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I only learned about this on Day 4, so this is cheating I suppose.
But if I leave it until December I will most likely forget all about it.
Is cheating ok if it serves a good end?
Is cheating ok if it serves a productive end?
Is cheating ok if I do it to write something nice?
When I see these line break signs, they make me think of Briony, and Briony makes me think of all those things bad about too much imagination.
Go away Briony! Leave me alone right now!
The second day of November was a Monday, and no longer an off-from-school-day. Those days are long over, but I still think, each and every year, that I might have November 2 off.
Instead, work it is.
I asked my sister yesterday (which was Day 3), what kind of work I should choose after my current (and quite stupid) job ends in about two months time.
She said: Something you enjoy! Something which you can wholeheartedly support! Something that makes you happy!
If only it were that easy, dear little sister of mine.
I thought...somehow imagined...that I didn't spend a lot of money last month.
Today I found out I was quite wrong, I spent just as much as I usually do.
To my left there is a small box of chocolates, with only one piece left. It was a gift from my boyfriend's parents. I'd translated an English email for them into German. One day later they found out it had been unnecessary.
My wasted time has been magically transformed into chocolate. Can't this system be introduced to the world in general? T'would be World Peace!
I have arrived in the present. Writing is, in that way, magical, just like reading. You can go backwards, forwards, or sideways. Maybe you can even go up and down. It is multi-directional, multi-dimensional. It is a miracle thing!
Today it was snowing in big, fat flakes. Then it was snowing in tiny, icy, annoying flakes. Then it was raining, and all turned to slush. Is this how the world works? Is this what life has to offer? Will I, at the end of my days, see everything turn to slush?
Let's not think about that.
A true friend is quite possibly the harshest, but still the most preferable critic of all, because he will always act in our best interest.
Sometimes we don't like what we are told, and the one reason we don't like it is that we knew it all along, deep inside, but hid it down there ourselves, afraid of facing the problem.
And what we really don't want to know (or accept) is that we may get rid of our friends, but never of our own knowledge of these things.
The things buried deepest haunt us the hardest.
I want clothes as beautifully blue as the ocean, and clothes as silvery sparkly as the sand. I want sunset-coloured hair, and a wind to lift my feet. I want to dance on the beach as the sunlight does, dance on the waves as the sunlight does. I want to be free like that feeling.
I wear lots of blue and brown. I knit a scarf of sandy silver. I dye my hair a dozen shades. I dance and dance and dance and dance.
I don't feel as light as the wind. I'm not free, not yet.
It's a lie, of course. My hair isn't died in many colours. I'm not even *that* free.
There once lived a man and he had two daughters. One always did as he said, was a obedient and quiet. The other, however, was wild and rebellious. She wouldn't obey him in any way, or act responsibly.
In the end, it was because he loved her too much. Not all love is kind, not all love helps us grow. Some kinds of love just turn us into sad, hungry monsters.
Maybe I'm familiar with too many silly videogames.
Can you hear them, the drums calling you? Can you hear them, feel them in your blood? Can you see how they draw you out of yourself, how you lose yourself in them instead of in yourself? The drums, the drums, the beating of those drums.
Then sometimes you lose them, you do not hear them, you feel alone. You are cut off from that beating that runs through all things. You feel alone. You are alone.
The only real way to get it back is to create that sound again, within yourself. The beating of your soul.
Unlikely Villains #1: The Mischieveous Yarn Lady
She seems harmless enough, and even talks to you about your faaaaavourite subject. She is helpful, although she also tries to sell you loads of stuff you don't need. She's in her middle ages or older, and seems quite the sweet little lady.
However, if she thinks you're not worthy, or didn't buy enough, or didn't listen to her advice, or didn't listen to her at all (didn't make small talk), she will 'forget' to pack all of your paid-for yarn into your bag, so you miss *that* one ball.
"Seltsame Fremde" translates into "strange strangers". Isn't that just beautiful? The world of translation in general is a world of daily wonders. One thing turns into another, which is, however, hopefully the same, unless you messed up or got creative. The aura of meanings surrounding it is also the same, or more often than not not quite. It's like alchemy with words.
Then again, all writing is, in a way. You take something you have in your head or your heart, then turn it into something else - gold, for the most successful, simple words for the rest of us.
I recently had a talk with my boyfriend about our dark sides: his dark twin (his astrological sign is gemini-gemini) and my 'dark' scorpio (mine is cancer-scorpio).
