Work

Some of you might know this already, but I am a costumer. Now I'm not sure I exactly deserve that title, seeing as I SUCK at it.

I know everyone is telling me to be more confident, but there is a difference between confident when your work is good, and being such when it is not. Unfortunately my work is not that good.

As in I can't sew in a straight line to save my life. And I am constantly getting in trouble for it at work.

And so I dyed my hair instead of finishing my dress...

Conversations with Myself

"You have to stop trying to prove a change to others, you are the only one you have to convince." She says to me as she lays on the overstuffed periwinkle blue fainting couch. Her dress is the perfect shade of purple to match the couch, with darker purple beads making swirling designs all over her body. She holds her head high, even when she is lounging. She is me, as I want to be.

With all the grace of a lioness she stands and crosses the lush carpet on her way to me. She turns me to face the gilded mirror. "You are who you wish to be." She says to me.
"Then why am I this way?" I look at my reflection, standing next to hers. I am plump and homely, my hair is in knots, and where it isn't tangled it is greasy and stringy. I'm wearing frumpy overalls and a sweat stained t-shirt underneath. Next to her I look even worse. I try to look away but she grabs my chin and forces me to stair my reflection down. "You can't run away from yourself, you are all you have in the end. " Her gray eyes look into mine, they are the same: ever changing blues, greens, and grays of the ocean.
"But it is hard, no one else wanted me, even when I was an innocent child, why should I want myself? I just want to be able to live my life, make beautiful things, tell my stories. Do I have to accept myself to do that, can't I just keep going the way I have been?"
"Tell me, how is that working out for you?"
"Fine, my life hasn't been so great, but its because everyone hates me!"
"Is that true? Because you know it isn't. You need to accept that you've gotten yourself in some bad situations and that has hurt you, but now it is time to hold your head high and move on."
"I've tried that."
"Yes, you have. But you need to keep trying until you are doing it all the time. It isn't easy, but it is worth it."
"How is it worth it? I'm still changing to please all these other people?"
"Oh really, who are you trying to please by doing this?"
"Him."
"You realize that he only wants this for you because he knows it is what is best for you?"
"Whatever."
"Look you whine about not having somebody by your side all the time, hes been there through thick and thin. Even when it was killing him inside. He loves you even though you are intent on hurting yourself and making yourself sick. And you think that he doesn't care. Just because he isn't Mr. Prince charming doesn't mean that he doesn't love you. And the only reason he wants you to change is because you are slowly but surely killing yourself this way."
"Am not."
"Oh really look at yourself."

I flinch as I look at my reflection, it doesn't belong in this perfect room, it doesn't belong here with this airy being. But this place is my invention, so why am I the only thing that looks wrong here?
"Fine. You win." I start to take things out of my pockets. All the ugly words that kids called me in grade school, the rumors from middle school, the death threats from high school, and the lies from college. I take their ugly bruised forms to the beautiful trashcan next to the desk. I hesitate as I throw them in, She places a hand on my shoulder, "Let it be." she sings to me and I let the memories float into the trash, along with all the pain and misery they caused. She smiles to me and hands me a match, I strike it against the box and throw it in. We stand for a moment, watching the tongues of flame lick away the ugly shapes of my past.
"And the rest?" She says.
"I have nothing left to burn." I am confused, I let go of the memories, what else could their be.
"You have yourself, the most important part."
"Oh." I blush. I start to strip out of the ugly dirty overalls, I throw them into the trash can. They give a satisfying crackle. Next goes my t-shirt. I'm standing in my underwear, but I'm not shivering.
"I meant all of it." She smirks. She has my dimple on my right cheek. I sigh, as I throw the ratty bra and stained underwear into the flames.

"There," She says as she guides me back across the room towards the mirror. "Don't you feel better now?"
"I guess."
She gently punches my arm. "Don't lie."
I sigh and punch her back. "Yes, I feel free."
"Good, take a look at yourself now."
I can't believe it, it is as if this perfect creature and I are twins

My long blonde hair falls just past my shoulders and skimming the tops of my perky breasts. My waist gently curves in and curves back out to some very lady like hips. My long lean legs have the look of pin up model. But my face is the most surprising of all, it glows with a beauty that no makeup can ever replicate, it is a glow of peace. My eyes sparkle with this revelation.
"Thank you."
"It is nothing." She smiles. "Just remember this takes work, it isn't going to be easy, you are going to have to get your hands dirty."
"When has that ever stopped me before?"
"Plenty of times."
"Oh shush you, I mean on my actual projects."
"Plenty of times."
I laugh, "Fine, you're right, as usual."
"You know it."
I smile.
"Look its time you start your new life. I'll always be here when you need me."
"Thanks."

