Goals

Kelli and I talked for 7 hours today.

She told me that she only wishes that she were as good a writer as I was, and while I don't actually think I'm all that awesome, it did get me thinking about my writing. I really enjoy writing, and used to do it everyday. I use to take time and make myself write, about anything. And usually the things that I wrote when I was stretching to find something, anything to write about were some of my best writings.

I miss writing like that.

I used to blog everyday. The earlies entries on this blog were not always about information that was needed to catch people up on what is going on in Amy's world, but were instead bright fresh meanderings in which you thought with me.

I miss writing like that too.

I used to sit and watch, write about those things that I saw or felt or thought. Writing that was an active process, and that the world around me was involved in as well as I was.

And guess what... I miss that as well.

The rest of my summer is supposed to be about getting myself ready for school. But when it comes down to it, there are some goals that I have set for myself, personally. I need to get back to finding the core of me. Unsurprisingly, I am not all that great at balance. I give 'it' my all, whatever 'it' is, and now is the time to balance that with getting back to those things that I find important, that I want to make time for, and that make me a more reflective and complex person. My writing is one of those things.

I know there are not many of you who read my words here, and I'm ok with that. But I feel as though I have things to share with you. Thoughts and processes that you could see if only I were to get back to what I know I can do: what I'm good at. If I would only open up and write. The last 2 years has been a lot about closing things down, changing to fit into a world that I don't easily understand. I have had to reinvint myself simply to be understood and fit in. But I miss the writing.

So I am setting myself a goal. For the next 30 days, I am going to write, everyday, about stuff. Things I see and hear, notice and feel. I am not going to write about things that are going on, those posts will ahve to be seperate and in addition. The next 30 days I am going to get back to the writing.

Wish me luck!

In Which Amy Follows Up on Civilization... (Myspace Blog)

You people suck. My very first post to this silly blog (oh, baby, don't worry - mama still loves you...) was about civilization. Had you been me, this is what you would have heard as you wrote it... goodAmy: Wow, this is so exciting! I'm going to write my thoughts and it is going to start a movement of critical discussion about interesting and deep concepts that will allow me to further my own ideas! badAmy: Shut up, you crazy beep! Noone wants to read this crap. Nobody cares! goodAmy: Oh, no, you are wrong... this is a call to unity! We will meet in solidarity and build community together, gleaning knowledge from one another and sharing ideas to incite change in ourselves! badAmy: Yea, right. Just keep fooling yourself. Nobody really gives a beep, you stupid crazy beep! goodAmy: You don't understand! We will use our conversations as a jumping off point towards creating change in ourselves and in our existances! We will look deeply into the meaning and reasoning behind our thoughts! It will be magical! badAmy: Whatever. Just don't come crying to me when nobody responds to your crazy rantings. Cuz that's all it is - crazy. I don't even want to listen - the only reason that I do is because I CAN'T GET AWAY FROM THE CRAZY THAT I HAVE TO SHARE A BRAIN WITH!! Needless to say, I don't particularly like badAmy, therefore it pains me to say that she was right. Noone cares (except me) about what civilization means. Or, if they do care, noone told me. So, fine. I don't care if you give me your thoughts and opinions or not. Hrmph. I'll do it all myself. So, without any help, this is my definition of civilization so far. Amys' (and noone else's) Definition of Civilization (as of 10-25-06) The social order, which is universally repressionistic, dominative, and controlling (in both positive and negative ways), that promotes culturalization and is directly the result of culturalization. It stems from the struggle against 'base nature', which is the need to rise above and be set apart from the animal. Now, do you feel bad? Are you suffering from a moment of guilt that I have been let down directly by you? Want to make me feel better about myself and make up for the damage that you have caused my inner psyche? Follow these directions: 1. Subscribe to this blog. DO IT! 2. Read and comment. In comment form. Where everyone can see. 3. Profess undying adoration to me. In comment form. Now. 4. Repeat steps 2 and 3 daily. That's it! That's all I expect from you to make me feel better - to instantly change me from a sullen girl to a bright, smiling, and happy one. You have the power... yeah, you're in control... (Shira Girl... look it up if you want... good song). Better do it quick, though, or I just cannot guarentee what I will do to myself as a result of my despair... Oh, and hey - if you really believe the preceding paragraph, I have a bridge I am willing to let go for really cheap. Just drop me a message if you are interested.

In Which Amy Finds the Lighter Side... (Myspace Blog)

The nightmare was one of those where I wake up with a jerk, adrenaline pumping. 'Creepy Guy' had hypnotized me and kidnapped me and thrown me into an oubliette, and I knew I was going to die because he wanted to wear my skin, and he was going to skin me alive, and I couldn't get out. An hour later, after writing it all down, thinking about it, and being grateful that it was "only a dream", I was still shaky. Two hours later, sitting in Chemistry, I was struggling to write because I was STILL shaky. And three hours later, sitting in English, the instructor brings in the frog. It is a skinned frog. Skinned and stuffed. It is holding a beer bottle as if it were guzzling it and it has been covered with shellac and I cannot imagine how on earth she can possible stand to touch it. She has named it Fred. I am creepily reminded of my dream... and instantly aware of the fact that my nightmare, at least in part, has come true for this frog. I wonder if 'Creepy Guy' would have shellacked me. She wants us to write about Fred- something funny. She almost sets the frog in front of me and I recoil, then explain the dream to her and the class. They stare at me blankly - maybe I am the ONLY person who has nightmares like this. But she does not set it in front of me after all. I am glad. I have to work to be funny, because I do not see anything funny about this frog... and then the glimmer appears. This is what I write: "I imagine him at a bar - Western. He needs a cowboy hat and chaps. He has been riding hard all day - Ooo... an outlaw! Yeah, shooting innocent women and children. He sidles up to the bar after slamming back the swinging doors. His spurs click as he walks with the bowfoot swagger. "Gimmie whiskey - the whole bottle!" His clothes and skin are brown from the dirt of the trail. He tips the bottle back and guzzles it, draining it dry then slamming it down like a gunshot - he has 2 pistols, 1 at each hip, slung low. He clinks to the poker table and pushes his way in, growling. The cantina girls do not approach, but he grabs the nearest and pulls her down onto his lap - her eyes are wide with fear. He growls to be dealt in. He cheats, a barfight erupts - he throws the cantina girl to the floor to fight." Not bad humour for such a crappy nightmare.