If I appear normal, it is a carefully developed illusion.

It’s been a strange few days.

I look down at my typing hands, always typing, but do I even enjoy typing? Do I enjoy this click click click of the keyboard as I drum out other people’s thoughts?

Not this, blogging, this is my own thoughts, I do think I like this.

I know what I hate, that I hate this job, this place I feel imprisoned, although many would point out that it was an imprisonment I entered into willingly. Well who wouldn’t enter the mouth of the monster if they thought it had no teeth? Especially if just there, on the tip of the tongue, were the temptations. Called: stability. Called: benefits. Called: paycheck.

I’ll admit I didn’t know what to do, and without knowing what road you’re traveling, you will inevitably get detoured. How can you get detoured on the way to a destination you don’t know? It sounds like a paradox, but I am living it.

What do I want to do? I want to sing, dance, perform. Those are my favorite things, along with writing. Why are none of these things even vaguely dependably profitable? I can sing well, my voice is decently impressive, and I have about an album’s worth of original songs (although not the ability to write the music, I never learned how), according to those choice few who have heard them, they don’t even suck. I can dance…those who know me well know how I dance, and those who know me well are small in number. They have seen me defy gravity, they have seen the joy and the pain that comes with that life; although I’m not sure anyone knows how much it hurts to be standing on the bus, and grab onto a pole for balance. It’s like a flash, the feeling of centrifugal force lifting, and then reality. I also like writing, although I don’t know if I would be happy doing only that, sitting down to a laptop every day and banging out words. I might, I just don’t know. And the uncertainty of the financials associated with all of these prospects is just not something I can have at this stage in my life.

Zak just lost his job (yesterday). Now, until he finds something else, I am the sole “breadwinner” in the family. We put out applications and typed up a resume, I took the day off from my job to help him, but I don’t know how long that will take…it could take a week, it could take longer, who knows? “The Economy Sucks”

It’s not like I can pick up my previous employment, as I am no longer the size required. I have gained so much weight being unhappy and sedentary, secretary, whatever. I am no longer “cute,” I am no longer “petite,” I am instead, to my horror, stretch-marked. I have passed chubby. It’s not that I have a problem with bigger people, and indeed if someone else was my size without my particular career goals, I would tell them they were perfectly fine. I look good in clothes, my waist is still proportionate, my ass is still high. But there’s no way I could go back now. Maybe if I “really worked at it” whatever the hell that means. Truth is, I have worked at it, I’ve worked hard, but every time, I fail, and now the scar of failure starts to ache before I’ve even begun. It’s simply simpler to enjoy the little things, the Doritos, the French fries.

I’m returning to college classes next week, and although the class looks very interesting, the whole thing fills me with dread. What will I decide? What will I major in? What can I major in, and will it change anything? I floated the idea of a sexuality therapist, because I am very interested in sexuality and psychology. But I know almost nothing about that field, so I don’t know if it would be rewarding for me. Also, can a therapist have her own practice? Because I never want to work for someone else again. Can a therapist have pink hair?

I could major in creative writing, but then we’re right back to the “not making any money” problem. there are hundreds of thousands of writers, and about four are famous/successful/make their primary income from writing. Obviously I am exaggerating, but the theory of the statement stands. To succeed in that field, you have to be exceptional, and I don’t know that I am exceptional. I would love to teach college creative writing, but that would require at least a masters (even just to teach at a community college), and again, what if I can’t find something, what if try and fail? Can a college professor have pink hair?

I’m tired of conforming, tired of trying to be normal. I’m NOT normal. Not even vaguely. If I appear that way, it is a carefully developed illusion.


~ by fayeelizibeth on 05.14.2010.

One Response to “If I appear normal, it is a carefully developed illusion.”

  1. It is an illusion! And some of us are better at it than others.
    As for what you want to do with your life, just do something that you know you love, because if you keep waiting to know for sure, you’ll be waiting forever.
    The key is to take action. Baby steps. Setting up a gig a month singing, write a short story a week, its gotta be something and its gotta be quantifiable. And do it now! Tomorrow comes here before you know it.

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