The Neglectful Author

Oh, long neglected blog, I pine! Well, that's a lie. I don't really pine. At least, I don't really pine for blogging. I do pine for the creative gumption to get around to writing something that isn't trite and stupid, but I don't think that counts as pining for blogging per se. I can happily report, however, that I'm so busy keeping my resolutions that I've been unable to think for myself--or, at least, that's what I'm going to claim.

Clearly, I'm not keeping all of my resolutions. After all, here we are at almost 6 AM, and I find myself blogging. Needless to say, some will be harder to crack than others. I can cheerfully report that I've had earrings in my ears every single day since that last post. I've put on make up more than just once since that post as well. I finished one book and started another. I've been varying my music tastes. I've been committed to trying to listen to the little voice in my head that feeds me nothing but quiet degradations--because, let's be honest, I really do need to listen to that little voice that tells me that I can't sing worth a damn and should shut up. (If you've heard my singing, you'll agree with that.) It's an uphill battle, but I am at least still making the effort. I'm also happy to report that I have not cried drunkenly since my last post!

My turkey slaughtering holiday found itself appropriately thankful, as the title would seem to require. It's funny, though, that spending time with my family mostly just makes me yearn for my roommate and our apartment. It makes me long for a place where no one screams at me for little-to-no reason. It makes me want the peace and quiet that comes in the night there. It makes me crave the friendship and the solitude--though I do recognize that those are conflicting ideas, I have them both in a lovely balance back at school. It makes me wonder what will happen to my poor mental state when the Christmas break comes. I'm fairly certain I'll lose my mind.

My room here in Delta is so terribly boring now. All I have is my laptop and the bed. I don't even have a TV in here anymore because it's in our living room at school. In lieu of any other form of watchable entertainment, I turned to Netflix tonight. There's a movie that I've recently fallen in love with that I opted to watch again called Teenage Dirtbag. It's an independent film, and it would be impossible for me to describe it without giving too much away. The best part about it is how deeply it makes you feel. The emotion is so subtle, but so palpable and real. It leaves me feeling gloriously empty, sad to the core.

Strangely, sadness is an emotion that I have always embraced--much to the chagrin of others around me, I think. Many people don't seem to understand it, and it bothers them. I think sadness is an integral part of the human experience. We have to understand our own pain, embrace it, in order to be able to empathize with the pain of others. We have to examine our pain to be able to move through it, make it a part of ourselves. Of course, that's an idea that I've always embraced. Pain is part of life. Sadness can be painful, but that doesn't mean we can shove it under the rug and ignore it. We have to see it, to acknowledge it. Sometimes, we have to live in it for a while. Too many people let it overwhelm them, suck them in, because they've never tried to walk in it.

Apologies, sparse readers. My mind is trailing off because of the late hour and because of my own distraction. My thin attempts at depth are failing me, indeed. As a result, I think I shall call this entry off.