I'm borrowing a laptop from my most tech saavy of boyfriends.
I leave August 18th for California. I'm busy this upcoming week, but after that it's a bit of a stand still (famous last words.) So... make plans with me now? Or something? I dunno. We'll see what I can do on the non-existent budget. (Um, Cassia, when's Zeph coming around? I can't remember now. *pouts* He needs to meet Zeke. I need to hug Zeph. Silly as it sounds - I miss the guy.)
SoulFest is this week!! I'm stoked, because Zeke's doing all the recycling. This is a good sized event and he's doing ALL the recycling. It's a four day concert series - a bazillion teens and their soda bottles and aluminum cans! It's crazy! And guess who's pretty much gonna be manning the booth so that she doesn't have to go and empty recycling cans all day (when she's not rocking out.)? Me. I'm really stoked/happy about this. I said that already. I'll say it again. (I'm on a keyboard now, I can do that.) w00t! Yay!
I'd write more, but other than saying I'm getting lots of sugar and love and keeping my head above the waters of ever fast coming "adulthood", I don't have much to say right now. I've got things to do. Stuff to pack. You know it.
January 16th I start a sort of journalism class at the Nackey S. Loeb school in Manchester. I'm excited about it.
Birka comes soon and I'm pretty happy about that. But I'll be working the whole time, so, not so happy. I'm pretty much totally unsure about when I'll see some people again in the next upcoming year. So people coming from faraway... well, I kinda want to see them. People like Chris, Kelsey, Jacob... oh, I dunno. I sound like a loon. I love working Birka. Being a helpful person is one of the things in life that makes me happy.
Million things going on suddenly. Now I can't finish this damn post. Damn.
Presidential candidates make me laugh. Clinton needs to stop playing the cutesy card. Ron Paul was pretty cool though. I liked him. And I can see why McCain is leading in New Hampshire.
But Richardson? Mmm... Jolly sort of guy... but I dunno. And if Guiliani mentions Ronald Regan ONE MORE TIME. I might vomit. It's so WEIRD. So weird. Why keep mentioning him? Is it that important?
And Charlie Gibson is still totally awesome. (I love how he tries to go by Charles now, but they still call him Charlie.)
Oh, and Bill Richardson? Stop banging on your table. It's making the mic sound funny.
xD
Barack Obama... hm. I do like him. But yeah, still not really sure. I ought to listen to his speeches I think. More later? I hope so.
In June I didn't flush (-1 points). In October I bought porn for joyitude (-10 points). In November I gave kittywitch2 a life-saving blood transfusion (50 points). In April I set twaingirl's puppy on fire (-66 points). Last month iamresistance and I robbed a bank (-50 points).
Overall, I've been naughty (-77 points). For Christmas I deserve a lump of coal!
Just, you know, as an FYI, I have the greatest boyfriend ever. I can't stand girl-boy rants like this. But it's just time for one. Mine? Rocks. He played phone tag with my mother so that he could drive the half hour up to Manchester with her to pick me up from the airport (since I was coming back from TX yesterday.). He spent awkward time in silence with Mike in the living room, waiting for my mom to finish up her work. And then he actually talked to my mom on the car ride up to Manchester. It's really great to hear about these things happening. Because it takes balls to call up my Mom. It really does. I love him. It's a wonderful sort of thing, knowing that he'd do that. *squee!*
But yeah. Baltimore airport is a gateway to hell. I slept funny, had nightmares, wrote more for NaNoWriMo, cried way too much and just generally felt like shit by the time I found myself hugging Tristan in the Manchester airport. And then I felt better. And then I spent an hour and a half talking to mom and feeling like shit again. Things don't make sense coming from my mouth. And I can't work up the thought process to even start arguing with her.
*bashes head against wall*
Things to do today
-Memorize monologue so that I stop having nightmares about it -Have Chris watch Heroes (both episodes??) -Clean room while Chris watches Heroes -Put my notes for NaNo into the general word count so that I don't bomb out -Work on the writings for Christmas presents -Christmas cards?
I'm basically going to focus on cleaning my room so that Mom can stop bitching about it and so I feel better. I'm basically going to focus on Yule and Dad coming in December, and hopefully introducing him to the two people that are basically what make life here at home bearable. I'm basically going to try and focus on small things. And yeah.... Christmas. But first, NaNoWriMo
So my father got me my own website. Out of selfish want for publicity, I ask you all to at the very least check it out - a bit of my poetry is on there too.
NaNoWriMo is approaching.
Did you know that Hot Air Balloon rides are EXPENSIVE? They are.
