I. Many of my dreams work backwards to reality, and it seems natural. The ground is made of water and people swim instead of walking, buildings tend to be underground, but entered on the -1th floor (one level above ground) from the trains. This is a whole world I have reoccuring dreams about.
II. Complex plots are natural to my dreams. If they were a bit easier to explain and less counterintuitive I'd use them for novels. As it is, I do my best to follow and spend the entire day after an interesting dream thinking about its plot. My dreams are more fascinating to me than the real world quite a bit of the time. As such, lately, I've been wishing I could dream more, but it's probably a good thing I don't. When I live in my dreams, I become too detached.
III. All my dreams seem to be in a series of connected universes, and occasionally I travel between dream-worlds through back-paths. There are two different networks of paths I can access, but they require mild lucidity to use. Luckily I'm usually just a bit self-aware and in control in my dreams. It doesn't occur to me that I don't have to worry about the villians, but it does occur to me that I can do things other than just follow the plot to get away from them.
IV. There have been a couple times in waking life where I felt like I was in one of the more reality-like dream universes. All those times, I've done things I couldn't do under normal circumstances. That's one of the situations in which I truly believe in magic.
V. In my dreams, I always get away unscathed. This is a reflection of my white-middle-class psychological issues. I believe in consequences only with great difficulty. That's gotten me into trouble a couple times....... wince.
VI. I'm over my first girlfriend, Green in this blog, really, yet she still appears in sexual roles in almost all of my dreams relating to sex. Almost all of my dreams relating to sex involve girls, in fact, and all the ones involving guys are more scary than pleasant. But I already knew I have issues with guys.
VII. Kiele's evil twin is a reoccuring character. I have no idea why, she's just in a huge number of my dreams, almost as many as have Green. Picture Kiele (if you know her) only two inches taller and with a really bad haircut. She and I tend to get along pretty well, but I know she's going to kill all my friends.
The pyschology of the trends in my dreams says: I'm an escapist (getting out and never dying, my tendency to live in my dreams) with a complex imagination (fancy plots), a firm belief that I am different from others or somehow special (the buildings going the wrong way, magicy stuff) and issues relating to sex (guys, Green, Kiele).
I don't tend to believe completely in the psychological explanations, though. And after this, there will be no more posts about my dreams, just items added to the lists.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Body Stuff
I'm not good with bodies. I don't read faces well, according to a reliable internet test. I don't know how girls walk, as compared to how boys walk. I don't even notice breast size accurately except when it's on either extreme of the spectrum. I have a slightly better idea of height. I know, fairly accurately, how I compare to most people I know. If I'm away from people for at least a month, I forget how tall they are, though, and what their faces look like, even the basic details like the shape of their heads. I remember a handful of features, seemingly at random. The curve of her nose, her shoulders, spine, and breasts, and a bit of her hair (but I have a particular reason to remember details about that one). I remember hands, hair color, and basic body type the most clearly, with a couple of exceptions. The girl whose nose I've memorized, I never remember her waist even roughly the right size.
And yet, I can recognize most people I know at a distance of 100 feet, from the back, in poor lighting. No idea whatsoever how that works. I've been losing that trick from stress lately. I understand why that happens. As I become more stressed, I feel more isolated, and crave the sight of someone I recognize more. This being the case, I construe familiar features onto unfamiliar people. But I'm not certain they're the people I imagine them to be, so I distrust my ability to recognize people overall.
But the main reason I'm writing all this down isn't to look at unchangable ways my mind works, or to lament the effects of stress on my mind of late. I'm curious how others remember people, how they see me.
I've spent a long time trying to learn what beauty is, what physical features link the people I'm attracted to. I still have no idea. Mostly, I'm attracted to minds.
So, tell me how you see me (physically), please? Tell me how you remember people, what features stick the most in your memory. Tell me about reading body language, 'cause I certainly have never noticed myself doing that with anything approaching accuracy, and other people tend to misread mine. Tell me what it means to you that someone is beautiful. If you like, you can comment anonymously. It makes no difference to me.
And yet, I can recognize most people I know at a distance of 100 feet, from the back, in poor lighting. No idea whatsoever how that works. I've been losing that trick from stress lately. I understand why that happens. As I become more stressed, I feel more isolated, and crave the sight of someone I recognize more. This being the case, I construe familiar features onto unfamiliar people. But I'm not certain they're the people I imagine them to be, so I distrust my ability to recognize people overall.
But the main reason I'm writing all this down isn't to look at unchangable ways my mind works, or to lament the effects of stress on my mind of late. I'm curious how others remember people, how they see me.
I've spent a long time trying to learn what beauty is, what physical features link the people I'm attracted to. I still have no idea. Mostly, I'm attracted to minds.
So, tell me how you see me (physically), please? Tell me how you remember people, what features stick the most in your memory. Tell me about reading body language, 'cause I certainly have never noticed myself doing that with anything approaching accuracy, and other people tend to misread mine. Tell me what it means to you that someone is beautiful. If you like, you can comment anonymously. It makes no difference to me.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Names, again
I'm in the mood to acquire new names, which may not be advisable, what with me only just getting people to call me Riva. It doesn't matter so far, since the only new names have been for parts of myself, not the unified whole.
Quiet is now Silence. Invisible Girl is now Nothing. Not big changes, really, except it accepts that Invisible Girl doesn't even have a voice. She cannot be observed in any way, so she's Nothing. I was Nothing all weekend. It was yucky and hard and I wanted to give up, but I didn't. It's kind of amazing how I didn't.
This is wanting to turn into an examination of my tendency to give up. I guess I can let it, now.
No one would describe me as a pacifist. I'm casually violent, though I rarely cause permanent harm. Nonetheless, I believe in pacifism. I don't believe people should have to fight to get what they need. This mostly expresses itself when I refuse to fight for something that I really need. Or at least, that's how I was, as of Friday. I haven't mentioned this to people, but I guess I should write about it.
Friday morning, I gave up on school. I just decided I wasn't going to go back. Ever. It got too hard, so I gave up. I took the easy path, as usual. My mom talked me out of that, spending hours of both Saturday and Sunday convincing me I didn't have to give up, that fighting was worth it.
School Monday was the hardest thing I've done since I adopted the principle of quitting, at least six years ago. School today was the easiest it's been since at least five years ago.
