The ever-growing number of wrong steps and panicked lunges in inappropriate directions can hardly come as any kind of surprise when the ground is constantly crumbling beneath your feet, biting on your heels.
And there’s nothing else.
No stop, no rest, no safe haven, no place to step back and breathe before taking a step.
Year, after year, after year.
And the point comes when making mistakes and wrongs is not the worst thing anymore, it’s not being able to stop caring about making them that is the absolute worst.
had an anxiety attack because I painted my nails.
Not even an anxiety inducing colour.
I don’t even guess anymore
And summer ‘vacation’ is gone.
With regards to the to do list, I’ve managed only the web page design update. Mostly.
Also, got back to OmmWriter in an attempt to rewrite the Prologue to the main ‘Chronicles’ series…and realised that, since it’s about to go over 10,000 words, I probably shouldn’t really be calling it just a ‘prologue’ anymore.
(Also, found out that I own at least 6 pairs of shoes I have never worn more than once…likely bought in a wrong size because I wasn’t able to handle being in the store. Trying to get rid of them using Merucari app now. In order to prevent the repeat of this in the future, I do believe I will now mostly only buy shoes using Amazon Wardrobe option (tried once, worked great). Because, apparently, unless we are talking about boots, I can spend 2 hours in a store trying on various shoes just, trying find a pair that will fit and won’t hurt (everything hurts), and still only get something in a wrong size and a skull-crushing and stomach-turning migraine from just being in the store…)
Once in a while I need to write these things out to force my mind to focus on them. As if to feel like writing/posting them will make them solid:
- I need to change the layout of this site. I’ve even chosen what I want, just can’t figure out how to make it work. Which I should do now, because next time when I might have time won’t come around soon.
My writing projects currently feature:
- Chronicles duology: over 160,000 words and about 30% done
- Chronicles series: over 57,000 words and below 10% done
- Shards and other ideas: 20,000 words over all
- New SF standalone and contemporary standalone: both about 3000 words each, with first chapters and only plot notes done
My excuse is one and only – health. It’s been very difficult to write anything but shit when I only constantly feel like shit. But I do need to make some progress, to at least not feel like shit for failing at this as well.
The bad: Had to go to work in the middle of summer holidays, right on the next days after I got back from the airport in the evening.
The good: Managed to finish everything in 1 day, instead of 2.
The good: Didn’t have to turn on the lights in the office with no one else there and it was great. The best.
The bad: The people who passed by did believe it necessary to ask me if I just didn’t know how to turn them on.
I wonder if I’m getting worse with age, or is it just the constant exhaustion that makes my senses oversensitive, because I have no resources left for tolerance.
I don’t know which one is the worst one, sight or smell. The sound is the easiest to deal with, and touch is controllable once you find right clothing. Unfortunately, too much about smells and light is shared with other people, so they are very difficult to control, unless I stay locked in alone.
This time around I had to use such measures and carrying a lamp stand from the corner of the room into the bathroom, because there were 4 lights in there and I couldn’t turn them on/off separately. If there wasn’t a lamp I could bring in, I’d probably have to bathe in darkness or use my laptop as a source of light. I don’t understand why people think they need so much light for one tiny room. Or for any room…
I also had to waste money on buying 2 separate room aromas, Febrese, and bath bombs. For a hotel room I’m staying in for 3 nights. I don’t think I ever had to go as far before.
While I love to pretend like I couldn’t be happier about escaping the chaos, the buzz, the heat, and the air pressure, and all the ‘too much’ things about the overcrowded megalopolis city I live and work in, the first thing I notice when I reach one of the small towns I like to go hide in, is that I have very little ability left to deal with little things about living and being outside without the anonymity the state of being one speck of sand in the overflowing sandbox that is Tokyo provides.
I’m making this about more than it is.
I just can’t really handle the difference in amount of human attention you draw just by existing in a small town, and the way that difference feels on my skin when I say, enter a cafe.
And the fact that there are no easy chain coffee shops where I can pop in, quickly buy a few giant cups to go and haul them back to my room to read and write in peace nowhere in the vicinity is throwing me more than it should.
I’m too used to have a selection of various coffee shops on every corner… And now I need to gather courage before I can enter a new kind of place.
