A Lack of Focus and Energy

"You should understand that literally every small thing is a fraction of your energy. Take a practical view of the situation and only delightful things that you can make use of into your new life. The you approach your belongings, ask yourself: 'Do I want to keep this energy, or should I let new energy take its place?'"

I read this quote from an article on the Brightside a couple of months ago, and it resonated with me. Every little object in my possession sucks up my energy. That screw that I put in my jewelry dish that I have since done absolutely nothing with. That stack of papers that I can never seem to remember to sort. The clothes in my closet that I haven't worn in ages. The things that held little to no value to me, the things that I wouldn't notice if one day they vanished from my life, have been weighing me down. This was a sobering thought. So--I started selling my things. At first, I admit it was mainly for the money-teachers don't necessarily go into this profession for the end-of-the-year bonuses and raises after all. But as I continued to sift through what I decided to keep and sell, a foundational shift occurred. I simultaneously started to feel lighter and heavier all at once. Lighter, because, according to my quote and the rest of the article, and, you know from research and sciency evidence-- less stuff. Heavier because--selling things is kind of a pain in the ass sometimes. As I continue going through the layers of my life, I am constantly finding objects that no longer serve a purpose. Since July, there has been a fairly consistent stream of people buying my things as well as me uploading new things to sell. And it is continuing. My bedroom, bathroom, and dining room feels like a workshop of things I have set aside to get rid of. I have developed this habit of looking around and finding something new I can get rid of when I have spare moments. I'm not planning on slowing down or stopping until I have found an equilibrium of energy that feels less soul-sucking, and more peaceful. Yes, peace is my goal. Creating a haven is my goal here. 

The First Step: My Introduction

If you looked at me, you wouldn't see a minimalist. I don't consider myself one, and it's not my ultimate goal. But honestly, the thought of living with less stuff is appealing to me. I've spent my entire life as a consumerist:
The more stuff, the better.
The more clothes, the happier I'll be.
Let's go shopping... I'm bored.
Let's go shopping... you're bored and I want to procrastinate.
There's a dress at Target that I have to stop everything I'm doing right now and go buy immediately.
I'm a little tired of this, so I'm going to go to Marshall's to see if I can find something similar but better.

These thoughts drove my life.
Until one day, a thought started to churn inside my full-overly stressed out- never empty- ever thinking- unable to shut down- anxious little baby noggin.

"Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful."
-William Morris

What if I could apply this idea not just on my house, but my entire life?

I never talked the talk (until now), but I just simply started to walk the walk. About a year ago, I started selling my belongings. The thought of making this life change in one fell swoop was frightening. I'm more of a "doing things in levels" kind of gal, which, I think has worked better for me in the long run. Doing this as in a slower paced processed has really allowed me to rethink everything that I own. Every bowl, every trinket, every piece of clothing that I own. And wow. I have a lot of stuff.

But that's another story for another day.

"You need a hobby that isn't Netflix."

Netflix, I think we need to break up. It's not me, it's you. Well, maybe a little of it is me. I mean, you're great and always there when I need you, and we can still hook up on the weekends when I'm bored and it's late, but for right now, I think we need to cool off for a while. Sorry. You're great when we're in bed together, but now my books are feeling a little neglected, a little jealous. And I think spending time with you before bed is making it harder for me to go to sleep, which, is a serious issue. You were great in the beginning, but now you are taking over my life. And I want my freedom back.

This week I tried something new for me. A little scary. A little wild. I watched one episode of Bob's Burgers, and then...I turned the TV off. For real. I needed to concentrate on....you know...any of the 500 things that normal people have to think about during the day, and having the usual background noise was just messing with my brain waves. I'm not going to lie and say that I had a moment of clarity in which I realized how toxic my Netflix addiction has been on my work-life and that I've now vowed to kick my Netflix habit completely, because...well..I mean, come on. Because NETFLIX.  But honestly, it just felt...weird. It was quiet. I'm not quite sure if my discomfort was caused by my tinnitus or because I've become so accustomed to the constant drone of the TV in my head while I try to work. I did realize that I had a better focus, and could work for longer periods of time. I wasn't constantly, annoyingly, boredly, checking my phone, going to Pinterest, clicking back and forth between the 20 tabs open on my browser, spending as much time working as trying to remember what I had been doing or what I had been looking for before something shiny on the TV distracted me. I wrote e-mails, worked a little on my Coursera homework (more about that later), and input some grades. Like an organized, have-my-shit-together human being. It was nice. If I have ever been that person, I haven't seen her for a long, long time.

So now I'm a little inspired. A friend gave me a planner that had the quote "She designed a life she loved" on the front. And now it seems like every time I close my eyes I see those words. Such great, simple, powerful, meaningful words. Finishing grad school, getting new jobs, (hopefully) moving out soon, this period of transition has me thinking about the person I want to be and the person that I am now. Let me tell you, they are NOT the same person. On top of that, I discovered recently that Gretchen Rubin (who wrote The Happiness Project) just released a new book about habits. I haven't read it yet (What's reading a book like, again? I seem to have forgotten...also, can't remember when I last used my library card), but I've reflected a lot about my habits, and which ones I need to change (spoiler: there are A LOT OF THEM). First things first, my focus needs to be more...focused. Working on that has been the first step to getting more done, and designing the life I want. And with all of that extra free time, maybe I will begin my procrastinated search of a new hobby.