So, something about deciding not to give up was worth it, I guess. Not being Nothing is a damn good feeling. Talking about what I'm doing with my life, liking the idea of doing it even though it's hard is new and amazing. The thing with Silence is that I can't hear her any more than anyone else, anymore.
I don't know that I'm who I was, but I'm pretty sure I'm who I should be.
A post about inevitable psychology coming soon, I think.
Quiet is now Silence. Invisible Girl is now Nothing. Not big changes, really, except it accepts that Invisible Girl doesn't even have a voice. She cannot be observed in any way, so she's Nothing. I was Nothing all weekend. It was yucky and hard and I wanted to give up, but I didn't. It's kind of amazing how I didn't.
This is wanting to turn into an examination of my tendency to give up. I guess I can let it, now.
No one would describe me as a pacifist. I'm casually violent, though I rarely cause permanent harm. Nonetheless, I believe in pacifism. I don't believe people should have to fight to get what they need. This mostly expresses itself when I refuse to fight for something that I really need. Or at least, that's how I was, as of Friday. I haven't mentioned this to people, but I guess I should write about it.
Friday morning, I gave up on school. I just decided I wasn't going to go back. Ever. It got too hard, so I gave up. I took the easy path, as usual. My mom talked me out of that, spending hours of both Saturday and Sunday convincing me I didn't have to give up, that fighting was worth it.
School Monday was the hardest thing I've done since I adopted the principle of quitting, at least six years ago. School today was the easiest it's been since at least five years ago.
So, something about deciding not to give up was worth it, I guess. Not being Nothing is a damn good feeling. Talking about what I'm doing with my life, liking the idea of doing it even though it's hard is new and amazing. The thing with Silence is that I can't hear her any more than anyone else, anymore.
I don't know that I'm who I was, but I'm pretty sure I'm who I should be.
A post about inevitable psychology coming soon, I think.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Thoughts on Thoughts5
The phrase appeared in my mind as I was talking to a friendly acquaintance "I'm out of practice at treating people decently." This definitely requires immediate examination. Firstly, what I meant by that.
I meant that I'm not good at respecting peoples' ideas, treating as equals, without condescending, even in cases where it seems to be justified.
That last phrase needs looking at. Cases where it seems to be justified are places where I know more about a subject, and think of it as inherently obvious. In such a case, I automatically become overly arrogant and secure in my knowledge. That's, among other things, not a useful reaction because it colors any advice I give with the feeling of being laughed at, which is not a way to be listened to at all in the slightest.
But that isn't really all I meant. I have issues with the concept of humanity. I've known that for a very long time. At first, I decided that (very young) people who didn't examine their world closely, people who made a lot of noise, people who teased other people, weren't human. Then I revised it to the opposite, making human a bad thing to be. Since then (8 or 9 yrs old), my views have flipped back and forth, but the group of people I respect has always been very very small.
Lately, I've even had difficulty respecting my mom. Logically, that's horrible, and unbelievable, and I'm fucked up. I already know that, thank you. Emotionally, the idea makes sense to me. She made a decision that deprived her of a quality that defines humanity (the good thing), and so, for all that I love her, and agree that she's doing much better with her life than I am with mine, I can't even think of her as an equal.
I should change that. How? Convince my subconscious mind of what my conscious mind knows: that all people are deserving of respect. How? by treating them with respect, whether or not I feel it at first. If I can just keep remembering to do that, everything will be much much better in my life, and the lives of people around me.
I meant that I'm not good at respecting peoples' ideas, treating as equals, without condescending, even in cases where it seems to be justified.
That last phrase needs looking at. Cases where it seems to be justified are places where I know more about a subject, and think of it as inherently obvious. In such a case, I automatically become overly arrogant and secure in my knowledge. That's, among other things, not a useful reaction because it colors any advice I give with the feeling of being laughed at, which is not a way to be listened to at all in the slightest.
But that isn't really all I meant. I have issues with the concept of humanity. I've known that for a very long time. At first, I decided that (very young) people who didn't examine their world closely, people who made a lot of noise, people who teased other people, weren't human. Then I revised it to the opposite, making human a bad thing to be. Since then (8 or 9 yrs old), my views have flipped back and forth, but the group of people I respect has always been very very small.
Lately, I've even had difficulty respecting my mom. Logically, that's horrible, and unbelievable, and I'm fucked up. I already know that, thank you. Emotionally, the idea makes sense to me. She made a decision that deprived her of a quality that defines humanity (the good thing), and so, for all that I love her, and agree that she's doing much better with her life than I am with mine, I can't even think of her as an equal.
I should change that. How? Convince my subconscious mind of what my conscious mind knows: that all people are deserving of respect. How? by treating them with respect, whether or not I feel it at first. If I can just keep remembering to do that, everything will be much much better in my life, and the lives of people around me.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Simple
Simple, I have decided, is a better name for him than Fox. He strives toward simplicity. He swears his thought processes are simple. I am quite certain they are not, but have grown tired of arguing with him. He doesn't dislike complex things, though. He describes girls as complex, and seems to have more female friends than male.
He does, of course, follow the trend in my tastes lately, and so is physically fairly androgynous. Longer hair than mine. People call him a girl, and he doesn't object too much, except when they mention they could check... Objection to that is understandable, and anyway, I can vouch that he's biologically male. I haven't mentioned that to many people, so far.
He's not my boyfriend. We are not, in any conventional sense, romantically involved. Even if we were, my relationships are hardly considered conventional, I suppose. We're friends, we're pretty close in a strange way, I am letting him see more of me than the pretty masks, and I keep forgetting I don't need to play The Game with him. We enjoy each others' company, though not so much now that he's back in Davis.
Sometimes, he can even touch my neck without panicking me. Sometimes, he even reads the warnings correctly.
What we have feels right, we're both not done healing from or past loves yet, and we don't need titles. For now, it works, so I'm not interested in messing with it. I don't know how long it can last, though, but I don't think the end will be too hard.
And, as per standard, soon after writing this, it stopped being true. Simple is the wrong name, for a variety of reasons. So, onward to the next. It may last, since it's actually his. Avi, pronounced like avian, rather than like Ari. Such is the nature of the wanderspace.
He does, of course, follow the trend in my tastes lately, and so is physically fairly androgynous. Longer hair than mine. People call him a girl, and he doesn't object too much, except when they mention they could check... Objection to that is understandable, and anyway, I can vouch that he's biologically male. I haven't mentioned that to many people, so far.
