Out of sadness I have deleted many things; photos, writings, etc., etc. That's alright though because I have plenty of life left in me and with the Lord's help I won't be giving up any time soon. I have time for new photos, writings and more. This journal was started as a means of coping with a loss, in the time between then and now, I've lost and gained. I'm currently very sad, very hopeful, joyous, with an anger that's dwindling. I figured it'd be a good idea to start anew, because I dislike reading this old thing.
saintdargarius

In the sixth grade I did voluntary work at the church office, taking calls, faxing papers and canceling subscriptions. I have fond memories of this and the typewriter they allowed me to use for fun when I finished all my tasks. Back then I was quite savvy with a keyboard and was the most accurate and quickest at typing in my computer class. I loved computers, but was much more intrigued by typewriters. I loved the clickity-clack of the keys and the margin bell that'd ring when I was approaching the end. The one in the office was electromechanical of course, but mistakes had to be corrected in the same way as one of those old fashioned typewriters. I especially like that part. For someone who has become so wary about making mistakes, I'm not at all bothered to go back, cross out the unwanted word and continue writing.
A typewriter is like a film camera. While using both one must be much more intentional, much more patient and thoughtful. I'm tired of editing myself and I'm tired of taking a million shots using my digital camera to find that only one is really all that good. I know with discipline I can change that. I'm beginning to find certain people's imperfections really charming. I'd like myself to be more open to making mistakes and not editing myself to death.

The heartburn is back. Always before I sleep. There are things I want to do, to draw, to read, to study, but there are two midterms hanging over my head.
I lack desire to pursue a relationship with God. Desire is also lacking in other aspects of my life. I suppose I never thought to pray for desire. I usually feel there are certain things I need to go through before I can approach him and most other people. Unlike most everyone else, he sees me whether I'm ready for him to or not. I need to go to him, however ugly I feel, however absent my desire might be. I don't know if this makes sense...

I just emptied the trash on my computer (aka Señor comp-comp). There were more than 3,000 files deleted! That seems like a whole lot to me; 3,000 unwanted files. I didn't even bother to look through them in hopes of finding a photograph or writing that I might like better now than I did then. It is satisfying to let things go. Recently, I cleaned my room and somehow managed to throw two, large trash bags of junk away. It doesn't make sense to hold on to some things, but at some point in time it did. I find that strange. The mind also stores a lot of junk and I must admit I am guilty of letting clutter build up over time. I wish some things were more easily saved and deleted.

Drawing is such a therapeutic activity for me, as is painting. But there's something about getting my hands dirty with the soot of my charcoal pencils that calms me. When it comes to creating, I don't think charcoal is my best medium, but I'm starting to enjoy it more. I wish I could have a endless supply and sometimes I even wish I could quit everything and live immersed in the soot, with dirty fingers, forever working, forever drawing, smearing, erasing.

I feel like I need to be extremely careful about what I surround myself with and I absolutely hate it. I need to be cautious about what I listen to and when, lest it strike a chord that hurts me deeply. (I'll explain later...) I always feel unstable. It might be a trust issue or it might be wanting to know answers that may or may not exist. It's part of my personality to constantly feel like I need to solve problems and make life feel somewhat stable. Do I create problems to solve? I feel like I don't know things I should, and I torture myself trying to figure out what is right, what I'm supposed to do.

I've realized that I'm very attached to my music. The artists and songs I'm more familiar with in my collection all have some sort of emotion or memory or story behind them (and though I think some artists might be very good musically, the memory I've somehow associated with them makes the music difficult to listen to at times). For example, mewithoutYou, which I discovered two years ago, can never be listened to now in the same way it was then. The lyrics aren't just clever and pretty anymore. I relate with them more than ever. My heart somehow chooses in the process whether to be happy or saddened by it. This goes for so many other things (books, music, movies and more).

Heartbreak and certain situations have subsequently taken away many of the things I enjoy and have in fact turned them into things I must now avoid. But it's not all bad. I've been learning from this also. It's a cheesy and terrible thing, but I have no idea how else to say it other than that I just need to be the best I can, not hold back on account of what others have done and will do to me (or what they might think). Basically, I need to not care. Maybe that's not the thought process I should have, but for now, it will have to do because I cannot live this way any longer.

There is so much more to this, but I am tired and sad and need to finish my homework. Dwelling is the keyword here. It's something I must stop. I am affected by everything too deeply.

Today, as I exited the family center at school, I saw the empty playground. The sun was in my eyes and I was in preschool again. I looked down to see my cowboy boots walking on asphalt marked with white. Then, I was outside of myself and thought, "We really are the same person."

I'm reading and taking notes, believe it or not. I never take notes. It's strange, because I seem so visual with my interest in art and all, but really, I think I'm more of an auditory learner. Even when I'm not exactly listening, I find parts of lectures stuck in my brain that I absorbed subconsciously or something. I decided to write stuff down for a change though, because this political science class seems intense (and it's a beginner's class too? WTF). I don't know why I'm writing this. I think it's because I've become bored with taking notes already, but I'll go back to it, promise.
( Something slightly more interesting... )