thesearemymonologues

[thesearemymonologues]

Susan Abulhawa, from Against the Loveless World: A Novel

[Text ID: “I wanted to be chosen, maybe loved. I wanted out of my life, out of my skin,”]

[thesearemymonologues]

Opportunities

American films have shaped our young minds in lots of ways. We have this notion of our jobs being such a big part on our life, on how we ought to work in something we'll make a difference at, on having some sort of calling. But many of us don't have a clue about what we're supposed to do when we're 16, 17 or 18. And even if we have the slightest idea, sometimes we cannot afford to take the leap of faith it requires.

I don't think there's a perfect path to any of our lives. Life is not a linear videogame. However, it's very human to worry about if we've made the right choices, if we haven't fucked ourselves up and set us for an eternity of regrets just by not giving enough thought to our decisions. Or by choosing the safest road.

I did that. I chose something I liked, something I thought I was at least moderately good at, something I could see myself doing my entire life. The job I want to apply at hasn't been my dream job for some time - I can't help but think about my real fantasies, the things I didn't even dare to think about back when I was a teen because they weren't your stereotypical careers. I never considered not taking the safest option, because it didn't feel fair to the people who had suffered so much to raise me. I've always thought of myself as a sort of investment, even if my parents constantly tell me not to.

This thought makes me so sad. It makes me wonder if I'll always be just a shadow of a better version of me that will never exist. If I'd be happier, bolder, more charismatic and creative if I was, for example, a voice actor. I know it's a ridiculous idea, because as I said, I don't think we have such a thing as a perfect ending, and life is way more than just our profession. But there's a small part of me that will always hate not knowing what could I've been, mourning an idealized version of the same human that I could only bring to life in fiction.

Maybe in a couple of years I'll be glad that I took this decision. I'll see myself financially secure and be proud of being able to be there for my family, finally giving back to them after two decades. Just thinking about it makes me want to cry - maybe that was my dream back when I decided. Maybe the job didn't matter as much as it let me help and return everything I've taken from them, even if they gave it up willingly. It's endearing I was so confident in this while being younger, and a bit shameful I have these selfish thoughts now that I'm older and supposed to be wiser. I'll just have to trust younger me.

We can even go full circle, because I think, in some way, American media has influenced us with the whole 'being happy' thing to the point of being this constant pressure. And, if I examine myself carefully, I'm not really unhappy with what I've been working towards all this time. It's annoying I can never know if the other options would have made me happier, but to be honest, if I try to put myself in some of my dream jobs, I can think a reason or two they could make me miserable in ways my actual 'job' don't. They would be funnier, I could be really good at them, but they would mean getting away from my loved ones, for example.

I guess people with better prospects can afford second chances, experiencing a little more until they're more or less sure of what they want. It was not my case, but I can live with that most of the times.

[thesearemymonologues]

Robert Goolrick, from The End of the World as We Know It: Scenes from a Life

[thesearemymonologues]

This is going to be my first post, so I may as well introduce myself. I'm Fronde, a long time Tumblr user, but not a very active one. I don't really post anything in my main account, I just reblog. I'm a 20-something human and English is my second language.

So, why did I open this blog?

I was reading a Young Adult novel in which the protagonist likes to write her thoughts in some kind of Tumblr-like social media. This reminded me of the many blogs I used to have while I was a teen and how much I miss writing daily. They were private (I only let my friends read them), but it was a nice excuse to ruminate about my dreams, about how I felt about life - the seasons, the books I read, the little things. The novel I was reading these days inspired me to come back to this hobby. I've never written in Tumblr, and I don't know if this will become a habit, but I feel excited to start this and I think that's beautiful enough to give it a try. I think it'll help me sort out my thoughts when they don't let me focus on my tasks and it'll be a good practice to write in English.

I didn't know how to call this blog, but while I was thinking about a handle my mind drifted to Taylor Swift's classic monologue song. So I found it fun to call these my monologues.

As of what you can expect here, I'm not really sure myself. These past blogs I talked about never had a theme other than me musing about anything I was interested in. I may talk about my hobbies, about experiences I like (visiting a new place, like a cafe, a cathedral, an archive), probably about things that aren't ever that important. This is going to be as random as your regular shower thoughts. I do want to try and be more creative with my prose, though I need to read a bit more in English and it'll take some time for me to become more skilled.

To be honest, I'm not really sure how should I tag these posts, or if there's a community of similar blogs. I suppose this isn't really different from a personal blog, but it's more focused on writing my own stuff rather than just reblogging. I guess it'll be a matter of time until I learn my way around here. If anyone wants to interact, be free to do so - I've opened the asks and, even if these are called monologues, it's always nice to know about other people's opinions.

Welcome to my monologues! ❤️‍🩹🎉

As you can see, I'm using Kirchner's 'Marcella' as a profile picture. I feel like Marcella looks a bit sad in the painting, so I'll probably change it in the future. I do think the nostalgic and pensive vibes of Marcella suit this blog, but I wanted to be clear that this is not going to be that emo. Life is weird and confusing, but it's also full of wonders. These years, I prefer to stay on the optimist side of things - it's kind of a form of resistance. It doesn't mean I won't ever write depressive thoughts, since sometimes all I want is to complain shit away just so I get it out of my system, but I'll try to maintain a balance.