He's not my boyfriend. We are not, in any conventional sense, romantically involved. Even if we were, my relationships are hardly considered conventional, I suppose. We're friends, we're pretty close in a strange way, I am letting him see more of me than the pretty masks, and I keep forgetting I don't need to play The Game with him. We enjoy each others' company, though not so much now that he's back in Davis.
Sometimes, he can even touch my neck without panicking me. Sometimes, he even reads the warnings correctly.
What we have feels right, we're both not done healing from or past loves yet, and we don't need titles. For now, it works, so I'm not interested in messing with it. I don't know how long it can last, though, but I don't think the end will be too hard.
And, as per standard, soon after writing this, it stopped being true. Simple is the wrong name, for a variety of reasons. So, onward to the next. It may last, since it's actually his. Avi, pronounced like avian, rather than like Ari. Such is the nature of the wanderspace.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Isolation
So now, not only do I never want to go home, I never want to be around people. They complicate things. I'm not quite sure why I said that, but maybe it's true. People make it harder to die of homework, and dying of homework is the plan. I wanted to examine those two facts, but no time, because of the homework. Yep, that was an easy avoidance of looking at something that bothers me. heh.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
soon, yeah...
So much for updating this blog more regularly. I guess I couldn't really think of issues to write about in it. I am updating my livejournal pretty regularly, but it's friends-locked, so only people with livejournals of their own can read it.
I'm generally doing pretty well with dealing with my life and my mind right now, but there are a few things that don't make sense, so I'll be using this to work them out over the next few days. It's a good system.
Subject for the remainder of this post: I never want to go home.
Last night, I didn't go home until 1 AM. My mother wanted me to leave where I was by midnight at the latest. It was 12:52 when I finally called her to come pick me up.
It wasn't as if I was particularly happy where I was, either. It was a pretty unpleasant party, except for Simple and a few other people. Simple is going to be the subject of one of my next posts. I just don't really like the sort of party where most people are very drunk, though they were good people to be around when they were sober. I spent about an hour outside, listening to a conversation to which I had nothing to contribute, because inside was worse. I said I was fine because I wasn't needing to get away from the stupidity as much as I sometimes do. (More about saying I was fine in the post about Simple.) It didn't give me a pounding headache, make me crazy or sick to my stomach. I think that's mostly from the marajuana smoke, when it happens.
But still, I wasn't happy there. I could have gone home, my mom would have been happier if I'd come home, I probably would have been happier at home. So why didn't I?
This isn't the first time I've stayed in an unpleasant situation rather than return to my house. I've spent hours wandering almost alone in downtown Berkeley to avoid going home, and more hours standing around listening to a conversation that doesn't interest me rather than going home.
I get along okay with my parents, I like the space of my house and the safety of my room. My back yard feels like a home to me, definitely, so the obvious reason of not feeling welcome or safe at my house isn't right.
My semiconscious mind, which is what has been giving reasons for this before says it's because there's nothing for me to do at home. Is that true? I have a computer with instant messaging programs installed, so I can talk to people, but I don't get hugs while home. I have my flute, which I haven't played in months, even though I love her dearly. I have my story beginnings, sculptures, sewing projects, mind cleansing rituals, beads, a wonderful garden to sit or walk in when it's light out. I don't have direct interraction with people when I'm home, though. I tend to be in a different room than either of my parents, and they work at home and are always busy.
That could be a reason to stay out, because I did spend the entire night cuddling with Simple. If Simple hadn't been there, I wouldn't have gone home, though. I would have tried to cuddle with Bright (old friend, and ex. at the time we broke up, we had violently clashing worldviews, but we've helped each other change, and are now much more similar) and do whatever she was doing. I know she wasn't drinking, anyway. If Bright had left, I would have, even if Simple was still there. That's because I didn't know anyone else there very well, says my thought pattern, and it seems to be right. I don't even know Simple hugely well.
So, I don't want to be alone, but being with only people I don't know very well, if at all, is as bad as, or worse than, being alone. That's what I have so far. But I've stayed after school very late with people I didn't know very well, just to avoid going home, so I guess there's more.
The theory I came up with as I was starting to write this is that going home also means there's stuff I should be doing but don't want to. If I'm not home all day, I don't have to put dishes away or work on my homework or clean my room. It can all wait until tomorrow. I am a procrastinator, hugely so. I know this, and it's yet another thing to work out sometime.
If this is linked into procrastinating, it'll be harder to deal with. I can deal with the part about not wanting to be alone, but the thing with procrastination is that it makes you put off solving it. "I can deal with my procrasintation problem later, when I have more time and less other stuff to deal with." I guess I'm not doing that anymore, if I'm blogging about it. Procrastination deserves its own post, so I guess I should finish this one up.
Reason I don't want to come home, as established by examination of my thought processes is as follows: Home, while a safe place, is a lonely place, and a place where anything I do is overshadowed by the thought of the things I should be doing instead.
What can I do about that? The obvious solution is hugely unpleasant: get rid of the overshadowing things by getting them done. That ties back into the procrastination and deserves examination in its own right. I guess it's a goal to strive towards anyway, and thinking about the blocks soon will help.
As for the loneliness, in past it wasn't an issue. I'm an only child, I've learned how to entertain myself without people, and even like being alone more than most people. I think the desire to be around people all the time is a learned response, and one that does not, in the end, serve my best interest. So, unlearn that. Remember how to never feel too lonely, how to be creative and revel in the chance to think uninterrupted. I can certainly do that, and it will be good for me in other ways, too. Might even help with doing all the things I procrastinate.
---
That was very soothing and useful. Overall, the blogging to sort out my thought processes is a Really Good Idea, and theirfore should be used. Now, if I can just remember that and make time to do this...
I'm generally doing pretty well with dealing with my life and my mind right now, but there are a few things that don't make sense, so I'll be using this to work them out over the next few days. It's a good system.
Subject for the remainder of this post: I never want to go home.
Last night, I didn't go home until 1 AM. My mother wanted me to leave where I was by midnight at the latest. It was 12:52 when I finally called her to come pick me up.
