star_swan: (The Violin Student by Stephen Seymour Th)
I was going to post a longer entry as well as review the latest episode of Doctor Who, Smile, but I took out the violin sometime after ten o' clock, looked up a little(?) bit later, and realized that it was already past midnight! I am so knackered now, and yet, still awake.

Definitely tomorrow though. I enjoyed Bill greatly, yet again, as well as her interaction with The Doctor, though there were a couple of things about the episode that I found a tad bizarre (aside from its feeling like a mash up of every dystopian episode in recent years complete with the colony/settlement looking a bit like an abandoned shopping arcade/mall).

I know I am not supposed to be paying too close attention to plots. ;P

Eff it.

Mar. 31st, 2015 08:37 pm
star_swan: (Default)
I write in here nearly every day, at least three times per week, and I have been keeping this up for the past two years. Before that I was writing a handful of times a month. And I have been locking all of my entries. Why the fuck have I been doing this?

Putting this here because it is amazing: extreme words of wisdom about playing an instrument, specifically piano. It highlights how you have to work steadily, consistently, and reasonably resting in between sessions.

My favorite line: You can't cram the piano.


So working on third day in a row of tossing and turning. I would always get back to sleep, but then I would wake up again. My cycles seemed to elongate as I approached dawn, probably because I was talking to myself (in my head) and trying to soothe myself back to sleep and into a more prolonged sleep, which worked, albeit with weird side effects. I would be dreaming and I would think to myself, "Damn! This feels so good, sleeping." and "I can see the edge of the dream. It's the outside world. Shit! Don't want to wake up again!" And then I would "physically" run away and plunge deeper into the dreamscape. I would even feel myself waking up and I would force it away. Then I thought, "Gee. I hope that I can wake up again if I need to." I can do this thing where I can be dreaming and I can decide to wake up, not every night, but a lot of nights. Lucid dreaming is really cool and also kinda strange. Being able to control your sleep means that any stressor or misstep and you can wind up with a jacked up sleep schedule. Mind over matter is not always a picnic, more like a demented carnival ride.

I've decided to pretend like this is a normal day and that I do not feel half delirious with dark circles under my eyes. I don't think that napping is going to fix it. Perversely, if I do my practice (gently) and manage to accomplish things, slowly, it will put my mind at ease better than trying to take half-assed naps would. The last time that I was sleep less, getting good and exhausted was the only sure way to calm my arse down. It's like I have to really want the sleep because a lot of the time I am too wound up or spinning my gears too much to settle down and accept the loss of consciousness. Even if I think that I want to go sleep. Spinning stories helps because it takes concentration, but is also diverting and relaxing and eventually you lose the thread and drift off. How sick is it that I play mind games with myself in order to sleep?

That and Camp NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow. It's the same as regular except that you can set lower or higher word counts for yourself for the month. And I do not want it to be like camp when I was nine years old where I was sad, beleaguered, and half feral from lack of rest.


***********

Three hours before three o' clock! Woohoo!! I spent a lot of it practicing Bach (which is restful for the sleepy mind) and this thing called Parisian Street Scene which has a pretty wicked tempo and is a lot of fun. I feel so accomplished right now, I can't even tell you. I think that I am going to do some leisurely exercises, grab a coconut water, and go sit outside at the shadier end of my patio and luxuriate in beneath the crepe myrtle and snapdragons/mint/violas/morning glories. It is pretty dope out there now with everything lush and flowering, have to say.

Mint water is GREAT! Ice water with crushed mint leaves in it to be exact.

I had to stop myself from going back to the piano earlier. I am tempted to play a little more, just something leisurely. So long as I do my three hours, I suppose I can do extra dabbling here and there. I think that I am going to start doing daily s l o w trill exercises. I started to do hand over hand arpeggios a couple (??) of days ago.

