A glimmering of thought

As much as I enjoy writing in my journal by hand at night, and though everyone is going small with phones and pads, there yet remains something to be said for the speed and efficacy of a good keyboard, be it on a laptop or desktop. My keyboard may not be the best quality on this laptop, but it is not cramped, and I can write ever so much faster here, as well as edit mistakes. It's much easier to write nearer to the speed at which I think, certainly. I've been hand writing for well over a decade now, but I still don't do so swiftly. I have write as I always have, small, and fairly precise. I always dreaded timed essays in school for that reason. I never could put enough down in the time allotted. Well, that, and I simply hate all essays with a fiery passion. But a good laptop, writing whatever I feel like writing? Terrific.

To be fair, the slower speed of writing by hand does allow my thoughts to coalesce a bit more into something slightly more coherent, though still a bit in the vein of stream of consciousness. I hate writing on phones. They are so imprecise and it's inevitable to make many mistakes, which then take a bit of time to correct. I've always been a stickler for presenting my thoughts and words as I intend them even in texts and messaging. For that reason, I tend to turn off even auto capitalizing and auto word correction on my phone. I want to emphasize what I want to emphasize, and structure my sentence as I want, in order to aptly convey my meaning, particularly when it comes to nuances. Also, most emojis are stupid. A few are useful, but if you have to use them to make yourself properly understood, then you need to learn how to better write. Using them as nuance in a statement, or to punctuate a feeling is a great idea, but otherwise, do we really need to return to hieroglyphics? Also, it's a bit difficult to translate into speech... Not going to go on a rant.

I'm all for brevity of thought and speech, but only if it aptly and truly conveys the entirety of the thought. Words, properly harnessed, can paint the most vivid of pictures all their own, and uses the reader's imagination to fit it all together. Man, now I want to go reread so many books. Also, I return to the thought of how much longer writing by hand takes. Looking at even this amount thus far that I have, it sure would have taken a long-ass time (long ass-time, as xkcd would say) to do by hand. I've slowly worked at, and improved upon, my cursive skills, which were practically non-existent all throughout school, but it is neither very fast, nor nearly as compact as my normal, so I don't often do so. I can barely imagine the days, only a few decades gone, when all children wrote cursive, and all essays and assignments were by hand. I hate essays as it is, and I only ever wrote them once, spell checked them, then turned them in. I wouldn't fancy having to rewrite them numerous times. Though t'would be cool to have a practiced hand at cursive. I slaver over calligraphy done well.

And now my brain is empty. Bed time.

I hung out with a bunch of girls after church this evening. All the usual guys were out, to my fortune. Sort of. Girls tend to talk over you if you don't put yourself out there well enough. At least, these ones do. I've the feeling I'd be more included if I were better friends with them. Regardless, it was very interesting hearing them speak, as the topics almost all included enneagram numbers. Having only vaguely heard of enneagram, it was very bizarre. They're all like, "I'm a 2, but I can build up to 8 energy. And he's a 3 wing 4 with a..." The shorthand for explaining to others one's personality or how others interact was interesting and all, but I was struck by how similar it was listening to non-christians all talking and bringing star signs into the mix.

I hold zero regard for the utter retarded nature of star signs and horoscopes, so it was mildly unnerving to experience the exact same behavior among all these Christian girls. To be fair, I do appreciate the shorthand nature of it, to be able to quickly convey complex ideas simply. However, I did go and look into it all after; took a test and boned up on the descriptions and all that. What I discovered is how completely not helpful it is for me. Given the right situation, anyone can fit into any of the categories. I could very easily see myself fitting in all but one of the categories, and my results were equally across the board. I had two of the exact same amount, in completely unrelated areas, and then most the others were fairly close together too. One has to basically be a one dimensional character to really have the enneagram be of much use.

Honestly, I find the Meyers-Briggs type of characterization to be much more accurate, though even in that I am almost exactly balanced in one of my categories (S/N for those wondering). I wonder at times if it isn't because I've been tempered in my life in such ways as to be very unique, and even I'm not certain how I truly am in some situations. Do you know how odd it is to be both mathematically minded and artistically creative at the same time? To feel some emotions deeply, yet at times to be completely unfazed by the craziest of situations? The one time I tried to join eharmony, I was in the 20% of people who are not classifiable, according to the rejection they sent me after filling out all their questionnaires. Not a great feeling, being too unique for them to even try to connect me with other people.

I've long realized how unique my path through life has been. I am a subset of a subset, a Christian nerd. I love order and rules, but also spontaneous creativity and playfulness. I want orderly chaos.