It wasn't as if I was particularly happy where I was, either. It was a pretty unpleasant party, except for Simple and a few other people. Simple is going to be the subject of one of my next posts. I just don't really like the sort of party where most people are very drunk, though they were good people to be around when they were sober. I spent about an hour outside, listening to a conversation to which I had nothing to contribute, because inside was worse. I said I was fine because I wasn't needing to get away from the stupidity as much as I sometimes do. (More about saying I was fine in the post about Simple.) It didn't give me a pounding headache, make me crazy or sick to my stomach. I think that's mostly from the marajuana smoke, when it happens.
But still, I wasn't happy there. I could have gone home, my mom would have been happier if I'd come home, I probably would have been happier at home. So why didn't I?
This isn't the first time I've stayed in an unpleasant situation rather than return to my house. I've spent hours wandering almost alone in downtown Berkeley to avoid going home, and more hours standing around listening to a conversation that doesn't interest me rather than going home.
I get along okay with my parents, I like the space of my house and the safety of my room. My back yard feels like a home to me, definitely, so the obvious reason of not feeling welcome or safe at my house isn't right.
My semiconscious mind, which is what has been giving reasons for this before says it's because there's nothing for me to do at home. Is that true? I have a computer with instant messaging programs installed, so I can talk to people, but I don't get hugs while home. I have my flute, which I haven't played in months, even though I love her dearly. I have my story beginnings, sculptures, sewing projects, mind cleansing rituals, beads, a wonderful garden to sit or walk in when it's light out. I don't have direct interraction with people when I'm home, though. I tend to be in a different room than either of my parents, and they work at home and are always busy.
That could be a reason to stay out, because I did spend the entire night cuddling with Simple. If Simple hadn't been there, I wouldn't have gone home, though. I would have tried to cuddle with Bright (old friend, and ex. at the time we broke up, we had violently clashing worldviews, but we've helped each other change, and are now much more similar) and do whatever she was doing. I know she wasn't drinking, anyway. If Bright had left, I would have, even if Simple was still there. That's because I didn't know anyone else there very well, says my thought pattern, and it seems to be right. I don't even know Simple hugely well.
So, I don't want to be alone, but being with only people I don't know very well, if at all, is as bad as, or worse than, being alone. That's what I have so far. But I've stayed after school very late with people I didn't know very well, just to avoid going home, so I guess there's more.
The theory I came up with as I was starting to write this is that going home also means there's stuff I should be doing but don't want to. If I'm not home all day, I don't have to put dishes away or work on my homework or clean my room. It can all wait until tomorrow. I am a procrastinator, hugely so. I know this, and it's yet another thing to work out sometime.
If this is linked into procrastinating, it'll be harder to deal with. I can deal with the part about not wanting to be alone, but the thing with procrastination is that it makes you put off solving it. "I can deal with my procrasintation problem later, when I have more time and less other stuff to deal with." I guess I'm not doing that anymore, if I'm blogging about it. Procrastination deserves its own post, so I guess I should finish this one up.
Reason I don't want to come home, as established by examination of my thought processes is as follows: Home, while a safe place, is a lonely place, and a place where anything I do is overshadowed by the thought of the things I should be doing instead.
What can I do about that? The obvious solution is hugely unpleasant: get rid of the overshadowing things by getting them done. That ties back into the procrastination and deserves examination in its own right. I guess it's a goal to strive towards anyway, and thinking about the blocks soon will help.
As for the loneliness, in past it wasn't an issue. I'm an only child, I've learned how to entertain myself without people, and even like being alone more than most people. I think the desire to be around people all the time is a learned response, and one that does not, in the end, serve my best interest. So, unlearn that. Remember how to never feel too lonely, how to be creative and revel in the chance to think uninterrupted. I can certainly do that, and it will be good for me in other ways, too. Might even help with doing all the things I procrastinate.
---
That was very soothing and useful. Overall, the blogging to sort out my thought processes is a Really Good Idea, and theirfore should be used. Now, if I can just remember that and make time to do this...
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Remembering to Think
I shouldn't have ignored this blog for so long. It has a lot of use, and does a lot of good. I couldn't think of anything to write before yesterday, though.
My life has been intensely chaotic, mostly because I've been spending too much time with Hiro and not enough on the four or so projects due at the end of this month. wince.
I have been avoiding two of those projects for a reason, though. At the time I chose my topic, I thought it would be wise to do something with emotional value, so I chose topics that are really meaningful to me. Now, as I work on them, I also have to fight my emotional responses. It doesn't really work all that well. It's far too late to change either topic, though.
The next logical solution is to permanently deal with the emotional side that prevents me from being able to work effectively. I don't know how possible that is, but I can start whenever I next have time to write in this blog.
Just want anyone who cares to know I (still) aten't dead and I will not be ignoring this blog much longer.
My life has been intensely chaotic, mostly because I've been spending too much time with Hiro and not enough on the four or so projects due at the end of this month. wince.
I have been avoiding two of those projects for a reason, though. At the time I chose my topic, I thought it would be wise to do something with emotional value, so I chose topics that are really meaningful to me. Now, as I work on them, I also have to fight my emotional responses. It doesn't really work all that well. It's far too late to change either topic, though.
The next logical solution is to permanently deal with the emotional side that prevents me from being able to work effectively. I don't know how possible that is, but I can start whenever I next have time to write in this blog.
Just want anyone who cares to know I (still) aten't dead and I will not be ignoring this blog much longer.
Friday, April 14, 2006
Poetry Meme
Found this here. Apparently it's National poetry month, so post a poem that somehow fits in your blog. Mine is:
First Fig:
My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends -
It gives a lovely light.
By Edna St Vincent Millay. I actually quoted that at someone Sunday, because it was oddly fitting. Everything is beautiful right now, and this is being cross-posted to my eljay at some point.
Other than that, I haven't updated in ages because I haven't been able to think of a subject, and also because I've been not comfortable telling everything that's happening to the world.
I'm arguing a bit more over gender, have a more masculine haircut, and also have a boyfriend. Wore a white shirt, slacks and a tie to a princess tea party today. The tie was flaming rainbow, though, so it worked. He confuses me, but that doesn't matter hugely. I love him very much, and am henceforth going to call him Hiro. Yes, as in Snow Crash.
Tired now, which is good. I can sleep through tomorrow morning anyway. I really should write more in here sometime, though.
First Fig:
My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends -
It gives a lovely light.
