Ever had those times where you're so excited about something you can't concentrate on anything else? Who am I kidding? Of course you have. Well, you could be a miserable miserable being with no aspirations or even mundane hopes, but I sincerely doubt that. After all, why would you be reading this? No no, check that. I suppose if you didn't care about anything you wouldn't care what you read, either. Am I right? Of course. I'm smart like that.
Anywho, as you can probably see by now, I'm having one of those aforementioned moments. I really want to work on my book, but I have this funky little story rolling about in my head about a werewolf and a schizo girl who can turn into a wolf (there's a difference, trust me). It was, oddly enough, inspired by my watching of New Moon last night, which sickened me so much I just had to...change it. You know? Omit the vampires entirely, make Bella a minor character and focus on the wolf pack? I'm sure you have no idea what I'm talking about. Don't worry. By the time I'm through with it it won't look anything like the original story anyway.
Only thing is, I have to get it out of the way before I can work on my book. I have to get rid of my constant headache to do either, and even if it goes away I'll have to do the school I'm putting off (for this very reason) before I get to anything else. Thus, by the time I have the time and capacity to write anything worth reading my excitement will have waned, and I will no longer have the motivation to write. Life is sad that way.
Also, my Macaroni tastes a bit like barbecue. Anyone wanna hazard a guess as to why?
Showing posts with label Ramblings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ramblings. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
School
Mood: Cumulus by Imogen Heap
I suppose that says it all. Today I realized that I have to switch geometry books again (I've had to twice already this school year), because the one I'm using doesn't prepare me at all for the SAT. As I am staking my life and future happiness on attending Christopher Newport University for college, I need a good SAT score. And, just to be clear, I'm not good at math.
Fine. Moms says I'm very able to pick up and retain the fundamentals of math. But let's face it: It's so boring! I want to write, and dance, and sing, and play guitar or piano (whichever is nearest at the time) even more than usual when I'm sitting down and trying to do math. Unfortunately, the world seems to view math as an important subject, and will teach us far more than we will likely ever use in our adult lives whether we like it or not.
On the other hand, I have basically everything else I need to get into college set, and a good idea of what I want to do. Multi-million-dollar author, anyone? Well, a girl can dream. In the absence of that, I'll be a psychologist. More specifically, a counselor for teenage girls, 'cause we definitely need more of those in the world. Not to mention, I'm a good listener. And I'm nosy. Well...not really. Merely an indomitably curious being.
In either case, I most definitely will not need very much higher math skill.
And while I write this I am wasting the precious little time I have to pack for a trip this weekend. I suppose I should get to that.
I suppose that says it all. Today I realized that I have to switch geometry books again (I've had to twice already this school year), because the one I'm using doesn't prepare me at all for the SAT. As I am staking my life and future happiness on attending Christopher Newport University for college, I need a good SAT score. And, just to be clear, I'm not good at math.
Fine. Moms says I'm very able to pick up and retain the fundamentals of math. But let's face it: It's so boring! I want to write, and dance, and sing, and play guitar or piano (whichever is nearest at the time) even more than usual when I'm sitting down and trying to do math. Unfortunately, the world seems to view math as an important subject, and will teach us far more than we will likely ever use in our adult lives whether we like it or not.
On the other hand, I have basically everything else I need to get into college set, and a good idea of what I want to do. Multi-million-dollar author, anyone? Well, a girl can dream. In the absence of that, I'll be a psychologist. More specifically, a counselor for teenage girls, 'cause we definitely need more of those in the world. Not to mention, I'm a good listener. And I'm nosy. Well...not really. Merely an indomitably curious being.
In either case, I most definitely will not need very much higher math skill.
And while I write this I am wasting the precious little time I have to pack for a trip this weekend. I suppose I should get to that.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Fissures in My Mind
I suppose I'm really tired, or I had some sort of revelation, or something, because I have such a will to write right now. I get that a lot, but I don't have any stories going on in my head, or novels I want to express in four or less paragraphs. I just want to vomit onto the page and read it back tomorrow, laughing at my funky thoughts and whims. Everything i write, I don't have to look back and fix, or edit, 'cause I know I'm the only who's going to really read this. Unless, by a whim, I set this note to be open to the public. But even then, not many people care enough to look over the inner working of my mind when they try and fail to explain themselves within the boundaries of a single note. I suppose if they want to get a dumbed down version of me, they could look at what other people have said about my notes. But if everyone did that, I wouldn't have any comments at all. And that would make me sort of sad.
