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[29 Jan 2009|12:11am] |
So, yeah. Why am I here? Because I tried to go to bed early and then I woke up from a nightmare that sent me sprinting across the room to turn a light on (I'm beginning to think I'm just legitimately afraid of the dark) and then my lamp just MOVED all by itself, which freaked me out, and now I can't sleep.
And to celebrate my return from a six-month LJ sabbatical...I'm going to do one of these meme things! Ah, yes.
1. Where is your cell phone? Sitting on top of Pride and Prejudice, beside my bed
2. Your significant other? Significantly elsewhere
3. Your hair? Not growing long enough. Curly and annoying.
4. Your mother? Mm. I'll just tap into that telepathic connection we have and check.
5. Your father? Out doing whatever it is that pirates do.
6. Your favorite thing? Whiskers on kittens?
7. Your dream last night? My bestfriend from elementary school's family all ganged up on me for being snobby and strangled me to death with the help of the black principal from Buffy.
8. Your favorite drink? Is someone going to snipe me if I say Mai Tai?
9. Your dream/goal? Writing the great american novel before dying tragically at a young age?
10. The room you're in? The boudoir.
11. Your ex? Hum. Haven't actually talked to any of them recently. I'm not good at that whole "let's stay friends thing"
12. Your fear? Apparently, the dark.
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Well, me and the other survivors of the apocalypse will be somewhere in mesopotamia reinventing civilization.
14. Where were you last night? Workin'
15. What you're not? Not going to answer such a poorly worded question, is what.
16. Muffins? Reaffirm that whole "you are what you eat" thing for me
17. One of your wish list items? A pair of Christian Louboutin pumps.
18. Where you grew up? Gainesvile.
19. The last thing you did? Remake my bed after hurling all the covers off in my overwhelming terror.
20. What are you wearing? Dirty, dirty.
21. Your TV? Is rarely on.
22. Your pet(s)? Just Rockbiter, my pet rock giant who eats rocks. (Did that ever strike anyone else as being overtly cannibalistic?)
23. Your computer? Is the childlike empress.
24. Your life? Sadly mundane.
25. Your mood? I've still got the heeby-jeebies from that lamp moving all by itself.
26. Missing someone? Yes.
27. Your car? Oh yeah? Well, your mom.
28. Something you're not wearing? Um. Everything in my closet that isn't currently on my person?
29. Favorite Store? The Neverending one. Oh wait, store.
30. Your summer? My crystal ball cracked, sorry.
31. Love someone? Yes
32. Your favorite color? Shifts with my mood
33. When is the last time you laughed? A little while ago. At myself.
34. Last time you cried? Last night. Also, when Atreyu lost Artax to the swamp. He couldn't have tried a little bit harder to save his precious pony?
35. Who will/would repost? Hah.
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[12 May 2008|11:39am] |
Predictably, it was mostly about him. The search, the disappointment, the usual despair, and then...he was there. He told me this ridiculous story about how he cloned himself and his doppelganger was the one who died, but that wasn't important. He was there, and he was happy, almost amused at how upset and worked up I was about it all. I asked him to forgive me and he just smiled at me.
Waking up and having to realize that it was just a dream was like a fist to the stomach.
I miss him so much.
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| Bathroom amenities |
[27 Apr 2008|01:25am] |
I have discovered that my new favorite thing is the judicious placement of chaise lounges (or other upholstered objects of comfort) in bathrooms. How curious that I should find myself in need of a quick nap halfway between using the facilities and washing my hands! And what wondrous joy upon discovering that kismet had placed a luxurious semi-couch in my path at that very moment!
There should be a law. Chaise lounges EVERYWHERE.
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[13 Mar 2008|11:24pm] |
She's still alive.
A life.
Sure.
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[03 Mar 2008|11:47pm] |
Today these two gutter-punk arts and crafts guys came into Dbrew, and I started talking to them because they seemed interesting. Turns out these guys are hitchhiking down the east-coast, while designing a clothing line and writing a book together. And they seemed so...happy. They had no money, they were dirty and sketchy looking and everything...but they were happy. They were excited about their clothing line taking off sometime in the future, and they were excited about writing this book and they were doing exactly what they wanted to do regardless of whatever the world thought of them. And I was jealous.
