Halloween is coming soon.
Up until now, it has easily been one of my favorite holidays. It brings out even more of my out-there childish side. But this year, I can honestly say: I don't care. Perhaps I'm giving in to the people who keep saying that Halloween is for kids and slutbags. I just don't feel like going out and buying or making a costume for a day to play with kids I barely tolerate at a job that's moving toward soul-sucking. And so this year, I have a plan: I will go home and do whatever I feel like. If it happens to be Halloween themed, great. and if not, oh well.
I haven't felt like doing much of anything lately. Let alone read. Perhaps God has a strange sense of humor. During a time when I'd rather sleep my time away, I'm supposed to be reading a book about the power of words.
Wanna know how far I've gotten? 28 pages. Yup. Because that's how awesome I am. Two days in on a 200-something page book and I've just reached page 28. I should have gotten further along in the book, but I just couldn't today.
Something about the content today just...infuriated me. There I was, stuck in a jail-cell of a classroom with a bunch of precious snowflakes who didn't know what to do when someone says "조용히!" (Be quiet!) and I was supposed to be on break, chugging through a book about the power of words and how we breathe life into our words. (HA!) Oh, I had some powerful words I would have LOVED to see come to life, all right. I had more than a few things I would have liked to have breathed some life into. Like a few rounds with a nice resilient whipping switch, for starters...
On a side note: I'm not usually this easily aggravated. I just haven't been having it lately and the whole "I have to pretend to give a crap about Halloween' thing was really weighing on me (among other things). But man...none of it was sinking in then, and it still hasn't now.
I really regret not choosing something darker or more scientific. The optimist in me lost out quite some time ago, and so reading about how "changing your words will change your life" really seems to be an exercise in banging my head on a wall.
It's kind of like this: when you're having a lousy day, you don't want people to say "hey, cheer up, here's some good news!" or "hey...it could be worse", or even better "it's all in how you look at it" (or some variation of the aforementioned) . I don't know about you, but for me, I want to be left alone. If I want someone to cheer me up, I'll let you know. And no, I've never said "hey, I'm feeling bad. Can you help me cheer up?". Know why? BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO BE CHEERED UP, DAMMIT! Sometimes a good hissy fit is all you need to make yourself feel better. But dang, it feels like the book is trying to do the cheering up, without an invitation...
October 29, 2013
October 28, 2013
Reading Rainbow- Day 1
I. Do. Not. Approve.
No, really. I don't.
I wish I'd chosen something else, because it's 11:00 pm on Day One and I've only read about a paragraph of 200 some-odd pages. I tried. I really did. But I've not been in the mood (nor am I now) to read page after page of positive self-help-y type writing when I'd rather go on a punching spree, letting everyone know e-x-a-c-t-l-y how I feel about everything.
It's been one of those days. and it's even more frustrating because if you think about it, it shouldn't be too hard. I'll be 27 in a little over a month, and I'm still having temper tantrums because it's "reading time". I suppose I'll never really come across as an intellectual in that sense. Sitting down for hours and reading just isn't something I enjoy. I don't wanna read! I don't want to hear about how great my life can be and how it's all "just in how you look at things." Saying "It's all in the power of words" really doesn't help me right now. Sure, because of that, I'm probably the exact person this book was written for, but I'm just not up for it right now.
I want to crawl back into my nice dark niche of criminal analysis, Japanese mechs (mechanical warfare *like Transformers and Voltron*) and abnormal psychology. I want to know about the inner workings of the sociopath's mind. I want to know about the fear that grips people in the time leading up to their deaths. YOU can keep the love and sunshine, I'll take the Whiskey on the Rocks and cold hard facts.
But, I am a stubborn one. And so, despite all of this, I WILL read this book from cover to cover by next Sunday night.
*Someone once said I was a mix of Gil Grissom, Horatio Cain and and Spencer Reid...(of CSI Las Vegas, CSI Miami and Criminal Minds) looking at my choice of literature, I'm not quite sure how to take that*
No, really. I don't.
I wish I'd chosen something else, because it's 11:00 pm on Day One and I've only read about a paragraph of 200 some-odd pages. I tried. I really did. But I've not been in the mood (nor am I now) to read page after page of positive self-help-y type writing when I'd rather go on a punching spree, letting everyone know e-x-a-c-t-l-y how I feel about everything.
