"Curiosity is the mother of invention."

At 2:00 AM I successfully scared my dad by jumping into the door frame he was about to walk through yelling "A-HA!" Just because I can't sleep doesn't mean I can't have fun with it.

I've completely immersed myself in projects this week. These are things I want to do and should do, but the motivation really emerged from my stubborn avoidance of other thoughts currently consuming my mind. Instead of properly dealing with anything, I mix it in with my creative juices. Here is a list of what I've been up to so far:

1. Making Lists ~ Including this one, I'll make lists about everything: things I hate, random facts about myself, goals, etc. I'm wondering if I should actually do something with them, like compile them together to file because right now they are scattered on post-its and notepads with no real purpose in mind for them.
   
2. In depth Reading ~ This is nothing new, but I managed to organize a schedule: what to read next and when I need to finish it aka reading at least 5 books at the same time and when one is done replace it with new one(s). I can't simply read a book either. With my halloween rocket pencil in hand, I edit, take notes in the margins, leave comments at the end of the pages, look up words I don't know, and research any well-known figure or historical reference. It really becomes quite the educational experience.
   
3. Creative Writing ~ Although the whole "here is what happened and this is how I feel about it" is all good and therapeutic, I thought I needed to challenge myself with a new form of writing. Still drawing from my life experiences, it's a more poetic style that brings a different, beautiful perspective. I can't take credit for the idea because it comes from a book I studied in a literature class. And I am definitely not as good as the originator.
   
4. Sketchbook ~ Brainstorm ideas for art projects (ink, charcoal, collage), search corresponding images, observe colors and shadows and textures, and draw sketches with every detail written in. Then all I have to do is actually create them...
   
5. Coffee ~ Okay so maybe this one doesn't fully constitute a project. Maybe it's just more of an addiction, but I keep myself well supplied.

And I know you all must be wondering by now, so here is my beloved halloween rocket pencil:

"How are you doing?"

I'm asking the question people ask a thousand times a day. But when you actually mean it, it has a global giantness to it that still yields the tiniest of answers.
"Fine."

I haven't slept much. The last few days have been rough and now with dangerous amounts of caffeine in my system, I have to get out of this damn bed. Coffee-drunk, I stood shaking in front of the bathroom window to watch the sunrise.

Two days ago I finally decided to stop being retarded and make a long-overdue phone call. I nervously scrolled down my contact list and pressed the green button. Instead of the sound of a distant ring, I heard a voice no one ever wants to hear. [...The number you have dialed has been changed, disconnected, or is no longer in service...]

Tears began to form again, my airways were quickly closing up, while vigorously telling myself I can't break down just yet. It can't end like this when it never had a chance to begin.

I tried again the next day and was excited to find it working again. We finally got a hold of each other, and I suddenly found myself immersed in the most intense, terrifying, life-altering conversation. Despite the emotional extremity involved, it helped me to realize my capability of being human, how much I truly care, and the importance of a much-needed friendship. It gave my life meaning and purpose to know I was there for someone in need and knowing I would fall apart if something happened.

Exhausted both emotionally and physically, I still made the effort to make a follow-up phone call today to fulfill my newly awakened compassion, be sure things were okay, and possibly evaluate what was said the night before.

He doesn't remember talking to me at all.

I think I saved a man's life last night... and all I'm left with is a broken heart.

"Sometimes skulls are thick. Sometimes hearts are vacant. Sometimes words don't work."

I always think that when I wake up New Year's day, everything should be different, feel different, as though everyone gets a second chance, everyone starts over, we all begin again.

As usual nothing changes. I still have the same thoughts, the same fears, hopes, anxieties. Still sipping my usual black coffee out of the same pheasant mug.

But something weird did happen this morning...

I got home around 3:00 AM, drowsy, cold, and completely wired. The party I came back from was fun; hanging out with good friends, laughing hysterically at ridiculous games, and trying to light fireworks in 10 degree weather.

I didn't think I would be able to get to sleep from all the sugary and uber caffeinated beverages I consumed over the last few hours. But I collapsed, only to wake up at sunrise with no chance of falling back to sleep again.
As usual...

I grabbed the book I was reading and anxious to finish (a book I could have finished in one day if given the chance). It's James Frey's follow-up to his first controversial memoir, and even better I might add. By the last 10 pages... I cried, sobbed actually, uncontrollably. I had to stop reading to let the tears flood out of my eyes so I could see the words on the pages in front of me.

I have always read books that make me sad, make me want to cry, always engaging myself with the character as much as one is able. But never did I let myself go, never have I felt that involved with a book, a character, a man's life.

