I cannot write the way I want to at this point in time. I can't sleep right and when I do it's for minimal 10 minute intervals. I am awake and asleep at the same time and i cannot break this vicious cycle of restlessness. I am inspired and demotivated, I am dreaming during my waking hours and the stories never stop writing themselves. They unravel and distort, the truth is cycling through me like a virus on steroids. When my eyes are closed I can feel a presence, but I don't know who it is. I hear a merry go round, but it only goes around in a hellish cauterizing and illuminating feverishness that binds my thoughts together with super glue. I have no feelings yet i feel it all, the weight of an audacious animal biting at my strength. I'm interconnected and losing my signal, I am running in circles without a set number of degrees as I travel in time that has suddenly stopped. I've just about had it and the taste of pomegranate sticks to my palette, these sleeping pills leave me in a daze. The dreams will keep coming so I better keep running, my pen attached to my finger tips is dripping of ink and it never quits. So write on I must and face the distrust of the human condition despite premonition. This can't be real.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Butterflies
“Dreams are like butterflies, fluttering through our minds while we recover from our lives. Their colors are rich and vibrant at times, and offer us a glimpse into an ideal world where anything is possible. Yet during others, their wings come caked with nightmare and sorrow, and look only to unhinge us from ourselves, leaving our souls faded, and stained with melancholy.”
-Olivia Shirai
-Olivia Shirai
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Static and Silence
Static is all I hear and it might as well be silence. I’m not sure what it is I am listening for, but I know it’s more than this. Highlights and twilight beckon and I am not certain of very much anymore. Nothing new I suppose, confused incontinent mind unable to grasp my foreseeable future. My fingers spitting out toying words and subject matter of the 7th degree; not making much sense as I deal with illness and dizzying tiredness. I've lost 6 pounds of water weight just today and I am not sure if I want to look at that as a bad thing just yet. I inhale bottles of the stuff, yet it melts off me as my mild fever comes and goes. I dress in layers, warm ups covering my legs and I even place the wool cap on my head, but I can never seem to get warm enough. Two blankets I place over my body. The one I feel on my torso is soft and comforting while the other is stiff, its material eliciting an itch which I cannot help but scratch. I toss it from my chin as my patience is beyond exhausted.
No longer can I rest so now I must write and express and tell stories no one will understand, but I write them anyway. Words keep coming, but no sense is assigned. Mindless and tired, sometimes we do things out of habit more than for survival. While not bothersome, my habit is never being able to let my mind sleep. Even when I do sleep, I am restless and my body tosses about on the bed till I am sitting on the floor once again harboring delusions of fanatic assumption. I crave sleep. Admittedly, I sleep to dream and dream I do, but my mind, forever writing its stories, battles my fantasies and forces touches of reality into them. While I imagine others sleeping and snoring and perhaps unknowingly smiling in their slumber, I can feel myself moving, twitching, unable to let myself relax.
At times, I cannot tell if I am dreaming or waking up. I force myself to become self-aware which is both a blessing and a curse. Blessing so forth, the knowledge of dreaming, exhuming the fossils of my nature and the demons of my past, yet the curse lingers. Knowing my mind is lurking and hiding reality from me, sitting, waiting to procure enough sentiment to cause my logic harm, I tread lightly and wait for the storm to arrive. Still, I cannot help but let this happen for dreaming comes much easier to me that the realism of the world outside my bedroom door, for in my dreams, I can create and write however I like without fear of prudence and judgment. In these dreams, I can see her and only her and she makes me feel normal and real and safe. Her hair long and flowing, her body small and almost fragile. I look into her and she stares back, looking into my nothingness and finding what is hidden and blackened by disdaining aberration. However long the night or complacent the façade, she tears it all down and reveals what is real and I begin to feel content. The opening of my eyes enemies my infatuation and need to be with her, but I know my time with her is limited, so I must revel in its glorious splendor.
