Coffee Shop

So, here I am. Sitting in Starbucks, blogging. It's weird how easy it is to write when you know that no one else gives a shit about what you're doing on your computer because their too busy doing whatever it their doing on their computers. LOL That was a dumb sentence.The only downside to sitting in here is that I am reeeaaallllly tempted to buy a coffee or something. It's such a pleasant atmosphere. I wish I had a little coffee shop, not necessarily Starbucks, near me at my house. One I could just drop in to at any time and chill.Not to say I can't chill at my own house, but it's just more fun to do it somewhere else. Somewhere I don't have to worry about my friends or family needing something. Somewhere that I can people watch, and sip coffee and let the voices of my guys talk to me in their own pace. Usually I'm rushing them, or prodding them to speak and when you do that, they don't sound genuine. It just sounds...quick. And writing, novel writing, doesn't respond well to that rushed thing. They get kind of mad. At least, my guys do. They get all grumbly and warrior like. Actually, it's almost childlike. But only some of them do that. Some of them are willing to talk whenever I need them too. And others still only talk when they want to, so when they do I have to jot down some notes before they either stop or I forget. It's kind of hectic. I wish I could designate the times they talked. I could try to set a time to encourage them. Like If I sat down every other day at four o clock and set my fingers on the keys, maybe they would get the hint after a while that I'm willing to set aside time to listen to them.
Not to say that I'm not. Because I love listening to whatever they have to say, whenever they feel the urge to say it. I love talking with them. It spices up my otherwise boring life. Anyway, I ought to use this time to actually listen to the guys, instead of blogging.

Speak softly, Listen forever,

Sacred Secret

Streaming...1, 2, 3...

This time, I don't have a prompt. There's nothing in particular that I want to say. I just thought I should blog to waste some time. I'm sitting in the Library. Waiting on Sweetness. I didn't bring my laptop, so I can't write. I haven't moved my writing to a flash drive yet. I could read my book, but I don't really want to. I could be doodling, or writing random stuff. But its rare that you get a computer in the Library so I'm just gonna chill here until I can't think of anything else to do.
I know what I should be doing. I should be in ASL right now. But I've missed a week and a half of that class, and I will be SO lost when I go back, that I just...I just don't want to. Do you ever get that displaced feeling like you're walking into a room of people that know each other really well? I do. All the time. Even if I know I'm walking into a place where no one knows anyone. I just feel like everyone has a friend somewhere and I am alone. My social ties are so skewed. Sweetness is really my only link to the "outside". Other than her, if it weren't for my occasional access to the internet I think I'd be considered a Hermit.
I can't say I really mind though. lol I know Sweetness doesn't. I enjoy staying at home and playing Video games and listening to Sweetness tell me about her day. I tend to take the masculine role in the relationship, but there is hardly anything I enjoy more than staying home and waiting for her to come back. I don't really like to get up every morning and go out into the world. I'd rather go at night, when no one is around except the occasional person, who, like me is expecting hardly a soul to be out. I think I'm gonna need to work the night shift! Except, Sweetness would have to sleep alone, and we can not have that. Sweetness tends to have bad dreams when she sleeps alone, and I hate it when I can't console her. It makes me feel awful.
Now that I think about it, I probably define "awful" differently than you do. I think of it more like a sense of failure than a real emotion. It's hard for me to describe emotions or feelings at all. I know I have them, Sweetness says I do. But I feel more apathetic than everyone else. Sweetness worries about everyone, she's very generous that way, and she experiences sadness and pain and joy and elation. I...don't. I just don't. I don't think I feel things the same way.
I know. I know. You're thinking "DUH! No one feels or thinks the same way!" But thats not what I mean.
I'm saying I don't think I feel. I don't acknowledge emotions, and the ones I'm forced to acknowledge I resent. I abhor feeling anger. That is the one I hate the most. It is a useless emotion, that gets you nowhere. It's only use is violence and I don't particularly believe in the use of that either. The other emotion I hate? Sadness. I feel it occasionally. As you know, I loathe crying. I do it more now, and I feel like I have Sweetness to blame. Stupid things are making me tear up. I don't understand. And not necessarily "tear up" that isn't the right one. Its just that stupid sting in your sinuses, you know? Kind of like you're going to sneeze, but it shoots up into you're eyes instead.
Obnoxious.
I shove these emotions away. I do it quickly and effectively. The only way my methods fail is if it has something to do with Sweetness. She unravels all of my defenses and drops them at my feet like they never existed in the first place. So I'm beginning to get the hint that I should just stop trying. But since I've grown up this way, with a barriers in place against everything and everyone, its extremely difficult to break them down myself.
I have barriers up around everyone. No one gets too close, except for those that bulldoze their way in. The moment that person betrays me, however...Barrier. You're no longer within my inner gates. And it's going to take you a very long time to get back in. Sweetness has made it to the inner walls I think, and she's chipping away at the final wall. The last thing keeping me from being insane about her.