By Edna St Vincent Millay. I actually quoted that at someone Sunday, because it was oddly fitting. Everything is beautiful right now, and this is being cross-posted to my eljay at some point.
Other than that, I haven't updated in ages because I haven't been able to think of a subject, and also because I've been not comfortable telling everything that's happening to the world.
I'm arguing a bit more over gender, have a more masculine haircut, and also have a boyfriend. Wore a white shirt, slacks and a tie to a princess tea party today. The tie was flaming rainbow, though, so it worked. He confuses me, but that doesn't matter hugely. I love him very much, and am henceforth going to call him Hiro. Yes, as in Snow Crash.
Tired now, which is good. I can sleep through tomorrow morning anyway. I really should write more in here sometime, though.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
The Gender Post
Normally, I don't talk about my sexual orientation, or gender, or things like that. I don't think about it all that much more often. I label myself: technically bi and poly. Effectively, I am sworn off guys, and attempting (rather pathetically) to limit myself to one person.
What all that means is that I'm attracted, at least some of the time, to both guys and girls, and more than one person at once. However, I am only interested in relationships with girls, and only one at a time. That's as close as I get to simple.
Gender is more complex. In my head, there's no concept of male or female except as a social construct which can comfortably be ignored. I dress as a girl because I like tight-fitting clothing, mostly. That and it's easier to just be what people think of me as. How I act is often seen as female, which is okay. I'm just not exactly either. I am. I exist. I love. That's all. I wear heels because being short is sad. I wear skirts because I do like looking pretty. If I were in a male body, I'd own interesting jackets or something.
Hair is special, though. I hate butch hair-cuts. They say "I'm a girl who'd like to pretend I'm a guy, but I don't actually want to be a guy." They make it not about anything but confusing people. It'd be different if they were actually boys' hair cuts, but they're not. They're girls who'd like people to think they're boys' hair cuts. And that rant was probably terribly offensive to peope. I'm sorry, and I know that's not really the motivation, and I don't even normally think all this, but, yeah. This is not the Censoring Myself for My Audience blog. This is the abstract thought blog.
Anyway, that's that. I'm a genderless being who likes people. That's really all it is until people make it more complicated.
What all that means is that I'm attracted, at least some of the time, to both guys and girls, and more than one person at once. However, I am only interested in relationships with girls, and only one at a time. That's as close as I get to simple.
Gender is more complex. In my head, there's no concept of male or female except as a social construct which can comfortably be ignored. I dress as a girl because I like tight-fitting clothing, mostly. That and it's easier to just be what people think of me as. How I act is often seen as female, which is okay. I'm just not exactly either. I am. I exist. I love. That's all. I wear heels because being short is sad. I wear skirts because I do like looking pretty. If I were in a male body, I'd own interesting jackets or something.
Hair is special, though. I hate butch hair-cuts. They say "I'm a girl who'd like to pretend I'm a guy, but I don't actually want to be a guy." They make it not about anything but confusing people. It'd be different if they were actually boys' hair cuts, but they're not. They're girls who'd like people to think they're boys' hair cuts. And that rant was probably terribly offensive to peope. I'm sorry, and I know that's not really the motivation, and I don't even normally think all this, but, yeah. This is not the Censoring Myself for My Audience blog. This is the abstract thought blog.
Anyway, that's that. I'm a genderless being who likes people. That's really all it is until people make it more complicated.
Friday, February 17, 2006
The Game
How it meshes with the Dance, I don't know. It's existance for me has been accepted on much the same level as the Dance. They aren't the same, though.
The Game is a choice.
People who know me in person might have heard the rant about how the Dance is unchangable and omnipresent, and how we should just ignore it because of that. The Game isn't like that. Most people don't play.
Maybe most people do play, and just don't acknowledge it. Maybe it's one of those things that should be subconsious and isn't for me. In any case, most people aren't governed by it to the extent that I am.
I shouldn't even be posting this. It's breaking all the rules. Soon, my brain will catch up and make me not post this because it's giving away my advantage.
I don't want that advantage anymore. I want out. I want to not second-guess everyone. I want to say what I think, or only change that for tact. I don't want to be keeping myself one step (or two steps, or ten steps) ahead of everyone. I don't want to watch and wait and pretend. I don't want my life to be based on predicting people and avoiding showing my own pattern.
I've been trying to get out of this for weeks now. It's not working. The watching people, finding their motives, is ingrained into how I relate to people now. And of course I can't tell anyone those opinions, because it'd be giving away my hand. I haven't been able to fill out a single johari window, even though everyone's posting them. Nonetheless, here. Fill it out. It'll hurt me like hell, but it'll still be a good thing.
And while I'm at it, this will hurt even more but be healthy for my mind, too.
Posting this quickly before my brain catches up. Almost into panic mode now.
The Game is a choice.
People who know me in person might have heard the rant about how the Dance is unchangable and omnipresent, and how we should just ignore it because of that. The Game isn't like that. Most people don't play.
Maybe most people do play, and just don't acknowledge it. Maybe it's one of those things that should be subconsious and isn't for me. In any case, most people aren't governed by it to the extent that I am.
I shouldn't even be posting this. It's breaking all the rules. Soon, my brain will catch up and make me not post this because it's giving away my advantage.
I don't want that advantage anymore. I want out. I want to not second-guess everyone. I want to say what I think, or only change that for tact. I don't want to be keeping myself one step (or two steps, or ten steps) ahead of everyone. I don't want to watch and wait and pretend. I don't want my life to be based on predicting people and avoiding showing my own pattern.
I've been trying to get out of this for weeks now. It's not working. The watching people, finding their motives, is ingrained into how I relate to people now. And of course I can't tell anyone those opinions, because it'd be giving away my hand. I haven't been able to fill out a single johari window, even though everyone's posting them. Nonetheless, here. Fill it out. It'll hurt me like hell, but it'll still be a good thing.
And while I'm at it, this will hurt even more but be healthy for my mind, too.
Posting this quickly before my brain catches up. Almost into panic mode now.
Thoughts on thoughts4
Not exactly thoughts on thoughts, but intended format is similar. Topic is dreams.
I've been saying lately that I hate dreaming. Lately, that's been true, too. The nature of my dreams hasn't changed much, so obviously (now that I'm writing/thinking) it must be a change of my views on my dreams. So now the question becomes: how do I change back? and: do I want to change back?
