She knew it was only a silly daydream...*
Jan. 23rd, 2007 11:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bending_sickle...but it was a good daydream, and it comforted her.*
I feel like I've acomplished much, though it isn't really, when you look at it. However, the feeling of accomplishment is a welcome change.
As far as organizing my future, I've mostly filled out the Leiden application and have just sent an inquiry email to Radboud. This leaves Amsterdam, Vrije and Utrecht to deal with. Then I have to write an apologetic email to my two sorely-abused recommendation-letter-wrting profs, and beg yet another set from them.
Health-wise, I went to the pool yesterday again. :)
As for procrastination, I found the other YouTube links.
OUaTiM: Number One Crush
OUaTiM: Have a Nice Day
OUaTiM: Sands' Theme
JDepp: I Like the Way You Move
JDepp: Kids' Choice Awards
PotC: What Do You Do With a Drunken Sailor?
I also found a huge and useful film review blog, a list of book recomendations an info page of Montreal's (and McGill's) Arcade Fire, with two songs available for download, a huge quotes page, and a comm for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
mirrormaskmovie. Also, a reminder of Blue Monday (aka. year's unhappiest day). How'd it go?
But the main purpose of this post was to talk about the header quote and what it means to me. Yes, one of those introspective posts. Haven't done one of those in ages.
The first time I read this line, I felt like giving Neil a warm hug. (Not a big change from how I feel about Neil in general, admittedly.) The thing was that I recognized myself in that statement, and in having someone else so succintly state what I realized to be my inner workings made me feel somehow better about it all.
I day-dream all the time. My first forays into storytelling were though daydreams I'd sink into, tucked away in bed, before falling asleep. They were heavily visual, often to the point of dialogue being merely implied, a trait mirrored in my early writing. I played a lot with points of view, like an amateur cameraman. Later, I tried my hand at hearing the words I knew the characters were saying. Only recently has the focus shifted to their emotional workings. It seems like the logical form of evolution.
Of course, in those pre- and early-teen years, the stories were of a fantastical nature. Dragons, vampires and swashbuckling hero's sprang out from movie reels into invented adventures. The oldest of these, that I can remember, at least, featured events set in the film The Island of Dr. Moreau. I'd needed to explore the world of the half-humans from their pov. Some even heavily MarySue-ish, by today's fandom standards: cue tragic figure of a young girl with no history, no ties, remerkably self-suficient and independent yet always a step away from breaking. Thinking about the scraps of images I've conserved of some story lines, they were maninly concerned with the initial steps taken to belong to a group, as well as some intrinsic factor that made the girl special. I suppose I'm not the first to have these daydreams.
Through my university years, these little movie reels abandoned their fantasy origins and started settling themselves into the real world. There were, of course, still flights of fancy, but the laws of logic started to lay a hand. The stories started to become mundane. It was around this time that the girl in the stories grew up and took on a more physical presence, as opposed to being merely a presence. She litterally took the wheel in one series of escapism-scenes as she drove accross the country, giving orders and saving the day with gusto. The poor lass even got a name, occasionally.
The worlds, and events, of the scenes have diminished as the focus shifted to emotions and intentions. Instead of running through forests, flying over rooftops, or driving down a highway, the action became more contrained in houses and rooms. People talked more, their actions became more vivid, more real. Plot-points disappeared as I focused more on just who these people were, what they would say, and how they would react in the simplest of situations. I began to explore emotions, stressors, reactions. Two people stuck in traffic speaking to a third on speaker phone became a realm of endless possibilities.
Not only have I worked through a lot of emotions with these musings, but I've obtained compfort or release with them. Need to finish a good cry but fresh out of tears? Need to scream at the top of your lungs? Need to pour your heart out and have someone listen just they way you need them to?
Think it. Feel it. Vividly.
And it works, too.
Go ahead, imagine yourself laughing. Think of a chuckle, a guffaw, a belly-jiggling giggle. Try and not crack a smile at the thought.
