1/28

Thoughts. Thoughts. Thoughts. More Thoughts.

Getting specific is the hardest thing for me to do.

Sometimes I really wish that I could just say things in general terms and everyone would understand - no details needed. Unfortunately that's the opposite of the world and in the words of John Green, one of my biggest inspirations, "The truth resists simplicity". As a writer it's almost tedious sometimes to develop what is already so vivid inside your head, but you can't ignore it. You have to explain because obviously your reader doesn't understand what's in your mind's eye.

I think that's why I can be a professional writer someday - there are days I don't neccesarily want to write so that other people will enjoy, but by some strange conviction I understand that I have to. Even when writing isn't as fun as it was the day before or will be tomorrow I do it. It's weird, but strangely right for me.

My writer's block remains, but it's getting better. There is no instant cure for it - you just have to somehow plow back all the garbage and get to the gold (or perhaps it's more like sifting through the racks at Ross - yeah, that's a lot more accurate actually). You spend these hours thinking about what could work and you hold it up to you and shake your head, and then, suddenly, you stumble on the thing that looks worth it and lo and behold, it is.

Fantasy writing is that thing that looks worth it right now, though I'm not sure if it matches anything in my closet.

Like an austentatious pair of shoes or something - I don't really know, but I'm back to being general.

My friend Sydney gave me a watch from Comic Con. It's startrek. It's awesome.
She is one of many people that continually surprise me about what it means to be kind or generous or just thinking about someone else.

That watch is so legit. I can't believe she gave it to me.
It's so cool.

Obviously, there's been a lot going on in my life. Stuff I can't control, stuff I can.
I want to cry sometimes, but I've gotten pretty damn good at hiding it. I don't ever really cry though - I stay up late and think about things.

My mom always asks what I'm thinking about when I respond 'I'm thinking' to 'what are you doing?'.
Ever since I was little my imagination has been overactive and too-vivid. I get lost in every day situations, expostulating the mundane to the dramatic, always looking to emulate or experiment with scenarios, both hypothetical and real.

Sometimes it feels bad because when I'm attempting to be genuine I catch myself just acting on whim to see what will happen, expirimenting with words. I don't do it maliciously. It's innocent. I've always been a pretty independent person. Leave me alone, even with my best friends, for more than two days and I start to get weird. I seek out being by myself, time to sit and literally just think.

If I never entertained my fancies I think I'd explode with them. It's when I need the thoughts that they don't come though. So frustrating.

I need ideas to do for VASE project (Art competition. I'm doing water colors). I want to impress, but I think, mostly, I want to impress myself or maybe someone else. Maybe my heart. It needs to have a meaning behind it - the piece, not impressing myself. I think I want to be honest with it, but I'll get carried away. I always do.

My mind could twist it some odd direction. Who knows.

I love my friends.
Shout outs to Lena and Matt-Matt and Greg. You guys look so tired. I worry about you constantly. I can't wait till that stupid show is over so you can get healthy, though I understand your need to do it. I just worry.
Worry Worry Worry.

And sometimes I really do wonder if people worry about me. It's the trouble with being mature about bad situations. Even when you do want to cry, you don't because the tears won't come and you start to think that people don't care about you anymore.

I don't know.
I'll just keep worrying about it I guess. It always works.
There was more, but I forgot it. Maybe tomorrow?

Yeah. Tomorrow.

No. Wait. I remember.
It makes me hurt more than anything else to think how lonely that is. It's even lonlier than the rejection and the easiness of letting me go. It hurts a lot to think that no one cares. Because I do.
But I don't think you understand.

And I'm really sorry that it's so horrible and sad and lonely. Because I will worry for you, but you pretend like I don't matter.

I heard a song yesterday.
I burst into tears. One of those old ones.
I thought about dancing at my wedding with you.

It hurts. But I know it's not something I can control.
So I'll just cry alone and then hypocritically ask if someone cares.

It's just not fair.

And remain as confusing as this blog (and as poorly spelled. I'm not spellchecking. I want you all to see how honestly stupid I am with words and their spellings.)

Picture of The Day:

There's this place in Bolivia called 'Altiplano'.
It's like, a salt flat desert thing, a giant plateau.
I first saw this picture in a National Geographic.

It's so flat it literally reflects the sky straight onto the water so it looks like you're standing in the sky - it's another thing that makes me cry. Can you even imagine what that would be like? I think I would just cry and cry and cry and give everything up to the clouds and God.

I think I would stand there and sob and feel safe, knowing I'd touched something like that, that I'd held the sky in my hands or under my feet.

I think I want to go there someday and stand there and sob and feel close to God or something. I would just cry and cry and cry.

At least, that's what I think.

(I dream of walking in the sky. I dream of it sometimes, in my head. Thinking.)