I Am – Who Are You?

Alright, I was on one of my fave sites (Care2.com) picking out eCards for everyone when I took a glance on the side bar. They have this thing called "Taking Action" where they list off something like ‘eat one vegetarian meal a week’, ‘buy eco friendly products’, or ‘go for a walk’. It’s usually something in relation to green or healthy living. Today though it said something a little different from the usual. I’d love to know what member picked this and thank them for the inspirational thoughts they’ve provoked in me. Thoughts are like my chocolate, I just can’t get enough.

The request for action asked people to: "Be thankful for who you are". I absolutely love that. If you’ve read my last post, or even my last few, you might have noticed I’m a little depressed and changing in a couple of work related ways I’m not fond of but I am still so happy despite what’s going on.

I am thankful every day- not just for the day itself, the people around me, or the good fortune I’ve been blessed with. But I really am thankful for who I am!

When I was fifteen I went through a life changing experience that I couldn’t possibly fit into this single post let alone a thousand. I figured out, at least a tiny bit, who I wanted to be as a person spiritually and mentally and even a little bit with my actions. I started to talk, I walked with my head held high, I made choices (some I shouldn’t have but none that I regret). I even went as far as to change my spiritual name.

So, this is me…

I am a person: an adult’s mind trapped in a child’s form. I am a young lady, a fiance’, daughter, a sister, and a mother of cats. I love to talk, to tell my stories and weave my words. I love to share everything in my head not just for the sake of others but so that I can learn more about myself. That’s a hobby of mine. I love being asked questions and though I may act modest I actually covet any praise placed upon me with great greed.

I am a very nervous person and people scare me but the thing that frightens me most is myself. I am a liar because I can and have lied many a time without remorse. I am often paranoid and I am afraid of my anger because it makes me shaky and I have a tendency to imagine violent things. I am quite and often unwilling to test boundaries until I’m forced to.

I am wild. I love to dance in the rain, my arms outstretched and running in circles. I like to sing songs without words and move without music. I like to tell people that I love them even if they are only friends and acquaintances just because it’s true. I am oddly cultured. I love classical music and really do like the taste of both tofu and soy milk though not in the same meal. I like to dress up when I have no place to, I’ll wear dresses, heels, and earrings just for a night alone eating popcorn on the couch.

I am book smart. I don’t deny it unless someone tells me to my face. I am not street smart though I’d like people to think otherwise. I am naive and wise all in the same step like a grandfather trying to learn how to work the latest computer. I am older than myself but with each year I gain I seem to be becoming more of a child and often fear I’m becoming immature though I know my therapist would say I’m just letting myself be a kid.

I am an internet nerd, completely self taught in web design. I am an anime freak with some other strange but related interests on the side. I am a hard worker but I am also lazy and lacking ambition. I am not as emotional as I desire to be.

I am a contradiction and a paradox and I revel in these facts. I like to confuse people. I am a Wiccan, a true blue believer in Faeries and angels, a Taoist, and something different all together. I believe in things most wouldn’t dare speak of. I am too open sometimes and loyal to a fault. I often try to please too many people to the point of forgetting myself.

I am aware of my spirit and feel that I am something special inside. Sometimes I am afraid I’m deluding myself but I don’t dwell on it. I am a wee bit less on the outside than I would wish to be. I am vain but consciously so- that has to count for something. I am not always a good person and often have my own motives but I try to make up for it with good actions from my motives.

I am not musically talented though I am constantly trying to play instruments and occasionally trying to write music. I am not good at communicating. I am forcing myself to bare my soul on this blog and though it hurts at times I love the rush it gets me. I am a poor speller and a decent writer.

I am not who I used to be. I am a Spirit. I am Feeby.

This is me. Who are you?

This is my Christmas dare: Bare your soul in a post. Think about everything you are. Try not to write what you were and use the present tense. Be bluntly honest with the good and the bad. Write everything thing you can think of but don’t over think it or take more than 10 or 15 minutes. After all no single person can be entirely placed on a page and pinned with mere words. The spirit is too much for that.

Merry Christmas and Yule to all!

I Just Don’t Know

I’m not sure what I am at the moment. I’d like to say I’m feeling depressed still over the whole work thing but I’m just not certain. I am still upset but the name for some of these particular emotions eludes me. I’ve noticed a change in myself at work and I’m not sure I like it. Given all change is scary, even good changes and I am one of those people more frightened by changes than most but it’s more or less the type of change I’m seeing that I don’t like.

When I first started working there it was a move out of desperation. In the foster home day in and day out- I needed a way to get out of the house and be around other people especially adults. Being suddenly thrust into a house with six other teenage girls hadn’t proven healthy for me, I’ve just never been able to get along with those in my own age group very long in the first place. Being forced to room with them, being forced to hide my spiritual beliefs and practices, being told that those I love didn’t love me, and being subjected to a lifestyle I had thought too unique to happen to me more than once a lifetime… Like I said I needed to get out of the house really, really badly.

So, when I started to work there I was really happy. I didn’t care about my paychecks. I never got to keep much of the money anyway and often mailed it out to safe places right after cashing them. My only incentive was that I was getting out of the house. Then when I got out of foster care and started to live with my Hunny I didn’t really have that need anymore. In fact the first few months we were living together I called in sick more times than you can imagine just to spend more time at home.

