Today, as I was rushing to catch my bus to work, I threw a bunch of strawberries into a ziplock bag and threw that into my bag. Ten minutes later, by the time I was sitting on the bus, they were nothing but mushy red chunks. I ate them right then and there. They stained my hands red.
I'm reading The Count of Monte Cristo. It's an alright so far.
I napped too much today but I'm still a bit sleepy and consistently yawning.
That's all...
- Amlie
Nothing like scrubbing the bathtub to the sound of Regina Spektor to pump me up for the work ahead.
UPDATE:
Sometimes I feel bipolar. It's been... two hours since my spur of motivation. Now I just feel confused and disheveled all over again. Not much makes sense. Am I insane?
I finally finished reading The Golden Compass for my children's literature class. Took me long enough! I'm intent on finishing The House with the Clock in its Walls tonight... because after that I have to read Harry Potter and Prisoner of Azkaban. I know it sounds silly complaining about having to read children's books. Last year I would have hit myself in the head if I heard me complain about this.
Still, after all that I still need to get to my geography readings and subsequent paper done, actually study for the midterm I have for English, and hopefully start on the essay for the essay competition I so thoughtlessly entered last week... an essay competition with a topic that has me frazzled and clueless.
It doesn't help that I have near to no motivation lately. The thought of my break ending on Monday and returning to that dreaded gray building has me a little upset. The winter term just has got me so drained. I'm sure the Canadian weather doesn't help.
Is it weird that the Olympian athletes make me feel inadequate? Haha... I don't know. I watch them and think back to the dreams I used to have. Wanting to become a writer, a journalist, maybe even publishing a book one day. I know I can still accomplish it, but it all feels so far away now. My writing feels so stiff, my mind even more-so.
Still, I love being able to sit in my room all day, surrounded by nothing by books. I like this hermit lifestyle to an almost unhealthy extent. Avoiding potential hangouts with random people this past week is an art I have perfected. I guess I'm just not as social as I used to think I was. Or maybe it's the vacation blues I'm so prone to.
Despite all that, I'm super excited to take the lovely friend who just got back from Halifax out to dinner. I think we might just go to that fancy Persian place I love so much. :)
"People don't want to be like themselves. They all choose a model to imitate, or if they don't choose a model, they accept one ready-made. Yet I believe there are other things to be read in a man. No one dares. No one dares turn the page. The law of imitation - I call it the law of fear. They fear finding themselves alone, so they don't find themselves at all."
My body seems foreign to me. My mind seems almost a separate entity. I watch my fingers typing and for a split second, my bony wrists look like someone else's. Did my arms always look like this?
I lie in bed, reading a novel when I should be reading a textbook. I read to get away from my own relentless thinking. My mind is driving me insane. Even as I close my eyes to dream, all I see is a never-ending collage of memories, mixed in with the sort of nonesense that only the dream world is capable of.
I see a girl, walking through a large marble mansion. Everywhere she turns she sees large empty rooms, rooms that were once filled with people... rooms that she had spent countless nights in as a child. I hear the faint laughter of children. I see them in the background, ghosts of the past, jumping up and down on mattresses, laughing for no reason; laughing for the sake of laughter.
Then the girl runs out of the mansion. She seems overwhelmed. She runs through the empty courtyard, passes the dead circular garden. Now she's standing atop a green field. The scene reminds her of her childhood. It reminds her of a time when she carelessly laid herself down and rolled down those hills... leaving herself at the mercy of gravity. She remembers rolling down those grassy hills, the same hills that stained her clothes green, she remembers the parents that scolded for her it, she remembers.....
And then suddenly, she bursts into tears. I watch her from atop. I watch her like someone watches a movie. I watch her and somehow feel all her grief, feel all her nostalgia, feel all her pain.
That is what I want to escape. That constantly running mind. The constantly running subconscious machine. I just want things to be calm, silent. I just want it to stop.
