a grain of salt at least has life
I…feel wasted. Not in the drunken sense. I feel old, I feel tired.
I want to sleep. Sleep in that peaceful, seemingly eternal sleep. A kind of sleep that lasts forever, at least forever in this moment of time. With no worries of tests, projects, nothing like that. That doesn't matter anymore, not right now.
It doesn't matter that you went to the hospital today, that you saw a neurologist. That they took your (high) blood pressure and your (low) body temperature. You're asleep, not walking from the fifth floor, where the neurologist is, down to the second floor for vials and vials of blood being drawn for endless tests. Dates of month, days of the year don't matter like they did when you were paying the doctor and listening to him set up your appointments for an MRI, a brain wave scan, a sleep EEG, and a follow-up appointment with him, in a month, to learn the results of these tests.
One test per week, all on Fridays.
I am happy, mostly. (You can be happy, but still be tired. They're not mutually exclusive, you know…) My joints ache, I forget what I've said moments before, or where I am at. I am bruised all over my body from dance, I'm propped up on pillows while typing this (like I usually am, the wooden desk chair hurts). I scheduled my classes for next year today (I'll list them all when it is official), I got a book on world religions and a book on teaching that happened to come with the four childrens' music CDs I wanted, and I have my Gizmo. I'm happy, for the moment.
But so uncomfortable at the same time.
Rest, for now. Sleep, fall away into the pillows that sometimes make me sneeze in the morning. Dream the most wonderful dreams until my feet get cold because the blanket sometimes doesn't cover them. Stare at my screensaver pictures until I drift away and it all begins…
Good night.
erase me…from your mind. would you?
"Would you erase me?" (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind theme.)
Memories. Having the ability to erase something from a memory. Would you do it? Erase a piece of you, a memory, a part of your life, a part of your reality?
Life, in general, doesn’t feel real. To me…it’s not real. It can’t be.
What is real, anyway? What is reality? What is the concept behind erasing a memory and taking away a part of your life that you cannot relive? Why is it that… ‘once this is done, it’s done. This is your new life.’ Translation…your new reality.
We have a basic concept of reality, from the time we are old enough to comprehend this idea. Our lives? They’re real. Our hands, our face, our lips, our eyes…they’re all real. The toys we play with as a child, they’re real. The food we eat that Mommy fixes for us is real, the clothes we wear are real, the shoes we learn to tie the shoelaces on are real. Living and reality are interconnected, they can’t be seperated. We have make-believe friends that “aren’t real” but our imagination that creates these… our thinking… that is “real.” How are these seperated?
As we grow older, we are told that our thoughts and feelings are real. Happiness, joy, love, lust, envy, anger, greed, pain, sorrow, and sadness are all real. If we feel them, they are real. They are real to us. Our thoughts, our memories, what we know, is all real. The sports we play, the friends we gossip to, the family we see at family gatherings are all real.
There’s a surrealness about this all. There is an aspect of the surreal in reality itself.
Right now, I am a college student. I have five books and one magazine on the computer desk. I also have six prescription bottles and a glass of Diet Coke on this desk, which is where my computer monitor, keyboard, and computer mouse sit. By the prescription bottles is the alarm clock, which shows 12:39AM. There is a portable DVD player behind the monitor, and a cordless phone right in front of it. I’m listening to Pale, by Within Temptation, on my headphones. It just ended, and now it’s playing Forsaken by the same band. There is a tube of Carmex and Neosporin by my diet coke, which is by the books. I’m wearing black shorts and a slush puppy t-shirt. I am sore from dance, and my shoulder is particularly aching. I have nineteen bruises on my legs that I can see to count, small ones that make me look like a human leopard. I have three AIM IM windows up, but they’re all tabbed in DeadAim. I have Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Closer downloading on my computer via Utorrent. I am twenty years old when I can remember my age correctly, otherwise I am eighteen.
