I am grateful for being able to exercise, even if it makes me super sore the next day.

Bodyweight exercises will test your skills. Who knew using a stick and leaning would have me this stiff and sore today?

I can feel the battle going on inside my head for supremacy of my mood. If my Keurig was working, I'd throw some coffee at the battle, but at the moment I think it's going to have to be sheer power of will.

How does one write when nothing seems right?

I made oatmeal cookies today!

Seriously, this is a big victory alongside the spaghetti sauce from yesterday. Being able to handle big spoon tasks like that means I'm starting to improve.

Granted, I can't do much else besides those things outside of reading or playing video games when I do, but hey, baby steps, right?

I can tell that the Wellbutrin is starting to have an effect. I haven't really had any 'bad' days, as it goes, outside of being overstimulated.

Watching Pitch Perfect right now because it's easier than thinking too much.

I'll try to think later.

It has been my experience that writing can help us open up portions of us that may be lost or hidden from us at normal times. It can be a gateway into the soul of sorts.

I know that not everyone has this experience, nor do I always end up in a meditation/thoughtful mood when I write. Sometimes I write just to write. Sometimes I have to write for a class, and the pressing thought on my mind is 'why isn't this working? Gaaah!'

However, there are times where I find myself taken over when I put fingerpads to keyboard. I find my fingers dancing across the keys, picking out words that until a moment ago I was not consciously aware of. Trains of thought that were hidden to me until I let go and just typed. Sometimes this manifests itself in a rant, a cathartic release of emotion that's been building up for hours or days or weeks or months. I always feel exhausted afterwards when this is the case, like I've just run a marathon. (Not that I know what running a marathon feels like; as much as I like to pretend otherwise, I am a bit more sedentary than perhaps is healthy.)

There are other times where I am the one typing, but there is another presence with me, making itself known through my fingers and my words and my thoughts and my choices. Some might call it an out-of-body experience, yet I am still there, still firmly ensconced in flesh and bone and muscle. It is much like an overlay in an anatomy book; there are the bones printed on the page, but then there are the transparencies of nerves and muscles and flesh. I am myself, yet I am also another, and my words flow like an endless river. At these points, it is much like meditation, something that I never really got into. I tried yoga once or twice, and the feeling I got then was somewhere between 'oh god my body doesn't bend this way why are you doing this', and 'if it wasn't for the pain, I'd be napping right now.'

I wouldn't say that I necessarily feel relaxed after these sessions. More...sated. A sense that all will be well. Accomplishment. Peace. There may still be tension in my muscles and my head, but I have written from my core, expressed as purely as I can given the constraints of the English language. There are some things that cannot be put into words in any language, after all, no matter how much we may try. But these are the times when things that I may have been thinking about tend to reveal themselves, and the pieces fall together. Not always. But there is a higher occurrence at that point.

Sometimes this feeling never reaches keyboard. I'll be lying awake in bed one night, and then there is this sensation, and something settles over me, and thoughts begin travelling through my head. It's akin to watching a difficult puzzle being put together at high speed.


Maybe this is why I like jigsaw puzzles so much. They resonate with me.

~Telamir

It's October 6th, and I've made up my mind that I am going to do Nano again this year. About to be 23, still have no bachelor's degree (I'm working on it!), school is already trying to eat my head, and yet, I find it exhilarating to heap on even more stress on my head during a month.

Nanowrimo has sent me into stress-induced panic attacks in previous years as I juggled classes and writing a novel, and this year I'm actually taking more classes than ever. Part of me wonders at my sanity in this endeavor. Part of me is giggling and already plotting nefarious deeds.

The real question is genre.

What genre do I want to tackle this year? Previous years' attempts have been science fiction (not too bad, though it wandered off) and fantasy (both disastrous and still trying to be forgotten).

I'm playing around with the idea of doing a mystery novel, though I've never tried one before. The boyfriend (wonderful man that he is) told me that I should think about what type of mystery story in terms of the focus; that is to say, is the story about the detective, the crime, or the criminal?


I may also start writing exercises, since I am a bit out of practice with noveling at the moment. One such thing I shall present to you all, placed into my head also by said love of the previous paragraph.

http://watchout4snakes.com/CreativityTools/RandomWord/RandomWordPlus.aspx

The link above you contains a random word generator. Click on it a few times (I suggest 3), and then figure out a way to combine the three in a small snippet.

Post your words and the resulting story in your journal (and in the comments below; I like reading things!)

Happy noveling, and enjoy the pumpkins.

~Telamir

January 12th, and so the semester begins.

Physics is a hit-the-ground-running sort of class apparently; no lecture, and homework due Wednesday at 8 am. (I did it this afternoon. :D)

History? Will be fun. My texas politics prof is bloody hilarious (which I need to wake up back from physics).

Japanese is a decent start in...and a reminder that I forgot stuff over break. >< More studying needed!

