Not really. If you, the reader, have been waiting for a new post, I'm sorry. I don't have a concrete reason I haven't written more, but I haven't. Now I'm back.
I don't know who all reads these. That is part of the beauty of blogging, from my perspective: I can say almost anything and it doesn't matter, partly because I don't go by my IRL name, and partly because, even IRL, I don't usually care much what people think of me. There are some things I won't say on here. Some I think are too private. Some are not mine to write. Some, and a very few are they, I won't say because I fear losing some of the few people I love.
Today has been one of my "days." "Days" in quotations are different from Days. Capitol-D Days are when nothing seems to go right. "Days" are times - not necessarily 24-hour periods - when I am completely miserable, but don't know why.
I have been having several thoughts about which I could write. Many probably deserve their own post; I do not have the energy for such things right now. I guess I'll just see how many I get done before I must sleep.
I am going back to Oregon in May. It was supposed to only be a two-ish week trip. Now I'm staying for three months. I mostly wouldn't care. I have to leave Kona here, in Ohio. Kona is my horse, for those who aren't aware. I have never been away from him for three months before. From the time we breed his mom, I have never been away from him for more that a month. Not ever. He is my baby and I am terrified that something will happen to him and I won't be here for him. Other than that, there is a significant, for me, list of people I do not want to see back in Oregon. In a way, coming to Ohio was a way to run away from them. Mostly, Ohio was chasing a future I want.
I try not to make people choose when I argue. I don't like to argue in general, but when I do, I try to minimize the emotional casualties. I'm usually rational enough to talk myself down from the brink of making someone choose. When I'm not, I don't usually tell the person that I'm making them choose. I listen and I watch, and I decide from there on what side the individual is. I did that a couple months ago. There was exactly one person from my class of 18 that I kept in touch with after leaving Oregon. Something happened and I made him choose. He did not choose me/my side. Those who know me, and those who have read much of this blog probably know I am not the type to call a cease-fire. So, now, in the entire world, I consider myself to have four friends. There are two or three with potential to become friends, but they are all likely to leave my area of the universe before I form enough of an emotional attachment to consider them true friends.
I am not a crier, but I am a topic-jumper. There is one actor that had created tides of emotion in me unmatched by pretty much anything else anywhere in my existence. That actor is David Tennant. I watched him - a character played by him - die twice in one night earlier this week. I bawled both times, even though one of them I knew his final line and the other wasn't actually David Tennant, but another actor playing th older version of David Tennant's character. Thirty minutes into one of the story lines I was already crying, which almost never happens.
I have "days," as mentioned earlier. Some are harder than others. Today was pretty bad. I know that there are people to which I matter. I do not think I should. From my perspective, the only change I have brought to their lives is negative. Some have told me that my decision made their life better, but they can't know that. Maybe their lives would have been better if I had not done what I did. These are the "days" I wish time energy would catch up to me, erasing me from existence, making it as though I never existed at all.
Those are the days I am so miserable I simply function for lack of other options. It isn't a desire to die. It is more a wager that the world, the entirety of time and space and life would be better for the lack of me. For, really, what good have I brought to the world? What can I do? I have expectations so much higher for myself than for others. One person can change the world, or begin the change, or inspire the change, or be part of the change. I, though, I must do so much more to deserve my existence. How can I look into the Untempered Schism and run or be inspired or go mad? I must do something more to accept that the universe did not make an error in allowing me to be born.
I am nothing. As nothing, I deserve no friends, no love, no support. Yet I have those things. It makes no sense to my brain. I am not intelligent enough to incite change. I am not emotional/soft/friendly enough to help or comfort. I am not calculating enough to do what must be done. I am not strong enough to save anyone. I am not strong enough to sacrifice myself. I am not objective enough to see the universe clearly. I do not have the faith to believe there is a higher purpose. I am not enough anything to be something, but I am to something to be nothing at all.
I am unarguably strange. I was working a few days ago, mucking stalls by myself. I do this on such autopilot that my mind wanders, sometimes far, sometimes not so much. This time, my mind ventured to one of the furthest points from what I would expect. It wasn't how a bicardiac system would work. No, it was what I would do, legally, for settlements, for school, for work, for Kona, for my family, if I was raped while studying abroad and was impregnated by said rapist. I was on about this in an internal conversation - yet another reason I am strange - for more that half an hour before realizing how extremely disturbed such thoughts are.
I believe in love. I have seen examples, people so much in love after decades that romantic comedies are pathetic by comparison. I do not believe in love for me. I am to too and not to enough at the same time. I am too rational and not emotional enough. I do not want to fall in love, nor do I expect to, end. There is no blue french horn in my future, not even temporarily.
I have an idea, sparked by something I found on StumbleUpon. I may start another blog documenting this project. It feels so raw and honest that I find it extremely appealing. I may link to it, if I do this. If I don't, I will link to what inspired me.
I must sleep.
Adieu,
-Genni
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