It's been one of those days. and it's even more frustrating because if you think about it, it shouldn't be too hard. I'll be 27 in a little over a month, and I'm still having temper tantrums because it's "reading time". I suppose I'll never really come across as an intellectual in that sense. Sitting down for hours and reading just isn't something I enjoy. I don't wanna read! I don't want to hear about how great my life can be and how it's all "just in how you look at things." Saying "It's all in the power of words" really doesn't help me right now. Sure, because of that, I'm probably the exact person this book was written for, but I'm just not up for it right now.
I want to crawl back into my nice dark niche of criminal analysis, Japanese mechs (mechanical warfare *like Transformers and Voltron*) and abnormal psychology. I want to know about the inner workings of the sociopath's mind. I want to know about the fear that grips people in the time leading up to their deaths. YOU can keep the love and sunshine, I'll take the Whiskey on the Rocks and cold hard facts.
But, I am a stubborn one. And so, despite all of this, I WILL read this book from cover to cover by next Sunday night.
*Someone once said I was a mix of Gil Grissom, Horatio Cain and and Spencer Reid...(of CSI Las Vegas, CSI Miami and Criminal Minds) looking at my choice of literature, I'm not quite sure how to take that*
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| My favorite book when I was in high school ^^ |
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| I still have this thing somewhere in my house... |
October 27, 2013
Week 10- Reading Rainbow
I didn't forget, and I didn't leave this until the last minute. This was actually quite well planned out. You see, for the past 4+ months, I've been cramming words and grammar and cultural concepts into my poor little brain in preparation for a Korean test. The Test of Proficiency in Korean, to be exact. I have some things that I *think* I want to do, and had to study constantly. I've never studied like that in my life, nor do I ever plan on doing so again.
What do you mean? You should always be learning and studying! Yes, that is true. I am pretty sure, however, that whoever came up with that didn't intend for people to study the way I did. Clinically diagnosed Sleep Deprivation. I was going to the gym at 3am (because a day without a workout is blasphemy, physical exhaustion be damned) and still getting up at 7 to study. It was ugly. Seriously, I fell asleep mid-sentence a few times while teaching...it was that bad. With that in mind, my week 10 is more than acceptable, as far as I'm concerned. ;
Here's the Deal
I'm going to read a book from cover to cover in a week.
Say What?!
I'm going to read a book. But, not just any book. This one has NO pictures, no illustrations and isn't a textbook. I'm weird and like reading textbooks for fun (I'm currently working through Carol Rizzolo's Illuminating the Twilight. It's quite an insight into the psychology of death and dying). Something about a well-written psychology textbook is really interesting.
Also, this is an actual paper book. I love my Kindle and I enjoy the convenience, but there's just something about physically holding a book that makes it much more satisfying. Besides, I'm not known for being graceful. With a paper book, I can toss it across the room, drop it and never have to worry about running out of battery power.
Why?
Why books? Because, silly..."books are your friends".
My current reading list is the strategy guide for Binary Domain, daily positive thought so cheesy they make me want to puke, drink it and puke again, and about 130-some odd Japanese webcomics that update on sadly irregular intervals. Knowledge is power. Based on what I read, I only know how NOT to behave in Japan, after school specials and what to do if a Scraphead is coming at me if I'm down to one health bar and outta ammo. So yeah, based on my reading list, I'm a rather simple person.
This particular book is different, though. Almost all of my books (my Bible, as well) have pictures. This book has no pictures. I'll try to get through it, but make no promises at all. The last time I remember really being into a series, I finished it and then realized that it was written for teenagers (target audience/maturity level FAIL).
I need a POSITIVE distraction, as well. For the past week, I've been blowing up robots and watching SpongeBob, hoping it would keep certain things at bay, but alas, my efforts met with failure. In order to escape some things, a more....proactive approach is required. And yes, I did just admit that I'm running like hell in the opposite direction of more than a few things.
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| My standard type of picture-less book: a psychological analysis of evil... |
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| My book for the week: 200+ pages of positive stuff |
October 8, 2013
Week 9- FINISHED
No. I didn't forget about you. I didn't forget about the blog. Actually, it's been on my mind all week.
I did it. I sat down and wrote letters to people. I took the time with a paper and pen and put the words down.
At first, it was really hard. Considering the things I read and the things I'm capable of, my letter-writing was (and still is) surprisingly immature. What do I mean? This:
I chose only 7 letters to send. I wrote several more, but voted against them. I picked people from my past and my present. There were a few obvious choices, and a few not so obvious ones. I have to say, I was also surprised by the letters themselves. Re-reading them, you would almost think that a different person wrote each one. The mood and language and style are just so....different. They are all painfully immature, but each in their own way.
