This CD holder has been with me since I was about 10, give or take a year. This thing has somehow managed to outlive most of the CDs it has contained over the years. It came with a book I ordered through the school book fair…I’m pretty sure it was a book about Nsync or something. Most of the CDs it first contained were Nsync CDs. There’s no accounting for the tastes of our youth, as listening through the Nickleback CDs it still contains has proven today. (I still enjoyed them though, goddamn it. I am at peace with who I am.)
Your glasses don't have to be straight to be cool.
The album to which I am referring was their debut album, self-titled She Wants Revenge
Floater legitimately have some really beautiful and interesting lyrics going on, even if I don’t like all of their music. They’re rad and you should check them out.
The “hangover” is shorthand for what I otherwise typically call “the novel writing version of postpartum depression.” Basically the experience is this: as a writer I’ve spent a lot of time and energy investing in the creation of this world and these characters and once I’ve finished the novel and these characters aren’t in my world every day…it’s really fucking sad. There’s this strange period of mourning that’s really hard to describe to someone who hasn’t experienced it, but by and large I find that other writers know exactly what I’m referring to when I say “the novel writing hangover.”
Relevant. Yoinked from here
I’ve been frustrated lately, in no small part because interacting with people has been hard generally. Staying with my parents has turned me into a crazy ball of stress, in addition to which I’m feeling more and more like the communication wires between myself and my various friends are just sort of…broken. I feel like I’m trying to make contact and it just keeps falling short somehow. I don’t want to say “I’m depressed” because that feels excessive, but “I’m isolated” and “I don’t know how to people [translation for those who don’t speak the inner-circle lingo: interact with people]” don’t seem to be communicating what I want them to communicate, and I don’t know how else to communicate what I want to without going balls to the wall about it and saying “I’m depressed.” Which still feels excessive. However, just being out the state seems to have lessened the pressure that this makes me feel…like a migraine that backs the fuck off, just a bit.
In addition to this frustration I’ve started writing a new story. It’s helped me move out of the hangover space and back into the furiously creating phase, which is a much nicer place to be. Most the human beings who really matter to me/care about me know about the existence of this story. It’s just shy of half a novel in length as of this writing and it’s a challenge for me on various fronts: the style is something I’ve never experimented with before and prior to this moment never even considered experimenting with, but it seems right for the story. Furthermore I’m having to keep very careful track of the time line as a result of the style, which is something I’ve never really bothered with too much in stories. And lastly I’m having to do real research for the first time in a long time: I’ve been reading blogs like this one to help me through the process of writing a story about a woman moving in with her partner of 3 going on 4 years who was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder at the age of 19.
With one exception I feel largely incapable of talking to people about this story, which feels…kind of awful? Especially considering how excited everyone I talked to about my last novel were so excited about it. I can’t tell if people are just generally disinterested in this premise (and if that’s the case, I would like to know why) or if they’re just over hearing about my writing endeavors. Either way it kind of accentuates that aforementioned feeling of isolation, but…what’s a girl to do?
Ultimately the first leg of the journey went more or less without a hitch. There were a couple glitches here and there made up primarily of 1) poorly marked merging lanes and 2) road-ragey ass-hats who don’t understand how the law of the road works. But at the end of the day I arrived at my aunt and uncle’s place in Sacramento whole and alive, for which I am incredibly thankful. Tomorrow it shall be onward to San Diego.