Single file, my thoughts roll down the ramp of my fingers and into the computer, popping up as neat little lines of letter on the screen. I think I'm doing pretty well until I get three or four extremely oppressive thoughts at once, and they tumble all over the path of my hand, and then I forget where I was going in the beginning. My train of thought is then struck by a curve-ball, and I must pursue it miles along this new track before I can get myself straight again, and by then I have forgotten most if not all of what I wished to say. Unless, that is, I didn't really wish to say anything in particular, at which point my ramblings will eventually follow themselves in circle, and my reasoning and beliefs will all follow back to the same point.
What I love the best is when fifty trains of thought are running around simultaneously. I have sometimes manged to be thinking coherently about five or six things at the same time, though I must admit that this is mostly the case only after i have been babysitting two or more children. It is remarkable how a woman can train herself to multitask when necessary. Even though, it seems, the mind cannot truly focus on two things at once, I believe multitasking is merely the pursuit of getting along with more than one goal and arriving at it passably well. Or, if worst comes to worst, in a way that has barred most major catastrophe's. After all, you will still get paid and thanked for babysitting even if you managed to get the young one locked in a room by itself, so long as you manage to get them out before it hurts itself or the parent arrives.
Mind you, this is not what we should strive for in our lives. Just as you are likely to cross any or all of your personal boundaries in your life my mistake, you are likely not to completely reach all of your goal. Thus, you must give yourself some 'wiggle room', holding yourself to a higher standard but not kicking yourself about your occasional failures. One the other hand, holding yourself to be perfect is an absolute trap, because then you become so worried about your goal that you give up many other things, such as enjoyment and attachment, in order to achieve it. No human is perfect, I believe, and I very much doubt any will be able to sway my perspective, for I have seen those little specks of evil in even the most saintly of my acquaintances, and much more than a speck of it in myself.
Then there come the times when your thoughts do not move at all. Your fingers and tongue are on their own, and until you can think again you must improvise everything you do and say, often making an enormous fool out of yourself in the process. I find this happens most often when a person is thrown headfirst into a new situation, and they look around blankly while their minds try and figure out exactly how they really feel about the situation. Either that, or they understand right off the bat that they are very uncomfortable, and therefore their minds just hide away, and refuse to work until they've had the time to rid themselves of the overload of the senses they were just experiencing. Some people are very adaptable. Some accept it, but are slow to change. Some resist most indomitably. Others, like me, very much dislike change in any way, but have grudgingly accepted the it's not the end of the world, and thus adapt quite quickly.
Lastly, there are distractions. It doesn't matter how focused and smart you can be if you didn't get enough sleep, and everyone has those days. As I write this, I fight the urge to answer a friends post on one of my sites, and my muse is flying about crazily in my mind, spouting out theories and dialogue and many other essential elements of word crafting. They come in all shapes and sizes, especially when one is thinking whilst on the computer. They never end, in fact, for one has toys and books and board games and Internet and console games and friends and TV and music and many, many other things. For one so tired as I, who got a maximum of five hours of sleep last night, this is all too much for me to handle, and I am apt to launch myself in one thing for fifteen minutes before realizing I had before been halfway through one thing or another. Listening to mood music helps, but sometimes it just makes me emotional and irrationally introspective, my logic warped by lack of rest.
I suppose the aforementioned was not lastly. Lastly is when I am alone, or with a small group of friends, in a world without distractions. We are together with God, and we are listening and praising him, and feeling contented and peaceful and not at all trying to quell our thoughts for want of hearing those of our friends. I suppose I have done it a dozen times or more, but I am always truly surprised at how much worry and panic my Lord can and will take away from me when I go to him. I realize which desires of mine are from him simply because they are not snuffed out first thing. I realize where I have been thinking and acting wrong, and I do not fight myself over it. I make it a part of myself, removing the old fiber and weaving in the new, improved one. And then I realize the most important thing of all: I am not the most important. I am the least, the last, and the smallest, and I am merely there to help others when they need it. I do not seek out others so that they may faun over me, but so that I may be their support and experience their laughter. It is most important to me that I am serving others, acting as unspoken guide and support. I draw more happiness from this than from any other activity I've ever ventured to try.
