A Long Day

After a sleepless night and a kind wait for my parents to depart, I was finally back to a state I had not been in over three months. I was home alone, cast off to do my own bidding in a place that I could arrange as my own temple. And so my first action of the day was to go out and seek breakfast food from a fast food place. I first thought maybe McDonalds, because I was craving their breakfast burritos, but I soon discovered something rotten about living here in subburbia, they actually close down and do not open at four in the morning. And yes, I checked a multitude of locations before finally letting the white flag rise and moving onward. I went to Einstein's instead and had a lovely bagel sandwich, though it did not replace my original want of a good breakfast burrito. The second action I attempted for the day was to start writing.

For the first time in months I have started writing again, working on a fresh story with some brand new ideas. I cannot say that I have made very much progress so far, but that is from both being captivated by other things, having other tasks at hand, and just not being very satisfied with the way my story was beginning. Already I have re-written the beginning at least five times and after re-reading what I had written a little later I am already thinking of re-writing it again. And that saddens me that I cannot find the right footing for my story, which may or may not be the most important part to where this goes. Still, what I have is better than what I had and what I want is but an arms grasp away I hope. So I will continue writing to see where this goes, and hopefully after I purge this start I will be able to more successfully continue on faster.

But that was not the long part of the day. After both the sleepless night and trying time and time again to write that beginning, I grew tired and decided to fall asleep. I do not think I have had such a deep sleep in months, for there were no worries to be placed upon me and nothing to wake me up. I slept for hours, comfortable and confidently as the deep sleep pulled me in. Stress was a thing of the past and when I awoke I was actually sore from sleeping so well. That is right, I woke-up to find that my body was actually more sore then than it had been before I sought off for my dreamy worlds. So I stretched and began the rest of my day, which at that point was at sundown.

I went to the store, something I have not done in a while, and I bought several items of food that have been missing from my parents household since my Dad resumed cooking again. I do not think he understands that if you cook with fresh vegetables and fruits you end up with a more delicious meal. Anyway, I bought several things that I thought I might need in the coming week and then returned back home. Upon getting there, my stomach growled and I felt the fit of hunger that bestows upon a young person of my age who has not eaten in over eight hours. I set forth cooking a spicy chicken recipe that I had invented rather myself and come to love. It came out perfectly and then I felt tired again. 

But before letting the dreamy worlds get the best of me, I also started my laundry. When I would wake, it would be folding time for lots of clothes. On a side note, that was the first time that I had actually proceeded to do laundry in at least a month. Sure, I changed out my pants when they started to feel dirty and I would grab at a clean shirt after every shower, but that was still the longest time I have ever gone without doing laundry before. And then I feel asleep for the second time in the day. After waking up, I folded the clothes and decided to write a blog to explain everything, which looking back feels rather empty of any actual news. Oh well. I have a feeling I will not be sleeping tonight, maybe I will write another. Better yet, maybe I will start back at working on my novel!

Sitting Here with Peaches

I could not sleep tonight, which might be a symptom of having taken a nap earlier in the evening and then waking up. I say earlier, but in truth I really mean at bed time and then waking during the middle of the night. In either case to which you are reading this, considering this, and maybe even pondering this, I am awake. So first matter of business was to satisfy my stomach, which is why I am now sitting here with a bowl of peaches. Thank God for canned foods, otherwise I might actually have to go to the store.

Anyway, not a whole lot to do tonight since I've pretty much watched every movie that I could On Demand. I know that by saying that I am basically saying I watched weeks upon weeks of movies, but if you have not gotten the picture from my other blogs right now then you probably have failed to realize just how much free time I have. And earlier I was watching Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. I must have watched that movie enough times to know all the best lines without ever watching it again, I was mainly using the movie as a tool to try and get to me to go sleep. If this blog is any clue, it did not work very well. So after about an hour of listening to Daniel Radcliffe, to which I despise no matter how cute he was when he was young, I decided it was time to get up and start eating or something. And in accordance with my friend Vicki, that sounds about right since we "ate our way through San Francisco" because we are "foodies." It only makes sense that I should start eating now.