Yes, in that order. Changing back probably wouldn't be too difficult. I'd just have to get back into the habit of enjoying the strangeness of my dreams, and overlooking the amount of death/destruction/gore in them. That last thing brings up the second question. I don't want to be unaware of the problems in the world around me, but I don't know if that's even relevant to the dreamworld. Certainly, when I get hurt in dreams, I can make any pain or lasting damage go away fairly easily, and it's not so much that I'm unaware of the destruction, but that I decide it isn't important.
Also to think about: I will continue having strange dreams regardless of whether I hate them or not. Most people would decide that that made the logical course of action be to accept the dreams even if they do have qualities I hate in the waking world. My dreams have been particularly nasty since I started hating them. Accepting them sounds like a good idea, then.
Maybe I can manage to think about all this next time I dream, and try to help the people whose houses are in ruins, or who are going off to a war they aren't prepared for. I tend to be self-aware, creative, and aware that I'm dreaming in my dreams, so I should be able to do something, if I'm not to busy trying to follow the plot. I'll remember that next time I dream, if I can. And no more dreams about deals with the devil that result in the kitchen covered in candle wax, 'k subconscious? 'cause that was a really nasty dream, even if I did manage to not have to give up my soul due to creative ways to melt candles. No, I'm not going to explain the dream.
I've been saying lately that I hate dreaming. Lately, that's been true, too. The nature of my dreams hasn't changed much, so obviously (now that I'm writing/thinking) it must be a change of my views on my dreams. So now the question becomes: how do I change back? and: do I want to change back?
Yes, in that order. Changing back probably wouldn't be too difficult. I'd just have to get back into the habit of enjoying the strangeness of my dreams, and overlooking the amount of death/destruction/gore in them. That last thing brings up the second question. I don't want to be unaware of the problems in the world around me, but I don't know if that's even relevant to the dreamworld. Certainly, when I get hurt in dreams, I can make any pain or lasting damage go away fairly easily, and it's not so much that I'm unaware of the destruction, but that I decide it isn't important.
Also to think about: I will continue having strange dreams regardless of whether I hate them or not. Most people would decide that that made the logical course of action be to accept the dreams even if they do have qualities I hate in the waking world. My dreams have been particularly nasty since I started hating them. Accepting them sounds like a good idea, then.
Maybe I can manage to think about all this next time I dream, and try to help the people whose houses are in ruins, or who are going off to a war they aren't prepared for. I tend to be self-aware, creative, and aware that I'm dreaming in my dreams, so I should be able to do something, if I'm not to busy trying to follow the plot. I'll remember that next time I dream, if I can. And no more dreams about deals with the devil that result in the kitchen covered in candle wax, 'k subconscious? 'cause that was a really nasty dream, even if I did manage to not have to give up my soul due to creative ways to melt candles. No, I'm not going to explain the dream.
Monday, February 06, 2006
emphasis on the lack of coherency
It's 1 in the morning. I'm doing schoolwork that I should have done Saturday (I would say yesterday or day before yesterday, but I'm not sure which) and angsting at myself and generally avoiding sleeping. All of the above are very good signs that I'm in Falling mode again. fun.
Except that it is fun. People are so pretty when they're dying, hurting, when you can taste the blood on their nipples. I suspect that this will be another of those posts that does not last more than a few hours. Maybe I should leave it by way of explanation of why I don't usually write introspective stuff at 1 AM.
I need to stop scaring Michael. It's not fair to him; he didn't ask to be the person who gets to lecture me about leaving bruises on my neck, or my face turning bright red. He didn't say 'I don't mind if you go into accidental altered states of mind around me, during which you nearly kill yourself, then spend half an hour not talking while copying out song lyrics.' He didn't give me permission to be like that around him. I feel horribly guilty, really. It's just that he's there at all the wrong times. I really don't think having 6th period Lit works with my mind. It's better than math, just barely, but it seems to lead to really wierd states of non-communicative-ness.
Anyway, moving away from my personal and typical chaos, onto better things in my life. The latest thing I'm learning, is how to effectively use my energy to produce good results (late-night lit homework notwithstanding). Basically, I'm trying not to waste my energy by using others' methods of doing something. I have a new motto/resolution thing for school:
I don't have the energy to waste learning things from these teachers who cannot teach the way I leard, so I will instead revel in learning the exact same things my way during the time formerly spent forcing myself to learn from teachers.
What this means is that I pay only enough attention in class to know what the assignments are, and what the goal behind them is, then work towards completing the assignments (mostly) and reaching that goal without paying any attention to the teacher at all. One exception to this is Bio, since I actually learn easily from the teacher's style of teaching.
Perhaps I should be doing my lit homework, realizing this is nonsense of the sort I'd never normally tell anyone, deleting this, and going to sleep. If I do that, I promise there will be a better version of that last rant, and no one will ever hear about the other things again.
Except that it is fun. People are so pretty when they're dying, hurting, when you can taste the blood on their nipples. I suspect that this will be another of those posts that does not last more than a few hours. Maybe I should leave it by way of explanation of why I don't usually write introspective stuff at 1 AM.
I need to stop scaring Michael. It's not fair to him; he didn't ask to be the person who gets to lecture me about leaving bruises on my neck, or my face turning bright red. He didn't say 'I don't mind if you go into accidental altered states of mind around me, during which you nearly kill yourself, then spend half an hour not talking while copying out song lyrics.' He didn't give me permission to be like that around him. I feel horribly guilty, really. It's just that he's there at all the wrong times. I really don't think having 6th period Lit works with my mind. It's better than math, just barely, but it seems to lead to really wierd states of non-communicative-ness.
Anyway, moving away from my personal and typical chaos, onto better things in my life. The latest thing I'm learning, is how to effectively use my energy to produce good results (late-night lit homework notwithstanding). Basically, I'm trying not to waste my energy by using others' methods of doing something. I have a new motto/resolution thing for school:
I don't have the energy to waste learning things from these teachers who cannot teach the way I leard, so I will instead revel in learning the exact same things my way during the time formerly spent forcing myself to learn from teachers.
What this means is that I pay only enough attention in class to know what the assignments are, and what the goal behind them is, then work towards completing the assignments (mostly) and reaching that goal without paying any attention to the teacher at all. One exception to this is Bio, since I actually learn easily from the teacher's style of teaching.
