Everybody knows
Saturday, November 18, 2006
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Wednesday, November 15, 2006
In which I complain about having writer's block, but still end up bs-ing for almost four paragraphs.
I did have good intentions of posting every day, but it seems that I've already - this early in the game - encountered blogger's block. Oh, and just for the record. Those normal things I said I'd write about last time? The Prestige, The Fountain, A Good Year, and that new Will Ferrell movie that I can never remember the name of but where he surprisingly does not act like a total idiot; Jessica Simpson; and approximately 7 hours ago.
That's about the extent of my inspiration right now.
I am having trouble dealing with the fact that Thanksgiving is next week. Really, can you believe that? I just really can not. I think this may have something to do with the fact that I'm not at home this year. Normally, I would be talking to my aunts and cousins about what we want to eat and what each person is going to cook. Also, I'm probably going to drive back to Hattiesburg Thanksgiving night. Talk about growing up and being on your own. Suck.
I have one of those close knit families where everyone still lives in the same town, and takes advantage of every conceivable excuse to get together and eat. I have seen every member of my extended family at least once a week for every week of my life. Until four and a half months ago. I am actually the very first member of my family to move away from the Natchez area. Let's just say it's been kind of a tough transition. Also, a tough transition? Having to deal with working holidays. I've got Thanksgiving free, but we're back to work the next day; and I have to stay and walk Christmas Eve morning and New Years Day. It's a little weird, and a little sad, to be missing out on all the goings on with my family and friends at home.
On a brighter note, I should still be able to make the annual Christmas shopping trip with my sister, aunts, and cousins. My sister and I are still the babies, so we're bound to come away with some nice loot.
That's about the extent of my inspiration right now.
I am having trouble dealing with the fact that Thanksgiving is next week. Really, can you believe that? I just really can not. I think this may have something to do with the fact that I'm not at home this year. Normally, I would be talking to my aunts and cousins about what we want to eat and what each person is going to cook. Also, I'm probably going to drive back to Hattiesburg Thanksgiving night. Talk about growing up and being on your own. Suck.
I have one of those close knit families where everyone still lives in the same town, and takes advantage of every conceivable excuse to get together and eat. I have seen every member of my extended family at least once a week for every week of my life. Until four and a half months ago. I am actually the very first member of my family to move away from the Natchez area. Let's just say it's been kind of a tough transition. Also, a tough transition? Having to deal with working holidays. I've got Thanksgiving free, but we're back to work the next day; and I have to stay and walk Christmas Eve morning and New Years Day. It's a little weird, and a little sad, to be missing out on all the goings on with my family and friends at home.
On a brighter note, I should still be able to make the annual Christmas shopping trip with my sister, aunts, and cousins. My sister and I are still the babies, so we're bound to come away with some nice loot.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Look, I'm back again already!
I am so on top of things. Well, actually I probably shouldn't be allowed to say that since I've spent at least half of my day sleeping. I mean I do get up every day and go to work at 7:30, and I did go walk dogs at 8 this morning. And I really couldn't sleep last night. But still. The laziness is appalling.
Other than sleeping my life away, I have been reading this awesome book that I bought last night. I've already made it almost half way through the book, and all of the essays have been wonderful. Some are very serious, very global, while others are events relevant to the author alone. But each one is just that - relevant. If to know one else, then to the author himself. You can tell that these stories come from their hearts, from the best that they have. Most of them are deeply personal. Some of these essays I can't really relate to all, having never been in a similar situation, but most of them I could relate to on some level. Some experiences are just universal.
For instance, how if feels to have your friends become more important than your lover. To develop such extreme loyalty to the ones who are always there and always know what to do and say, and then blame the poor guy who can't live up to them (even if this is only in your own mind).