* NGaiman, Ananzi Boys
I feel like I've acomplished much, though it isn't really, when you look at it. However, the feeling of accomplishment is a welcome change.
As far as organizing my future, I've mostly filled out the Leiden application and have just sent an inquiry email to Radboud. This leaves Amsterdam, Vrije and Utrecht to deal with. Then I have to write an apologetic email to my two sorely-abused recommendation-letter-wrting profs, and beg yet another set from them.
Health-wise, I went to the pool yesterday again. :)
As for procrastination, I found the other YouTube links.
OUaTiM: Number One Crush
OUaTiM: Have a Nice Day
OUaTiM: Sands' Theme
JDepp: I Like the Way You Move
JDepp: Kids' Choice Awards
PotC: What Do You Do With a Drunken Sailor?
I also found a huge and useful film review blog, a list of book recomendations an info page of Montreal's (and McGill's) Arcade Fire, with two songs available for download, a huge quotes page, and a comm for
mirrormaskmovie. Also, a reminder of Blue Monday (aka. year's unhappiest day). How'd it go?But the main purpose of this post was to talk about the header quote and what it means to me. Yes, one of those introspective posts. Haven't done one of those in ages.
The first time I read this line, I felt like giving Neil a warm hug. (Not a big change from how I feel about Neil in general, admittedly.) The thing was that I recognized myself in that statement, and in having someone else so succintly state what I realized to be my inner workings made me feel somehow better about it all.
I day-dream all the time. My first forays into storytelling were though daydreams I'd sink into, tucked away in bed, before falling asleep. They were heavily visual, often to the point of dialogue being merely implied, a trait mirrored in my early writing. I played a lot with points of view, like an amateur cameraman. Later, I tried my hand at hearing the words I knew the characters were saying. Only recently has the focus shifted to their emotional workings. It seems like the logical form of evolution.
Of course, in those pre- and early-teen years, the stories were of a fantastical nature. Dragons, vampires and swashbuckling hero's sprang out from movie reels into invented adventures. The oldest of these, that I can remember, at least, featured events set in the film The Island of Dr. Moreau. I'd needed to explore the world of the half-humans from their pov. Some even heavily MarySue-ish, by today's fandom standards: cue tragic figure of a young girl with no history, no ties, remerkably self-suficient and independent yet always a step away from breaking. Thinking about the scraps of images I've conserved of some story lines, they were maninly concerned with the initial steps taken to belong to a group, as well as some intrinsic factor that made the girl special. I suppose I'm not the first to have these daydreams.
Through my university years, these little movie reels abandoned their fantasy origins and started settling themselves into the real world. There were, of course, still flights of fancy, but the laws of logic started to lay a hand. The stories started to become mundane. It was around this time that the girl in the stories grew up and took on a more physical presence, as opposed to being merely a presence. She litterally took the wheel in one series of escapism-scenes as she drove accross the country, giving orders and saving the day with gusto. The poor lass even got a name, occasionally.
The worlds, and events, of the scenes have diminished as the focus shifted to emotions and intentions. Instead of running through forests, flying over rooftops, or driving down a highway, the action became more contrained in houses and rooms. People talked more, their actions became more vivid, more real. Plot-points disappeared as I focused more on just who these people were, what they would say, and how they would react in the simplest of situations. I began to explore emotions, stressors, reactions. Two people stuck in traffic speaking to a third on speaker phone became a realm of endless possibilities.
Not only have I worked through a lot of emotions with these musings, but I've obtained compfort or release with them. Need to finish a good cry but fresh out of tears? Need to scream at the top of your lungs? Need to pour your heart out and have someone listen just they way you need them to?
Think it. Feel it. Vividly.
And it works, too.
Go ahead, imagine yourself laughing. Think of a chuckle, a guffaw, a belly-jiggling giggle. Try and not crack a smile at the thought.
* NGaiman, Ananzi Boys
