically considered a brave thing to do.
I’m talking about showing up to an event. People take one look at you and start sizing you up. You haven’t even opened your mouth yet and you are being judged by every eye in the room. At least all the sober ones. (Let’s be honest. The inebriated ones ain’t gonna remember you after it’s all over.)
I was at a party over the weekend and I felt brave for showing up. I knew the host and a couple other people on the guest list, but the majority of the people on the guest list I did not know. Right before going I had this nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach like the kind of feeling you get if you’re a quiet one like me and sitting in class hoping the teacher doesn’t call on you or the kind of nervous feeling you get before having to give an oral presentation to the class.
Showing up to a party where you don’t know most of the people is in a way, going to battle. You don’t know what these people think of you from how you act to what you say to what you’re wearing. You shouldn’t care what these people think, but there’s always a part of you that will no matter how many parties you’ve been to. Once they’ve met you, it’s all over. You can’t change what they first think of you or go back in time and make them not ever know you.
You may walk away without them remembering you, but you now exist in the world to them and there’s no way to make them think you don’t exist. Even if they forget about the party, meeting you will inevitably come back up in their memory, filed away with all the other fuzzy party memories. It just takes a key to unlock that drawer and once Tinker Bell comes flying out of there, ain’t no way of stopping a mixed up memory from surfacing, like trying to tell the difference between a thimble and a hidden kiss.
I remember getting a B on that English paper back in 12th grade, a satire, something about dead skin cells, and it was my suggestion. “Ew!” my friend said. It was her immediate reaction. I didn’t know how to tell her that I see past all the “ewness” and I love it. I deal with stuff that’s not so pretty all the time. It’s a gift. Dealing with stuff that’s not so pretty is a beautiful thing and sometimes it feels like I’m one of the few people who understands this. Plus satires are meant to have gross things in them to use for exaggeration purposes and dead skin cells seemed like the perfect touch. I even kind of remember my English teacher commenting on the paper that she liked it. But who knows. My brain could be making up that memory just because it seems like that memory would make sense. I bet some Psych major out there knows exactly what this is called. But I’m no Psych major. I’m just the girl who can not flinch when people talk about dead skin cells.
If I take the highway to work, I’m always afraid I’ll run into traffic in the form of a car wreck, weather conditions, or road construction. If I take local roads to work, it takes longer to get to work and there’s always a possibility I might run some animal over. Either way there’s an underlying anxiety I will be late for work or hurt a living being and be late at the same time. Thus, most every weekday morning my stomach is in knots. I do this every morning for so long my stomach is used to it. Soy nerviosa doesn’t just describe my Amber Yang character, but describes me as well and is just one of the many characteristics I share with the girl from my first real novel.
The verdict is local roads. I’ve been avoiding the highway because I prefer going at a slower speed. That’s just me. (And if you catch my drift, you’ll know I’m not just talking about driving. But please don’t overanalyze that last statement into something dirty because that’s not what I was referring to either. I’m not that kinda girl.) Plus I’ve already been involved in my first car wreck on the highway last year so I’m not looking for another one. Lately local roads have had a lot of road construction going on and as a result some mornings I’ve had to take a detour unexpectedly. I’m also not that into surprises, but I can roll with them and get used to them pretty much like anything else out of the blue. This got me thinking about the roads life takes us. We may have that ultimate goal we want to reach. There may be one straight shot path to get there, but along that path there are going to be road blocks. These road blocks can be anything from distractions to physical injuries to monsters we invent in our minds that keep telling us we can’t do something to literally having to move away. Yet through all the obstacles, real or imagined, we can still find our way back down that straight shot path. It’s just up to us to find the detour that will get us back on track.
Show interest is what they said. But I would tell them there are certain moments in life you really wish you were inside a soundproof room so you could scream all your problems away. Or at least rid yourself of that nasty feeling in the pit of your stomach that seems to nag at you in the least convenient way possible at the most awkward moments in time. How do you do it?
There’s no way someone could see through to your thoughts. You have to express them in words, but what if there are no words to describe what you are going through? What if you must use dance or pictures, but you have none at hand and no footloose skills? Time. Someone would need to observe you when you don’t know they are watching. At the very least they would be able to deduce whether you have integrity or not. When you’re driving on the highway are you one of those who slows down as soon as a cop is driving by? Or do you follow the speed limit no matter what?
Don’t be too of anything. Too smart. Too skinny. Too boring. Too broken. We’re all broken though. Show me someone who’s not broken and I’ll show you someone who’s lying. Show interest is what they said. But I would tell them grab a parachute and just jump already.