I want to stop hiding. I always hide. I look at the floor instead of at people. I hide behind my hair. Invisibility. I want to be seen but I also find it uncomfortable. I put on a cliche face & appear open but there’s a thick glass wall between me & everyone else. I’m tired of wearing masks. I’m tired of not being as colorful, as bold, as cool, as vibrant, as alive as I can be. I go out but I don’t want anyone to see me even though deep down, I crave being seen. I want people to know me. There’s nowhere left to hide. I want to be so authentic that when other people see me it makes them feel braver. I want to give them permission to shine like the brightest star too. I want to stop only posting manufactured, manicured posts to social media. I want to stop showing only the “perfect” things. I want to share what it’s really like. I want people to see who I really am. Even if they don’t always like it. I’m tired of playing small. It’s bullshit. I’m every color of the freaking rainbow, & I’m going to stop being afraid of showing it.
MASTER OF MY WORLD.
I want to be the master of my every moment. The master of my universe. To be the one shaping my world, designing & molding & manifesting exactly what I want. I’m tired of my subconscious fears & anxieties & limiting beliefs controlling what happens. They don’t know how to drive. I’m taking the wheel back from them. Taking away their licenses. My car, my rules. I want to create the kind of life for myself that I deserve. In sync with the Big Universe out there, co-creator & collaborative artist & lover. To both be the one in control, & the one creating & tapping into the flow that I effortlessly skate along. To let that flow guide me. To be able to create real magic for myself. To love myself, truly & deeply & completely. Like we did when we were children. Before we learned how to hate ourselves.
HUGE POSITIVE IMPACT ON THE LIVES OF OTHERS.
I want to be a really, really kind person. I want to be used as a force of immense good in this world. I want kindness to be the way I change the world for the better. I want to be the kind of person who gives huge tips at restaurants. The kind of person who shows up with a car filled with dog food & cat litter at the animal shelter. The kind of person who shows up & writes a huge check for a local charity. Who makes care packages for the homeless & handmade cards for lonely in the hospital. Who creates places & opportunities that empower other people. To do my part of throwing the starfish back in the ocean.
LIFE REALLY IS MY PLAYGROUND.
Life is supposed to be fun. I get caught up in the stress & boredom we’re conditioned to feel as adults. I fall down onto what they tell me adulthood is supposed to feel like. The drudge. The dreaded Mondays. No more time to play & breathe & explore. But they’re all wrong. Why was dancing invented if we were all supposed to be so serious most of the time? Why does it feel so good to be happy if we’re supposed to despise at least 33% of our lives? I want to lean back in the swing & look at the pure blue sky. I want to lie on my back in the meadow & see the shapes of dinosaurs & flamingos in the clouds. I want to sit at the end of the ocean & build a moat to protect the sandcastle, & I want to start each day with dancing. It doesn’t take any courage to hate Mondays or to be dragged into the rat race, but it does take courage to play.
COMPLETE FREEDOM TO LIVE THE WAY I WANT TO.
I started the year focused on becoming a millionaire. As if that was the be all, end all. But it never was enough to keep me focused. Something was always missing. I was afraid. If I wanted to succeed, I had to make my goal about HOW I WANTED TO FEEL & not just how much money’s in the bank. That’s what the journey is actually about. I want to know what it’s like to live my life exactly the way I want to. Because if you don’t have a foundation, where’s your hustle? Where’s your hunger to push through & make something happen if you become lazy in success? I want to build a life that’s mine & on my terms. Complete, beautiful freedom. The concept of “millionaire” is part of that, but not all. & “millionaire” doesn’t (won’t) feel the same to me as it does to numerous unhappy others. Money is amazing, but it alone isn’t solid enough without a good foundation under it. That foundation is the underlying lifestyle & story I’m going to design for myself. Otherwise you end up a stressed, cynical millionaire. & that’s not what I want to be.
I want to be free. What do I want my life to look like? What would my life look like in a year if I loved myself truly & deeply? How would I dress? What hairstyle would I have? How would I make money? Where would I live? How would I spend my time? It’s my responsibility to build the life I want for myself. Living in complete freedom is living like you love yourself completely, truly, & deeply. I want to make my life biggest, most beautiful art project.
- Resting & restorativeness are very important. Days off spent doing fun things, with no agenda & no clocks ticking evilly in the background reminding you of the impending returns. You cannot always be running around & constantly hustling if you are to keep your sanity. Working on it slowly, pacing yourself so you don’t get burnt out. This is all that matters in the end: you will get where you’re going.
- Their fights don’t have anything to do with you. Sit there in the corner with your ears plugged making obnoxious noises if necessary, but do not think for one minute that what they argue about has anything to do with you.
- I don’t let the mean, petty, obnoxious, or passive-aggressive things that people may say or imply about me hurt me. Sure, I may get pissed about it briefly, but I know that what they say isn’t true. They cannot know me; therefore they cannot truly comment about me, & if they do, what they say holds no water. It isn’t true, & I know that, so I breathe out a sigh of relief. It doesn’t actually have to do with me at all. I have the brick wall surrounding my castle now, & know they are not worth it. Not when he mocks me, or she insults something I have done. I am separate & immune from the stones they throw at the wall. This applies also to the fights above.