See, my NaNo story has a lot of flight in it, in insane machines of every shape and size. I have a few floating cities (one of which is crumbling away) and a villain that makes me shiver - but he's raw and needs more work. I have characters that will not behave and story arcs to bend to my constantly yielding will. It's thanks to Zekiel that I'm not crazy yet, I swear. Without that boy encouraging and reading every bloody thing that I send him, I might have very well given up quite a while ago. Well, maybe not. But I wouldn't be nearly as happy, that's for sure. We all need that best friend - to read everything and just be there for the crazy moments. Not your partner - I need my partner to kiss me and tell me I'm wonderful and make me feel safe. I need my best friend to me in constant 'danger' and tell me I'm the most awesome thing since the internet and remind me that I'm a girl and that I'm a force of nature because of it.
*happy sigh*
I'm so busy in the week before November. But people are making it better. Not family - but other people.
I'm excited for NaNoWriMo - I'm writing notes and trying to shape my characters. It's hard for me, because I'm forcing out raw facts and a plot - not something I'm used to doing. I need to find that inspiration to make me just fly when I'm writing it. I haven't found it. Yet.
I will.
My website is :
www.kiaya.org
And you should check it out. I'm buttergirlfly on NaNoWriMo.
My keyboard is an interesting thing. Everyone complains that I pound on the keys of their own keyboards. I'm told that they have to pound on mine to get it to work. I cannot type properly on a chunky keyboard. My keys are just the right height. Not flat, but not raised high either. You can tell I'm right handed, by the side of the space bar that's worn shiny and smoother than the rest. Half of the 'N' key is worn away. So is half of the key that I would press for a period.
I like my keyboard. It's true, I might very well be a hard typist. But I type with my hands, not my nails. I type to hear it. I type to communicate like I would to speak. Fast. Hard. Stuttering. Slurring.
Sometimes I'll wake up in the night and my hands are posed to type. I've woken up before and found that my hands were just slowing down from moving - from typing. Typing something. Wouldn't it be cool to type from your dreams? Maybe. Maybe not. There are some dreams, like the one I had last night, that I would like to forget.
Last night I dreamed again. A portion of the dream was jealousy - and from there, as the dream progressed and the world changed, the feeling lingered. Who I was in the rest of the dream was different - but I remembered what had happened earlier - and I felt guilty for those feelings. Yet again, I dreamed of my best friend. I dreamed of him making head-way with another girl he likes - one I know and respect - of them looking at each other in a new way, of them beginning to discuss a relationship with each other. I saw green. That's not healthy. Mold isn't healthy. Slime probably isn't healthy. Just like that - Jealousy is not healthy. I try my best to avoid it. Dreaming of it like that disturbs me. I shouldn't have any problem at all with what went on in that dream. It wasn't dirty, wasn't bad. I just felt jealousy. The human mind - our emotions : they baffle me at times.
And I know I'm still young. I'm not really worried about these dreams. I'm not. They just make my mornings start off sour. I have to remind myself of a million other things ; like why dreams like these aren't REALLY bad. They're just a part of life.
Maybe someday I'll attempt to figure out what I'm typing in my dreams. Maybe there'll be a breakthrough in it. *shrugs*
My biggest concerns right now is getting my Be Real homework done and getting an idea for NaNoWriMo. I still have no idea what to write. I mean, I have ideas... but none I'm positive will get me all the way to 50,000 words. Something will come to me. I hope.
my chest feels heavy and it hurts to breathe. i worry, about what? that something terrible will happen, something to mess up-- everything. it hurts to breathe. its like my lungs are too small.
doctor (after a long Q+A, yes or no session, to which i had not hesitated on.) : "Any anxiety?" pause. "...do you mean more than usual?" he gives me a concerned look. "...its not something i want to medicate right now." he scribbles on his notes and nods. he tells me that if i need anything, to let him know.
i worry. it makes me twitch, keeps me awake and makes my stomach sick. but i could be worse. i keep telling myself that. but i have to hold on to something. i have to trust those i love. or i don't really love them. my worry is triggered by what i do. not by what they do. it's never them. it's always me. remember that. i hold the metal around my neck tight, trying to make it grow warm. trying to let it comfort me. it works, sometimes. i have to remember happy things. find a happy place. why do i tremble? why am i so afraid? why aren't i braver? find a happy place. i hate abhor sleeping late. its dirty and wrong and i cannot stand doing it. i cannot stand being alone. why do i think i am alone?
So, I come home. I check my voicemail (four. One blank, three from Tristan). The three from Tristan were lovely. And they were asking me to go see 'Across the Universe' with him. Mom tells me that Kelli and Jenna's family are coming over Sunday. Nine people in this wiiiiiddle house. Which means time to clean up. So I'm really busy. Too busy to transcribe for you what I wrote in my journal at camp. Because on Monday, I have to work on homework. And on Tuesday, I'll be in class, etc.etc. I probably will find time anyway, but until then, I'm going to give you a run-down of camp.