That is dangerous.

I can't allow myself to get that tied up into Sweetness. Don't get me wrong. I love and adore my Sweetness. She is a brilliant light in my life that I respect and admire. I always have. I would do anything for her, willingly or not. And there is nothing I would not get for her if she asked. Matter of fact, I have a running list of things I plan to get for her as soon as I get a job. An Apartment being top on the list.
Yes, I do toss in the occasional thing for myself. A game, a pair of pants, food. Whatever. But most of my earnings will go toward whatever she wants. I'm in that deep.
But I cannot allow myself to get in any deeper. I won't. Especially if I know that Sweetness will want to marry a man someday, and have a "traditional" family. She wants kids and some dogs in a relatively large house. With a fence and a large backyard. She probably wants a pool, too. But I will never be able to provide those things for her. I know this. I've come to terms with it. And I know, on the inside, she has too. And of course it will hurt when we part, but we'll never stop loving each other, or being around each other. It will just mean that this section of our lives has come to a close. I do not look forward to this day. And yet...I do. I hope to see Sweetness get married in the wedding of her dreams to a man she trusts and loves. That would make me happy. Because it would make her happy. I'll stand by her side until I can't stand anymore. And then I'll kneel.
There's something about her that keeps me hanging on. I can't explain it.
Anyway, you're probably more than done listening to me talk about Sweetness and my heartsick self. I'm going to go upstairs and read or something now.

Have a wonderful day. And make sure the one you love, knows how much.
Sacred Secret

Artists

So, my Sweetness is an artist. Do you know what that means? It means she's a wonderfully creative, brilliant, visual learner with amazing skills with her hands through various mediums. It also means, she's the world's harshest critic. Artists are the most intense set of people I have ever come to know. And that's just by saying, compared to the Writer's Circle. Not to say that they are particularly friendly either. But Artists? They do everything they can to create perfection, but as I'm sure you know, perfection cannot be obtained. It cannot be created, or seen, or done. Perfection does not and can not exist.

Artists are going to try their damnedest though.

I have watched her slave away for hours over just one project, just so at the end she can look over at me and say "I hate it." I can't help but look at this incredible work of art she has been working on and stare at her incredulously. How can she hate it? If I could do something like that! I would worship my hands! Hell, if I could somehow manage to get them to cooperate long enough to improve my hand writing I'd jump for joy. But this is not the case. She makes beautiful drawings, sketches, paintings. Now she is trained in computer graphics and the visuals she makes are just as brilliant. I've watched her dabble in sculpting too and she's pretty freaking good at that!
But to an Artist, it isn't good enough. There is nothing in this world that will make their work "good" to them, in their eyes. And it depresses me.
I look at all the "flaws" of the work and see that it gives it character. There's a wrinkle, or a smudge, or a fingerprint? Fine. That's wonderful. Becasue it shows the piece as a piece itself and not just something you did. Maybe this is just from a Writer's point of view, but I want people to see the work for the work, and then see it as I wanted them to see it. If I write something and think to myself "I want people to think this is a story about garbage" and then read the reviews and hear "its a story like romeo and juliette!" Then thats wonderful.
Why would I not want to send it off and hear what people think?
Isn't that the point of creating? To give your work life, whatever life may fill it, and send it off into the world? Much like raising a child, you can only do so much before there is nothing else you can do. You have to let the work take it's course, otherwise it won't come out at all.
Prose needs to be coaxed, to be sweet-talked out of your mind and fingers. It needs to be lured with promises and smiles, and sugary treats. I feel like all creation is like that. You can't lure a carving out of a piece of wood by yelling at it. You have to ease the knife down the wood, play it like a fine instrument. The same should be true with a painting or a sketch, or a work of poetry. Even if the emotion you're feeling, the one that inspired you to begin the piece is harsh or quick or frightening in its intensity, you can't show that to the piece.
You cannot show a child a scene of their parent in distress, it will stress the child. You must ease the child into believing that there is nothing wrong at all. They will come to learn more easily, less traumatically. This gives you the result you're looking for. The child is aware, but calm, and you're conveyed emotion is correct. With a piece of artwork you have to be calm on the outside, even if you are raging war in the inside.
Creation is the most intense form of meditation.
Unfortunately, Sweetness is very, very bad at meditation. But she is a brilliantly wonderful Artist. How can I go about helping her be not quite so harsh with herself? It breaks my heart to see her rip down everything she's worked so hard on. I just wish there was something I could do about it.

If you have any advice on the matter, it would be greatly apperciated.


Oh, and by the way, Happy Anniversary, Sweetness. :)

Sacred Secret