I'm writing from the top of my head here.
There is prevailing sense of annoyance, dissatisfaction, and discomfort. It originates from several places, none of which I feel the need to explain or even identify as of yet. Or ever, really.
I have been endlessly planning for a future that I am not sure is going to please me should I make it a reality. It is so easy to think what we want will make us more comfortable, more satisfied, happier, freer, but as I continue through life, I realise that success is quite anticlimatic. It is not the destination - it's the journey, they say. Am I enjoying the journey? Somewhat. I say somewhat in the recognition that the answer to that question can neither be yes or no, yet that word "somewhat" is somehow grossly inappropriate.
I have been constantly reviewing and changing myself, though the changes are minimal at best. They have been mostly in material terms - how I live, how I look, but also in how I respond to certain situations. I almost typed "personality" there for the last bit, but that certainly would not have been true. I am absolutely positive that any change in my personality would not be on account of any conscious effort of mine. Because this is a conscious effort.
The inspiration behind the need to change (albeit so slightly) was elicited by an odd mixture of a raging inferiority complex, and a stifled superiority complex as well - superiority in that I feel that I am above, somewhat, the people who live around me - with their powdered necks, and narrow minds. It's a shameful feeling, and one that I am not so certain is true or "fact", but one that is present nonetheless. The inferiority was provoked by the endless physical competition that prevails through the middle classed populace.
I cannot fathom why these women walk through the streets of Port-of-Spain on a Saturday - just to shop, or walk around - strutting in their 3 inch stiletto heels, professionally done make-up, manicured nails, and pedicured toes, cleavage pushed high, hair held precariously in place with pins and hair spray. Maybe I would do the same if I really did not wish to take that extra 45 minutes getting ready and spend it sleeping.
But I resist. I've made no attempt to wake up extra early - though I have begun paying closer attention to having better skin, and better hair (though not neater hair), better clothes, and more shoes (I have so many shoes now!). But sometimes, I rebel - like today - I neither combed nor brushed my hair, bunching it into a high, messy one, threw on an old, strappy jersey, a pair of MALE jeans (meaning that they are not fitted whatsoever) that are older than I (belonging to my uncle when when he was 12), and a pair of flip flops. And that was my unkempt presentation at class.
I feel annoyed that I have to periodically enter this competition to "fit in", not have other women look down at you - because some of these bitches do, and to attract someone who I consider worth my time. And then there is the personality that will stay that attraction. Unfortunately, I cannot change that, and I have no intentions to anyway. But because I am so... socially singular... (that's the new term I have coined for myself), I understand that I have to watch what I say, because not everyone is open-minded, and not everyone would appreciate me for the strange individual I tend to be.
And like I said, I am looking toward a future, that I believe will be better, but am worried will not be as good as I hope it to be. Like Friday. I remember reading somewhere about a girl who loved Fridays. No, not the weekend - not those two fleeting days, that are never as well spent as you would like them to be. And before you could make the most of them, they're gone and it's Monday again. But Friday - so full of possibilities of what can be done, and full of relief for surviving what has passed. The anticipation. It's always better than the reality.
The journey.
And here I am, still feeling annoyed. I am writing this on a Sunday night, but it really feels like 11:59 on a Thursday night.