You see that last sentence? I am twenty years old when I can remember correctly. Correctly as in, remember the number of years that have gone by since I was born, as it is printed on all of my identification. What if I forgot, forever, how old I was? What if I became another one that slipped through the cracks and somehow…I was forgotten by the government? If I forgot my memories, the people in my life.
"You get a card in the mail that says: someone you know has just erased you from their memory…" (The basis of the idea for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.)
What if it was deliberate memory loss? There are so many people I used to know that have almost entirely slipped my mind now, unless I struggle to try and remember them. Flip through an old schoolbook, you see the names and recognize the faces, but they mean nothing to you now, and more than likely, vice versa. More recently, in the past five years of my life, I remember being hurt so desperately by people I wanted them gone. Go away, I’m finished with you. And I would push them to the back of my mind. Never to think of them again, until for whatever reason, I absolutely had to. But for all purposes, they were erased. What if this were deliberate, though? What if I had the ability to forget them on purpose?
Would I ever actually erase a time, a memory, or a person from my mind? What if you actually forgot someone, only to meet them again? Fate, destiny, coincidence, whatever. What if your life, your memory, was gone, and all you knew and remembered was today? If you had a chance to relive a life with someone, past memories forgotten, would you? Could you? If you had a chance to relive an experience, a memory you had a bad thing associated with, would you?
Would you erase something for a chance to do it over again? Erase all the memories involving a person you used to love, but had been hurt by– for a chance to do it all over again?
But with the possibility that it would never happen again?
a desire for physical serenity
I have no purpose for writing this right now. Other than to have an entry for today, because I despise skipping entries. In my old journals– the vast majority of them, really– if I missed an entry/day, the journal had to be shut down.
Obsessive-compulsive much? At any rate, this is the entry for today.
Nothing terribly deep or pondering about it. Though there is a good bit I do want to rant and rave about. I have no energy to do that right now, though. No energy equals no desire. No desire to do much of anything except lay on my bed, aching and sore, propped up on pillows with my wireless keyboard in my lap and my headphones on so I can listen to all one hundred Within Temptation songs I have.
Yes, I am quite serious about that.
My schedule this week has been incredibly busy. Almost insanely busy. Monday itself wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was pretty nice. A casual, calm day. Tuesday was busy. I had work and classes, and then I had an audition for a dance piece in the spring concert– which I got into. (Yay.) Today– Wednesday– I woke up vomiting. I had to cancel all the appointments I had today– I had an appointment with my therapist, an appointment with a doctor, and an appointment with my academic advisor. None of those happened. I tried to go to class, only to get sent back (I must have looked awful, but whatever), and I slept the rest of the day until seven this evening, when I had to get up and go to a dance rehearsal for the piece I got accepted into last night. From seven until ten. I spent most of the time dancing and all of the time trying not to throw up again. (At this point, there was nothing in my stomach, but seeing as to how I threw up pure stomach acid a few times, it wasn’t something I wanted to repeat.)
Now, after a nap after dance, I’m feeling a tiny bit better. I was able to eat an apple and a salad, and I don’t feel so nauseous anymore. So, tomorrow– Thursday– my day is as such: Work at internship site from 9 – 12:30. Try to get back in to see the doctor at 1PM. Leave there, go straight to class (at 2). Get out of class at 3:15. From 4 – 6 I usually have a class, but I might not tomorrow, depending on circumstances. (God, I hope I have a break.) Then I have dance practice from 7 – 10PM.
Friday, I have class from 9 – 10AM, work from 10 – 2, and dance practice from 3 – 8PM. Saturday and Sunday I have dance from 10 – 4PM.
I’m exhausted. There’s no other way to phrase this. My body is so very, very sore. I mean…my sides hurt, my back REALLY hurts, my arms and legs are aching rather painfully. I am happy I got into this dance piece, don’t get me wrong…but everything hurts right now. I want a full-body massage. That would be great. Or about five heating pads.
Ow. This dance piece is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I guess that’s why I’m so tired even though I quite literally slept all day. I just want some peace, some physical serenity. That’s all, right now…
checkmate, game over…(&you took it for granted.)
