I lead no armies, I command nothing save myself, and not always that.

I am lost in my own mind.

I found a favorite artist: Renee Nault.
I have never really been sure about watercolor, but she makes it feel unique.
She does a lot of nature, animals, and mythology. Its a recipe for my loving it.

I just remembered that I am supposed to write reflections for each class session (there is one a week) for my Teaching Social Studies class, and I haven't written one since the middle of september. So I am on catch up mode. Fortunately I have a clear idea of what happened in each class period.

Let me begin here with an important disclaimer: I love my mother will all of my heart, there is nothing I wouldn't do for her and I owe her a lot.
That said, she's the person I conflict with the most out of anyone I know, because we're basically emotional opposites. I am exceptionally quiet, introspective, and analytical. She is outgoing, personable, and well, extraverted. It used to upset me, because things she does inherently bother me, like how touchy feely she is. But I've tried to get used to calming myself, or realizing that none of it matters, or not to let it get to me.
I have pretty intense self-control, but sometimes I have a hard time reigning in anger. It'll ignite like a match and I don't really have much to stop myself during the instant that it flares up. I'll say something I don't mean, or even worse, get angry in my head and start thinking negatively.

I'm not sure why I felt like expressing that, beyond that I have to deal with it minorly basically every day of my life.


A subject change:
Halloween is tomorrow. Woot.
I'll have a pretty awesome costume.
After church tomorrow I'm going to see my younger cousin Mallory's play, ive been invited to multiple ones before but never been able to attend. I feel badly because she and her family attend things of mine even though they don't have to. It's just courtesy to reciprocate.
I kind of look forward to it, its a play I was in when I was her age. So it'll be fun.


Before I babble beyond what is necessary, I'll cut off I think.
However, a song. Tiesto is such an amazing trance DJ, he has an awesome collaborative song with Tegan and Sara. It has such a great impression of both their styles: Feel it in my Bones

There's always a siren singing you to shipwreck

Sometimes my life hastens by impetuously. At others, I feel like I am stumbling around blind.

I had a dream when I was young that I was teaching a blind man what colors were by describing emotions. It's one of my fondest dreams.
I often dream very mundane things, as i've intimated to others before, just last night I dreamt I was making three pizzas, and then eating them. I remember the lengthy process of both making and eating the pizzas (including time spent waiting for them to cook).

I can't wait for the cemetery tour to be over tomorrow, despite my eagerness to dress up and get it over with, I am very nervous over the entire process.

I don't want to start another book before Towers of Midnight comes out on November 2nd, because I want to have be focused for it, no joke, and i don't want to be stuck in the middle of some book for no reason. Besides if i did read one, it would probably be the Cleric Quintet for the third time, and you all know how long THAT one is.
Its funny, I like that book because I relate to it spiritually, despite it being about a fictional magical character struggling with belief and focus in his deity, I can relate it to christianity.
I feel like I am impossible to take seriously.

I need to get to bed so that I can wake up in the morning.
A song: Flyleaf- The Kind

Maybe I'm just tired

The strangest things are tied to memory, there is a christmas wreath scented candle that reminds me of a video game I played while it was lit a lot apparently.

And then I can't listen to Gorillaz without thinking of Asheville NC.

Similarly, I played ping pong yesterday, I haven't played ping pong in ages, but I immediately sank into the little idiosyncrasies of it.

Mothballs smell like my grandparents house, lol. I like that smell.

I hate when people have a little spit string connecting the bottom of their mouth to the top. 

Also, I hate when there are little crusted flakes on the milk cap.

However, I love the colors of fall, its kind of less vibrant, maybe more pastel, but I could look at it for hours.

I wish Bob Ross weren't dead, The Joy of Painting is still one of my favorite shows. Such a happy little show.

I'm pretty sure people can figure most anything out if they think about it (There are exceptions, of course), I had thought this through before and then it was beautifully portrayed in this excerpt from James Joyce's Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man:

"Eileen had long thin cool white hands too because she was a girl. They were like ivory; only soft. That was the meaning of Tower of Ivory but protestants could not understand it and made fun of it. One day he had stood beside her looking into the hotel grounds. A waiter was running up a trail of bunting on the flagstaff and a fox terrier was scampering to and fro on the sunny lawn. She had put her hand into his pocket where his hand was and he had felt how cool and thin and soft her hand was. She had said that pockets were funny things to have: and then all of a sudden she had broken away and had run laughing down the sloping curve of the path. Her fair hair had streamed out behind her like gold in the sun. Tower of Ivory. House of Gold. By thinking of things you could understand them."

 I like to think everything through, to a fault I have come to realize also. There is virtue in spontaneity and risk. But I can't help it, I am a thinker... to the point of I could consider it my profession.

