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| Sometimes when I walk into my room, or any room at all really, I am overtaken by an insane need
to write. Write anything. A note. A letter. A chapter in a book. A
short story. A LiveJournal post. Particularly in the winter. I feel as
though I simply must wrap myself in afgans and my shawl and curl up
someplace and write. It's the strangest sensation to have all these
words pounding up against my skull wanting desperately to be out. It's
not even that I believe I have any particular skill with words. I can
make a sentence as well as any college student, but I'm not talented.
Not there. Grammar is vaguely fun and words are beautiful. But I don't
believe I can put the two together in any order which is pleasing to
man or woman. Which isn't to say I don't have silly dreams. Wishes and
hopes. Though I think even using those words are almost too strong. I
have stories in my head. But I can't get them out onto paper. I don't
know if it's lack of skill or willpower. But still. Every once in a
while - frequently recently - I simply have to sit down and write
something.
And yes. Today it's a post. After months and months
of silence I'm babbling on about how I occasionally feel the need to
put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard. It's not even that I feel as
though I have something important to communicate. Yes, some of you
might be interested in Terra Umbrae and those who live there. And it
does grow. But I don't think this need of mine has any thing to so with
the stories in my head. I don't know. I do know this afternoon I came
down with a migraine and yet now I'm sitting in front of my computer
typing this out because if I don't... I feel as though it'll get worse
somehow. My headache and the need. Oh well. A few hundred words and ten
minutes later the pressure of the words is less. So I'm off to nap.
Hope you all enjoyed this look into my head. It just happened to be the
quickest way to get enough words out that I could sleep. Not that all
of you aren't important or anything...
Anyways. Hugs and kisses. Catch you on the flip side. | | |
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I love being stupid. No. What I love, is being able to smile at my
stupidity again. I've made stupid mistakes over and over. And sometimes
I'd let them get me down. But no. I'm just going to smile, grit my
teeth, and move on with life. I'm going to keep doing better and better
until I'm actually perfect. Well, that's the dream. Lofty, huh? But I
try, and if I make it I'll be flying. And who doesn't want to fly, eh?
Yeah, I'm just babbling tonight, but that happens later at night.
I
miss my friends. I miss being able to talk to them about whatever. Anna
and boys and make-up and weird stuff, Britt and lots, Val and life and
bodily functions and boys, Boltzie and bodily functions and
frustrations and silly stuff, Holly and Christina and science and
sleepy and sick and lots, Wendybird and problems and life and friends,
you and everything. But, you know what? My Momma is behind me. She
wants me to succeed. And, just between me and the internet... She
actually thinks I'd be really good at a lot of things, one of them
being writing. Don't know why that makes me feel so special, no, I do.
I've always held authors in a place of high respect. Heh. Quite
literally high.
Good Lord God Almighty... It just hit me.
Maybe that's what I need to write. Maybe she's hurt and running away
and that's where she gets to. Maybe they save her just as she saves
them. You know what LiveJournal? I think I just found the corner pieces
of my jigsaw story puzzle. Wow. It's just kinda fun having an account,
I'm not sure anybody really pays much attention to it and I don't post
much. I never thought this silly thing would actually help me figure
that out. Hehe... That's incredibly exciting.
Strange what you
resort to when you can't talk to the people you usually do or want to,
isn't it? But it's okay. I'm content. Hard to believe, but oh so true.
Well, I'd like a job more than just about anything else just now, but
that'll come in time. And I can do it. I'm walking under my own power
for me. And I think that's what was missing. Me. Sounds strange, but
it's true. Now to deal with my Detta. Inner demons are the devil. In
other news I'm usually sleeping through the night thanks to the knight.
And me being able to chase them down too.
In actually
important news: Baby Daniel started the Ketogenic diet yesterday. He's
doing alright for now. He's in the hospital until they get him all
stable and stuff because this is dangerous stuff, and also his only
real chance for any sort of life. We know his brain is damaged, but
he's young enough that if they can stop the seizures his brain might
be able to recover. I love his family and him very much. Please pray
for him. Daniel Marino Guzman and his family. Pray that this works.
And. I'm a gunna find you. That's a promise. And a threat. Always remember, I warned you.
And
Ilyf,
Ilyfa.
AlaIl
Mfywb.
Anybody who figures that out gets... An awesome prize.
I will give clues if you ask nicely. Or ask at all, really.
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| So, I went and did something shocking! I cut my hair!!!
And I decided to share this with my Swallow friends. Because mostly, you guys are the only ones who read my xanga.
So, do we have any opinions out there?
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| Yes. I've been gone. And for most of you who read xanga, at least, I'm still gone. Not at Taylor this semester. I still don't have a job. And they've changed my drugs so it's almost like I'm a little bit drunk all the time. Kinda. Not a great thing. In most respects. Somebody somewhere said something (ssss) about being the best kind of writer when you're high. And I'm always high now. Yay!
