Aaaand, The End

For this chapter at least.

Re-reading my entries has made me feel a stranger — to my own self. Funny, I know. It seems like I’ve highjacked someone else’s memory, someone else’s life, someone else’s thoughts. I can’t deny that there has been a great divide from the the Me Before and the Me Now.

I tried to look into my eyes from before by rereading my entries and I can’t help but smile and see a kid in it. At times I’d end up laughing, thinking “What the hell was I blabbing about?” “This is a child half raving of things she knows nothing of.” I was obviously unconscious of the many truths in life. I tried pushing the inevitable, tried to say “No, this is not ending. This is me, and I can’t end. ” But the bitter pill to swallow could not be stopped. I eventually had to face it and take the change in stride.

So this is me saying my goodbyes. This way I can move to my next writing life. Although I am putting this aside, it doesn’t mean there was no truth to it. It was all true, it was all me. It was the world I was served. But it isn’t me anymore. The shift has been so great that denying it would be lying.

This is RunJeanRun … off to another adventure.

Advertisements

Notes From 2-6-2012

How can I ever tell you?

How will I start?

I’m afraid of the responsibility.

I’m afraid of the enormous obligation it will ask of me.

I’m afraid to fail.

I’m afraid that we might be making a mistake.

I’ve never been so unsure.

What if this is all a mistake?

What if we’re misunderstanding things?

I’m so scared.

I don’t want to lose.

I’m so confused.

What if we’re wrong?

What am I supposed to do?

What am I supposed to say?

I want to be with you but …

I’m having cold feet.

Is getting married really the right thing to do now?

I’ve stopped putting the wedding together because every time I move forward something tells me that I need to stop. To stop and think if this is what I really want.

Oh God, what have I gotten myself into?

I’m so scared. we’ve been fighting for three weeks now and maybe, just maybe I’ve induced those fights because of all these bad thoughts.

How is this possible? After all the kindness and love you’ve shown me.

Why am I so scared?

Oh God, I don’t know anymore.

Notes from 5-2-2010

I’ve been bobbing in and out of consciousness for more than I care to admit. I’ve been mostly like a zombie, running errands, meeting deadlines and delivering my intended output. Apart from that, I haven’t really lived.

No fire. No light.

What I’m trying to say is quality. The kind that does not numb you from your inner self. The kind that will not rob you of choice. The kind that will let you say, “I’m off to bed, if I don’t wake up, that’s fine. I’ve lived”

***

I’m not attracted to drama. I need to survive and too much of that is comparable to slitting my wrist.

I’m all about self preservation. But have you ever been stuck, confused, helpless and utterly lost. That’s where I am at right now.

And don’t call me Emo, if you know what’s good for you.

***

Good news, bad news. I’m bored out of my skull and a relationship issue is brewing – thus a time off is needed.

Since everyone is busy – including you — I am headed to the mountains myself. Don’t worry, this is not the first time I ran off with me. I’m a backpacker. And we can be stubborn when we feel the need to leave … and leave I will, with or without cpmpany.

So before packing my bag, I had to run all my errands and endorse work items. Then tickets. Bought a round trip, called for a room reservation, then wrote on a piece of paper my very short itinerary.

When I get back, I’ll be appropriately tired. Too tired I won’t have time to entertain death by boredom.

Stupid boredom – oh well at least I’m paid lounging around. How many of you can say the same? LOL, I thought so.

Woops!

And ten days later, here we are, still struggling to run a regular beat for this page.

Why in the world is time so darn expensive?

One of these days I’m going to find time again. As soon as I am done with all the urgents, the deadlines and the must dos, I will write something a little more decent here.

But just so you are aware, I am crushing on Andrew Garfield. Drool.

When You Say Trenta, It Means 30. Right?

Are your ready foooooor …

The Trentaaaaaa!!!?

There was an audible toot when this was launched and although it has not entered my side of the globe, people are nonetheless stoked. Some may want to attempt not to keel over in undertaking its deep tub and some may just want to gawk.

And gawk, I shall do.

If and only if, I buy an SB Trenta it will only mean I am off to share it with someone. Make that 3 someone’s. Just the thought of it makes me want to formulate a way to not eat in three straight months. Until I can find it safe (that I won’t suddenly turn to a 350 lbs lady) I’ll live off the remnants of it’s ridiculous un-nutritional content.

Call me anti-hipster, prude or even anti-social (I think people socialize via coffee nowadays) I don’t give a hoot nanny’s. The only time I can assure myself that I will enjoy my coffee is if I stay below Grande. Anything over would mean a feat to overcome. A great coffee bender of epic proportion.

Ugh! No fun.