The big things

Hey, guys! It's been more than a year since I last posted. Maybe nobody's reading anyway. I added a little banner to the right to the new blog I've started with my husband. A lot has changed. I moved, we live in a house now. We have a new baby boy cat (the one with his eyes open). We got married. I got a new job. I gained weight. I didn't finish my PhD yet. Some of my friends moved to other countries. Some are coming back. Life is very different, in theory, but I feel the same.

Actually, in all honesty, I feel better about myself. I've been keeping away from people and situations that make me feel terrible. I gave up drinking. I gave up harmful friends. I no longer allow others to make me feel inadequate. And I've had a great time learning from people on an app called YOU about what a supportive community can bring to one's life. I've been conscious about the amazing happiness of having a family of my own. I've treated myself with kindness and tried to enjoy giving.
These are the things that actually matter when catching up. I sometimes wish I could sit down with a long time friend and tell them these things. But none of us really talk about the big things, do we?

Obliterated

I look around social media and everybody seems to have this great time, being successful and going places and having these amazing pictures everybody likes of themselves.
And I just sit here hating myself day in and day out and I still can't believe a meat suit gets to define everything I am and everything I do. It obliterates the hard work and the kindness and the joy I used to get from all the small things. It obliterates the small pleasures of vanity that come with clothing, the infinite delight that food can bring into one's life, it even obliterates the sun for me, because the meat suit is no longer compatible with the standards. If it ever was. It obliterates my love, for I have a constant desire to hide and not to play, not to enjoy, it obliterates me as a whole being because the vessel has come to represent everything inside, and really made it irrelevant. I have been obliterated by my aging body and it's taking over my whole life, replacing pleasure with shame, ambition with fear, love with loneliness. The more it grows, the less I am.

Dear 2015

I've just read a few bits about what you have in store for me and I it seems all the horoscopes agree on the major issues. I'll be working smarter and maybe harder and it will not go unnoticed. Although I was looking for a career change, you seem like the kind to take it easy. They say it'll not be about changing paths, but about being promoted. Also, completing a huge task this fall that I'll be getting to full speed in the spring. It sounds like the stars support me in my main objective of finishing my PhD this year. This will put me on my desired career track, they say.
Now that I've changed homes and gotten engaged, you will be the year I settle down for real and start growing roots. I'm more of an anchor kind of girl, so it will be a pretty big change in the way I relate to everything. What I want most is to practice kindness and to be aware of the things I need to grow. Really, most of all I want structure, so that I can enjoy this life of emotional comfort while navigating smoothly through tasks that usually drain me.
All in all, you seem like a nice year, with nice money (although they all recommend me to save and make the right decisions), constant work towards things I've wanted for myself (but without outstanding changes) and a good life with my loved ones. Honestly, I am still so beat after 2014, all of this looks great to me. Cheers!

One of those days

Sometimes I'm like one of those bands that do a goodbye tour and then a final tour and then some other kind of last chance to bee seen by fans for years in a row but never actually retire. Just the
opposite of that. I keep saying I'm gonna start working on things but then I don't.
I at least changed the appearance of the blog again. It's more clean and easy to navigate, I've set four tab labels for things I should be writing every week. I should be sharing at least one of the awesome stuff I cook and at least a little of the books and movies that eat away my free time, and some memories of my travels and, the new thing, a little diary of the construction of my look. Which is not a defined thing, but more like a theatre dressing room, and that is fine, and it's fun and it's something I'd like to share. And then, if I still have the time, I want to keep whining on the main page of this blog.

I also want to start a PhD diary. I hope I get my ass to work so that I can say something about it. Anything at all. Because I want to finish it. I need a break from the academia for a while, because we've been having this distant relationship that doesn't make me happy or excited anymore. If we're not going to break up, we at least need to see other people. I might want to go back to school a year from now. But considering although they like me they didn't put at least a tutoring or research assistance offer on it I have to realize I'm not getting what I wanted from this relationship and move on. There are plenty of careers in the sea, and according to them I'm everything they ever wanted (ok, I'm pulling your leg here). But really, I can't do this anymore. And it's not me, it's them.

I'm back. Eventually

It's been like more than a month since I said I'd start posting again. I've been rummaging through old ideas of post topics I should use and I yet need to structure my writing so that I don't lazy out and keep track of the things I'd want to read here. Right now I'm at work and while I should be working or checking up some files at the court house, I'm writing this. Actually, my whole life has gotten a bit messy, but in a good way. I guess it's a little like when a really quiet and tidy couple have their first child. Things get noisy and dirty and nothing is anymore where it should be, and a lot of stuff is put aside. But you are so happy and everything is so new and exciting, that you just don't care anymore.
 Not that my life is all new. I just feel like it is, every day. And I don't really get to plan or dwell in the past. Because I keep going while I get to enjoy so much. I work at the same newspaper and teach the same class. I haven't advanced with my dissertation and I rarely see my friends and family. But the times I do get to see them, it's great, and I am grateful every day. I am actually always in between homes and work and school and meetings, but it evens out, as I get to lay back and relax, watch a few show I enjoy and debate with my boyfriend and just be generally awesome.
This is my Monday voice, when everything is full of possibilities, because I, for one, don't mind going back to work or planning a full day, including workouts, cooking and some right about time housework. I'll be having a short week at work, actually two of them, and some five free days in between. So I'll use up as much of my energy as I feel like, because there will be plenty of time to replenish it. Yesterday I baked a really great chocolate peanut butter cake and if I'm not too lazy, I'll post it soon under yet another (not quite) Sunday baking post. Also, I must interest you in this Clive Barker novel I'm reading. It's exhausting, but freaking mindblowing. Like most things nowadays, I guess!

Crushed

Here I am again, writing to get myself together. I do own plenty of paper diaries, but, somehow, I've made this my home, although I'm always away. I cannot believe I keep getting trapped like this. Do you know that feeling when you're buried under sand and every single centimeter of your body is

being pressed and crushed? It's how I feel right now. There's this pressure on my chest that doesn't even allow me to breathe, let alone cry. I tried the drinking, the working, the talking. None of it works. Maybe the writing will work. Followed by bathing and chocolate eating. And a lobotomy, please! I don't really know how much longer I can do this to myself. Giving myself over to others has been the worse idea I've repeatedly had over the course of my life. One day I will turn into that bitter old maid. And then maybe I will finally be numb.

If I could figure out what is wrong with me, that would be great

You know, when I get sick or tired (not sick AND tired) I lose a part of the ability to like myself and even to enjoy life and be happy. Well, now I'm both, because it's been three days since I'm back from a week long journey around Europe, in a bus, and I came down with a cold and still haven't managed to get my shit together, sleep enough and be on schedule with the work I have to do.
The only problem with this is that now it doesn't only affect me. It affects my family and my love and my cat and even my work. I get to see people hastily, I fall asleep when watching movies, I break stuff and I can't spend a solid hour with the cat in my lap, because I have to multitask, of course. And I'm still behind on the cleaning and the writing, I have so many meetings I have to schedule and well, I'm low on money.
Somehow, I just wish I could get a happy pill, something that would give me tons of energy, do my sleeping while I fold my landry and allow me to work at double capacity. I just need to catch up with everything and not have to drag myself from task to task because my head hurts like a bitch, I get cold and hot every other minute and my nose is like a broken fountain. Not to mention I am constantly asleep deep inside, but no amount of time under the covers really does it for me anymore.
So, yes, I obviously came here only to bitch and complain, because I can't keep doing this to other people. I'll write about it until it gets better, until I get better.