- MINIMALISM: it feels so, so good getting rid of the expansive excess. Every time I throw something out it gets a little bit lighter & easier. I look deeply forward to the day when everything is as I’ve wanted it to be; where only the essential, the useful, & the beautiful things remain surrounding me. I do not have to be owned by my possessions anymore.
- Their phrase about the evil of boredom & the joy of creating & building resonated strongly with me. I like that culture of living too.
- Black cherry dyed hair. Skateboards. The strange animals with their strange faces that you find to be perfect. Pink elaborate tulle skirts. Zines. All these things are important.
- I have plenty of time.
- Flying a kite on the beach felt timeless. There really are few things in life as satisfying as flying a kite as high as you can on a beach when they weather is perfect.
- The philosophy of parkour, surmounting all life obstacles & physical obstacles with as little effort but as satisfying of a reward/outcomes as possible. Doing it the easy way but the worth it way. See: Restorative.
- Making an effort. I did it before as a punishment, didn’t I? To try & show them my displeasure in a visible, physical way. I felt like a wilting flower & I wanted to show it off. Sometimes I am a martyr. I like to exemplify my own suffering. But I can’t do that anymore. For my own sake. Putting in the effort, showing up. The hair color, smooth & silky. I put on better shirts & better accessories that actually said something. I stopped hiding inside the folds of the jean jacket & turned my real face to the sun. I started reading & writing & listening to the sweet dancing of music. I started trying.
- Fruits & vegetables are good. I crave them. They make me feel happy & healthy.
- Happiness is oftentimes a choice. Either way, in any situation you have the option of choosing to do something that will make your life more: magical, happy, serene, reverent, sunlight. You can choose to open the curtains, or listen to a really perfect song, or run out into the rain & dance, or think about something good. You are just like the rest of them if you fall into the trap of being dark & dissatisfied & cynical. Cynics & liars laughing, indeed. Remember the song. Your favorite, as a kid. How you feel in every moment is your choice. If it’s lame, you’re the only one to blame, but also the only one who can choose to do something different.
- I want to feel that relaxed, creative, peace-of-mind way that it implies. Maybe then things would be easier.
- They clapped & laughed in the dark room & the monsters ran away.
- Gnarly: the act of doing something potentially painful but ignoring the potential pain & (intelligent, thought out) risks in order to do something freeing.
- It felt deeply freeing; I felt it welling up from deep inside the depths of something much more expansive & deep-seated & hidden behind the fronds of ferns, then it was a supernova & the sorrow evaporated from the flowers. Then I saw the Freedom Meadow expand once more; it had a garden of blooming flowers.
- I only got what I wanted when I stopped feeling lonely & danced, joyous & reverently, at night under the moon with the music playing. The next day, they called me & said YES.
- I want his work ethic. He tirelessly did things he enjoyed & made money. He seems happy now, so I guess he did do what he wanted.
- I must get more used to being uncomfortable. I want the things that make other people fall into mediocrity, the things that exhaust them, the things that make them complain & lie prostrate on the carpet powerless to be the very things that make me invincible, strong, powerful. I want to turn the curses they throw at me around & change them into sunlight that melts vampires. I want to turn the chains & empty lies they bestow on me on their heads & change them into something that works for me.
- The full moon was so big & so bright that at first I didn’t think it was the moon. When I realized it was, I still couldn’t believe it was actually the moon. I’ve never seen it so big or so bright. I stared in meditative reverence & felt profundity. I looked at her through the scope & saw the bumpy, cratered edges. It looked like maybe I was there. I loved it. The moon & I are kindred spirits.
- You really can have it all.
It suddenly hit me, as I saw the piles of unread magazines & unworn clothes, unused digital photo duplicates, uneaten food, & unused, useless belongings. Why the hell is there so much stuff? It had accumulated, over the years, & now, it didn’t actually matter anymore. Piles & piles of it, in my living room, in the closets, on the counters.
Part of the problem was my tendency towards over-sentimentality towards things that I own. I feel inclined to keep certain belongings of mine because when I see them, I’m reminded of the exact place & time of memories involving that item. I’ve started photographing these items, because I’ve realized that keeping the actual item isn’t important to me remembering it. Seeing it is enough to spark these memories. As The Minimalists say, “The memories aren’t in the things, they’re in me.”
The second reason is that I have a deep-seated fear that if I get rid of things, I might need or want or miss them sometime in the future. Even if they’ve been sitting in my garage in a box for the past five years, I still feel that way. Logically, I know that I don’t actually need it. My life has been just fine without it, & I haven’t missed it. I also know that there are incredibly few things I’ve ever gotten rid of that I’ve missed, & magically, I’ve been able to live without them anyways.