My physics lab prof? Broke my gaydar. And made us do a lab the first day that I haven't finished doing the calculations for. -_-


My brain was fried, so Aoi-san and I ended up going to the mall and getting bathing suits. I hate shopping for bathing suits. More than I hate shopping for pants, equivalent with bra shopping. You never look good in them. Ever.

Then the straightener Israeli guys caught us. <.< Aoi got her hair straightened, and mine...well, mine got spiked, curled, and overall abused with hairspray. When someone asks if you if you're REALLY going outside looking like that... >.> I had fun. I looked like a raver. :3

Tuesday? Class starts at 9:30. I need to figure out what to do for Data Structures to keep attention in that class, because it's already starting to get nyyy with my attention span.

My Cal 1 lab has hope. :) Japanese prof = bugging for info. Chinese helper = help with kanji.

Anyway, must go. Will update more lata!

Posting depressed entry followed by 'I'm okay!' entry.

But that's okay.

I had a fairly decent day today, all things considered; got two Japanese quizzes done that I did well on, had a relaxed day, getting extra credit in Matrix Methods for being one of the few who actually -showed up-...

Today has been a good day.

Except for the slight twinges in my left hand. I think I'm giving myself carpal tunnel at 22. This would not surprise me in the least. <.<


Also. I made the best fucking bread ever. EVER.

Behold. Chocolate banana bread.

(I'm glad I didn't say this in real life...I had to go scrambling for my camera. YOU DID NOT SEE THIS MISHAP!)

While I wait for things to import, I realize that I'm still behind in NanoWrimo. This is also okay. I have a 5 day weekend coming up, and I'm not too terribly behind. 33k atm. It's starting to sorta look like a story mebbe kinda...



Random blast from the past...this summer in the airport after I got delayed in San Francisco and decided to poke the boyfriend to get him to come get me. Our plane from Osaka had landing gear difficulties, so our entire group missed the connecting flight. Everyone else took the next one. I, being me, scheduled it for a day later and called Jeff from a payphone. This resulted in about an hour of looking for each other in the airport (my cell was dead, his was dead, I was waiting outside for him, he was looking -inside- for me...we missed each other when I went inside to look for him for a few minutes and he went -outside- to look for me; t'was a Comedy of Errors). Finally, I was inside when I got paged on the courtesy phone...and we finally found each other.

Zis is the day after. He stole my overweight bag tag that I got...and then didn't need because I rearranged things as to not pay the extra fee. :3




Okay. We have bread.




Mm...bread.




And the cook, being silly a few days ago.




Anyway. Sleep time. Ja ne!

I'm starting to slip again.

2007 was a hard year. I had to overcome my self-doubts, figure out what I wanted in life, pick myself back up and push forward. And I did well. I came out of the year with a loving, supportive mate, a mess of friends, and the lowest grade I had was a C, from the class I had never wanted to be in in the first place.

And now...it's starting to feel like this time again last year.

I don't know if it's the Zoloft, the Concerta, a combination of the two, or just myself. I'm starting to go back to that self-doubt and resentment of the chemical leash that keeps me stable, or attempts to, anyway.

I'm resentful that because of all the damned restrictions, if I want to go overseas, the absolute longest I can be gone is 3 months because that's the biggest amount of Concerta I can have at one time.

I'm resentful that it seems like my brain can't understanding coding without my mate around to hold my hand. Not resentful of him at all, just...wish I could figure it out on my own without having to bother him.

I'm resentful that my community college doesn't have the classes I need at the times I need them to get in, get out, and on with my life.

I'm resentful that my Texas Tomorrow fund will be running out in 2 years, leaving my parents to scramble for funds for college, and that my chances of netting a scholarship have been reduced to almost nil because of the bad year at Arizona.

I'm starting to wonder if my mate loves me because I'm just that awesome, or because I'm that much better than his previous choices (s'not hard to look amazing against people who constantly take advantage of your kindness). I know what he'd say if I told him this, but it wouldn't stop the doubting.

I...I'm starting to lose track of my path. The fog is beginning to set in, and I'm beginning to stumble. Last time I fell off a cliff, I floundered around at the mud in the bottom for a bit, and discovered a coyote who was also floundering. We helped each other up, helped each other out, and now we're mates.

...I don't know what will happen if I fall again. I don't know that there's mud to soften the blow. I don't know that I won't just crumple and not get up again.

I'm scared. Scared for what will happen in two years. Scared that I may be picking a path that's too difficult for me. Scared that I may be getting in over my head. Scared of what lies in wait out there the minute I manage to get my diploma.

I've always liked being independent. Never needing other people, never having to validate myself.


...I don't know what happened to that me. I don't know where she went. I don't know if I can ever get her back. Maybe she was just around while I was a naive little girl, and didn't know enough to be scared of the world.

The pain that I thought I'd left in Tucson is starting to come back. I'm not going to do something stupid, that much I can assure you of.

I...don't want more drugs. I don't know that a psychologist can help me through this. And I would feel horrible telling my mate about this because he has enough on his plate to worry about without me dumping my own problems on him.



I'm tired of this chemical leash, but is it the only thing holding me up from walking off the cliff?

