the fog with a blog

the cloud storage of my personal thoughts

[afoggedupmind]

Avoiding Avoidance

(September 27, 2017)

I thought that I was going to be keeping up with a blog while I was living in Alaska, but that didn’t happen this time around. I was too busy being concerned with getting likes and attention, so I posted and shared my adventures on social media instead. When did social media become all about self-glorification? It’s basically a platform for everyone to be a narcissist and to brag about how awesome their lives are. “Look at what I’m doing. Look at what I’m wearing. Look at where I am. Look at what I bought.”

Since when did I care so much about what people think of me? I would be lying if I said that’s not what I used Facebook or Instagram for too, but then it occurred to me yesterday when chatting with a new friend that maybe I share too much with people and don’t give them enough questions to ask to genuinely socialize with me. I make it too easy. I don’t entice them enough for them to pursue me because they’ve been trained to know that I’ll tell them everything whether they ask me to or not.

Admittedly, I loved posting about all my new awesome experiences, sharing the places I went to, tagging all my new friends in pictures. I made sure that EVERYONE could see how much fun I was having because secretly, in the back of my mind, I hoped that a certain someone from my past would spy on me. I wished that he especially would see how much fun I was having without him in my life when all I really wanted was for him to talk to me again. Pathetic. Why on earth would he ever want to talk to me again when he was the one that dropped me off the face of the earth without warning?

Just because you give someone the world or because you’d do anything for them doesn’t mean that you should or that you deserve someone. And so ironically, in Alaska, on September 9th, 2017, I came full circle with my dilemma and got to know someone who was on the opposite end of the problem.

They say in Talkeetna it’s possible to have a crush on someone for 20 minutes before you decide to move onto someone else, but I wonder if you can have lingering feelings too.

On September 8th, 2017, it was a beautiful autumn day. The yellowing of the leaves was just barely noticeable and there was still some sunshine left. I sat there eating a Caesar Salad Wrap next to my friend Marija when I noticed a familiar stranger walking around shirtless about 50 feet away. He had long, curly locks of hair and his lack of shirt was made up for by his abs. I looked over at Marija and whispered “I really wish that guy would come over and talk to me.”

The universe or karma or quite possibly even the mystery man himself must have heard me because in just a moment, the shirtless Jesus with abs was walking in my direction and offering me a pink flower. “Would you two lovely ladies like a flower?”

Absolutely.

I was in awe that this man was so bold. It seemed like something only I would do, but then he put his shirt back on and hopped onto his ATV with not a word more and rode off into the sunset like some sort of Alaskan Fabio. It was all so dramatic. The thrill and the spontaneity of it all had me reeling, and I  was determined to find out who the heck that guy was.

I took to the Talkeetna Trader, the community Facebook page where people posted lost items or things they’d like to sell. That was a huge mistake. I posted that I was in search of “The Jesus with Abs who gave me a flower in the park” and instantly 50 people knew exactly who he was because it was such a small town. I was already turned off because there was no mystery to solve anymore, but then made matters worse when I ran into him at the Fairview the following night while he was playing foosball.

“Hey! Kiana! I am so flattered that you posted that about me. I never thought of myself as a ‘Jesus with Abs’ before. That is seriously the best compliment anyone has ever given me!” He said as I failed to pass him.

“Oh. Haha. Yeah, well I guess you just made a huge impression on me yesterday. A random guy has never given me a flower before, so I was pretty disappointed to not get your name. Nice to meet you officially” I said sheepishly.

He wanted to buy me a beer, but I said no. Wow I was such a disappointment. All that hype for an “I think I’ll pass.”

It didn’t take long for me to notice someone else staring at me from across the room. A broad-shouldered man with curly brown hair caught my eye. He was standing alone next to the bar, and I could see that he was looking my way. I needed to get away from Jesus, so that was the perfect excuse to inch my way closer to this new guy.

At the time, my friend Marija was at the bar buying me a Sprite because I said I wasn’t going to drink anything that night. I was already high, so I didn’t think that was the greatest next move, but then Shoulders with the Smoldering Green Eyes was glancing my way and said “Anything you want is on me. It’s my birthday.”

“Okay. I’ll have an Alaskan Summer.”

