....Because I know I can't keep living in this dead or dying dream.
Normally around spring time every year, when I see congratulations banners in neighbors front lawns, and hear about graduating seniors every which way, I feel a sad sense of nostalgia. It was over three years ago now, that I graduated, and sometime before that I realized that not much was going to change when I did. I always imagined growing up that I would have a job right out of college. I don't know if I am supposed to blame tv, my parents, or just my silly naivety, but that obviously is not what happened.
I haven't felt down about it in a long time. Even though friends of mine, with more targeted majors, have gone on and gotten real jobs where they use their degrees and get paid more money than me. Somehow I had been avoiding the feeling of doom when you realize your life is not going quite as planned.
This year fall brought with it the doom I had been avoiding for so long. It maybe creeped up on me slowly throughout the spring and summer, and maybe its only August and fall is still two months away. But the kids are back in school now, and I am back where I was six years ago, except for the one small difference being my bachelors degree. So changes have to be made. Dreams have to be realized. Wisdom teeth should probably get pulled. But looking back, this is not what this blog was supposed to be about.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
a wishlist of sorts.
"Sometimes all I want is a job, and a god, and a wife." ....it plays in my head regularly.
I was thinking on my walk today that all I want is a house. As I passed lovely stone, brick, stucko houses with yards blooming with sunflowers, petunias, tomatoes, i really thought all I want is a house and a lawn. But that's not quite true.
All I want is a living space where I can have room to garden. I want rows of tomato plants, and jalapenos, cayenne peppers, and cucumbers. I want giant sunflowers close to the house reaching just over the gutters and shorter ones clustered closer to the road. I want a small herb garden I can move into the greenhouse or put in a sunny window during the winter. I want to be able to let the dogs out to potty late at night and not worry they'll get hit by cars. Jameson can hold it forever now but that won't always be the case. I want to be prepared. And I want to have enough space and nice enough neighbors to have a few birds to lay eggs in case Spiderman wants to eat an egg. I'd be ok with just one but I think she would get lonely. I think two or three will do, chickens or ducks. I'm not that picky.
I was thinking on my walk today that all I want is a house. As I passed lovely stone, brick, stucko houses with yards blooming with sunflowers, petunias, tomatoes, i really thought all I want is a house and a lawn. But that's not quite true.
All I want is a living space where I can have room to garden. I want rows of tomato plants, and jalapenos, cayenne peppers, and cucumbers. I want giant sunflowers close to the house reaching just over the gutters and shorter ones clustered closer to the road. I want a small herb garden I can move into the greenhouse or put in a sunny window during the winter. I want to be able to let the dogs out to potty late at night and not worry they'll get hit by cars. Jameson can hold it forever now but that won't always be the case. I want to be prepared. And I want to have enough space and nice enough neighbors to have a few birds to lay eggs in case Spiderman wants to eat an egg. I'd be ok with just one but I think she would get lonely. I think two or three will do, chickens or ducks. I'm not that picky.
Monday, May 16, 2011
the weather is nice today
Today the bitter cold weather reflects my mood perfectly
and I thank mother nature for being so accommodating.
It is something, not much,
but something to be happy about.
I've spent the last week constantly on the verge of tears but they never fall.
They stay,
keeping the pressure high in my head,
creating a constant head ache
and heavy weight I feel on my chest
with every breath I take.
and I thank mother nature for being so accommodating.
It is something, not much,
but something to be happy about.
I've spent the last week constantly on the verge of tears but they never fall.
They stay,
keeping the pressure high in my head,
creating a constant head ache
and heavy weight I feel on my chest
with every breath I take.
practice
Everything I read about writing tells me in order to be good at it I need to do it everyday. I'm finding that particularly difficult, because I don't always have something to say. I understand the concept, practice makes perfect, but lately I can only write anything worth reading when I am feeling particularly ripe with emotion.
I don't hate Hollywood for my distorted body image. I don't hate Hollywood for making me think that at 118 I'd still look a lot better if I lost five pounds. I think beauty should be something worth striving towards constantly. It should be hard to obtain and always slightly out of reach. I think if all the models and actresses looked just like me they would have no right to be famous and wealthy, and partly that's true either way.
But what I really hate Hollywood for is making me feel unsuccessful. I'm 24 and I have a college degree and I am not horribly discontent with my life, but Hollywood makes me feel a lot more like a failure. In shows like Ally Mcbeal people my age drive brand new Saabs and make six figures. In movies people always get married when they're my age and have a house and kid two years later, all the while maintaining their lovely careers that they got right out of college. I know a house and kid aren't in my near future and I'm ok with that. Why do shows and movies have to make me feel bad about?
I don't hate Hollywood for my distorted body image. I don't hate Hollywood for making me think that at 118 I'd still look a lot better if I lost five pounds. I think beauty should be something worth striving towards constantly. It should be hard to obtain and always slightly out of reach. I think if all the models and actresses looked just like me they would have no right to be famous and wealthy, and partly that's true either way.