“&all she does is take, and I’ve got nothing left to give.”
Sometimes, I wonder why in the hell people come to me with their problems. Is it because I am a good listener? Because I (for the most part, I won’t lie) tend to geniunely care about people, especially people I consider my friends, and I try to offer sensible advice and/or a reality check? (Yes, some people do get wind of my smartass mouth, but there are just some things that seem blatantly obvious, and I tend to have moments of “they cannot be serious” and react accordingly.)
I got a call from one of my sisters today. I haven’t mentioned them much in this blog, primarily because my family life is so unbelievably messed up that I’m not entirely sure who I am related to and who I am not. It seems that she and my other sister (that I know) got into a fight. My other sister, S (I’ll just use initials for the sake of privacy) has apparently decided she doesn’t need M in her life. That she doesn’t need, want, or have to have anything to do with her. Naturally, M is hurt.
As for myself, I am not surprised. S has pulled this shit before with me. It’s a back and forth game you grow numb to after awhile. You get tired of having stories and lies spread about you, you get tired of giving all you can to a human leech, and then getting yelled at and “cut out of her life.”
People, as a whole, take other people for granted. We don’t feel a need to treasure every single moment we have with someone, because they’ll always be there for us, right? They’re not going to leave. We will end today and wake up tomorrow, and all will be the same. We get confronted with problems, sometimes over and over again, and we work them out, and we move on. Nothing will change, our relationships will be eternal. “GTG, TTYL,” has many fans and is a frequently used phrase. Got to go, talk to you later.
In some cases, though, today is the end of any tomorrows. Sometimes, things are damaged to a point where they just can’t be salvaged. Other times, people become unwilling to try to work things out. They get scared. They will never admit it, but they get scared. Sometimes, you run out of tomorrows, plain and simple. We take people for granted until given a reason not to. We do the opposite of what we should. They’re always going to be there.
M and S’s relationship will never be the same. M’s not like me, she won’t go back to her over and over again. She’s hurt. Of course, she has a reason to be hurt. Me…I like to try and fix things. Hang on to people I know I should. Sometimes too much, sometimes at the wrong time. But it’s not because I’ve done it voluntarily. I’ve taken a lot of people for granted, people I shouldn’t have taken for granted. At first, it was my mother. Then she got a death sentence of a week, was in ICU, and all I could think about was everything I’d done wrong. Granted…it’s fair to say my mother is not perfect. But no one is. Things are better between us than they ever have been before. I’m not above admitting, however, that had she been perfectly happy, had she not been so sick, things would probably have continued on the same path they did throughout my teenage years.
It’s hard to digest, though, when attempting to pull certain things in life together, that some things, some people, refuse. And then you wonder why you wasted those years, those opportunities. Why you argued and fought, and now that person can only remember the fights. Not the good memories, just the fights. Not the inside jokes, the birthdays, the secrets, the love, the knowledge (at the time) that they’d always be there, no matter what. But then it happens, the person refuses. And you sit, and wonder how much time to you devote to making things right? If you think it’s worth it, you keep trying. But for how long? When is enough enough?
Eventually, though, you give up. You have to. You just have this hope, in the back of your mind, that they’ll change their mind. Sometimes, you cry. You might get angry. But eventually…it will fade away. It’s a matter of taking what’s offered to you at that time– because someday, there won’t be any tomorrows, and it will be too late. That’s it. That’s the end.
Then comes the regret. “Why did I say no?” and the tell-all, “What might have been?”
Things change. I don’t want to have any more regrets. I have enough of those. But there comes a time when there’s nothing left to give. I am holding on, but I can only do it for so long.
Checkmate. Game over.
the newest trend of a childhood game…
A childhood game of tag is always fun, right? Well, after my last entry, I need a bit of a break from the rather intense introspection. So, I am passing on a blog that I was tagged with:"Write a blog of six of my own weird habits/things/truths/etc." Then, naturally, I'm supposed to pass it on. So, I present it to anyone that reads this particular blog. Enjoy!
