Confessions of an American Nobody

Confessions, thoughts, ramblings... They're all here.

[books-n-quotes]

Sometimes life is a series of obstacles, a matter of putting one foot in front of the other. Sometimes, it is simply a matter of blind faith.

Jojo Moyes, The Girl You Left Behind (via books-n-quotes)

[writerofrejectedthoughts]

It’s Only June...

In video games, when an NPC tells the Player Character that they owe the Player their life, we - as the Player - tend to feel a sense of gratification or entitlement. You know, somewhere along the lines of “Happy to help” and “Yeah, you’d better thank me. I just saved your sorry ass.”

But in real life, it’s different.

I naively thought that were someone to say those words to me in real life, I’d feel that same sense of gratification, or at least relief.

But... I don’t. At least, not in the way I’d imagined.

It’s June. We are halfway through 2018 and three people have told me what I did for them.

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Thank you for stopping me. Thank you for keeping me from doing something reckless.”

“I couldn’t. I saw your note there and I couldn’t.”

From merely being in the space with someone, to physically stopping someone, to simply leaving a note...

A dear friend. An old friend. And someone I have feelings for. All three of these people have told me what I did for them - that I stopped them.

But I don’t feel any gratification. I don’t feel entitled to their thanks. Nor do I feel relief - not in the “I’m glad that I saved them” sense, anyway.

All I feel is heartbreak.

My heart hurts for them.

Not because they wanted to end their lives, but because I was them. Who am I to go around stopping suicides when I couldn’t even stop my own? The only reason I’m still here is because of a cat. That big, old, black cat is the only reason I didn’t stop breathing seven years ago.

But who am I? Who the fuck am I to tell these people what not to do? I owe my life to a cat, after all, and he’s not even around anymore.

I never want to hear another phrase like that again. Am I glad those people are still with us? Absolutely. Am I glad they were helped? Of course I am. But they shouldn’t have needed help. No one should be abused like that. No one should have to fight themselves so hard. No one should be used and made out to be pathetic. 

No one should have to feel so horribly all the time.

It’s only June and three people have told me what I’ve done for them. That’s one contemplation and two attempts too many.

It’s only June and I nearly lost three good friends.

It’s only June and the world nearly lost three wonderful souls.

It’s only June... And I’m scared for more than just those three.

[writerofrejectedthoughts]

Stories...

Stories, it seems, have a particular passion for telling themselves. As people, we like to believe that we are the ones who tell the story when - in all reality - the stories tend to tell us. After all, isn’t that how we’ll be remembered? The stories we leave behind, the stories we craft, those crafted about us, those other people will tell after we’re gone. They will forever define us.

As characters in those seemingly limitless stories, it’s our job to make ourselves memorable. We must make the stories want to be about us; to want to be the telling of our endeavors. 

Stories can be about anyone. The question you must ask yourself; are you worthy yours?

If you said no, become worthy. Do something worth remembering. It doesn’t have to be something grand and intricate. Do something you love. Make the stories told about you focus on your intellect, your passion, your sense of humor, your kindness, your courage, your cunning, your work ethic, your flawless character, your incredible ability to always be there for someone in need.

Stories can be about anyone. Be worthy of your own story. And make it want to be beacon of who you want to be.

[writerofrejectedthoughts]

I Can’t F*cking Please You People

All through college I worked my butt off. I didn't have a job, but I was focused on my studies. I never did near as well as I wanted, and eventually lost interest because I wasn't learning anything new. Instead of offering me a new challenge or ways to find interest in paying $100 a day for repetitive classes, you scolded me for being lazy.

So I turned my attention to my sorority. I was going to be the best member I could possibly be. I devoted my time to helping with everything and taking roles I knew I'd be good at. And I thought I was doing well. But you proved me wrong. Instead of telling me what I needed to do to be better (or telling me I was doing poorly in the first place), you began to shoot down all of my ideas, ignored my direction after putting me in a leadership position. You shunned me for moving out of my comfort zone and putting myself out there.