But what I really hate Hollywood for is making me feel unsuccessful. I'm 24 and I have a college degree and I am not horribly discontent with my life, but Hollywood makes me feel a lot more like a failure. In shows like Ally Mcbeal people my age drive brand new Saabs and make six figures. In movies people always get married when they're my age and have a house and kid two years later, all the while maintaining their lovely careers that they got right out of college. I know a house and kid aren't in my near future and I'm ok with that. Why do shows and movies have to make me feel bad about?
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Dear Officer Peterson,
Dear Officer Peterson,
A month ago when you pulled me over, you were pleasant and I appreciated that. I had a car filled with children and you did your best to help me calm down. When you wrote me a ticket for an expired tag, I didn't immediately hate you. I thanked you even, when you told me that if I got my vehicle registered soon the judge would probably reduce the fine or dismiss my ticket. It was nice of you also to mention that I should keep the ticket in my car so if I got pulled over for the same expired tag, the next officer would be less likely to give me a second ticket.
When I went to court today after having my car re-registered within 24 hours of receiving that ticket I felt confident based on the wonderful experience I had being pulled over. Surely court could not be the worst part of any ordeal involving police and tickets. But Dekalb County Recorders Court is probably the closest I have come to hell on earth. It sits among rows of what looked like abandoned buildings, along side animal control, and the dump. I had to pay five dollars just to park, so I could sit in court and be treated like a petty criminal. The judge did not care that I had registered my vehicle so soon after learning my tag had expired. The fact that I was driving an unregistered vehicle was all that mattered. And I probably could have dealt with handing over all of the money I made over the weekend running my ass off waiting tables, but on top of that to have to sit in court and waste another three hours of my life, and then have to pay for parking and another five dollars in ATM fees just to get out of there without having to go on probation. All of that was too much.
So thank you Officer Peterson for giving me the opportunity to see how shitty my life really could be.
Thanks,
Gillian
A month ago when you pulled me over, you were pleasant and I appreciated that. I had a car filled with children and you did your best to help me calm down. When you wrote me a ticket for an expired tag, I didn't immediately hate you. I thanked you even, when you told me that if I got my vehicle registered soon the judge would probably reduce the fine or dismiss my ticket. It was nice of you also to mention that I should keep the ticket in my car so if I got pulled over for the same expired tag, the next officer would be less likely to give me a second ticket.
When I went to court today after having my car re-registered within 24 hours of receiving that ticket I felt confident based on the wonderful experience I had being pulled over. Surely court could not be the worst part of any ordeal involving police and tickets. But Dekalb County Recorders Court is probably the closest I have come to hell on earth. It sits among rows of what looked like abandoned buildings, along side animal control, and the dump. I had to pay five dollars just to park, so I could sit in court and be treated like a petty criminal. The judge did not care that I had registered my vehicle so soon after learning my tag had expired. The fact that I was driving an unregistered vehicle was all that mattered. And I probably could have dealt with handing over all of the money I made over the weekend running my ass off waiting tables, but on top of that to have to sit in court and waste another three hours of my life, and then have to pay for parking and another five dollars in ATM fees just to get out of there without having to go on probation. All of that was too much.
So thank you Officer Peterson for giving me the opportunity to see how shitty my life really could be.
Thanks,
Gillian
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
depression hurts....
Dear Strangers that may or may not read this,
I am deeply sorry that I do not write more often. I should. I can never become a writer writing so infrequently. I am also sorry that whenever I do write it is rarely to inform you of positive news.
I am depressed. At least I think that I might have some symptoms, similar to what a doctor could diagnose as depression. And that in and of itself makes me sad. A close friend once said "Gillian, how come you never get depressed?" And I didn't know how to respond because I was unaware at the time that I was supposed to be getting depressed now and then, but now being depressed the whole thing just sucks.
I blame the weather. It's been raining for at least five days now, and when I tried to go plant flowers (which is my new hobby to pull me out of my "would be" depression) I think I accidentally cut seven worms in half trying to dig three 1" holes. That just made me depressed. Those poor worms, even if I didn't kill them, being cut in half sucks, trying to regrow your other half? that sounds exhausting. I can't even imagine.
So I've given up gardening until the weather is a little nicer, and the worms go back into their proper places, deep in the soil. But I feel the need to make not just my apartment beautiful, but the whole building because my upstairs neighbor who used to do that, she died. It's possible that I have no right to be sad about this, but I am. I saw her daily. I am not sure what her name was but her dog was named Gigi. I found out that Gigi was going to go live out in the country, with her former dog sitter, and that just made me sad. It shouldn't, it seems like a good life for a dog. But thinking about the life of a dog after the life of it's owner that is pretty sad. I struggle to think of my life without Jameson. I think his life without me would be pretty upsetting too.
But also the idea that someone who was a part of my life, be it a very small part of my life, is gone, forever is horribly depressing. I won't ever hear her pull out the hose and start watering the flowers, or see her walking the dog. I won't ever have her complain about my trash can staying on the street too long, or hear her loud jeep pull up to the parking spot right outside my window. Maybe I wouldn't have missed those things normally. But now I will. It wasn't long ago at all that she came and knocked on my door wondering if we had received her package by mistake. I wonder what it was? i wonder if she got to enjoy it before she went to the hospital with pneumonia. I wonder if she'd be proud of how pretty I made the front steps with flowers and greens, if she hadn't gotten that blood clot...
