monologue female early 20s

Saturday March 29, 2008

Monologue – Female, mid 20’s.

I am unsure. Wholly and surely, I am unsure. About everything. I am unsure of myself, my opinions, people’s perception of me, fabrications of my self-perception, everything. I used to know myself. I think I may or may not have been aware of what constitutes knowing oneself and will have just assumed I did. I would like that bliss again because being unsure is weak and makes you think of excuses – “its okay to feel this way, its healthy, its normal, everyone goes through this” – And, what are you really thinking? Everyone does go through this, but that doesn’t change the uncertainty of your own mind. Uncertainty of your whole being defines nothing about who you are, only who you aren’t. He is not what you are looking for. Why can’t you bring yourself to believe that, Carrie? He drips of perfection in the most mediocre of means and will worship you till no end. You don’t see what he sees. You don’t see yourself in his eyes. It is beyond trying to make it work, you are unsure of him and that is enough.

I don’t want to see myself in my own eyes nor anyone else’s. I’m suffering from uncertainty to hide from any truths and boring truces I have with myself. Blissful ignorance makes me the dusty static of insignificance wasting in a world full of better things.

this is dedicated sarbehr.

pressure building awkward angels weaving floorspace jumpsuit shorts disco ranchero festival signal keyboard favor market boston cleaver skeptical lost couch pharmacy face boudoir british popcorn daring sun short man tubby fat bubby cat rubby dubby puppy cubby corn flake sits away escaping flounders breading wedding resolve impact aware stupendous meow fuck basket denied scarf staple very interesting hello goodbye forget dream sickle longevity upon devise frost poem cake birthday gone forever clever generation demise playful kidneys very small sounds very buddha timing mime fringe proposal total global annihilation departure film alive banging upstairs downstairs underneath in between above behind straddling smacking whacking smooch down under because it is bubbly and coarse and designer clothing fashion meow barista flouncy mocha chino beano fart tart art laugh again together we deliver memories and guitars and pizza smelly king fringawawa chooch merry cheekbone ants dormant slumber poop shoot root loot poot.

You're wondering why I haven't blogged in a bit, a bit being since November.
Maybe since November, I've been extremely busy... Think about it. There's the plethora of holidays followed by the new year, and I started my present job in November. What does that say to you about my job? It's definitely not the end all be all of my career. I'm a secretary. I have yet to be inspired by paperclips and staples, but hope that one day office supplies will become some sort of inspiration. You may start your installation piece of rubber bands and swinglines when you're done reading this, but if you must, you make come back to this later because I'm boring myself just talking about my job.

So it's March. March of the motherfucking penguins guys. Boy, has it been a march up to this point in my life. Now I call this a point. Turning point? That's TBD till at least a few more months.
Still a point though. I just moved out, the first time I've ever moved out of my house and lived on my own. I'm turning 23 years old next month. I'm late in the game and this is probably the only time I've been late in "growing up" during my life time. Is this really me "growing up" though?

All I can think about is how often Pledging my floors in a week. If I'm supposed to be even doing that in a weekly manner, or a monthly manner. Who do I ask? EVERYONE. My conversations have turned into "how does one put on blinds?" "do you have bars on your windows?" "where are the goddamned spoons?!"

Pretty soon I'll be a soccer mom, I can feel it. I painted my wall, built a coffee table, built a bookcase, and have probably been "furnishing" my apartment every minute I have a chance.

When will this obsession go away? What should I be recycling? I forget to eat meals because I'm so engulfed in HOUSEWARES. I get up at 8:00 AM on Saturdays, why, because my brain is racked with RACKS, SHELVES, NAILS, SWIFFERS. I think my libido is being affected. So this is what it's like to be a soccer mom.

So there we have it ladies and gentleman, I've got my own pad with a stellar roommate and a kitty cat to boot. I've got somewhere to smoke pot whenever I fucking want and I think life is as fucking awesome as it can fucking get. FUCK FUCK FUCK! I love you, world.