So I stopped. I stopped everything. I moved back home, took minimal classes at a school I loathed and fell back into the depression I'd tried so hard to escape from. I considered dropping out of school and heading straight into the workforce – you don't need a degree to clean hotel rooms, after all, and a local hotel was hiring. And what did you do? You wrinkled your nose up. Told me I'd never amount to anything. Degraded me for wanting to take a different path. You called me ignorant and selfish.

So I started making costumes. Taking road trips with my friends and showing off my sewing skills at conventions – even going so far as to win awards. I threw myself into that, too. Whenever I wasn't in class, I was at the sewing machine making something I loved out of nothing. But instead of being happy for me, or – at the very least – going along with it, you scolded me. Told me that this was a complete waste of time and money. You belittled me and said it would never amount to anything.

So I started voice acting. And I felt my whole world change. Never before had I felt so passionate about something. Never before had I seen so many open doors just from sitting behind a microphone. I dove in head-first. Funded my own equipment, actively sought out lessons, attended every event I could, read every scrap of advice I could get my hands on. I wanted to do this and I wanted to be the best. And what did you tell me? “Why can't you focus on your studies?” “Settle down, become an English teacher.” “You're never going to make it.”

So. Here I am.

A private costumer, supplying costumes to local theatres.

An assistant director, helping out theatre directors and giving acting lessons.

A script editor, filling plot holes and fixing stupid grammatical mistakes.

A voice talent, lending my voice to various projects and a professional table reads company.

I'm giving my all to every one of these jobs, and you want me to “settle down, become an English teacher.”

I'm giving my all to every one of these jobs, and even still you reprimand me. Because now I “work too much”. Because now you “never see me”. Because now I don't have any free time. Because now I'm always tired. Because now I'm proving you wrong.

I can't please you people. Because no matter what I do, it's not what you want of me. And you know what? That's fine.

I don't have a spouse, I don't have a kid, I don't have anyone whose lives are dependent on me. Well, there's the cat, but she's always got food, clean water, and a comfy place to sleep so I really don't think she cares all that much.

So scold me. Call me lazy. Shoot me down. Ignore me. Shun me. Wrinkle your nose. Degrade me. Call me ignorant. Belittle me. Tell me I won't amount to anything. Tell me I work too much.

Go ahead.

Because even still, I'll thank you for it. Why? Because you've taught me something.

Out of all the jobs I do, it's not my job to please you.

[dusty-purple]

I just love the myth of Persephone, i mean the real, original version of it, because it’s not like she got kidnapped, no, this bitch was la-de-da-ing in a meadow and she just happened to find an entrance to the Underworld and she was like “Imma check this out”. And she just wanders into the Underworld and discovers that hey this place ain’t too bad.

Meanwhile Hades is in the background “????? UM??? PRETTY GIRL??? WHY ARE YOU HERE?????? YOU AREN’T DEAD???” 

And Persephone (who was originally called Kore just a little fyi) just looked at him and said “I like it here. I’m staying.”

And Hades kinda just went with it, until Demeter started throwing the temper tantrum of the millenium upstairs and Zeus had to intervene because this shit was getting out of hand and its actually his job to be admistrator of justice. Which considering the shit he gets up to is kinda histerical but that’s another story there. 

And basically Persephone wasn’t a prisoner or kidnap victim at all she just really loved the Underworld and her (eventual) husband, and the Greeks feared her arguably more than her husband because Hades could be reasoned with but Persephone was the one laying the smack down on sinners, and really, who wouldn’t be at least a little scared of someone who’s name means something along the lines of “the destroyer”

Basically, Persephone is amazing and everbody needs to get on her level

[the-lucky-ferret]

i think the best part of that myth is that Zeus decided to change Kore’s name to Persephone (basically “the one who brings chaos”) only because she wanted to stay in the underworld and SHE WOULDN’T FUCKING LISTEN then Zeus, all-mighty king of the gods, kinda gives up and goes “fine, but you’re going to visit your mom” “also, I changed your name” “get rekt”

[achillvs]

Also, if I’m not mistaken, Kore means “little girl” so imagine going from that to “chaos bringer”

[parziivillains]

I mean, going from little girl to chaos bringer sounds like a p solid deal to me, sign me up.

[thealienonbroadway]

This may not be the version of the myth that’s commonly known and taught. But is is the original, from before it was altered to scare Greek/Roman girls into submission. Persephone was a badass bitch.

