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Okay.
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.
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.