No longer can I rest so now I must write and express and tell stories no one will understand, but I write them anyway. Words keep coming, but no sense is assigned. Mindless and tired, sometimes we do things out of habit more than for survival. While not bothersome, my habit is never being able to let my mind sleep. Even when I do sleep, I am restless and my body tosses about on the bed till I am sitting on the floor once again harboring delusions of fanatic assumption. I crave sleep. Admittedly, I sleep to dream and dream I do, but my mind, forever writing its stories, battles my fantasies and forces touches of reality into them. While I imagine others sleeping and snoring and perhaps unknowingly smiling in their slumber, I can feel myself moving, twitching, unable to let myself relax.
At times, I cannot tell if I am dreaming or waking up. I force myself to become self-aware which is both a blessing and a curse. Blessing so forth, the knowledge of dreaming, exhuming the fossils of my nature and the demons of my past, yet the curse lingers. Knowing my mind is lurking and hiding reality from me, sitting, waiting to procure enough sentiment to cause my logic harm, I tread lightly and wait for the storm to arrive. Still, I cannot help but let this happen for dreaming comes much easier to me that the realism of the world outside my bedroom door, for in my dreams, I can create and write however I like without fear of prudence and judgment. In these dreams, I can see her and only her and she makes me feel normal and real and safe. Her hair long and flowing, her body small and almost fragile. I look into her and she stares back, looking into my nothingness and finding what is hidden and blackened by disdaining aberration. However long the night or complacent the façade, she tears it all down and reveals what is real and I begin to feel content. The opening of my eyes enemies my infatuation and need to be with her, but I know my time with her is limited, so I must revel in its glorious splendor.
Editing Chapter 3
So working during the night and sick as well does have its benefits. I am able to work uninterrupted for extended periods of time. I have already emailed my professors letting them know I will not be making it in tomorrow. Being the teachers pet does have its perks as my math instructor gave me all my assignments ahead of time without an argument. She even let me sign in so that when I left early yesterday to come home and rest, i wouldn't be counted as absent.
Regardless, I am glad to have this time to work on the book. I had let it take a backseat the first couple of weeks of school, but now that I have a good flow going for my classes, I am able to work on it and also keep up with my assignments. Chapter 3 needed very few edits, but a handful of sentences did need some revisions. I was able to get through it in an hour, and although I was looking to move onto chapter 4, I may call it a night as my cold / flu / Hemorrhoid or whatever this is seems to be getting worse even with medication.
Regardless, I am glad to have this time to work on the book. I had let it take a backseat the first couple of weeks of school, but now that I have a good flow going for my classes, I am able to work on it and also keep up with my assignments. Chapter 3 needed very few edits, but a handful of sentences did need some revisions. I was able to get through it in an hour, and although I was looking to move onto chapter 4, I may call it a night as my cold / flu / Hemorrhoid or whatever this is seems to be getting worse even with medication.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Angry Again
With writing, I've found that usually when I become inspired to write it's not only because of my love for the craft, but also because I have something personal to say. Passions lost and found prompt me write and express myself and oddly enough, anger has played a major role in that as well. There are times when I feel somewhat content with my life regardless of the challenges I am facing in my life and that tends to be a creative downfall. Why? When I lack conflict and challenges, I tend to close myself up and not say much if anything at all. While I do not live my life to search out conflict, for one reason or another I have been able to take those negative feelings and put them down as an artful and sometimes insightful look at life and the everyday fights we all endure as we work our way through life.
That being said, I find my fire burning again as the creative spark has given way to a massive influx of ideas and personal things to say. While it's rare that I write about myself directly, choosing to create characters and put them in similar situations instead, I do from time to time get very personal and in that attempt at self cleansing, sometimes anger others to the point of harming relationships. I have taken a step back from my life every now and then to see why it is that this happens and I think I have figured it out.
Everyone likes to think of themselves as an individual; someone completely different from everyone else on the planet, making them feel as if only they could ever be the person that they have become. Sadly, this is rather off course and certainly not the truth. I see people out there with tons of friends and they seem to be socially accepted in most circumstances. I, however, do not see them as an individual. I see them as a conformist; someone who has had their individuality stripped from them and turned into what we all like to think of as being socially acceptable. I have found that in life it's hard for most people to be taken seriously unless they are able to communicate with others on their level. Most people have this idea that they must do what society tells them to do or else you are an outcast and should not be taken seriously. Society tells us to get married and have children and conform the the standard definition of what we as a people have somehow decided to call normal. Be nice to your neighbors, always be kind to your friends, listen to your parents. I look at those phrases and i can't help but think what a complete load of crap.
