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I’m typing this up early so I don’t turn it in late, but if I know anything about myself for certain, it’s that I’m terrible at turning in assignments on time. Will I do it right this time? I guess we’ll see soon enough. (Update – nearly turned it in late. It’s 11:44 PM and I just remembered this assignment was due. I guess there was a little improvement.)

Anyway, I’m Sarah. I’m not good at goodbyes, so I’m just gonna post some lyrics from a song I like (I really reccomend listening to it, it seems like the kind of thing people in this class would like). Enjoy!

Alone at the edge of a universe humming a tune

Or merely dreaming we were snow

A siren sounds like the goddess who promises endless apologies of paradise

And only she can make it right

So things are different tonight

We’ll go together in flight

(Miracle Musical, Dream Sweet in Sea Major)

In My Feelings

I’m stuck in a mood, and I’m not sure what kind of a mood it is – I only know it is persistent, and I have an inkling it’s not good.

 

I’ve been going through some changes recently. Turning back old cycles, reliving phases, getting stuck in old habits I thought I grew out of. A long time ago, I made a facade through hard work and determination, in order to appear hard-working and determined – but it’s falling apart because I was neither hard-working nor determined when I made it. I’m hardly better off now than I was then, but at least now I know which pit I’m about to fall into (or rather, which desert I’m about to traverse, if you catch my bad mood #4).

Introspection is a funny thing. When I was younger, it was my favorite pastime (acknowledging and ignoring the fact I had no friends and therefore nothing else to do), but now (with slightly more friends, but just as few things to do) I try to avoid it at all costs. Not that it’s necessarily bad – introspection can be very helpful, and some people really benefit from it. But I’ve learned that the more I zoom in on it, the more colorful paradoxes I find; and if I pay attention to me too much, I’ll get lost in a fever-dream labyrinth. So I’ve decided to put a pin in it, for now.

 

Because I’m an egotistical devil, I like to pretend I actually know what I’m talking about (even though I don’t even understand half the things I say). Keeping this in mind, I’d like to share with you a bit from my brain that I found quite profound when I thought it up, but is probably much less impressive now that I type it out.

Stop giving people good advice.

This is hypocritical in itself, because (depending on who you are) this is good advice. But I’m giving it to you regardless, because maybe if everyone takes this into account, we’ll have a little less stressful of a world.

The justification behind the principle is this – there are no communities where information rolls and stops at the and of the circle. Information can spread to every corner of the globe, which is a good thing, but also comes with unintended side effects. Think of life hacks. A corny meme? Yes. A good example? Also yes.

Life hacks are pro tips to getting a leg up on everybody else in the game. They show you how to improve in any way you want – they will make you exceptional, if you can master them. Only they really won’t, because everybody is reading them and mastering them at the same time as you are. Suddenly, everybody is operating on a higher level than they’re used to, but we keep trying to improve at an exponential rate to keep up with the competition. We’re all hitting our peak potential without any exploration into it, and we all fall back down to rock bottom because there comes a point where you’re too tired to progress anymore – it’s become too stressful to keep up with those who are more adept at adapting.

If you stop giving people good advice, people will stop getting good advice. If people stop getting good advice, they find ways to improve and explore their own strengths and limits on their own, and we as an overall society will advance at a more healthy (and consequently productive) rate.

 

I don’t remember where this post was going.

 

I’m working on a few stories right now, but I keep getting scenarios that don’t belong to any of them stuck in my head. You could probably apply that to life, in some sort of ‘the moral of the story is…’ kind of way. But I don’t want to apply it to life, because morals of stories have been smothering me since the beginning, and I want to find a way to escape them.

But I can’t escape them, because I’ve made my own moral of the story by making all my stories the same.

The moral of this story is: Hypocricy is fine and good, so long as no one is doing it but you.

Sarcasm.

 

I want sushi and animal crackers. And I want to listen to good music that won’t get old.

I’m going to bed. Goodnight.

Bad Mood #3

Some bad moods are like pits. They’re dark. You can fall into them without warning, and have a hard time finding purchase to clamber back out. If you’re lucky, other people can help – but they can only give you the ladder, they can’t help you climb it.

Some bad moods are like a haunted house. It’s cold and quiet, and everything you notice could either be something, or it could be nothing at all. You’re not sure if you’re alone. You hope you are.

Some bad moods are like swamps. You don’t know how you got here, and you don’t know how to get out. Pockets of quicksand suck at your shoes and threated to trap you. There’s something in the water, but the undergrowth and the wind hold secrets of their own. Tread carefully.

Some bad moods are like the desert. They scorch you and blind you and beat you and grind you to dust, and just when you think you’ve found water, it turns out to only be a mirage.

The worst bad moods are trapped in your esophagus. If ever one wakes, you better make sure it doesn’t crawl out your throat, because once it’s out, it doesn’t go back in. You aren’t in a bad mood – this bad mood is in you.

Some bad moods are like castles. Grand and cold and empty, and crawling with expired memories best left alone. These bad moods masquerade as good moods, and they will house you until you realize they were never real at all.

A Tribute to Fear

A tribute to fear

To loved ones held dear

To things we will never say

 

A tribute to lies

To deadly reprise

To ones that were led away

 

A tribute to you

A tribute to me

A tribute to tribute

And all it can mean

 

A tribute to fear

To a well-made veneer

To all that I won’t obey

CryoChronic

I don’t know how to tell you that I’m cold.

Not cold like the biting tundra, where icy winds bleed under the skin,

Cold like deep space. Cold because there is nothing warm.

I’m freezing.

 

How far away am I from you?

And if I asked, would you answer honestly?

 

Why is it that I don’t know when I’m telling the truth anymore?

This is Love

What is the ocean? Vast, deep, and dangerous – something one cannot hope to control. Sailors skim across the surface of something ancient and unforgiving, and hope that it will be careless a little longer.

What is a life? Endless, ending, individual, collective. A blink in the eye of a god. Infinite in value because we demand that it be so. Replaceable, but never quite the same. Someday it will run out.

What is a story? Thrilling, new, temporary – always anticipating the next. Is this a series with a happy ending? With this taper off into obscurity? Is it a one-book tragedy? You’ll never know until you reach the end yourself.

All this and more. Something that is worthless until we learn how to use it –

this is love.

equilibrium with the devil (ramblings)

When I was born, I felt the Devil in my bones. Like he was here before me – just waiting for me to arrive. When I was eight years old, I asked him if he was here to make a deal. He laughed kindly and said he had nothing to give me, but he would gladly be my friend.

 

Is one empty if they are everything around them?

I give myself away in pieces and cultivate seeds of personality within other people. Is that emptiness? I see myself from a million different angles, and am not sure what to think.

 

When I was twelve years old, the Devil told me I was destined to be a bad person. I told him I already knew. He asked me who I wanted to be. I told him I didn’t know. He was the only one who believed me.

 

I feel simultaneously god-like and ant-like.

I don’t know if any of this is real. What do other people live for? I think I need a better diagnosis. And a book. I want another angle.

 

When I was sixteen, I remembered that hellfire was cold. I practice sealing deals with a kiss.

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