I have too much stuff. I’m thinking about doing something drastic and getting rid of it all, starting from scratch. I’ve never done anything like that before, but I think it would be interesting. It will probably not happen until I move to another country, which can’t be until I finish emerson, which should be sooner rather than later, if all goes as planned. But still, I’m thinking about it. Who really needs all this crap anyway? It’s just stuff. It’s only important and sentimental if I make it important and sentimental. I’m tired of making everything important and sentimental.<\/p>\n
I have come to realize something about myself. I think. Maybe. It seems that I am much better off alone. I mean, it just seems that I be and do much better when I’m away from people I know and love. And especially away from my family.<\/p>\n
When I have faraway love.<\/p>\n
When I’m close (in proximity) to them, I eat too much, I complain too much, I watch too much TV, I get extra lazy, I am less creative, I am crankier, love myself less and hate everyone else more, I feel less hopeful and more cynical. When I’m away from love, when I’m off somewhere doing my thing, I am happier, healthier, funnier, smarter, snappier, sweeter, and with the perfect amount of cynicism.<\/p>\n
If I’m in a relationship or living in Tucson, I find it very hard to break out of that protective coating that I had wrapped around myself for so long. I dropped it easily enough in Boston, when no one knew me and I was just some girl named Christa living in Boston. But then I made real friends in good old beantown and I met Gordon and suddenly I wasn’t alone anymore. I had nearby love. And slowly things began to degrade and I started becoming that christa that I do not want to be.<\/p>\n
Of course, the real question now is who am I supposed to be? Is that dampened girl the real christa? or is the real christa continually being hidden by the over-christa in situations of nearby love? And what is it with love that makes me go so crazy?<\/p>\n
I am using a lot of stupid terms here: faraway and nearby love, real christa (vs some sort of fake christa?), dampened girl, beantown, over-christa. Who really cares though. It’s my freaking site.<\/p>\n
Here is what I think I need to do: move me and Ryland to someplace where it’s just me and Ryland. I love my friends and my family very very much. Without them, I’d be nowhere, with nothing. They support me when I stumble, which is quite a bit. But the great thing about them, but that gets me in trouble? They support me even when I’m not stumbling. That isn’t their fault, it’s mine. Because for me, when someone is there for me to lean against, guess what? I’m gonna lean. Even when I’m walking just fine on my own two little feet. Here’s the thing I discovered though, most recently in Boston: when I start to stumble and someone isn’t there, I’ll fall. And once I’ve fallen, I’ll look around and say “hmm. No one’s there. What to do, what to do.” and then I’ll get up and shake myself off and go on about my business.<\/p>\n
When I have nearby love, it’s nearly impossible for me to get up, shake myself off and go on about my business. When I have nearby love, I get complacent.<\/p>\n
Although, and this is something I was discussing earlier with a friend, fear is the one thing that makes people complacent.<\/p>\n
Hmm. So maybe the issue here is my fear of love. Which I know is totally lame and sooo 1990s, but maybe that’s why I get all funky in situations which require the use of my love muscle.<\/p>\n
hahahah, my love muscle. that is so dirty.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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