Stormy night

Spring has arrived, and as they say, April showers have begun to buffet the Midwest. It is thundering now, and I can hear the sudden downpour.  It is a time of contemplation.  It is a time of meditation and purging and cleansing…

It is time to write again.

It struck me that I haven’t written in months, yet my mind has been many places worth writing about.  Physically, even, I’ve been many places. My life as a guest speaker in the aquarium club circuit has taken off, and so I’ve been traveling. Not to terribly exotic places, yet, but even engagements around the state have me on the go enough to be exhausted.  So much to see and to do; always. I’m…terribly exhausted, in general.  On top of my usual mental woes, I’ve discovered a nasty OCD habit worsening.  Now, I look at my food wistfully, as if it weren’t actually in front of me and ready to consume. As if it were in the pages of some 50’s cookbook I scanned once upon a time. There’s this mental block, and I struggle to get around it to stay alive at times.  Which is highly detrimental. I require my energy reserves now more than ever.  The brain can be a fickle thing.

It strikes me in my quest for human contact, a particular thought this evening: I am a stubborn woman.  I am incredibly stubborn.  I know I should look after my basic needs above all else, yet here I am, all ambitious and junk.  Choking on an oreo cookie, because the nerves have gotten to me. I feel like the walls are closing in and I’m running on fumes, at times.  At other times, I feel so happy and accomplished and fulfilled.  That is not now.  Right now, like any other stormy night, I am lonely.  I’ve a trusty cat companion, who provides sweet kisses and not-so-sweet mischief.  But I’m stubborn, and stubborn women rarely submit to men.  It’s a shame, too.  Because I really thought I liked men.  It is a manly thing to be dominant, and I refuse to submit to even my own physical limitations.  So why would I submit for a lover??  I won’t, though nature almost dictates I must.  Human nature cannot evolve fast enough…Not on this night, and probably not ever.

I ponder what my life will be one day. I never imagined it would be what it is now.  For instance, I never thought such basic things like eating would be a challenge or that I would be on a wait-list for anxiety treatment while simultaneously booking talks and trips.  It may be telling, however, that I often think I wouldn’t be alive if humans weren’t so prone to saving their weak.  I think my body is frail, and my genetics not the best. Though I consider myself weak in many regards, I am not the slightest bit reserved in my convictions.  This is apparent. There was a time I might’ve changed myself for a man, but I didn’t. Now I know I couldn’t.  Though women being strong willed and empowered is encouraged nowadays, it still doesn’t solve a residual dominance men expect to exert. They subconsciously desire dutiful women who look pretty for them and bare children. The reality may be that I scare men off with my convictions and stubbornness without even trying. If that’s the case, I suppose I could imagine more cats in my future….

Stubbornness will be the death of me.

 

 

 

 

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The Trick of Perspective

I could be an average girl of 21.  I very easily could.

This is my lingering thought.  I have pursued affection, but it doesn’t find me compatible.  So I play with fish in my bedroom.  But that would be a given any way you look at my life.  It’s a near constant.  In the equation of Heather, F is the constant “fish”…..

 

Okay, silliness aside, I’m getting at something here.  I see the merit in being an average girl.  Doing…girl things.  I find myself at a crossroads as of late.  My unconventional situation has made a lot of other things inconvenient.  Friendships, love…..

What cannot be grasped of a girl who loves to keep fish?   Compared to one who loves to ….

Well, what is the comparison?  Truly, every girl is different.  But a lot of things get lumped into the “girl” category.  This includes everything from obsession with looks to disgust with bugs or an unusual adoration for babies.  I could care less about my looks most days.  I love bugs!  And human babies…well, not my cup of tea, but all right.

 

So I don’t find myself distinctly “girly”…and neither do a lot of others, evidently.  And the more aware I become of this contrast, the more I silently abandon people.  But I need them!  I need people.  At least every once in a good while.

 

Should I cry out, I find people do not always feel as harshly towards me as I perceive.  In fact, people enjoy my unique qualities.  9 times out of 10.  That still does little to soothe my countless evenings alone.  When I read of people who are just the best of friends.  but how?  When will that be me and another human?  I hope soon.  Then I recall.  The best thing to love is yourself.  I love me.  I have real things to focus on.  And the positivity I’m dumping down the drain with a frown!  So….sad.  I feel at once aware of too much.  Too much or not enough?

 

What does it take to function, I wonder.  When the irrational fear of death plagues every waking hour.  The only thing of searing certainty is that I’m drawn to keeping aquariums and animals.  Quite possibly because their inner workings are not hard to follow.  From this perspective, I do not see myself bringing much upon the world.  Fish keeping is such a silly thing to devote to, when the hobby itself serves little to human advancement.  It doesn’t nourish us.  It doesn’t house us.

 

I see benefits, when I’m not clouded.  It keeps me well, and maybe that’s enough.  But purpose is not something I feel deeply.  Maybe fleetingly.  Maybe the trick of perspective is that tomorrow I will be a new me.