[halfbeforehalfway]

@spiritspodcast

[mirrorworld12]

What if I tell you

I am not just sad

Breathing hurts me

more than anything

My soul feel homeless

and cries for home

A home that this body can never be

so my soul tries to hide in the corners

of my own body that don’t even exist

It looks in the eyes of the

strangers and travel in and out

just to find the home

And I don’t know what hurts me more

Not having a home in my own body

or may be not finding the one in others.

mirror

19/2/18

[books-n-quotes]

Here is the riddle of love: Everything it gives to you, it takes away.

Alice Hoffman, The Dovekeepers (via books-n-quotes)

[writerofrejectedthoughts]

Four Years Ago...

I bought a pair of patent leather heels from JC Penny’s and transformed them into 1950′s themed pink pumps for what would be my first Rose Tyler costume. Four years ago I said, “Screw society and its bland expectations.”

No longer did I want to be a college student. No longer did I want to be one of the millions of students working my ass off for a positively useless degree. No longer did I give a damn if I filled the expectations my world had set for me.

Now, four years later, as I see pictures and videos of my high school classmates and sorority sisters graduating from their respective colleges, I feel strange. The term “bittersweet” comes to mind, as I’m sad that I will likely never share that achievement, but I’m happy as well.

Happy that I will not be like them. Happy that I will never be stuck in a cubicle office job. Happy that I may never know the sorrow and frustration of never finding a job in my degree field. Happy that I will likely never feel the frustration of being stuck working under someone less qualified than me, or more ignorant than me. Happy that I may never “work” a day in my life.

Four years ago I made a pair of shoes. as of today I have designed over forty individual costumes ranging from a wannabe Rose Tyler, to 1940′s USO Showgirls, to the iconic red coat of Broadway’s Mary Poppins. Designed costumes for three musicals and two straight shows. Started my own private costuming company. And I couldn’t be any more in love with what I do.

Some people were made to graduate college, cure cancer, train horses, heal patients, defend the defenseless, code supercomputers...

Me? I was born to make costumes.

And that’s fine by me.

[writerofrejectedthoughts]

Who She Aspired to Be

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become someone I honestly never believed I would be. I’ve always admired those people who started at the very bottom and worked hard only to find themselves standing on top of the world. But as much as I hoped, I never saw myself becoming that kind of person.

I imagined myself going through college and working in some random job, marrying, and starting a family. The environment I grew up in led me to believe that that was the true “American Dream”. But college showed me otherwise.

No longer was I going to be content with being the wife of some random man on a teacher’s salary. No longer did I believe I was required to be the mother of three. I was going to move to New York. I was going to live in an expensive apartment and be the best up-and-coming editor the city had ever seen. I was going to marry some wealthy author and build my own house somewhere upstate. I was going to become a stay-at-home author and retire somewhere in Scotland. But life out of college showed me otherwise.

I’m twenty-three years old and I couldn’t be more excited about where I am right now. Things aren’t moving quite as fast as I’d like, but I’ve worked hard to get here and I have a lot to be thankful for. That little girl cooped up in her childhood home would cry tears of joy if she could see how far she’ll go.

It’s tough most days. I pour my heart and soul into everything I do and I don’t stop until I can do no more. And it’s hard when you don’t see that same devotion in your co-workers and students. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to wring their necks when they talk about how passionate they are about their job with no accolades or work ethic to show it...

But she would be happy to know where she was headed. Maybe she wouldn’t be so depressed, either. But that’s another topic entirely. Still, I’ll make her proud. No, I won’t be able to give her the husband she’s dreaming of, or a teaching job close to home.

But I’ll give her something to love.

No, I won’t give the nineteen-year-old the “Best Rookie Editor” title she covets...

But I’ll give her bragging rights.

No, I won’t give the twenty-two-year-old the famous voice jobs she daydreams about...

But I’ll give her everything she’s working for. 

And one day, I’ll meet the ten-year-old me again and I’ll show her that she won’t become what she things she wants, but who she’s meant to be - the bottom-of-the-totem-pole hard worker that she’s always admired.

“We’ll get there, Sweetheart. Just hang in there.”