I shook his hand. Firm grasp, and he still kept eye-contact. He had beautiful eyes. Shoulders had a name, but I won’t share it because I don’t think he would want me to. Shoulders wanted to go outside and talk because there were too many people, so we disappeared and Marija was left wondering where the heck I was for probably the third time that night. Sorry Marija, I’m hard to keep track of with everybody, not just you. I’m easily taken by opportunities for adventure and especially by hot guys with beautiful eyes. My tragic flaw.

When we were outside, I offered Shoulders some weed to smoke. I just got extremely high with a stranger from the Fairview probably 10 minutes before this, was drinking a beer now, and was going to get more stoned. I guess that’s why I don’t remember that much of our conversation, but what I won’t forget is that he told me I was the first person he’d genuinely talked to in months, even though he was traveling with his girlfriend for 3 years.

“Yeah I’m glad that I managed to even go out for my birthday. This might be the third time I’ve been out in probably 3 months” He said.

I could hardly imagine not talking to anyone for that long. I’m someone that buys an extra large pizza by myself just so I have a reason to talk to strangers and share my pizza with them. I used to be so antisocial in high school, so I’ve forced myself to become an extrovert ever since then.

Shoulders had some things deeply troubling him. He told me all about them and I feel like it would be wrong to share them even on this blog where nobody would ever find it. He told me those things in confidence though, so I’m not sharing even with my future self. We talked for over 6 hours that night, surpassed the last call at the bar, and he drove me to my house. I wanted his only night in Talkeetna to last as long as possible, so I took him on a self-guided tour of the Lodge that I worked at and then when we came outside again, the northern lights were just barely visible beneath the clouds.

I later brought him inside my house to meet my roommates that were all still awake at 3 AM. I could see Tedi’s winking smirks at me as I brought a handsome stranger into the house. I could tell that he was on edge and out of his comfort zone being around this many new people with all eyes on him. We smoked just a tad more and he impressed me with his smoke rings. It was nearing 4 AM and Shoulders had to be on his way. Not even thinking twice about it, I gave him a hug and forgot to ask for any of his information. All I had was his name.

That night I bonded with someone who left his girlfriend without warning. I understood every reason why he was afraid, but more importantly, I understood why someone did the same thing to me exactly a year ago. For months I was in pain, but this was just another one of those instances screaming at me to let go, forgive, and move on. Part of my forgiveness was letting this stranger into my home and talking to him for 6 hours.

I thought I might never see or hear from Shoulders again. I found him on Facebook, sent him a message and gave him my phone number, and two days ago he sent me a text message. I said he was welcome to talk to me anytime he needed a friend, and because he is so private and shy, I appreciate any words he says to me.

It feels oddly familiar waiting by the phone anticipating my next message. It feels like I have a new crush. Of course I do. He isn’t available. But more importantly, I feel like this new crush has given me hope because I no longer feel the need to cyberstalk someone who left a long time ago. Now I can cyberstalk someone who really has zero information about himself available online and only about 2 pictures for me to drool over. It’s great because I have to actually get to know him by asking questions and having conversations instead of idolizing him in his absence. It inspired me to do the same by untagging and deleting a lot of pictures of myself on social media, making my own profiles more private than public. Making social media more SOCIAL instead of all about myself.

I’ve avoided a lot of things like getting rid of reminders of the past and moving forward. But now I’m finally making real progress.

[afoggedupmind]

How Was I Unaware this Whole Time?

I guess for the longest time, I’ve never known what confidence actually feels like. I think confidence is probably one of the most valuable skills you can have, because what is confidence? It’s strength. It’s the attitude that you believe in yourself, and for anyone to ever believe in you, you have to believe first.

But for some reason, I thought it was backwards. I think that a basic human need is to have attention. It’s the world’s most valuable currency. We crave it from birth til death. But there is a such thing as too much attention and that can be toxic.

I felt like my parents never paid attention to me when i was young. They didn’t have the egos to play with me. They told me, “No. Play with your toys.” Until my toys became annoying and then it was “No. Play outside.” And they got rid of my toys.

Anything I liked was annoying or an inconvenience. I felt neglect, but it taught me to entertain myself. I could talk in different accents with ease because I was different characters and personas in one body. I’m adventure kiana, I’m crafty kiana, actor kiana, popstar kiana, therapist kiana, party kiana, and fearless kiana. Model kiana, flight attendent kiana, server kiana? Which one would you like because I’ll give my best performance each time. I can be anything. I can do anything. The power of knowing is all that you need.