In fact, I wonder if I even can discover a place where I can get a coffee to go at all around here at all…
My TBR pile of paper books officially reached number 111 today…
I sometimes manage to stay away from television, news, and real world in general so well that when I catch a glimpse of it by chance I suddenly find out that parts of country are being washed away with level 4 (out of 5) evacuation alerts, a number of very prominent and very famous tv figures got in organised crime-related trouble (which in this country means a big reconstruction on the tv scene because they will need to replace big tv shows that were in the same spots for many years and people who everyone was used to seeing all the time), and that some of my favourite (and very talented) musicians were arrested.
Feels like this world is never going to convince that there might be a merit in not living like an ostrich.
It never gets old.
The fact that I actually manage to work proofreading and editing (and translating) texts,
while in my everyday life I write ‘vase’ instead of ‘face’ in a sentence and have to read it at least three times to notice.
I’ve never really figured out this ‘living in the now’ thing.
For the first 25 years of my life I lived in the future. I’ve hoped, and imagined, and ‘rode through’ the parts I couldn’t quite handle until I could reach the next stop.
Now, I mostly leave in the past. The hopes have left, so did the strength look for new steps and beginnings to jump to. Instead came the flashes of suddenly being transferred into some location I walked many years before, and very likely won’t ever have a chance to set my foot in ever again. I can smell things, I can taste things, I can see myself standing in the places that are probably long gone from the face of this Earth and I wish they weren’t. I have hardly any memories of things that happened, of things said and done, but I can walk the places I haven’t seen for almost 20 years with startling clarity.
Since today happens to be ones of those days in a year when my apartment is to be invaded by inspectors of one kind or other that happens once a few months (water pipes, fire alarms, whatever they can come up with),
and I had to spend my weekend trying to pretend that I’m not a child of chaos and autism, and can actually keep my living quarters presentable enough for strangers to barge in and not stare in shock,
I’ve also been watching Netflix while trying to clean, which left me with a thought that I might have an easier time with living if I could convince myself that I was watching some weird Science Fiction every time I watch…practically anything.
It might save me from all the flinching and dread I feel each time when I watch something about humans and realize I can’t comprehend, can’t identify, and can’t feel any affinity.
It also made me sit and think about how I wish I could know what other humans feel when they watch other humans.
When you’re someone who (or in a stage) reads 20-30 books monthly (and also has trouble finding books that your sick and tired psyche can handle atm, so ends up discarding half as much as ‘read later when I have the right mood’, thus creating 80-90 book TBR piles on the top of your bookshelf), while also living in a small Tokyo apartment and not in an ancient castle with 2-floor library, opting for doing it through an ebook reader should be a no-brainer. The most logical, easiest option. The only acceptable option, some even would insist…
Not only it would save you from struggling to find a space to store all your books, but also, kindle versions are very often come 5-15 dollars cheaper than buying paper books (not to mention sometimes having to pay for shipping to Japan, though having Prime helps). Why, sometimes, they are even free on kindle.
So, really, a no-brainrer.
Or it should be.
…Unless you are also an aspie to whom the sensory experience of reading a book (holding it, touching the paper, smelling the paper, feeling exactly how much you’ve progressed) is as important as reading the words on a page and without it reading is not reading, and your brain actually misses chunks of content when you’re reading from an e-reader (tried and confirmed multiple times).
Then all bets are off and you can only improve your ‘finding places to put bookshelves’ game and hope he floor doesn’t give up during the next earthquake. Or in general.
My recent panic episode (triggered by newest medication messing with my heart rate and Japanese drug stores disappearing while I wasn’t looking and not selling anything that would let me measure and record it) led me to purchasing a ‘fitness’-type watch that now records my heart rate and sleep patterns, etc., constantly.
(Unfortunately it also now refuses to let me turn off GPS on my phone, which is bound to give me another episode some time soon, because I’m paranoid enough to want GPS to always be OFF on all my devices.)
There were a couple of interesting measurements, like the fact that there is a visible difference between me being at home and me not being at home (in general 20-40 bps difference between me sitting at home doing nothing and me sitting at work doing nothing at any point of time), or rapid spikes while I’m getting ready to leave in the morning…
But the thing I found most interesting is that since the program marks heart rate above certain number as “fat burning”,
according to it I’ve been “burning fat” every time I read today (I’m on a stressful action-sequence ending of a sci-fi drama),
and wouldn’t that just be the dream?
(Though, it’s all total bs, because if I was burning anything every time they say I do (more than 5h in a day), I wouldn’t be gaining weight from just thinking about food as I tend do, would I?)
I read because everything but reading is a struggle and chore. Moving, thinking, eating. Breathing.