Foiled by a warped mind

Man oh man, Young Adulthood.

Found my wordpress blog I used to write unkind things on today. Man, was I angry. Actually, it's pretty understandable given the circumstances of a shared room, but now I think it's time to MOVE THESE ENTRIES SOMEWHERE MORE PRIVATE, yo.

Probably here. Under several locks and maybe a couple of ogres guarding the door. How good are ogres as guardians anyway?

EDIT: It turns out that WP allows both private settings and password protected options. I guess these particular not-for-children posts will remain where they are :D

The worst kind of guiltily procrastinating turns everything shitty and ruins every activity.

The temperature was in the mid-twenties in the evening. Ridiculous.

It's NOVEMBER. NOVEMBER! Girls are still wearing tank tops and shorts, and I'm not layering five layers on top and two on the bottom.

Not that I mind, but it's November! The month before December!

Mrow. So tired. When will I be able to run and not be tired? ′Д`;;;

Cross-post.

It's not about this blog.

I tagged all my posts according to their respective subjects in very thinly-veiled pseudonyms (I was never one for creative naming), added some recent thoughts and investigations of the self, then took everything off public eyes. I have yet to work on my backlog entries. But as soon as the opportunity comes, it shall be written. There is too large a void in that important period of time and it is really time I face my own mess rather than landing in the neurotic level of defence mechanisms at every turn. It's time to move onto some sublimations.

But to the point of this post: I am highly amused that the largest fraction of posts so far is of the Nerdinator. Yeah, you know who.

I foresee that to change as time goes on and perhaps when I finish my backlog, but the blunderings of a sixteen-year-old self really does not cease to amuse.

One more serious matter: in the beginning, I wrote because I could not let my hair down just a little. Now I write because I still can't let my hair down completely to at least one person in this world. I wonder if that person will ever happen.

I'm not the only one who can you that I run, run, run, intellectualizing and isolating where I can, suppressing where I cannot.

As if feeling rules were not competently learnt.

Affect display requires sincere affect in the first place.
Internal sources disturb the baseline, seeking attention and expression but only feels like a strong general sense of wrong;
External sources are even more so frightening in its perceptibility. (They are either masked by my egoism, deep beyond my capabilities to accept, or suspected to be not really what's happening.)
(So maybe it's just easier to not deal with the can of worms.)

Isolation is so easy.

Hello, Excuse For Distraction

Not that nothing went on in the past year, only that I got lazy and stopped talking about my feelings because there are more people around me now. Also, hello, some form of lack of motivation happened last (school) year. But the brain still fucking refusing to write for school. It's getting worse by the quarter. Perhaps it's time to pick this habitual writing thing up again so five pages won't sound as daunting.

The F applies in multiple meanings and locations.

Found some really embarrassing things I wrote back in 2004-2005 on stray pieces of binder paper, decided to check the blog for old time's sake, and...I think writing a long, long story about myself might be interesting. Just to summarise things from the viewpoint of one nearing her tu-tu's.

On second thought, maybe that's a little too much.

Also will go back to some old entries and comment—some deserve love, retrospectively.

12:17 - After two hours of sleep, I'm back on track in not writing the assignment. After ten years, I'm finally agreeing with Father and admitting that I have problems in articulating my information and ideas for public consumption.