Tonight, I need to shower after dinner (I am going back to showering in the evenings because I forgot to this morning and I realized that it is weird after having showered for years in the evenings, pretty much my entire life with a brief interlude from HS or uni??) and then finish transferring notes and snippets into Scrivener. Tomorrow is IT. 1,110 words per day for a month. I can do this. I just need to find a suitable time of day. Seems like mornings would be best, first thing, after breakfast but before the piano.

Might have to dance this evening to induce serious tiredness. That and it will drive away over thinking by refocusing my energy into my body.
star_swan: (Seven BAMF)
What an amazing Saturday after such a lackluster Friday evening. The afternoon was lovely yesterday, but I began to feel more and more tired and sore (in the throat). I felt the front of my throat and it was a little swollen. Cue freaking out. Spent the rest of the evening on the couch watching Shiro Neko videos and feeling a little down. I awoke late cause Saturday. Colin wanted me to leave and give him a couple of hours to himself in the house. I was a little hesitant but I threw on a blazer and jeans after switching out of one of my new dresses and cycled down the path with my bag full of Russian books, counterpoint, and a hardcover journal that I write in once a week to sort of check in on myself, life listening to The Strokes on my iPod. I had no clue where I was going, but I wound up on this one path just past the library on campus. It is the perfect combinations of sunshine and shade. I was grateful that I changed because the ground was hard and it was still a little chilly. I sat there listening to music, reading last week's entry and then writing a new one occasionally sketching tree branches. It was lovely. When the music stopped, I just sat there and listened to the surrounding art buildings humming and the birds for about an hour.
Cycled past people sunning themselves by the lake and proceeded with haste to WF to relieve my bladder. Got a snack and a coconut water and wandered for a little bit. Hung out in the arboretum listening to Brahms' Violin Concerto in D. Watched the birds and this ridiculous ginger cat that I once tried to collect and take back to his oblivious caretakers on a rainy afternoon last year. My throat felt a bit better and was noticeably less swollen! Hooray! It was so nice lazily taking in the sights and listening to tunes. Felt so good to be alive watching the sun glint off the trees, the water, the people walking past. It was like the town was my backyard, I felt so at home. Colin texted to apologize for pseudo kicking me out but I was well pleased. Sitting there listening to music rekindled my resolve to not waste any time with writing and with music, but also to get a grip. I set a rough date as a goal for having everything together, how I get there is up to me complete with marathon work periods and days here and there of rest and slacking. I need that freedom at least to maneuver in time and space. So by May 2016, I want to have a first draft of the novel ready (or perhaps what I mean is a revised version that could be ready to show to someone) along with considerable improvement on the keyboard and with musical studies. I want to have written something or be really exploring composing.

I ran into my folks on the way back, sprinted to the house to use the bathroom again and then went back out to meet them back at WF. Listened to Petrushka. It is a little weird and sort of sad, but I love it. On the way back I lost sight of them behind me and so lingered by Hart Hall and these poplars that I like. Sat on a bench for someone named "Jennifer" who passed away several years ago by the looks of the bench, probably within the last ten. She couldn't have been more than thirty-something. I patted the bench and told her that I was sorry that her life ended so soon.

By the time I made it back for the second time (and saw Colin and Callie on the path this time), I was pretty tired. It is a little before eight and I am exhausted. My throat is a bit better, but still a little rough and I was out all day. So nice though. I want to look at Russian, but I need to lie down a little first.
star_swan: (Black & White Stripes)
I just had to post this because it is the most hilarious description of S. that I have ever read. It is not entirely accurate, but who cares because it made me laugh til I was hurting at past two in the morning. I was googling any correlation between S. and drug use used to induce similar experiences.

Found on this ridiculous website.

"Synesthesia is a rare genetic disorder in which the sensory passages in the brain are crossed allowing for total trippage all the fuckin' times."


*snorts*

"Just The Facts
1. Synesthesia would be awesome to have.
2. It would also be horrible.
3. Still though, I'd like to have chicken that would taste triangular."


