confession

All posts in the confession category

The Next Step

Published Tuesday, May 21, 2013 by Chasing Neptune

If all goes according to plan, one year from now, I will be a college graduate. Don’t worry, I’m not going to launch into some nostalgic rant or preach about the importance of starting a new adventure. I am going to ponder what the hell I’m doing with my life, but hey, at least I won’t whine or stick my nose up.

I’ve decided to go to graduate school. It just seems like the next logical step. Even though I bitch incessantly about the stress of university, I do love it. I’m good at school. I know how to work the system, and it is a huge part of my identity. I’m not ready to give it up just yet.

So, I’ve decided to get my Master’s Degree in Writing, Editing, and Publishing. I like to write. I enjoy editing (probably because red is my favorite color, and I love feeling superior to others). And I think the publishing industry is my best chance for making a butt-load of money with an English degree. I may also be able to be a professor. I’m leaving my options open. In other words, I’ve made a decision that allows me to procrastinate making the real decision.

I think I’m just at the point in my life where the decisions are becoming irreversible. At this point, I can’t change my Bachelor’s Degrees. Luckily, I’m pleased with them. Once I get accepted into a graduate school, that decides my Master’s and, ultimately, my career.

I think I’m just a little worried that I’ll fail. I feel like I’ve been given a bow and arrow, and I have to shoot a target while blindfolded. I know the general area of the target, I’ve seen other people shoot an arrow, but I have no idea how to pull this off myself.

What if I decide I don’t want to sit around and help other writers reach their dreams? What if I try my hand at writing and realize I’m horrid or don’t love it?

I could always be a housewife. Better learn how to cook…

Pet Peeves

Published Friday, June 29, 2012 by Chasing Neptune

Screeching styrofoam – dry icebergs

grinding against each other, dandruff

flakes falling on the floor.

Illiterate idiots – pushing shopping carts

out of Walmart entrances,

into the exits.

Seatbelt alarms – blaring from Ford Focuses

and binging from Toyota Yarises, the second

the car is in drive.

180-degree conversationalists – I just started a new acne

medication/I have this one huge pimple, Frank’s car

broke down/My car is a piece of crap, Bob just lost

his job/I wish I could quit mine.

White lies – membership dues and rent

are all you have to pay, you could totally pass

for twenty-one, you did all you could

to save him, you have no place

in my future, I miss

you.

*Still quite rough, but I like this topic. It’ll be fun to polish off when I’m not exhausted.

A Poem about Loss and Friendship

Published Wednesday, June 27, 2012 by Chasing Neptune

We’d been stranded at sea for fifteen days
when I watched my little brother die
from the inside out.

As I pushed him overboard, the little people
in their little boats didn’t notice.
His body never made a ripple – I never
screamed.

I wanted to jump in after him.

I gripped the side of the boat,
trembled and vomited
four times.

A dove landed on my shoulder,
whispered, I know what he meant
to you.

A vulture landed in the boat,
snapped, Give me your hand
to eat or get out of my boat.

Dove cooed, Fly away.

Vulture crowed, I’m hungry.

I
flew
away.

Week Two: Compliments

Published Tuesday, March 27, 2012 by Chasing Neptune

Date: Monday, March 19 to Sunday, March 25

Rules:

  • Must compliment at least 3 people every day
  • People can never be repeated (at least 21 different people over the course of the week)
  • Must be genuine and not “I” focused (“I” like this, “I” like that…)

Reason Why:

I undertook this challenge, because I thought it would help me deal with some of the issues that I am going through right now. I’ve heard many people say that “you get into relationships what you put out.” Therefore, I thought that making a conscious effort to appreciate the people in my life would be a good way to remind myself of their value and feel more connected in my little bubble of the earth. Also, despite popular belief, I’m not totally heartless. I like to make others feel good about themselves and recognize their own beauty, creativity, intelligence, etc. I guess that I thought that by helping other people to see these qualities in themselves, I would feel like I was doing a valuable service to them, and thus, making a difference from this little bubble.

Results:

Overall, I really liked doing this challenge. When I was constantly hunting for compliments, it made me shift my focus from myself onto others. Also, I admit that I got a selfish kind of joy for being the one to make other people smile. During the middle of the week, I felt proud of myself. I felt connected to people. I felt like for once I wasn’t being such a self-focused bitch, not that I’m a completely self-centered/ungrateful fiend, but I have a tendency to bottle up my emotions and completely internalize all my energy…which doesn’t exactly read as pleasant to other people.

I think the lesson I learned this week is that a lot of the problems that I’m going through are with myself. Am I totally happy with where I live? No. Am I totally happy with my course load? No. Am I totally happy with my skin? No. Am I totally happy with the fact that both of my majors probably won’t lead to prosperous careers? Well, kind of… Is all of that 100% my fault? No. Is part of it my fault? Yes.

The point is: I’m not completely happy with my life, and that’s okay. I’ve been through happy spells, and I’ve been through sad spells several times before. What this challenge reminded me is that I need to get the fuck out of my own head and actively try to make myself happy again. I’ve done it once, I’ve done it twice, so surely the third time will be the charm. It’s too late this week to start my “no complaining” challenge, but I think I will undertake it soon. I need to remember how lucky I am to be living my life. I need to remember how much I love myself. I need to remember how much I love the people in my life.

