Jessica Jones is a Masterpiece and I'm Really Tired

It's 3:51 am and I'm sitting in my room listening to this and dreading work tomorrow. I have a 2 to 10:30 shift, but I'll be at the mall by 12 because of my shitty bus route. I hate living outside of the city - I feel like I'm always mentioning that, but I really do. It's a half an hour walk to the bus stop, and at the halfway mark there's this dead raccoon with it's innards spilling out that I have to cross the road to avoid, and I'm tired of all my music but haven't had time to download anything new, so it's also boring as hell.

I guess I can take advantage of being early tomorrow by doing some more Christmas shopping. I still need gifts for my brother and cousin, and the gifts I got for my parents and best friend are incomplete. I also might buy lunch. But maybe not. Because I always feel guilty spending money.

My dad paid for this new laptop, so I owe him about 600 dollars, and I should be saving my money for that, on top of gas money. I don't know. It's really hard being poor. I'm sure most of you already know that. And it's not like I'm destitute or anything. At all. But I make 10 bucks an hour and I'm only working seasonal and gas is expensive and I need so many things that now that I have money it's pulling me in different directions - I need to pay my dad back. I also need new clothes. I also need stuff like medication and hygienic products I haven't been able to afford for a long time now, and I'm also supposed to be saving up for my passport, and for a phone, and it's so hard to try to balance everything I need to do on this budget.

So that's where I'm at this week. I got some work done on SOSAS, and two short chapters drafted on A Darkness So Divine, and that was fun. I wish I could write more. I wish I wasn't near-dead every time I came home at night.

For now I'm fitting anything in anywhere I can. It's hard, and it's making me feel guilty that I can't make more time for it, but on top of work and my commute and generally being a human (eating/sleeping/fighting mental illness) it's harder than it should be. But I'm going to do this. Because I have to do this. Because I've wanted it since I was ten years old and I don't think I'll ever want anything more. I don't think I'll ever love anything more than I love words, and the way they twist together on the page until I'm lost and everything else that I'm worried about doesn't matter, because at least I have this escape.

When seasonal is over, and my last semester of school is over, I'll be able to devote the time to this that it deserves. Until then, I'll have to keep scrapping by writing whenever I can squeeze it in, for an hour here or thirty minutes there, between shifts of working and sleeping.

And trying not to slap customers in the face when they snap at me for shit that isn't under my control.

Ah, the joys of retail.

Anyway, when I'm not working, writing, or sleeping, I've been watching Jessica Jones. I just got Netflix, and I was so excited to get to start watching this show - it hasn't disappointed me. I'm only on episode 7 or 8, but it's amazing, and it's making me appreciate David Tenant even though I hated him in Dr. Who. To be fair, the only one I actually enjoyed was Christopher Eccleston. I mean, Matt Smith is really handsome and sweet, but I can take or leave his Dr. And I hate the current one almost as much as I did Tenant.

But he's brilliant as Kilgrave. I mean, this show scares me. It's been pretty disturbing at times, and I've even teared up at a couple of points (to be fair, everything makes me tear up these days- movie trailers, good songs, book endings . . . maybe I'm turning into a softy) but still, I'm addicted.

I also ran down to the book store on my break and bought a copy of Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo. I'm sixty-eight pages in and loving it, and me and the clerk had a nice chat about the Darkling, which was fun. I'm always blown away when I meet a book lover I share favourite series with in person, because that never happens.

Also, hmm - Kilgrave and the Darkling. Can you tell I'm fascinated by amorality?

My obsession for dangerous sociopaths aside, my obsession with herbal tea just made me spend 10 dollars on a pack of 12 gourmet tea bags from David's Teas. I grabbed a 12-pack of Buddha's Blend - it's a mix of white and green tea, and it's fucking delicious - but still and hour of work for 12 tea bags. Ugh. I have a problem. My excuse for buying both the tea and the book is, basically, yolo. I'm gonna die someday, so I might as well take pleasure in the small things while I'm here.

Because on some level I know that no matter if I become a famous author, or a pilot, or a marketing guru, or end up homeless and forgotten, no matter what happens to me, if - when - I die some day, these small moments will be all that's left of me that really matter. Having fun with my friends, shopping for gifts for the people I love, taking the first bite of a takeout lunch I probably didn't need, buying a new book just because I crave the words in it that much - those small moments are more important than anything else. And I appreciate my end-goals and I want them more than anything, but I also need to be willing that life is long and short and awful and we don't always get what we want. If I get hit by a bus or die in an unexpected fire tomorrow without ever writing all the books I want, I need to know that I can be happy with the life I've lived. So I'm not trying to forget about my goals, or forget to live while I'm alive, but I'm also not going to forget that sometime it's okay to enjoy the moment and stop worrying about the future for a bit. I have a lot of guilt to work past when it comes to doing things for myself and my mental health and happiness, and I need to remember that it's okay to do things and invest in them just because I enjoy them.

I take comfort in the fact that I'm living with my parents until after I've been out of school for a year, so I have plenty of time to make money and save up, but I still get nervous thinking about the future. Like, what if writing doesn't pan out? What if you're stuck on the same daily grind of day-job, home, write, sleep, wake up, work, write, sleep, repeat, repeat, repeat, for years? What if it's always this much of a struggle to live?

And I understand that that's my anxiety talking, but it's still hard to fight sometimes. So I also take comfort in the fact that no matter what happens, it's all life, it's all experience, and it's all valuable in the long run.

Even now, looking back, some of the memories I value the most from my life are from the times it was most difficult. Because even though I'm struggling, I'm also expanding.

So yeah. That's my mind lately. Tomorrow morning I will wake up and go to work. I'll finish up some Christmas shopping and come home and work some more, and I'll put all of this worrying out of my mind and do what I have to, but at least for tonight, I'm letting myself be anxious. I have to feel it to move past it, so that's what I'll do.