That is all.
Goodnight!
star_swan: (We're All Mad Here (Slytherin))
Holy shit, that line. *points to subject* Perfectly put. I was thinking just the other day, semi-jokingly, about how my Id sort of gets it's way, rather frequently. I just don't see the point in saying, "No" what seems like most of the time, so long as it isn't harming anyone. If the Id Vortex were a carnival ride, uhm, yeah...the people who worked it would probably see me on it, er, daily and be like, "Oh, It's you again."

I should turn this into a Lifestyle Choice or a Way of Life. I can start my ride with that frankly ridiculous chocolate pudding downstairs that I just copped from TJ's.

OH. Good news. Great news. Excellent news!! I checked online, they finally updated and it is official. I got an "A" in my Anatomy class! I am so so happy about this (obviously). I just didn't want to assume and it feels so nice to have gotten that grade considering that this was a Summer class where an entire semester's worth of material is shoved into half the time. I'm a little bit proud here. :D

*groans* The pudding nearly killed me. I dolloped what I thought was a reasonable portion into a cute little bowl with a cow on the side and after a few bites, it tasted so damned chocolatey, it was painful. Then I experienced a massive sugar rush. Then I was laughing a bit hysterically. Perhaps starting down the Id Vortex at eleven o' clock at night is not the best idea.

I need to write to Angie about this though. If anyone would be willing to ride the Id Vortex with me, it's her, my bonkers Leo best friend!

In other news, Bill is running all around the house yowling shrilly. I was trying to think of a single word for it, and my brain belched out French: tonitruant. It fits. I mean it was LOUD, for him. I wonder if anybody else who has learned multiple languages has this process where they think, "Gee, what's a word for this in my native tongue...woops, that's not my native tongue. But I like it!"

Bill needs to hop off that Id Vortex before he hurts himself. Cats probably live in it 24/7. It's probably why they are so cracked out.

I want to dance. My cousin Taryn had this brilliant idea. She thought that there should be a Coffee Man (akin to the Icecream Man) who would drive around neighborhoods brewing coffee. People could sleepily shuffle up in their pyjamas etc. She punctuated it by adding that he'd be playing 'Sleepwalkin' by Modest Mouse. XD I love her! There should be some random outlet for dancing...needs. (Especially if you are planning on hitting up the Coffee Man.) Like for people who just need to dance at all hours of the day and do not want to a) inconvenience people on the sidewalk and b) do not want to apologize for it. Like you can stop off at some designated dance spot, deposit some spare change, and go dance. You can stroll in with your iPod or dance to whatever they happen to be playing. Of course there would be music themed hours like Jazz Hour or Dubstep Hour or Drone Hour or, dare I say it, Metal or Industrial Hour. And there would need to be an Experimental Electronic Hour or an hour for Songs Beginning with "L" of which I have stumbled upon quite a few recently.
For the life of me, I cannot understand how people can wander around with earbuds or headphones fitted to their ears all the time without at the very least succumbing to toe or finger tapping. Un(?)fortunately, I caught myself beginning to walk and move around a bit to the music, in public. It's like that line in the Japanese film "Shall We Dance?": 'You're the last to know.' :O

Ahhh! I just cannot help myself and having random dancing parlors(???) would help. Or how about dance caf├ęs? Because espresso and brew=truckloads of money and they would need to stay open/survive somehow. There could be Happy Hour(s). This is not just my Id talking here.
star_swan: (Fire)
I have been sick the past couple of days and it may be affecting my head. Coughing, taking extra naps, reading about cranial nerves and interstitial spaces filled with ionic fluid, gawking at Tumblr, reading, writing, day dreaming. Ooh! I saw Mars last night and it was lovely.