1) Most people consider this fact to be astonishingly weird about me: I study extracurricular things in addition to being in school. Right now, it's various world religions. Before that, I became quite well versed in psychological disorders, fairy tales, Charles Manson & the Family, and a bit of sign language (which I am still working on, only I believe I may sign up to take a class in signing at another university this upcoming academic year). Oh, and naturally there are all the how-to's and whatnots I studied for my writing career. (I'm also dabbling in and out of studying Romanian, as I want to work overseas for two years teaching after I finish up college in the United States.)
2) When I was in tenth grade in high school, I took a full-time summer college course load (four classes). Three of which were under a man who had worked with forensics. I did extra work with him outside the classes and seriously considered an internship offering to work in this type of investigative field. I ended up attending regular high school after that summer, but still retained the knowledge on reading people and how to investigate things. It was fascinating.
3) Grey's Anatomy is the one television show I have ever found worth watching every single episode, and I continue to do so. In addition to posting on a Grey's Anatomy message board. I have never been a large fan of television.
4) Alice in Wonderland– both the book and the movie– are fascinating to me. I often feel like my life is as tumultuous as Alice's. Chasing a rabbit to a fantasyland through the looking glass. I wonder what my own world would be. "Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary, what it is, it wouldn't be, and what it wouldn't be, it would." (Quoted from the movie.)
5) I misplace my mind a lot. At least, it seems that way. If I get worried or stressed, it's hard for me to string my thoughts and feelings into sentences. Instead, I tend to say short, jarring things, or struggle to find a picture, song lyrics, anything to convey what I literally cannot at that moment in time.
6) I am having a really hard time trying to come up with more things to say. I think of myself as being a rather boring person. There, you see? That's number six.
have to trust… it’ll be all right…
The world seems not the same
Though I know nothing has changed
It's all my state of mind
I can't leave it all behind
I have to stand up to be strongerI have to try
To break free
From the thoughts in my mind
Use the time that I have
I can say goodbye
Have to make it rightHave to fight
'Cause I know in the end it's worthwhile
That the pain that I feel slowly fades away
It will be all rightLyrics: Pale, Within Temptation
I don't frequently intersperse my entries with song lyrics anymore.
Once upon a time, I did. I did this frequently both at in my former
Livejournal blogs as well as my diary-x blogs. Often times, I felt,
these songs convey my feelings more accurately than my own words could
ever dream of doing. Now, upon a bit of reflection, they didn't convey
them any more accurately than I could have. I was just lazy, unwilling
to have to work through and dissect my own feelings.
Is this kind of thing, really, that all these "adults" in our
society deem as being 'teenager-itis'? In the end, does is it honestly
just chalked up to an unwillingness to be introspective before the age
of, say, eighteen? Perhaps so, but this argument would be so much
stronger if so many adults did not act the same way as the 'children'
in society do today.
To move back to the original topic of this all…when I first began
blogging, I almost instantly developed a fondness creating entries
based around song lyrics. I could sit down, open up whatever client I
was using to script an entry in whatever journal I was using at the
time. It was so astonishingly easy, I felt. Someone had created these
words, these lyrics, for my personal purposes of detailing my life in a
journal entry. All I had to do was transcript the songs, and I was
finish. The entry was completed, and from there, I could easily store
it into a box and tuck it neatly in the extensive bookshelves of my
mind.
And until such time came that I wanted to think on these things, to
reflect, these thoughts and feelings could sit there, on the bookcases
(in alphabetical order, mind), never to be dealt with again.
Bookcases can only hold so many items, though. Philosophically, one
can argue that any space, in and of itself, is both infinite and
contained, because no matter how "full" something seems, there will
always be more space– whether it is for the tiniest sliver of paper or
one millionth of an atom– because space has the potential to be halved
and divided infinitely, no matter the circumstances. These bookcases,
however, would grow to be as full as they could be in the pragmatic
sense. Too full. And the bookselves would fall the boxes would break,
and the contents fell to the dusty and dirty floor.
