Day One

Here I am in a new city with unbounded potential although I'm not sure if city is the best term to describe my current living situation. Boasting a sizable 6,000 this town in the mountains is focused on attracting tourists and selling unnecessary baubles. Now I use the term "bauble" lightly, truthfully they sell more than ornaments but also truthfully you don't really need any of what they sell here. Not really, people come here to be with their family in the beautiful vastness of Colorado, right, not to purchase overpriced authentic "Native American" jewelry that doesn't have the certificate of authentication each Native American artist must place on their works to show the whiteman that a real human whose ancestors lived through the worst genocide this side of North America created it with their hands.
Or maybe its just the icing on the cake that white people get to enjoy salt water taffy, rocky mountain chocolate, ice cream and ethnic vendors in a gorgeous environment.

Why am I so cynical, because of one terrible moment in my life that has colored my glasses from a rosy hue to one of pure darkness.

I say darkness and yet this life compares not to those who have experienced true horrors. I digress, it's been happening a lot lately. I want to make a difference in this world, I want to be apart of the wonderful conversations taking place about race, lgbtq rights, humanitarian aid, new ways to treat depression, black lives matter, stopping climate change, saving the fucking animals and yet here I am being an angsty 26 year old living in a tourist town in Colorado complaining about one bad mistake and how it has forever changed me and really just victimizing myself. Yes I have taken responsibility for my actions and I have worked hard to overcome the bullshit but it all came crumbling down when my sister attempted suicide last year. But I can't blame it on her, how fucking terrible would that be--diverting my responsibilities onto a helpless 16 year old who felt the world was too heavy for her to carry anymore. So in order to be responsible about it, I just couldn't handle trying to bring others back to life when I so terribly still felt broken.
Then I had an affair and that was fucked up. I wanted someone to tell me they loved me and remind me that I am special. But that was not the healthiest way to achieve that goal. Nope not at all.
And like a fool I tried to follow him once they left my hometown and I took a job on a cruise ship that traversed Alaska's southeast passage, Costa Rica, Panama, and Baja California.
Pretty cool right? It took me about a month but I finally was able to let go of my angst and be present in these fucking beautiful parts of the world. How lucky was I? And yet I still defined my self worth on one shitty mistake. Although working on that ship with those beautiful people helped me realize I wasn't alone in what I deemed "fucking stupid".
They've been through similar shit as well, and I loved them for it. So why couldn't I love myself for the same? I finished the 6 month contract sad and simultaneously elated for it to be over. Because of course I thought with my vagina and my delusory mind and created a weird situation with another human. Because of course, I still hate myself so why wouldn't I put myself through a challenging situation like that? It isn't that bad, so why can't I let it go?

But nonetheless happy to be free I was back in my hometown and for a month I sulked and dragged my feet at how shitty my life felt. I was in the central valley of California and the contrast between Alaska's pristine air and California's filled with pollution from fraking was extremely difficult.

So I made the move to Colorado and it's been two weeks.

What have I done?

Been addicted to my phone and hating myself for it.

I thought I'd be happy once I was on my own, living my life and in the state I've wanted to live in since 2012. But no, I'm being really ridiculous because it's not the town of my desire and I don't have a degree to do any meaningful work and at the end of it I don't think I'm actually capable of accomplishing real work. I don't think I'm smart enough. How fucked up of me to view myself this way?

I'm dragging my feet and comparing myself to my peers who have graduated and live the lives they want.
When has that ever worked for anyone?
Never.
So this blog is to keep me in check.
I start my new job tomorrow, I'm a front desk agent at a lodge. I'm nervous because I don't want to bring my hateful energy to the place but fuck I just need to be present.
Practice mindfulness like my therapist said.
Get over this hump. I'm so annoyed with myself. How do I keep myself from picking up my phone, create a new pathway for that desire. What is my desire, to feel fulfilled.
I'm forcing myself to read about socialism, maybe Che Guevera's experiences can teach me something important about life. I hope so.
Until next time, fare well.