12.04.15 :: 18.04.15

1.
This is something I've never shared with anyone. I'm not even really sure how to explain it. It's a little like an imaginary friend (or several), and a little like an alter ego (but not), or a soap opera running for 25 years in my head (it could be longer but that's where my first placeable memory starts). It's a story that runs in the back of my mind from the time I wake up to the time I go to sleep. As far as I know that's where it stops; I've never dreamed about it. The core group of characters has more or less stayed the same the entire time, but some of their names change. Other things get adjusted and adapted but the essential core of the people is the same as it's always been. Nothing really exceptional happens. They work, they socialise. People move away or join in. They develop relationships and all the things real people do, except they only exist in my head. Sometimes it moves in real time, sometimes I time travel and relive certain events. But there are no hypotheticals. This isn't a creative exercise. Whatever changes I make are permanent. No erasing and starting over. No changing my mind. I'm not even entirely sure I am the one deciding things happen.

A lot of times, it's my filter for the world. They process things, they feel things, and if I tap into them, I can feel it, too.

A few days ago, one of the core people died. (He's not the first death in 25 years, but it is rare for one of the core ones to go.) Usually there's a reason when something big changes like that. It matches up with something going on in my life and works as almost a cathartic thing, but I don't know about this one. My internal soap opera is hellbent on my grieving for this guy - and I am. He was important. His death throws the whole set up into limbo. Part of me thinks I should embrace it. Jump in and ride the emotional current to wherever it takes me. But I can't. It's like I'm in one of those glass boxes filled with water, and I can't see the edges so I just go along until my little boat bumps into a wall and knocks me back, and I'm just stuck in here, where, you know, it is calm and okay. There aren't any big waves, just some light splashes when I reach the perimeter. But that's all there is. Just this boat, and this whatever and blank whiteness all around, and I want out.

2.
A smart person would've expected some effect from upping my meds. Me, I was totally shocked to wake up with my head feeling like a weighted balloon.

3.
The bee symbolises productivity (go figure), attention to detail, savoring the honey of life.

Spiders are a connection between past and future, creativity.

Bit on the nose, I have to say, and while I usually appreciate your lack of subtlety, I could do without your messages dive-bombing me at my desk or hanging out by my bed.

4.
I keep thinking about the 10K I need for the beginning of May but between not smoking, yoga and adjusting my meds, my body is giving me a big fuck you.

5.
Today was a day of escapism and avoidance. But I wrote 1000 words I don't hate.

You know that's only going to justify my bad habits.

6.
I wonder if I'd have this weird relation to sleep if it absolutely didn't matter when I was asleep and when I was awake. Every time I go to sleep there's this fear that I'll sleep way beyond acceptable times (and a chance of some sunlight during certain parts of the year).

It's almost 5 am and I'm watching a movie, knowing I should be in bed 'cause normal people. But also not giving a shit because I like the way this time of day feels, except for the fact that the perfect part of the day lasts only moments. Once the sun comes up, it'll just be daytime. 

29.03.15 :: 04.04.15

1.
I think I'm developing an addiction to spearmint.
Cheaper than cigarettes, at least.

2.
I had to banish my computer to an entirely different room to actually get any work done.
So sad.

3.
I have the whole story in my head, but I keep putting off writing anything down because I'm afraid of making the wrong decisions. I don't feel like I know enough to pull it off. I wish I could write like I did in my early twenties. I wish I could a lot of things like I could then. I think I was a better person than I am now. I think I've made all the wrong choices.

4.
I don't think the meds are working anymore, but no one's keeping track, so...

5.
Week 2 of this not smoking thing. Ish. Not smoking-ish. I've realized something interesting about myself. If I get a craving for a cigarette, the stubbornness kicks in and it's no big deal. I'm easily distracted.

If Brain decides I should have a cigarette (it does, whether I actually want one or not) because... Well, who knows what little formulas it uses to decide what has to happen and when. But if that happens, I can't shake it. It's the completion loop thing. I just go around with it nagging at me; you haven't done this yet.

I spent all day yesterday trying to go against it only to give in just so I could go to sleep. So when Brain started up today, my first reaction is to give it whatever it wants so I can get on with things.

It makes me wonder how many other things I just do because Brain has conditioned me to appease it.

Also: I severely underestimated how hard coercing an obsessive mind to give up something would be.

I know, right? How dumb was that?

I live with this thing all the time, and still think it's just going to let go of something because I want it to? I mean. If I could accomplish that... Well, that's kind of the central problem, isn't it?

6.
And yeah. I'm going to give it what it wants because I can't be bothered trying to keep it occupied all day.

7.
I can't even describe the amount of joy I get from being wrapped up in a duvet with all my pillows. If I could just stay there forever I'd be happy all the time. It's like being in a marshmallow. Except not sticky.

8.
I have a genuine fear that I'll get stuck in England after an apocalyptic event. I also worry about getting to my parents. And Bast. Pets usually don't survive apocalypses. Especially stubborn, toothless, brain-damaged elderly cats who don't realise their measly 7 lb selves can't take down any foe.

9.
Back to square one. No reason. Just here. Fed up with how many times I get lost in the NHS (like it's practically standard protocol) and not having the energy to badger them into caring for me. I really don't think Therapy Lady put my referral in (she is a liar, after all, and a little incompetent). I'm probably never going to get my stupid tooth taken care of. I need to follow up about the plastics referral, meds, toe... I need to write my fucking novel. Clean my room. Post last week's blog. Probably other things I'm forgetting about.

