Well holy hell in a nutshell with holy guacamole on the side... SHE'S BACK!
It's only been, what... 3 years? Since I last blogged? BUT WHO'S COUNTING AMIRITE?!
If you've been here before, you know the drill! If you're reading this and wondering what the heck I'm talking about, I used to write a blog on a semi-regular basis.
SEMI... regular... basis...
It's something I've wanted to do again for many many years, but through a series of tragic & unfortunate events, I've allowed the creative person inside of me to slowly wither away. She's not dead, but she's barely alive. And I miss her. I miss her SO MUCH that it hurts.
So here I am, beginning yet AGAIN to satisfy those creative needs inside of me (and also have an outlet for my ever-over-analyzing-loony-bin mind that so desperately needs to word vomit all over something other than the fantastic people in my life).
So what's been going on these last several years? Let's start from the top, shall we?
From Fresno to Los Angeles to San Diego to San Francisco and now back to LA, I've certainly taken advantage of being a single, childless woman, free to move about the entire state and find where I feel most at home. Most recently, I spent 4 years in San Francisco, where sadly things just... didn't go well for me, to say the least. Buster dying within the first year certainly set the tone for my experience there, but so many things happened that I could never summarize in an opening post. So let's just say there will be sad story time posts in your near future. I'd say "you're welcome" buuuuut, it's a lot of sad stuff so, stock up on tissues now.
And maybe chocolate. Chocolate helps.
Ooo and ice cream. We stan ice cream.
ANYways, just under a year ago, I had a terrible experience (again, for another post) that forced me to sit back and take a very serious look at my life. I asked myself 3 things: What do I want? How can I achieve it? And where can I achieve it? Every question pointed back to LA, that wonderful city that tore me down and built me back up so many years ago. I wanted to live alone again. I wanted to have the opportunities that only a large city could provide. I wanted the sunshine again; the beach, the mountains (we're surrounded by them, albeit they're not close). I wanted to return to the first home I had found outside of my hometown. So, I did. I gave my notice at work, flew into town to find an apartment, and about a month later I was back in LA.
That was a year ago... and while a lot has changed for me, I wouldn't necessarily say I've "achieved" anything I set out to do while here. At least, not yet. This is where writing comes in.
I'm a writer at heart. I've been writing since I was 9 years old, when I created a poem simply called "Funny Face Pancakes" about, you guessed it, the funny face pancakes at IHOP. Typical of a child to write about the simplest of life's pleasures, I began writing poems called "Trees" and "Birds" (riveting stuff, I KNOW) and soon began writing songs. While I took piano as a kid, I didn't write music on any kind of instrument but my voice. I would sing melodies that I memorized with the cheesiest of bubble-gum pop lyrics and sing every song every day until my neighbors likely wanted to move. In my teenage years, I began trying my hand at short stories, and even dreamt of one day penning a novel. One day in my early 20's, I sat down to write a blog, something I had attempted several years prior but to no avail. I soon became addicted and was writing almost daily, with few but very dedicated readers. I was also writing music every day, composing hundreds of songs that now collect dust in a tub of notebooks. It was clear that writing was my passion, and I loved doing it as much as possible.
However, in my late-20's to my now early-30's, the evil soul-crusher that is depression towered over me and almost won. After a good 4 years of the worst depression of my entire life, I finally felt I had defeated the beast sometime last year. I was very wrong, and am now learning it's something I will forever fight, on a day-to-day (sometimes moment-to-moment) basis. I'm sure many of you can relate, but I am particularly skilled in self-sabotage, procrastination, irresponsibility and eventual stagnancy. I also love to assume everyone secretly hates me and it's inevitable that they'll all leave cause everyone does cause why wouLD ANYONE WANT TO BE MY FRIEND I'M LIKE WAY TOO MUCH TO HANDLE AND AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
*ahem*
As I was saying... I have my own set of issues just like everyone else. But at 33 years old, nearing 34 in a handful of months, I am so far behind in life that it scares me, and has become a dangerous routine of mine. See here's the thing... I recently quit my full-time job, bought a CAR, and set out to build the life I've spoken of for so long. Work independently and (as much as possible) from home, turn my passions into income, write again, create music again, cook again; all the things that I have loved for so long. But there are bills to be paid and a kitten to take care of (oh yeah, I got a kitten!) and responsibilities I have piled on myself that I have, well... let fall by the wayside as I stew in depression and stagnancy and all of the aforementioned problems that haunt my every day existence.
Well you know what? FUCK ALL THAT. I'm done. The time to change has never been more evident and the only person in control of that is ME. So here I am, trying. All I can do is try. It's time to shut the hell up and get shit done. In fact, HECK TRYING. I'm gonna DO it. I'm gonna make this life the best it can be for me because I only get one and whatever it means, whyever (yes that's a word now shhhhh) we're here, I want to enjoy it. So sit back, take it sleazy (wait I think I stole that from somewhere...) and join me on this journey to a better me.
Also wish me luck cause I suuuuuuuck at growing up but I'm sure gonna try :D
