12:58, I should so go to bed. I have a headache. Didn't drink enough water today or yesterday.
Just watched "Memento" for the first time. Obviously a very good film. But, once again, I heard way too much hype before I finally got around to seeing it -- so it's difficult to feel like I've discovered something cool. It's already achieved its own sort of "classic" status; when praise is mandatory, it's difficult to then give it voluntarily.
...Like Moby Dick, y'know? If you could discover this thing for yourself, then maybe you could fall passionately in love with it. But when it's put in front of you with "this is good!" stamped on the cover, a grain of salt is introduced. Hm. Shakespeare's kind of like that, at least at first. But I think Shakespeare can transcend the curse of universal praise, because there's such a large body of work, and so many interpretations, you can make him your own. Maybe the bible's like that too. ...Despite a thing being -too- popular, you can fall in love with it if you can find a niche of your own within.
I've been thinking that maybe what I want to do is focus on writing in my new digital journal, and then just pull passages out of that for the blog. But the thing is, it feels different. Blogging feels conversational. As I type, I can imagine that I'm talking directly to someone. I can turn to it if I feel lonely. Journaling-then-excerpting, on the other hand reinforces aloneness. There's a presumption (on my part) that I'll write a fair amount, then only select a few passages for public consumption. It moves in the direction of secrecy.
Blogging is like love (forgive me!). There's the feeling that you can say anything. It's liberating in that way, in the same way that when you are in the early stages of intimacy with someone, there's a feeling of liberation, that at last all can be revealed. The invisible man discovers spraypaint.
Hey: utterly random interlude. A week or two back I saw a helicopter fly over my neighborhood. It was black with red and orange markings. You'll recall that back when the Butte was on fire, I saw a similar helicopter, and mistakenly thought it was doing an aerial survey for mapping purposes. Well, this time I could make out the number on the side. Channel two, I think. So that's real confirmation that, no, it definitely wasn't mapping.
One fundraising meeting left before the big Crisis Line 30th Birthday Bash. [How did an anti-domestic violence agency wind up calling its event a "bash"? *old-timer voice* Back in my day...] One of the staff folk sent me a reminder today to send a reminder message out. D'oh. Should've done that earlier in the week. Still, at least I got it out.
...I copied the text from the Birthday invite postcard into the message, so folks could pass it on to their friends. Got a reply back already. Someone noticed that the address [which I copied accurately from the postcard] is wrong. It says PSU is in SE rather than SW. Oops.
Have I mentioned that I'm definitely not going to the event? Well I'm not. Go me, for sticking to my guns and not compromising my birthday.
I've decided that I have a new favorite color: charcoal gray. It's been purple for years. Violet. Periwinkle. Purples that lean toward blue so far, that I get confused about whether they're actually blue or purple. But as much as I still gravitate towards those colors, it's grays that are really speaking to me -- what I want to wear, what makes me feel like I'm inhabiting my mood visually.
"I wear gray on the outside, cuz gray is how I feel on the inside." Ugh. No, not like that. The grays I'm thinking of feel cleansing; like how they put charcoal into your stomach to absorb poisons, when your stomach gets pumped. [Feh. Things a person shouldn't know.] Quiet but powerful. Classic, like black -- but without the moral certitude of pure black or white. Gandalf the gray. Gray's my new power color.
Which I bring up because I'm wearing this neat new gray shirt that I got on my shopping trip today. And also cuz, hey, how often does your fave color shift?
Sent out invites for my own birthday party tonight. Well, not invites per se. I'm embarassed that I'm putting a plan together so late in the game, so it was more along the lines of polling folks to see if I could get critical mass. This is also my solution to the "what am I doing for Halloween?" question that's been so blatantly missing on this page. If folks come over to hang for Halloween, then we can say it's also a birthday thang, if they cross that midnightish meridian with me.
"Soylent Green" and "Omega Man" -- been thinking about showing them for quite a while now. Not exactly tailor-made for the birthday. But as a plan, it'll suffice.
OK, I'm going to say it: I'm turning 32. So, what about that? Generally, I'm feeling kinda non-plussed. Which is not how I want to feel. I'm -very- big on birthdays. They're times for making wishes about where to go next, for reflecting on where I've come from, integrating everything into a whole. But this time, well, I just don't know what to do with 32.
Thirty, now there was a big deal. Not like I was freaking out, but it coincided with leaving PBA and moving into the Butte house. Life events helped give it weight, and that sense of transition that I think I wanted to have.
I don't feel like I've accomplished much this year that I can point at. Not to denigrate what I've done... I worked on my YL writing pretty aggressively for the first quarter. Second quarter I worked on learning Lightwave so I could do an HPL film. I gave myself an extra month to work on that, intruding into the third quarter. But when it became apparent that I couldn't get the film done in time for the Lovecraft filmfest deadline, the project got shelved. Then in August I met G. September, October, lovely blurs... Which brings us to where we stand, almost done with the first month of the last quarter. Staring another birthday in the face.
Feh. We're at 1:58 now, an hour spent writing (and well-spent, I'd say). Well, if I get to bed by two-ish, it'll still count as getting back on track.
