Inspiration attacks.

There are people—I know them, they live two floors beneath me—who picture their world as what they create.  Get lost in some sort of media, they say.  It’ll make the world bearable.  Then I know these other people; they say the world is something to adapt to.  Get used to it, because you’ll probably never know much better than what you’ve got.

Me, I’m a different breed, I guess.  I didn’t know that it was so rare, but I want this world to be something I want.

When I say that, I’m not talking about something that didn’t exist before I made it up.  My mind is not the world.  I don’t think the world is all that bad, either, or there’d be no one who travels, or does anything interesting.  I hear about interesting things all the time.  I’m talking about experiencing.  I’m talking about living, really living, by getting out there and finding the good.  I don’t care if it takes a lifetime of searching, because there’s no point in finding it all anyway—I want to leave some for others to discover, though it’s true that every discovery is honestly your own, if you found it.

For myself, I want to see the world, and get whatever I can out of it.  I want to touch the corners of the earth and find them dull and shredded like the corners of a well-worn book.  My world will be treasured, and its pages will be full of life.

That’s my reason for everything, really.  What I’m not looking for is a purpose, it’s a procedure.  A means to no necessary end.  I do because I want to find out what happens when I do.  I want to know where the places I go can lead me.  I want to see what doors open behind the windows, the skylights, the peepholes, under the magnifying glass.  They’re there, not always easy to find, and not always easy to open.  Sometimes the key is with someone else.  Sometimes the key is somewhere too obvious, like every time I’ve lost my school ID only to find it on my chair, or on my desk, or even worse, where it’s supposed to be, hanging in its holder.

But the point is, it’s always there, and it requires less than reason to want it.  Curiosity isn’t always reasonable.  An eager search for the unknown isn’t logical, but it’s what makes the world something to be in.

Throwing the Pen at the Book.

Inspiration gone.
Hand lifeless, cold.

Does this mean anything to you?
I’ve lost all substance, all meaning and feeling.  What I say doesn’t evoke, and the deaf ears are mine.  Deaf ears, blind eyes, lame hand.  There’s nothing functional.  I’m all show with nothing to show for it.

Why am I like this?  Have I not lived enough?  That’s what I used to blame it on, x number of naive years ago.  You could only write about what you know.  I don’t know.

But maybe it’s not knowledge.  I–at this point it wouldn’t matter if I read a library and knew plot and diction and detail like the back of my heart.  (Maybe that’s my problem?)  Writing is something you’re given.  I’m starting to believe that, after all these years of being told I had it, it never even touched my hands.  My limp, cold hands.

I just want to break down, a little.  I won’t, but I wouldn’t mind.

I want to write.  I swear, that’s all I want to do.  This is so impossible.

And the world spins madly on.

Maybe I’ve written good things in the past.  Maybe even the past week.  But it’s always bits and pieces.  Beginning and end.  The middle is the literary equivalent of tossed salad.  Why am I so frustrated with this right now?

Mata ashita.

Our Sympathies.

We regret to inform you that the author of this blog has died.

She has been crushed.  By mathematics.

It is likely that her last memory was one of horror, of a statistics book the size of Australia suspended momentarily in the air above her.

The last words she spoke were, “I’m going to [bleep] kill this book.”  How ironic.

By the way, there’ll hopefully be readable stuff up here sometime soon.  Hold on.  I sure feel like letting go.  Sigh.
Mata ashita?

Batter’s up.

To play Soy Sauce Baseball, you will need:

2 people
10-20 packets of soy sauce and/or duck sauce
1 ballet flat, or other shoe of choice, preferably flat
A cumulative year of dorm life or more, or other type of insanity.  (Alcohol allowable as a replacement)

How to play Soy Sauce Baseball:
Position the players at least 3 feet from each other (with proximity comes injury, be careful).  One player, the “pitcher” should have the packets of soy sauce.  The other player will stand in batting stance, holding the shoe as a bat.  Players should agree on a goal to aim the soy sauce for, though it is perfectly permissable for the batter to take over and simply aim for the pitcher.  The rest of the rules of baseball apply, as desired.

Should a packet explode on the carpet, wet a rag.  Do not rub, blot.

Have fun!

Oh God, I’m posting way too much.

But this is…well, I’m excited, and I’ve been posting about it…

Hmm.  Let’s put it this way.

Nothing like opening an email with the word “Congratulations” in the subject.

Or this way:

Who’s da exchange student?

Or this way:

Yeeaaaaah.

All work pretty well.

^_^

Mata ashita!