It feels like I think things through so often or so thorough that I have lapses in sanity or something along those lines. Not in a bad way, I guess. I heard when I was young, it may be an Einstein quote or something, but like, Intelligent is barely on the other side of the line of insanity.

I guess a warehouse worker is going to have bad knees from lifting, as a pitcher will have a worn out wrist and elbow. What would that bode or herald for myself?
Not that I worry, a warehouse worker can now take care of himself and those he loves, as a Pitcher does his part for the team and makes millions in the process.
Thinking has brought me self-edification.

It has also brought me basically along my relationship with God, and as such, has allowed me elusive happiness.

Before I expunge excessive mindless self-indulgence I will give a song.
Oceanside, a more obscure Decemberists song, but one I love.

I'm getting old and I need something to rely on.

I guess I'm something of a ne'er do well, even though that is something I could never do well.
At rising tide, you're looking fresher than a July bride.

Sometimes, when people say innocent things in conversation I cannot refrain from finishing the rest of the lyrics that then unintentionally quoted. Just ask anyone who spends a moderate amount of time around me.
I think it's endearing.

I have also been known to respond to questions in class by quoting songs. Often without anyone noticing, and coming off as if I have good input. I don't consider it lying, or plagiarism.

So. What to ramble about. Ramble. Wander. Meander.
If I see a word, I often immediately find synonyms for it.

I am getting relentlessly distracted. so this will be brief.

A song to listen to:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jmkj4mzUtrk

My thoughts are misguided and a little Naïve

It's so easy to just delete and forget.
Delete -> Forget.


I think it's weakness. I'll forget so that I won't have to worry about it.


Everyday is exactly the same. I rarely feel like things are new. I don't feel experienced though, I just feel routined and purposeless. "there is no love here and there is no pain".
It's safe. It's hidden behind barricades and bulwarks. I hate strife, or argument, I'm not sure where it stems from though.


I want to go to far away places and meet people. I want to fight for my life. I want my life to be an epic, and to be labeled a hero. 
I read too many books.


I wanted to try and end with something more uplifting but I'm not really feeling it right now, I always get like this late at night. Hmm, well, I worked out yesterday and I'm way sore, which I love the feeling of.
and...
the weather is around the time that it's my favorite. I like the chill. I think you feel more when you're cold, despite the numbing. Maybe its more mental awareness, like heat anesthetizes your mind while cold invigorates it.


well, the bedtime knell was around a half hour ago, I can't think of anything else to say.


As promised two blogs ago: one of my favorite Keane songs:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hsZK64ioSc0


It's called "She Goes Back in Time"


I'd always been confused by the lyric "She goes back in time" itself,

I usually approached the song in some manner as her going back in time, as in reminiscing, or dwelling on regret.

The repetition of 'time', so often as a lyric itself as well as the theme of all the rest seems to indicate to me the significance of whatever their past was. 

I also like how the first chorus "she goes back in time" is repeated 3x, the second chorus, 5x, and the third chorus, 7x. 
Which could represent, i think, that she is slipping more and more into wishing the past could be changed. Especially since each chorus is prefaced with "Don't wanna wake up, don't wanna wake up".

Thinking of it as 'she goes back... in time', adds a far more hopeful element that I hadn't considered. 
Throughout it all, I struggle to decide where he (the "I" of the song) fits in. But I still think it's one of their best songs.

Lethargy. Effigy. Intimacy.

That title is too good not to write a blog for.


The more I see, the less I know, the more I like to let it go. (Hey-oh).


forlorn |fərˈlôrn; fôr-|adjective1 pitifully sad and abandoned or lonely : forlorn figures at bus stops.2 (of an aim or endeavor) unlikely to succeed or be fulfilled; hopeless : a forlorn attempt to escape.

Sometimes when I am driving my car

I will think of something funny

And laugh louder than I normally would

Because I feel that since I am alone

And theres no one there to judge me

It doesn’t matter

However,

I still think that sometimes people see me

From their yard, or in the car

And think that I am absurd.

I ruined my eyesight when I was young

Because I read to many books

If I could go back in time to change it

I’d have only done it sooner.

At some point in my life

I woke up and understood

That women were no longer

Just a pair of lips and tits.

That I’d wasted my time,

When I should have been searching

For the woman who looked exactly

Like my sons and daughters.

When you're young

you don't care about your sanity

It's all just childishness

and fantasy.

Some may say:

"you still live in fantasy"

but they're just jealous

because they can't live in my castle.

Someone far wiser than me once said: 

Haiku are awesome

But sometimes they don't make sense.

Refrigerator. 

Now, two of my favorite haiku's i've done. Haiku may be one of my favorite writing venues.

Love blazing aflame,

Yet still affectionate for

Gentle loneliness.

Naked on the grass,

Blind eyes that long to see...

Rain, rain on my head.

I'm done copy/pasting for now. None of this was all that spontaneous. So sue me, I can't blog about my current thoughts every single time.