All Apologies

...On What I Learned This Year

The end of the year, right? So I 'm supposed to reminisce on all of the good and bad of this year and make plans for the next, huh?

I guess...

Ive grown out of New Years resolutions a long time ago and I 'd rather forget about 2012 than sit and dwell on it.  

It is a widely held truth that we should take from the current year lessons that will make us better in the new year. But I 'm kinda in an interesting position.  The most significant lesson - the most affluent theme- of my year has been "Use it".  

As in, "You already know (knew) that, now just use it."  

Like the hardheaded sonofabitch that I am, I have repeatedly found myself in situations this year where I 've gone against my better judgement (JUST FOR THE SAKE OF GOING AGAINST MY BETTER JUDGEMENT-might I add) only to have things blow up in my face.  And then the little devil that lives on my right shoulder laughs at me hysterically and does the Grace Adler "Told Ya So" dance.  

So, in short, this year was NOT about learning anything new. It was about taking heed to the shit I already knew.  

If I sit and think of all the things that I could have done differently or improved upon or blah, blah, blah they would all share the common denominator of me just scaling back and abiding by my already established/tested/tried-and-true set of guidelines to life.  

Trapped In My Mind

So I complain about being a "grown up" far more than I praise it(I used quotations because I like to think I'm only an adult in the literal sense).  One major perk of being a grown up is that by now, you have had enough one-on-one experiences with your damn self to differentiate between when you are legitimately going through something worth examining further and when you're just going through some cyclical shit that you always go through at particular times of year or in particular types of situations. 

That self-knowledge has been saving my ass lately.  I'll get on this kick and obsess over something for days on end and wonder what the hell is wrong with me.  Then I remember, oh, shit. Its *insert month here*.  I always get like this around *insert event/holiday here*.  Then I'm back to normal.

I'm usually knocked off my axis the most during the following times: June/July, August/Sept and December/January.   That five month stretch between February and June is pretty anti-climatic. I'm on mental and emotional autopilot.  Alls my feels and thoughts are in hibernation during this time.

Those other blips are the polar opposite.  I'm a clusterfuck of emotions, anxiety attacks and nervous wrecks.  Of course, I am exaggerating but you get the point.  

December/January is the fucking worst.  The end and beginning.  Its holiday time and I'm alone in the greatest city in the world.  Any other time of year, that is the illest factor in my very existence.  I love being uncommitted in New York. I can't really put it into understandable words but understand that its nirvana for me.   But then holiday and birthday time roll up on me and I'm done.  I'm either a cry baby or a scrooge. Or I'm a fake Plymouth-Rock-landed-on-me atheist-sounding poo-poo head.  Whatever I can do to shit on the holiday season, I do. Dispicable me. 

Do not even speaketh of my born day.  I.Don't.Want.To.Do.Shit.Wit.Cho.Ass.
Horrible, I know. I KNOW. But this is exactly what I'm talking about.  I've experienced myself enough to know that, basically, I'm on one.  No need to worry.  A few weeks of wallowing about and I'll be good. That simple.

Funny enough, its this time of year plus June/July that I psyche myself into thinking I want a boyfriend.  Here is where I should probably note that I happen to be the biggest commitment phobe I've ever encountered in my life.  But during these two times of year, I pretend that I've been miraculously cured of my lethal illness.  I don't know.  Something about being cold and bored or hot and bothered?... I haven't the slightest.

Last are my August/September episodes aka What Am I Doing?  I self-assess my life.  I'm mortified by what I see. I reconfigure my life plan. I obsess over the unlikliness of it actually happening.  I consider a life as a gypsy, political activist, professional criminal or housewife.  I sulk and then its over.

I hate that one.

Again, the glory is in knowing me. If I didn't know the girl that lives in this body, I'd be on drugs, legal and otherwise.

Suspended

Don't you just love it when shit makes sense?  Isn't it grand when you're not suspended in a state of confusion? 

Maybe it's just me.  

The more I advance into (and through) my twenties I'm seeing that life is really about experience, reflection and impact.  On most days, those three simple ideas leave me with a case of the crazies wondering whether or not I'm doing it right.

But today is not one of those days.

I'm Baccarat. Or at least I'm as clear as I should be right now. Life has a really interesting way of bringing things to light for us. Folks say you should check yourself if you keep ending up in the same type of situations, and while I believe that to be true in many cases, its bullshit a lot of the time too. You are who you are and where you are for a reason.  Your mortal ass attempts at changing that are counterproductive to your purpose. Don't waste your time.  

Don't Even Ask Me

"I wouldn't know what to do with another chance 

If you gave it to me 

I couldn't take the embrace of a real romance 

It'd race right through me 

I'm much better off the way things are 

Much much better off, better by far, by far 

I wouldn't know what to say to a gentle voice 

It'd roll right past me 

And if you chalk it up you'll see I don't really have a choice 

So don't even ask me 

I'm much better off, the way things are 

Much much better off, better by far 

So keep on calling me names, keep on, keep on 

And I'll keep kicking the crap till it's gone 

If you keep on killing, you could get me to settle 

And as soon as I settle, I bet I'll be 

Able to move on 

How can I fight, when we're on the same side 

How can I fight beside you"- Fiona Apple, The Way Things Are

    On one hand its weird to reject the lovely nuances of romance and the state of being in love.  On the other hand, its not like God himself descended from the heavens and required that you do. And just because you are born with a certain genitalia doesn't mean that you have to lean one way more than the other.

