[Note: Post consists of 3 topics, unrelated other than by chronology.]
It didn’t take me long at all to slip into my “normal” schedule of keeping vampire hours. Less than a week. (Yay?)
I’ve always loved the night. The stars and the solitude and the sense that everything is somehow simultaneously so meaningful and so meaningless. One of my favorite things ever is pointless whispered conversations in the darkness. Always.
The problem with this is that my schedule is now at odds with the majority of the human beings around me. Honestly, my contrarian side is inclined to say Fuck ’em. If they want me, they know when to find me … but there’s the whole “money” thing and how that’s necessary to, you know, stay alive and stuff.
I was basically giving myself a pass on looking for a new job while I removed the blue from my hair (fucking Montana…) but now that I’m pretty much back to blonde again, I need to get working on that.
[Alt-hair tip: Dish soap is amazing for washing semi-perm dye out. Almost as good as low-volume bleach, if repeated every other day or so–horribly drying but nothing compared to bleach. However, as an unintended consequence, there’s a slight chance that I might smell like lemons forever. O_o]
Depression is a shark. It slips low and I usually don’t see it but I know it’s there: I can feel it, just under the surface, waiting.
When it grabs on, it grips hard and tight and all the way to the bone… and there’s no escaping its jaws (it’s a metaphorical shark, you see, so no gills to punch). All you can really do is let go… just let it take you (again, it’s a metaphorical shark: it can hurt you but no one has died from it on its own).
Rejection is another shark. Similar to above but this one’s easier to avoid: you stop asking the questions that will attract it like blood in the ocean. Or you build an emotional shark cage to hold it back.
I’m not talking about writing here. Rejection in writing is a necessary part of improving said writing. If you don’t know where the faults are, however will you fix them?
My brain’s always been really good at taking professional rejection, it’s personal rejection that terrifies me. So I deny myself things I want because I don’t want to risk not getting them. (Confused? Me too.)
What kind of life is that? It’s not a shark-free life… the shark’s still there because it will always be there. And what’s a shark bite or two between friends or maybe lovers or whatever-we’re-calling-it-today?
Not Writing: Pretty much exactly what it sounds like; any activity that isn’t writing.
Not-Writing: Not writing when one should be writing; avoiding writing. Often leads to a feeling of disconnectedness with the world and/or loss of self-identity. Not a good place to be.
It’s a fine line, one I don’t usually see until I abruptly realize I just tripped over it. I feel like I might be approaching that line, so it’s probably time I wrote something.