The Personification of Objects

I've really been slacking off with my updating lately.  Last month, I wanted October to be all about this zombie story that I wrote and this month I'm heavily involved in writing my first novel for National Novel Writing Month, so I guess I just haven't had much time to update.  That doesn't mean I haven't had a lot going on in my mind...

Just to kind of elaborate on my last entry, the discomfort is still there.  I think a part of the reason why is because I grow attached to objects, not people.

I felt bad putting my huge television in our storage building.  I felt bad putting my rinky-dink chair in our storage building.  It was sad letting go of my statuesque armoire to make room for my new desk.  And yesterday, I received a new phone due to a new cell phone provider absorbing my former one.  That night, I reached for my phone to put on my nightstand (I use the alarm feature to wake up in the morning) and when I touched it, I realized I didn't need it anymore.  The phone was old, obsolete, no longer needed.  I felt bad because I felt like I had not only upgraded to "better" things but abandoned the old stuff.

I would understand if you think that's super crazy.

But for me, I don't think it's so extreme.  I knew a girl in high school who personified her stuffed animals.  I do that as well.  But it doesn't stop there.  I have a robot dog that I bought when I was in high school that I still keep around, even though I haven't turned him on in ages.  I don't want to get rid of him because I would feel bad, like I was abandoning him just as if he were a real dog.

Even when I sold my raggedy truck (my first vehicle) and bought a brand new car, I felt a tinge of sadness over selling the truck.  I didn't like the truck so much as it wasn't personally something I'd choose and it was quite old when I got it.  But it sure did work!  It wasn't much to look at but it was dependable and got me where I needed to go.  And yet, I moved on to something that I deemed "better" and got rid of it.

I guess if I really think about it, the reason I get sad is because I almost feel like I'm leaving these things behind to get better things.  And that resonates with me because I feel like I, too, have been left behind by people so they could find someone better.

And maybe I attach more emotion to objects than people because I've never been that attached to people in the first place.  I don't think I've ever had a consistent friend in my life.  I've had some that have lasted quite a while but even the longest, strongest ones have fizzled out in time.  People grow apart.  Time and circumstance change personalities.  People become sick or disturbed.  People move on.  People leave.  But that stuffed animal or acoustic guitar isn't going anywhere, isn't going to get up and walk away.  It's there to be touched and talked to, a constant presence in a world of shifting bodies.

I guess it is kinda weird.

And as I mentioned before, it's the whole idea of change.  I don't know why I'm so against it, especially in a world and a life where things are constantly changing.  The only thing that will ever remain constant is change.  Everything is ephemeral.  And I just can't get past that.  And maybe the emotional attachment and fear of change go hand in hand.  Not only does it feel like saying goodbye to an old friend but I then have to adjust to something new, something coming in and changing up my life and I almost resent it, whether it's a person, place or thing.  I don't like disruptions but existence is nothing but one big disruption after another.

Everything changes. 

People. 

Writing. 

Feelings.

Attachments.

Furniture.

Hearts.

I Can't Get No Satisfaction

I'm feeling so uncomfortable right now.

My new desk came in yesterday.  I spent all day today cleaning out my armoire and removing it so I could set up the desk.  I had to take out my gigante television and replaced it with my flat screen that I purchased for college.  I was trying to save room but it really just make me nervous because I like my old huge television and I don't like the flat screen one as much.  And just to round out the transitions, I got rid of my small chair and upgraded to a bigger chair.

And then the grand finale:  I set up my Cintiq.  I was so scared I would crack it or drop it or something but I managed to set it up just fine.  Then, I powered up my dinosaur Windows computer because I wanted to at least play with the Cintiq although I didn't have any programs.  There's a neat free animation program called Pencil that I dabbled with on my laptop but I thought I'd be able to get more use out of it now that I could draw directly on the screen, even if it was still just practice.

I had to install the Cintiq in two stages:  setting it up as a display and then setting it up as a pen tablet.  It was pretty nerve wracking because I was worried I would screw something up, damage a driver or just have the whole production not even work.  But, turns out, it works just fine.  I've drawn on it a little bit.  I'm hesitant to get too into it, though, because I don't want to scratch the screen with my pen.  I accidentally scratched the face of one of my characters from my senior film into one of the CIntiqs at college.  At least I left an impression there, eh?  So, I just don't want to do that to mine.  The screen is so beautiful and perfect and I don't want to ruin it.  Gosh, what a lovely piece of machinery.  I don't think it is two grand lovely but lovely nonetheless.

But here's where the discomfort comes in.

I hate hate hate change.  Many old readers of mine should know that by now.  I mean I really detest change.  I set up these routines so I can handle them emotionally, which creates a comfort zone.  When things change, it shatters that comfort zone and I feel like I'm going to break out in hives.  This is one of those times.  Everything looks so different and I don't like it.  I know it will take some time to get used to everything but I don't want to.  I have too much going on in my head without having to make room for a change of furniture.