But before I launch off, I have to stick something here. So, you know how freaking hilarious it is to read Amazon reviews of books that you have already read, just for the histrionic reactions and the snarking back and forth? Well, this one takes the cake or the, something. I just knew that the more rancorous reviews for this particular slice of freaky literature would be golden, but this person exceeded my expectations. Awhile back I read this novella entitled Exquisite Corpse. Yes, that is the actual title. This was back when I was bored and kept going through various bits of twisted literature trying to find the most depraved piece of writing imaginable, something bleak and weird enough that I would stop in my tracks and feel sated in my bizarre need to vicariously feed off the bent mental wanderings of other human beings who had headed to the dark place in their minds with a vengeance and then proceeded to set up semi-permanent residence. (Something that would make Oscar Wilde go, "Well, fuck, that's strange.") As can be guessed from the title, there's cannibalism involved. It is not simply a metaphor. It's a tad porny as well, just a tad. There is much fellatio et le reste. Here is what one person had to say about it:

"Anyone who has really tasted ejaculate knows that it is not salty--salt would be poisonous to sperm cells. "


lmfao! She's right and, well, is there anything else you can say to that? She gave it one star. I was busting up and could scarcely make it to her other more salient points about the plot (or odd lack thereof in spots).

And this one, so true:

" This book is darkness for darkness' sake, extremely gross and sadistic, and beyond disturbing. Though well written, I thought it was a waste of time and offered nothing but horrific visions and bleakness"


...which is *coughs* what drew me to it in the first place, uhm, before I actually read it that is.
I agree with the second review. It was pretty awful. I skimmed bits because I did not have the stomach for reading graphic depictions of "putrescence" and human rot being sexualized. Euuuurrghhh. Anyone who gets on their eerie religious high horse about charnal houses and people wallowing in sin by appeasing the flesh misses the point of real, human intimacy. It isn't about simply pressing and rutting against tissue compartments and fluid filled layers in order to tweak sensory nerve endings hard enough to spray your cerebrum with ecstatic neurotransmitters.

Our senses are intense, fragile gateways to our experience with the outside world and the only way to touch upon it, to be as close to others as we can whose gazes and affections and comingling of thoughts we crave so desperately is to get as physically close as possible which at times...depending on the blistering intensity of our oft misjudged and completely misunderstood not strictly chemical, but so much more crazily complicated impressions/emotions is still not close enough. No wonder some connections feel a little like drowning or that most people when truly, legitly confronted for the first time in their lives with a love that demands to be acknowledged despite their frantic, intellectual protestations, that tears away at their neat compartments and threatens to knock them on their ass and leave them shuddering all undone like a pile of nerves unraveled from their preciously held bindings, run the hell away in the opposite direction. Love will fuck your shit up! But I like to think that it can be the making of people. Some connections are a little scary, but so so good once you get past that , er, period of adjustment. Everyone is basically in awe of that most carefully navigated emotion. Who wouldn't be. It's heady stuff. It's REAL, no do over, no half-assed, "Well let me think about it..." NO. You don't get to think. You're asked to feel and to own up to it. Then you actually get to revel in it even as it is still tilting your world on its axis. Such delicious pain. :S

Whoa. Anyway. Yeah.

I was reading something earlier that started me on this path to being all wound up. It was a couple of stories, really, though the last one really hit me. People speak of parts and of types, but really, who you fall in love with becomes the only type for you, when you really fall irretrievably, inescapably hard. You see that form and that aspect everywhere and you want it because you want the person inside who it has come to represent so completely...the physical footprint of their being on this earth. You may not even know it, that like a magnet or something else equally as cheesy sounding, the universe is conspiring to draw you in a bit closer, closer, closer still...
This might be why some folks say that they feel that they already know someone even though they have never met or how they just sort of knew even though it was illogical and really the complete knowing only came later in retrospect when they were finally capable of giving words to their initial impressions of that other person.

Hmmmm.

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I was promised tea

April 2017

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about me

I'm a mad translator with a degree in Comp Lit and assorted languages. Writing a novel and studying violin. (The story has been flailing along for the past couple of years. I think that the Scrivener research file is larger than the actual text.)

I live with a rather naughty ginger cat. Is there any other kind?

I love tea, loose leaf teas, teas in sachets, all sorts of teas and COFFEE. The more legally, addictive stimulants, the merrier!

Music and books are my life. I basically live in a closet-sized library with a container garden. I occasionally sleep. <3

ivybellis ------> star_swan

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