So. July 4th. Independence Day. The day when we gained our freedom.

Heh.

Dunno about you, but I'm not feeling very free at the moment.

I'm not trapped in a cage or anything, but I'm not exactly wandering wherever I please either. To be able to wander, to explore, to journey without worries...that is what being free is to me.

And when I have to work till 5 pm at a bookstore that doesn't believe in holidays(except Christmas Day. Where's Hannukah, ya punks?!)...that's not free. That's "District manager is coming. Eyes front. Back straight. And you stay INSIDE the rules today."

Yes, I derive pleasure from testing the rules, by toeing the line, by pushing the limits, both people's and actual laws. When is late actually 'late'? How much leeway do I get? How much time can I spend with my mate during that 30-minute lunch break, and how late can I leave the house and get back to work not exactly when I was supposed to be, but enough to where I'm not exactly in trouble for it either?

The first few weeks I worked at Booksamillion, I was so happy to have a job, I did everything I could right. And then..the newness wore off and the boring dredgery that is retail set in. So, I started doing things to amuse myself.

Reading at the register? Oh hell no. It may be a bookstore, but we'll be damned if you're educating yourself about the product in a more productive way than glancing at the stuff in the back while on OUR clock.

Writing at the register. Should be okay...I'm coming up with the words, right? Nope. Nada. Eyes aren't front. You aren't paying attention to customers.

One sweep and there are no customers anywhere NEAR the front. Glance back to manager, and because I was in that kind of mood...

"What customers?"

Apparently, managers don't like having their authority challenged. At all.

"Keep your eyes front and I'd better not see you writing again, otherwise it's a write-up."

. . .

So, I could be writing down something potentially important, say, like..oh, a lesson, but nope..gotta stay in my head through the whole "Thank you for calling Booksamillion, can I help you?" and "Do you have a discount card?"

"You can write on your break."

...by then I'll have forgotten it.

*sighs*

Retail plus bored coyote = not good. It gets to the point where I'm practically begging my manager to stimulate my brain somehow. Even putting up FREIGHT would be better than having to deal with the general public.

"We're here for the people. Sure as hell aren't for the pay check."

...Dunno about you, but when I signed up here, it was for the books. Taking care of the books. Organizing the books. Not having customers tell me off because I'm obviously an idiot for not having their prized possession in their store.

This may not be very nice, but for all those people who think it's okay to take out your day, or your problems on me just because you happen to view me as a target...kiss my tail. Because one of these days, there won't be a "MoD up to the front for PCC" call. There will be a "AHHH! GET IT OFF ME!" as I grab the stapler and lunge for you because I've had one too much bullshit slung my way.

Which is why I'll be putting in my two-week notice when Harry Potter comes around.

I like school. School is good. School is stimulating and entertaining.

Retail...can be, but normally isn't.

So, today's lesson?

Follow your own path, and don't be afraid to deviate from it sometimes. Exploring new pathways can sometimes lead you into a dead end, but it can also lead you into a whole new world that you never imagined. Find your own freedom, and never let go of it.

*raises a Twizzler in salute* And always have something to gnaw on.

So, I went to my sister's graduation yesterday. Bit of coyote luck involved there.

3 parts of luck, actually.

Part one? I got to go wearing sandals, cargo pants, my Buddha t-shirt, and my goggles because the traffic was so horrible we didn't have time to head back to the hotel.


Anyway, we stop at sis' apartment, or former apartment. She's freaking out slightly, because check-in was at 4:30, it's past 4:30, she was also supposed to have a paper turned in at 4:30...so yeah.

She gives me the papers and tells me to go put them in the mailbox. That's a good thing...but I don't really have the heart to tell her I forgot half her directions on the car ride over. >.> (Mostly because she'd probably attempt to strangle me with the collar she had on her robes).

So...I start walking. Ah, construction site! I remember that instruction!

Walk past several crosswalks...okay...damn. There were supposed to be a couple of turns...but if I turn wrong, I'm never finding my way back. Search, search...

...

There's...a guy with a vacuum cleaner on his shoulder. AHA! Person who works here!

I flag him down, panting slightly (yes, I had run during part of this), and explain to him my dilemma.

"So...have any idea where the public health building and mailboxes are? My sister's about to have a break-down..."

"Sure! I actually just locked it down, but I'll let you in.'

So, I follow him through a docking bay, through an elevator (which he locks to keep it on the floor), and unlocks the mailroom so that I can put the papers in the teacher's mailslot.

"Tell your sister everything's fine. *grin*"

I grinned back, and made my way out.

Score two for coyote.

And the third? The speaker, the administrator for MLK hospital, not only stood up in front of the class of public health grads and took full responsiblity for what happened, but also delivered a speech to make certain coyote guides sit up and take notice, as well as their guided ones.

*yawns* Anyway, I just woke up(with a certain white cat curled up inside my legs. Forstsaber is adorable...), and my stomach is rumbling.

I bid you all adieu, readers.

Walk your paths well.