rainspirit: (Default)
It's time. This blog's served its purpose. No one reads it, anyway.

I'll be friend-locking this and my old livejournal a couple weeks from now. People who aren't already on the reading list can ask me to be added - I'll even get you an account if you need it.

Wonder what's next for me? Maybe I'll get a tumblr. Heh.

See you guys around.

Sleep Now.

May. 6th, 2013 02:09 am
rainspirit: (Default)
I'm taking steps to organize my life.

Also, I just came back from rollerblading on a pitch black, deserted road. I like this city at night - I get the roads all to myself.

Shame they're pretty worn roads. I think the ones in my old neighborhood were much nicer.

I'm beginning to organize my life. It's a strange feeling, recording checklists and calenders, setting reminders to play well in advance. It's a little bit like leaving notes out for a perpetual amnesiac... which I suppose could be the case for me.

I'm so stubborn and resistant to change, though. Have to keep fighting myself. This is a battle worth fighting. This is something I want, and I immediately feel better after getting reminders on things.

Maybe I'll start leaving my computer outside my bedroom and keeping my phone close by. That could be the first thing I look at. My to-do list, my agenda for the day... all that.

Pretty zonked out. Quench hunger then going to sleep.
rainspirit: (damiel)
iPhone works again! Yaaay!

Now I sleep.
rainspirit: (damiel)
Well. Meant to do an update at some point. I'm feeling better than I was.

Still having issues with phone. At one point it worked! I called Mom on it, it was great! Then I installed the update and it's locked up again. Damnit.

Gotta talk to my roommate and see if I somehow broke it.
rainspirit: (damiel)
Someone very close to me would probably like to tell me how good it is that I managed to survive this day in one piece. Fuck that.

Fuck this conference and fuck the haircut I need and fuck all the things that came before today.

I haven't done enough, it's not gonna be enough, I need to do more, I don't regularly do the things I want to se done.

Fuck that. It's not enough. I'm not doing enough, and I doubt I ever will, even if I do somehow magically get my life together and stop heaving and hawwing through the next emotional meltdown.

Frustration. Today, I just wanted to lie in bed and watch people smiling and having a good time and being idolized and cried over. I wanted to imagine myself in a place where I was famous and good-looking and fit and happy, imagining I was in a place where my words meant something and I was in a position of power where society took care of my needs and I didn't have to worry about spending money on a bar of chocolate or using that to pay for groceries next week.

I'm taking a book with me because I can't just relax and listen to music. I need to dampen the noise and take some kind of stimulation, something that gets me away.

Have to stick up for myself in this bureaucratic nightmare even if I could give a shit, because somehow this is important in ways I can't imagine, and I need to not somehow die spectacularly in a ball of fire.

Too fucked up to listen, too rattled to hear the noise outside of the contents in my head bones.

I go to bed worried and rattled and wanting so bad to just sleep for as long as possible.

Looking forward to the day when I'm manic and on top of the world again. Wait, that was half an hour ago, minutes after my double shot americano.

Gotta be responsible gotta make the right choices gotta take care of myself.

So close to the edge it's not even funny. Was it ever?
rainspirit: (damiel)
I want to pause this day and come back to it later.
rainspirit: (Default)
Not sure if I'm ready to come clean yet.

At Mom's, with dog. Nice hot day outside. Alone for the moment, though the dog occasionally recovers from being furry in the sun long enough to plop a ball at my feet.

Not sure what there is to write about. The iPhone my sister sent me is being jailbroken by my good roommate for a little over half the price I was going to pay. And unlocked, hopefully. Which means I'll be able to use it soon, for a variety of things!

Feel compelled to read the iPhone warranty, though I'm sure it's all things I already know. Feels like good practice to get into. Sometimes you skip past the warranty, saying to yourself over and over, "I don't want to read this shit, all I want to do is play games and enjoy on my own terms." It's not like playing a game is a foreign act, and the internet coda is already ingrained in a person like me. Respect other people, don't be a dick, don't take anything that isn't yours. So far as I'm sure.

No major fights yet, but the three day mark has passed. Time for work, though hopefully I won't make too much of an ass out of myself. Seem to be expressing a kind of a--

Music track changed, lost my train of thought. Stand by.

Seem to be expressing a kind of autistic language through my characters as of late. My world of RP's become indecisive. Can't decide where I stand with MMOs and the Secret World, how much I want to commit. At least I'm not addicted, but it demands weird time schedules to really commit. So I don't want to do that too much.

