So, I turned 33 a few days ago (28th) and it was a good day. Life been moving pretty fast, but mostly in good ways. I'm kind of forcing myself to write this, so it may be drivel, but it's still writing, words on a page...an electronic page that exists in the nether realm that seems to have its own reality, but still, words all the same. I'm currently fighting, and managing to just about hold steady, against a mood that wants to eat right through me. All social interactions save those made through the distance of a key board are out for the evening. Had to cancel plans last night too. Might not make it out of the house tomorrow like I'd planned, but I won't write my future before I'm staring it in the face. And tonight, my demon is sitting right square in my chest, wearing me like a Jennifer skin. Or maybe I'm the mother of a universe, and it's all just right there inside of me, ever expanding, pushing at the bounds of my mind.
I wouldn't say the mood was evil, or really even dark...just heightening...waiting for any little input to rile me to anger or reduce me to blubbering puddle of emotional goo. Either way feels like weakness, so I keep doing, I keep writing. Neutral is the best place to be, the most fortified fortress. I might not be able to paint at the moment, or work on my novel, the creative ways seem to get clogged with too much emotion. I'd dance, but the furniture gets in the way. So I am writing normal, little old words just spewing out of my brainpan. I refuse to run or hide from who I am. There are just times when it seems alone is the proper way, I can be fully me and when not distracted stand against the mood the strongest. If I have to worry about interacting or am distracted...my behavior may not go so well.
A friend once described it as if your inner voice becomes an unreliable narrator. You cannot believe what it is telling you, even though it is coming from your own mind, and speaking with your own voice. Another...I'm not close enough to call her a friend...but person I look up to... likes to put it bluntly - depression fucking lies. So, I tend to fall back on presets - it's like keeping a little book of paragraphs you write for yourself as if you, yourself were a yearbook. Or, maybe you write yourself letter of recommendation that you can show to your unreliable narrator and tell him to just go fuck off. hmm...apparently my unreliable narrator is male, or maybe he just is today. I imagine it is kind of like a god thing, gender neutral.
So, it's pretty much impossible to make grandiose headway into new and creative things, so, holding ground and going to bed calmly and peacefully is the best place to find oneself. Cause what I feel right now, even though I know it isn't true, doesn't stop the emotion from crawling around inside. Doesn't keep desires from getting out of whack. Thankfully, I know myself well enough to sense this departure from the norm and sound the alarm. Reason comes to my defense and it kind of kicks ass when I need it to. And tonight? It's drop-kicking my unreliable narrator through a plate glass window and then tossing a flaming piano (grand, not upright) down on it for good measure. (It really isn't enough if the piano isn't on fire.) It won't kill it though; I know he'll be back. And I know, I'll be ready.
...mostly.
Here's a video that makes me smile, with my favorite song, Ode to Joy. Truly one of the best pieces of music ever written.
I wouldn't say the mood was evil, or really even dark...just heightening...waiting for any little input to rile me to anger or reduce me to blubbering puddle of emotional goo. Either way feels like weakness, so I keep doing, I keep writing. Neutral is the best place to be, the most fortified fortress. I might not be able to paint at the moment, or work on my novel, the creative ways seem to get clogged with too much emotion. I'd dance, but the furniture gets in the way. So I am writing normal, little old words just spewing out of my brainpan. I refuse to run or hide from who I am. There are just times when it seems alone is the proper way, I can be fully me and when not distracted stand against the mood the strongest. If I have to worry about interacting or am distracted...my behavior may not go so well.
A friend once described it as if your inner voice becomes an unreliable narrator. You cannot believe what it is telling you, even though it is coming from your own mind, and speaking with your own voice. Another...I'm not close enough to call her a friend...but person I look up to... likes to put it bluntly - depression fucking lies. So, I tend to fall back on presets - it's like keeping a little book of paragraphs you write for yourself as if you, yourself were a yearbook. Or, maybe you write yourself letter of recommendation that you can show to your unreliable narrator and tell him to just go fuck off. hmm...apparently my unreliable narrator is male, or maybe he just is today. I imagine it is kind of like a god thing, gender neutral.
So, it's pretty much impossible to make grandiose headway into new and creative things, so, holding ground and going to bed calmly and peacefully is the best place to find oneself. Cause what I feel right now, even though I know it isn't true, doesn't stop the emotion from crawling around inside. Doesn't keep desires from getting out of whack. Thankfully, I know myself well enough to sense this departure from the norm and sound the alarm. Reason comes to my defense and it kind of kicks ass when I need it to. And tonight? It's drop-kicking my unreliable narrator through a plate glass window and then tossing a flaming piano (grand, not upright) down on it for good measure. (It really isn't enough if the piano isn't on fire.) It won't kill it though; I know he'll be back. And I know, I'll be ready.
...mostly.
Here's a video that makes me smile, with my favorite song, Ode to Joy. Truly one of the best pieces of music ever written.
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