There is something pleasant about the mundane, and a routine: I wake up late, eat peanut butter on something (toast, rice cake, an apple), drive to work, think about how lovely the sun coming up over the river and the East side is and how I should take a picture of it every day and then compile them in chronological order when I eventually stop making this morning commute, arrive at work with a start and realize I've been day dreaming down I-5 and am lucky I didn't kill anyone, walk in late, plug in my computer, check work email, check facebook, check Gmail, sort of work, get a cup of coffee, go comatose, wake up around 5 and go work out, and so on. ("And I, know it well").
There is also something terrifyingly suffocating and sly about such routines- you stop feeling, and you stop trying to break the routine. To my credit, I have been pretty proactive about pushing myself to continue to experience new and different things since graduation, but it is still such a new way of life for me, relatively speaking, to not have any imminent "Next" move. I can plot a million different paths and talk them up to myself, and my friends, and my family, but in order for them to happen I am actually going to have to pick one and do it.
Sometimes, just to FEEL something real and present, I commit temporary suicide. Not the bloody or scary kind, but the truly self-destructive "I'm going to put this Bon Iver album on repeat until I break" kind of suicide. Going into something knowing it's going to HURT and succumbing to that, but looking forward to coming out the other side a little lighter. Reading a lovely book that overwhelms with sadness. Taking too long of a shower just to provide ample camouflage for a deluge of tears.
That kind of thing.
It's cathartic, more than anything, or can be if you make sure not to curl up in that awful little black hole of feelings and stay put. But a temporary retreat, to share in some passionate experience of emotion in lieu of a dramatic romantic relationship or otherwise emotionally draining arrangement, has proven to be a necessity for me.
A fix for the time being:
Blood Bank:: Bon Iver
Well I met you at the blood bank
We were looking at the bags
Wondering if any of the colors
Matched any of the names we knew on the tags
You said see look it that's yours
Stacked on top with your brothers
See how they resemble one another's?
Even in their plastic little covers
And I said I know it well
That secret that you know
That you don't know how to tell
it fucks with your honor
And it teases your head
But you know that its good girl
Cause its running you with red.
Then the snow started falling
We were stuck out in your car
You were rubbing both my hands
Chewing on a candy bar
you said ain't this just like the present
To be showing up like this
There's a moon waning crescent
we started to kiss
And I said I know it well
That secret that we know
That we don't know how to tell
I'm in love with your honor
I'm in love with your cheeks
what's that noise up the stairs babe-
Is that Christmas morning creaks?
And I know it well
I know it well
There is just so much I want to create, and do, and give.
I didn't know where to start.
So I am starting here: CellarDoor24 has a website!