And also, the essay about OCD? More than just relatable. I blame countless little tics on the mild case of obsessive compulsive disorder that I have diagnosed myself with. Most of the time I'm half joking, but after reading this I realize that yeah, I probably should be serious. I mean, I'm not one of the ones that has to have medication to make it through the day. I can usually keep it under control myself by just ignoring the impulses and fears and just doing what I need to do. Some days are worse than others of course. Like you know the really nervous feeling you have when you're slowly creeping up to the top of a gigantic roller coaster? That tightness in your chest and the little cramp in the pit of your stomach. Sometimes I feel like that all. day. long. Sometimes it turns into full blown terror, and I can't stay in the house alone;I can't be still; I can't stand silence. I can't stop thinking that someone or something is just going to appear out of nowhere. Someone has been hiding in the back of the house and is going to come out and kill me. Someone is going to break in and kill me. The little stuffed clown on the dresser or the one in the painting is suddenly going to come to life. Sometimes I have to sleep with the lights on. Sometimes I'm afraid that my car will blow up the first time I crank it after filling the gas tank. I'm afraid to dry off with a towel that's been used by a guy for fear of being impregnated. I can't do something as simple as turn the page in a book unless it feels just right. I never knew that all these things were symptoms of obsessive compulsive disorder. Erasing and rewriting letters and number until they look just right, arranging and rearranging the surgical instruments (or anything else for that matter) until they are just right, parting and re parting my hair until every hair was exactly where I thought it should be, continuing to make some repetitive sound or motion until it landed on the right note toend with (I often make noises in my head to accompany repetitive motions like putting one down after another, for instance), counting random things (again, like footsteps). Yeah, I was pretty sure all those were OCD. But the other things I just thought were plain crazy or some kind of paranoia or something. Sure, I can see that all these things or completely and utterly irrational, but that can't stop me from thinking or doing any of them. For the most part, it's beyond my control. But finding out that some other girl has thoughts that are even more irrational than this - it was almost a religious experience.
Anyway, I'm sorry that I've gone on and on about my crazy, but like I said - religious experience. I promise that if you come back tomorrow, I'll try to write about something normal like what movies I want to see, and what celebrities I just can not stand, and how long it's been since I took a shower. Ya know. Normal things like that.
Other than sleeping my life away, I have been reading this awesome book that I bought last night. I've already made it almost half way through the book, and all of the essays have been wonderful. Some are very serious, very global, while others are events relevant to the author alone. But each one is just that - relevant. If to know one else, then to the author himself. You can tell that these stories come from their hearts, from the best that they have. Most of them are deeply personal. Some of these essays I can't really relate to all, having never been in a similar situation, but most of them I could relate to on some level. Some experiences are just universal.
For instance, how if feels to have your friends become more important than your lover. To develop such extreme loyalty to the ones who are always there and always know what to do and say, and then blame the poor guy who can't live up to them (even if this is only in your own mind).
And also, the essay about OCD? More than just relatable. I blame countless little tics on the mild case of obsessive compulsive disorder that I have diagnosed myself with. Most of the time I'm half joking, but after reading this I realize that yeah, I probably should be serious. I mean, I'm not one of the ones that has to have medication to make it through the day. I can usually keep it under control myself by just ignoring the impulses and fears and just doing what I need to do. Some days are worse than others of course. Like you know the really nervous feeling you have when you're slowly creeping up to the top of a gigantic roller coaster? That tightness in your chest and the little cramp in the pit of your stomach. Sometimes I feel like that all. day. long. Sometimes it turns into full blown terror, and I can't stay in the house alone;I can't be still; I can't stand silence. I can't stop thinking that someone or something is just going to appear out of nowhere. Someone has been hiding in the back of the house and is going to come out and kill me. Someone is going to break in and kill me. The little stuffed clown on the dresser or the one in the painting is suddenly going to come to life. Sometimes I have to sleep with the lights on. Sometimes I'm afraid that my car will blow up the first time I crank it after filling the gas tank. I'm afraid to dry off with a towel that's been used by a guy for fear of being impregnated. I can't do something as simple as turn the page in a book unless it feels just right. I never knew that all these things were symptoms of obsessive compulsive disorder. Erasing and rewriting letters and number until they look just right, arranging and rearranging the surgical instruments (or anything else for that matter) until they are just right, parting and re parting my hair until every hair was exactly where I thought it should be, continuing to make some repetitive sound or motion until it landed on the right note toend with (I often make noises in my head to accompany repetitive motions like putting one down after another, for instance), counting random things (again, like footsteps). Yeah, I was pretty sure all those were OCD. But the other things I just thought were plain crazy or some kind of paranoia or something. Sure, I can see that all these things or completely and utterly irrational, but that can't stop me from thinking or doing any of them. For the most part, it's beyond my control. But finding out that some other girl has thoughts that are even more irrational than this - it was almost a religious experience.
