Singing Your Broken Heart Out

Sad Songs from cynlady on 8tracks Radio.

When I Can't Hold It In

Excitement like starbursts in my soul. Like smiles that can't be stifled and high wild screams of joy into the night. Fireworks in my blood that make me want to dance and sing and kiss and run. Adrenaline rushing to my brain like a roaring river flooding me with thoughts full of YES and Never Stop and Just Keep Going! A world full of life that I always forget was there and suddenly I can see it and I can feel it all. I can love it all and take it all and nothing can stop me. These moments I am endless and unafraid and invincible. I want crisp air and endless nights and joy that lasts forever with music and light and love and hearts bursting with all of the potential of every single moment.



See Also:  Depression

Potential, I said

But somehow it feels like it's become a hole.
Of potential?
As if that could make sense somehow.

As if I have this promise. This depth of undeveloped-ness. And I keep trying to feed it with thoughts. With ideas. To make it grow. To give the potential its substance. But I don't know how. And it aches and yearns and hungers.
And the longer I go without giving it what it needs, the longer I let this void of maybe possibilty sit and gnaw and fester, the more it shifts.

Potential, I said.

I felt a sense of potential.

That was only days ago.

If My Novels Were Relationships.

A Study in Steel
would be my love-child. I'm always caring for it, nurturing it, working to improve it, defending it from others, and preparing it for the real world.

Night Terrors
would be a bad ex-boyfriend. I keep coming back to it, thinking this time we can make things work. But ultimately we hit the same roadblocks, and in the end we disappoint each other.

Persephone
would be the one that got away. Always wishing it would work out, always imagining, with deep melancholy and wistfulness, how great it could be (if only...), but always inevitably seeing that it's just out of reach.

Depression

 

Depression hurts like bruises trapped in your heart like clouds behind your eyes and scars wrapped around your skin. Anxiety like electricity blazing through your head and worms slithering in your veins. Fear like hands gripping your wrists, tying you down and clamping your mouth shut, but if it opened all you could do is scream because the world is crashing down on you even when nothing is wrong. Mean Reds like noise in your head, driving you away from your life and under the covers. Hide. Run. Don't smile. Don't talk. Cry. Just cry and hide and let the lonely in as the world goes on around you like a ride that's just too high. Just too fast. You weren't invited and wouldn't have any fun anyway. It's your life and it's always just out of reach.

2013.

My first note of the new year is to never again drink "Red Velvet" flavored anything unless you like to have your cake and drink it too.
We couldn't even finish the bottle, every sip left my mouth feeling like it'd been bathed in super-sweet cherry chocolate. I should have just gotten the cheap plain bubbly.
Oh well, we'll find something to celebrate for and drink champagne so I can get my yearly fix.

My NYE was uneventful, but happily highlighted by a small plate of sushi and a bottle of Hana Awaka (to myself). The sweet, sparkly sake is something I've turned into my own NYE tradition. Not cheap, but worth it once a year. Then the two of us played a quick practice game of Munchkin Bites on the floor and watched tv.

This week my focus has to be on editing and getting as much of my current assignment done before the school year starts back up. I want to have a paycheck on the way before I go back to the awkward, stressful mediocrity that is substituting.

My new years resolutions are mediocre as well, with just the same things that are pretty much on the list every single year. Not hard things, necessarily, but not simple, specific ones, either.

The two things I really want to do this year are to be more of myself-- which first requires me to really find out what that means, which is the hard part --  and to create more. I read recently that one of the problems today is that we are consumers, not creators. We consume what others have made; food, tv, games, music, books, art, etc., without creating enough of our own. I'd like to create something every day this year, even if it's as simple as a drawing or a blog entry or a story or a meal. Every single day; something created.

So go out and live and love and smile and create in the New Year.

A New Year on Its Way

So I sort of have a new computer. On loan, basically. And I only have it for two weeks before I'm probably lending it to someone else for a month, so... not having my own computer has been an oddly placid hassle. I use the boys, usually, but when he's not home I don't really have the chance to write or work (I'm officially a freelance Editor now, win!). And when he isn't home I tend to feed my Triple Town addiction...

But a new year is on its way, which means a new collage and pages of resolutions in my Bible, hopefully a party where I can dress up and drink champagne, and a short-lived feeling of newness and rebirth come the first few days of January.
But right now, for the first time in quite a while, things seems to have potential. I'm working (a little) and still a substitute teacher (can't wait to get out of that, but at least I get to make my own schedule) and Christmas (my favorite holiday, even as an atheist) left me with a lot of things I really kind of needed. Clothes that I actually like and can wear to work, so I can finally throw away some of the things I've had since I was 14; a new cookware set so I'm not eating bits of Teflon in my soups; and a lot of things I actually kind of wanted: books, blankets, a munchkin game.

Somehow, I feel a very slight, subtle sense of... possibility, for the first time since I graduated college. I even have a little pile of story ideas spinning around in my head that I think are eager to get out, including a fantasy series (comic?) that was originally my partner's idea, but I've evolved and would like to write down, and a dark children's story that I think could be really good.

I'm afraid of this too, unfortunately, because much of this possibility will have to begin with a cleansing of what currently is. 

I need to throw away my scratched and broken pots and pans to make room for my beautiful new set.
I need to throw away the clothes that are torn, don't fit, and I just don't like, and finally make room for a wardrobe that I actually look forward to wearing, and create a more concrete (though still completely fluid) visual identity that I actually like, and makes me feel like me.
I need to redo the office and its contents for the beau's new Drafting Table-- which means his hulking desk is now mine, which is another new beginning to cleanse and start.
I need to reevaluate my living space as a whole to find a way to keep it clean and love it and discourage laziness.
I need to purge myself of laziness and focus wholeheartedly on this work that I really really want to do for the rest of my life, which I'm finally taking baby steps towards.
I need to reevaluate my working life, since I didn't get into grad school and now have a large span of time without a proper plan or indication of what/where I want to be. This is slightly alleviated by the point above, but as my freelance work is small and only just beginning to crawl, there has to  be something else in the meantime.
I need to pour energy into my body (exercise) and relationship (attitude) by letting go of the past and beginning again.

And these aren't even my resolutions. Though now that I've written them they're definitely going in my Bible...

Having said that, I need to get to work. I have a new novel to edit, and I haven't even gotten to the second page.

Wish me luck.