Because I'm at work.

I have so many thoughts in my head, and I really want to write, but I'm an adult and I'm at work and "work" today is really just me procrastinating. And I kind of hate it.
Not my job, I love my job. But I would function so much better if certain things were different, but I have no control over those things.
And since I have to look like I'm working, I can't easily bust out my journal and appease this longing inside of me.

Now I have 5 blogs on blogger alone.
I also have 4 Tumblr's.
I have Facebook.
Twitter.
Instagram.
etc, etc.
Yet I want none of these.

I want the pen in my hand and the paper underneath.
I want the medium where my words aren't shouted out to the masses as soon as I finish writing.
I want to put my thoughts in that secret place where I can admit thoughts and feelings free of judgment or someone trying to "fix me."
Just because I feel doesn't mean I need to be fixed.

I'm just a twenty-six-year-old, trying to navigate her way through this life she has, all while trying to do her best not to piss people off.

A big part of me wants to delete Facebook all together.
I'm tired of having everyone else's lives thrown into my face every other second.
Telling me all the different ways I fall short and how much I'm not enough.
I only keep it for two reasons:

1. My photography page has turned into an important connection for clients.
2. It fills time at work.

I hate #2 as much as I'm sure you were amused reading it, but it's true. 

I hate it.

I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

Why is it that so many work places don't have enough work for their people to do?

I know I'm not the only one with this issue, and honestly it's weird.

Having to do something pointless simply because you need the money is one of the most frustrating things.

I hate doing pointless things, especially pointless required things.

I dream of one day occupying my time with things that I'm actually passionate about, or at least mildly interested in, and not having to worry about the paycheck it does or doesn't bring.

What is my life and why is it this way?

That's a loaded question with a novel between the lines.

Sometimes I write things.

I hope you can understand my random bouts of classical music and writing and deep feeling.
Of things I can't explain but that encompass me wholly.
Of illogical mumblings about impossible things that are so real to me.
And now I sound crazy.
And maybe I am.
But I can't imagine me without these things.
It pulses through my veins, begging me to keep living.
To rectify all those who have endured before me.

This isn't just me, but about all those who have lived and died this way.
Who could have given up, but didn't.
Who faced hell and walked or ran or crawled through.
This is about carrying on what they fought so hard for.
This is true humanity.
This is what it means to live.

Hi.

It's a new year.
I haven't had much to say
Cause this year has been somethin'
But I didn't want to be all negative nancy on you guys so I haven't posted much.
Just journaled.

So, hello! Welcome! We made it to another year! That is saying something, so congratulations!
You're going to do great things this year! Look at you, already 20 days in! After tomorrow, it'll be 21 days, and they say it takes 21 days to make a habit.
I don't know who "they" are, but they sound smart.