July 6th, 2003

beartato phd

(no subject)

Arm falling asleep. My own writing makes me cringe. Yay, perfectionism. Argh. So tired.

Edit: No, no, no. It's not just perfectionism. It goes back to the discussion about world-building with adam. World-building seems less worthful because it is an easy power-trip, but every act of fictionalizing is the same to some degree. I suddenly have a strong distate for the feeling of being seduced, by the implicit power over a text, into simply rationalizing and justifying my own personality in characters and rewarding them in their little world for being like me or like how I want to be or something like that. And at the same time I remember, years ago, coming to a point where I decided that it was kind of pointless to get annoyed at authors for doing that, because, after all, what do you expect them to do, espouse some philosophy in their work wholly other than the one that guides their own life? Still, it's fair, at least, I think, to call it tacky if it's too transparent. Perhaps I should read Atlas Shrugged or some shit, and see if it's as bad as I've heard in that regard.
beartato phd

(no subject)

Right flipped out there earlier. Heat, dehydration, overstimulation, and the feeling that I should be doing work (specifically in this case cleaning) combined to put me in panic attack/avoidance mood. Whee. Thankfully, water, food, books (I discovered Hillman has an entire shelf and a half just for Borges's work and commentary thereupon!) and a good long walk helped a good bit. Got a little cleaning done after.

Later, played music with dave, vic, katy. Victoria's sister Arwyn (yes, her name is ACTUALLY arwyn, and victoria is jealous because she herself would have been eowyn if her father hadn't vetoed further tolkien names) was also there for a while. She was amusing. Music went well and helped my mood still further. Yay for music having completely unpredictable large effects on my mood. :P At least it was positive this time.