Right now I’m the Kiana who takes risks and does everything she can to travel and be a great friend. I’m fiercely independent and I’m not afraid to be who I am, but I’m still always there for a true friend if they need me if I’m miles and miles away.

[afoggedupmind]

October. Friday the 13th, We’ve come full circle, now haven’t we?

I think it was about now that I’d given up hope on my first Omeglecrush, Kiowa from England. this was the moment I knew and had the aha moment of “Finally. It’s over.” 

Now, I’ve smoked quite a lot. I think maybe 5 bowl hits already. this is just the second round. (Listening to Darkness Turns to Light by White Poppy) I didn’t even realize it was Friday the 13th in the Spooky month until after I cleaned Dad’s office and asked myself “Hey, why the fuck am I doing this?” 

I’ve had a revelation today, and that’s that yes, I can really do anything I put my mind to, but my focus shifts from time to time. 

And then on top of that, thanks for giving me the strength to finally burn those damned paintings, Margarita. I don’t know what inspired me, but I guess it was just time. 

First I had no freaking idea that I was so awesome before

I had no idea that basically anything i ever want to do, if i want it, it happens

i am unbelievably creative. and loving. and good.

i really underestimated my own potential. 

And Shane, the reason why i like him so much is that intensity we shared. that was magic. and i keep expecting him to run away because of someone else who i felt intense with. that’s what i’ve been craving for so long. and now i may as well have it, but i’m being cautious because of the past. still going forward. much further today. 

What I had with intensity in the past was built on lies, but with Shane he was undeniably honest from the get-go, even telling me the truth about what he was doing in the moment, no matter how guilty it made him feel. But the difference is, he knew he was doing something he wasn’t proud of, and ended up preventing himself from carrying out the action. 

More important than anything, I need to go back doing art. what the fuck am i waiting for ? a muse? I’ve got one. Myself. Because I’m the most inspiring person I know right now. 

Honestly, I didn’t realize that it was rare to be this way until I couldn’t really find anyone at all to relate to, so I hid behind drawing. and it became something I loved on accident. How was I supposed to know that other kids were not as good or as dedicated because I didn’t socialize? How did I know that hardly anyone actually gives 100% effort in anything? How do you pass that?

I’ve been undercutting myself for so long because I’ve always compared myself to a higher standard, my own potential. and the moment I wasn’t being challenged anymore, my passions shifted to something must more complicated. Love. 

I focused always on building him up. Cherishing him. Wondering if this time was enough to actually keep his attention and if not, how would I pass the next test? Would he talk to me the next day, or did I scare him and need to apologize?

How would he ever find someone so rare?

How did he even believe he deserved me when he was so far off of the target? A rotten soul, full of himself, but full of resentment. Completely lacking in confidence. I deserve a whole person. Not this when I am so full of life and love. 

What a gift it is and what a talent it is to believe in yourself. But thank god others believe in me more than myself and I have a basket of hands to fall back on if I fall. 

I am creative. I am whole. I am multitalented. I am determined to be great at anything and everything. I will get the recognition I deserve tenfold. The time for me is greater than ever. 

Let’s do this.

Make art. Make progress. You’ve come a long way girl. You put your past up in flames. You did it, now rise from the smoke. 

[afoggedupmind]

Initiate the Facebook Drought

Yesterday I spent an entire morning and afternoon just on facebook. Not only on facebook, but stalking on facebook and saying regrettable things. I thought the only solution would probably be to deactivate my account for at least a month, and we’ll see how long that lasts. 

Facebook is my cringy addiction. It distracts me from doing anything else no matter how worthless the information is on there. I mainly just used it for finding out things about people that I would have to find out by talking to them, but instead I just automatically would know from exploring their profile. Isn’t that a little bit antisocial?   It seems to almost be the opposite of social media since it doesn’t really require any effort to get to know someone. 

What I do enjoy about facebook however is that I can post pictures and document memories. I’m all about documenting everything I do, and especially everything I do with my boyfriend, but I feel like I can do that in such a way that doesn’t involve sharing all our experiences with the world. Perhaps some things should be just kept to ourselves for our own remembering, that way we don’t get the outside judgement from people who aren’t in our relationship but certainly feel like they are. 

