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April 13, 2014: Finally onto April! I'm going to write two entries a day until I completely catch up. I'm about 1,500 words behind on Camp NaNo, mostly because I'm trying to catch up with this, but also because I keep getting distracted on the Internet. And I'm busy with work and some other things. It's so good to be busy. Whoever said "an idle mind is the devil's plaything" was so right. (I just Googled it, and it doesn't appear that the quote was attributed to any one person in particular.) If you're bored, you'll think destructive thoughts.
April 13, 2014: I'm reading a book about the child molestation scandals in the Catholic Church. I suppose it proves that an organization that widespread really does go on power trips and that even a humble leader of the church isn't really willing or able to do much. Still. They should practice what they preach. Sincerely apologize, pay out whatever money they need to, and make changes so that those kinds of men are not allowed to become priests. The entire point of the church is to show people support and healing, not to hurt them. It makes no sense.
April 13, 2014: Last night, there was a concert not far from my house. I could hear the beat of the drums and the voice of the singer (but not the individual words) from my open window. I could not see any lights because the new leaves of the trees were coming in and filling in the gaps in the forest. I heard motorcycles roar down the road and up the hill by my house. I listened to try and figure out what genre of music was playing, and it seemed like beach music. Maybe even Southern rock or country.
April 13, 2014: I haven't seen a TV show in a long time. I sort of banned myself from watching them because I tend to watch the episodes one right after another without paying much attention to how quickly the time is slipping past. Most TV shows turn out to be a waste of time; the perverted jokes and innuendos, the casual sex and drug use, so much exploitation. But there are some good ones out there and some worth letting your kids see. Don't care for the majority of them, though. Family Guy is the only one I watch.
April 14, 2014: Only one Sunday school class left until we "dismiss" for the "summer." We end early because there are very few breaks throughout the year. But I suppose that's all right. I didn't think I wanted to continue to be a catechist, but I'm going to keep going. It's helping me grow in my faith and encouraging me to be a better Christian. If I know that I have kids looking up to me, I will want to do better for their sake. I would hate to look up to someone who pretended to be a Christian.
April 14, 2014: At the office, I try to conserve electricity by not turning on the overhead light. There is no need for it; the office window is big enough. Fortunately, my office mate doesn't seem to mind me not having the light on. My old office mate did; whenever I got up to go to the restroom, I'd come back and find the overhead light on and he wouldn't say anything. But I guess it's all right. It's not like at home where you have to pay the electric bill yourself. But I was just trying to be green!
April 15, 2014: Until the day I die, I will say "party like it's Tax Day, fall like it's Labor Day." It's odd to be the only person in the world who "gets" a particular joke, but then again, some things shouldn't be shared with the world at large. I'm still behind on my blogging and on Camp NaNoWriMo, but hopefully, I get both of those things finished today.
Never mind. I'm back and I got my blog done. Now, onto finishing this short little post and onto NaNoWriMo before something else distracts me. I am easily distracted today.
April 15, 2014: I like looking at deviantART pages. There is so much creativity, so much inspiration to be found. The artists are so dedicated to their work and so willing to share it with the world. The visual arts and writing are both forms of art, but the visual arts are easier to absorb, in a way. You can glance at a picture and see the most important aspects of it, but if you glance at a document full of words, you don't get anything about the true meaning. Some pictures hold many layers of meaning, as do stories.
April 15, 2014: I love the spring because you can see all the green grass outside that makes an ordinary lawn look like the rolling hills of Ireland. I love the sudden thunderstorms that pour down warm rain and raise the scent of earth from the ground. I love being able to walk outside and not have to put on layers and layers of clothing. It's good to have the windows open and the fresh air drifting in. The scents and sight of flowers, the thousands of insects that have arisen from cocoons and hardened casks underground... I love spring.
April 15, 2014: There's this story on the news about a woman who had seven dead babies in her garage, or something like that. Needless to say, it's shameful to have killed so many of your own children... and not even give them a proper burial! Mental illness had to be a factor. Then there was the news of Planned Parenthood's reaction to the murders and cover-up. PP didn't really have a reaction. They didn't admit that it is terrible to kill a baby. It was a strange, emotionless response. That's the trouble with moral relativism, that slippery slope.