Letters are conversations. Whether or not they are ongoing or two-way conversations is up to the sender and receiver. With that said, I asked questions that I actually wanted answered. I tried to avoid just rambling and "newslettering".
Among the letters that weren't sent, there was one that stood out. It was a letter to myself. You see, on Sunday, I damn near had a complete and total meltdown in a coffee shop. I couldn't do it. After months of studying and cramming and memorizing and drilling and blah blah blah I just hit a point where I was DONE. There was almost some eyewater, it was so bad. After staring at the same concept for 10 minutes and having nothing make sense, I was ready to call it quits and say 'screw this test' and go get friendly with my well-stocked liquor shelf. But I didn't. I picked up the pen and just started writing. It was a scathing letter or reproach, at least it started out that way.
"How dare you" "pansy" "#*$@*!" "Grow a pair" "suck it up"...Yeah, those were the nicer things in the start. But as I continued writing, the tone changed completely. "Don't quit" "I know it's hard, but..." "it's okay" "you can do it". So it really was a conversation, with myself. Sounds nutso, but it is what it is.
On a much less aggressive level, the same thing happened in the letters I wrote to others. Particularly two of them. They began very cut-and-dry. "Hi. I hope you're well. I'm okay..." But later on it got more sincere. "I miss this." "do you remember that?" It brought back all kinds of things that I hadn't thought of.
So, I suppose in a way, that letter-writing is healing. (If that's the right word). Writing about one good memory gave rise to another and another then another. I could have written pages, but I figured that I should only subject people to small doses of my barely-legible handwriting at a time (seriously, I must be a genius, because my handwriting is crap! hahaha)
I think I might hold on to this one for a while. If for no other reason than that I bought a pad of letter-writing paper and might as well use it for the intended purpose.
I did it. I sat down and wrote letters to people. I took the time with a paper and pen and put the words down.
At first, it was really hard. Considering the things I read and the things I'm capable of, my letter-writing was (and still is) surprisingly immature. What do I mean? This:
It was kind of sad, actually. I speak 3.5 languages (Spanish is the .5, it would take me some time to get back into that). I read psychology textbooks for fun. I enjoy crosswords, Sudoku, Scrabble, Mahjong and several other "intellectual"-type pursuits. But my letter writing would never reflect that...
Dear (name):
Hi! How are you? I'm fine. How have things been going.....
(blah blah blah blah blah)
Take care,
KiteGirl
I chose only 7 letters to send. I wrote several more, but voted against them. I picked people from my past and my present. There were a few obvious choices, and a few not so obvious ones. I have to say, I was also surprised by the letters themselves. Re-reading them, you would almost think that a different person wrote each one. The mood and language and style are just so....different. They are all painfully immature, but each in their own way.
Letters are conversations. Whether or not they are ongoing or two-way conversations is up to the sender and receiver. With that said, I asked questions that I actually wanted answered. I tried to avoid just rambling and "newslettering".
Among the letters that weren't sent, there was one that stood out. It was a letter to myself. You see, on Sunday, I damn near had a complete and total meltdown in a coffee shop. I couldn't do it. After months of studying and cramming and memorizing and drilling and blah blah blah I just hit a point where I was DONE. There was almost some eyewater, it was so bad. After staring at the same concept for 10 minutes and having nothing make sense, I was ready to call it quits and say 'screw this test' and go get friendly with my well-stocked liquor shelf. But I didn't. I picked up the pen and just started writing. It was a scathing letter or reproach, at least it started out that way.
"How dare you" "pansy" "#*$@*!" "Grow a pair" "suck it up"...Yeah, those were the nicer things in the start. But as I continued writing, the tone changed completely. "Don't quit" "I know it's hard, but..." "it's okay" "you can do it". So it really was a conversation, with myself. Sounds nutso, but it is what it is.
On a much less aggressive level, the same thing happened in the letters I wrote to others. Particularly two of them. They began very cut-and-dry. "Hi. I hope you're well. I'm okay..." But later on it got more sincere. "I miss this." "do you remember that?" It brought back all kinds of things that I hadn't thought of.
So, I suppose in a way, that letter-writing is healing. (If that's the right word). Writing about one good memory gave rise to another and another then another. I could have written pages, but I figured that I should only subject people to small doses of my barely-legible handwriting at a time (seriously, I must be a genius, because my handwriting is crap! hahaha)
I think I might hold on to this one for a while. If for no other reason than that I bought a pad of letter-writing paper and might as well use it for the intended purpose.
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