When 2:22 rolls around, I'll be thinking of you, G.
Just watched "Memento" for the first time. Obviously a very good film. But, once again, I heard way too much hype before I finally got around to seeing it -- so it's difficult to feel like I've discovered something cool. It's already achieved its own sort of "classic" status; when praise is mandatory, it's difficult to then give it voluntarily.
...Like Moby Dick, y'know? If you could discover this thing for yourself, then maybe you could fall passionately in love with it. But when it's put in front of you with "this is good!" stamped on the cover, a grain of salt is introduced. Hm. Shakespeare's kind of like that, at least at first. But I think Shakespeare can transcend the curse of universal praise, because there's such a large body of work, and so many interpretations, you can make him your own. Maybe the bible's like that too. ...Despite a thing being -too- popular, you can fall in love with it if you can find a niche of your own within.
I've been thinking that maybe what I want to do is focus on writing in my new digital journal, and then just pull passages out of that for the blog. But the thing is, it feels different. Blogging feels conversational. As I type, I can imagine that I'm talking directly to someone. I can turn to it if I feel lonely. Journaling-then-excerpting, on the other hand reinforces aloneness. There's a presumption (on my part) that I'll write a fair amount, then only select a few passages for public consumption. It moves in the direction of secrecy.
Blogging is like love (forgive me!). There's the feeling that you can say anything. It's liberating in that way, in the same way that when you are in the early stages of intimacy with someone, there's a feeling of liberation, that at last all can be revealed. The invisible man discovers spraypaint.
Hey: utterly random interlude. A week or two back I saw a helicopter fly over my neighborhood. It was black with red and orange markings. You'll recall that back when the Butte was on fire, I saw a similar helicopter, and mistakenly thought it was doing an aerial survey for mapping purposes. Well, this time I could make out the number on the side. Channel two, I think. So that's real confirmation that, no, it definitely wasn't mapping.
One fundraising meeting left before the big Crisis Line 30th Birthday Bash. [How did an anti-domestic violence agency wind up calling its event a "bash"? *old-timer voice* Back in my day...] One of the staff folk sent me a reminder today to send a reminder message out. D'oh. Should've done that earlier in the week. Still, at least I got it out.
...I copied the text from the Birthday invite postcard into the message, so folks could pass it on to their friends. Got a reply back already. Someone noticed that the address [which I copied accurately from the postcard] is wrong. It says PSU is in SE rather than SW. Oops.
Have I mentioned that I'm definitely not going to the event? Well I'm not. Go me, for sticking to my guns and not compromising my birthday.
I've decided that I have a new favorite color: charcoal gray. It's been purple for years. Violet. Periwinkle. Purples that lean toward blue so far, that I get confused about whether they're actually blue or purple. But as much as I still gravitate towards those colors, it's grays that are really speaking to me -- what I want to wear, what makes me feel like I'm inhabiting my mood visually.
"I wear gray on the outside, cuz gray is how I feel on the inside." Ugh. No, not like that. The grays I'm thinking of feel cleansing; like how they put charcoal into your stomach to absorb poisons, when your stomach gets pumped. [Feh. Things a person shouldn't know.] Quiet but powerful. Classic, like black -- but without the moral certitude of pure black or white. Gandalf the gray. Gray's my new power color.
Which I bring up because I'm wearing this neat new gray shirt that I got on my shopping trip today. And also cuz, hey, how often does your fave color shift?
Sent out invites for my own birthday party tonight. Well, not invites per se. I'm embarassed that I'm putting a plan together so late in the game, so it was more along the lines of polling folks to see if I could get critical mass. This is also my solution to the "what am I doing for Halloween?" question that's been so blatantly missing on this page. If folks come over to hang for Halloween, then we can say it's also a birthday thang, if they cross that midnightish meridian with me.
"Soylent Green" and "Omega Man" -- been thinking about showing them for quite a while now. Not exactly tailor-made for the birthday. But as a plan, it'll suffice.
OK, I'm going to say it: I'm turning 32. So, what about that? Generally, I'm feeling kinda non-plussed. Which is not how I want to feel. I'm -very- big on birthdays. They're times for making wishes about where to go next, for reflecting on where I've come from, integrating everything into a whole. But this time, well, I just don't know what to do with 32.
Thirty, now there was a big deal. Not like I was freaking out, but it coincided with leaving PBA and moving into the Butte house. Life events helped give it weight, and that sense of transition that I think I wanted to have.
I don't feel like I've accomplished much this year that I can point at. Not to denigrate what I've done... I worked on my YL writing pretty aggressively for the first quarter. Second quarter I worked on learning Lightwave so I could do an HPL film. I gave myself an extra month to work on that, intruding into the third quarter. But when it became apparent that I couldn't get the film done in time for the Lovecraft filmfest deadline, the project got shelved. Then in August I met G. September, October, lovely blurs... Which brings us to where we stand, almost done with the first month of the last quarter. Staring another birthday in the face.
Feh. We're at 1:58 now, an hour spent writing (and well-spent, I'd say). Well, if I get to bed by two-ish, it'll still count as getting back on track.
When 2:22 rolls around, I'll be thinking of you, G.
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