April 15, 2014: On with moral relativism. If it's OK to do whatever you like and there are no objective morals, laws, or truths, then that allows for murder, rape, illegal drugs, eugenics, every kind of terrible vice. Once you travel down the path of "if I think it's OK, then it must be true," there's no going back. You gradually begin to think that anything is OK as long as it fits in your "moral code," which is not a moral code of freedom, but a code of slavery that binds you to your own bad decisions. It's confusing.
April 15, 2014: Five years ago today, I was glad it was Tax Day. Nothing today reminded me of then, but I saw a backpack with a Jeep logo. I was upset that it wasn't a Targus logo. Stupid things like that. Seeing an Orbit gum wrapper and being reminded of something that happened in eighth grade. Seeing the number 38 and getting giddy because it reminds me of you, a person who has forgotten me. If I came up to you, you'd have to struggle to remember my name, while a thousand facts about you swim through my head.
April 15, 2014: Back in sixth grade, we had to take keyboarding classes. I remember that most of the kids in my class thought keyboarding was boring, but I enjoyed it, probably because I could type faster than most of them. That's not the case anymore, though. I type about 80-90 words per minute, but my brother can type well over 100. There are people who might even be able to go higher than him, although I don't think I have ever met anyone who can go that fast. Is keyboarding more useful than cursive? I am not sure.
April 15, 2014: My brother bought this controller thingy for his cell phone, so he can play games on his phone like someone else would on a Nintendo DS or other handheld device. I would never want such a thing. If I had to choose a material thing that I wanted... just one... I think I'd pick... a laptop, I guess. Nothing's wrong with my desktop computer, although it would be nice to sit outside and write instead of feeling chained to my desk all the time. I am always afraid a laptop would overheat, though. They seem so delicate.
Now it's raining, and I suppose I'm trying to warm up for Camp NaNoWriMo by writing 100 words. Strange that I've already written twice my word count for NaNoWriMo today, but when I open that particular document, I won't feel like writing a single word. I'll poke around on the Internet, stare at the screen and think about what nonsense to type into the Google search bar next... and just zone out, then wonder why my eyes feel dry and can hardly stay open. I tend to overdo it with the computer, but I think most people do these days.
The hormones are back. It seems like there's only 1 month per week when they're not bothering me and turning me into either a sex-crazed maniac or an angry psychotic bitch. It helps to remember that the mood swings are caused by hormones, but it doesn't lessen the annoyance or the feeling of horniness or any of that. It's good for knowing where you are in the cycle, but it's just one of those inevitabilities that you can't escape. Well, unless you get sterilized or go on birth control and I have no intention of that. Suffer in silence.
I want a simple life. I don't want anything complicated or too materialistic to take my mind away from the things that matter most. It would be good if I could get along in the world without expecting greatness or trying to achieve something that would make me forget that I am a mere human. It helps to not expect anything, to not want anything beyond what you know you are guaranteed to get, which is not very many things at all. You are not guaranteed tomorrow or even the next five minutes. And it's hard to remember that sometimes.
As one of my old coworkers would say, "It's Good Friday." It really is Good Friday, but it doesn't feel like it because I'm at work. Even my office mate got in early because the traffic has been very light. I hope it's still light when we leave in the afternoon. Depending on how busy work gets, I'm going to try and make the Good Friday service this evening. And of course, the Easter Mass. Even the people who never go to church throughout the year go to the Easter Mass. I'm hoping that work doesn't prevent me from going.
I keep having these same kinds of dreams where I go back to him and realize it was all a terrible mistake and that I have to repeat history again. I get such a bad sense of dread that upon waking, I'm so glad that the dream wasn't real. He had tattoos all over his face in the dream. Tattoos of song lyrics. I thought that nobody would hire him and I was going to have to support him and his tobacco chewing habit, and then I wondered whether he still chewed tobacco. He was hanging out with another girl.
I love when Easter falls on April 20. Today is special to me, although it probably shouldn't be anymore. Most people consider April 20 to be a "bad" date, probably because of Hitler's birthday, Columbine, National Weed Day, and whatever else. I did not know about any of those things when I designated April 20 as a special day. I was only a child then, 11 years old and relatively innocent. To be honest, I think 11 was my last innocent age. All the ones after that signified a gradual and inevitable loss of innocence. Anyway... Happy Easter to all!