Yesterday was...interesting. After the crapfest that was Saturday, I just slept a lot, then got up and went to church for the evening service, as I am want to do. I think I ended up crying at least 4 times that evening, and felt like doing so several more times. I don't often cry, but when I do it usually ends up being rather cathartic, but last night didn't feel nearly as great afterwards. Mostly I just felt drained. It's an odd feeling to realize that hurts in your life that you thought you'd dealt with and long ago put behind you is anything but. I heard my inner voice last night, and it was wailing in pain. I've yet to meet anyone who doesn't have past hurts and wounds, but yikes, I thought I was doing better than I perhaps really am. There is some catharsis now, knowing more, and that there is more that needs healing, but it is...difficult to think about having to reach out and take hold of that pain. I brush against it, and I'm an emotional wreck; I don't fancy opening the arms wide and taking it all in at once.

I have pushed down, even repressed at times, my hurts and anger and don't always know how to properly deal with them, particularly when I thought I already did. My dad had a lot of anger in him, always boiling beneath the surface, and though he never knowingly or physically took it out on us, I still internalized a fear of anger, even in myself. I was told many, many times as a child that I was very mature for my age, in part because I often thought of the repercussions of actions. Before I ever hit my teens, I started to see a temper in myself, and I feared what I would do if I lost control. Part of being smart is that you can think of a lot of really creative things, bad as well as good. I saw that desire to hurt, to make someone (usually my brother, who was always an extremely frustrating child) pay whenever I got angry, and I was terrified of getting so angry that I would do something I could never undo. In his teens my brother also had a temper at times, and as he was a hands-on type of person, I feared him. It's funny in retrospect, because he really never did much, but I never really let him either. I remember him getting pissed about something and chasing me to my room where he would pound on my door, or threaten to do something to something I cared about. I never gave him the chance to do anything, and I think now it would have been much healthier had I occasionally taken off my glasses and just fought him, rather than fear what might be. My brother once made best friends with a kid who was picking on him, because he warned him, then straight up clocked him. Broke his finger, but they respected each other after that. My life has so often been one of avoidance rather than confrontation, and I am the poorer for it.

I've known for many years that my fear of anger, both in myself and in others, is the reason I always loved the Hulk so much. I felt kindred to the smart guy who just wanted to be left alone and was terrified of what would happen should the monster be released. There was also the hope it gave, as the Hulk was nearly invincible, and really wasn't a monster at all, but a hero. But it has been an ongoing theme in my life. I had a best friend for many years throughout jr. high and high school whom I would have over all the time to play games with (N64 baby, ah yeah). We had a lot of fun. But as time went on, I noticed he would get angry and frustrated with a particularly brutal loss or upset in a game. It was never aimed at me, usually the game or a particularly uncool enemy or bit of terrain, but I still shied away from it instinctively. I often found myself trying to placate him, usually by playing along as if I was upset by similar circumstances with my death/loss, acting like I was likewise angry at the game's bullshit too. Honestly, I'm not terribly competitive and more just enjoy the experience with others. Who cares if I'm the worst, best, or middle as long as I have fun?

I still find myself trying to calm down angry and frustrated people. Sadly, it's only partly because I'm genuinely moved and want to comfort them, and a small one at that. It continues to come down to me fearing anger, even if it's not about me. I fear the consequences, the what ifs. I, perhaps ironically, whole-heartedly believe in righteous anger, that there are absolutely right times to be angry, but hold even myself back from truly letting myself be so. The pain deep down makes me cry, but the anger I pushed down makes me, ever so often, wake up yelling at someone or punching the wall. I'm on good terms with my brother now, but I woke myself up a few weeks back punching the wall and yelling that I would kill him. He's always the younger him in my dreams. As my family counselor once noted, these things bubble up over time, often in dreams, and we deal with them as they come. The anger with my brother in particular is hard to face, because I feel guilt for the emotional damage I caused him with my words back then. I had no physical stature to rely on, but I had a keen mind, a way with words, and a sharp tongue. He came at me physically, but I mentally, and I know I've caused wounds in him that still hinder him to this day. It's hard to let one's self feel even rightfully angry when you know you are guilty of your own injuries.

I find it interesting that I am the type that needs to process things either verbally or in writing, such as here, and have an extensive vocabulary and love of language, yet always find it all so....inadequate to truly expressing myself. There are always so many nuances and caveats I feel that get lost in writing. It's like I need a three-dimensional display with pull-down menus for all the places where my thoughts on something are conflicted or have multiple connections in my mind that cannot be expressed simultaneously on the page. It would be like having footnotes that are entire chapters unto themselves. It is a rare idea or concept that I cannot see the different sides of or arguments for. So many times I write or say something and then immediately want to qualify that I am aware of this or that facet and am not excluding or unaware of it, just that it's not entirely relevant to the discussion and... You get the idea.

