(no subject)
Putting pen to paper. i have an idea for a species i hope to create and of course, a world around it. It's proving to be more difficult than i thought. I feel as though i need to talk to to some LARPers or at least table toppers in order to gain a better idea of how to go about it. that in itself is not a difficult feat as all my friends are one of the other, or both.
however, this is causing me to reflect upon my own life in a way that i'm not ready to face. I'm not quite sure what it is. but in me is the russling of a deep nostalgia, though i have issues understanding what it is that i'm feeling nostalgic about. I feel longing, though i'm not sure what i long for. i want a change but i don't know in what part of me that i need to change. I want to write but i seem to have lost the inspiration.
i'm just lost at the moment. where did my direction go? did i even have it to begin with or was it hte illusion of direction which i blindly followed in my desperation. i hope continents on a whim and i don't understand why, only that that thing inside me demands it so.
I've been contemplating returning to Wales. I have a return ticket for october, which i could take advantage of. I want to.
I came home because i was broken. i needed jordy to glue me back together. i needed to know that the world was not a bad place, that there are havens, and oh yes, bellingham is a haven. it strikes me as extremely unfortunate that people are too involved or untraveled to udnerstand that there is no place in the world as glorious as this town.
my peices are in the process of beign glued back together, but every now and then the wind blows a few to teh ground, and they break slightly more, requiring more work. I'm not sure i can be fixed by october. I think i proved that to myself last night. I'm really a wreck when i can find falt in my haven.
i've fortoggen who i am. sometimes i stop and can't actually figure it out. more often than not i can't figure it out. there are rare moments of clairity, but as i've said, they're rare. I know what i'm not, which i suppose is a start. just because something is not blue doens't mean it's yellow.
this is a fairly nonsensicle entry. just meaningless typing for the sake of typing.
however, this is causing me to reflect upon my own life in a way that i'm not ready to face. I'm not quite sure what it is. but in me is the russling of a deep nostalgia, though i have issues understanding what it is that i'm feeling nostalgic about. I feel longing, though i'm not sure what i long for. i want a change but i don't know in what part of me that i need to change. I want to write but i seem to have lost the inspiration.
i'm just lost at the moment. where did my direction go? did i even have it to begin with or was it hte illusion of direction which i blindly followed in my desperation. i hope continents on a whim and i don't understand why, only that that thing inside me demands it so.
I've been contemplating returning to Wales. I have a return ticket for october, which i could take advantage of. I want to.
I came home because i was broken. i needed jordy to glue me back together. i needed to know that the world was not a bad place, that there are havens, and oh yes, bellingham is a haven. it strikes me as extremely unfortunate that people are too involved or untraveled to udnerstand that there is no place in the world as glorious as this town.
my peices are in the process of beign glued back together, but every now and then the wind blows a few to teh ground, and they break slightly more, requiring more work. I'm not sure i can be fixed by october. I think i proved that to myself last night. I'm really a wreck when i can find falt in my haven.
i've fortoggen who i am. sometimes i stop and can't actually figure it out. more often than not i can't figure it out. there are rare moments of clairity, but as i've said, they're rare. I know what i'm not, which i suppose is a start. just because something is not blue doens't mean it's yellow.
this is a fairly nonsensicle entry. just meaningless typing for the sake of typing.