On some other random notes, I finally started writing again. Granted, what I have written in Microsoft Word is not exactly all that much, but it is the start of an idea. I think that was the problem I was having up until tonight, I could not easily formulate or see an idea of what I wanted to write. That was, until I was suddenly struck by one that just kind of captivated me. It is nothing like I have personally ever done before, but it is something I think I can easily write about. Anyway, I have also set-up a brand new goal along with this brand new idea. While my parents are away and I have a house all to myself, I am just going to sit down every day and write until my fingers are bleeding all over the keyboard. The plan, finish an entire novel by the end of the week. That way when they get back I can go back into hibernation or maybe send my novel off to friends and order them to read it and love it. I know my friends, they'll love this idea.

Who knows though. They say the start of a new day is at the end of another, or at least if they have not then I claim all rights to that phrase right now and everyone must quote me. Otherwise, that is a quote form an anonymous source. You get the idea, I'm rambling. I think I might go finish up my other blog right now. Yeah, I have another whole blog in the works, but it is just another movie review...

Writing Exercise: The Sailor and the Meese

The following is a fairy tale that I wrote in approximately thirty minutes through text messages. Now, normally my fairy tales are not very good because they lack any sort of depth and pretty much have no plot behind them. But somehow the following one I wrote came out pretty well. And just for the hell of it, I am also including all of my friend's comments when she gave them and while I was writing this in a second column. I promise to keep them posted approximately when I  received them. Anyway, without further ado, here is the fairy tale I wrote.

Another Abstract: The Same Old Dream

I cannot be exactly sure where in my head I was when I wrote the following piece, but it was yet another late-night writing exercise. It probably was created somewhere in the deeper thoughts of what I am currently thinking about, but still the following is a quick piece I wrote. And after writing it, and maybe because I was just a bit bored, I decided to upload it to my blog. Who knows, maybe someone will read it and think it is brilliant, though abstract and random as it is. So here it is, another abstract I wrote.

The Void of the Same Old Dream
Ever get that feeling like you are just wasting away your time, like your current presence on this planet is about as meaningful as a rock. You get this idea that you are matter, floating through the infinite space and consuming and changing other matter that you bump into, but in the end nothing has really changed. Instead, you have become just a different set of matter that has moved on. In this scenario, time becomes nothing, a separate thought completely since there is no reason to measure it lest you want to know what part of the day you are in. And even that stop mattering, because you stay awake late and night and ponder the many mysteries that man has pondered since the beginning of time.

It is in this state that I am now moving into the third month of my blog's existence and the third month of my unemployment reign. And for what I've got to offer, which is not a whole lot to the world right now since they do not see my piece of mind as more than entertaining (which I should maybe take as a compliment), is just more space for words to fill the void. More space taken up by the thoughts and impressions that I can leave, an implant.

It is that same implant on your bed, the one where you clutch at night as if there is someone there to fill the space that air occupies. It is a strange feeling, to be that amount of nothingness that floats around and exaggerates everything because there is nothing that cannot be exaggerated. And the sense of senselessness becomes the property of the proposition, a dedication to the delegation and a prison of prions. And yet it is still void.

Void. I stare at the paper as blank as the day that it was purchased and I see nothing but the white. There are blue lines running across it, it is notebook paper filled into the spiral notebook I bought from the store. Still, there is nothing on it and it just fills in the space between to slightly thicker cover and the cardboard back. So why does it matter as such, that the paper be empty of a scratch of ink or a dash of the pencil. because of the possibilities that lie beneath every thought that crosses over the page. To press the pen and to give a meaning fills the book, gives it purpose in translating though from one person to the next and from one minute to another. Yet before any of that happens there is an infinity in the void. Because in having an absence of absolution there is actually an infinite amount of possibilities. And that is why I stare at the paper and watch as my mind bubbles up the images off the pages and into my head. Because there is no limit to the thoughts that can fill it until the pen touches.

But it does not matter, because I am not looking at the paper. Instead, I am staring at the void of space next to me in my bed, the thing that could be filled with a person, could be permitted to be something more than just empty space. It is nothing, there is no one there, but it means more than that. Until there is someone lying next to me, filling the void and warming the grasp it is an infinite amount of possibilities. Possibilities and possessions they mean the exact opposite, but only when talking about the bit of air.

And since there is no time, no space, nothing else to stare at because you are matter floating through space, it turns out that there never was a bed there to begin with. Instead, it was just your imagination as you float on to become something more than just the rock. You float on to become more than that, to be a thing that someone else wants to hear about the thoughts and impressions.