Then, I would have to clean it up. I have to repack and place all
these boxes back on the bookshelves. Many would consider the height of
this scenario to be the collapsing of the bookcases, the spilling of
the contents. They were all wrong. It was never that. The explosion
would come as I was kneeling down, picking up the pieces, having to be
confronted with everything I had stored away for so long. As I cleaned
up this disaster, dusted the bookcases, it was a calm serenity. It was
not until I began repacking the actual contents that it would become
too overwhelming, and the real explosion would occur.
It would be the true breaking point. Confronted by the shadows of
fear, the green cat eyes of jealousy and envy, the red silk of
sexuality and seductive sins, the blackness of fear, the spots of rage,
the blinding, flashing lights of confusion and chaos. All at once, all
attacking.
There were few, if any, good memories.
And there was never any peace. There was never any serenity.
Those flashing lights, the shrieking voices, the screaming of
desperate tears. A dusty floor surrounded by everything that was once
hidden and never fully realized until this point in time, and that's
all I had. And would be all I knew, until I could handle no more. All
would fall silent, then, soft cries of despair, regret, and anger at
myself. Everything would magically fall back into their boxes, only the
boxes would be so much, much smaller now. They would be clean, and
sealed again, and would hold in them a less intensity than they once
had. They would never again hurt as much as they once had.
I would forget. I would move on. Others might, they might not. Some
didn't, some couldn't. It would take work, but it was okay now. My
bookcases were picked up and relatively empty again. I could handle it.
But it would repeat itself.
And again, and again. I would forget, again and again. I wouldn't
remember until I revisited the past. Not through the bookcases, but
through the written contents of them, stored physically in journals.
Many, many journals. I never blogged in the same place for long.
You, too, would have run away.
Years later, I still have forgotten. Eight of my journals are gone,
now, fallen with a slain server. The rest are still around, journals no
one will ever know about, and journals of not only my life, but what I
put those around me through with the dusting of the contents.
I still revisit those journals. I will, as long as I can. I have no
physical memory of what I have said, what I have done. All I have are
the words that I once wrote, whether or not I remember writing them. I
own them, I claim them. I am ashamed, but I claim them. I am sorry.
Please know, however…I will remember this.
almost, slightly, maybe bordering on unhappy
Well, in all honesty, I take that back. Somewhat. Part of me is positively elated right now, and part of me is a cross between extremely pissed and extremely depressed.
It’s just a bit maddening to have to feel as though you come in second place to something. Not even a person, but a true, real, non-human-type thing. And yes, I am rather bitter about this fact right now. Specifics notwithstanding, as all of this could change in the course of the next five to ten minutes. Though, frankly, I doubt it. It seems that I’ve talked to everyone but the person that I used to talk to daily, real or at least semi-real discussions that lasted more than fifteen minutes long.
The phrase, “This too shall pass,” is floating through my head right now. Or at least… “This, too, damn well better pass.” I can concede perhaps a bit more impatience than usual, because I’m under a bit of stress lately, entirely relating to my physical health and upcoming life at the doctor’s office. Which is why this is bordering on unhappy as opposed to completely fucking pissed. (Please notice I am at the “bordering on unhappy” phase right now. LOL)
But on the upside, I’ve gotten a lot done today. After sleeping until about 3:30PM, when I awoke to a rather exciting Livejournal entry by a friend of mine that happened to mention moving…from there, the day progressed to Chinese food, listening to my sick roommate, downloading CD’s and Family Guy episodes, and finally embarking on another attempt to track down at least a semi-comprehensive list of world religions.
