Friday, November 20, 2009

The Many Goings-on

As of the past few days, or even longer (as... in a way... it's taken all these years I've been this way), I think I am coming 'to terms' with what is causing this. It is a happifying thing to know that. I also got my biology report done in one sitting, in one day, on Monday or Tuesday. I was ... really stunned. Very glad. Ridiculously.

Even though I don't particularly feel it, the way I 'felt' that pays for all of it. It's proof I'm getting better... and it makes me happy. Even when something sad happens... if I have a response to it, it... it's not bad, it's wonderful- I'm not numb, I'm not just not seeing it, I'm having a slight response to it, at least, and it's joyous. Anyway, once I get my head back, I will be able to put my sorrows on God again, and it will all be well. It won't matter. And I'll still be glad that I can feel sorrow.

So... I'm sure I'm getting better. And I'm also sure that it has to do with my surroundings and so on- I know it does. I'm glad that I know that... I'm not going to let myself bewail it for the rest of my life. It is better, even if in a way it is sad, than not being able to tell at all, and only being able to feel miserable in a numb, stupid, most gruelling way.

Even if now I know how much I am a slave to working, and I sort of made my own slavery (though before, it was a wonderful thing, it now has become something... really bad, as it has not been balanced with knowing God can take care of sorrows, and I can just help people bear through them)... and the odd dilemma is that I am unwilling to stop going on, even though I am already crushed... I won't stop doing it. I'm so used to doing it, and I meant to do it from the very moment I began to mature, I think. Even before that I wanted to bear sorrows for people, so, therefore, I would say it's my character.

So, the dilemma is, I am unwilling to stop, but I am not willing to keep on doing it. Why is odd, I suppose, to you all. I am stubborn. If I start doing something with a great meaning to really do it, I won't stop until I'm done unless someone makes me. And all this time, nobody's made me. In a way I'm willing to keep going on, but in a way not- I love to help people, but now, I just can't do it anymore because I'm so crushed that I myself need help, and without help, I won't be able to keep on doing this- but I'm unwilling to stop helping others, to stop trying. And I am unwilling to give up. I also can't really. People still expect me to do things, to conform to what they want, to keep on getting more discontent from it, and I cannot stop when they want it.... I am also held in the reins of the people around me. I won't stop trying to serve them, whether they notice what I'm doing or not (the majority of the time, they don't, really)... and I am not living in my own home, and my own home isn't really a home to me. I'm miserable in it. Discontent. I can't live to do what I wish to do- all I do here, half-willingly and half-unwillingly, is serving others, making sure that they have what they want. When they complain, I feel compelled to go and make it better for them.

And... sometimes I'm told I have to. But I can't really do it anymore. I need to stop and to rest and to simply give up and let myself be crushed, and then God can take the burden and help me up, or help me to someplace where I can just lie down and sleep for a decade and recuperate all the strength that was completely drained from me in more than two years of uselessly trying to make ANYBODY BUT ME be happy, content and not miserable.

And making ungrateful people 'happy' doesn't work- it won't give me any satisfaction now because they keep wanting more. They're hungry for more of my constant saying, 'Okay, I'll try,' or doing the thing without saying. I can tell when my siblings want me not to do something. There are some things I don't do still because I just don't have the time to find out what I'll do to somehow squeeze out of their way... and I say in my mind, 'LIVE WITH IT.' I don't say it to them. I don't want to make them sad. And I don't really feel that way. I still want to make them happy for the endless rest of their lives with me.

Three years. Maybe.... until I can leave this house. Three years of what I see as slavery. Slavery in a home which I don't see as mine, slavery in a city where I can never run about and be *alone*... this city is stuffed with houses, people, and no friends except people at church and at co-ops whom I hardly know anyway, and whom I can't come to know now because I will be forcing the relationship, not letting it chug along by itself.

I want to be with friends, with people who will appreciate me, and really truly know what I'm doing, and what I want to do. This home really tires me to no end. To no visible end- I keep on going even though I do believe I am already crushed.

:/ I know there's more to it than that, but one long post of this will do... farewell!

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

'That Happy, Festive Season'

I was just thinking of November so. The month you sit down somewhere to write fifty-thousand (or more) words in a month.

I have been writing 'this much' since before- I was pelting down Nostalgia, as you know (if you've read previous posts and have been haunted by my conversation for awhile), and got many, many words. My goal back then had been to get fifty-thousand before NaNo, and I did that quite a lot before NaNo (by a week, maybe?), so I got a lot more before NaNo.

I am lunging well up to one-hundred-thousand now. I am currently at a happy 87,914.

And that 'festive' feeling, probably 'writerly' feeling, has come upon me! This writing much and the fact that I actually think I'm writing 'something' and that I am really getting practise out of this for writing books later makes me feel very accomplished. It makes me feel like I am a writer.

It also makes me feel that someday I will be blessed by God to do what He wishes me to... whatever it is, I think it will be glorious, and I might have an idea of what it is. An idea, though.

At any rate- that is much of what I have to say. I like how I am feeling now. It is an accomplished feeling, and an accomplishing feeling... like I will come with my stubborn sword and conquer that which I wish to do and think it would be good to do. I have many things I want to do- I'd like to give myself a more efficient and colourful wardrobe. Not a silly wardrobe of today. Something that will likely also inspire me to write nice things. Likely many people will ask me questions and stare at me for wearing bright, long dresses and things, but I'd rather be questioned and stared at than not do it... who cares what the world things? And wouldn't it be lovely if everyone wore nice, modest, colourful clothing? Batiks and calicos and tartans? And what about historically-'inspired' clothing?