Am I subordinating my personal legend to a societally sanctioned view of how and what my life should be like?
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[02 Mar 2008|04:00pm] |
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I really don't know when to stop. I just back myself into corners, again and again.
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| Day |
[24 Feb 2008|04:41pm] |
I dreamed of him last night for the third time. He was back, and he was so nice. He apologized for having to leave, and asked me if I wanted to go for a drive with him (he wanted me to drive of course). He told me it was okay that I wasn't as good of a person as he wanted me to be, told me it wasn't my fault, and just made me feel guiltier.
I miss him so much. I think I keep trying to replace him, but there isn't any one to fill his spot.
We went to the Lakeland museum the day after the night I dropped acid. There was a Dali exhibit, but then we went upstairs and there was an exhibit of all these late 19th century Japanese woodcuts by this one particular artist. I wasn't feeling that great, I was exhausted and physically drained, and he went around the room and narrated all these Japanese woodcuts in these hilarious voices and made everything so witty and clever, the way he did, and it made me so happy. It didn't matter that things weren't great between us, because he knew when to avoid us and just make things okay. It may have been infrequent, but when I was happy around him I was really really happy.
I'll never have that again. He really loved me, and I destroyed him. I'm so sorry.
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[18 Feb 2008|11:57pm] |
My dreamlife is oozing sludge-like into my waking existence. And I'm starting to have prophetic dreams again. Of course, this only happens when I actually sleep, which is becomign less and less frequent.
I have a kitty lap. And a lap kitty! The two go hand in hand.
False cheer goes miles towards self-alienation and train-wreckage. I am becoming a master.
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[15 Feb 2008|02:10pm] |
Second dream, worst than the first. Panic attacks upon waking. I've probably said this before, but I'm genuinely worried about my mental health.
I'm breaking up. Losing my edge.
And this damn headache won't go away.
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[14 Feb 2008|10:02pm] |
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Castor and Pollux were the only stars left in the sky.
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| Todash |
[12 Feb 2008|10:21am] |
Lines drawn in the sand.
My hubris weighs upon me today.
I wonder sometimes which of my flaws will prove to be fatal.
Everyone who comes must someday go.
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| Dawn |
[11 Feb 2008|12:43pm] |
The world has come to an end. The Barony has been destroyed by nuclear warheads, and the Barony seat is nothing but an empty shell. Pinnacles that once shone bronze and silver now pathetically prod the hovering gray of the dense cloud cover, and the tiered halls are blackened by the repeated explosions. I can still imagine what everything used to look like. We are alone, my friend and I. I do not think we are lovers; no, we are merely survivors. We must leave this dead place, try to find some vestige of what the world was before the apocalypse. We are hunted by bands of roving mutant dogs. Food is scarce, rest is scarcer. But I fall asleep, and he cannot waken me. Sometimes I sleep for hours, sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks, and he begins strapping my slumbering body to his back and carrying me for miles across the bleak, deserted landscape. He gives up on my ever waking, because when I do open my eyes, for a few minutes now and again, I am full of nonsense, tales of my family, comfort, home. Finally, I open my eyes, and I'm lucid. He is angry, upset that I have left him alone for so long with no company but the darkness and the nuclear fallout. I smile at him, and tell him gently that he's the one that must wake up. "The dream that I have been having while I am sleeping is no dream. It is reality, and while I sleep here, I am in fact waking up to real life. This is your dream that you are trapped in there. Every day, we long for you to wake up, in reality. Stop dreaming this terrible dream, and come home," I tell him. The wind soughs. I wake up.
Maybe he prefers it there.
I know I do.
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[06 Feb 2008|08:17am] |
I'd like to whine about how I can't sleep.
I don't even get anything productive done while I'm insomniacing.
I just get frustrated, and sleepy.
The end.
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[03 Feb 2008|03:44pm] |
What a problem-child I am.