Only on this attempt to find such a list, I succeeded! Not only with a list of religions but also a list of cults! I am extremely excited about this, and have already been flipping through these. Not only for Hell’s Light, Heaven’s Fire but for my own intellectual curiosity. It’s so interesting to play scroll-through-the-page-randomly-clicking… a bunch of religions I’ve never even heard of. Which really, isn’t that hard to believe, as there are so many religions in the first place…
I am off to play more scroll and click. Night!
hell’s light, heaven’s fire pt. 2
Instead of adding on to the previous entry, I’m going to post a new entry in regards to the fact that I was so busy fleshing out the background and the world of the novel that I didn’t say shit about the actual plot. (Happily accepting notes and comments on both of these entries.)
Note: Again, this is simply a second part of the previous entry. If you have not read the previous entry, I suggest you do so before reading this one.
So! Plot:Love triangle.
The essential plot will have the overlay of the background and all, but the main aspect will be the dark angel developing feelings of some sort for one of the low-class workers. She’s got to struggle with how the hell she can have feelings for someone, when her own soul has been processed, and furthermore to how she can love what is a robot. It’ll play into the person’s life on earth and how she hears about his background and how he lived, whatever, all that…but he’s got this shelf life, so she’s got to deal.
Or, hell, maybe she can give up and be reincarnated, though then there’s the chance they’d be two different forms, on opposite sides of the world, and never come in contact with each other.
At any rate. I have to figure out to what exact degree will her soul be processed. She’s not going to be lobotomized like most of the souls. And obviously, she’ll be far more advanced than anyone else. (Unless I end up giving her a couple of minions. Which I might.) Does she feel pleasure? Pain? Regret? Sympathy? Empathy? What should she be able to feel? Is there passion to be found here? Is there a sexual nature to this? (In such a case, would the souls have to be gendered?) Do they even develop any sort of relationship? Is there a way to advance a soul once it has been processed, or are they stuck in their level forever? If they can advance, to what degree can they advance?
And now, I hunt down a program to start jotting notes in. Suggestions are wanted and welcomed!
hell’s light, heaven’s fire
Note: This entry is the assignment I’ve been working on for the creative writing class I’m enrolled in. I’ve mentioned it before, I believe. The first assignment is the Idea. I’m just going to post the idea I’m most excited about in this entry, because…frankly, the other ideas I have are rather dull compared to this one, and they’re not as interesting to me as this novel idea is. I would really appreciate detailed critical feedback given in the comment section, if you read this. Thank you in advance!
—-
Assignment #1: Idea
There’s one subject in particular, one idea, that I have felt very strongly about for quite some time, and am absolutely giddy to develop and start working on.
Hell’s Light, Heaven’s Fire
This story will be set in an afterlife-type setting, where Heaven and Hell are one and the same. (Not sure of what exactly I’d call this place; but for the moment, we’ll settle on Purgatory, from Dante.) In this purgatory, when a human being and/or creature dies in the mortal planet (more than likely Earth), their souls will progress to this purgatory.
From here, the souls are processed in an assembly line type fashion– first, the physical form of the souls will be all transformed to an identical form depending on a certain classification. Then, also depending on their classification, the souls will have their spiritual and mental capabilities altered. The society in this purgatory is run, first and foremost, by a Dark Angel, who will be the main character of the story. There will then be a certain form of social classes: there will be the “grunt” workers, who will all be identical solely to one another and will have no mental capabilities. There will be those of a certain ‘higher’ rank to supervise these grunt workers and who will oversee the processing and the evaluation of each soul that passes through. These workers will, also, be identical solely to each other in their class, and will have the mental capabilities of seeing what each soul accomplished in their lifetime and will then make the judgements on what ‘class’ each new soul will come into. Then there is the final, upper class. This class oversees each set of workers in their division, and are the only ones to glimpse and speak to the Dark Angel herself.
However, the higher the class the soul is in, the shorter their time in this purgatory. The Dark Angel is forever, granted. Those that report to her have a set shelf life of one month, then they will evaporate and reincarnate in some unknown form on the mortal planet. Those in the middle ‘class’ will have a set shelf life of three months. Those in the lowest class have a set shelf life of six months. (This way, I can explore the training and thought that goes into the ranking of each soul as it is processed.)
