The Things I Want.

Life is all you make of it. I’m not sure I believe in predestination. I feel powerful when I make something amazing happen in my life. There is a vague sense of fate, sure — and I’ll subscribe to “everything happens for a reason” once in a while — but for the majority of the time, I feel like I am behind the wheel of this crazy tractor-trailer accident-waiting-to-happen life of mine.

So here’s what I want out of my life [in the immediate and distant futures]:

1) I want to be a writer. Not just a writer, because I suppose the fact that I write [like, right now] makes me a “writer.” More than this, though, I would like to perhaps make a living from writing. Yes, yes, I am well aware that it will be horrifically all-consuming, devastatingly heartwrenching when things don’t work out, and soul-crushingly painful most of the time. BUT. But. I have wanted this since I was 18 and first diagnosed with depression, when the words that enveloped any “logical” thought processes in my brain could only be cleared if I had a pen and paper and forced them out through through my hand. It is, has been, and will always be the most cathartic thing I can do, and helps keep me sane. Maybe it’s just a hobby. Maybe it’s a real talent. Who the fuck knows. But I have to try, I have to know which it is, and quit pretending that I will be happy doing anything else.

2) I want to be a singer. Like, in a rock band. Doesn’t have to be anything major — but how sweet would it be, right? “Oh, sorry, I can’t go out with you guys on Saturday night — my band has a gig.” Or shit, even to say, “Can’t hang tonight — my band has practice.” I like to sing — mostly in the shower and in my car, but in a former life I was a karaoke DJ. People tell me I sing well. I like to perform in front of people. I can dance. I just spent 30 minutes searching Boston craigslist in the “musicians” section. It seems feasible that I could be a rock singer. I’m going to work on this.

3) I want to move to Italy. At least for a while. I have to graduate first, because goddammit if I’m going to quit when I’m only 3 semesters away from my BS in psychology. But after December 2009, all bets are off. Who knows…maybe I will be a rock star/author and can travel anywhere I want…

4) I want to always, always keep my dreams in the forefront of my mind, and never let anyone or anything tell me I can’t do it — and never let anyone or anything distract me from these dreams.

Apropos to this evening — my first Pearl Jam show — here are some song lyrics that I think perfectly describe this:

The selfish, they’re all standing in line
Faithing and hoping to buy themselves time
Me, I figure as each breath goes by
I only own my mind

The north is to south what the clock is to time
There’s east and there’s west and there’s everywhere life
I know I was born and I know that I’ll die
The in between is mine
I am mine.

~ Pearl Jam, I Am Mine

Brain Explosion, Part I

Since I got home from Philadelphia on June 14, I’ve been working incessantly. Much to my chagrin, actually — I love having massive amounts of free time to doodle, dream, drink and craft [not necessarily in that order]. Oh, and sleep. But the money is nice, and I actually really enjoy my job — I was at the NBA finals game 6, and got paid to be there. Yeah. Amazing. Go Celtics!

Through all this, though, I’ve managed to bring my little orange notebook with me most of the time, and have made a conscious effort to write — since “writing” should be the necessary gerund of a writer wanna-be.

That’s right. I used the word “gerund.”

Anyway, I thought maybe it was time to get some of those thoughts out of the little orange notebook and into the Interwebs. Here goes.

From 6.11.08 Brain Explosion, Part I

What if I just sit here and write and don’t stop writing? Maybe something amazing will surface. Maybe I don’t need a prompt, or an idea, or even a start point — maybe all I need to do is form words with little strokes of this ink pen, until I form some that are pretty and make me sit back with delight and say, “Hmm, yes. This pleases me.” I know there are magical words floating around in my head. I can see them. I can feel them. I can even hear them. I think that means I am a little bit crazy — but like I said earlier, “I went crazy to avoid going crazy.” Sometimes all you can do is cope — and sometimes all you can do to cope to abandon that life you had before, abandon all hope of that future you wanted and gambled everything for, and lost — and just go running and screaming and jump into the arms and embrace this newness, this change, your new life. New direction. And tell yourself it’s OK — no, no. It’s good. It’s better. It’s an improvement over that unhappiness and self-doubt and holy shit, how did you do that for so long, and why, why did you squash yourself — let alone his squashing — why did you try to commit personality suicide?? Don’t do that, ever again! No one is worth giving up your you-ness. Don’t give up you! Don’t give up on you, either. And now, being armed and ready, I’m fighting for me now. Just me. And it is so, so great. I’m refocused. I see myself differently now, and do not want to go back into that fire — that sweltering, burning place that almost destroyed me before. I will only go into the fire for my dreams — I’m making them happen, one step at a time. One step at a time. One tiny step at a time…

Writing. Thinking. Putting it down.

THIS IS STEP 1.