I'm not sure anybody will get what I mean by 'historically-"inspired"'... I mean something not so much like Goth styles or whatever, but more like clothing that is made with techniques and constructions which people used in the centuries previous to now. I am interested in many ancient ones, all the way through to around 1950. I am not particularly fond of anything after that, really.

One thing I've recently liked is the idea of mediaeval-based clothing. Not a lot of people know what mediaeval clothing was really constructed like, and I'm not sure how they *did* it, but I think that I can use the 'basic idea' to make something nice for myself.

I never really 'liked' clothing... I don't have a huge wardrobe, and I'm not crazy about finding all kinds of things to add to mine. I just want to have what does the job, although hardly any modern clothes do all I wish they did, and that is JUST why I want to make my own. I really, really dislike how people have come to make clothing... not just in how they look, but how they feel, and in how they are to be worn. It isn't common sense to make them how they are made. And so, I think I'll just have to start over from scratch, and from what has been made in the past, and make up my own clothing all alone. :)

So, someday I might have something to show you all... and as I get better at putting things together in a timely fashion, I'll feel accomplished in the station of making garments, like writing... and I'll also work on translating and reading, and I can translate things for peoples' birthdays. I don't know who would appreciate that, but I know whom I know might.

This post might be summarised as a little piece of my mind. I suppose I should write more of this, and I will get almost daily posts out with something worthwhile in each.

One thing interesting about me- everything in my mind tends to be somehow related, and that is one reason why I go off on tangents in posts, because somehow things have to do with each other. Even if I don't seem to be showing a relation, there are some... but that makes sense- everything is related because it is in a world God created, and the things God created all are so heavily intertwined that ... it could only be that way, couldn't it? And there's so much to learn, too... which is the reason I spend so much time thinking, and now so much time pelting words down in Nostalgia. ^.^

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

^.^

I can't think up witty post titles, but that isn't surprising because, each time I post, I'm not really writing about anything in particular.

Currently, I'm fighting my schoolwork, or trying. Rather like how a little mouse might fight a rat... I'm not sure. I'm really into mice right now, because they're tiny and cute and keep dying in our house (I feel sorry for them).

I keep thinking how I wish I could buy all these different kinds of folk harps. There are lots that sound nice, but they all cost a significant amount of money and I know I'm not going to try to buy them all when I'm older, because... I must settle with only a few, and make sure the purchases make sense. I mean, when I'm older (have a little bit of money, I mean) and know how to play folk-harp better, I will likely try to get a big, many-stringed Dusty Strings harp. I may also try to find a lap-harp for different things- they're much lighter and more carry-around-able, and will be suitable for different things. Besides, I'm sure they're fun to play. I hope that when I run off to Hobgoblin Music again, I can find out what it's like to play one, now that I can actually play legitimately, sort of. I can't really- I haven't gotten lessons, but I think I'm doing it right. ^.^^^

NaNoWriMo is happening. I'm not sure... should I really try to do it? Will I be a rebel and just write Nostalgia, and possibly not even really do it? I think I'm probably going to end up not being able to. Mum doesn't want me to because she thinks it's what's making me stay up late at night, but it's a combination of Nostalgia, schoolwork and lonesomeness that does it. Late at night I get really depressed and lonely because I feel like I really have lost communication with my friends (the internet turns off late/earlyish... I'm so used to late hours that it seems early- ten o'clock).

I haven't tried to tell her yet, because it's so hard to formulate answers and questions and things to say. Especially orally, but even on the computer. Each day I lose my sense of discerning things 'mechanically' more, and I feel like I'm slipping farther and farther away.

But, along with that, I think I'm getting better... I seem to be recollecting little things from my 'past' more and more, and vaguely getting the idea that hope might exist and I might be able to track it down and capture it.

Nostalgia has, as of late, trotted on quite quickly. I think I said how I beated Andre, or was trying to, earlier- well, I did it, with flying colours. It was easy. He was only writing five-hundred words, and I was writing from two-thousand to four-thousand per day, sometimes a little less, though, depending. It gets harder to write Nostalgia every day when your thoughts are exactly the same as yesterday, or very much the same- you haven't got anything new to say.

I want my thoughts to flow rightly again. They kind of flit past my mind's eye, and dissolve. I can't hold on to them and elaborate on them in real thinker thought... they leave me. It's miserable. But... it's life. I always say it's life. I don't have any real sympathy for myself. I don't care much about myself, in fact, I'm angry at myself (irrationally), and I get weighed down by the sorrows of my friends and the world, and think that the world is made up of grief. It seems normal because I've gotten so used to this state I'm in, but it is not, and I need to make sure of that so that I can begin to know I need hope, and to have it.

That's the basic idea. Very general. It's all too complicated. That's why I can say I'm both getting worse and better- I'm losing grip every day more and more, but also, I'm gaining grip in another way. I'm remembering a few things once in awhile, in a vague, dissolving way, but I AM doing it, and that's good...

I hope I can somehow get better. But that might include quitting Creative Writing and Biology (my two real-life classes at a homeschool co-op). I don't want to. I have to learn Biology, and I like both classes. But I can't really keep up with the work, even though I always somehow get it done (after the last minute... *cough*). It's coping. It feels like I'm being defeated by this Cope-Monster which wants to make sure I get everything done 'somehow', without really doing it with my own nature and character, so that I can never say that I really, really can't do it. I always feel dishonest if I do. But I think it's true, so I timidly say it. People still know what I mean. At least, they say they do. I'm not sure if I believe anything (oh, well, I don't)... but I THINK it's so. I WANT it to be so.

And I REALLY hope I can get better. I don't like being this way. I think too little of myself and I'm too hard on myself and it hurts, and it's all complicated in a lot of ways. >.>

Tally-ho. Maybe I'll post soon again. I should post regularly...