I'm beginning to see now, finally, that everything that I thought I was was completely incorrect. Self-analysis is lame - it traps us into moments of pure self-conceit and paranoia, when really, all that we're pondering over ultimately leads to little tiny nuggets of theoretical information so inconsequential and trivial to society and, really, our lives.
But yet we still do it, maybe to get that sense of stability, maybe as a step ladder to understanding the world as a mirror - because, really, if we can't figure ourselves out, how can we even begin to even try comprehending the world around us?
So here I am, I guess - my moment of self-conceit and paranoia. Mostly paranoia. And many of you who might be reading this will probably ask, "Why bother posting this on a blog? Keep these thoughts to yourself, Jessica." but really, it's my blog, and you can tune out if you want. But mainly, I think I need someone in this gigantic cosmic space to tell me that I am wrong, I am over-thinking, over-simplifying the human complex, and worrying about nothing.
The problem is my restlessness, and my fear of rooting myself in too deeply. I got into journalism in the first place so I could travel around the world, stay in each destination just long enough to get a rhythm going and then cut out. I went to Montreal because I needed to dive into an unfamiliar pool and surround myself in people who knew nothing about me. I live in a mess, and I prefer the books and clothes and whatever else thrown around carelessly in the room than to live in a place of order and organization.

I've always thought that fear of commitment was a cliche, an excuse for people to go around and have sex or whatever to whoever they wanted, whenever they wanted, without the responsibilities of life bogging them down. But here I am, scheming for days about how to "get" the guys I'm interested in and slinking back the minute they show any hint of interest. I focus more on the careful build-up, rather than the big story itself, and consequently, I'm already gone and running before the story's even over. And I can't explain why I do this, why I panic as soon as their mouths are on mine, or why immediately after, I feel the urge to get the hell out. The first time it happened, I thought it was just because I was inebriated and didn't even like the guy. But now, looking back, it's happened a few too many times than I'd like, and I'm only beginning to see the trend.

Recently, I was very formally asked out by a really nice, great guy, and rather than dance around and leave him hanging like I normally do, I decided to just accept. And there's no risk, it's a coffee and a conversation, and if there's no attraction then at least I've got a good conversation buddy and it'll be peachy, but why am I already worried? I don't even know what I'm worrying about, but every time I'm on the computer, I feel like messaging him and postponing the offer, going, "Oh, Monday's no good for me after a while. Man, this whole week is really brutal for me, what with exams and stuff...". It's the strangest feeling, to panic without cause.

Please, someone tell me that this is normal, that people go through it all the time, I'm just experiencing a bout with insecurity, and I just need to get real and live my life and not dwell on these problems. But I hate feeling like this, and I hate thinking of myself now as a cheap tease. Someone even called me on it once, turned around and went, "Jessica, you fucked with my mind." before leaving, and all I could do was stand there, with my breath catching in my lungs.
I think I do need to grow up, and cozy up to the hope of stability.
But seriously --- what is wrong with me??


Ugh.

That's all I have to say, you guys can ignore this if you want, but if you who really knew me before this mess want to offer your words and insights, I'm all open. I promise next post will less self-absorbed.

And oh: songs of the day ---
Amsterdam - Guster
Gold To Me - Ben Harper and the Innocent Criminals
Around The Sun - R.E.M
No One Else - Weezer