Alright, venting done for now. Time for the sleep.

No spoilers in this post, though I'm likely to do one a bit later, but this is just my initial thoughts having only just watched End Game last night. Holy cow that was a ride. Yeah, three hours, but necessary, and none of it dragged or felt extraneous. Also, like half of Hollywood was in the dang thing for various cameos. I just kept wondering how much that set the studio back. Not that it would matter. This thing is solid gold. Though I am left with a few questions, overall the whole thing was a hell of a ride, and really wrapped everything up nicely. I cried twice during, and my buddy once. The whole thing was a beautiful homage to the entire series of movies while really bringing the catharsis. I'm super happy and grateful to have such a long-running thing end well. I have to say too, that whoever was in control of the overall movies did an excellent job of keeping everything going in the right direction. Even the lamest of the films aren't terrible, and they managed to toe that thin line between drama and comedy without ever falling too far one way or t'other.

Oh, and I'm rather glad Captain Marvel has minimal screen time. I'm not certain if they meant to play her this way, or it's just the actress, but she comes across as a condescending dick. I said to my buddy when she showed up at one point that she's basically Superman, if he were a dick. I'm definitely not likely to watch her movie, now more than ever.

Anyway, great movie.

Just so I don't forget anymore, I shall herein place some rhyming words I've thought of should I ever get around to writing a truly witty rap-battle verse. I love creative rap, and rap battles are always so cool, but inevitably they always end up talking about their dicks, and not creatively. If you're going to do something, do it right. Also, I've already forgotten several I had in my head earlier today and it's driving me nuts. I'll have to keep updating as more come to mind.

Egregious, prestigious, prodigious, facetious, fallacious

Verbose, morose, bellicose, so close, the most

Atrocious, precocious, halitosis

Moldy, told me

A-flutter, stutter, butter, nutter

Lather, matter, fatter, chatter
(Haha, Marshal Mathers lathers matters)

Paltry, salty, pultry, lofty

Each moment a classic, my word choice fantastic, I snap like elastic, while you're down on the floor
Your words are appalling, all stopping and stalling, no time for to calling, home for your mom
A small little mind, that keeps you behind, stop toeing the line, just get on the short bus
You're ride's almost here, let me be perfectly clear, you and your sneer, just go home, you're done
Your act's all played out, so you sit and you pout, or you stutter and shout, but you know you lost

Your rhymes are egregious, mine more prestigious, my vocab prodigious, while yours more played out (another rhyming word here possibly)

So I have this friend. Met her back when I lived in Colorado. She was always a bit quiet and subdued, with a hell of a cynical, sarcastic tongue when she did speak. She and I both tended to be on the outskirts of the group we frequented. She was a bit harsh, but I liked her. Still do. But here's the thing. Girl has the biggest chip on her shoulder you've ever seen. She has had a very difficult life, and there's no denying that she has had a lot of shit happen to her. It's like she has a cosmic kick me sign on her back. She had a boyfriend break up with her while she was in the hospital for an injury (knowing that she already had some issues with feeling unwanted); she has had an increasingly epic history of health problems, like crippling pains, messed up muscles and joints, and now something slowing blinding her; she's even had therapists blame her for things that were clearly not hers; she now has to sue the doctors who told her something would improve, but instead made it worse; add to all that, she is of Indian (dot kind) decent with very dark skin, and has many extremely racist issues over the years, living in a predominantly white, well-to-do city.

All that to say, she's somewhat earned a chip on her shoulder. That said, over the years talking with her, I've started noticing a few things that seem off. She definitely has a victim complex, that's for certain. I would say it's a bit earned, but it definitely makes everything worse for her. When you see only the worst of everything, and think everyone is going to betray you, you're going to make it happen. It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Speaking to a friend who knew her (back before she felt somehow shunned and left that group forever), she tends to overdo how she takes things. Whenever she speaks with me, I hear so many times how something horrible happened and how she had to leave forever. As has been said before, if everyone else is always wrong, it's probably you. But here's the thing, when I said she has some cosmic kick me sign, I'm not really joking. Honestly, I think that while she likes the attention she gets from her terrible situation (not that I can ever tell her that), I do think that she is under constant spiritual attack.

One question I keep asking myself every time I've spoken with her is how much does invite upon herself. She has an incredibly negative attitude, and I feel for her, but I know from experience that it's super not healthy, even one's actual health. Of course, my experience also leaves me knowing that it's incredibly difficult to get out of that place without something major helping you out of it. In my case, it was God, medication, and counseling. But I know all of those are difficult for her. She has odd reactions to medications, she's had some effed up counselors that make her cagey of them, and most of these groups that have wounded her (both legitimately, and inflated on her part) have been Christians. She doesn't much believe in God, in part because her life is so rough. Doesn't mean he can't knock on her door, but she may not listen or open. Either way, on top of her attitude, I'm not sure how to get her spiritual help for what is a clear and constant attack on her life on every front.

