Wow, This Indecision is Killing Me

                                               (Me, my brother, and my father)

I have the itchies. You see, I want to write, I LOVE to write, but I don't know what to begin with (cliché, I know, but unfortunately very very true). My poor little typing fingers can't keep up with my absolutely buzzing brain and I'm having a hard time controlling myself. It's making me anxious. So I s'pose that the best way to begin is just to go for it. Kinda like when you're hot and you really want to take a dip but the water's seems icy cold. Well, maybe that’s not exactly the same feeling, but the analogy is actually a rather good starting point for my newfound blog.

I'm one of those one toe first, then the ankle, followed by half the leg, getting into the water type of people. It’s a shoddy habit that has developed over time: as a child, I just flew into lakes and pools but now my entry into such things is slug-like. Part of me doesn't understand why I make such an experience so utterly painfully slow, but the more soft and squishy and delicate part of me appreciates my tendency to delay. I could lie and say that my inch-by-inch, slowly does it, habit is a way of savoring the “pleasantly” cool water, but in reality, it's an action based on pure fear. Ha, how silly is that? Fearing cold water, well that's just ridiculous. I mean, there are so many other things to worry about. Like passing my exams and getting a degree, a job, a house, a husband, CHILDREN. Water shpawter. Perhaps you can relate to my terrible tendency to put too much thought and energy into the mundane. Like the bread I made yesterday. It was bad. And this made me angry but really, it shouldn't have. I mean people have bad meals occasionally. No biggy. But for me, disappointing meals are a real letdown and instigate great torment. That is until I remind myself that it was one meal in one day in one month in one year of my life. Phew for perspective...and Rescue Remedy!

I also have the not-so-helpful tendency to look back versus forwards. Yes, looking back can be helpful as learning from one’s past is useful, but the way I tend to look back is, well, not so good. For example, right now, I'm sitting at my desk, engaging in this blog post, but my head won't stop wandering to last Saturday and it makes my heart sink. It's annoying. I mean I linger on the past and compare the present to whatever I was doing at another time. For example, this time last week, I was meandering around the farmer's market with my mum. Oh, how I miss that. My heart is heavy and I so long for her to be here now, but there's nothing I can do about it. I have to do things for myself now and I have to find my own little things that make me happy even when I am alone. But this is hard. Being comfortable and content in one's own company is a huge, great big challenge. Trust me, I've been trying for the past, hm, two years of my life. Ugh, It feels like so much longer than that that I have been away from home, fending for myself. It's exhausting. The times I'm with my friends are fabulous, don't get me wrong, but there's still that ceaseless longing for home. I only hope that it is eases with time but for now, that idea seems completely and utterly unlikely.

But to remedy the panic of forever yearning for the comfort of home, I remind myself of how, as a child, I never ever thought I'd end my intense relationship with dolls. I was nuts about them. Nuts to the extent that they'd be the first thing I'd sniff out upon returning home from boarding school. I was so attached to them that the thought of loosing interest in my "babies" seemed so far-fetched. But I have. And I don't know exactly when things changed, but I no longer care for such things. Dolls are totally out. Will this be the same for home? Well, maybe not entirely but I'm almost certain (and definitely hoping) that my attachment will soon (or at least eventually) diminish. Not to the extent that I couldn't care less about my family and our cabin house in the Sierra Nevada mountains, but to the more gracious extent that I can get on with my life without having a chunk of my heart weighed down with that mummy-longing feeling. As for right now, I forgive myself. This process can only be natural.

Anyway, on a happier note, to distract myself from reality, I engage in ONLINE SHOPPING! Boy oh boy, the self control required is enough to make me wanna take a nap afterwards, but the joy of ogling sequined dresses and silky shirts is SO worth it. Yes, occasionally I'll give in and purchase a thing or two or three (!) but I make myself do the old "wait two days and see if you still really want it" trick. Thing is, and maybe this is a sign from above, but I always seem to forget where I saw the item and thus cannot return to the online store to purchase it. Hmff. Or, when I finally decide that yes, I reaaaaaally really really MUST HAVE and NEED (not just want) the pretty little dress/sexy shoes/ sultry top, it's too late. Some other whippersnapper with less indecision than I have races in and bags the last item. That is the most frustrating thing EVER. Seriously. Especailly when there's one item left and you're in the process of deciding the size you want when suddenly the dreaded "Sold Out" message pops up. Those "one remaining item" signs really get my heart pumping, head spinning, and hands a-shakin'. Just like the feeling that I had last night when I had a whole two minutes remaining to post an essay online for my film class. Why do I do that to myself? Although I must admit, the adrenaline inducing pressure gives me quite the high and sweating over an essay is a rather intriguing experience. Not that I recommend it or anything.

Uh-oh, that "caged-tiger" feeling that I'm getting from sitting too long (and from not yet going outside) is spiking. Best get going before things get savage…