I expect the vast majority of the story to encompass the background of the main character (the Dark Angel), the purgatory itself, and the social classes. However, underneath it all, I plan on incorporating a love story between the Dark Angel and…someone. I’m not sure as to what class he/she will be in, but it will be really exciting (for me) to explore the idea of sacrifice in a land where souls are processed and [shouldn't] have feelings.
Essentially, I really want to incorporate the basic principles of several religions and belief systems in this. Obviously, there is the Heaven/Hell Christianity aspect. But there is also (I hope) going to be the following elements:
* Buddhism (reincarnation)
* Witchcraft (I expect to somehow implement a curse/spell casting in here)
* Wicca (a respect of nature and the three-fold belief system)
* Santeria (the ancient Santeria ritual of human sacrifice)
* Hinduism (enlightment measured by karma; in this, it will be the classification system)
* Judaism (one creator as a universal ruler)
* Shinto (the ‘Matsuri’ practice, a festival honoring spirits)
* Paganism (everything has a supreme spirit) [Note: I'm refraining from the 'Godly' spirit in this, given the nature of the story]
* Mormonism (Humans are individually responsible for their own sins.)
* Kama Sutra (Celebration of love)
* Catholicism (anointment of the dying)
* Sikhism (cycles of births and deaths before reaching the ‘human’ form)
Note: I am aware of the fact that many of these elements that I’ve pulled from the individual religions share a common theme, but there is a reason I have pulled them from their respective religions– when I begin developing each aspect a bit deeper, it will tie into that individual religion. For example, Wicca and the respect of nature. Respecting nature ties in with may religions, but the meaning and reasoning behind the Wiccan belief of respecting nature is the reason I have pulled it from that belief system.
I do have a few other stories I could play on for a novel, mostly young adult, but I have yet to develop an idea that I feel as interested in as this. Some of you may know the short story that this is based on. (As a matter of fact, several of you are responsible for me fleshing this out in greater detail. *eyeroll* *LOL* ) This novel in and of itself, this idea…it just holds everything I am interested in: different religions of the world, an exploration of basic morality, an exploration of karma, whether or not something can live as a *real* robotic form, and the depths of love and passion and just how far someone can go in the name of love, as well as an aspect of self-sacrifice.
And…this is incredibly long-winded, so I’ll wrap it up now! I do want to say that the title of the novel itself is pretty set; but I have yet to develop names for each of the ‘classes’ in the as-of-yet-unnamed-land (I will not label it as ‘purgatory’ in the novel, but haven’t gotten a name for it yet). I also haven’t decided on the four varying forms of what the souls will look like– I need to develop one for the main character, and each of the three classes. Which I am a bit stuck on: what do you make a processed soul look like? So I have a bit of a way to go in fleshing out specifics of the idea, but I’m looking forward to it.
Jeez. Okay, NOW I’m done.
pulling the strings on heart-shaped boxes
Note: A brief part of this was written late last night. Well, technically, this morning, after I posted the Creative section on my blog, and then got bored. The first two paragraphs are drafts I saved to WordPress last night, I think, and the rest can be counted as today’s entry, though I will probably write more later.
I feel a bit neglected lately. Nothing in particular…just people in my life in general. This isn’t aimed at anyone in particular, just a bit of almost everyone. Then again, it’s really early in the morning, and maybe I’m just feeling alone. I don’t know why I’m still awake. I have every intention on knocking back some sleeping pills if I don’t get tired soon.
I mean…on AIM, there’s definitely a “late-night” group I talk to every night. Typically a few guy friends and girl friends overseas, and some in the same timezone as myself that are just as nocturnal as I am. And I love them all. Suse, Amy (when she’s online), Billy, Nonny, Chad, Carol, and a one or two odd stragglers. I have over one hundred names on my buddy list solely of people that I talk to almost daily (or at least every other day), and I feel lonely. What is wrong with me?
