bending_sickle | If I'd fall, would you pick me up?*

Back from dance class, freezing my ass off despite it being *checks clock* 24 degrees in the room. I was a horrible uncoordinated mess - more so than normal - but it was still fun. I took the long way home (in that I went in the complete opposite direction) and stopped into the grocery for food. I went out with butter and, for the second time in that supermarket, could not find any chicken. The meat section, yes, but not the chicken. Fail.

I talked to mom, who's back at home now. She went on and on about how the Netherlands has the lowest unemployment records in all Europe, and how see, other people can find a job and the hints that I should be gainfully employed now, at at the very least swamped with choices, were big. This after me telling her the search so far has been fruitless. It was strange how I found myself wishing I could be talking to my dad instead. (All right, so she was tired and in a bad mood, but she should be able to control herself enough to not rant at me about dad, or suddenly burst into tears because I've not gotten a job yet - it's only been 2 weeks!)

I've been writing down my dreams again, noting where certain images come from or noticing repeated emotions. This lead me to wanting to write about daydreams, which I think are much easier to analyze in terms of "What the hell's going on in Sickle's psyche?" Let's have at it then.

This article, on the positive effects of daydreaming, says it helps to 1) relax, 2) manage conflict, 3) maintain relationships, 4) boost productivity, 5) cement your beliefs and values and 6) boost creativity and achieve goals. Setting aside that the article's examples are all real-life daydreaming (as in, thinking about people or situations you know, or about the past, and so on), I'll agree with them. I think personally I'm more of a 1, 2 and 6 daydreamer. If 5 were explore rather than cement, I'd be that, too.

I daydream. A lot. Have done for years and years. Most of the daydreams have nothing to do with real life or even myself. They're just random scenes strung together by plot that is often entirely fictional. Years back, the main point-of-view character was, let's face it, a Mary Sue. Not the sparkly kind, though - the angst and woe-ridden kind. Still, Mary Sue it was, not that I identified with the character.

And back then, when I was young, the daydreams would involve adventures and discovery of self, taking charge of the latest ridiculous fantasy or science fiction situation and galavanting about defeating ninjas or whatever was at hand.

It took a long time for me to identify with the point-of-view (POV), to bring in some reality to the stories, rein in some of the madness. Reading fanfiction really helped do this, because it made me aware of storytelling and made me see what my own stories were doing, or failing to do. (Sometimes I still wonder whether I could turn these into stories, or whether I could just write them out as they are, with no apologies, because sometimes the stories aren't half bad, despite the crack.)

But regardless of this, I still use the daydreams to cope, in one way or another. I use them to work through emotions, or indulge in emotions that are getting rusty, or practice justifying opinions and wording discussions. Sometimes the plot points I come up with - or fall into, more like, because I don't really consciously decide on the situation, but rather just live through it and try to make good decisions - may reflect something I'm going through, or something I'm lacking, or might, upon analysis, hint at something I wasn't even aware of. There are trends, of course: blindness, insanity, rants, trapped-in-elevator, domestic-bliss, and so on.

So let's see how the past year in Sicklepsyche's been, shall we? Obviously, X and all the other letters stand for many different faces with different reactions to POV. I mean, this is personal enough without me writing the whole thing out in detail. I know what the details mean.

Early 2009: In X universe, strapped in an exorcism chair facing X, Y and/or Z, trying to convince them of my humanity. Unpleasantness ensues.

Mid 2009: Insane in a solitary cell at a psych ward. Later comforted by X pretending to be Y, but POV knows the difference. Plays along anyway. Hugs ensue.

Late summer 2009: Blind, but coping. Tourist in city, attend event, draw unwanted attention due to whatever medical condition is causing the blindness also doing other nasty things (migraines, spasms, whatever). Meet and talk with X at a coffee shop. Lots of talking and intelligent discussion. Move in with X on flimsy hurt-comfort excuses. Domestic bliss and accomplishments ensue.

Winter 2009: Trapped in elevator with X. Hold intelligent discussions. (No zombiepocalypse this time, which is a nice change from the last elevator scene.)

Early 2010: Appear in the nick of time to save X by using occasionally life-savingly-conveniet yet uncontrollable universe-jumping condition.

POV and X both end up in zombiepocalypse. Unpleasantness ensues of the hurt-comfort kind, with hurt going uncomforted or later offered very little comfort. In fact, X is notable for really not doing anything but be stoic. A lot of road-trip situations, or holing up in abandoned places, or confusion over who's taking care of whom or whether either needs it. Camaraderie unfolds regardless.

Universe-jump again to rescue Y from prison, although Y is hostile to both POV and X. Trek through the woods. Further slight camaraderie with X.

Universe-jump to X's universe without the X that POV's been developing a rapport. Specifically, end up in enclosed vehicle with X and Y and spend time trying to convince them POV bears them no ill intentions - which includes convincing them to not hurt POV - and trying not to spill the beans about X's imminent death in order to prevent a paradox. (Although POV is wondering whether Ah, fuck it might not be the best response to paradoxes.) Time is spend sitting, waiting, panicking or losing it in a corner as X and Y continue with the plot.

So my psyche has been desperately starved for conversation and feeling rather certifiable this past year. Lately, it seems to be trying to take control and not be the victim, but the savior, although the one it's saving isn't being too thankful about it and getting the psyche into situations it would rather not. Still, closed-off company is better than none, right? The psyche's feeling trapped - in small confines, in universes - trying to defend its actions, decisions, its very existence.

Quote of the Day: BBC News, regarding Ashes to Ashes' third and final season (here) - \o/ YES!