Also, girl is incredibly draining. Even talking for a few minutes with her is an incredibly emotionally draining experience. I want so much to help her, but she is almost a definition of toxic, but I care and want to see her live a life of joy. Somehow she still speaks with me, even though she sooner or later takes offense, and has at least once before with me. But I have to walk on egg shells, and even then she is touchy. She has bought the idea of systemic racism and micro-aggressions, all of that, and she sees oppression everywhere keeping her down. I want her to fight. I want to see her look all that shit in the eye, grin, and go at it. The best, most epic stories are those where a person overcomes the worst things. The stronger the struggle, the more epic the win. I want her to win. But she won't the way she's going, and I can only pray she will change.

Billie Eilish's new album just dropped some time in the past week, and I have already snatched it up. It's nice having money when you can get it. I was actually able to buy several of her albums and a few singles. Her stuff is so...spectacular. I don't have nearly enough proper adjectives for how much I love her music. Well, her and her brother. She's the voice and he's the wordsmith. Either way, their stuff is fantastic and she is absolutely my current fave. That breathy, ethereal voice, with unique beats, time signatures, and intriguing lyrics all make for a very happy me. It's nice that they're not all the same song. Some are jazzy and sweet, some poppy and upbeat, some disturbing and dance-y, and all through it her light, sweet voice. I'd crush on her hard if she were a bit older and less rapper in person. I'm always so amused by her voice and music compared to how she acts and speaks in interviews and videos. She'd fit in at punk rock/rap concert from the 90s...

Also, ugh. I've been trying to get into a better sleep schedule of late, i.e. prior to 5am, but one of my roommates has been making it difficult. He works later than he used to and doesn't have to be up early for school anymore, so he tends to stay up later. Worse, the living room and kitchen are right night to my door and sound carries well. He's not bad, just a bit oblivious at times to noise. He'll turn down the tv no problem if I ask, but he also has a buddy come over at times, and they inevitably drink too much. I was tired enough to go to sleep around midnight-one last night, but couldn't until like 3:30-4am as the two had two others come over, and several roommies joined it. Why do people get so much louder when drunk? Blech. I wish they could do their drinking earlier. Then they'd crash out and I wouldn't have to lie awake in bed, angry and annoyed.

I've heard the name before, here and there, but never before today listened to anything by Billie Eilish. Boy, have I been missing out. Between reading an article the other day about her haunting, deep, odd lyrics, and her doing Hot Ones on youtube, I decided I must rectify this gap in my musical knowledge. I have to say, I've been listening to her music videos for several hours straight now, and she's fantastic. That smokey, ethereal, Lana Del Ray voice, with the hints of jazz and the subtle beat you can see her move to, the haunting beauty of Eisley, it's all very captivating. Damn though, some of those videos are weird. I think of all of them, the oddest, and my favorite song so far, is the second to newest, Bury A Friend. Though honestly, at the moment I have a hard time deciding which of many are my favorite.

I haven't discovered such musical bounty since I belatedly first listened to Sia last year. At least I know what to listen to at work tomorrow.

Often when about to create an entry, I can't think of anything to put in the subject line. It's slightly annoying at the time, but I tend to forget about it...until I want to go back and peruse older entries. Yeesh. Far too many with no subject line that give me no indication of subject matter. I only put the occasional tag in, too, so as often as not the subject line is all I have to go on. I have started waiting until after I finish a given post to think up a title, but even still it remains a mild frustration. The thing I love most about language, and ours in particular, is the breadth of words available to us to convey most any thought, given time and effort. And yet, my words still fail me. More aptly, I think, is that I fail to properly think of the proper ones for the situation. I'm ever looking for an apt phrase; pity they elude me as regularly as they do.

I started rereading The Dark is Rising the other day. It's been a good few years since the last read through the series, but it still holds up well. What intrigues me is that at one point in the book, they go caroling, and any time Noel is mentioned, it's spelled Nowell. I don't believe I've ever seen it written thusly anywhere else before. It's one of those little oddities of language that pops up every so often.

I have an urge to write a bunch more, but I can't actually think of anything to write, which is odd, and a tad frustrating. I have to wonder if it's due somewhat to my recent decrease in dosage for my anti-depressant. I don't feel more noticeably anxious or depressed, but sometimes a burst of creativity does result, so I shall have to keep a close eye on myself.