Last night I dreamed about sitting on the non-existent swings in my backyard, and there being many many identical young men in different colored shirts all talking about the Simpsons, and all the different strange character transmutations made possible by the technology available to the creator. I looked over to the man asleep in the armchair, and realized that it was George Clooney, and he had drool hanging from the corner of his mouth. I looked away, and he was gone. Ten minutes later I looked back to see that now Antonio Banderas was sleeping in the armchair, and he too had drool hanging from the corner of his mouth. In the dream I was struck by the amazing coincidence of having two good looking men looking so terrible in my backyard, all in one night!
Ta da.
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[01 Feb 2008|11:05am] |
"...so in this period we see a massive increase in third world countries, which has the State Department and Rand McNally pulling out their hair trying to keep up with it."
My foreign affairs prof said that today in class, and nobody laughed but me. I think it's hilarious.
I have so much schoolwork to do this weekend.
I was doing so well weaning myself off of caffeine...until I got a job at a coffee shop. Now I make myself all these revoltingly tasty coffee and espresso drinks and they don't cost me a thing and I know it's terrible for my health but I just can't stop.
( Unnecessary. )
Dream last night: teeth rotting from the inside out, bad enough but it's infectious. X-rays show all my bones are hollowing out, rotting, dying, but I'm not dying. No one wants to help me because I'm catching.
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| (W)hose. |
[31 Jan 2008|01:29pm] |
The only time I ever write online posts is when I'm at the library. Something about the hushed clutter of whispery voices emboldens me to spill my heart out in text. I really love libraries. Ever since I was aught but a wee one I have embraced the existence of libraries with my entire being. So many books! I actually think that my main reason for wanting to attend a certain Ivy League university was the lure of its libraries! Literally MILLIONS of books, and old, tiered, multi-storied levels chock-full of books...and other bookish things! Ooh, when I was in Dublin, the Book of Kells is kept the library at Trinity University, and we weren't allowed to take pictures inside but it was the quintessence of library! Everything was dark wood and happy paneling and you could smell the words and the lure of the information and I just wanted to stay in there for ever....The outside world seems much less importance when one is sequestered in a library.
In other news, I've been having evil dreams lately. They're mostly about death, although they also tend to focus on betrayal amongst friends, broken hearts, and destruction of lives. What is going on in my head?
Essentially, I feel dislocated. Or, to be perhaps slightly more literal, I feel unlocated. In every sense. Physically, of course, but also mentally and emotionally. I don't know where to put my head, and I don't know what to feel about anything. My daily interactions are pretty much entirely on autopilot these days. If I laugh at a joke, or argue a point, it's probably not because I actually think it's funny or actually believe my side of the argument....it's just that I know that I should be laughing, and I know that that's what I should think. It's terrible to base one's entire life on a completely normative view of EVERYthing.
It's like I'm standing, figuratively of course, on the north pole, so that any way I turn my internal compass is pointing south.
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| I iz in my head, fuxing my perskeptions |
[29 Jan 2008|12:41pm] |
So, I've been having vertigo. I'll be sitting in class being generally sedentary, and all of a sudden my mind will sort of slip off sideways and I'll suddenly feel like everything is kind of plunging...upwards? I don't exactly know the best way to explain it, but it's very unnerving. I would really rather not fall out of my chair in the middle of Professor Nolan's lecture.
My irrationality has, surely, reached its zenith. My actions become infantile, callow, inane and utterly irrelevant, and I feel powerless to do anything except sheepishly point out to myself that I'm supposed to be acting a little bit more mature these days.
Choice. I forget about it a lot.
I don't know whether I need more or less time to move past this.
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| Hode |
[28 Jan 2008|10:28am] |
I think I'll take this up again. Not only is it an excellent way to waste time, but I think I actually used to see it as vaguely cathartic. God knows I need an imaginary audience to bolster my flagging confidence in my own self-importance.
Metacognition never hurt anyone, either.
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| Fin |
[06 Aug 2007|07:17pm] |
So...today was (still is, I guess) my last day in Gainesville.
If you want me to send you things (postcards, letters, emails) I need your contact infos. So...yes.
I may or may not keep this updated. Only time will tell.
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| I am leaving so soon! |
[03 Aug 2007|02:51pm] |
I do not like this packing game.
I still need addresses, people. If I don't have yours, then I will be completely unable to send you postcards and letters and fun things like that.
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