I don’t know what I want. Or, I’ve been telling myself ‘I don’t know what I want’ for so long that it’s now manifested and is the only semblance of truth I have because I do not know what I want. Or, I think I don’t know what I want. Or, I do know what I want and I am scared of it. Or…
And I hesitate to say I hope by writing this, I will figure out what I want by the time I add the final full stop, before hitting “Publish” or whatever, before I don’t spell-check this article. But I know that’s not going to happen. Or it might. I certainly don’t know.
When I read things people write, it seems like they’ve all got it together. And I’m here to tell you I am writing this and I do not have it together. I don’t know even know what I am going to type next. Barely. I will even time this so you know how long it takes me. It’s 1:46 AM right now. Still going. I’ve only taken a few seconds to stop and think of something else to say. So that’s good, I guess. I just went to check my iMessage. Nothing new. Which I already knew because if I had a new message, it would have popped up on my screen, but alas.
But let me make this have a point. How do I even function every day if I don’t know what I want? That’s a great question. The answer is: I have no idea. Surprise surprise. I find things worth living for, I guess. I just got back from LA, maybe an hour ago. It’s 1:48 AM now. And there’s a lot to live for out there. But that’s other people. What about me, and what I want? The last time I was in LA, I heard my name so many times. Literally, LA was calling me. Now, I don’t know if I ignored it or I just haven’t answered the call yet. I’m doing one or the other. But maybe not this time.
Anyway. The joy of not knowing what I want is that I can do literally anything and see if I like it or not. Pass me that baby, I’ll raise it till it’s 1. Gimme some coke, my dude. Let me try beets again. Maybe I want to be a plumber. It’s not that extreme, but you get me.
There are a few things I learned on this trip I want to do:
1. crack my heart open. my capacity for love is very, very small and i have been functioning way under capacity. it’s crazy. i felt that shit so hard.
2. secret affair project i ain’t telling y’all about yet.
3. operation barbados in 56 days so get in better shape.
4. get rid of clothes that don’t make me feel glamorous, beautiful, sexy, or comfortable
5. bless and purify the new stones i just bought and was gifted.
6. read big magic by liz gilbert which i pretty much finished on the plane
7. work through feelings of guilt, worry, and being forgotten
8. $$$ to go live in LA.
9. complete calling in the one.
so okay things to do. and if they don’t give me pleasure, then i stop. that’s it.
sigh. it’s 1:53 AM. nothing is clearer. and that has to be okay because that’s what it is right now.
i have two windows open, both of which i’m writing in. I’m turning into one of those people that apologizes for everything and i hate that. accomodating. it sucks.
im at the end of this. i still don’t know what i want. all the time. and here we are.