Want to get back into panfandom on Dreamwidth, but there's a whole lot of baggage there, just as there's a whole bunch of memories. That and I seem oddly reticent to write applications. When did I start resisting this so much? I used to commit to characters like nothing, write up an app in a day and send it out even if the game was fated to die a day later. Seems like I'm resisting a whole bunch of work. Need to find a way of working through that stuff. I mean, considering that this is stuff I want to DO, I don't see what the problem is, really.

It's just another thing I wish I could track down, catalogue like all my human imperfections. Some things remain a mystery.

Need to email counsellors and profs. Need to email J. Need to finish my script and send it to him. Need to tie off the metaphorical stump. Hopefully it'll grow back like a lizard's tail.

Lost my train of thought again.

Need a new headphone cord. Too many things to spend money on this year. Still need to save money for PAX. Egh.
rainspirit: (Default)
Through inaction, I made a decision that I feel okay about.

I just need to make sure it doesn't hurt me.

I'm talking to a counselor at school. Hopefully that'll turn out for the good.

Need to recognize my limits. I'm starting to see a pattern stretching back to 2008, and I'm eager to break it. Does mean that I need to start writing down goals, taking control of my life. Listening to the voices that encourage me to succeed.

For half a decade now, I've stumbled around with no direction. In this year, I've become envious of people who've already made it, jealous of the success of others. But I'm not like them. I need a bit more time to get where they were. Part of me still wants to become famous, but I don't need that much money... just enough to drink loose leaf tea when I like, put maple syrup on my pancakes, have a reservoir of purified water and a steady, powerful internet connection.

I went back to school to regain my confidence. And to an extent, I did. It served its purpose. Now I just need to get independent, become better at managing myself. Squash the evil voices in my mind.

I have a community that supports me, to an extent. And I need to support them back, be one of them for a while.

I have a gift of seeing things clearly, and articulating them well. I can be a voice for people who can't speak for themselves. The thought is exciting.
rainspirit: (damiel)
You know. I wouldn't mind so much having another roommate or two if they weren't men. Or in this case, boys.

I like women. Hell, I have this deep, Yeats-like, unrequited love for them, but that sort of affection isn't relevant to this kind of conversation. I like women and I respect women, and I make an effort to make myself agreeable to them. And I think for the most part, I'm one of the few men in the world that isn't waging a battle against the opposite sex.

Maybe it's terribly naive to think I could pull it off, but living with another woman, not necessarily my girlfriend but just another person? Might not be so bad. It'd mean less slovenlyness on my part, most likely. I wouldn't wander the house in my boxer shorts. I'd look presentable if only to give credit to my upbringing. It'd be nice to have an excuse to take better care of myself, and my appearance.

My beard's growing to the point of unruliness and it's getting in the way of things again. Gotta trim it down. Hell, I'll need to shave it off for this part, except you know what, maybe not. For reasons. But I know he occasionally reads this blog, I don't need to jeopardize the friendship anymore than I have. I've already been a shithead to him.

I talked with a counselor today, and I went swimming. Today should be a success. Why am I so depressed, then?

I'm trying to sleep early. Tried. Because I can't think of anything else to do but continue to avoid pain in my usual way. Pain and stubbornness.

There's something I'm looking forward to in the morning, but it's in the morning. So I'll miss it. Might as well not disappoint myself and stress myself trying to make it on the goddamn fucking asshole buses that rule my life at the moment, right?
rainspirit: (Default)
FYI, I'm shaving my head on April 3rd. For reasons.

I miss the goddamn cord to my goddamn headphones. I need music. I need it.

It costs $15 plus shipping, or plus the ferry ticket to Vancouver to get to the Bose store. Ugh.

I hate how coffee makes me feel. It's energy without enthusiasm. It's tiredness while moving. It makes me feel like an animated corpse.

And I finally have started missing my bike. My goddamn bike.

It was entirely my fault that I lost it. I just didn't appreciate it anymore. Left it in bizarre, stupid places for over a week, and the one time I did, I made it so entirely easy. Didn't even lock it properly. It was my own fault I lost it. I wanted to regret losing it so I'd appreciate it more, as stupid as it sounds.

Because biking is an awful, strenuous activity. It's forward, repetitive motion with your arms and legs locked into a constraining position, moving ever forward. Rollerblading's so much more fun, so much more active. But it's also not as convenient a way of getting around, I know this. Particularly after I bent one of the wheels and lost one of the screws.

But I do miss my bike. Anything for another day away from public transportation. Anything away from watching all the fucking, goddamn buses drive away ahead of schedule, not even stopping for two seconds to let me climb on. I can't stand buses anymore, I can't. Stand. Buses. Anymore. I can't do it. I need to not do it for a while.