Perhaps I should be doing my lit homework, realizing this is nonsense of the sort I'd never normally tell anyone, deleting this, and going to sleep. If I do that, I promise there will be a better version of that last rant, and no one will ever hear about the other things again.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Centers
There's a place inside myself where I go when I want to be safe. It used to be a lake, perfectly frozen with no time passing. The deer on the opposite shore always posed exactly the same, no ripples on the water, the trees blown by a wind that could no longer be felt. Then it'd start to rain, the first drop falling slowly to the lake near where I sat and creating a series of concentric rings. The deer would stare for a minute, then run away, and I'd be sitting on a wet hillside overlooking a lake during the storm. Eventually, the rain would stop, birds would come out, and the wind would die down. Very soothing, but also very sad.
That died more than six months ago. I can still go back, but the image is becoming more grayscale, not that it had much color to begin with. Slate gray lake, graybrown bare trees, brown deer, very light green grass, gray dead leaves.
The new place is much more alive. Less soothing, but more beautiful. I don't want to describe it in much detail while it's still my quiet place. It's a redwood forest. That much I feel okay saying. It's a wonderful place to have.
I have no idea why I wrote all this down, but it seems to be important so I'll leave it alone.
That died more than six months ago. I can still go back, but the image is becoming more grayscale, not that it had much color to begin with. Slate gray lake, graybrown bare trees, brown deer, very light green grass, gray dead leaves.
The new place is much more alive. Less soothing, but more beautiful. I don't want to describe it in much detail while it's still my quiet place. It's a redwood forest. That much I feel okay saying. It's a wonderful place to have.
I have no idea why I wrote all this down, but it seems to be important so I'll leave it alone.
Friday, January 20, 2006
The Dance
Yes, life's a dance and we're all part of it.
But it's not about being ornamental. It's not about the pretty shapes we make, or the twirls or the dresses. It's not about how well you dance, who you dance with.
The only thing that matters to the dance is the dance, and that it goes on. And it goes on automatically. So don't think about the dance. Really.
Okay, so if you really want, you can choose a partner once in a while.
But still. Just keep doing whatever. Life will go on. The dance will continue to be breathtakingly marvelous. It really doesn't matter.
Oh, and since I'm in a strange mood today, remember to wear sunscreen.
On a more serious note, my main issue with the dance is how what we call dancing is so pathetic-seeming in comparison. But I already wrote a poem about that rant, so I'm going to stop now. If you really want to, you can read A History Best Forgotten. But it's nonsensical and depressing, and I have no idea what the title means.
But it's not about being ornamental. It's not about the pretty shapes we make, or the twirls or the dresses. It's not about how well you dance, who you dance with.
The only thing that matters to the dance is the dance, and that it goes on. And it goes on automatically. So don't think about the dance. Really.
Okay, so if you really want, you can choose a partner once in a while.
But still. Just keep doing whatever. Life will go on. The dance will continue to be breathtakingly marvelous. It really doesn't matter.
Oh, and since I'm in a strange mood today, remember to wear sunscreen.
On a more serious note, my main issue with the dance is how what we call dancing is so pathetic-seeming in comparison. But I already wrote a poem about that rant, so I'm going to stop now. If you really want to, you can read A History Best Forgotten. But it's nonsensical and depressing, and I have no idea what the title means.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Thoughts on thoughts3
Finally feeling mostly better, and got around to making this blog look slightly less hideous. Must remind self to learn how to make it nicer, though. Can't be bothered right now.
Thought focus for the remainder of this entry will be deterioration of symbolism and superstition in current phase.
I've been noticing that things that used to have a great deal of symbolic importance to me don't anymore. The sun shines on the flowers, I look out the window, think, "that's pretty," and go back to whatever I'm doing. Halloween was just fun and getting candy and being out with friends while it was dark, no sense of All Hallows' at all. Friday the 13th was much the same as any other Friday, albeit a very pleasant one.
Last year, there were times when seeing the sun shine on the flowers was enough to pull me out of really dark depressions. Halloween felt sickly and dangerous the whole time, and Friday 13 August 2004 and Friday 13 May, 2005 will forever be embedded in my mind.
So obviously, something has changed. My old symbolisms are no longer relevant, except for the ones that have always been relevant (and a little voice in my mind says "We have always been at war with Eurasia"). That was really confusing punctuation. I think I got it wrong. Moving on.
I guess I'm just developing new symbolisms and they're less superstition-based than the old ones. Not at all a bad thing, though the sun shining on the flowers was a really cool symbolism to have. Paper cranes are a pretty awesome replacement, so I guess I don't mind too much.
I should get some lunch. Eating regular meals is goood.
Thought focus for the remainder of this entry will be deterioration of symbolism and superstition in current phase.
I've been noticing that things that used to have a great deal of symbolic importance to me don't anymore. The sun shines on the flowers, I look out the window, think, "that's pretty," and go back to whatever I'm doing. Halloween was just fun and getting candy and being out with friends while it was dark, no sense of All Hallows' at all. Friday the 13th was much the same as any other Friday, albeit a very pleasant one.
Last year, there were times when seeing the sun shine on the flowers was enough to pull me out of really dark depressions. Halloween felt sickly and dangerous the whole time, and Friday 13 August 2004 and Friday 13 May, 2005 will forever be embedded in my mind.
So obviously, something has changed. My old symbolisms are no longer relevant, except for the ones that have always been relevant (and a little voice in my mind says "We have always been at war with Eurasia"). That was really confusing punctuation. I think I got it wrong. Moving on.
I guess I'm just developing new symbolisms and they're less superstition-based than the old ones. Not at all a bad thing, though the sun shining on the flowers was a really cool symbolism to have. Paper cranes are a pretty awesome replacement, so I guess I don't mind too much.
I should get some lunch. Eating regular meals is goood.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Rebirth
My life goes through phases. I've been mapping the cycles of joy and sorrow for years, now. That's just the most basic of cycles. There are others I map; hormones, biorythms, mental forms. There are bigger ones, which last too long to map. There are cycles so long they contain entire lives. I've just started a new one.
