So, in general, I’m not one of those writers who enjoys talking about how much they “just love the feel of a pen in their hand” or “the sound it makes when it hits the paper.” I think that shit is so annoying and is such a cheap way to try and describe the joy of writing.
Having said that, here is a notebook brand out there called Black n’ Red. And let me tell you, it has the most orgasmic paper I have ever felt in my life. The paper is so smooth, almost too smooth, as if I’m writing on an ice skating rink. At any second, if I cross my T’s a little too strong, my my pen could go flying off the page, careening across the room.
And I know… I just bashed people who talk like this. But you don’t understand! The feel of this paper! It’s unnatural. It’s the kind of smooth that can only come from a deal with the devil. Surely there must be evil forces behind something so glorious. Imagine touching something so pristine, so exhilarating.
When I touch the paper, I want to take all my clothes off.
Do I love this paper a little too much? Well…you haven’t felt it yet. Judge me only after you’ve experienced the pure carnal bliss of your finger against a piece of notebook paper.
Oh god, oh yes! oooooohhhhhh!!!!!!
Oh my… That was the best journaling experience I’ve ever had.
So, for anyone just catching up with this blog, I’m now a travel writer, and I love it.
The holidays were great, and making them even better was that I was riding on a cloud knowing that at the start of the new year, my next assignment was to take me to South Africa. Safari, cage diving, snorkeling, biking through vineyards, hiking….all of it. It was going to be the trip of a lifetime. I have never been to Africa before and I was so excited to visit “the cradle of life.” I mean, after all, it’s where the entire human race has its origin. I think it’s an important place for everyone to visit.
But then, America (along with Israel and other countries) placed a travel advisory on the country due to high levels of violent crime. And then, everything went to shit in Iran, and now Americans are being advised to be cautious when traveling anywhere. And so South Africa was like… you know what, we’re just going to put everything on hold for right now.
So I lost that opportunity.
And the backup trip for me was to Puerto Rico, which, not as exciting as South Africa, but it’s a gorgeous island in the Caribbean, and I could be escaping winter… so, YES PLEASE!
But then, the earthquake happened and aftershocks are continuing still… So Puerto Rico was like… you know what, we’re just goin to put everything on hold for right now.
And granted, this isn’t the worst thing in the world. It just means that until I get the next trip lined up, I’l be writing articles from the office. Which, trust me, I fully understand that my life could be so much worse. But still, when you get excited for something and you start getting all prepared, and then it all suddenly collapses… it sucks.
And it’s weird because, you know how there’s just a different feeling when you’re getting excited for something? Like, when you’re living in anticipation, knowing that something big is about to happen, you’re just kind of living on cloud 9 the entire time… That was me this month. I was just like, anything can happen and I’ll get over it, because South Africa is in my future.
And then, you come back down to reality.
So what to do? What do we do when things fall apart? When plans fall through? When we got our hopes up for something that didn’t end up happening?
Well, here’s what I’m doing to make myself feel better. Maybe this could be helpful for you too.
~ Treat yourself: I bought myself a slice of tiramisu, because why not?
~ Don’t give up: I immediately had a meeting with my editor to scope out new trips to replace South Africa. One setback doesn’t mean the end of the world… it’s simply a setback.
~ Spend a night being mad and dramatic: The day I found out that South Africa was cancelled, I spent the night eating Thai takeout watching a horror movie, and then did some seriously immature journaling about how much I hate the world… and you know what, it made me feel better, so fuck off.
So there ya go, hopefully that gives you some ideas of what to do the next time your plans fall through. And who knows, maybe this was for the best? Who know where my next trip might take me?
So my next trip is Rhode Island, and I’m leaving… tomorrow.
And I’m so insanely unprepared. I have never been to Rhode island, nor do I know what people do there. I hope it’s fun? I hope it won’t be lonely.
But, you know, this is the life. I’ve always wanted to be a real traveler. I’ve always wanted to get paid to travel – and now I have it. And yes, there can be times when you’re sent to seemingly random places and have no idea why – but that’s all part of the job.
I think I’m still missing home. This summer was rough. I didn’t know if my internship would turn into a job, and then I lost my apartment and had to move last minute. It was a lot. And all I wanted to do the entire summer was be to home. To be safe.
And I feel I haven’t fully recovered from that yet. It feels like there’s part of me that wishes I could go back and re-do the entire summer. I’d do things differently….
But I need to look on the bright side. I made it through. It was rough, but I have a job and I have an apartment. I survived it. Somehow. Someway. I did.
So, the INFJ is often referred to as the “advocate” or “counselor.” We’re also known for having “callings” or “vocations” rather than just believing that one day we will geta job.
And I have to say, this is so true for me. And I’m wondering if this is true for any other INFJs out there?
If anyone has read this blog for a while, you probably know the story of my journey. I ran away to LA because I really wanted to make movies that would inspire people, that would change world, and that would help the underdog. Growing up, all I heard was “You’ll fail.” and “Do you know many people actually success in that industry? Get your head out of the clouds.” and “One day you’re going to have grow up and get a real job.”
But I never did. I never did grow up. I never did “grow out of it.” The concept of working a 9-5 job that I hated simply for a paycheck was just never enough for me. The thought of spending a life working at H&R Block or something, feeling unfulfilled every single day, left me feeling nauseous, depressed, anxious, and upset.