Anyway, I'm sorry that I've gone on and on about my crazy, but like I said - religious experience. I promise that if you come back tomorrow, I'll try to write about something normal like what movies I want to see, and what celebrities I just can not stand, and how long it's been since I took a shower. Ya know. Normal things like that.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Words, Words, Words
So, it's Friday night and I'm sitting outside my apartment in 40-something degree weather wearing a long-sleeved shirt, a sweater, a jacket, and pajama pants. Also, I have a big, fluffy blanket, a new book, my laptop, and a pen and notebook. Because I still like to write with, you know, a pen and some paper. Anyway, the point is that I'm out here in this cold night, all alone, and I'm actually happy about it. I'm actually getting used to not having people around me at all times, and I guess that's a good thing.
As for the first part of my lonely Friday night, it involved a peppermint mocha in a red cup and an hour at the book store compiling my Christmas list on my phone (because I didn't want to look like a total wacko and walk around with a pen and some paper). If I actually get all the books that ended up on that list it's going to be a great, great Christmas. Probably the best ever. So, I spent all that time in the bookstore and only ended up with one book (self control!), which is unheard of, but I still came away with that euphoric pleasure that comes with the purchase of new reading material. I swear it's like an addiction. But, then again, it always has been. I can honestly say that I've loved books for almost as long as I've been alive. When I was still just a babe I would beg my parents to read to me. I even had a few of those books memorized since I wasn't able to read them for myself. When I finally did reach that point, around four or so, it was the beginning of a long and beautiful relationship. Through all the uncoolness and teen aged trying to fit in I have never lost my love for words. In fact, I probably came to love them even more. In book form, they were always my way to escape. When my strong-willed nature wouldn't allow me to walk on the eggshells at home, I would go and hide somewhere with my books. Actually, I am the only person I have ever met whose punishment was being grounded from her books. Yes, that is how much of a geek I have always been. Or we could just say academically advanced prodigy with an exceptionally large vocabulary. I think that sounds better.
I don't know where else I was going with this. I just wanted to get a post up, since I just took away the year's worth of entries I had here. It was - to say the least - a rough year. I would like to just start over, so that is what I am doing here. And with a nice, happy night at that.
As for the first part of my lonely Friday night, it involved a peppermint mocha in a red cup and an hour at the book store compiling my Christmas list on my phone (because I didn't want to look like a total wacko and walk around with a pen and some paper). If I actually get all the books that ended up on that list it's going to be a great, great Christmas. Probably the best ever. So, I spent all that time in the bookstore and only ended up with one book (self control!), which is unheard of, but I still came away with that euphoric pleasure that comes with the purchase of new reading material. I swear it's like an addiction. But, then again, it always has been. I can honestly say that I've loved books for almost as long as I've been alive. When I was still just a babe I would beg my parents to read to me. I even had a few of those books memorized since I wasn't able to read them for myself. When I finally did reach that point, around four or so, it was the beginning of a long and beautiful relationship. Through all the uncoolness and teen aged trying to fit in I have never lost my love for words. In fact, I probably came to love them even more. In book form, they were always my way to escape. When my strong-willed nature wouldn't allow me to walk on the eggshells at home, I would go and hide somewhere with my books. Actually, I am the only person I have ever met whose punishment was being grounded from her books. Yes, that is how much of a geek I have always been. Or we could just say academically advanced prodigy with an exceptionally large vocabulary. I think that sounds better.
I don't know where else I was going with this. I just wanted to get a post up, since I just took away the year's worth of entries I had here. It was - to say the least - a rough year. I would like to just start over, so that is what I am doing here. And with a nice, happy night at that.
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