I guess I just thought I'd be happier than this.

Of course, like I said, a part of it is getting used to everything.  The other part is I'm terrified to touch my Cintiq because I don't want to ruin it.  It was so expensive so I want to make that baby last my lifetime (I'm guessing three more years, maximum).  And I don't have the programs I need and the computer is kind of slow which does not help when it comes to fast-paced animating.  Waiting around for a laggy computer to catch up with your work kind of ruins the flow.

But the paranoia shoots up and I wonder if anything will make me happy.  I guess that's weird to say.  I never expected receiving the Cintiq would make me happy.  I figured I'd be happy once I started producing some good work and people responded well to it.  And the Cintiq is the vehicle to get me there.  The thing itself won't bring it.  I suppose I just though I'd be more psyched about it but I'm really just leaning on indifference.

Will anything excite me?

I'm still not so hard at work on my book.  I've written 12871 words, which is a couple of thousand more than my latest piece of fiction so I'm definitely stepping into uncharted territory here.  I feel short stories and novels are entirely two different beasts and I'm hopeful, yet terrified about writing this thing.  It could be great or could be a turd and anyone who knows anything about National Novel Writing Month will say it probably will be a turd.  But that takes the pressure off because it's really just about writing.  Unfortunately, I'm about a good 12,000 words behind already.  I'm not sure I'll be able to finish the novel on time, especially since I'm writing this entry instead of working on my book and I've been rearranging my room all day instead of working on my book and now I feel too exhausted to work on my book and I have to work for the next six days in a row and after I'm done with my shifts at work, I'm not so much in the mood to write as I am to run my car off a bridge.

But even if I don't finish on time, I'm sure I'll be close and I'll have written more in one novel than all my short stories combined so I guess that's commendable enough.

Novel

November is shaping up to be quite the month already.  And not necessarily in a good way.

First of all, I'm participating in National Novel Writing Month.  The goal is to write a 50,000 word novel in thirty days.  And that's it.  If you do that, you win.  If you don't, then no big deal.  There's no trophy or award or publishing deal.  You just write and if you make your goal, you get the satisfaction of knowing you wrote an actual novel.  The funny thing is no one even expects it to be good, especially since you're writing the novel at such break-neck speed.  So, that kind of takes the pressure off.  I'm not writing an epic here.  I'm just trying to write a book.  And of course, I'm already way behind but I am writing every day and I hope I can catch up on my next day off tomorrow.  The plan is to knock out these 50,000 words by the end of the month.  If I do, I'll be happy.  If I don't, then I'll still be somewhat happy that I at least made an attempt.  I've never written a piece of fiction over 10,000 words before so this will be a real challenge for me.  I'm not even that great at fiction so that makes the challenge all the more difficult but I figured I would at least give it a shot.

So, if I finish and think what I wrote is crap, I'll just trash it.  If I think there's some potential, I will continue working on it.  If I think it's good enough to self-publish but not sell, I might give away a few copies to those interested.  But, that's looking too far ahead.  I have to finish it first.

My Cintiq finally came in on Thursday.  I was excited but not as much as I was thinking I would be.  I guess I felt more relief than anything knowing it was finally here after waiting a month for it, not knowing when it would arrive.  I don't have a desk or software or a computer upgrade to use it yet, though, so it's still in the box in the living room.  My desk is expected to arrive some time next week so when that gets set up, I'll try to set up the Cintiq and I might hook it up to my old computer just to play around with it.  If my old computer can handle it.  It'll probably need to be totally cleaned out and then upgraded to accommodate all the software I'll need to use.  Just a couple of thousand more dollars.  No big deal.

Also, my cell phone carrier is being transitioned over to AT&T this month so I'm pretty excited about getting the iPhone because I'm a materialistic s.o.b.

So, a lot of stuff is happening this month.  I'll be busy with work and gearing up to start animating again and playing with my new phone and in my free time I'll be trying to pull a book out of my butt.  Also, my favorite band Showbread will release a brand new and free album later this month.  I, as well as several other people, received an advanced copy last night because I sent in a donation to help them fund the making of the album so now I have new music to listen to while all of this is going on.

Unfortunately, the thing I've been looking forward to the most is devouring the new Wisconsin six cheese pizza from Dominos after getting off work yesterday.  It was good, too.  My life is that sad.  I'll probably have diarrhea later.

But it was worth it.

Lumberjackass

More work shenanigans:

We had a poor excuse for a costume contest on the Friday and Saturday before Halloween.  I really enjoy dressing up for Halloween but once I stopped trick or treating and had no more Halloween parties to attend, there seemed no point in dressing up, especially when I'd just end up sitting in my room plowing through Doritos while watching a Night of the Demons marathon.  So, I thought the contest would be a good opportunity to find an awesome costume and impress and amuse the masses.  Well, the store manager didn't even announce the contest until Tuesday, leaving very little time to find anything decent.  So, I pretty much bought some clothes from the store and rigged myself up a lumberjack costume.  I even went out and bought some mud-stomping boots with no intention of wearing them outside of that occasion.  I also stopped shaving for that macho look.  Unfortunately, I couldn't find an axe but I thought I had done pretty well with the limited time and resources. 

