You look a little lost… It’s ok, join the club. No one is judging you here. Hannarchy is the perfect place for lost people. That’s why I’m starting it. You gotta start somewhere I suppose, so I figured this is a good place to begin.
The general masses tend to look a little like sheep, and you happen to have that “I’ve-got-wool-rattling-around-in-my-head” glaze over your eyes. Wonder of wonders and miracles of miracles, you’ve indeed stumbled upon a messed up little sheep trying to make sense of the big vast world. I think the most unfortunate reason people feel lost is that we are all trying so very hard to look like we have it all together. I’ve been pretending like I have it together for far too long, and I’m getting tired of it. How about some honesty, eh? As a sort of therapy for myself, Hannarchy is my blog. I’ll write down the truth about me and how I see the world. If my mother is the only one reading what I’ve written, that’s ok. It’s not about you, vast universe. It’s about me. Me and my life and realizing I only get one chance to live it. I believe I’ve got a purpose, and living in the bubble isn’t it.
The hardest thing in the world is truth. Honest, brutal, unswaying truth. And having the courage to tell the truth is sometimes stupid. You sit on the floor with your cookie dough, and stare at the ceiling thinking to yourself, “Life is stupid. I don’t want to be an adult. The truth is, all I want to do right now is lay on this floor and eat cookie dough and wallow.” And you know what? That’s ok too. Being honest with yourself is the first step in the right direction.
You want to know about me? Here it goes: The unfortunate truth, and what I’m going to do about it.
The incredibly heinous thing about working at a job you dislike isn’t that you dislike it. It’s that you find yourself accepting where you are because it pays the bills (and thank God you aren’t working at McDonalds) and that it’s close-ish to what you want to do. You sigh, stare out the window, sip your tepid acidic office coffee, and resolve to one day quit and find something better. Which is what happened to me. I found myself doing the same thing every day: wake up, shower, go to work, not die of boredom, go home, make dinner (or heat up leftovers), watch Netflix, go to bed. The only variation was that sometimes dinner and Netflix was at my boyfriend’s house after I had changed from my work clothes into sweatpants. I realized about three weeks ago that I was trapped in a bubble I hated, and didn’t do any of the things I used to love. I haven’t been involved in theater since last fall (I was the Red Queen in Alice in Wonderland), mostly because I don’t really have time for rehearsals anymore, I don’t really do photography any more, and I only cook a little bit on weekends, and never color anymore. But the worst part of all, I have no motivation to write.
Writing used to be my passion. I loved it and it was the best escape from the mundane world I had ever found. But somewhere along the road (I’m guessing sometime after graduation) I stopped writing. And I hate myself for it. I’ve never been good at drafts, so when I write I like to make it perfect the first time. Which makes any novel difficult. One of the reasons it’s taken me so long to get anything done is because I’m only sometimes a perfectionist.
All of this so far is background; here’s what I’m trying to do about it.
1. I started bringing my own lunches to work. Instead of eating out, wasting money, and piling on un-needed calories, I decided to start bringing my own lunches to work. I scrounged through Pinterest and found easy and healthier lunch options. Since I love to cook, I usually make just a little extra dinner so I can take it to work the next day. For example: I made orange chicken and cilantro lime rice last night for dinner, and brought some with me to work today. Go me!
2. I want to start writing a little every day. Thus I present to you, Hannarchy. Something that’s really been weighing on me lately is the fact that too many people put this mask on, hoping to come across as put together or funny or smart or even functional, when really they’re falling apart inside. I’ve done the same thing, and I’m sick of it. I want to be real about me and who I am and what I want in life. I found a piece of a journal entry last night and this is what it said: “I cannot let my dreams die. I want to write books and design things and take pictures of beautiful people. I don’t ever want to lose sight of what I want to do with my life. If I let those dreams die without planting and growing new ones, then I myself will die.” I’m terrified of starting a blog though. I’m terrified when people know the real me, they’ll realize they might not want to be around me or read what I think or say. But I guess if someone is willing to abandon you when you’re being honest and real, maybe they were never supposed to be in your life in the first place.
3. Get involved. I need something to be involved in. I found an online book club, and I’m thinking of starting it. That way I’m reading books again, and talking about them with people. Real people, not just talking to myself in the car. But I need SOMETHING. I’m part of a dungeons & dragons campaign (which is really nerdy but I love it), and that’s about it.
4. Find a mentor. I really want a mentor, but it’s not as easy as all that. I kind of more just want another woman to share life’s crap with. Someone who has been through life a bit and kinda knows how things go. Someone who can share their stories with me and I can learn from their life. I’m getting married soon, and I would love marriage advice from someone who’s walked that tightrope before and has good advice for someone just starting out.
Dear Lord, that was a lot… sorry guys. That’s just where I’m at.
I heard someone once say, “All aboard the struggle bus!” But I don’t feel like a passenger, or even the driver of the struggle bus. I feel like the teddy bear strapped to the grill of the struggle bus, hurtling at uncontrollable speeds down a road marked “DEAD END”.
I solemnly promise to do one thing: Be Myself. If I am anything else but this, then who am I, really?