I then had this idea about a world where every person has such a 'dark' or different side, kind of like a split personality. Today I thought 'Or maybe this is like magic, or a special kind of power, which only a few can use.'
I wonder if this is a viable idea, and, if so, how this split-personality power might actually work. Scare people to death, maybe?
I just found out that scorpions are actually arachnids and not crustaceans. I guess I should have guessed. But it was so much fun to call myself a double-crustacean (see previous entry).
So, related to spiders, then. I guess this fits even better. Cancer, hiding in his shell. Scorpio, hunting for his prey. Hmmmm.
Cancer and scorpio are near-perfect opposites. Cancer is a homebody, all pastels and cosiness, while scorpio is a drama-queen, all black leather and attention-seeking.
Will I ever be able to reconcile them? Or should they simply fight it out?
Today I am tired and scared. I'm not really scared because of the presentation I have to give tomorrow (only a little bit, compared to how it normally is). I'm scared about Monday and work and that stupid inventory/stocktake I'm tasked with. Have been tasked with for more than a year now. And it just isn't happening.
Except, now it has to happen, and fast, and it is all very complicated and stupid. This is definitely no work I'm suited to. I hate it. It hates me. Too bad.
Please, please, just let me finish this quickly!
Today I am officially braindead.
I had an eight-hour seminar, where we did a lot of talking and analysing, and then I met a friend of mine and we sat and talked for another four hours straight.
I am truly exhausted.
The plan had been to catch up on the whereyoushouldbenow-wordcount with my Nano story today, but I haven't written a single word yet, and I doubt I will write many words in the next few minutes.
I'd really rather just go to sleep.
So much for having this evening all to myself.
This weekend was kind of harsh. There was a lot of concentrating and analyzing, but most of all self-realisation.
I wore my illusion-destroying labradorite necklace, but I didn't really expect this kind of effect. It all ended with me manically chatting with friends until almost 3am, and zombie-walking through work today.
It has been a long time since I was as tired as I was on Saturday. It has been a long time since I talked like I did last night.
I'm on the verge of something, either it will go well or not.
I do not write very clever things here, but I write every day. I wanted to start diary-writing again, and this is currently taking the diary's place.
I was scared of this week, I thought it would be awful. Now I think it won't be, I'll have to work a little more and a with a little more concentration for the next two days, but then I should be fine.
I'm always so scared, so scared of so many things. I could write my whole Nano story about nothing but fear. But who would read such stuff?
Our concepts of order are essentially futile. Whenever we try to bring order to the things surrounding us, something will try to foil us. Outer circumstances, human error, acts of God. I have a suspicion that order is not the work of God at all, but from a very different source. After all, if all things were ordered, there would be death. Not even life-in-death, but total death. Endless cold. Nothing would move anymore, change anymore. It would be the end of ends.
Does this sound like a good excuse as to why my inventarizing is imperfect?
Very tired. Very very tired. And how long it took me to correctly put down those first two words. I really should go back to sleep. I just got up, having slept through the evening instead of writing on my Nano novel. And I won't be writing now, I feel sick and I need to get back to sleep.
Soon, my daily rate will need to be 3000 words, and then what? It has never been this bad, that hard. Is it because I'm writing something not totally insane? Or is that just how real life with work works?
Hmmmm...I'm writing this Saturday evening. How come I have missed Thursday?
I had a good day on Thursday. I went to work and finished the stupid mini-stocktake. I went to my study group for the first time. I did not die of CAT. Then I went to university. I loved both my lectures. Then I went home, managed to still do some shopping, and made a lovely, tasty and even somewhat healthy dinner. And then I wrote about 3000 words for my Nano novel. Wohooo! Thursday was nice, yes.
Days which accomplish something usually are amazing.
Friday. Friday was weird. It started off great - I got up early, had a lazy breakfast while reading a book, went to uni, was there early (early!), had a nice early afternoon at home. However, I got somewhat tired, and doing nothing but reading got me a little down. Then the scheduled BC meeting went quite fast, since I only stayed for about an hour, but the carrot and ginger cake made me giggle. Then things went up again, salsa was FUN. And later that evening...we drained a bottle of white, and talked and laughed, and loved. Soooo good.
When secrets are lifted, sometimes they are lifted from your shoulders.
