Familiar Place
2002-11-08 � 1:59 p.m.

I feel heavy.

I've been holed-up in my room for the last three days, fighting off illness with varying levels of success. It does something to me, ill health does -- I feel like I'm a blight on the world, useless...it only leads me into more hermitage, more self-doubt. It's self-perpetuating. I'd like to pretend it's just the physical discomfort, but no one would believe that -- it's just that when the meat sack is weak, the Old Demons find their way inside (or is it out?) much more easily.

It takes a supreme effort of will to break out of it and go do something that will make me feel decently again. I haven't managed it.

I have scrapped NaNoWriMo. I hate -- hate! -- what I was writing. Lots, and with extreme amounts of passion. If it existed in a paper format, I would take great vengeful pleasure in shredding it with my bare hands. Instead all I can do is delete, delete, delete.

Like Atari Teenage Riot says: "Delete yourself."

Honestly (and this is so weird even I can't stand it), I shouldn't have told anyone I was doing it. I spread it about originally because I thought that if a bunch of people knew about it, it would be harder to quit, because of the embarrassment quotient. Once again, Temek doesn't even examine his own track record of behavior before deciding on a course of action. What it did instead was drive me freaking crazy, because all the people I told were always asking about it. My roommate was so...so excited that I was doing it. It makes me uncomfortable and nervous. I don't like that people think about what I'm doing, anything that I'm doing, especially writing, which I have problems with on a number of levels personally without other people's scrutiny added on top. It made me feel ill when my roommate was so pumped up over the idea...

So yeah -- I should have remembered that I don't have a problem telling people "Yeah -- I quit." I actually enjoy disappointing people. Feeling their disappointment reinforces my own low self-opinion, which I like (I think I've mentioned before that I am a twisted monkey). How can I not remember this about myself? I am a troll.

Maybe I can drag myself out of the house this evening. If I do, I can go see Glassjaw -- noise-rock might make me feel better about myself. Or at least allow me to vent in the middle of a mosh pit with sweaty teenagers.

Phaw.

-t

Currently Aurally Inducing: Murder, Inc., Gambit
Selection of the Lyrical Vocabulary: "Looks like the gambit is here, the torrential terminus, and everything that I knew I'd fear, stuck between the two of us.

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