I hate their noises, I hate the tight, constrained spaces, I hate bumping my head on the ceiling of the double decker's top floor. I hate the drivers, who I can't feel anger for because they're just doing their goddamn job. I hate the budget cuts, the schedule changes, the phasing out of paper-bound bus schedules, the lack of adherence to any schedule in the first place. I hate it all. I can't stand it.

I wish I could feel enthusiasm, any kind of enthusiasm at all for getting to class on time, but I don't, I don't, I don't want to do this anymore. I need to do something different.

I don't think I'm going to qualify for second year. I'm just going to let myself give in, stop worrying about whether I'm going to do it or not. Just get through. Just pass the course, at least, at least. Then do it another time, when I'm more confident.

If my goal is to stay alive, to stay happy, to do what I'd like to do, then not doing school for a while is a step in the right direction. I can come back to it when it's too difficult.
rainspirit: (Default)
Missed it. Missed everything today.

Missed the deadline. Missed the post office (closed on weekends), won't be able to send the comic book family wanted me to send. Missed the talk about game's journalism among all the other events happening today at the Games without Fontiers thing. Missed Matt's play. Missed the swimming pool. That's what happens when you wake up at 11:00 and spend the whole morning/afternoon in, walking around being a complete basketcase.

Walked around school, counseling building, closed. Not open on weekends, maybe. Everything's closed after 5:00, which is when I got here. Nothing's open.

Talking to myself. Hurting myself with my own words, conversation with self turning violent. Wanting to hit a wall, or hurt myself. When I realized I missed everything I wanted to do today, I wanted to take the book in my hands and hit it against a wall. But I didn't have the energy. So now it's just self-hatred, bubbling up from my own lips.

I need help. I need to talk to people. I need to keep exercising my body so there isn't all this pent-up aggression.

But that's not going to happen, because I've fallen into a loop that I can't climb out from. And it's a loop that's going to kill me.

Maybe I was wrong. It's just getting worse. It's my own bad decisions that have gotten here, my own stupid pride. I keep going back on the verge of self-harm.

Nothing sticks.
rainspirit: (Default)
I don't want anyone worrying about me.

That's why I don't like asking for help. Even if I need it. People who know me, know that.

On my worst days, I try to protect other people from myself. I tell them that things are okay. I convince myself.

But I'm kidding, really. Telling lies, which I hate. It just twists things when I do. And I know: Things won't be okay until I start making goals for myself again. Things won't be okay until I stop hiding behind excuses and make myself into someone who wants to be here.

I just didn't want anyone to be disappointed, or worried about me. There's still time to fix things, isn't there? Isn't there still time? Always waiting till the deadline to get my act together, and when there's no deadline, I fall behind.

My mind has desperately been looking for role models, something to justify this supreme lack of drive, this lack of self. I look into the stories of younger days, looking into self-styled heroes and protagonists in their own story. It's okay, they were slackers too, they were confused and they couldn't find jobs and their friends worried about them too.

Some people can laugh about the times when they make earnest promises to themselves and then break them on the next day. Not me. Nope, I can't let myself do that, I have to make myself suffer for it. I have to guilt myself so hard that I run away again. Goddamnit, when am I going to break the cycle?

Matt invited me to see the rehearsal of the play, the rehearsal with the script I wrote. The script I meant to modify and send to him, and I can't get my act together enough to do that. Twenty minutes before they were going to put it on, I was cooking breakfast for myself and looking at the clock.

There's a games summit thing at my university, games without frontiers, talks I want to be in on, and I haven't gotten dressed for the day. What is wrong with me? Why can't I see beyond my own self-indulgences?

Why am I so stubborn to the voice that tells me to wake up?

All I've got are dreams that come and go. All I have are goals that I brush up against, as they reoccur, as I want them. Wanting is all I do these days. I can't commit. I go for what's easy. I stay oblivious. And people will abandon me for it, sooner or later. I won't be anything to them but a sad reminder.

Need to stop with this self-pity and stop writing and get up and at least get one thing done. Need to go to the post office and send my nephew a present, at the least, at the least. Promise myself that I'll look over my notes and revise the stories I want to tell, that I need to tell. Plan my own tiny little breakdown as I find I can't commit to my own goals.
rainspirit: (Default)
If I can change one habit of mine, one, no matter how harmless, then I change all the rest.

I just learned that today. If I change one thing about my life, right now, starting now, then that willpower can be directed elsewhere.

