2004-07-31
Some Days Bring A Bundle Of Nerves To Your Doorstep
hearing: nothing
reading: Les Miserables by Victor Hugo
wearing: my hair is, again, an utter disaster.
My conscience says one thing. Driven by extremities of fear in every direction.
She whom I shall call my second conscience tells me something entirely different. Apparently motivated by sense, the same faculty I am employing to back up my very arrogant, fear-ridden, terror filled conclusions.
So, whom to listen to? Impulse, guides me to trust only myself. But... I trust her, and the light she throws on things, is much more wholesome and sensible than mine.
I think.
I am terrified of being wrong. I think she's right.
But still, what to do?
No, I shouldn't ask. I know...
I only have left, the doings.
This morning was wretched. Awful. Terrible. Gut wrenching pain which caused me to quiver violently. It sapped me of all strength, and I came extremely close to fainting. I believe, the first time ever in my life. The pain wracked me so, that I was very sick. Although I had little to offer the porcelain god, almost all of my scanty bowl of Rice Krispies having been digested by this time.
And when that was done, I had nothing to do but writhe in agony and sob terribly, whilst my mother applied ice packs to my head and neck to soothe and calm me.
Eventually, I was silent, my mother lay next to me with her arms wrapt about me, and I made endeavors to sleep away my pain.
A couple hours later, I was perfectly fine again.
What was my ailment? I shall put it this way, it is my..."reward" for being a female. I go through this wretched pain one day every month. Why am I plagued by such bitter pain? The amount of times it has assailed me has lessened since the first time, but those first days, which are always the worst, have only increased in the pain they bear upon me.
And that my friends, is why I have an incredibly high pain tolerance. When you go through this sort of agony, the only agony which can reduce me to a sobbing baby, once every month, you kind of get used to it, and every thing else is...paltry compared to it. A bad stomach flu? Absolutely nothing by now. Compared to...that... *shudders*
Then, I rested longer in my chair at my computer, working on...artistic endeavors.
I am so horrible. Everytime I look at this, I want to go shoot myself. I keep holding out hope that all my dolling talent, is a manifestation of an amazing hidden and stifled artistic talent.
But this...this...horribly proportioned...urm... asexual being proves all of that wrong. That monstrosity, was "painted" by use of a "wet media" brush in adobe photoshop elements, my tablet (not my mouse) being the guide.
Everytime I look at that, I scream out in frustration. And then I wonder if I could actually remedy my artwork by taking a few art classes...lessons...whatever...
Or if I'm just hopelessly devoid of all but a few scraps of talent (and those scraps I use to their full force in my dolling)...
Following the ruin of my creative efforts, I ate and read, then...tackled the bear of a job in organizing my things in my new desk.
Yes, my new desk. Since we moved to the house I currently reside in in October, my computer has been on a long narrow table with our other two computers in the "public" half of our basement. Every day since we moved in and set my computer up, my father has been promising to buy me a nice, big desk for my room and to subsequently move my computer into my room.
After months of waiting, the day has finally arrived. My father bought me a desk on Wednesday, it arrived at the store on Friday, my father picked it up that afternoon, brought it home, and immediately set to putting it together. He had it together last night, and had my computer moved and all the wiring set up.
This afternoon, my father bought me a pack of hanging folders for one of the drawers for the add on part of my desk, and I promptly pulled out numerous unpacked boxes, and turned my room into a mess worthy of being called "hurricane damage" (pictures of the mess halfway through are forthcoming).
In a matter of several hours, I had sorted through every item in those boxes, thrown away a whole trash bag full of unwanted crap (I had sooo much junk...) and I had very neatly arranged drawers.
Work isn't finished yet though. I plan on buying a desk set or two to arrange some art supplies (everyone in my family wishfully believes that I harness hoardes of art talent...although most of my "supplies" are colored pencils...in all, I have about 190 colored pencils...), excess pencils and pens (never in my life have I been short on pens or pencils...or paper for that matter... I uncovered huge sheafs of lined, graph, drawing, copier, and copier with holes paper...I'm loaded...) and loose important papers. I also have a small corkboard I would like to hang on my wall, and a small whiteboard (which I need an eraser for) to hang somewhere.
All in all though, it was rather a rewarding afternoon. Organizing and arranging is my forte, although I do tend to be an irritable mass of nerves in the thick of it. Leave me alone in my strange, undetectable pleasure, and I will be perfectly fine. Although, my back is more than a little sore now from sitting on the floor so long.
It would rather be in bed now, than sitting in my (admittedly nice) office chair...