For the basic cycles, this means almost nothing. The joy-sorrow is restarted from calm joy. The biorythms are still in their winter patterns. For the mental forms, it means more. Last phase, Lynx was in ascent. I was very sexual, annoyingly so. Lynx went into hiding at that death, several months ago, leaving a period of confused stasis. Now, something calling eirself Angelis Lunaris is rising. Almost non-sexual, but really really physical. Too delicate for this world, really, which cannot end well.
The fall of any angel-type is horrible. Hopefully, there will be one or two people to see em through it. Ey keeps pushing people away, says ey's keeping away from harmful bonds. This looks like it'll be a strange life.
To be devoted to healing ourself and writing. I promise.
As for all the ey's used to refer to Angelis Lunaris (ey really needs a nickname), ey's a completely non-sexual being and has no gender.
For the basic cycles, this means almost nothing. The joy-sorrow is restarted from calm joy. The biorythms are still in their winter patterns. For the mental forms, it means more. Last phase, Lynx was in ascent. I was very sexual, annoyingly so. Lynx went into hiding at that death, several months ago, leaving a period of confused stasis. Now, something calling eirself Angelis Lunaris is rising. Almost non-sexual, but really really physical. Too delicate for this world, really, which cannot end well.
The fall of any angel-type is horrible. Hopefully, there will be one or two people to see em through it. Ey keeps pushing people away, says ey's keeping away from harmful bonds. This looks like it'll be a strange life.
To be devoted to healing ourself and writing. I promise.
As for all the ey's used to refer to Angelis Lunaris (ey really needs a nickname), ey's a completely non-sexual being and has no gender.
Friday, January 06, 2006
Random Thought
People collected enough to ask 'who am I?' already know the answer. Maybe just subconsiously, but still... Not knowing is complete disconnection from reality, from everything.
And the music must keep playing. While it plays, I don't have to think/worry.
And the music must keep playing. While it plays, I don't have to think/worry.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Thoughts on thoughts2
Too much going on in my head right now to bother with a topic. Just need to writ stuff down.
I'm getting really avoidant. I just can't let myself get into arguements anymore, ever. If I'm angry at someone, I avoid them, lie to them and say it's fine, or act sarcastic enough that they stop talking to me. I never let myself be direct, do anything I can think of to avoid conflict. It's not working. I just am terrified of changing it.
If this were in the journal I use for personal mental notes, I'd write down that I should change it.
I know that's the case because that's how things work for me. If I find a problem with how my mind is working, I write down 'I should change this' and send the thought into my mind. My subconsious deals with whatever-it-is and I move on. The fixes often aren't very good, though. It's strange to hear people complaining about how they wish they could change the way they thought about certain things. Thought is completely controlable. Anything mental is. I don't know how I'd stand it if that weren't true.
I don't want to be writing anymore now. I have other things I want to write about, but I don't want to actually type them. Inside of my head is too noisy.
I'm getting really avoidant. I just can't let myself get into arguements anymore, ever. If I'm angry at someone, I avoid them, lie to them and say it's fine, or act sarcastic enough that they stop talking to me. I never let myself be direct, do anything I can think of to avoid conflict. It's not working. I just am terrified of changing it.
If this were in the journal I use for personal mental notes, I'd write down that I should change it.
I know that's the case because that's how things work for me. If I find a problem with how my mind is working, I write down 'I should change this' and send the thought into my mind. My subconsious deals with whatever-it-is and I move on. The fixes often aren't very good, though. It's strange to hear people complaining about how they wish they could change the way they thought about certain things. Thought is completely controlable. Anything mental is. I don't know how I'd stand it if that weren't true.
I don't want to be writing anymore now. I have other things I want to write about, but I don't want to actually type them. Inside of my head is too noisy.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Thoughts on thoughts1
This is an exploration of the way I think. I hope to do them fairly regularly. No goal, no structure. Start with a notice* and work from there.
Today, starting with 'when I dream, buildings go down instead of up.' I hadn't noticed that until I was describing this dream about a giant department store/library to someone. In the dreams, it seems perfectly natural. You enter the store on the ground level, or sometimes above ground level if the streets are above ground level (which has been known to happen in my dreams) and go down to the second floor. Usually by way of an old wooden staircase. Since the rooms are underground, there are no windows, but there's plenty of light from lamps and such. It's slightly warm light, but not as yellow as the music room is currently. Nevermind, that's only the library, which makes sense.
Anyway, I automatically think that way. One reason could be that I like being underground. That's true, but doesn't really explain much. It feels so weird to be interpreting my dreams this way, like something my mother would do. Mostly, though her explanations make a lot of sense. Another theory, one I've been working with lately, is that I like to think in the opposite direction from most people. If civilization is going forwards, if most peoples' thoughts move forwards, mine move backwards. I wrote a poem about it for extra credit on a math test, but that poem sucks.
This has deteriorated into the sort of thing I don't post even more quickly than expected. Maybe I'll post it anyway. It certainly shows lots about my thought process. Written as close to stream-of-consiousness as I get. You can't show all the colors and textures of emotion in writing anyway.
*the colored words in this journal are used to indicate a word used with a meaning differing at least slightly from it's standard usage. A notice is an observation.
Today, starting with 'when I dream, buildings go down instead of up.' I hadn't noticed that until I was describing this dream about a giant department store/library to someone. In the dreams, it seems perfectly natural. You enter the store on the ground level, or sometimes above ground level if the streets are above ground level (which has been known to happen in my dreams) and go down to the second floor. Usually by way of an old wooden staircase. Since the rooms are underground, there are no windows, but there's plenty of light from lamps and such. It's slightly warm light, but not as yellow as the music room is currently. Nevermind, that's only the library, which makes sense.
Anyway, I automatically think that way. One reason could be that I like being underground. That's true, but doesn't really explain much. It feels so weird to be interpreting my dreams this way, like something my mother would do. Mostly, though her explanations make a lot of sense. Another theory, one I've been working with lately, is that I like to think in the opposite direction from most people. If civilization is going forwards, if most peoples' thoughts move forwards, mine move backwards. I wrote a poem about it for extra credit on a math test, but that poem sucks.
This has deteriorated into the sort of thing I don't post even more quickly than expected. Maybe I'll post it anyway. It certainly shows lots about my thought process. Written as close to stream-of-consiousness as I get. You can't show all the colors and textures of emotion in writing anyway.
*the colored words in this journal are used to indicate a word used with a meaning differing at least slightly from it's standard usage. A notice is an observation.
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