I then spent a bunch of years running around, trying to find myself, “trying to grow up” and be what everyone thought an adult should be, and it all went horribly! I wound up working in retail, hating my life every single day. Wishing I had a life with meaning, with purpose, and with excitement. I got working holiday visas to Australia and New Zealand. Hoping that, if I had to work boring jobs…at least I could do it in a foreign country. But of course, just when you think you’re safe….
My misery got so bad that I broke down and my years of depression and fear for the future exploded into an uncomfortable wave of anxiety and panic disorder that lead to me becoming agoraphobic while working in a foreign country.
Long story short… It’s taken many, many, many years for me to ACTUALLY grow up, and do the most adult thing possible – Find myself. Know myself. And know what it is I’m meant to do in this world.
And that’s THE EXACT SAME THING I’VE WANTED TO DO SINCE I WAS A KID.
I want to tell stories. These days, the stories are a bit different from when I was a kid. After the years I spent collapsing from panic attacks, killing myself slowly with depression, and the period where I was even too afraid to leave my apartment… my stories obviously now tackle issues like mental illness.
And I’m not in film. I’m a writer now. But I love it. And I love being able to reach out to people. I love being able to inspire people. I love that my voice is being heard. I love everything about it!!!!!!!
So, I guess , here’s my thing – Yes. I’ve always felt like the advocate. And I’ve always felt like I’ve had a calling. And I was told for years that that was a sign of immaturity.
AND IM ASKING WHY????? When someone wants the world (and to help the world) Why is that met with hatred? With disgust? With the idea of “Oh, that’s childish.”
And the other thing I’m asking is, do any of there INFJs out there feel this way? Does anyone else ever read the personality traits of INFJ and just be like… Holy Fuckballs That Is Me To The Core!
And I guess that finally, the other thing I’m saying is this: People suck. And I honesty (and unfortunately) believe that most people don’t live the lives they want. They settle because it’s easy. Because it’s less scary. Because it’s what those around them are telling them to do. So when they see someone who really goes for it – who grabs life by the horns – I think it makes them jealous, and angry, and probably even a bit insecure about their own life, which then makes them (and perhaps even subconsciously) try to put people down in order to not feel so bad about themselves.
So, what that longwinded paragraph is trying to say is –
IF YOU FEEL YOU HAVE A PASSION,
GO FOR IT!
The world is yours, take it and blow it up! (metaphorically of course)
~ The Dark Horse
(Was the proofread? I mean… I suppose you could say that)
Everyone, I have horrific, tragic, deviating news!
I’m…. I’m… (chokes up).
(Breaks down into tears)
Oh, it’s just truly the worst thing that has ever happened in the course of human history. My glorious apartment in the heart of the Upper West Side will be gone. How will I even go on? WHY SHOULD I EVEN CONTINUE LIVING????
And do you know where I’m moving to? Oh, lord, I can’t. Iliterally. just. can’t.
I can’t even tell you! No! It’s too difficult!
Ok. Deep breath, you can do this… Just say it quick, so it’s out in the world.
I’m moving too… The Upper East Side!
I don’t think you understand. Upper West Side people just aren’t like Upper East Side people. We’re a different breed. I feel like a traitor. I’m going to live on the other side of Central Park.
Upper East Side people are just petty and emotionless. Joan Didion, my absolute least favorite NYC author lives on the Upper East Side. Gross!
I mean, did you ever read ‘Goodbye To All That’?
In the essay, all Joan Didion does is bitch about things and makes mountains out of molehills. She talks about her time in New York City like as if it’s life and death.
That’s the kind of person who lives on the Upper East Side… people who are overdramatic drama queens!
Oh my God, I can’t even believe this. Will I need a passport to visit the Upper West Side now? Is the Upper East Side even part of Manhattan???? I may as well just move to New jersey at this point. Or Wyoming. It’s all the same.
Ugh. I can’t even fathom living around all those delusional, self-obsessed, melodramatic people of the Upper East Side. I should just drink poison like in Romeo & Juliet. That’ll show em.
Fucking drama queens.
Please, pray for me in these trying days to come, I’ll need them…
Oh, Mr. Journal Editor from the workshop today…. Oh, oh, oh, you poor, poor thing.
To anyone out there who doesn’t live in my head and needs context for what’s going on – Today in my writing workshop an editor from a literary journal came by. I read to him the first few pages of an essay I’m working on about my time hustling in LA.
I was told “While I would probably continue on past the second page, It sounds like anyone could have written it.”
A true story about running away and having sex for money to avoid homelessness can simply be written by anyone?????
ANYWAYS... So, I contacted my editor today who has been helping me with this story. I think it’s great. And I think it isn’t written in a normal way at all. In fact, one of the critiques I regularly receive about my writing is that it isn’t normal enough. I’m told I’m too causal, I cuss too much, It’s “like I’m having a conversation with someone.” (which, to me, is an honor, because that’s how I want to write.)
So, I just revised the essay a little bit. I streamlined that shit so fuckin hard that NOBODY can say it isn’t worthy of publication. It’s funny, it’s sad, it’s scary, it’s real, it’s perfect.
It’s time to get revenge on that stupid journal editor.
I’m going to get that published. This will happen. Vengeance will be mine. A flame has been lit inside me. A flame you don’t want to fuck with.
I’m going to get this essay published because I know it’s good. I’ve worked hard on it. It’s worthy of being read. Let’s do this.