I did it! I broke the PPC! I was packed before midnight! Now I just have to clean up my mess (mostly old receipts) and then go to bed. But I have to get up in two hours, so I'm wondering if I should just stay up and make sure we get going on time rather than go to sleep and possibly be late.
I'm so nervous about this flying thing. I'm not sure if it's am excited-nervous, or a scared-nervous. Right now, I'm leaning towards scared. And hungry. I'm insanely hungry.
Bon Voyage! Wish me luck!
--Soren, out.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Gonna Go Far, Kid
Today I am packing. It's noon, and I haven't really done anything yet. I have a system:
1. Tell yourself you have a whole day, and that's plenty of time, so don't worry about rushing the packing.
2. Watch a few movies. Or TV. Or read a book. Or play with your cat. Or surf the net. In other words, Procrastinate.
3. Start to think about packing around dinner.
4. Start packing after the kids go to bed and realize you had more to pack than you originally thought.
5. Realize that room in your bag is running out.
6. Panic.
7. Stay up until it's time to go packing. Finish the packing process by the skin of your teeth.
8. Enjoy a well-packed trip!
In case you're wondering, yes I've tried to break the PPC (Packing-Panic-Cycle)...but I always end up following it anyway. Today, I choose to embrace it! And maybe give myself incentive to go pack up my bathroom stuff, at least. Maybe. After some lunch.
Yeah, it ain't gettin' packed til I'm ready to panic.
--Soren, out.
1. Tell yourself you have a whole day, and that's plenty of time, so don't worry about rushing the packing.
2. Watch a few movies. Or TV. Or read a book. Or play with your cat. Or surf the net. In other words, Procrastinate.
3. Start to think about packing around dinner.
4. Start packing after the kids go to bed and realize you had more to pack than you originally thought.
5. Realize that room in your bag is running out.
6. Panic.
7. Stay up until it's time to go packing. Finish the packing process by the skin of your teeth.
8. Enjoy a well-packed trip!
In case you're wondering, yes I've tried to break the PPC (Packing-Panic-Cycle)...but I always end up following it anyway. Today, I choose to embrace it! And maybe give myself incentive to go pack up my bathroom stuff, at least. Maybe. After some lunch.
Yeah, it ain't gettin' packed til I'm ready to panic.
--Soren, out.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Scream Like a Banshee
I've been having the dreams again. The scary ones where I know I'm going to die. This time I was with my family, and my Grandpa (the one still living) and his...girlfriend, partner, whatever (I don't like her much) are sitting with us, and for some reason get into an argument with my parents, and they say a Chinese phrase (I've forgotten it) which meant something like "Inevitable Death", meaning one of us children had to die.
Rather then let them take my brother, I gave myself up to die. So a noose appeared in the dream living room where everyone was sitting. During the dream, I was running around, sometimes feeling the noose around my neck, trying to find a way out of this death. Nothing worked. There were no solutions, no answers. I had to die.
There's always terror in these dreams, and I feel the terror days after I have the dreams. Right now, I'm so scared. The dreams are so real. I try to look up the meanings of them, but they don't fit. Nothing in my life relates to these dreams at all. None of my stresses, none of my worries. Normally I don't worry if I'm going to be sentenced to death by family, or shot in the head, or in the back, or slashed, or any of the other deaths that I've dreamed. Maybe I need to see a shrink or something. I don't know what to do. If I try telling my parents about them, I feel stupid, because it comes out sounding trivial. And they're so busy with other stuff, they don't want to hear about some stupid little dream. But these dreams make me want to cry.
I have looked death in the face, and I am a coward.
--Soren, out.
Rather then let them take my brother, I gave myself up to die. So a noose appeared in the dream living room where everyone was sitting. During the dream, I was running around, sometimes feeling the noose around my neck, trying to find a way out of this death. Nothing worked. There were no solutions, no answers. I had to die.
There's always terror in these dreams, and I feel the terror days after I have the dreams. Right now, I'm so scared. The dreams are so real. I try to look up the meanings of them, but they don't fit. Nothing in my life relates to these dreams at all. None of my stresses, none of my worries. Normally I don't worry if I'm going to be sentenced to death by family, or shot in the head, or in the back, or slashed, or any of the other deaths that I've dreamed. Maybe I need to see a shrink or something. I don't know what to do. If I try telling my parents about them, I feel stupid, because it comes out sounding trivial. And they're so busy with other stuff, they don't want to hear about some stupid little dream. But these dreams make me want to cry.
I have looked death in the face, and I am a coward.
--Soren, out.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
But Who Cares? No Big Deal, I Want More!
A Book List
For Glo
Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow
by Jessica Day George
Paranormalcy
by Kiersten White
The Storyteller's Daughter
by Cameron Dokey
Divergent
by Veronica Roth
Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch
by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
Across the Universe
by Beth Ravis
The Book Thief
by Markus Zusack
Writing Magic
by Gail Carson Levine
Dragon Slippers
by Jessica Day George
Mistborn
by Brandon Sanderson
The Hunger Games
by Suzanne Collins
Song of the Sparrow
by Lisa Ann Sandell
I reckon this is a pretty good list for now. Read on, Glo! Read on!
--Soren, out.
For Glo
Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow
by Jessica Day George
Paranormalcy
by Kiersten White
The Storyteller's Daughter
by Cameron Dokey
Divergent
by Veronica Roth
Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch
by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
Across the Universe
by Beth Ravis
The Book Thief
by Markus Zusack
Writing Magic
by Gail Carson Levine
Dragon Slippers
by Jessica Day George
Mistborn
by Brandon Sanderson
The Hunger Games
by Suzanne Collins
Song of the Sparrow
by Lisa Ann Sandell
I reckon this is a pretty good list for now. Read on, Glo! Read on!