As far as keeping in touch with friends, I do have some friends that are solely online, but I’m not going to lose them forever. There are various ways of alternative communication such as this prehistoric tool called email. Heck, I’ll even send them real mail. It’s been a while since I’ve sent any snail mail, so during this Facebook drought, maybe I’ll pick up a pen and paper and send out a few letters. Those who actually do care about me will find me in other ways or they have my phone number already. 

Plus, if I ever posted anything like this on facebook, I know a lot of people would be rolling their eyes in disagreement since everyone thinks their opinions are so valued there. Even if they were, someone would call them out for even having an opinion at all. At least here, I know nobody is going to read this except me and a few random people, but most likely everyone is looking to reblog fashion gifs. Nobody reads blogs anymore. Most reading online consists of clickbait and Huffington Post articles. Here, I’m not writing for the enjoyment of others. I’m writing for myself. 

[afoggedupmind]

I’ve decided to become a vampire

Aside from the obvious reasons, I feel like I accomplish so much more when I am awake for hours upon hours. The hours between midnight and 4 am are where my creative juices thrive. As I’m sitting here typing this, I am procrastinating on a project, but I needed to get myself warmed up. 

My boyfriend is asleep next to me. I feel like I am having such an Edward Cullen moment as I watch him sleep. He looks so peaceful as he’s at rest now, but moments ago I was a bit worried. He has this weird thing he always does where he breathes in through the nose and purses his lips to let out puffs of breath in exhalation. He also snores and I have to wake him up so he sleeps on his side. I don’t know how or why he does it, but he frequently puts up at least one knee in the air as he sleeps. His sleeping patterns are very odd. I needed to do some research.

Apparently sleeping and puffing is connected to sleep apnea which can be caused by a variety of factors mostly linked to the body’s airways. I fear that his habits of frequent smoking have caused this. I’m contemplating whether or not I should hide his cigarrettes tomorrow. Would that be so unjust?

I thought that the snoring was only a side-effect of him drinking alcohol before bed, but I’ve noticed the snoring even in the absence of alcohol. As I’m watching him now, he also has his arms stretched above his head. I wonder if this makes his back more comfortable in this position. He tends to sleep with two thick pillows which make his neck bend at an upward angle. Is that healthy? Am I just being a hypochondriac? 

My boyfriend’s health is strange. His body almost seems impervious to substance abuse or any substance at all including food. He either sweats out or poops out everything he puts in. I wish my body had that level of efficiency, but instead I’ll eat a whole box of cookies and be bloated for three days. 

He has many scars along his arms and garnishing his hands. He works hard. His hands are always tarnished with oil or dirt no matter how hard he scrubs them. One of his scars glistens in the light. It’s one he earned from molten metal giving him a third-degree burn that just melted the skin right off. I hope that he’ll be okay if he chooses to do this line of work for a long time. 

He worries about what he is doing to his body at times. He wonders how well he’ll be able to function in his forties. At the same time though, he smokes often and has a hard time breaking habits. Whenever he says he is set on quitting, it just takes a whiff of a friend’s cigarrette to send him spiraling again. I want to believe that he has it in him to quit, but it’s almost like my desire for him to quit and his fear of disappointing me makes him want to smoke more. He’ll just buy more cigarrettes if I throw his away. I know. He’s done it before. 

There needs to be some more incentive for him. He doesn’t like the company he’s working for now, so he’s decided to give up weed for a while so he can find a new job. Maybe he needs to just quit one thing at a time. I’d rather him quit cigarrettes though. I at least enjoy weed and all it has to offer with its benefits of relaxation and healing properties. What can cigarrettes do to benefit a person in any way? 

I recently stumbled upon a travel blog that listed strategies to saving money for a trip. It suggested giving up cigarettes, alcohol, switching light-bulbs, carpooling, not eating at restaurants, not going to the movies, making your own fun, and a variety of other things. We’ve been talking about traveling outside of the country, so perhaps that would be a good incentive to save money. 