I am deeply sorry that I do not write more often. I should. I can never become a writer writing so infrequently. I am also sorry that whenever I do write it is rarely to inform you of positive news.
I am depressed. At least I think that I might have some symptoms, similar to what a doctor could diagnose as depression. And that in and of itself makes me sad. A close friend once said "Gillian, how come you never get depressed?" And I didn't know how to respond because I was unaware at the time that I was supposed to be getting depressed now and then, but now being depressed the whole thing just sucks.
I blame the weather. It's been raining for at least five days now, and when I tried to go plant flowers (which is my new hobby to pull me out of my "would be" depression) I think I accidentally cut seven worms in half trying to dig three 1" holes. That just made me depressed. Those poor worms, even if I didn't kill them, being cut in half sucks, trying to regrow your other half? that sounds exhausting. I can't even imagine.
So I've given up gardening until the weather is a little nicer, and the worms go back into their proper places, deep in the soil. But I feel the need to make not just my apartment beautiful, but the whole building because my upstairs neighbor who used to do that, she died. It's possible that I have no right to be sad about this, but I am. I saw her daily. I am not sure what her name was but her dog was named Gigi. I found out that Gigi was going to go live out in the country, with her former dog sitter, and that just made me sad. It shouldn't, it seems like a good life for a dog. But thinking about the life of a dog after the life of it's owner that is pretty sad. I struggle to think of my life without Jameson. I think his life without me would be pretty upsetting too.
But also the idea that someone who was a part of my life, be it a very small part of my life, is gone, forever is horribly depressing. I won't ever hear her pull out the hose and start watering the flowers, or see her walking the dog. I won't ever have her complain about my trash can staying on the street too long, or hear her loud jeep pull up to the parking spot right outside my window. Maybe I wouldn't have missed those things normally. But now I will. It wasn't long ago at all that she came and knocked on my door wondering if we had received her package by mistake. I wonder what it was? i wonder if she got to enjoy it before she went to the hospital with pneumonia. I wonder if she'd be proud of how pretty I made the front steps with flowers and greens, if she hadn't gotten that blood clot...
Thursday, February 24, 2011
things i like....
Lately everything I write is angry, venting rants. And while it does feel nice to let it all out I thought I would try something different.
The weather has taken a turn for the nice, and it's odd how suddenly I love my life. I have been able to go on long walks with Jameson in Keegan everyday since the weather had been nice. We take pictures of things that are weird, and we walk for hours in the beautiful weather. Some people get to do that on weekends (not me) but the fact that I get to sleep until 10 and get up and enjoy the beautiful weather "makes me, Amber Atkins proud to be an american," no scratch that just happy.
I also love my car in the early spring (or February?). When the weather is nice I can open my sunroof and listen to kevin devine with the windows all down. It's lovely. And my car is clean so I love it even more than normal right now. I know a lot of people love their cars, but I think I am one of few people (even fewer people with my income) that are close to owning their dream car. Nigel is my dream car. He is all I could ever really want. I can fit 3 sets of golf clubs in my trunk, or 2 car seats and a 40lb bag of dog food. I have non-leather heated seats. I get 20 miles per gallon in town, which would suck if I had just bought my car, although I think 20mpg still counts as good if its an SUV, but my car is 21 years old. He's perfect. Except not really. He's rusty and he needs new ball joints and lower control arms. But I think he'll make it. We'll replace each part slowly and carefully and then when his suspension isn't deteriorating anymore we can give him a shiny new paint job (maybe with glitter too) and he will be my dream car. So close....
The weather has taken a turn for the nice, and it's odd how suddenly I love my life. I have been able to go on long walks with Jameson in Keegan everyday since the weather had been nice. We take pictures of things that are weird, and we walk for hours in the beautiful weather. Some people get to do that on weekends (not me) but the fact that I get to sleep until 10 and get up and enjoy the beautiful weather "makes me, Amber Atkins proud to be an american," no scratch that just happy.
I also love my car in the early spring (or February?). When the weather is nice I can open my sunroof and listen to kevin devine with the windows all down. It's lovely. And my car is clean so I love it even more than normal right now. I know a lot of people love their cars, but I think I am one of few people (even fewer people with my income) that are close to owning their dream car. Nigel is my dream car. He is all I could ever really want. I can fit 3 sets of golf clubs in my trunk, or 2 car seats and a 40lb bag of dog food. I have non-leather heated seats. I get 20 miles per gallon in town, which would suck if I had just bought my car, although I think 20mpg still counts as good if its an SUV, but my car is 21 years old. He's perfect. Except not really. He's rusty and he needs new ball joints and lower control arms. But I think he'll make it. We'll replace each part slowly and carefully and then when his suspension isn't deteriorating anymore we can give him a shiny new paint job (maybe with glitter too) and he will be my dream car. So close....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)