I finally got my story finished and posted on BitterBuffalo.com. It’s a fictionalized account of how Mikhail Lermontov may have died, a buffalo his only intellectual friend. I actually tried three times; the first two attempts were just a tad too serious, so I threw them out. I tried to get all the themes of Russian romantic literature in there, such as nihilism, fatalism, and revolution, but didn’t write too much for fear of boring the reader.
Posts tagged with "writing"
Needlessly
I just spent three hours writing an entry that got me nowhere. All I found out is that sometimes life seems harder than it should be.
Garrulousness
I recently renewed my contract with my current host for another year of service. I’m a little surprised that this page hasn’t fallen into desuetude over the last year. I suppose it’s only now, at 22, that I’m able to find meaning in almost all aspects of my life, that I have enough to write about. My previous seven or so pages have been rather empty, although there was more variety in the content. I don’t think I’ve ever had a layout last this long.
It’s usually when I have a negative emotion that I’m able to write, but the last year has been a series of ups and downs, although mostly ups, and considered to be more stable than previous years. Sometimes I can read back on previous entries and re-experience the emotion I was feeling at the time of writing them. I’m surprised that I’m not embarrassed about some entries, how rawly I’d express myself, and what I was thinking at the time. I find that I’m usually embarrassed by how ignorant, stupid, and idiotic a person I used to be. Aaron explains to me, of course, that it’s all just a measure of how far I’ve come, but it’s sometimes it’s difficult to think of what I was like and not feel shame.
I remember the nights I spent, after all classes were finished, coming home, cooking a meal, taking a shower, all I’d have left was to sit in front of my glowing monitor and write. When all I wanted, at the end of the day, was to be able to turn the lights out, write until my eyes felt too tired to focus, and go to sleep satisfied. I’m not sure if I remember those nights fondly or not.
And perhaps there are more to come.
It Was The Gentle Waves
Access to my control panel, my database, and my scripts has been temporarily disabled. Apparently, a representative of a musical group has contacted my host in regards to an mp3 I have stored. Instead of contacting me first, the representative decided to bring the issue up with my host. I would have been fine with removing the mp3 from my site if I was simply asked. I realized that it was a violation of my terms of service, but I didn’t think that anyone ever visited this site, so I had the song for archival purposes. Now, I have no way of updating my content, in what has become my main healing medium. I cannot be slowed by this, and even though it feels as though I have no means of expression or communication, I still feel the need to write.
Emotional Cuirass
Yo.
It’s been difficult to write lately. Sometimes I peruse other peoples’ blogs, note their wit and style, and wish I could write as interestingly as they do. Then I remember that I only write for myself anyway and that it doesn’t matter if I sound boring or pretentious. Nevertheless, my writers’ block has partially been due to the fact that I’ve been experiencing some odd mood swings. It’s not even so much due to the ephemeral nature of my emotions, but more related to the fact that I don’t understand what I’m feeling.
Some things make me happy. Some things make me depressed.
I think I’m mostly just content, which is a feeling I’m not quite used to yet. It’s almost as if I’m floating in a pool of lukewarm liquid, unsure of what my senses tell me. All I know is that my dysthymic phase has long left me. For now, I have resigned myself to experiencing such emotions with an open mind, with the hope that I will some day understand them.
I remember wanting to keep my emotions in check a long time ago, wanting to become a completely cerebral person. Nowadays, I’m not so sure that this was such a good idea, not that I’ve been able to fully succeed in such a monstrous task. Perhaps a balance is needed in something such as this as well. A lack of emotions may cause a better appreciation for the few emotions one experiences, or vice-versa.
My rationale has changed on this because my experiences have changed. Growing up in a chaotic world of confusion and pain, I wanted an emotional barrier to prevent any further mental agony. Now, I’ve accomplished more, loved more, been loved more, and felt more. Perhaps I now feel that happiness is worth the possibility of mental anguish. Sometimes it feels as if I’m waiting for a terrible incident to revert my views. Life, however, seems to be getting better.
I just wish I knew what I was feeling.