He’s grinding his teeth now. He’s back to the weird puffing and popping of the lips again. Maybe he has some sort of oral fixation which has him addicted to cigarrettes. What can I do to help ease that or replace that? What can I do to help that isn’t going to make us fight? I’m tired of having these talks. I want him to live the way he wants to live, but more importantly I want him to live. I can’t bare the thought of him dying young or from cancer. God. I just wish he cared about himself as much as I care. 

He’s concerned about his health, but at the same time, he knows that he’s killing himself and is fine with it. 

God. This was supposed to be a brief entry. I think I’ve already spent 30 minutes on it. That’s time I could spend bullshitting on my schoolwork. 

[afoggedupmind]

Working in the restaurant industry has me learning more about life than I ever would have expected. You find so many different people of all walks of life. The people I work with are all in different stages. Some are there for a career, some are saving money for a wedding or a baby they’re expecting, some people are just tying to stay out of trouble, while others don’t really have any clue what they want to do in life and are still trying to figure that out in their late 40′s and 50′s. 

I’m just 21. I’m the youngest server at my work. I feel like I have to go out of my comfort zone to please people and keep a smile on my face even when someone I’m serving doesn’t acknowledge my humanity. It’s almost like being a slave except we get paid way better. I’m thankful for my job. I’m glad I have one that allows me to pay rent and other bills and live with my boyfriend while still being able to afford a patio garden and have a steady hobby in vegan baking. But still, sometimes I wonder if it’s worth being treated so poorly by customers. Am I sacrificing too much of my own happiness to be there?

Sometimes I think customers are awful people to the core, but then I’ll hear from other servers that those same customers I just interacted with were some of the nicest people they’ve waited on. There was an old man the other day who came in when the manager was off work. When I asked him if he’d ever dined with us before, he replied “Of course I have. How do you not recognize me by now? I’d tell you I’m having my usual, but I guess I have to teach you what that is.”

He told me that he wanted the bagel breakfast which contains cream cheese, lox, capers, red onions, and sliced tomatoes, but instead of having it served the way it usually is (a separate plate for the bagel and all the fixings), he said he wanted it all put together. That wasn’t really a problem until I brought him his food and had everything put together except for the disgusting capers which I carried to him in a ramekin since the chef even assumed he probably wouldn’t want them. Nobody ever likes capers. 

“What is this? This is exactly what I didn’t want. Why did you bring me the capers in a separate container?” -old dude

“The chef told me to bring it out this way. He said the capers would roll off if we put them on the bagel.” -me

“Well, I won’t have this. Make me a new one. Put the cream cheese on the bagel, then the capers, then the lox, the tomato, and the onion last. Got it?”

Holy fuck. Did this guy’s mom do everything for him as a child? Put on the damn capers yourself, bitch. 

“Oh, I’m very sorry about that sir. I’ll have them make it exactly how you wanted!” (Fake smile)

Anyway, this same old man that was such a sourpuss is the one that my new manager claimed to be his “new old pal” because the old man wanted to learn guitar and my new manager apparently was  going to tune his guitar for him next time he came to the restaurant. So maybe he is a nice old man, but I caught him on a rough day. 

It’s hard to decipher if people’s true selves are when they act the meanest or if it’s when they act the nicest. 

I’m really glad that I am a young server because I definitely don’t want to do this for the rest of my life. God. Hospitality sucks. 

[afoggedupmind]

2:14 PM (Amelie’s French Bakery) Drinking a grapefruit-mint and tarragon soda overlooking the downstairs lobby.

Last night I smoked weed. I don’t do this too often because of the visual hallucinations weed gives me. It doesn’t matter how many “bad trips” I’ve had though. I keep coming back to “try again” because I have had an equal number of good and bad times while getting stoned. 

Something I wonder about though is if weed is opening up my mind or frying my brain. Sometimes I feel like I have a much clearer understanding of things and I find things a lot more fascinating, but other times it’s sensory overload and I overanalyze everything I see because everything looks weird or animated like a cartoon. 

I’ve lost my motor functions while stoned about 3 times. All other times I had moderate visual hallucinations and heard weird voices, saw auras, or experienced deja vu. 

The first bad time on weed was on 4/20/14 (so cliche) when I first hit my boyfriend’s bong about 2 years ago. I felt high instantly. I always know I’m going to be extremely high when the bong hits my throat harshly and I’m coughing for a long time. I don’t smoke cigarettes ever, and weed is a special occasion for me. 