I just want to sleep.
I want to hit the reset button.
I want to not exist (not die, there's a difference). I'm just so fucking tired. Physically, mentally.

I feel bad about talking to my friends because how honesty do they want me to be? I'm not okay, but no, I don't want to talk about it with you because 1. there's nothing to fix and 2. I can tell you what you're going to say 3. I know you mean well but your attempts to cheer me up are a little pathetic. Sorry.

I don't even need cheered up. I'm not sad. Just so very unbelievably tired of doing.

10.
I suck at follow-through. I start things, get all excited about them. Run around getting everything I need for it. I get almost obsessive about it. And for a little while, I stick to it. Then it's like a switch goes. I suddenly just don't have any interest in it anymore. Sometimes even overnight. Yesterday I'm all excited about X and today it's just... meh. I can't even force myself to do it. There are about 4 things I can think just off the top of my head I started this week and lost interest in by the end.

I don't have anything that I've consistently been passionate about. There's the frequent commonality of all my passions being creative in some way, or involve making something. I really like making things.

Sometimes I feel like an Etch-A-Sketch that's been shaken. There's nothing there but the faint lines of what's been erased and the potential of new lines to be drawn.

11.
Caleb needs to go to Atlanta. Towards Atlanta, anyway; whether he'll actually get there is still up for debate.

Ben and Carys go with him because they need more airtime and you need to care when Ben dies (spoiler. not really. he has the look of someone created to have a significant death) and Carys needs to teach Caleb about being... whatever they are that doesn't have a name yet (seriously, suggestions for what to name a telesthetic race needed) -- they have to run out of time because the encounter with Roland freaks him out - maybe he knows they can't be killed? Anyway, later. That's way in the future.

Atlanta. Carys drives because she's magic and mysterious so we don't ask many questions, like how she has money or a car.

#1: Their mission is successful. I don't want them to find Derek, though. I don't know where he is yet, but he'll complicate things if he comes in now. For some reason, they also don't/can't go home. Which leaves Justin and Ren at loose ends. Unfortunate for Justin, but Ren is a main guy. Or. Maybe he's better in cameos... So. Option 1 they make it to Derek's dorm. He's not there and something (what?) stops them from going home.

+ what problems would 3 people who can control other people run into? They need a flaw. Besides that two of them don't really know what they're doing.

#2: They don't even make it to Atlanta. Someone wrecks their car or it breaks or they just can't get through with a vehicle. So they're wandering and... Who knows.

They can either join the army willingly or they get coerced. Baz dies around this time. Ben would be motivated to fight, or at least follow a sense of duty and responsibility. Caleb will do whatever Ben wants.

Carys leaves them at this point. Maybe after not finding Derek and not being about to get back to SAV (something with the military?), she convinces the twins to go back to her home (need another name, or find where I wrote down the name) but Baz dies, Ben decides to join the army and Carys goes her own way.

I really like the hurricane scene but I don't think there's a home for it anymore. Oh well.

So then it's whether Carys comes back when Ben dies, or after Caleb kills Roland. I can't see her being okay with a killing spree so that leaves after Roland. (Having her in earlier would mess with whatever I'm doing with Joshua which I haven't decided yet.)

Alternatively, the three of them try to survive on their own, and Ben gets killed while they're doing something. Caleb runs off and Carys has to find him, which leaves a gap for Joshua to make an appearance.

For any of these to work, things have to go from not-so-great to really shitty very quickly. Like overnight. Which is much harder to do in fictional reality than real reality.

I don't know. This boy needs to hurry up and tell his story. I'm tired of moving around puzzle pieces.

12.
I've been carrying around three pens for days because I keep not throwing it away when I find the one that doesn't work, so I foret which one it is so instead of finding out, I take 2 backup. It's safer having three pens anyway. You never know what might happen. Those could be the last three pens you have in an apocalypse. And one of them doesn't even work. Good planning.

13.
If I have the car just break down (flat tire, overheating, etc.), is that too deus ex machina?

14.
I moved my bed 2' closer to the window and before I always felt I had total privacy. I know for a fact how much can be seen of my room from various angles (yes, I did that) but since I moved the furniture I've felt really, really exposed, even in the far part of the room (which definitely cannot be seen from outside unless someone is standing on the train tracks with binoculars (there might be). It still feels like someone's watching. I'm hoping I just get used to it because I really like this arrangement.

(This is me not working.)

Stones in my pockets

1.
I wish I could store energy like a cat. It'd come in handy when my brain decides my body doesn't actually need sleep.

2.
My sense of productivity is completely tied to creative output. I've done a bunch of chores, answered emails and typed up what I wrote Friday, and still feel like I haven't accomplished anything today because I haven't written any new words.

3.
My sense of time goes all to hell when other people aren't around.

4.
I get stickers when I do 1000 words a day.
Yeah, that actually works on me.

5.
Does having pebbles wedged in it make a fairy stone defective, or is it once a fairy stone always a fairy stone?

6.
Just own up and say you made a mistake. I can respect that.
I respect honesty.

7.
Watching someone I love go through exactly what I went through with Topher and I can't do anything but scream: Get out! over and over and hope he listens.

I want to say: I will fix it. I will keep you safe. I will make it okay.

But I can't.

I can't even be there in person. I'm just a voice holding up words.

It's the worst feeling.

8. Today was a good day. 19.02.15

9.
I figured it out.

For months I've been trying to puzzle out why Caleb gets out of himself and helps the camp, and she's been right under my nose the whole time.

I knew there had to be a reason she went from a very minor character to a full-fledged personality between drafts.

My subconscious is a sneaky bugger.