Must…caffeine…

It turns out I’m not my best on 5 hours of sleep, once I’ve conditioned myself to 8. (I’ve also conditioned myself to fall asleep at a song, which is pretty cool. Unfortunate if I want to listen to it at any other time…which I suppose is going to be detrimental if I want to play Kingdom Hearts II. It’s Passion by Utada Hikaru. Oh well, the PS2 is safely tucked away at home. For now. These are the longest parenthesis ever. I’m thinking about letting them go just for the hell of it.) I took a nap before class, scheduled for 15 minutes, lasting 30, and woke up some 5 minutes before class.

Getting up from that nap was one of the worst experiences of my life. I was shaking like I was in withdrawal, and couldn’t get my eyes to focus or yank my floating head back down on my shoulders. The stairs were fun. I stumbled into class and wrapped my coat around me, and only have a fuzzy mental image of how I must have looked (well, everything was fuzzy).

My teacher, I’m sure, must believe me to be on drugs. Especially as this was following the, “You marked me as in class, but I swear on my life I don’t remember being there. You sure I’m not crazy? I need to lie down.” Oh yeah. Classy, very classy. And for the record, I wasn’t the one with the hallucinations–I was not in class. But what does that say about me, that everyone else was sure of my presence?

The moral of the story: Would this happened with coffee? I think not.

Forgot again,

Mata ashita.

A little pinch of crazy dust and multiple references.

I accidentally said “prerogative” instead of “initative” in my Rotary interview today.

I think the best part is I didn’t realize it until my mother pointed it out to me when I was trying to explain my answer to a question.  That sentence sucked.  The point of this?  I was more nervous than I thought.

Overall, the whole thing went alright though.  I liked the people there, and they made me feel good about myself and complimented me.  I like being told that there should be more people like me.  That’s a-ok, really.  But I’ll refrain from saying too much lest I tempt the wrath of the whatever from high atop the thing, and should have to go outside and turn three times and spit, where I’m sure the spit will have frozen.  See, that sentence kind of sucks, but is redeemed, because it’s West Wing Sorkin.

A few more days and I’ll know for sure.  Wish me luck or something.

Oh, and the number 42 was the answer on a test I took.  I believed I should stop right there.  I’d answered.

I’ve been forgetting to say

Mata ashita.

Would you like a delicious Mintimacy?

Apparently my site can be found by searching, “A word starting with M for friendship.” Hence the post title.

Seriously, I can’t think of one. The best I’ve got is “matrimony,” and…we’ll not get started on that one.

Mating
Motherly
Miserly
Macrame

Aaand I’m completely off target. Sure.

20 invisible bucks (or Monopoly money, two words which coincidentally start with “m”) for the first person to figure out an “M” word for friendship.

…Okay, scratch that.  If you’d been in my dorm room for the past half-hour, you’d know that a word starting with M that means friendship simply does not exist, and that this has now become a contest for “best/worst sounding word that starts with M that may or may not imply friendship.”  So, Monopoly money offer stands (if only for the cool M alliteration), but now, funniest sounding word wins.

Nippon ni ikimasu…

Hopefully.

(By the way.  Anyone with further information on Rotary International exchange program–such as likelyhood to go to a first choice country, or what placement depends on, or things they don’t tell you on the website-please, please, comment.  Thanks!) 

See, people here answer emails, and I’m hoping check and return messages, much better than up near home.   At this point, I need to get myself in an interview and get myself into candidacy.  I’m pretty confident in my ability to make it through the interview, though still nervous.  But…well, see the above.  That’s what I’m really shaky about.   That and ten months away from home.

…I’m just glad that I’m not too tied down to here.  Other than family and friends, who I can keep (and miss) while I’m gone, I don’t have anything stopping me from…anything.  My life is mine, and I haven’t felt more free to live it.  You know?  It’s good.  And I’ll come back eventually.  My biggest fear is someone being gone when I do return.  Why do I think about such things?

Dance On

 

This isn’t real, even if there’s any way to prove it.
I can’t feel anything but light.
My voice is ringing out instead of falling out,

Falling away.

My mind is wandering at the speed of time
Instead of the speed of sound.

…You’ll bring me down to earth, right?
I need to go back to the laws of physics,
Where my heart wasn’t free to skip a beat.
Gravity can’t just have left,
I didn’t put springs in my shoes,
Or my heart on my sleeve.

 

I live a practical life

Full of practical dreams

And practical tasks.

(And I can’t even remember what those were)

 

I can be a happy ending,
I think, if I try hard enough–
Maybe we’ll keep this cloud, you and I, for ourselves,
And let physics find a better partner…
Maybe, yes.
Just now, one more dance.

 

 

^_^