This time, I was laughing and kept falling into these mind loops when having a conversation with my boyfriend. Then our friend decided to play music in the guest bedroom. He played really dark, gloomy tunes on his bass guitar that sent me reeling with hallucinations. I saw things moving in the wallpaper. Really gruesome looking monsters appeared through black smoke and flames. I was so stuck in my head, I started crying because I didn’t know what was going on. Then my boyfriend laid me down on the couch in the living room and tried to calm me down. I couldn’t speak. I forgot how. 

I took a two hour nap to mellow out before my boyfriend even dared driving me home in a psychotic state. I remember him being so worried and frightened for me. I think he even cried. I was so void of motor-functions and speech and trapped in my own mind, I couldn’t even tell him I was going to be okay. When I woke in the morning I was fine. I didn’t smoke weed for a long time after that. It must have been about 6 months to a year. 

The second time I got stoned and lost my mind was around summer of 2015. At least I think it was. I may be lying because I don’t actually remember when this was that clearly. It was at my friends’ apartment and they had about 8 people over. I think the times I usually go manic are when there are many people around. These friends knew that I didn’t smoke weed regularly. In fact, it was a shock to them any time I actually said yes when they passed the bowl around. I remember having a strong desire to smoke weed that day, but my boyfriend wasn’t smoking weed during that time, so I couldn’t. 

I went out onto the balcony where everyone was to smoke a bowl. I didn’t remember how. I always need to be coached on how to smoke. Instantly after I inhaled, I was coughing more than I ever have in my life. I felt the high hit me as soon as I walked inside and got some water. I then sank into the couch and watched my surroundings turn into an array of odd shapes and angles. The dog transformed into a slinky, people were played by different actors, and I couldn’t believe anything that was going on. I saw multiples of the people there and couldn’t match their faces. My boyfriend kept changing too. 

I think every time I smoke too much and drink water afterward, I puke. This happened to me within 20 minutes of just weird hallucinations. I often see the room spinning and can’t balance.  

I ended that night puking in the bathroom and pointing to a frog that seemed to be trapped on the other side of the mirror. It wasn’t real of course. 

My most recent escapade with weed was last night. My boyfriend offered me a hit from his bong before we were supposed to see Deadpool at the movies. He said it was a funny movie, but might be funnier if we were stoned. I thought at this point since I had been smoking weed more regularly, that maybe I would have built up at least a little bit of a tolerance. No sir. . .

This strain of weed in particular was referred to as “Girl Scout Cookies” and was apparently really strong. Then I took a second bong hit after the first one didn’t seem to affect me too much. I should have waited. 

This weed seemed to make the room staticky and appear as a grungy 90′s cartoon. It may have just been my surroundings though. We were in the bedroom of our apartment and I had just decorated the wall with nearly all of my sketches and artwork along with personal polaroids of us. As I was analyzing the walls, I noticed that I liked to do lots of portraits of people all facing the left, except interestingly, I always depicted portraits of my boyfriend facing center. My boyfriend said that this was because the left side of the face has been scientifically proven to be more expressive, so many people do portraits facing this direction. I think he faces the center because I like his entire face and body rather than choosing parts. 

I was standing up at first, then soon I needed to grab a hold of my boyfriend because I was getting wobbly. I kept saying I was fine, but I knew that was a lie. There wasn’t any music playing, so the city ambience from outside poured into the room and seemed extremely loud to me. It was the filler music. As I grabbed hold of my boyfriend, I got really horny. I started kissing him rapidly and aggressively. I felt his bulge and it made me go wild. Manic. 

Then I attempted to pull him onto the bed and he was into it at first, but he realized something was off about me, so he didn’t wish to continue since he feared he would be taking advantage of my primal state. I can’t even imagine how awful sex would have been at the moment for me considering what followed.

My boyfriend brought me a glass of water because I was breathing heavily. He told me everything in my head was imagined. I thought he meant he was too, so I got sad. I felt nauseous, then vomited in my mouth and ran to the toilet to puke out the rest. I could feel the acid from my stomach burning on my face and eyes. Then I heard my boyfriend gag at the sight and smell of my vomit. I feared he would puke on my head as he stood over me, but thank god he was strong enough not to.  At least I managed to make it to the toilet and not all over our bed. 