To those of you affected by my tyranny: I apologize. I’m going to try and be better, but know that some days these demons will get the best of me.

To PP: I know I’ve been a whiny bitch. And I know that you would be disappointed in how passive I’ve been. I’m going to be proactive and try to change – no matter what I decide to do with my life, I’m going to make sure that it makes me happy, now and later. I’m going to shed this scaly skin I’ve grown and do my best to be the woman you taught me to be.

A Failure and a Promise

Published Monday, November 28, 2011 by Chasing Neptune

Most people who know me relatively well, including myself (as ridiculous as this all will sound), give me too much credit for my ambition. You see, I’m a talker. I have a million grand plans for myself. I know exactly who I was, who I am, and who I want to be. I have a plan for the present and am forming one for the future. I am tied down by obligation and a sense of duty, but I still find time for myself, and in that time, I watch Supernatural and listen to bands that I like to pretend people have never heard of and…make more plans.

In my defense, most of my plans are well thought-out and relatively realistic (other than the ones that involve marrying rockstars and NASCAR drivers). I want to go to graduate school and live in Jersey for a while with my best friend. I want to own one of my dream cars and spend my weekends at concerts and race tracks. I want to write a novel. You see? All obtainable, not easy, but obtainable. The only problem is that I can never actually accomplish a damn thing.

I have my plans and my lists: a bucket list, a list of fears to conquer, a list of music/books to contemplate, a list of things I want out of life. And I can talk the talk, oh boy can I talk it. I interviewed my way to several opportunities in high school. I made my big ideas sound so well planned and so damn easy that I’ve got a lot of people convinced that I have some sort of potential lurking inside of me, just oozing out of the seams of my soul. I know I sound like an arrogant prick right now, and I apologize…because in all honesty, I’m just someone who knows how to fake it.

I often tell my roommate that I feel out of place at comic book stores. I think that feeling is what started this rant to which I am subjecting you, my poor, defenseless reader. You see, whenever I walk into a comic book store – having only read two or three comics in my entire life – I feel like a fraud. Sure, I’ve learned how to browse the shelves, have a pointless loyalty to Dark Horse, and know which titles to peruse and purchase. However, I have no real knowledge of the comic book industry. And I get it – we all have to learn sometime; this is my chance to dive into that world if I so choose, to slowly assimilate myself into a culture which I have long misunderstood and now long to join. So I walk into the store, faking my confidence and waiting for the moment when the part of me who is presently clueless and longing to grasp the meaning behind the art finally combines with the future part of me who fully appreciates that art.

Another unsettling notion is my attempt to “write.” I am so full of shit that it’s terrifying. Since the second grade, when my “talent” for writing was first recognized, I have declared that all I want to do with my life is write books. Ha. Yeah, great idea, Kate. I am a Creative Writing major (like that’s going to do me any good in life), who has turned out no publishable work, save a handful of elementary-level poems. I have failed at National Novel Writing Month (miserably, I might add) for my second year. Sure, I had school work and extra-curricular obligations – but had I truly committed myself, I could have made the word count. I’m not saying my novel would have been anything more than a pile of dead carcasses and a crushed can of Mountain Dew, but it could have been 50,000 words long. Instead, I am sitting on a way-too-low word count, using my beautiful tongue to smooth over my indiscretion to everyone who believed in my big plan to “actually succeed this year.” And what am I doing now? Instead of writing my novel, I am writing a rant that no one will read and hypocritically ripping myself to shreds.

I must get some sort of sick satisfaction out of watching myself fail and then bitching instead of taking control of my life.

In simple terms, here is the problem: my present self has become bored with herself and is ready to take the next step in her character development. However, she is also extremely insecure: afraid of the world and her self. Moreover, like all humans, she finds comfort in what is known and expected and never has the guts to actually try to push herself.

Yes, I have begun referring to myself in the third person. Thus, it is logical to conclude that I am insane and can now rebuild.

From my feelings of inadequacy in situations in which I wished I belonged, as well as my recent failures to stick to any of my big goals, I have concocted…wait for it…another plan. Fantastic, right? Bet you didn’t see that one coming.

Long story short, the ticket stubs that once filled my cork board are now safely tucked away in a scrapbook, leaving me with a glaringly blank brown canvas. This is going to become my inspiration board, which I will fill with pictures and quotes and (of course) lists and plans. Also, I am going to make yet another potentially (aka most likely) ill-fated promise to myself.

Every single day, for 365 consecutive days, I am going to do something that inspires me. This activity may be diving into an interest that I’ve always felt unworthy to explore, tackling an item from my bucket list, confronting a fear, or fulfilling one of my long-lost promises to myself (yeah, I’ll totally work out for 30 minutes today). Hopefully someone out there will hold me truly accountable to this. We’ll see…

If I were being logical, I would declare this to begin on January 1, 2012 – start the new year with a new me. But I know me. If I put this off, I will never do it. Also, if the world ends on December 21st, I will fail by default, so I need to start now and stack the deck in my favor as much as possible. 😉 All else aside, it’s in the midnight hour, and nothing logical ever happens in the midnight hour.

