I was looking for a blog because there is too much going on in my brain for me to keep to myself. I tried making vlogs, but the editing process was too complicated and I ended up getting discourage. Other blogs were too complex with their filters and categories and scrolling and browsing. I just want to type what I'm thinking about and post it. Maybe I'll stick around here if it doesn't totally suck.
I say it's complicated, but I'm really just looking for basic stuff.
My thoughts come and go so quickly that I forget things and lose track of them easily. It's chaotic. And some people like to be clever and put "OrganizedChaos" as their usernames, but I'm even more clever. I'm JustChaos. There's nothing organized about me or this blog. So don't bother trying.
I started looking for a blog because I was pissed off at something or feeling pensive. That's how it really started. A diary is for my secrets, a blog is for my thoughts. I couldn't use my Facebook because I use it as a medium of communicating with my friends or my more short and witty thoughts and raves. I tried Livejournal, but it was too distracting.
I still wanted a place where I could get my thoughts out where I knew people would be reading and purposely looking for long walls of text- unlike some websites (Fuck you, Twitter), but with all the anonymity the Internet can provide.
So, here I am. I'll type until I'm dry. Until my whirlwind of thoughts and ideas has settled. At least until next time.
I've been reading a Star Trek fanfiction, Kirk + Spock, mind you. It's called Secret Vulcan Mating Rituals. It's a lot deeper than the title suggests. It's basically Spock going through Ponn Farr and Kirk is like going through some sort of search where he's looking for someone who can tame him. There's this whole thing about Psi-ratings and Taurus IV and bondage. Lots and lots of bondage. And it's this insane psychological warfare that brings a whole new meaning to the definition of "love". I didn't completely grasp it until the very last chapter of the first book. Love, in Kirk's mind, is someone who's need to take control and dominate balances his need to let go of himself and unleash. It's intense and has got my brain blended. I'm glad the author is done with the first book so I can take a break from the mental strain of the story and get back to reality.
My imagination can be too vivid sometimes. I think I think too much and I don't think like other people, either. I know I can't tell if I'm thinking the same way other people are, but I can tell by the way people act. The way they do things they don't want to, things they don't have to do. The best example I can think of is my mother. She's way too selfless, but she never breaks. Her childhood wasn't like many. She was 7 or something when her parents divorced and all she had was her mom and sister. Her dad was cheating on her mom with another woman who had my uncle, but that's another story. My grandma was working all the time and my aunt was too busy misbehaving and being rebellious. My mom could have easily done the same and just let the house go to shit, but she didn't. She cooked and cleaned and managed the household while her mom was working. Her best friend was wealthy and grew up with his rose-colored glasses. She never resented him. She never had any truly awful feelings towards anyone. And she still doesn't. She may dislike people, get fed up with people, but never any true negative feelings towards anyone.
She got married and had my older brother when she was 18. Her dream to be a veterinarian was virtually destroyed, so she became an oncology (cancer) nurse. My mom married a 35-year-old man, had his child, gave up her dream (I was honestly surprised she even had any), relocated halfway across the country to be closer to his family, but never gave up. After she had my sister, she divorced and moved away again to a small, shoddy town in Pennsylvania. She met my father and fell in love. What did he see in this single mother, new in town, completely separated from her family and with few friends? I'll never know. He's dead. He's been dead from plasma-cell leukemia. Cancer of the blood.
Not only does my mom have to put up with me, working two jobs, supporting my musical dream, three pets, a hysterectomy, and being 50, it seems Fate has been working against her by striking down her husband with the very thing she's fighting to prevent, thus making her a single mother for the second time.
This sort of thing never happens. At least I don't think it does. We don't live in the ghetto. Not me or any of my siblings have a drug problem or run around in a gang. It completely baffles me how my mom survived so much pain and disappointment. She deserves so much better than me.
I love my mother. The very thought of losing her makes me cry. The world has been so horrible to her- I have been so horrible to her, and the best part is: She doesn't even know it. Her endless spouting of love and joy overshadow any backward glances to the past or what could have been. I have yet to find another mother as awesome as mine.
I wish I could think of something more conclusive to say, but it's 3:08 AM. I'd better sleep know. I'm drained all the way through.