So, imagine my lack of surprise when I go into work Friday morning in my flannel shirt, suspenders, cuffed jeans and chunky lesbian boots just to see that I was the only one dressed up.  It was a lot like showing up to class naked or...going into work dressed as a friggin' lumberjack.  I was out of place and I don't like that feeling.  I'm a blender.  Blend into crowds, blend into my surroundings.  Imagine everyone else in dress pants and floral tops while I'm harvesting trees in the men's department.  I was pretty ticked.  As you know, I'm self-conscious as it is and all I could think about was how all the customers were going to think I was weird.  I could just imagine an old woman turning to her friend and asking, "What is Paul Bunyan doing working here?"  So, I stripped off my suspenders and took off my boots and switched them with an extra pair of regular work shoes I had stashed away in my car just in case the boots uncomfortable.  While I looked slightly less lumberjack-like, I still looked completely ridiculous.

I should have known this would happen.  I had a sneaking suspicion I'd be alone in my garish garb when everyone I asked about dressing up said they weren't going to.

"Eh, I have a few ideas I'm throwing around."  (I don't have anything nor do I plan on having anything)

"Probably not, I don't have time to get anything."  (I'm too lazy to throw something together)

"You know, I just don't feel like it."  (I'm a boring whore)

Where's the Halloween spirit?  Where's the fun of dressing up and being silly and becoming someone or something else?  And people think I'm a grumpy old man.  At least I tried.

Although I did hear one girl would be dressing up.  So, I figured as long as I wasn't the only one, I'd be good.  Well, she didn't.  So I went to all that trouble for nothing.  I didn't even win the contest!  Oh well, I think I looked pretty snazzy, although I wasted quite a bit of money.  I went home after work and stayed in my outfit for the rest of the night because I didn't want it to go to waste.  I thought I'd try to squeeze as much use out of it as possible.  So, all in all, Halloween was another epic failure, if you don't include the awesomeness that was The Walking Dead premiere.  I watched it the first time plus the two encore presentations.  

 

Hi, I chop trees.

I also lay pipe.

Unveiling

"We never are what we intend, or invent
'Cause I make little lies and then I pull them apart
Think something dark's living down in my heart..."
-Brand New, At the Bottom

All of my life, I've been made to feel inferior.  Some of it was intentional.  Some of it was not.  Either way, the result was never feeling good enough.  Subconsciously, I've overcompensated for that feeling of inferiority by trying to perfect myself.  While my body and mind is a mess, my everything else has to be immaculate.  Everything I put out into the world has to represent perfection so no one knows what a piece of useless garbage I really am.  That's why I have great handwriting and keep my work so organized.  It's why I am polite and have tact.  It's why I offer good advice and listen intently.  It's why I made good grades and never got into trouble.  I walked the straight and narrow path because I thought that would make up for lacking confidence.  I never wanted to engage in any behavior that would raise eyebrows or set off whispers.  I've always acted in the best interest of others, never of myself.  I thought if I did everything that I believed was right, things would change, that I would feel good about myself.  If I followed the rules, it would pay off somehow, some day.

I have made it my life's work to take the route of the good and humble, to do good things and be a good person to everyone.

But where has that gotten me?

Nowhere.

My whole life has been a lie.  My outward feelings have been false.  My character is not truly me.  It's all been carefully crafted to create someone else, someone who would be good enough, someone worthy of acknowledgment instead of judgment.  I'm so preoccupied with being perfect that I'm not being anymore.  My looks are Photoshopped.  My attitude is artificially sweetened.  My words are romanticized.  Everything you've ever read, everything you thought you knew was wrong.  It was not an intentional misdirection or outright lie on my part.  It was merely me trying to mold myself into someone I thought was better than who I actually was.  All the rejection from so many people.  Finally, I followed everyone else's lead and rejected myself.  That rejection formed a resurrection into the good boy, artist, sensitive writer, non-drinker, non-smoker, Christian, vegetarian, people pleaser.  The reliable one.  The funny one.  None of that is me.  I've tried to cover up my true nature and did a pretty good job of it until everything began to unravel, events in my life unveiling the emptiness within.  There are no words that can soothe me, no touch that can restore me.  I am tired.  I am giving in to the terrible person that has always been there, hiding away under the layers of fat and feigned kindness. 

My entire being has been broken down and built back up with fabrications. All admirable efforts.  All failures.  Rejected again.  The worst part was it was all for nothing.

Consequently, I am nothing.

I am dead.

I am a monster.

I am nothing.

I am nothing.

Let me show you...