Yesterday, I threw out the three essentially empty bottles of the same scent of lotion that I used when I was 16. The smell of them was linked to one memory of mine. But I realized I don’t need the lotion to remember. The memory is in my mind, & on paper where I wrote it down. Today, I eliminated a rubber snail that was damaged by sitting in the sun too long, toys my dog never liked, & two purses I crocheted when I was a teenager but no longer used.
Earlier, my mom helped convince me to get rid of a skirt that I wanted to get rid of but felt obligated to keep. “That’s not your style anyways, & you already have a few long skirts like that one.” I put it in the bag of clothes to donate. I scanned & threw away random paper mementos that were only kind of important to me now.
Throwing out stuff & letting go of it is scary, but very, very freeing. I’m looking forward to making more progress.
I want everything I own to be my favorite thing.
from my upcoming book, “Not a Dime a Dozen”
I effortlessly fell into the same coping patterns I always reached for, although they had never served me well. The days started feeling like running through an ocean of mud. It exerts you, but you never get anywhere. The other thing that stood out to me suddenly was the stark white walls of emptiness. It was much too silent, & while the sight of the finish line had given me something to look forward to, it was only a mirage, & it faded when night fell. This sensation grew in the moments when everything was rushed towards the redundancy of another day, & no one spoke, or at least could not be heard over the roaring cacophony of quiet.
I wondered why I always found myself at the same crossroad at night, with the familiar darkened road & the street signs impossible to make out in the darkness. The road forked off into multiple pathways, & the pressure of choosing the right one felt as random as having to pick the door the magician’s assistant is really behind. I had made choices that I thought would make things better, but the porthole door in the sky scooped me up & deposited me in the same place, week after week, & the same feelings always found me again.
It reminded me of the memory album I’d looked through a thousand times, even though each time I asked myself why I romanticized my own pain so greatly. Was there really anything beautiful about acting as the tragic figure I’d written myself to be, but never really wanted to become? I wondered what my childhood self would think of me if she’d met me now, & if she’d be pleased by the accomplishments I’d achieved, or discouraged & fearing the inevitability of often sunless days & starless nights that were ahead . I had worn these feelings like a comfortable coat, returning to them when the expanse of everything else I could do instead of this seemed too much. I resorted to it & then reveled in it, sometimes feeling as if even in the darkness, my so-called vulnerability was nothing more than another part of my facade, put on for the show of it in an attempt to control the ways others saw me.
I felt the cool waves of an infinite ocean washing up over my feet. The sun rested upon the horizon, neon-pink & hazily vibrating like a mirage. In these moments, there was no yesterday, no tomorrow, no more haunting Mondays. She told me I was getting the same way that I was the last time this had happened; what was that supposed to mean, & how was I supposed to feel about something I couldn’t help myself from feeling? At least I was trying to dig myself out from under the rubble of the fire, & didn’t that count for something?
When I saw my reflection in the mirror of her face, I reeled back. The crystal ball on the mahogany desk informed me of the shrouded sunlessness that the road I had chosen contained, & provided a glimpse of the person I would one day become if I did not turn around. The papers on the walls clearly spelled LEAVE NOW, & the flapping curtain by the open window communicated in Morse Code TURN BACK. I suddenly knew that it didn’t matter where I went or which road I chose, as long as it was different than the one I was on. I fled from the office & slammed the door behind me, vowing I would never go back.
Instead of admitting that I am afraid of courage required to step into my own self & create the kind of life I want to live, I use my own sorrow as an excuse. Wearing it & melting into its folds is easier than becoming someone new. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to disappear & reappear somewhere else, my slate cleaned & my future open. To do that would be the easy way out; it is not necessary for my freedom, & I do not need to wait for the bells to sound with the validation that I am allowed to liberate myself.
It was only on the forbidden drive to the city that I felt the shifting of soil. I felt acutely the changes blossoming & fading into existence, & the rubble on top of me finally being cleared away by my own doing. Beams of sunlight fell around me on the ground, & in the breeze with the music & the effortless swaying of trees, it was the first time in a long time that I finally felt normal. A preview of what is to come. Freedom was that essential code by which I knew I needed to live by, if I were to ever fully realize what things like happiness & hope meant. What I had been doing was the exact opposite, & I was growing tired of my old patterns & sorrows & habits. What had once been a darkness I relished & lovingly extracted every ounce of pain from now became a song I’d never liked but heard play too many times on the radio. My old standby patterns weren’t beautiful & tragic – they were just boring, & didn’t allow half enough time for me to merely exist & simply be. Too much of it was shrouded in routine & in monotonous pandering to the politics touted by over-idolized figures I wanted nothing to do with.
If I were to have more days like this, where I felt the pure, unadulterated & fluttering joy of existing in the world of my exact choosing, I would have to summon the bravery to brush myself off & keep trying until I made it. This time, I would stand at the darkened crossroads in the night & I would not be afraid. I would pick the road leading in the direction of the same breeze I’d felt on the beach & in the city, one which wordlessly murmurs of home. When I find all the good feelings I thought I’d forgotten, waiting for me somewhere along the path, I will be able to trust once more in my ability to prevail, to create this for myself, & to thrive.