I'm giving up sugar.

Candy, chocolates, bake sales, donation sales, pastries, cinnamon buns. One month of this. Maybe longer.

Maybe also honey and maple syrup, but that's up for discussion. Point being: Extra things that cost me money, things I don't need, nor should I ingest.

It's gonna really unbalance me, but it'll probably be good in the long run. Especially if I start exercising again.

I need some change. I know this. If I start with one, maybe the others will fall in line.
rainspirit: (Default)
I should get moving. Get moving. Get, get, moving.

I count the minutes down. I watch them go by, trying in vain to understand how it is that everything depends so much on timing. It means my shame if I miss it. It means I won't have time to clean up. It means that I can't sleep in. Have to get moving, have to go.

Have to write, even if it's about nothing, even if it's circular repetition, because sooner or later I get off the roller coaster and go somewhere else, some other ride.

I started to 'get' David Bowie while on a bus on the way to the ferry. Started listening to Ground Control to Major Tom as I was trying to calm down, because I was on the journey straight to a ferry terminal, and had already known that there was no way I'd make it, short of a miracle.

I'm on the bus now on the way to school. If there's any better metaphor for not having agency of my own life, I can't think of one. I climb on and it takes me in a direction, towards a class, towards a degree. It's mostly unknowns to me. I can't even imagine what's on the other side. All I desperately want is there to be no more monotomy. But that's not a realistic view.

Trying to read my entries from ten years ago, on my LJ account. Painful. Yet how far have I evolved, beyond those awful quizzes ("YOU'RE A HERBIVORE FURRY") and the "yay for ______"?

"Planet Earth is blue, and there's nothing I can do..."

I'm starting to see the blanks in the parts of my writing where I backspaced over the words I meant to say.

Some music is for when you're vulnerable. Other music is for when you need armour. Wonder how many people have made that distinction, in what forms?

Times like this I wish I was a tragic lover. Even if that were a truth, it'd be a little too depressing to play a solo act.

Times like this when I wish I could express language in some other form. Music or another language. The words are becoming stale.

Melancholia is draining the magic from me.
rainspirit: (Default)
Things are getting better. Most people know why.

I'll have more to write about later.
rainspirit: (Default)

Everyone needs to stop telling me I'm brilliant.
rainspirit: (damiel)
Skip. )
rainspirit: (Default)
I really, really need to write about something, or talk with someone, but I don't have anything in particular to say. Most people up at this hour are waking up or doing their own thing or there's a little snippet of concern between us that I don't feel like broaching.

I made a list. A list of all the things I have to do. Not sure how many pages it amounts to, but it's pretty large. Let's try the three things ... thing again. I have to try.

I want to get away from talking about my life.

Can't I just be happy once in a while? Even if I'm wasting my life, fucking up university, neglecting my real life friends that I know in real life because the friends I talk to are not friends I really know, and almost but not quite getting to the point where I'm churning out semi-regular prose pieces, I just want to enjoy the trivial things that I'm a part of, even if it's part of a familiar, samey cycle. I want to enjoy the things that make me happy, even if there's so many things that go missing from my head.

I always have to fight myself to do anything I don't want to do, or the things I know are important. I have to fight the urge to not want to care. I, aye, iy.

Doing it again.

Contemporary fiction bores me to fucking tears. I miss the days where I read something that enthralled me. I want surreal, strange, beautiful, terrifying. I want characters that pierce the veil of a mundane world and uncover a dangerous, compelling universe. Maybe that's why I'm enjoying the things I'm doing so much - I'm playing through fairytales and collecting research material. I'm learning how to tell a fairytale through characters.

I tell myself it's all useful, when too much of it's just entertainment. But still, I'm going to have to sacrifice something I enjoy to the cult of professional career-making. I'm going to have to learn how to fucking survive in a culture that demands I monetize the things I love doing.

And I have to decide how in hell I can be useful to someone, or something, for more than minimum wage.

The problem is that I hate competition. I hate the idea of competition. Sell a job to me as a race and I'll bow out before the gun goes off. I'd much rather die, penniless, in a ditch than have to fight myself, fight myself and then tell you how much I'm worth as a human being.

I I ay ay ay ay ay--shut UP.


Jan. 14th, 2013 08:00 am
rainspirit: (Default)

This is a start.

Ten minutes to get out of this room.

To get to class.

No sleep. Lots of tea. Coffee.

Spent most of the night thinking. And watching.

Deciding I needed an out from dreamland. One of the best friends of my life, Claire, said something that echoed a thing my therapist said.

