6.20.2002
 
"...Is this as hard as it gets? I'm getting tired of pretending I'm tough..."
- from "You Don't See Me" by Josie and the Pussycats

So, it's early morning at the moment. I got up just in time to see a sunrise I haven't seen for a few months (back when the sunrising in the east was a buffer for traffic to school downtown).

There's definitely something to be said about the late evening and early morning hours. Usually my days are filled with annoying people (::coughgrandmotherfuckingdearestcough::), pressing deadlines, and severe boredom. I am a complete nocturne, especially when it comes to moments of inspiration. Somewhere between getting to that half-awake zombie state and the cups of coffee/ tea/ caffiene I get my best ideas. During the day I can still come up with ideas, but they tend to develop slowly when the sun is still out.

You could say that the moon's presence makes me work almost exponentially... or not.

Called Karen yesterday while staining a wooden boat I plan to burn some images/words onto. Talked about, quite literally, anything and everything. It's relieving to converse with someone who has a matching wit, intelligence, and perception. But dear, I still have more to tell you... just need to formulate my thoughts into something tangible.

Another thing about nighttime: I always end up writing maudline, overly analytical letters in my bed that never get published/ sent. I have yet to resort to an alternate, unseen online journal, diary, blog, etc. to sort out my ideas. That's what paper and locking clasps are for.

I still need to write about modern mythological figures and symbolisms so that I can incorporate it into the boat-shrine that's in the middle of being constructed. At least the necessary images have been compiled.

Work is steadily becoming duller and annoying. Each day I have only half the energy to file items and such; I've resorted to organizing un-alphabetized documents in different manners to keep me... "entertained." Each day my fatigue makes me quite irritable. Conversely, my sister becomes sleep-drunk and more non-sensible than she normally is. At some point dad pays us a visit with some sort of caffienated beverage, and it only agitates sister's regression into a preschooler mentality.

I suffer more from her company than she does from her numerous papercuts. It was interesting to see her and one of dad's patients having eye-sex across two rooms and a hallway.

Later on that night I come downstairs to put away the cordless phone when grandma stops me and insists that I cook tofu with her. Well... I'll spare the numerous accounts of teeth-grating, back-handed comments, and utterances of "tank dee lord dat eye..." which my grandma just LOVES to use to make her point.

::insert dramatic music, a war-torn landscape, and a golden sunset:: As God as my witness, I will never cook with the grandma again!

I still have to take piano lessons this friday too... and I promised to practice every single day. But that never happens.

One of the consequences of being a complete nightowl: I can't practice without waking up the entire household. Nor do I want them (or anybody, for that matter) to hear/see me struggle through a piece that is still lack-luster. Even after working on it for almost two months.

Yep, general unease in the house of Windsor... erm, yeah.

. . . . . posted:||5:59 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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