Wednesday, May 9, 2012

checking in once more

I should really, really, really, really be sleeping right now. And I should really not be straightening my hair and painting my nails glitter pink instead of finishing my homework. And I should really not be using electronic devices next to my bathroom sink.

I should also really, really, really be getting a job.

I'm on it, I swear.

Anyway, there's a few thoughts I want to jot before I continue my strange nocturnal crusade.

I have really big dreams. But I wouldn't call them "dreams" as much as magnetic needs to achieve certain goals. Really, I have no choice in the matter. I need my dreams like my stomach needs food. It's just another natural chemical reaction.

Be right back, I'm going to make a mud mask. I really, really shouldn't be doing that.

And I'm back, looking like an odd female euphemism of Bear Grylls. Sweet, can't wait to look like the sexiest zombie alive (dead? hah) tomorrow morning.

Okay, back to dreams. I'm a super driven person, and I question everything I see. I strive for answers, and I strive to be a creator. I strive to be an illuminator and a helper.

Case-in-point: in college, I hope that I will have the resources and the skills to begin to answer some of the questions that safely inhabit my mind. I've noticed that depending on which means of writing I choose, my writing, style, and thoughts are different. Blogger is different from Tumblr, and my school notebook is different from my journal, and a hotel napkin is different from my hand. As means of writing changed throughout the ages and through technological innovation, has it shaped writing style and thoughts? Much like  "newspeak" affected peoples' thoughts in Orwell's 1984, does the means of writing itself shape our thought process? How does audience (as with websites blogs, public areas) play a part? I hope to do a psychological study on this one day in college.

This is all I can manage now without falling asleep with my oh-so-attractive earth clay mask cemented to my face. Goodnight world. Eagerly awaiting everything, struggling to savor everything.

checking in

Doing a project about Rastafari (it's not an -isim, mind you) shirtless at 3AM, listening to Strangeland and sipping my now lukewarm jasmine oolong. It's a strange but quite nice place to be. Microcosmic.