Single file, my thoughts roll down the ramp of my fingers and into the computer, popping up as neat little lines of letter on the screen. I think I'm doing pretty well until I get three or four extremely oppressive thoughts at once, and they tumble all over the path of my hand, and then I forget where I was going in the beginning. My train of thought is then struck by a curve-ball, and I must pursue it miles along this new track before I can get myself straight again, and by then I have forgotten most if not all of what I wished to say. Unless, that is, I didn't really wish to say anything in particular, at which point my ramblings will eventually follow themselves in circle, and my reasoning and beliefs will all follow back to the same point.
What I love the best is when fifty trains of thought are running around simultaneously. I have sometimes manged to be thinking coherently about five or six things at the same time, though I must admit that this is mostly the case only after i have been babysitting two or more children. It is remarkable how a woman can train herself to multitask when necessary. Even though, it seems, the mind cannot truly focus on two things at once, I believe multitasking is merely the pursuit of getting along with more than one goal and arriving at it passably well. Or, if worst comes to worst, in a way that has barred most major catastrophe's. After all, you will still get paid and thanked for babysitting even if you managed to get the young one locked in a room by itself, so long as you manage to get them out before it hurts itself or the parent arrives.
Mind you, this is not what we should strive for in our lives. Just as you are likely to cross any or all of your personal boundaries in your life my mistake, you are likely not to completely reach all of your goal. Thus, you must give yourself some 'wiggle room', holding yourself to a higher standard but not kicking yourself about your occasional failures. One the other hand, holding yourself to be perfect is an absolute trap, because then you become so worried about your goal that you give up many other things, such as enjoyment and attachment, in order to achieve it. No human is perfect, I believe, and I very much doubt any will be able to sway my perspective, for I have seen those little specks of evil in even the most saintly of my acquaintances, and much more than a speck of it in myself.
Then there come the times when your thoughts do not move at all. Your fingers and tongue are on their own, and until you can think again you must improvise everything you do and say, often making an enormous fool out of yourself in the process. I find this happens most often when a person is thrown headfirst into a new situation, and they look around blankly while their minds try and figure out exactly how they really feel about the situation. Either that, or they understand right off the bat that they are very uncomfortable, and therefore their minds just hide away, and refuse to work until they've had the time to rid themselves of the overload of the senses they were just experiencing. Some people are very adaptable. Some accept it, but are slow to change. Some resist most indomitably. Others, like me, very much dislike change in any way, but have grudgingly accepted the it's not the end of the world, and thus adapt quite quickly.
Lastly, there are distractions. It doesn't matter how focused and smart you can be if you didn't get enough sleep, and everyone has those days. As I write this, I fight the urge to answer a friends post on one of my sites, and my muse is flying about crazily in my mind, spouting out theories and dialogue and many other essential elements of word crafting. They come in all shapes and sizes, especially when one is thinking whilst on the computer. They never end, in fact, for one has toys and books and board games and Internet and console games and friends and TV and music and many, many other things. For one so tired as I, who got a maximum of five hours of sleep last night, this is all too much for me to handle, and I am apt to launch myself in one thing for fifteen minutes before realizing I had before been halfway through one thing or another. Listening to mood music helps, but sometimes it just makes me emotional and irrationally introspective, my logic warped by lack of rest.
I suppose the aforementioned was not lastly. Lastly is when I am alone, or with a small group of friends, in a world without distractions. We are together with God, and we are listening and praising him, and feeling contented and peaceful and not at all trying to quell our thoughts for want of hearing those of our friends. I suppose I have done it a dozen times or more, but I am always truly surprised at how much worry and panic my Lord can and will take away from me when I go to him. I realize which desires of mine are from him simply because they are not snuffed out first thing. I realize where I have been thinking and acting wrong, and I do not fight myself over it. I make it a part of myself, removing the old fiber and weaving in the new, improved one. And then I realize the most important thing of all: I am not the most important. I am the least, the last, and the smallest, and I am merely there to help others when they need it. I do not seek out others so that they may faun over me, but so that I may be their support and experience their laughter. It is most important to me that I am serving others, acting as unspoken guide and support. I draw more happiness from this than from any other activity I've ever ventured to try.
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