Eventually I got restless and was fully back at work but now it was just so I would have something to do during the day. My paychecks still weren’t and have never been incentive for me to work. I just liked working before but now…

Well, after what they’ve done and with the knowledge that they won’t ever let me work in any department other than dishwashing… to top it off I’m often training newbies who make more than I do (I said the money wasn’t incentive I never said it didn’t matter). I’ve noticed I haven’t been working as hard these past few days. I feel like I have an attitude problem though no one else has said anything yet. When I work I feel angry and resentful at some of the smallest things that I’ve always dealt with without complaint before. How no one has time to say thank you or how the cooks put their pans in the wrong spot leading others to get burned or dishes to break in an area of my responsibility. I get ruffled at the slightest comment about my ability to lift things and I’ve found that I’m starting to take short cuts in my work that I would never let my newbies take before (given I know they do when I’m not around and it doesn’t hurt much but it doesn’t ensure the quality of the job).

It just seems like I’m not caring as much as I should. All my life people have called me lazy or told me I’m not good enough so when it comes to a job I tend to push myself pretty far to get it done right. I like to go above and beyond. I don’t complain I just get it done. That’s how I am so you can see why these changes have me worried. I don’t like being like this. It’s not normal for me and they aren’t good changes.

I just don’t know what to do. I’m in online education so for the mean time I can’t really get another job, it’s not like I live in an area abundant with employment opportunities anyway and to be honest I don’t think I have any skills.

I’m feeling very useless right now. Maybe I am lazy, maybe I am weak, maybe I don’t have skills. I know I want to work hard, I want to be good at what I do or at least be good enough to be needed. I want to know how I feel about this whole situation. I want to have my ambition to get my school stuff done, I want to have ambition to get my job done even if I don’t like it. I want to like working again.

So, for now all I can do is write. I’m feeling lost and what’s worse is I kind of want to feel angry about all this. My mind says anger achieves nothing and the way I feel like acting out at work is immature but I just can’t help it. The rest of me wants to sulk, pout, scream, and shout. Oh, spirits I pray for guidance.

Words

I’m still kind of depressed but I think I’m getting better. It must be part of that seasonal stuff on top of the topics I’ve been writing about lately as well as stress. I have quite a bit of that on a daily basis but this week seems a bit worse.

Never fear though, I’m still alive and forever writing. I’m sitting her at work, an hour or so earlier because my Hunny had to work at a different time than myself, and figured why not make a blog post. This month is one with the least amount of posts which is strange because it seems like I’m writing every single day. Sometimes I wonder what I’m working on or achieving when I write or needlessly revise but it’s a nice escape never the less. I have music from some anime blaring in my headphones so I can drown out the fact that I’m about to clock into a job I hate and have to work in because of my limited abilities (see post Utterly Heartbroken). I like music in other languages. It’s nice to just sit there and have to feel what’s going on without any help from the lyrics. To translate the rhythm, beat, and tone into some barley tangible emotion that maybe only you can find in that song. It’s almost pretty. There’s a piano in the background and it sounds like a choir or large group singing it.

I like language. I mean, being a writer of course I like words, but I love language in general almost as much as I love the craft that takes my words and turns them into worlds and magick, people and paradise. When I was younger I thought myself bits and pieces of Gaelic and other old Celtic words from various books and committed them to memory. This was mostly from encyclopedia like books, I was sufficed to say strange for my age.

Whenever I would read about Celtic history and such I would come across symbols, Runic and otherwise and when I saw these I would immediately try to find out what each of them met. When I found out that Runes could correspond to the alphabet I started using them to write in my journal to keep it a little more secret. With my spiritual beliefs I also tried to write these entries without the alphabet, using only their symbolic meanings but it made it difficult to translate later on because what one meaning could mean to you one day could mean something entirely different another especially as you grow and change yourself.

Another Runic set of letters I came across was Ogam also spelled Ogham. It was used in various languages and sometimes called the alphabet of bonding or death. I liked this one a lot because it was easier to understand and no one I knew had ever heard of it. From there I began to teach myself the Theban symbols (not as well as the others, alas) as well as others.

Symbols and letters and words have always been a part of my daily life. I don’t know how else I would express myself without them though I often wonder about things…

When I was younger I didn’t speak a whole lot and often went weeks or even months without uttering a single sound. It was fairly normal for me. Sometimes I think back to times in my life when I should have remained silent and I wonder what it would be like to be mute? I still don’t speak a whole lot in present day but I do talk a lot more than I used to. In a way I’m lucky I guesse because I only take the time to talk when I think I have something worth saying. Most of my words are thought out in advance, though this doesn’t always help I think I’m a foot further up the hill than many my age who often say things without meaning or pretense.

What would it be like to be mute as a writer? To only be able to express oneself through the written word? What would it be like to be deaf? To know no words or the sound of the rain? Could one write without knowledge of words? What would it be like to be blind, deaf, and mute? To have nothing but your thoughts to keep you company?

I think I would enjoy being mute as a writer but I don’t think I could stand to lose those other senses. That’s almost like wondering what I would do if I suddenly lost both hands. The tools to my trade… nope. I couldn’t live that way, but still…

To be soundless except from the sound of pen on paper and fingers on keys…. :) now that is an interesting thought indeed.