Bi-Polar.

No, really. Sometimes I think I am.

I can point to a multitude of things for the reason: hormones, amount of sleep (or, usually, lack thereof), my typically fickle, scattered, Gemini nature. It's no surprise that I'll often point to the latter of the three. While I don't think that life and decisions can be made or altered based on how the constellations are arranged, I do think they help explain things we can't otherwise understand.

There's an astrology book that my grandma has in her house. It used to belong to her closest, dearest friend, Alice (after whom I get half of my full name), who was very much into astrology and things. It goes through each Zodiac sign, then breaks it down further into, for example, Gemini Man, Gemini Woman, Gemini Child, Gemini Employee, Gemini Boss. There may be another category or two tossed in there, but you get the idea.

I was attracted to the book, initially, because of the plastic, textured cover my Aunt Alice had put over it. I remember skimming the bookshelves and my eye immediately falling upon the red and black swirls. It was almost a paisley pattern. And then I became more interested in what the book was saying. I remember reading the Gemini child and feeling like, for once, someone actually understood me. Right down to the very suggestion of having a wrist-leash (yes, I was that kid in the mall). Things suddenly made sense. No wonder I was still exhausted after sleeping -- my brain never shuts off because I'm always thinking, always inquisitive, always pondering and reflecting. I find it's still true to this day. I could sleep for days but still feel mentally drained. Things related to the vocal chords and communication come naturally to me -- well, that certainly makes sense as Mercury is my ruling planet, otherwise known as Hermes, messenger to the gods. We're writers, speakers, talkers, chat-your-ear-off-ers. All of the above, and then some.

We're destined to live a life of searching. Geminis are air signs, as all zodiac signs are linked to some kind of natural element. Scorpio and Pisces, for example, are water signs. Capricorns are earth signs. And so on. Anyway, just as air is constantly moving, constantly finding new directions and new ways in which to get from place to place, so do Geminis. And I often feel that way, that I'm fated to live a life of curiosity. A life of wonderment.

Sometimes, it's frustrating. Sometimes, I want to have my life planned out. I want to know that I'll be doing Job A for the rest of my life. Things would be, I think, simpler in a lot of ways if that were the case. At the same time, I know how I get when I find myself stuck in a routine. This is also something that the book mentions. Routines drive me crazy. And when I say crazy, I mean sheer lunacy. The idea of doing the same thing every single day, with no variation, depresses me just with the thought. And, if that routine is combined with a stifling oppression of creativity, you might as well chuck me in a pine box and bury me. I won't be able to last longer than a breath in that kind of environment.

But I didn't write this to get hung up on Zodiacs. I wrote this to talk about my changing moods. There is a tie-in, that Geminis are Twins. In other words, we can go from happy to sad seemingly without reason. And while I'd love to constantly point the finger at the sparkling configurations overhead, I know that the responsibility does not lie with them. I think it's simply who I am.

I need to learn to better control my moods. Figure out when they happen, what triggers them, how to make them change (if it's a bad sort of mood, that is). I need to find my way back to how I was last summer. I need to cry every day not because I'm sad, but because I'm overcome with joy. I need to find that balance and peace with the universe and the unknown.

I had the Om put at the base of my neck in the hopes of opening and calling upon my Vishuddha chakra (turns positives into negatives, sees every experience as something to be learned, opens up creativity, etc.) .. It seemed to have worked for a little while. And then I think I started ignoring it, started falling back into my old ways.

Well, I'm done with it. I'm done with all of the garbage that I had gotten rid of last year. This is a fresh start. I've another day, another gift with which I can do whatever I please. I have the freedom of deciding who I want to be and where I want to be it. I can do something spectacular, something beautiful, something kind and compassionate, every single day of my life. And I want to. I want to do all of those things.

It's about time I started.

- May (you stop looking for excuses).

Downers.

I've tried to keep this blog uplifting, not only for others, but for myself. To serve as a reminder of all of the wonderful things which I have been lucky enough to have been a witness to over the past year. I think a part of me knew that, at some point, I would lose that optimistic outlook on life and would need a reminder as to why I should work to keep it.

And though it pains me to do so, I have to post something that's less than happy. Less than bright. Less than hopeful.

This feeling terrifies me. It strips me of all of the defenses I have come to know. My clay army is but a pile of broken pottery, useless and meaningless. This feeling is one that I haven't felt in a few years, and the fact that I feel it creeping back into my life scares me. Petrifies me. I don't want it. I wanted to be rid of it forever. But the more I step away, the more it follows. It is as though I am leaving a perpetual trail of inedible bread crumbs that root to the ground behind me, forever to be a guide for an ambush.

This is guerrilla warfare, and the enemy is myself.

The worst part is that I can remember it all. I can remember the feeling of gazing at speeding cars longingly, wishing for nothing more than a strong gust of wind to push me towards them. I can remember my hand shaking on the banister as I walked down the stairs in my dorm, just in case I should "lose my footing" and find myself at the bottom much quicker than I had anticipated. I remember contemplating the dosage of Advil that would leave me numb, perhaps more, and wondering who would find me once I had gone.

And then I remember the feelings of hope I felt. I remember the simple beauty and pleasure of letting the sun warm my skin and flush my cheeks. I remember caring for myself and for my body, and wanting only to fill it with nutrition and health. I remember being too excited to fall asleep because there was so much to see in this beautiful world. I remember the tears that flowed from the overwhelming happiness I felt bubbling in my chest.

I remember it all.

And now I struggle with who I am, where I've been, where to go. Am I the girl who wishes for sleep because it hurts less than being awake? Or am I the girl who can hardly stay still because she itches to explore and live her life?

I don't know.

I don't know who I am. Who I'm supposed to be. Am I supposed to be anyone, for that matter? Or are these limitations ones I place on myself because I know not what else to do?

They make compasses for lost travellers, stranded in the woods. They always point north.

Please, someone. Anyone.

Let me get there.

- May (you search for your answers).