--Soren, out.
Today I Don't Feel Like Doing Anything
No, really.
Today I stayed in what I slept in until around 3:15, when I had to go down the road to pick up my brother from the bus (which forgot to let him off, so I was stuck there for an hour wondering where the heck he was). I should do dishes. I should do laundry. I should at least make up my bed.
Have I done it? No.
Why haven't I done it? I just don't care. That pretty much describes how I've been feeling for the past couple of weeks: I don't care. I am completely apathetic about everything. And then other people talk to me. And I don't care enough about my own problems, let alone theirs.
Disclaimer: This post isn't directed towards or talking about anyone in particular. It's just a general statement about everyone. Don't get offended.
The only emotion I feel strong enough is something akin to anger. But only when I'm listening to songs that help me feel that. Which really, could be anything.
Really, my life could be summed up in Empty, by Ray LaMontagne. Which just so happens to be the first song that plays on my playlist (for now).
The mellowness, the last verse, the general vibe of the song. Yup. That's me right now. Maybe it'll change when I go to college and get a life.
Until then....yeah, I've got no advice. Enjoy your life. What's left of it.
--Soren, out.
Today I stayed in what I slept in until around 3:15, when I had to go down the road to pick up my brother from the bus (which forgot to let him off, so I was stuck there for an hour wondering where the heck he was). I should do dishes. I should do laundry. I should at least make up my bed.
Have I done it? No.
Why haven't I done it? I just don't care. That pretty much describes how I've been feeling for the past couple of weeks: I don't care. I am completely apathetic about everything. And then other people talk to me. And I don't care enough about my own problems, let alone theirs.
Disclaimer: This post isn't directed towards or talking about anyone in particular. It's just a general statement about everyone. Don't get offended.
The only emotion I feel strong enough is something akin to anger. But only when I'm listening to songs that help me feel that. Which really, could be anything.
Really, my life could be summed up in Empty, by Ray LaMontagne. Which just so happens to be the first song that plays on my playlist (for now).
The mellowness, the last verse, the general vibe of the song. Yup. That's me right now. Maybe it'll change when I go to college and get a life.
Until then....yeah, I've got no advice. Enjoy your life. What's left of it.
--Soren, out.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Airplanes
Packing, packing, packing. That's what I'm doing. In my head, at least. I still have a week and a half before I leave. I can't wait! But at the same time, I'm insanely nervous! Why, you ask?
I've never flown in a plane before.
It's true! Whenever I went somewhere, it was always with my family, and we always drove (can you imagine the money it would take for a family of nine to fly anywhere?) and so I never had a reason to fly in a plane. So now I get to ride in a plane for the first time in my life all alone.
In all honesty, the plane ride doesn't scare me so much. I'll probably just sleep through it. It's the layover that gets me. Lots of people running around, and that nagging that I always get when I'm doing something new that I am doing it wrong, or I've got the wrong gate, or I've missed the next plane, and then comes the panic, and then comes the hyperventilation, and then the frantic phone calls to my mother.
I'm trying to avoid all that.
Bag of peppermints for calming my freaking-out-sense down? Check.
A good book to read while waiting for the next plane/bus/whatever? Check.
iPod movies to watch while I fly? Check.
Tablet to play on while waiting again in the airport? Check.
Confidence to be able to do it on my own? Loading....
--Soren, out.
I've never flown in a plane before.
It's true! Whenever I went somewhere, it was always with my family, and we always drove (can you imagine the money it would take for a family of nine to fly anywhere?) and so I never had a reason to fly in a plane. So now I get to ride in a plane for the first time in my life all alone.
In all honesty, the plane ride doesn't scare me so much. I'll probably just sleep through it. It's the layover that gets me. Lots of people running around, and that nagging that I always get when I'm doing something new that I am doing it wrong, or I've got the wrong gate, or I've missed the next plane, and then comes the panic, and then comes the hyperventilation, and then the frantic phone calls to my mother.
I'm trying to avoid all that.
Bag of peppermints for calming my freaking-out-sense down? Check.
A good book to read while waiting for the next plane/bus/whatever? Check.
iPod movies to watch while I fly? Check.
Tablet to play on while waiting again in the airport? Check.
Confidence to be able to do it on my own? Loading....
--Soren, out.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
You Can't Keep a Good Dog Down
We have a dog.
Just for clarification, I hate dogs. I can't stand them. Especially small dogs. All they do is smell, and they pant all the time and it's really loud and it sounds like they're hyperventilating, and they go poop in the yard, and they're not very cuddly, not like a cat. They don't purr, they don't figure things out like a cat does (which can be both a blessing and a curse), and they're just...ich. Give me an independent cat over a dependent, slobbery, smelly dog any day.
We now have a little Shih Tzu named Remy. He is a dog. I hate dogs.
This dog is starting to grow on me.
But I still hate dogs.
--Soren, out.
Just for clarification, I hate dogs. I can't stand them. Especially small dogs. All they do is smell, and they pant all the time and it's really loud and it sounds like they're hyperventilating, and they go poop in the yard, and they're not very cuddly, not like a cat. They don't purr, they don't figure things out like a cat does (which can be both a blessing and a curse), and they're just...ich. Give me an independent cat over a dependent, slobbery, smelly dog any day.
We now have a little Shih Tzu named Remy. He is a dog. I hate dogs.
This dog is starting to grow on me.
But I still hate dogs.
--Soren, out.
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