So here we go. I began this post Sunday, so lest I succumb to cheating already, I will not count it as my Monday item, even though I am technically finishing it today. And again, I cannot count my mission as beginning Sunday, because all this post has been is incessant ranting, useless self-bashing, and whole lot of ambitious talking.

And I think we all know how I feel about my talking.

Not a Normal Girl

Published Thursday, July 7, 2011 by Chasing Neptune

Tonight, I had an interesting conversation with someone who I have known basically my entire life. However, as he pointed out, we don’t really know each other very well at all. I don’t know what spurred his interest in knowing more about me. Well, I have a hunch, but I don’t want to get my hopes up. Let’s just say that his honesty surprised me. The conversation started in the typical way, “What have you been doing lately?” I answered, among other things, by saying that I’ve been playing video games. Why? I like to kill zombies. A few texts later, I received one of the greatest compliments ever, “You are not a normal girl.”

And no, I’m not being sarcastic. He really made my night. 🙂

Anyway, I’m not sure what exactly my purpose is in writing this post. Usually, I have a clear purpose. For example, my picky eater post was all about bitching out people who question my sense of taste. But this one, I don’t know. I guess I just felt like I needed to close a meaningful night with something thoughtful. After all, I’ve spent the rest of the evening making dinner plans with one of my best friends and discussing inspiration and creativity with two other great friends. Writing just felt…needed, you know?

Maybe that is one of the things that makes me “not normal.” I mean, being a “writer,” I know a lot of “writers,” and most of them feel better after writing things out. However, although the lifestyle of a writer seems spontaneous and creative and romantic, most people don’t feel comfortable turning their thoughts into words…let alone posting them in a blog for all the world to see. Then again, maybe I’m just arrogant and think that the world wants to hear all of my innermost musings. Psh.

De todos modos, in continuing with the spirit of the night, I think I will make a list of things that most people don’t know about me. Sure, I’ve already done a post of confessions, but I promise not to be redundant. So here it is written, ten things that make me “not normal,” ten little quirks of which I am proud, just for you. You know who you are.

  1. When I’m feeling really inspired, I like to write my ideas on my bathroom mirrors in dry erase marker. When I’m stressed, I write song lyrics. A couple of weeks ago, I did both in one night. My bathroom mirror still holds a four-step process for making a demon, and four lines from “Heaven Help Us” by My Chemical Romance.
  2. On my best days, I like to turn the surgical scars on my wrist into critters – stick bugs, butterflies, lizards, etc. This started when a friend doodled on me, and I just keep doing it when I’m extremely happy. I don’t know why.
  3. Similarly, I like to write bold words on my forearms or neck, but I’m seldom brave enough to do it. Every now and then, though, when I’m going to a concert or Chateau and feel really gutsy, I will.
  4. I really want to be one of those people that gets up at dawn and runs/jogs into the sunrise every morning…but I hate mornings and exercise.
  5. I refuse to drink/get drunk/party for two reasons. One, the people that I admire most in this world don’t drink. Two, I’m afraid that I would get caught up in the dark romanticism of self destruction.
  6. I have a world map on my bedroom wall. I have stars on everywhere that I have been and dots everywhere that I want to go.
  7. Even though I have had my braces off for almost five years, I still sleep in my retainers. When I speak with them in, I have a lisp. My roommates think it’s cute.
  8. I keep a journal, and in it I list positive things that happened to me, my mood at the beginning and end of the day, the color of the day, the song of the day, something that inspired me, something that I learned, something for which I am thankful, something I accomplished, and something I am anticipating. This began two years ago, when I would list three positive things that happened every day on my calendar. I still do that, too.
  9. I don’t dress like a “normal” girl my age. I refuse to wear sweatpants unless I’m going to bed or feel like total crap. I do not own a single pair of flip-flops. I think one of the best sensations in the world is the slight throbbing of the feet when I slip out of a pair of high heels, because if I spent an entire day in heels, it means the day was not wasted; I must have been doing something important.
  10. I have a huge sweet tooth. I hate to cook, but love to bake, especially from scratch. My favorite candy is Kit-Kats, although Reeses have been giving it a run for its money lately. And right now I really want to try the new Triple Chocolate Blizzard from Dairy Queen.

I am sure that there are people out there with very similar quirks and attitudes. However, I like to think that this combination, among other things, is unique to me. Call me a hipster or whatever other “non-conformist” label you kids use these days, but I love that I’m “not normal.” Also, I think that having pride in being my own person is important, and it is something that everyone should have. Everyone should be proud of who he/she is. Sorry, soapbox, give me one more, though…

I want to thank my true friends – the ones who want to know all these little quirks about me. Nowadays, there is so much drama and impersonal, technological bullshit that actual, personal connections are hard to come by. I am grateful for every one of you, because you make me feel special, you make me feel appreciated, and you make it so much easier for me to be me.

I guess that is the point of this post: Be proud of yourself and be thankful for those who make your pride possible.

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