In which our heroine **sigh** talks about her feelings

No good stories going on right now. I'm busy with school most of the time, but this is what I have had on my mind:

I'm not a huge LoTR fan, but there's a fantastic line in one of the books. Bilbo is describing why he has to give up the ring. He says that feels like too little butter spread over too much bread. Okay, now that I've said that, I've become obsessed with getting it right, so here's the actual quote: "I feel thin, like butter spread over too much bread."

Anyhow, that's a pretty fair description of how I feel: I feel sharp and brittle; I feel cracked like the desert floor; I feel raw, like a scab you keep re-opening; I feel like I'm swaddled in cotton; I feel like butter spread over too much bread.

I've fought with depression for most of my life. I have chosen to remain unmedicated, and I often review this decision. I ask myself if normal people feel like this. I ask myself whether medication would improve my standard of living. The biggest question for me is about what makes up... well, me. I am my brain, and whatever chemicals I'm stewing in at the moment. I worry about taking anything that will alter my thought process -- I mean, where do I end, and where does the medicine begin? So, I remain unmedicated, and work through my problems the best I can. One day at a time. One hour at a time. One minute at a time. One second at a time.

Part of the problem is that I know I have a hard time managing my time. I'm ever the optimist when it comes to the amount of time something will actually take, and when I pad my time estimates, it usually turns out to be pretty spot on. Unfortunately, that fact doesn't actually stop me from being optimistic. I always think that the next time, I'll get things done faster. The issue? I am right occasionally, and it only enforces my time mismanagement.

The other problem is that I have no idea of how many responsibilities I can handle. One day, I'll be berating myself that I'm so freakin' lazy, and I can definitely get so much more done than I do. The next day, I'll realize that the next time I have a chance to read a book for leisure is in about two months, while I'll be in a plane going to Europe. A very important concept in my life is one of balance, and I can't quite seem to get it quite right.

I'll get there, though. I'll keep trying, I'll keep failing, and eventually I'll get there.

Thoughts in English Class

I was in my english class, bored out of my skull, and this is what I wrote instead of taking notes:

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I live halfway between my real life and my dream life. When I take my shower in the morning, I spend the time grasping at my memories -- seeing which ones fall away and which ones I can keep my hands around. Unfortunately, this means that I can never be sure what is a dream and what is reality until about 10am.

My dreams are in technicolor with dolby surround sound and comfy seats. Real life is a 13-inch black and white TV with bunny ears and crappy reception. My dreams have three acts with sub-plots, villians, heroes, and a wacky neighbor. Life is reruns of a cheesy soap opera you saw 10 years ago. You can't quite remember exactly what happens next, but you're never quite surprised by its convolutions and plot twists.

Would I trade my real life for the small world inside my head? Maybe. Lord knows I tried, but it didn't work out well for me. What's worth more: entertainment or the truth? Are the two mutually exclusive? And how true are my dreams, for that matter? They have more internal logic than the real world, so I suppose that's a good argument against my dreams. Life, on the whole, is not internally consistent.

I love my dreams. They make me laugh, they make me cry, but in the end, I can't share them in all of their colorful glory. Pinning them down takes away their luster. It's like listening to that song you adored in the summer between your junior and senior years, but haven't heard since then, and when you hear it, something is missing. The song no longer sounds like sunshine and freedom, it sounds like over-engineered pop from the early 90s, cotton candy light and cringeworthy. You remember it had these mind-blowing lyrics that, like, totally changed your life, man, and now it makes you laugh at its treacly-sweet platitudes.

So how do I share the stories my brain entertains itself with during my nightly collapse into unconsciousness? How do I take these gossimer strands and weave them into something I can hold up and see how the light shines through it? Movies? My dreams *are* cinematic. Music? They *are* lyrical. Writing? I *am* lazy, and that *is* the easiest way to share things these days.

Unfortunately, it seems like quantum mechanics: the moment you observe them, you change their quality. Dreams are their own medium, and no other will do.

Leaving to go to dinner...

Jake's sister, TooTall, and her husband, Vroooooom, were getting ready to take Jake out to dinner for her birthday. (Yes, send a card. ) Jake remarked on how freakin' freezing it's been the past few mornings, and how she uses Asimovian as a timer for the heater. ("It's cooooold... go turn on the heeeeeater... then the shooooower... then come back to bed so I can put my cold feeeeeeet on you!")

And now, back to our program already in progress:


TooTall: Well, you could get a thermostat with a timer on it.

Jake: Well, we rent, and it seems awfully complicated.

TooTall: No, it's actually really, really, REALLY easy. I mean, Vrooooom put ours in...

Vroooooom: I'm starting to feel a little insulted here.

TooTall: But, you put it in and it works great.

Vroooooom: You're not making it any better.

TooTall: But what I'm trying to say is...

Vroooooom: Nope, still feeling insulted....

TooTall: [to Jake] He could HELP YOU. He could help you install it is what I'm TRYING to say!

Vroooooom: Uh, no.

Jake: Uh, hey... how's about some dinner?


No marriages were harmed in the making of this scene.

Random thoughts for August

First off, can I just say how happy I am that the summer is at a close? Man, I do NOT like the heat. The only thing I do like is that the sun is up for a lot of hours. But I don't like having to water the hell out of my lawn to keep it from dying, using the air conditioner, and sweating. Bleh. Bring on the rain and gloom, say I!

School is starting for me today. I went over my general ed courses that I needed to take yesterday, and found out that a course I took for GE is no longer acceptable as a fine arts credit. I took the class because it would be fun and fulfill some of my GE requirements and I worked my ass off at it. It was photography, so I was in the classroom at least 5 hours a week, in addition to going out and shooting off a roll of film almost every week as well. And now, to have those 4 credits taken away from me just pisses me off. I think I'll be taking 3 classes instead of just 2 this semester to try to catch up a little bit. I'm torn between taking another academic class and taking a PE class. I need both of them and they're both in the same (very convenient) time slot.

With school starting, it makes me realize that we've begun the sliding slope towards the end of the year. I'll be 30 at the end of this year. It's not a huge deal to me; most everyone I hang out with is already on that side of 30, so I feel like I've already been there. It blows my mind that my mom and dad had 4 kids already by the time they were my age, but everyone's path is different. It also makes me realize that in about 6 weeks, they're going to put up the Thanksgiving decorations, and in about 2 months, they'll be putting up the Christmas decorations. It seems like I've blinked and missed a large chunk of the year. Part of growing older, I'm sure.

Lastly, did you know that if you can't find normal scotch tape, packing tape works surprisingly well for wrapping presents? Happy birthday, Space Kitty. Muahahaha!