Whoa, perfectionism! I thought I was a perfectionist until I started to work with authors who have conniptions over hairline spaces and teeny tiny errors that aren't really errors at all but mere matters of preference. I guess the difference between perfectionism and a sense of doing your best is when you know to let the little things go. Sometimes it's not feasible to fix errors that even the most stringent reviewer will probably overlook. Yes, perfectionism is admirable, but it can lead to many migraines, wasted time, anxiety, and stomach ulcers, which I would rather avoid at all costs.
I got this song by Zendaya stuck in my head. What's hilarious is that I have never heard of Zendaya before she went on the radio, then I realized that she is the star of this show called Shake It Up. I don't know what it is with these teenybopper Disney and Nickelodeon stars... they have their TV show, then they go off into a land of singing and dancing and eventually turn into Miley Cyrus (the majority of them do, anyway). I'm not an advocate of these shows. Preteen arrogance and silly antics shouldn't be replicated by little kids.
I saw a comic about days when your hair is perfect, your clothes are unwrinkled and when you go out to the store, you don't see a single person you know. But when you look like crap and you've got zits and your hair is greasy and your clothes are cruddy, that's when you'll run into every person you know. It happens to me when I forget to put on deodorant, then I think that if someone wanted to come up and give me a hug, they'd smell me and think I was a slob who never bathed.
One of my blog friends wrote a post about memory, and how it's so easy to remember useless information like names of fictional characters, song lyrics (even when you haven't heard the song in 20-something years), and minor details of TV shows and movies. But you can't remember the important things, like stuff you have to study for school or stuff you ought to remember for work (like all the many acronyms of the divisions in your company that change every new fiscal year). And you always remember ex-boyfriends, archenemies, and other people you would much rather forget.
Ugh. I am about burnt out. I get the terrible feeling that I am not doing a good job on anything, and it would be more productive for me to just stay home and sleep for a while or at least to sit in my room and think about what I've done.
In other news, I won Camp NaNoWriMo. I think that was the smallest word count goal I've ever given myself, simply to prevent myself from feeling undue stress. The goal was 15,000, so I wrote about 500 words a day, 1,000 words on some weekends.
I watched Behemoth's music video for "Blow Your Trumpets Gabriel" from their album The Satanist. When Gabriel blows his trumpet, God is supposed to return to Earth. It seemed to me that the video was about a corruption of the Church and a corruption of the whole "God coming to earth" thing. I hate metal music for that reason. You are hardly being shocking when you debase Christian imagery in that way, especially when you're from mostly secular Europe. It's a cheap shot. These people wonder why they can't find God... maybe they need to look outside of themselves first.
I had a brilliant idea last night when I was dreaming, and I even dreamed that I wrote the idea down. Of course, when I woke, the idea seemed silly and probably taken from a mess of book and movie plots that coagulated somewhere in my head. Then again, there were some elements of the dream that could be useful for my story, which I am desperately trying to get to the bottom of. I shouldn't say "stories" -- it's actually a series. And I shouldn't say "desperate" because I'm trying to enjoy the process and not rush my way through.
Sometimes I'm not sure that I'm really in control of my life or that I'm really doing what I want. I do what society and my parents have told me is the correct thing to do. I've walked in the path that everyone else defines as the "good path" or the "right path." I don't think I know what I want because all of my wants are subjugated by what everyone else thinks is right for me. The only thing that I know is 100% all mine is writing. That is my greatest want, so strong it's practically a need.
I haven't watched the news or even looked at CNN or my local news site since February. Why? Because every time I see the news, I get depressed. There's always some political crap going on, Republicans and Democrats hating each other, a tragedy going on in a third-world country, wars, hunger, natural disasters, school shootings, parents abusing children... and I'm tired of it. I don't need to see the news to imagine the horrors that exist in the world. It's tough and callous and nobody cares except the people in the comment sections, and they only complain and troll.
I am too immature. Sometimes I feel like flinging myself down on the floor at work and throwing a tantrum like a little kid who's had too much sugar. Sometimes, I feel as though I have so much contempt and hatred for my fellow humans who are doing nothing more than the same thing I'm doing: trying to get through life with as few casualties as possible. It's so frustrating, though... and then I have the nerve to say that I want someone to be with. I don't even have the patience to stand myself sometimes, let alone someone else.
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