So Netflix, I don't think I'll be seeing as much of you for a while. But don't worry, we can still be friends.

Orange is My New Life

Looking for jobs seriously blows. But now it's just getting depressing (and let's face it: boring) listening to myself whine about not having a job. So let's just avoid the subject entirely, shall we?

However, within the deep abyss that makes up the day-to-day of being unemployed (okay, maybe I can't avoid the subject entirely...) there is one small comfort: I've finally jumped on the Orange is the New Black bandwagon, and I'm never looking back. There's nothing like finding the perfect TV show to properly parallel your life.

(Side-note: I heard that watching The Walking Dead is also pretty entertaining when you're at home all day filling out job applications, but I would actually recommend that show when you're going through boy drama (or girl drama too, for that matter). Nothing like watching people maim walkers for hours on end to give you an ounce of hope that vindication could come by way of a zombie apocalypse...)

Now, I'm not necessarily trying to compare my life to being in prison (although the irony that they are in prison does not escape me-- that's another story for another day...), but the feeling of being stuck...being stuck and not being able to do much about it...is super relatable to my life right now. And on top of that, the pure gold of some of the quotes in the show. I mean seriously, how perfectly this quote fits my life is...just is:

"I know I should be feeling thrilled right now. I'm in print. I'm young..-ish. And I'm healthy....also -ish..I'm alive. I'm a living, breathing thing. And it's really, it's overwhelming how lucky I am. But yet every night, I go to bed, I have this gnawing feeling like what I've got is not enough. And every morning I wake up thinking that the feeling will be gone...but it's not. Does that make me a selfish, fucking ungrateful douchebag?"

My mind has been a broken record of thoughts like this since April.

Also, Regina Spektor sings the theme song, and who isn't instantly transported back to 2005 when they hear her voice? And, I can't help but talk about how I love love loooove the fact that we see the crap that each character went through before prison, and yet everyone is an asshole. It just makes me giddy with the feelys and puts a little giddy-up in my step. It makes it more realistic, which, for me, adds to the watchability (I've taken enough linguistics courses to think it's okay for me to make up words every now and again).

So that's it. That's my life right now. Hey, I said this was a creative outlet for me. I never said that I would write about things that were actually interesting....

Day 1

My life has been a series of bad decisions.
Don't get me wrong, there have been some good decisions in there too. I'm obviously not in prison, I have no (serious) addictions to report, I have no baby daddy drama (or baby daddy for that matter), and my childhood didn't scar me in an irreparable way. Overall, I've been pretty damn lucky. But what sane person writes that as the first line of their.... blog? future book? planned parenthood brochure? and thinks "Yep. That sounds about right. I wonder if 4:45 is still too early to open up a bottle of wine..."
A normal person would/should/could think "Geez. I need a new outlook on life." Or something like "I wonder if I should call my therapist to set up an appointment." Wouldn't they? I wouldn't know.
So here I am. Writing out my life story. I'm not exactly sure why. Let's just chalk it up to a creative outlet. Like all of those stay-at-home moms usually declare in their first blog posts or sidebar blurbs.
"Happy mama of three and proud wife, living the dream and loving life in North Carolina! I like baking and crafts and glitter and blogging! Thanks for stopping by! Xoxo"

As a recent graduate (and mighty dramatic human being might I add) it took about 3.74 seconds after walking off the graduation stage for my life to fall apart. I'm 26. Desperately single. I live at home (like home, home...like with my parents). And I have no (full-time) job.
At one of the countless lingerie showers I attended a few days ago, the hostess did what makes every fatkid's heart go pitter-patter. She brought out the most glorious looking cake I've ever seen. It's the sole reason I suffer through all of those pre-post-wedding-house-warming-baby-gender-reveal-lingerie-couples-bridal-bachelorette-shower parties: the cake. Seriously, you think I actually want to ooooo and ahhhhh over a piece of fabric and string that, according to the tag, is apparently lingerie that you will probably wear for 4 seconds before your new husband (who you've been having sex with for the past three years might I add) rips it off before jumping your bones?
Umm...no. I'm here for the cake.
So. The hostess cuts into the cake. It's so thick, I begin to drool. When she pulls the knife out and picks up the first piece, my heart sinks a little. It's not chocolate. Chocolate makes my world go round. But, no worries, not the end of the world. I can handle that minor setback. Yellow cake is still cake, and it deserves to be eaten too. Finally, I look down and a piece (a corner piece=LOTS of frosting....mmmmmm...) has been handed to me. I take a bite....and...nope. Something is wrong. But what is it? I turn to my friend sitting next to me and ask, "What's in this...is it coconut?" "YES!" she exclaims, taking another bite. Disclaimer: I hate coconut. If there was one flavor I abhor the most in any dessert, it's coconut. I have texture issues, flavor issues, coconut issues with coconut.

So that's it. That's the big secret to the name of this blog. And it's a perfect metaphor for my life.
My life is coconut cake.