I open my eyes and smile, the bright morning sunlight hurts, but it is a good hurt. It is good to be alive.

Yeah, I work out!

Lately this has been the time of doing. And I actually have been doing BEFORE I write something about it. Revolutionary concept I know. So what have I been doing you might ask, well I have been working out. I want flat abs baby. I have nice legs and a great butt, but I got some pudge around the tummy and you know what that is okay, but working out actually helps my depression! So I'm making a goal, I wish I could change my diet too, but that is going to have to wait until I can cook my own food. But you know what, I want to be stronger, I want to have that dream body. To be able to do the gymnastics I want to do.

Me, as an artist

Okay so the best friend sent me to this today. I've read the Ira Glass quote before, but I tend to forget it. Mostly because I choose to live my life in fear of judgement and failure. Rather than to push myself to  work towards something greater, because pushing myself like that hurts. There is this quote by the Marines, "Pain is only weakness leaving the body." I am unwilling to push through that pain of judgement and fear and to fight for who I could be. It is much easier to wrap myself up in the cloak of imagination, procrastination, maybes, and excuses.

In short, I am lazy and I don't want to work to be good at something. I want to wave a wand and be magically perfect at everything I try.

Today, my thought process magically stumbled onto why I am so lazy. I am not afraid of physical work, I can sit and knit, sew, draw, what have you for hours on end. Unless I am being pressured. Pressure makes me turn into a blubbering lump of a human being. Because pressure to me equals harassment and bullying. I have trained my mind to use fear as a motivator, negative reenforcement as a teacher, and pain as a reward.

So when someone says to me, "Hey Lilly are you going to be finished with those by 10, because we need them by then." I hear this, "Oh my god Lilly you are SO slow! If you don't get those done by 10 my personal feelings about you will be forever ruined and I will make sure everyone else hates you too!"

And then I go on to freak out about how terrible I am at this and how I'm never going to have it done by then, wasting valuable time wallowing rather than working. I am so afraid of making a mistake that I shut down and stop functioning. When I really need to do my best work and accept that it isn't going to be perfect. Sometimes people are going to be unhappy with you. All that matters is that you had an experience and you learned from it.

Untitled

You're life is not a movie. It is not a book. It is not a TV show. Your life is real, it is rugged, it is rough, it is honest and it is ugly. And these qualities are what makes it real. At least for a moment.

Because as soon as that moment is gone we start editing, we cut down, polish, and distress our lives into whatever we want it to look like. We get so caught up in setting up this perfect picture that we forget to look in the moment and appreciate it for the only true scrap of reality we have.

I'm not sure if this is why I hate editing or that I never write anything truly wonderful. Why I've trapped myself in this cage and wont explore anything outside of what I deem as proper. And I keep trying to break these mental chains and live my life. Yet somehow I'm still stuck here.

So I go on.

Cancer

So this is going to be a little bit sad. But I am nothing but an honest person.

I might have cancer, this wouldn't be such a big deal but because I might have cancer, it is likely that I will have to have one of my organs removed.

I will fight this, because that is who I am.

Lady

You know that friend who always has those crazy ideas. That is usually me. Though I typically just keep calm and carry on. Today is not one of those days. Today I had the idea of becoming a lady.

It is my own personal belief that only highlighting the virtues of gentlemanly behavior is rather sexist. And complaining that we don't attract enough gentlemen is just hypocritical.

So I intend to become a lady. Let us see how this goes.

Experiments

So I have gone off facebook for a month. I had my roommate change my password and then logged out. Mostly because I hated feeling like I am missing something. All these people posting on each others walls, being friendly, and me, just sitting there watching. It makes me feel so alone. So I've decided that I will fix the problem. So for the next month I will not be signing on, I've had my roommate change my password and logged out. Hopefully she doesn't do anything mean to me while I'm away.

Along those lines I've started making a checklist of things to do, trying to become more organized and feel better. Because this whole mopey depressive thing is ruining my life, and I have to get it under control.

Love is All You Need

I call bullshit. Love is most definitely not all we need. And some of you might say well no shit! We need food, we need water, we need shelter. Fine, I'm talking about emotional needs.

I had a really good conversation with my roommate about things that have been going on these days. What I want out of my current romantic relationship. I don't want to talk about it here cause he might still read this stupid old thing, but I'm not sure. Though I'm bursting to talk about it.

I'm bursting to talk about everything I've discovered. But I'm scared shitless that this is done. Even though I know life will go on. I am still scared because I'm finally starting to accept myself. I keep saying that, but I feel like the self is as deep as the ocean and we might never figure out who we totally are. And I'm okay with that. I want to spend the rest of my days enjoying the gift I've been given.

So here I am, debating if I should post this.