We ate a lot (or load?) of Chinese food today. Then we watched "Up", and I cried a lot (or load?). Then we bought a lot/load of food, and then I had another of my silly late afternoon naps (or load? :P).
I guess I'm catching up on my boyfriend's tiredness. If he feels like this all the time, geez. I wonder if I could do it. I suppose the body adapts naturally, since even I woke before 9am today, but still, it ain't much fun.
For some reason I keep missing days. I'm probably not concentrating properly on my writing. *sighs*
The weekend was very nice. After some (LOTS! ;)) breakfast, we cleaned the flat, did our ironing, watched Dumbo, a great anime with lots of cats, and random bits of other movies, ate more good food (which later made us feel sick, but hey), cuddled, laughed, had a good time.
But I didn't write. At least not much. A few hundred words. Basically nothing. I guess. I'm 10k behind and I'm still not writing like a maniac. How is this going to end?
I actually had friends over at my flat today. Wow! This hasn't really happened before. Two parties, which I won't count. Once, one friend of mine coming over for a very short study session. And that's it. In 9 months or so, that has been my 'friends-who-visit' count. My family hasn't been here at all. Except when bringing my furniture, noone of my family has entered this flat. In 9 months! :P
Is it any wonder that I'm starting to feel a little estranged and weird about it all? Is it any wonder I feel left alone?
I was forced today to put some author-talks-to-herself-stuff into my Nano story, just to get me writing again. I don't know whether it will count...well, it will have to. But it will not count towards the bet I made with my boyfriend. Weeeeeell... At least it got me writing again, instead of staring at a blank section of virtual page, wondering how to get back into the feeling of that particular scene. It isn't even such a difficult scene...but well. I'm on my way now, and I reached my personal goal for today. Yay!
Time passes too quickly here. Days slip past and I apparently don't seem to notice. It is all becoming a blur, a streak of knitting and writing activities, of meeting people and staying up too long. I write this on Friday. I sit and do not know how to continue my Nano novel.
On Wednesday I stayed up until 3am and pushed myself to write 4000 words. On Thursday I spent the afternoon writing another 4000 words. Today, I have not even yet written 400. I don't know how to go on. Maybe I'll just skip to the end.
I made this bet with my boyfriend...that when I finished writing a novel, he would finally start putting his own brilliant ideas down on paper. Once Nano had started, and I was writing my novel, my boringly logical, no-weird-things-happening-at-all novel, we finalised the rules for this bet: My story will need to be complete; a beginning, a middle, an end. It will need to be logical. It will not need to be officially published. It will need to be made of at least 75000 words.
75000!!! How did I ever agree to that?
I went out last night with some friends, and the evening went completely different than what I had expected. Than what had been planned, actually. My head still hurts a little, and I'm REALLY tired. However, I was once again being given a part of myself. At least it feels that way. People around me are, for some unknown reason, reconstructing me. All those bits and pieces that have been split off, in my youth, school, my terrible first relationship, are slowly being returned and given back their proper spot. Slow work, but I am so very thankful to them!
Saturday was fun, we were lazy, talked some, then went shopping, then ate some great food (very lovely food). Then I did some writing, and was very nicely rewarded for it.
But I'm also tired, so very tired. It has never felt this exhausting, somehow. I wonder why that is. I wonder what is missing now, what is different. Am I simply getting older? Is life weighing me down with too many added responsibilities? Well, it sucks. I know it's all part of being grown up etc, but if it starts messing with what should be my priorities, grrrrr!
Sunday...was exhausting as well. I had this workshop from 9.30am until 5pm. It should have been half an hour less, but well. It was fun, but I hadn't slept much, and I was sooooo tired at the end of it. And then we went to see my family for the first of advent. My sister brought her new boyfriend. It was fun, but maybe a little awkward, somehow. We played two games of Carcassonne, and my boyfriend fell into a deep dark hole of doom. Not fun. I wrote a lot afterwards, but I'm glad it's over soon.
So, my last entry for November. What a fun exercise. At first, it helped to get me writing, a little warming up before the big stuff started. Then I continually forgot, and had to add entries later. Maybe it will be different in December, at least I hope so. I definitely want to continue. Any writing is better than no writing at all. I know that one by now. ;)
My Nano novel is missing about 3.500 words. I've got about four hours left. This is going to be insane. Wish me luck. I guess I will need some.
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