My hands were shaking. My eyes, stinging. Mascara smudged on my pillow. I looked like a fucking train wreck.

Everything is still the same. But everything changed.

I'm a glutton for punishment

I've officially been bitten by the Christmas spirit. Between the parade of ice storms, tacky red and green paraphernalia, the nauseating T.V. specials, and a kitchen full of chocolate covered sugar-rushes, it finally feels like Christmas.

I went to a Christmas/Escape-Our-Present-Lives party in Maryland this weekend with some of my college friends. We are all basically in similar situations so it was good for all of us to get away, hang out, drink, and be merry. And now I'm awaiting the inevitable emergence of flattering pictures they can blackmail me with later.

But at least Baby Jesus is happy...


I'm getting nothing but a bushel of coal for Christmas this year. If Santa existed I would be on the Naughty list for sure.

I have no regrets, perhaps I was tired of trying to please everyone else and wanted to escape from their claustrophobic barriers. After living by myself for so long, I discovered my ability to make my life my own, even if it meant going against what I have been told to believe was wrong.

But you know, maybe it isn't.

Books and B*tches

I forgot I wanted to upload this picture from my birthday last week. Hilarious.


A dignified reappearance of last year's party hat a beloved co-worker gave me. This picture is probably the highlight of the "celebration" though. It was the first birthday that I actually didn't have any presents to open. I don't really care either... just further indication that I'm getting old.

Anyway, I did build some new bookcases for my personal growing library.


This picture, however, doesn't give off the mesmerizing effect one gets when entering my room now. And these aren't all of my books either. Many are in various locations being borrowed, and I myself am reading about 3 at the same time, besides the fact that I just noticed the picture cut off the ends. And there are about 10 more on a list that I know I want.

Books - my weakness, my passion, my ecstasy. I stand in front of these full shelves and gaze longingly at each title, wanting to read them all at once, study them, live them. Newton would be proud.

"Sing me to sleep; I don't want to wake up on my own anymore."

The rings under my eyes are getting darker and puffier, and the time spent lying in crooked positions underneath uneven blankets is getting longer and longer. This whole "not sleeping" thing makes it hard for me to wake up.

It doesn't help when this overcast weather chock full of rain predictions makes high noon look just as bleak as the middle of the night. Or rather the corresponding projection to the inside of my head; a myriad of thoughts awaken as I wearily toss and turn. No matter the extent of my exhaustion, I am roused by a strange burden for people.

Confused, concerned, and simply wondering, I relive past conversations, and envision future connections. I'm always terrified of losing touch, especially from irrelevant (or nothing) circumstances. But I can never maintain focus and thus am never able to bring closure, so every night I am revisited by the inevitable.

I had the most intense gig I ever had to do last night. I was asked to play with two others a 3-part flute selection at a memorial service. All went well, but we were at the end of the program, which means everyone's emotions have been building up for the last 3 hours with the saddest things anyone can stand to deal with.

It was a little disturbing when the mother of the recently passed 29-year-old told me beforehand that her daughter will be on the stage with us, making music together. I'm not very consoling, despite my strange desire to help people. But I did get to see my former flute teacher (smokes like a chimney but can certainly make an instrument sing) who told me he is glad to still see me with flute in hand. Now I have a rekindled inspiration to keep playing, and be as good as I used to be, or better. I want to get my hands on new, more challenging music and give myself something to work for. But we'll see how long my stimulation lasts.

"One of the symptoms of an approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one's work is terribly important."

I currently have no future. I have no job, which means I have no money, which means I am stuck at my parent's house, which means I have no life. And in about 4 days I will officially be an old woman... with no health insurance.

So it's no wonder I nearly had a nervous breakdown last night. What frustrated me the most was the fact my parents offered to pick up my loan bills until I got myself situated (this was one of the selling points they gave me to leave my job in Georgia). But when my first two bills came I had to pay them anyway.

And everyone's been diving down my throat about it all, stressing me out about things I am already aware of. If anyone mentions this real life bullshit to me one more time, I will officially be pissed off. It's not like I haven't tried... I hate to think that I put myself in this much debt going to an expensive school and literally working myself towards hospitalization for nothing.

I remember thinking once I graduated the stress would be gone too. *rolls eyes* What really has me frustrated is the very people telling me "I need to find a job" (well, yeah no shit) all have jobs, and are married, and living far away from here, and basically have lives, and plans, and a future. So excuse me if things don't work out so perfectly for me right away.