Saw 'Across the Universe' with Tristan today. Cannot TELL you how awesome/wonderful it was to A) see him B) be with him C) sing Beatles songs WITH him D).... yeah. You get it. :-D
I actually am not fond of Sundays. Well... Sundays in which I'm not doing anything. I don't really like being stuck at home, bored, with only chores to do, and no one online. It's like, on weekdays? When people are online? Then I have no problem going off and doing things. Because I know I can come back to activity - to comments, emails, things like that. Not on weekends.
I could say that I have no life on weekends. That's not true. I have SCA events and what not - things like that. I live, weekend to weekend - from an activity to an activity. Is that such a bad thing?
Okay. I have to be a good girl and outline things to do.
See Grandma while she's in town (till Thursday.) Finish Syllabus Plan Harpers
That's this upcoming week.... Then there's things like...
Mandatory Meetings (teachers and teenagers) See Tristan (Please please please?) Classes start Sept. 11th (Tuesdays and Thursdays) Camp (!) Then...
Man, once September's over, and my birthday (17 baby! Scary.) is over with (Early Oct.) - It's like.... I've nothing really planned that I don't NORMALLY do year to year.
Halloween is still up in the air - but Thanksgiving I'm going to Austin. Then comes Christmas. I'm actually looking forward, somewhat to Christmas. And to Yule.
“Guess who, she would said and then she shouted it, despero(?), weird, nothing is ___ in this sad word and the sound of someone you love calling out your name. Nothing, so despero(?), the sound was worth everything, his lock tail, his strip to the dungeon(?) and back out of this, back into it again, take that mellow the tail desopero(?). I think that's true, there's nothing more wonderful not one special person calling out your name. It's a prize, joy, shock, love. There's nothing more beautiful, more upset than, more relieving as hearing that and it's the sound I want to hear right now more than anything.”
So, I'm homeschooled. I didn't have much in the way of teachers. I had Mom, Dad, and people like Kimberly and other such, who'd teach me things along the way. Going to First AGAPE, that co-op, I actually met an official teacher - one who'd BEEN a highschool English teacher for many many years, only to find, when she reached retirement, that there were some homeschooled neighbors' kids wanting to be taught. And then those kids asked her to teach at the co-op. And it snowballed from there. She was the woman to teach me essays.
Have you ever heard your heart sing? Where nothing could ever go wrong - that your heart is pumping like a maniac right under your breastbone and you just want it to be quiet so that you can concentrate. The blood's pumping around your ears and you feel your stomach do, while not necessarily a back flip, some sort of stretch and twist that makes your muscles tense and you feel... tingly and you want to go insane. Your heart sings - and what does it sound like? How could you possibly feel like that - so light and yet so immovable? Where you just want to scream in utter joy and excitement because things have gone right. It doesn't happen often enough.
What's my heartsong sound like? I can never concentrate on it long enough to properly. I'm too busy watching what made my heart sing so - that makes my brain and body go insane. That one thing can make me that happy, so simply, defies my sense of logic. Is what I feel love? Ecstasy? Infatuation? What is it?
Why do I feel weak - but strong enough to run around and fly? What's my heart telling me? Why can't I stop smiling?
So the other day I went to the huge Anime Expo in Long Beach. My dad had some buddies working a booth and got us passes. So, yesterday was my first... adventure into the land of anime and cosplay. Now, I like anime. I really do. I'm not a huge fangirl though - not much television and I don't have too many friends into anime nearby. After my Pokemon/Clamp phase - I basically just read whatever my brother had on hand (Ruroni Kenshin and now Bleach and Sergent Frog.). I loved Ruroni Kenshin. I also grew up on Miyazaki and his works - luckily, I was not alone in all this. Totoro merch was abundant - I got a Totoro shirt and a squirrel fox plushie (*screams in delight for new plushie*) So, yeah. I hung out with cosplay people (there were some greats there... and some not so greats. But oh well.) - as well, I was able to meet two people that I never thought I would get to meet. Peter S. Beagle, the writer of 'The Last Unicorn', one of my favorite books; and the artist of this comic I read when I was younger 'Little Gloomy'. Talk about a blast from the past! I got both their signatures and was quite pleased with myself. This was actually my first con/expo sort of deal for something I was actually interested in - so I basically just had a lot of fun.
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excited
Dear Santa...
drained
contemplative
anxious
better
pleased
bored
sad