Don't know if people know but I have stories in my head. Lots of 'em. I never really manage to get them out onto paper though. 'Cause I only get snitches of the stories at a time. It's kinda like they're locked up tight in a room. Picture a room in a dark place. Everything is totally dark. But you can see light coming out the cracks in the door frame. And if you bend over to the keyhole you can see stories. All sorts of stories cavorting and playing together. And they look good. If I'm quiet I can hear them; soothing, raging, terrifying all in turn. The problem being I don't have the key for that room. I can't get the stories out of the room. Every once in a while, when I'm not paying attention the door will open and a story will come out and taunt me. Usually when I'm driving, showering, dreaming, or summat where I simply can't write it down. Bright beautiful stories in my own head yet just out of reach. Added to all that I'm really not sure I can do any of these stories justice if I were to write it all down.
Well, at the beginning of the summer I went for a walk. Not an unusual occurance, really.
I like to go for walks with my dog, Riley, down to the woods. We walk along our lane in the hot sun down along the edge of the woods. Sometimes the shadows of the woods hang just over the lane where I'm walking. And walking through one of those shadow overhangs I suddenly got an idea for a story. It wasn't locked up in the room. It was right there with me. It started outside of the room and then went there to live. I'm always adding to it now. Driving at night and seeing the mist walk across the road. The weird seperation feeling I get sometimes when I'm on my drugs. Sitting in a dark car listening to my story tell me secrets and giggling manically while I'm being driven around. Trying to eat something that doesn't exist 'cause I can see it so clearly. It's weird. I can look at this story. Touch it when I want. I know where and how the story goes. I don't really know who yet. They haven't introduced themselves. But the world in which they live is so clear to me.
All of this to say... I don't know what to do with any of it. I have plenty of time just now, looking for a job and failing miserably will do that to you. But I'm afraid. I don't know what to do. I don't want to try and write it and mess up the story. And it keeps growing and
growing. And popping out at the oddest times. It's growing by leaps
and bounds. And I think my epilepsy drugs are making the story bigger
faster. This, in and of itself, is not the dilemma. The dilemma is
that I'm fairly convinced I can't write. Not well enough. And the
story in my head is really cool. I like it lots. I don't want to
screw it up. But I don't know how to get it out and not screw it up. I don't even know if I can talk out the story. I just know it's in there, and awesome, and I can't get it out.
Anybody have any thoughts?
Post Script: I miss you all dearly. I want to visit or have you visit me. It's lonely out here. Nobody down the hall to go talk to, or downstairs to harrass. I miss you.
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| A meme being passed around just now. And when my Dinh tells me to do somethin' it's maddeningly hard to refuse. So here goes...
Name five of life's simple pleasures that you like most, then pick five people to do the same. Try to be original and creative and not to use things that someone else has already used.
1. Going to sleep after a really hard long day sore as all get out in a bed with nearly too many blankets, plenty of pillows, and lots of soft stuffed animals. The room is the right temperature - just cold enough to keep my face cool and make me appreciate the blankets. I start out freezing but end up so nice and warm, all the way to my core. The stresses of the day sorta float away and then I do too.
2. Being able to walk into a kitchen full of food and make a delicious meal for people you like. Having everything turn out just right and seeing their faces as they bite into different things and enjoying the food yourself.
3. Those books that you read which, when you're in just the right mood, resonate through your whole body. It makes so much sense and feels so right your body practically vibrates. Everything else in the entire world just disappears, from your half-asleep leg, that annoying cut on your side, everything "real" is gone. It's just you, the author, and that perfect place.
4. Being absolutely freezing, taking a really warm shower, and then getting into clothes straight out of the dryer. Goodness. Makes me feel all insulated from ever being cold ever again. And it's so soft and smells completely divine. *sigh*
5. When a really bad day is over and you get away from everything that made it so horrible. Take a warm shower, get into comfy clothes, and curl up in a blanket with a book that makes you laugh so hard you "squik" and people look at you funny... But there's nothing you can do - they haven't read it, it wouldn't make sense, but mostly the squiking has taken over your whole being and shaking and laughing and squiking and the book and warmth are about all you can handle at this point - and that's all that's coming for the rest of the evening.
And now to tag five people... I don't know if I know five LJ'ers who will do this. Hmmn. So a mixture!
Valerina
Alison (my Biff-G)
Bethany #1
Me-Shell
Mateo
*sigh* It's been a fairly darned tolerable day. Admittably I had a <I>horrible</I> nightmare last night. Woke up shaking and crying and... Well, all of you know how that goes. Wasn't pleasant. Anyways. I went and found my bed, lots of blankets and pillows and my stuffed animals - crawled in and made myself relax. I put on some relaxing tunes and drifted off for the next seven or so hours of the best sleep I've had in a long time. Then I had to work the desk, came back for another nap, got up and read a bit more - yay Gaimen and comics... - and then came to post this stuff. I am truly so loose I feel as though I could melt. That'll change in the next hour or so when I've got some stuff to do I don't really wanna. But... These things happen. Daily. Ah well. Maybe I'll get in some fun times tonight. Relax some more. At the very least steal some music. And see some friends.
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