I get it.

I acknowledge how debilitating it was to save up and buy a high-end gaming PC, the culmination of my dreams, the fulfillment of my fantasies. The thing I justified by saying that it'd help me get back into games. It helped me get back into games all right.

As a result, I flunked one class, dropped another, got a barely passing grade on the next, and threatened to make advancement in the Writing program impossible.

I spent last evening buying Starbucks for the first time in years, drinking something non-caffeinated. Alone and worried that there was nothing left for me, that my message was extinct.

I spent 5:30 AM listening to a brain doctor on TED talk about her experience with having a stroke, and how it helped her glimpse Nirvana.

The intangible is real. I've felt it before. I've felt its transparency and have let it inside of me more than once.

Sometimes it's good to starve your brain of sleep, just to get it to pay attention.

I cleaned my room a little, not a lot, but enough to find a couple things. I'm back. I think I'm back. I'm okay. I can do this, maybe, I hope.

Going to go with my best friend after class and talk about my play. Hopefully I can keep coherent notes before that.

Turned off all social networking for a week. Not getting on MMOs. Limiting internet as much as possible, going to put this body of mine through withdrawal. My Id deserves a little suffering for all the torment it's put me through, all the but I want it, please? please? please?, and I need the computer I need the computer I need.

Time to starve my brain.

Time to make it fast. Let the ideas come back in.

Had the revelation. All my stories are about searching for a woman, in some fashion or another. It's about longing for a soulmate. All my stories are a search for love, and for understanding.

Is that too limited? I want to be understood so bad. I want to be loved.

Someone told me last night that the character I made was bland, boring and uninteresting. The character I played, that I lived. That I wrote stories about, and put one on the internet.

How can a creature I created with so much depth be boring? I suppose it's a matter of perspective. I can see into her world. What does that tell me?

I don't know, but by dwelling on it, I'll find meaning somewhere.

Go go go. Switch on the Gaia machine. Tap into the longing you feel, to seek out that love, to transform it into art. Man the engines of creation, stoke its flames. This is my hymn: To call forth the love of creation, to make two characters seek each other out. To make it beautiful.

Time to fly.

No Subject

Dec. 29th, 2012 05:04 pm
rainspirit: (damiel)

My life feels different than it was from August, but nothing's changed much. It's shifted.

This must be a reoccuring thing for everyone: The slow vertigo moment of realizing that you've been pushed into making decisions on your own, being counted on to follow up on meaningful decisions. Self-reliance. All of a sudden I'm reminded of the dead cat on the roof joke: Instead of telling the owner on vacation that the cat is dead, tell him that the cat was stuck on the roof and couldn't get down; then the next day, that cat fell off, is at the vet for surgery; next day, the cat is dead. Preparing the owner for anticipation of shock and grief, rather than hitting them full in the face with it.

Despite all the slow baby steps of Vancouver Film School, going into apartment life with two other dudes, and finding myself back on this cozy little island, I still haven't made the transition. I still don't know what I'm doing yet.

Here's what I haven't been telling anyone:

Classes-wise, things aren't looking good. I've got an overall C grade in the one course I've been trying to ace. This is probably because I missed the morning class four times and they dropped me down. I need a B+ average to continue in it to the next year, so unless something is shifted, then I've got to be bloody amazing to even pass this course.

For one of my two English classes, I didn't get in a final essay assignment that was critical for my grade, so no matter how well I did on the exam, I'm still unable to pass the course. The professor indicated in an email that it was already probably too late to make it up. I might talk to my Fine Arts advisor to see what I can do, but I'm expecting a lot of stony, curt snippets of advice as opposed to actual guidance.

My other English class isn't doing great either, because I bungled submitting so many of the assignments. I think I'm passing, but I'm not sure. (I should check.)

Then there's also the fact that I dropped a required course. Have to take that in the summer, probably. Considering these dismal grades, I don't think any amount of brilliance is going to impress them to let me skip some of these hoop-jumpings.


Things aren't looking good. I'm not exactly sure how to feel, because I don't feel panic until the last minute, generally. And this is beyond the last minute, the point of few returns. And I struggle to decide what I'm going to do next.

There's a blind spot in my head where I try to hide from one of the major reasons for my doing so dismally. It's staring at me as I type this. I don't want it to be the reason I did so poorly, but even if it wasn't... it certainly didn't help. Just another tool for my escapism.

Get better next time, if there's a next time. Analyze what went wrong and do better. Debrief and make myself accountable.

Blogging may help. Let's see if I can keep this going.
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