He managed to get me back into the room and tuck me into bed. That always seems to be the best remedy for me to get mellowed out. 

The following morning, or this morning I should say, I woke at about 3 am to do my homework for my 8 am class. I apologized to my boyfriend for being too high, but he took the blame and said he should have known better about offering me a second bong hit. I’ll probably smoke weed again another time. But I’ll need to be careful and not push past my limit again. 

It’s intriguing to me that it has a different effect each time. 

[afoggedupmind]

Train rides and “Trying”

A dream of mind has always been to board a train to an unknown destination, preferably somewhere far away so I can just ride the train for as long as possible. I rode on a train once before. I took a train leaving at midnight that arrived to my destination at 3 am to visit a friend of mine. It was an interesting experience since it was my first train ride and it left at an hour that was so ungodly for most, but perfect for me. I feel like I’m my most productive and awake between 2am and 5am. Those are the hours which I feel most inspired for some reason, and I bet this is the timeframe which I have my most wild dreams at night if I actually am asleep. I’m a born insomniac, so I really don’t sleep much in my daily life. 

I work at a brunch restaurant which requires me to wake up at 4 am to arrive at work at 6 am in a timely manner if I want to be energized when I arrive. I normally don’t sleep til 11 pm. So that leaves me with about 4 hours of sleep a night as long as I don’t go out anywhere, but if I don’t go out anywhere, then I risk losing out on a social life and keeping up with friends and family. Sadly, I don’t mind too much sometimes. 

I don’t know why I think I have such a “hard life.” It’s not hard compared to most. I think I just make everything more difficult myself by the way I handle situations. My days don’t differ too much. Mostly they consist of working either at 6 am-2pm or 8pm-4pm, running errands like grocery shopping or retail therapy, cooking, gardening, laundry, occasionally painting a picture or baking something sweet to satiate my cravings. Then sometimes I go to school, but most of the time my class is cancelled or I feel too stressed out to attend class. I only have one class that I have to attend in person, and the other one I have online.  I don’t pay rent (yet), but I probably spend just as much if not more on food and furniture. 

Maybe I’m unhappy because I refuse to become responsible, but it is inevitable for me to become an adult. I’m in that awkward transition period between irresponsible teen making stupid decisions and put-together adult. I’m trying, but I’m failing because there is no such thing as “trying.” You do things or you don’t do anything. Lately my go-to excuse for failure is “I tried,” but I know that I probably didn’t try at all and the better excuse is “I lied” (to myself). 

I know that the truth is, I CAN do anything, but I only limit myself by telling myself to give up. It’s easier to quit short-term, but in the long-run, I’m hurting myself more. If I keep going, it’s easier to go along for the ride. Think of a train and how hard it is to stop. How much easier is it for a train to keep going? How difficult is it to start a train back up again after it stopped? Right now I’m the stopped train, but I’m adding fuel to my engine to get started again. Be the fucking train. There’s a set path for me to follow, but I have to be the one to start the engine. 

My life is easy.

I barely go to school.

I live with my boyfriend who loves me for some reason. 

I have a job that pays me anywhere from $70-$180 a day depending on how busy the restaurant is. 

I am healthy and have no children. 

I go on “adventures” whenever I feel like it’s time to escape whether it be down the street or across 3 states. 

Right now, I’m trying to escape adulthood and stay young and stupid forever. I’m succeeding in the stupid part, but I can’t stay young forever. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad change to become older and wiser.

 I JUST NEED TO STAY ON TRACK AND QUIT STOPPING THE TRAIN. 

[afoggedupmind]

Hello.

Hello, I’m fog.

I am good at getting lost, but I wanted to create a space for myself where I would be able to recollect my thoughts. I don’t plan on this blog becoming popular or anything, but if you stumble upon it, you may as well take a gander. 

I have trouble committing to one center for writing. I have so many journals in my room that are incomplete and often begin with “Hello again, I haven’t written for a while.” Maybe I’ll finish them one day if I don’t rip out the embarrassing pages first, or maybe I should keep them. 

Is it worth it to hold onto embarrassing memories of yourself at your weakest moments? Do we still have the opportunity to grow if we don’t remember our mistakes? Or is moving forward in your life only possible if you forget where you were before?