My next two articles will be on topics such as these and yes, I have something personal to say.
That being said, I find my fire burning again as the creative spark has given way to a massive influx of ideas and personal things to say. While it's rare that I write about myself directly, choosing to create characters and put them in similar situations instead, I do from time to time get very personal and in that attempt at self cleansing, sometimes anger others to the point of harming relationships. I have taken a step back from my life every now and then to see why it is that this happens and I think I have figured it out.
Everyone likes to think of themselves as an individual; someone completely different from everyone else on the planet, making them feel as if only they could ever be the person that they have become. Sadly, this is rather off course and certainly not the truth. I see people out there with tons of friends and they seem to be socially accepted in most circumstances. I, however, do not see them as an individual. I see them as a conformist; someone who has had their individuality stripped from them and turned into what we all like to think of as being socially acceptable. I have found that in life it's hard for most people to be taken seriously unless they are able to communicate with others on their level. Most people have this idea that they must do what society tells them to do or else you are an outcast and should not be taken seriously. Society tells us to get married and have children and conform the the standard definition of what we as a people have somehow decided to call normal. Be nice to your neighbors, always be kind to your friends, listen to your parents. I look at those phrases and i can't help but think what a complete load of crap.
My next two articles will be on topics such as these and yes, I have something personal to say.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Chapter 2 Editing Complete
All done. Easy as pie. Not nearly the train wreck chapter 1 was and I completed it in about an hour. Chapter 3 will be easy as well. Most of the story from here on out will just entail a few seeds and plot twist fixes so I can make sure they all mesh and fit together. As has become my MO, I did my best work in the middle of the night so I should try and get some rest seeing as how today (its now about 7am) is Super bowl Sunday. Was figuring I could at least try to catch the game. Either that or worl on chapter 3 and get my reading for English class done.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Disappointed
"Winter Storm Warning!"
That's all i heard for days here in Corpus Christi. I was pretty jazzed not at the possibility at missing school cause I am so the nerd and wanted to go regardless, but at the thought of having real snow and ice accumulations so I could go out and photograph it all. What I got was the biggest let down and I am a tad annoyed. I shouldn't have gotten my hopes because this is just CC and not Austin. I know, people will say "Go back to Austin then!" I am planning to so do worry about that. Either that or some place up north. I can hear the ice melting from the tree branches and tapping the roof from time to time, but it was nothing like I experienced up in Austin. There is nothing quite like seeing a 2 foot thick slab of ice covering the sidewalk or a good foot of snow on the ground. I know up north its much thicker and to be honest, I wanted that. I knew it wouldn't get like that here, but a guy can hope.
I was looking forward to the meteorological equivalent to the apocalypse. All I got was a half melted Slurpee. They talked it up so much, saying accumulation was going to be massive for our part of the country. I guess 1/10th of an inch is massive for us then. So much for a great day of photos. Sigh.
That's all i heard for days here in Corpus Christi. I was pretty jazzed not at the possibility at missing school cause I am so the nerd and wanted to go regardless, but at the thought of having real snow and ice accumulations so I could go out and photograph it all. What I got was the biggest let down and I am a tad annoyed. I shouldn't have gotten my hopes because this is just CC and not Austin. I know, people will say "Go back to Austin then!" I am planning to so do worry about that. Either that or some place up north. I can hear the ice melting from the tree branches and tapping the roof from time to time, but it was nothing like I experienced up in Austin. There is nothing quite like seeing a 2 foot thick slab of ice covering the sidewalk or a good foot of snow on the ground. I know up north its much thicker and to be honest, I wanted that. I knew it wouldn't get like that here, but a guy can hope.
I was looking forward to the meteorological equivalent to the apocalypse. All I got was a half melted Slurpee. They talked it up so much, saying accumulation was going to be massive for our part of the country. I guess 1/10th of an inch is massive for us then. So much for a great day of photos. Sigh.
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