I mean it isn't missing. It is physically still present, but I've always felt it brought a certain spirit of excitement along with it. Now it's not anything, it's just a crusty old hat. At the most I'm sure people think I'm homeless if I'm wearing it. Where did that spark go?
I know I shouldn't be putting so much stock into a hat, material worth isn't everything, but I love that hat like I love my left butt cheek. (Not in a narcissistic 'hey my butt is so awesome' or an asexual 'god damn cut me off a piece of that', it's more of a 'hey that's my left butt cheek, I can't imagine life without it, it'd be kind of weird.')
I guess what I'm really getting at is that I had all of these exciting notions of San Francisco and my time spent here, and honestly, I feel like I'm on a short business trip. I have been here for approximately 24 days and I feel just as caged in as I did in Georgia. The problem isn't location I realize. The problem is that no matter where I am the thing that is trapping me is my mind. I have so many things going on in my head, but I'm so afraid of failure that I shut it all down automatically and settle for just turning into a vegetable. Just writing this entry is difficult, I keep thinking about pressing delete and being done with my whole livejournal completely.
The problem is that my entire life has been about second guessing my entire life. I have trouble accepting the concept that although things are past and cannot be changed that never means you can't take what you've been given and make it into something even better.
Nothing I've been given is all that bad, but I haven't got the first clue as to what the hell I'm supposed to do with it.
I am always, always flying by the seat of my pants. I am always unsure.
I am incapable of making plans and sticking to them because I don't know where to start, so I spend so long finding the beginning that I end up chasing my tail at the end.
This isn't making any sense.
To sum it up, I'm confused. I'm lost. I really need a good push in the right direction because right now I can't even tell which way is up.
My name is Dani.
I'm 21 and I live in an assisted living hotel for the elderly.
My neighbor listens to La Boheme and Madame Butterfly every night full volume.
When I use the building laundry room I always find granny panties trailing down the hallway.
I hope to whatever higher authority there is that my life is more than just an accident.
I am on one side of the country and my kind-of-somewhat-not-really-boyfriend is on the other. Said kind-of-somewhat-not-really-boyfriend is going to a strip club tonight with some of our friends and I kind of sort care, but not so much. Should I care more? Should I tell him not to? I mean he isn't really my boyfriend, but he is.
I don't really care.
Okay I do.
What the hell?
This is one of those huge moves where you know that everything is going to change. It's the big one. The beginning. And it's an exciting beginning, but this is different. I'm not super excited about it, I'm absolutely terrified. Sick to my stomach. I'm afraid of all of the things I am about to miss. All of the people I won't see. What if I'm different when I get back, what if I'm not the same? What if the people who used to know me don't want to know me anymore? What if they've moved on?
I know none of this should really bother me. After all I'm moving on, kicking and screaming but I'm moving on. Why shouldn't I want the same for all the people that I love?
Well, it's because I want them to be mine forever.
But they weren't mine to begin with.
Saying my thoughts out loud always makes them feel less important.
Yes, a singular dreadlock. Blame it on my inability to commit to any one thing. I don't care if you call it wimping out, the way I see it I have one more dreadlock than the majority of people can brave, so suck on it.
I am tired of people judging each other. I am tired of people telling me they like my sweater and then turning around and telling everyone else how ugly my sweater is. Is it really that hard to just be honest? Is it really more fun to be mean? It sounds ridiculous to me. Normally I will tell people how I honestly feel, but if they obviously don't respect me or my opinions then I just keep it to myself. It's obviously a waste of time to even bother. Life seems so long and boring sometimes, but I cannot understand how causing conflicts or fanning the flames of them is any way to spice things up. You are simply burning bridges, not building them.
Not to toot my own horn but it's true.
While watching Planet Earth, enjoying a nice big class of milk and a brownie the other day I decided something. I like Planet Earth. I really want to work on a show/documentary like Planet Earth. But how do I go about doing that? After all I'm just a little sound designer, even if I did get the chance to work on a show of that caliber it would be in post. I wouldn't be there, watching the 30 lions take down an elephant or standing in the ballroom of Lechuguilla. I would be staring at a computer screen for hours on end, trying desperately to meet a deadline.
So I am going to do what I can to build a background of experience in areas of anthropology, geography and animal conservation. And to start I've been researching the Wolf Sanctuaries. Perhaps there is something there for me. One never knows.
I am in an anthropology class at the moment and I'm enjoying it more than I'd expected to. Because of the class I am considering continuing my studies in graduate school and going into ethnomusicology. Who knows.
I am in the process of finding an apartment in San Francisco for the summer and find said process to be incredibly difficult. It is a process which requires me to put a large amount of faith in craigslist and normally I am a person of little faith on any level. I replied to several listings and all of them have emailed back asking for a description of me. Me in a nutshell? No one fits in a nutshell. I'm almost offended that they expect me to describe myself within a small paragraph. Surely it must be only a short paragraph because if it is too long than they will either get bored with me or think that I am absolutely full of myself. Or perhaps both. I am a little bit of both: boring and full of myself. I like to think of my life as a movie sometimes, only those boring parts that get cut out (i.e. using the bathroom, grooming, bathing, sleeping, eating, boring conversation, points in time where nothing remotely interesting is happening) are actually in the movie and they are the major points that drive the plot. The plot is to be as boring and inconsequential as humanly possible and use the bathroom more than normal.
If your life was a movie would you be the main character?
As long as my life isn't a reality tv show I don't think I would really care.
If you want your life to be IN a movie, check this out!
Here are some of the little tokens I talked about a few weeks ago. Feel free to make your own. Pass it on, hide it somewhere, write some poetry inside.
Pass it on poetry.
St. Patrick's Day was not quite what I had expected. I still made plenty of money, and of course I spent it on things I did not need. But it was nothing like the stories that I've heard. Oddly enough I made top dollar, and I worked the day shift. Pedicab still doesn't feel like a job to me, even now. It's too much fun, and all the people that work there are so cool it hurts. Yes, they are really that cool.
This entry is terribly superfluous and I apologize. I'm just in one of those moods today.
Completely unrelated, you should watch this video, Regina Spektor is adorable. I wish my name was Regina Spektor and that I was from Russia so I could do whatever the fuck I wanted.
I've been looking around for a new/old road bike with little to no luck at all. None of the shops really sell used road bikes, just brand new disgustingly expensive ones. The majority of the road bikes they sell are also fixed gears...fixed gears and I don't get along. We never get along. Well, I should say fixed gear and intoxicated me don't get along. I've decided to just buy an old frame and fix myself up a purty bike of my own.
This sounds like a fun plan, but ultimately it is just as/if not more expensive as buying a new one. Maybe I'm the only one, but personally the new model road bikes are kind of fucking ugly. Just me? Fair enough...
I'm going to stop right here before this gets any worse. Excuse my writing today, this is not the norm I swear.
Chocolate is yummy,
Chocolate is nice,
It goes in my tummy,
And that will suffice.
The free elective: at an art university any general education elective turns into a philosophy class in some capacity. Although intellectually stimulating, it is completely useless when trying to apply said philosophy to everyday life. Simply put, philosophy is talking in circles about the way things are, saying them in every combination of words possible, and then discussing even more about how they could change. My beat poetry class is a perfect example of this. Sure, I like to talk about the way things are and how I'd like them to change, but if I am going to be philosophizing and listening to other people's bullshit theories I'd better be thoroughly baked or something.