Friendships, Relationships & All Sorts of Ships

(a past journal entry I really dig)

People usually do things to prove things. More so, customary things to prove that they are anything but, and that it is especially awesome because well, they are awesome. I've had time this break to reevaluate my actions and my thoughts, and everything that is mine. I came to the conclusion, it seems all my x's have a y. I'm going to give up this for lent because I am discipline and love Jesus. I'm going to write a blog because hey, I'm a good writer, so please read my stuff. I'm going to mention that I'm currently watching Science of Sleep and that is where I got my blog title, so respect me and my superior movie taste. The list goes on and on for hours I'm sure, and I'm going to bed in thirty. All this to say, I wish I was an actress....and had less y's.

A big fake x of mine is wanting to act. I'd normally go the musician route, but that is more easily attainable so I shall refrain. I think the x's (acts, lifestyles, image, etc.) that are so hard to reach are the ones most easily adored. I'm on a movie kick and just watched The Other Boleyn Girl. Granted anything with Portman you can count on me to be praising, but this movie had me on my knees. That wasn't meant to be ironic. Now you might be wondering why irony would even be relevant to anything in this paragraph, but if you don't, I'd suggest a brush up on world history might do the trick. I digress. I get too emotional and into good film/acting. I guess I want to be apart of endowing that kind of unspoken significance to someone. Though my acting career can safely be put in the, "too bad," box, I can't help it that every time Cho bumps into Harry, I cringe and wished it were me who was capturing a gaze from the handsome wizard. But I guess there are several reasons in this specific example...

Basically life sucks when you want something so bad and know it cannot be. And you can guess that it's not acting that I'm all sore about. But the idea of "it" just messes me up. The idea of anything that crosses my mind as satisfaction finds it's way to leave me feeling unsatisfactory. Tonight I lent every letter of the alphabet to two great pals who let me divulge about what I do want, what I think I want, and what I wish I think I wanted and was left with a simple response. Aspirations and ambition, wants and needs, and x's and y's are not silly and is irrefutable if the time spent scuffling the floor, was a time consoled with God. A second response from me followed:

I can definitely work on some re-scufflage.