I'on know, man.

Forget it.

Over My Dead Body

*Le Sigh*

Who needs a shrink when you have a pen and paper? Or the internet? 

I stopped writing this way for a while.  And it showed. But I've picked it up again and I'd like to think I'm at my best with it now.

So yeah, into the mind of a creative, a Capricorn, a twenty-five year old, a dreamer, a girl......

It gets pretty complex up there sometimes.  So much so that shit just fades to black sometimes and theres nothing going on up there at all. Then it comes pouring back tenfold.

Writing should be mandatory. If not for everyone, at least for me.  Shit could sit on my mind for months with no closure but once I transfer it to paper (or computer) I'm instantly relieved.  

I could hate myself for being so in my head all the time.  I could let it drive me crazy. I could drown myself in drugs and psychologist bills. Or I could just hide from it.

But really, what would be the point? 

Even though it rarely seems so, I think your thoughts are all related/connected. And if you work through just one, you end up uncovering some shit about another. I guess thats the scary part. 

The exposure.

Exposure> Vulnerability> Pain> Some kind of death.

I'm not built for any of those things.  No one is. But the fear isn't worth the sacrifice. Or at least thats the lesson I'm trying to get through to myself. I don't think any of those things are escapable. And if thats the case, why be afraid to understand them?

So when that one that you finally want is no longer an option, when you're dead wrong about something you really wanted to be right about, and no one will ever understand...just write

I'm a Braveheart

"I drove an old school Beamer
You drove an eighteen wheeler
With nuclear bombs
Slowly dropping them down for fun
But I didn't run..." Brave, Kelis


No one wants to be fucking rejected. 

Like, ever, bro.

But the shit happens. Everyday. All day. 
To people who deserve it just as well as those who don't.

What are you gonna do?

I had a paralytic fear of rejection. I'm talking some unnormal-type shit.  I'da sooner died than put myself in a position to be played so brutally.  The thought of someone being able to look at me with the word "Loser" written across my forehead, and THEY'RE the one who put it there?? And I actually like THEIR ass? The HORROR!

Fuck. Outta. Here.
Not the kid.

...Until it actually happened. 
Twice.

Its hilarious.  I mean, my feelings were absolutely demolished at the time but that shits only fleeting.  Thank God.

What I'm trying to unload is that it wasn't that damn bad, now that I look back on it. So what? Bitches weren't feeling me, fine. It cost them nothing to pay me no mind. 

No matter how vile it may seem that someone isn't interested in your awesome ass; no matter how malicious their efforts in getting that message to you may actually be- it doesn't fucking matter.

In the end, you get a thicker skin out of the experience and know what to stay the hell away from in the future.

Miles

You ever forget who you are sometimes?

And no, I'm not on my usual emo shit today.  This isn't some in-my-head shit.  

I mean, like, do you ever find yourself thinking or acting some kind of way that is totally not YOU?

Like, normally I'm a lover of all things unconventional.  I love learning shit.  I like getting to understand  things that are outside of my comfort zone.  And I'm usually pretty unapologetic about it. I will FIEND OUT for you to help me understand something.  You will want to slap me.

...Normally.

So why then, am I being a little scary bitch about asking someone this one thing that I REALLY WANT TO FUCKING KNOW THE ANSWER TO? 
1) Because its about myself
2) I'm afraid.
3) The answer has no real function in life other than to irritate my soul.

Walk with me through this one.  The music of Miles Davis and a 10-second reality check from my best friends boyfriend gave me the courage to get this far.  I can't stop now.

My normal self is courageous.  I'm a pretty brave girl, in theory. Sort of. My normal self doesn't care too much what people think about me personally. Don't get me wrong- I'm VERY interested in peoples perception of me but not in the sense that it affects what the hell I do.

So if the above statements are true, I should NOT be afraid to hear what this person has to say about me, right? 

Where the fuck is my 'normal self' right now?

...ok, so maybe I am being in-my-head again.

BUT

If we move past the fear factor of it all, to the next point...

3)It doesn't even matter. At All.

I'm fiending to know something that, even if I had the answer to, wouldn't do or change anything.  So whats really the point?

There is no point.

I'm just neurotic.

I Was Here

I want to be inspiring.

I want to be brave.

I want to be unafraid.

I want to encourage.

I want to motivate.

I want to be secure spiritually, emotionally, financially.

I want to be an activist.

I want to make an impact on people.

I want to make an impact on the world.

I want to be full of wisdom and knowledge.

I want to be free to make changes in my life on a whim.

I want to be creative.

I want to be an entrepreneur.

I want to be a writer.

I want to travel.

I want to live my life to its fullest capacity and potential.

I want to do what I was put on earth to do.

I want to be who I was put on earth to be.