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.
Friday, February 17, 2006
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.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Names
I've collected nicknames for myself since I was seven or so. Every few years, I'll find one that really fits, and it will become my usename. No 'r' in that.
For the last few years, I was so obsessed with dividing up my consiousness that I didn't have one name. I went by my birth name, or a combination of names, or whichever name fit my mood. Lately, that hasn't been working so well. I'm starting to feel like I need a name that I choose for myself for use at least in my head.
I came up with my name a while ago, but only decided it actually fit well last night (or earlier today, really). I'm Riva now, in my head. It comes from Alarivana, but uses a combination of letters that never was a name before. It's clearly related to Rivka, which apparently means something to me now. It also is pronounced Reava, making me think of Reavers and reminding me of the side of myself I like to forget. It's a good name.
I have no idea if I want to use this in person. If people start calling me by it, I won't mind, but it doesn't matter that much. In past, I wouldn't have even told this name to anyone, because it's too close to my true name, and I'm superstitious. I didn't know true names very well when I came to that conclusion. Mine doesn't translate into sound, so I figure I'm safe.
One name I don't want to be called is Alarivana. I never was Alarivana. She's a character of mine, not me.
For the last few years, I was so obsessed with dividing up my consiousness that I didn't have one name. I went by my birth name, or a combination of names, or whichever name fit my mood. Lately, that hasn't been working so well. I'm starting to feel like I need a name that I choose for myself for use at least in my head.
I came up with my name a while ago, but only decided it actually fit well last night (or earlier today, really). I'm Riva now, in my head. It comes from Alarivana, but uses a combination of letters that never was a name before. It's clearly related to Rivka, which apparently means something to me now. It also is pronounced Reava, making me think of Reavers and reminding me of the side of myself I like to forget. It's a good name.
I have no idea if I want to use this in person. If people start calling me by it, I won't mind, but it doesn't matter that much. In past, I wouldn't have even told this name to anyone, because it's too close to my true name, and I'm superstitious. I didn't know true names very well when I came to that conclusion. Mine doesn't translate into sound, so I figure I'm safe.
One name I don't want to be called is Alarivana. I never was Alarivana. She's a character of mine, not me.
First Thoughts
So I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and most of it isn't stuff that fits very well into words. When I do find words, they're full concepts expressed as simple statements that make little or no sense. I really don't like explaining them. For tonight, my idea is:
People assume I'm depressed because I don't express joy.
hmm. There actually is a bit of explaining/extension that goes with that thought. In myself, that assumption is different. I don't determine my own emotions based on what I express to the world, unlike people-who-aren't-me. However, I still make the mistake of assuming I'm depressed. I think it comes down to the fact that I don't feel anything I'd guess was joy based on the people around me's expressions of joy. Nothing I feel would make me want to react the way most people do when they feel joy. I can't imagine why it took me this long to realize that, especially since I spent so long when I was younger learning to have facial expression. It wasn't automatic. Most body language wasn't. And so now, I have to figure out what joy feels like, not in terms of gestures, but in terms of the weight of the emotion. If anyone ever reads this (I've yet to decide if I'll give out a link) any advice would be welcome.
People assume I'm depressed because I don't express joy.
hmm. There actually is a bit of explaining/extension that goes with that thought. In myself, that assumption is different. I don't determine my own emotions based on what I express to the world, unlike people-who-aren't-me. However, I still make the mistake of assuming I'm depressed. I think it comes down to the fact that I don't feel anything I'd guess was joy based on the people around me's expressions of joy. Nothing I feel would make me want to react the way most people do when they feel joy. I can't imagine why it took me this long to realize that, especially since I spent so long when I was younger learning to have facial expression. It wasn't automatic. Most body language wasn't. And so now, I have to figure out what joy feels like, not in terms of gestures, but in terms of the weight of the emotion. If anyone ever reads this (I've yet to decide if I'll give out a link) any advice would be welcome.
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