Thanks Sista for bringing this Daily Prompt to my attention. I was super inspired by your post as seen by the fact that I
stole borrowed most of your list!
Are you a male or female?
Bitch – Meredith Brooks
How do you feel?
Skipping Stone – Amos Lee
Describe where you currently live:
Virtual Insanity – Jamiroquai
If you could go anywhere, where would you go?:
Empire State of Mind – Jay Z feat. Alicia Keys
What is your favorite form of transportation:
Act a Fool – Ludacris
Your best friend is:
Pretty Woman – Roy Orbison
You and your best friends are:
Count on Me – Bruno Mars
What’s the weather like?:
Purple Rain – Prince
If your life was a TV show, what would it be called?
The Lazy Song – Bruno Mars
Your current relationship?
Someone Like You – Van Morrison
What is the best advice you have to give?
Conversations with my 13 year old self – Pink
Thought for the Day?
Beam Me Up – Pink
Your motto is:
The Things that Stop you Dreaming – Passenger
Today’s Daily Prompt is: Tell us about your favorite pair of shoes, and where they’ve taken you.
My favourite pair of shoes are my black Jimmy Choo pumps. They’re not particularly exciting: a standard enough pair of pain black, pointy toed pumps. For me, what makes them exciting is what they represent. These shoes were my gift to myself on my 30th birthday. Ever since I was a university student, sitting in my rented flat-share, watching Sex and the City with my flatmates, I have wanted a pair of JCs. To me they represented a life I knew I wanted: an arrival at a position in your life, a declaration of independence and adult-ness. And on my 30th birthday I finally had the resources to buy them and the occasions to wear them. Their representation of all these things would have been diminished had somebody else bought them for me: the whole point was that I was finally in a place where I could achieve this purchase for myself.
As they sit in my wardrobe, carefully stored in their velvet bag, they might seem like a total waste to anybody else. But not to me. If I wore them everyday their “specialness” would be diminished. Because wow, those shoes have taken me to some momentous places: the took me across the lobby of the Mandarin Oriental for my 30th birthday dinner; they took me down the aisle to stand beside my best friend as she married Mr Wonderful; and they took me across Wall St to watch one of my oldest friends take his vows. For me, these shoes not only represent the acknowledgement of an achievement at a point in time in my life, they continue to represent all of the special milestones I’ll never forget. So every now and again, when I spy my shoes sitting patiently in their box, waiting for their next outing, I remember those days that have passed with joy and wonder in excitement at what their next outing will be.
Today’s Daily Prompt is: Write an anonymous letter to someone you’re jealous of.
Dear Everyone Who Is Not Me,
You walked past me on the street yesterday. I doubt you even noticed me. But I noticed you. Your confident walk. Those designer sunglasses. A uniquely crafted handbag swinging by your side. Your beautiful outfit – stylish but not trying too hard, just right in fact. As if you had been let in on the secret style formula that constantly evades my grasp. By comparison the “cute tee” and jeans combo I chose this morning is decidedly “mumsy”. I hate the way that my hair sits three weeks after my haircut; no matter how hard I try I just can’t get it to look like it did that day in the salon. I never seem to be able to find such unique accessories, I always make the wrong choice & choose a bag I grow to hate or an impractical clutch. I envy you.
You sat across the crowded pub from me last week, surrounded by your friends. You laughed in all the right places, a real feel-it-in-your-belly explosion of mirth, not a fake insert-laughter-here chuckle. Your friends listened to your stories, enraptured by your obvious wit and brilliance. You hugged newcomers and kissed departing pals, confident in your place in your social group and surrounded by those who enjoy your company. I never seem to be comfortable in social situations. Am I talking too much or am I saying too little? Are my stories interesting? Is that a look of polite boredom on the faces around me? Fatigue creeps in all too often and I long to return to the solitude of my flat, to my undemanding but understanding internet friends, away from the social minefield that is every bar and restaurant. I envy you.
We worked together on a project last month. You were assigned to share your expertise while my team learned from you to improve our work. You are so intelligent, so knowledgeable and so articulate. Your ideas are innovative, yet profitable. Your style is relaxed, yet persuasive. You had my colleagues on the edge of their seats, torn between missing a word that you said and scribbling copious notes lest they forget any of the wisdom you were imparting. As a fellow female in a male-dominated industry I silently saluted you. I will never sit where you sit. I lack the business acumen and the ability to articulate my thoughts in such a logical and convincing manner. I could never persuade others to believe in me as you have, regardless of the value of my ideas. To pay just to be in the same room as me. I always seem to get in my own way, doing enough to be appreciated but not quite enough to stand out. I guess I’m not destined for professional brilliance after all. I envy you.
I’ve just returned home after dropping my sisters at the airport after a weekend visit and I feel….uneasy, I guess is the best description. Waving my sisters off wasn’t about to send me into a spiral of depression but it was definitely a sad moment, especially knowing that I won’t see them again until November. For the first time in many years I don’t know the daily ins and outs of their lives, as busy schedules and the ocean between us challenge communication styles. My life decisions have meant that I am now removed from their lives and I foresee no situation in which I will return to the proximity we once enjoyed and even took for granted. In fact, it is likely that my life path will mean that our meetings will become less frequent and my status will become increasingly that of “visitor”.
I am acutely aware of all of this and yet all I feel, sitting in my now strangely quiet house, is a sense of something being “not quite right”. The medication I take so that I can enjoy the wonderful life opportunities I have been given have a flip side – just as efficiently as they destroy the Down they also destroy the Up and the In Between. It does not distinguish between emotions. SSRI is not a fancy name for an administrative system that sits in your brain, filtering emotions and deciding which ones to file in the “okay to experience” pile. Instead it is akin to a joke I saw once, where somebody had placed a shredder directly under their letterbox – every emotional signal received is shredded irrespective of type or your ability to cope at that given moment.
I’m torn between knowing that this medication is vital for my life and my lifestyle and wanting to experience the depth of emotion that I know is within me this morning. Or any morning. Is this a signal that I am recovering? Is my mind telling me that I can cope with more? Or are these the thoughts we are warned about when told not to stop taking our SSRIS – that once we begin to feel better we should not mistakenly label ourselves as “cured”?
I don’t know the answers. But today I have a hell of alot of questions.
A recent Daily Prompt was: Pinpoint a moment in your past where you had to make a big decision. Write about that other alternate life that could have unfolded. My thoughts on this one are slightly different to the brief, so I hope you can bear with me.
What’s so bloody wrong with the road well travelled?
When did being on the common track become such a bad thing? I wonder if this obsession with being different has been popularised by people for whom “abnormal” isn’t an option? People who have the luxury of taking normal for granted, people who never have to aspire to normalcy because they are already there. I don’t feel like a lesser person because I have what some would consider very boring life aims:
- Be successful in my chosen career
- Have a healthy, happy relationship
- See my family as often as possible
- Maintain contact with my overseas friends
- Enjoy my chosen hobbies & make time to pursue them
This might seem like a boring list. Even now, in my current balanced state of mind, my instinct is to keep adding to the list so that it seems like I live an interesting life…surely this can’t be everything I aspire to! But that’s today. Tomorrow could be a different story. At a moments notice my depression can rob me of my ability to achieve even these most basic of aims. I care less about my work, I avoid contact with family and friends, I can’t be bothered picking up my creative or technical projects.
If life is a journey then achievement of our own personal aims is surely our destination. Personally, I like to think of myself travelling down the highway, with occasional detours to see something interesting or to take a break from it all. And even if I sometimes get lost, I’ll always find my way back to the highway in the end.