Two Weeks

I still can't get over this song. Even though it reminds me of summer, I think I'll carry it long into winter.

Nervous Tics, Physical Responses

(Warning: This post is unorganized, unpolished, and unsure of itself. It doesn't work to resolve anything. It just rambles.)

Last night, determined to help rid my eyes of their purple bags, I applied cucumber slices over each of them, rested my head on a pillow, and put on some music.

After about two songs I gave up. I forgot how much I hated having alien objects anywhere near my eyes. Not only did the cucumbers’ cold temperature frustrate me, but the residue—the very thing that probably helps alleviate tired eyes—made me tense.

That’s why today I’m rubbing my eyes and looking more fatigued than ever.

Well, that’s probably not the only reason. Some suggest I need better or more sleep. Other resources tell me I’m doomed: This could all be the fault of genetics.

What this got me thinking about were nervous tics and physical responses. Like a lot of people, I mutilate my fingernails at the mercy of my razor-toothed mouth. Frequent nail biting is not so odd, but my other tic doesn’t seem as common, though, who knows, I could be in great company.

I often tend to wrap my right hand around my left wrist whenever I’m anxious or nervous or uncomfortable. Once I’ve got a firm grip, I ring my poor wrist like a wet washcloth, taking pleasure in being able to feel my bones and arteries.

I had to stop wearing a watch because it interfered with this habit. I found myself pushing the watch as far up my arm as it could go, which, in and of itself, was a rather gratifying tic, but better than that, it allowed me access again to this vulnerable region of my body.

Why do this? Is it a physical manifestation of my anxieties? A bad habit I’m capable of breaking? Or a defense mechanism? A way of “closing” myself off, a physical hint to back away.

Mostly this probably reveals that I’m a nutcase, and an insecure one at that.

But at least it’s getting cold, so I can always use that as a disguise. “Sorry, don’t mean to cradle myself in front of you. Just trying to warm up.”

I made a deal with myself to stop letting things get to me and to start getting over myself, but man, no wonder the cliché “easier said than done” exists. Right now reinvention sounds so much simpler. Lately my mind wanders into nomadic territories, how I am this close to packing up and moving out if I didn’t already have things to take care of where I am already.

For now I browse other cities’ Craigslist profiles, trying to figure out which one is most likely to accept my nervous disposition and ever-changing ideals. Just in case.

Fickle

Ignore my last post. Forgive me, Blogspotty. I'm back for good.

I have to laugh at myself for thinking Tumblr was a suitable alternative. As if I could find the material to post something every day, even if it is small. I belong to way too many online communities as it is—what's the point of re-posting pictures I've already uploaded to Flickr?

But back to laughing at myself: Huge theme in my life lately. On September 1st I permanently moved to Brooklyn. (Well, for at least a year, says my lease.) I live in a very cute but very expensive apartment that doesn't quite feel like home yet. Yet. I know I have to give it some time.

The problem is that I am drawn to stability, and there's nothing like moving to a new city and trying to find your footing in it that says "stability." I like to think that I can adjust to change, but there is nothing about the process that I particularly like. Yes, I enjoy discovering new places and the quirks that lie within, but it's such a lengthy procedure until I finally feel comfortable. I guess that's what happens when you move to the largest city in the United States.

I was finally used to Boston and then I left her. For as much as I hated it at times (terrible subway system, awful sports fans, and sometimes not enough to do), there were as many good things to counter the bad. Namely, friends. A place to call "home" is nothing without the people you care most about in it. Four years of friendships and now I practically have to start over.

That's not fair. I have people here who care about me. But not four years' worth. I'm lucky that I'm only a four-hour bus ride away from some of them, but realistically, how often can I make that bus? Especially when I'm trying my best to save money, yet it still manages to disappear faster than I can track.

I sound like I'm having a terrible time, and that's not true or fair either. There are moments that whisper, You made the right decision. But I'm waiting for the exclamations!, the shouts!, the tintinnabulations! (which I just learned from Dictionary.com's Word of the Day) of bells in a cacophonous swelling that says I'm where I'm supposed to be, at least for now.

But I'm just spoiled. Instantaneous gratification is a nice fantasy, but rarely happens. (Except for eating. Food satisfaction is always instantaneous.) So I spend my time idly enjoying life post-BFA degree. I haven't found a full time job yet, which is disheartening. I have a feeling that my dedication to a new job that I care about would greatly curve my apathy and give me something that is mine. The longer I wait, the more confused I become about my future. I said MFA programs were off my radar, but sometimes I have to at least entertain the idea. I miss the deadlines of writing, which seem to be what I need in order to produce anything. I'm trying to kick the habit.

Otherwise I'm going to be knitting and watching too much TV-on-DVD. Not that I'm complaining. I'm going to have a warm fall scarf and be able to quote Jerri Blank even more. I guess, for the first time in a while, I'm experiencing the "What's next?" phase. I've never been great at dealing with everything when it's up in the air. I like to have points A and B every now and then. But it doesn't seem like there are many options now. Or maybe there are too many! I just have to embrace the confused twenty-two-year-old that I am.

And embrace it I will.

There's a Bandwagon . . .

. . . and I'm jumping on it! Tumblr does seem easier for me to update with, though I'm sure it will come to suffer from the same neglect my other online communities know.

cardiogram.tumblr.com

Adieu, Blogspotty.