I feel like I’m pulling away from everyone. And I’m not sure if it’s my fault, or…well, someone else’s. First and foremost, Chris. I’ve had several three to four minute conversations with him lately, and then that’s about it. I ask him to call me back, but he just got a new game that he’s really into (which is great, because I haven’t seen him so psyched about anything in a while, it seems), so that usually doesn’t happen lately. And I admittedly tend to get so wrapped up in things, I don’t call either. (Such as my five page paper to answer six questions that I turned in today! See, Carol, I told you I’d do it today. And get an A on it!) I just feel really alone, and I don’t know if I should or not. It’s like…I’m happy about everything over there, but sometimes it just feels like a dull happiness.
Next…my family. Though I was completely honest with my mother about my grades this midterm, and she does know all the health complications I’m going through recently, there’s a lot that my family just doesn’t know, and that they won’t know. Namely, my immediate family. I’m not telling them how much I’m struggling with my weight issues, things like that. I feel completely disconnected from my cousins, but particularly Ashley, who I’ve grown up raising hell with. She was my sister, and still is, in a way. But we’ve grown apart. Mostly because I’m in Atlanta. Then there are my biological sisters, and I can’t even begin to tell anyone what’s going on in their life right now. I know basics, but I don’t know, at the same time.
Then there’s Josh, who I used to date. Hell, who I used to think I’d marry. Frankly, we thought we’d be together forever, but that didn’t happen. His job got in the way, and my life pulled me in a different direction. He’s now living in California, and I think the last time I talked to him was weeks ago now. I still consider him one of the dearest friends I will ever have. We’ve grown apart, though. But I fear now that we’ve grown apart, and I can’t begin to describe the…just… immeasurable hurt and pain and just sorrow that I feel at this. The pain and the hurt I feel because I fear that he’s moved on, and that I won’t be included in his new life at all, even though I know him, and I know he loves me, and I know, simply put, how he is. This is the man that I didn’t speak to for three months at a time, but would always come back. Logically, I know he’ll call, and he’ll come visit, and we’ll go get Iced Grande Caramel Mochiattos at Starbucks with three shots of espresso in his, and five shots of espresso in mine. (I am an addict. This is how I live, and function.) When he first left, when we did go days without speaking, I knew he’d be back, but it still hurt. It was the kind of hurt of feeling like the love of your life was slipping away. Now, this kind of pain is both more intense and not as intense. Because now it’s become simply losing a best friend, someone who knew you inside and out. I haven’t had that much. So it’s not a sharp, intense pain of losing a love anymore, but a continuous ache of losing a best friend. I’m not entirely sure which is worse. (And this is rambling, so I’ll end this part here, but expect a more filled-out entry on this in the future, because I feel like I need to let it all off my chest.)
Am I pulling away from people? Is this a result of the health problems recently? Some of you know precisely how freaked out about everything I am, most don’t. I’m tired of feeling as though I whine all the time, tired of medications and diagnoses and doctors. God, I have a doctor’s appointment on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday next week. Yes, every single day of the business week. Neurologists, mostly, consults and then the brain scans. Back to a general doctor to monitor my heart rate further. A new psychiatrist that will hopefully monitor my meds just a little bit more closely than the previous one.
At any rate. This is far too long-winded for me right now, though this blog in and of itself is quite the rambling one. I’m finally revealing it to more people, other than the test readers (Hah, Carol!) that also lost their diaries when Diary-X crashed. I posted in my livejournal that I made a new journal, though I didn’t link it. I’m afraid if too many people catch wind of this…I’ll start censoring myself, and I don’t want to. This is the first journal I’ve had that I have been totally honest and open in about what I write, and I don’t want to lose that, nor do I want to password protect anything.
So, this ends now, after writing the beginning yesterday (and then falling asleep after sleeping pills finally kicked in) and the end after the classes of today. But I may post another one a bit later. ♥
