Substance

For a while I thought it'd be okay...

But is it so wrong to strive and long for more? And why is it deemed selfish to drop everything and go after what you want?
I have half a mind to just go. To do what, I'm not entirely sure. But the idea of just quitting my job, packing my bags, and setting off somewhere else to just experience life is sounding very appealing to me at the moment. And perhaps it's just what I need to appreciate what I have.

I just read a marvellous book called "The Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand (it's quite famous, actually). Though fantastic, a small part of me wishes I hadn't read it. Had I avoided it, I might not be in this position. The book is about a multitude of things; the themes and ideas which are relevant to my situation include the truth of how influenced people are in their ideas--most are not made by independent thought but by the opinions of others--and that altruism isn't necessarily a virtue, in many cases it serves as the facade for one's own selfishness.
At this moment, I can't stand my job. There, I said it. When I was first hired I don't think I would have said that. But now, especially after reading this book, I can't even fathom going back. But I have to.

I'm just sick of all the bullshit. One person came up with a (valid) fact about what's being sold, and the company runs with it and stretches it to the point that it's overdone. They're clothes for God's sake, not a person with exceptional depth! As I write this I feel contradictory thoughts sprouting in my head. Personally, my clothes are an extension of myself, but I don't need some goddamn idiot telling me that I'll feel better with it. That's the problem: capitalism. And the use of any and all things to make that money. They don't care about you, they just care that they can tear you down enough that you'll look to them or their product to lift you up.
I know the world's materialistic. I know that I can be superficial. But come on. I want to do something with meaning.

My thoughts are really jumbled and might not make sense. But I needed to get this off my chest a bit. I'm not even close to being done, but I can't think of any other way to express my frustrations than smashing the keyboard a few times and no one wants to/will be able to read that.

So I'll leave it at this.

You can go back to your life now.

Kiah

Tattoo

Over the years I've started to notice how fragile human memories are. We have absolutely no control over what stays in our minds and what drifts off into nothingness, unless we solidify it somehow. I have this blog, my Tumblr, and my own personal journal to help me out a bit. But there are certain things I don't want to remember, necessarily, that have been written down. And when I come across them I can't help but sigh and wonder why I decided to dwell on that subject just then, because it brings it (the situation, the feelings, etc.) back to me in the present...

I'm getting slightly off-topic right now.

The topic I wish to write about is tattoos. This is mostly because I've been seriously toying with the idea of getting one--"seriously" as in I booked an appointment for tomorrow at 5:30. This morning I woke up and cancelled it. Though I've wanted this specific tattoo for a few years now, the idea of it being so permanent scares me...I mean, hell, the very idea of committing to having a boyfriend gives me a bad feeling--a tattoo's forever! My problem is that I get tired of things much too quickly.

Not long after I cancelled my appointment, I realized again that it would be nice to get the tattoo. I'll say it again: I've wanted it for years. But there's always a "what if?" for me.

The tattoo I want would be in the middle of my forearm and read, "All the world's a stage" in Courier New. Simple and perfect for me as it would serve as a reminder of the one real passion I have in life which is acting. But then I got to thinking, "What if it doesn't work out? What if I don't become an actress?" That tattoo would just serve as a reminder of my failure...

Now I don't plan on failing. And the truth that is blatantly obvious to me (and always is) is that I'm over-thinking this way too much. But a tattoo is so permanent!

Which leads me to wonder if it's so bad to forget things at all. Sure, I may want to remind myself of what I love to do with all my heart, but I can summon that up whenever I want because I love it that much. To try and force myself in the future to have the same feelings merely by ink on my arm might be a bit selfish of my present-self. Okay, I'm definitely over-thinking it at this point.

There's just so much in my life that I love, but there's about the same amount in my life that I used to love. And whenever I come across something that reminds me of what those things used to be, I get a bit nostalgic and regretful. For example, whenever I see dancers I always wonder why I ever quit dancing because it used to be one of my favourite things in the world. Or when I watch soccer I wonder why I quit that too--I was planning on becoming a professional player in grade 5! Or when I reread stories that I wrote a few years ago when I was going to pursue pretty much every career under the sun (partially because I'm bad at making choices, but mostly because my mom turned me into a cocky little brat who thought she could do anything...).

I guess my point here may be that it's a part of life to forget. There's nothing wrong with forgetting. In fact, it's probably best that we do. Why dwell on the past when the future is blank and ready to be created?

I suppose my decision's been made. I won't get the tattoo to remind myself of what I love right now. But I do still plan on getting one. I'm thinking an infinite sign on my back/the back of my neck? Nothing too tied to anything, but still with a bit of meaning.

You can go back to your life now.

Kiah

Love Me

If you want me, you can have me.
I'll be yours in a minute.
No wooing or courting, just take your hand
And put me in it.

You may call me desperate,
Or perhaps unfulfilled,
But I just want to be loved—
I can love you back; I will.

So open your arms,
Beckon me over.
I'll find my way to them,
You'll be my cover,
My shelter,
Protection,
That's all I ask.
And I'll do anything, I promise,
To ensure we last.

If you want me, just say,
Or give me a kiss on the cheek.
A few thoughtful words,
That's all that I seek.

I'm empty inside,
There's a hole in my chest—
Not from heartbreak,
My heart's decayed from too much rest.

I won't say it again.
I'm yours if you want.
Take me. Have me.
And, please, love me.

Enduring

There's really only so much a person can take.
These next few months are going to be, without a doubt, pretty hard for me.

I'm trying not to be negative, but it's just so hard not to be.

Happy New Year

I think 2011 was my best year yet.
Though only about half of it was as good as I had hoped. From going on my first trip off the (main) continent to Punta Cana, to meeting The Buried Life, to my trip to New York City, to graduation, to Harry Potter, to seeing Mumford & Sons, to finally getting tickets to see the Arctic Monkeys (even if they're just the opening act).

The rest was all right, but overall it was good.
Let's hope 2012 does just as well.