A Double-Plus Dose of Rambling [journal]

I can command music, but I am partly mute to speak it on my own. It is the only thing that completely understands me, slows down for me, listens to me. Many a late hour I have spent along with patient music, it drawing me into conversation. In its presence I dream, I move, I sleep, I write. It is always there when I ask it to be there.
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Now is the time to prepare to fight again. Attack and advance, strike harder and faster. Let the halls ring with our battle cries.
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Day by day all I'm becoming is more and more of a night owl, one who tortures herself by not resting even when her hands demand it, and one who tortures herself by never surrendering in a fight.

In actuality, this late night-ness must be, in a way, still torture, since I do get tired (in fact I'm tired most of the day) but I'm extremely restless at night not in a "too much energy" way, but in a "can't make myself go to bed" way, even though I'm so tired I fall asleep almost instantly.
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I feel all heavy like I'm being dragged down with rocks tied to my feet or something. And I want Hell ramen.
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Uncomfortable is the word I'd have to use to describe the feeling I have about the number of enemies I'll probably end up making by this time next year.
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Now knowing how I feel about going back to school is driving me nuts. It's all sorts of fear and terror mixed up in one and I can't take them apart to name them.

It's different than anticipating going back to high school because more and more will be left behind, and more and more will be there to discover. There will be dreams of adventures and social lives I will never have, challenges both unexpected and voluntary, and things that will work funny magic on my brain and make me do things that I don't want to do. Most of all, though, is the multitude of battles I will be fighting on all fronts. Against others I fight the wars against drunkenness and the way the work world operates, and I have to fight for grades. But getting the grades is a war against myself too, and I also have to fight my fear, my evils, and fight for the expression of myself. I have to fight fatigue, fight everything that is tearing my body and spirit apart.
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And I fight because I want myself to know that I am capable of acting in such a way to defend myself. The fight, or, knowing that I fight, helps give me purpose and helps me sleep. Like in reality, there is always a war, never peace (unfortunately).
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Slowly I shall expire, all but defeated, and in so many ways. Struggle is fruitless, yet so necessary.
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Believe in myself? What is there to believe?
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Countdown to Hell...begins now. Tomorrow I choose posters, select textbooks, prepare one large box. Art supplies. Note to use newspaper as door mat/shoe mat. Goal: to achieve "wow, you have so much space in your room!" effect again, but with fixed furniture. I'll tell you what, it's not really all that difficult to achieve. Just keep things in boxes/trays rather than strew them all over the place.
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Knowledge is anxiety. The less I know, the less I am afraid. When I know even more next year, maybe I won't be so scared since I'd be going back to a familiar environment, but it could just as easily be the other way around.
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Countdown to Hell...continues. Tomorrow I continue filling up box. Goal: to have 3 fewer boxes than I brought home (to more than make up for the wooden chests).

I think that, slowly, it will become ever more difficult to find sleep.

These remaining days here are direly numbered. Just watch them disappear, evaporate, disintegrate, then walk into Hell with me, so I won't be so alone...
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I live without living, and die without dying. What has come before will come again, but stronger.

And I won't be back again for so long, if at all.
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A call to action resulting in inaction --
No incantation can stop the passage of time--
There must be something that can motivate me into action.--
Setting a timeline does me no good.--
Thus I lose the hours in idleness--
Knowing that there is nothing halting my slow descent into total debilitating madness--
As greater and greater evils overcome me.
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I cannot and will not guarantee my survival. I will make no predictions regarding anything concerning my goals, my results, or my condition.

No one can win my battles for me.
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...but he can help me fight them. However, as with all things, one cannot defend a cause in which he does not believe.

At this point, Hell be more a stranger than I first thought. Which means I walk into the unknown again -- well, not *quite* unknown, but I only know the basics: the shape, the form, but not a hint of the dynamics (compared to knowing a bit of the dynamics). Unfortunately, the dynamics is the delineating factor that will decide for me between survival and non-survival.
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This may be an unfortunate predicament, but it is yours to be borne. You have already made the choices which were available to you and all else has been, and must be, left for fate to decide. I have no choice; this is not my task. First impressions are everything. Prepare every word! Watch every step! Never let down your guard!

Can you spot the allusion?

Packing: The Downsizing
Moving: The Grumbling
Misery: The Beginning

These are all sub-nicks that I used on MSN, in order. Can you spot the allusion?

Stepping into Hell

The sound of the first honey-nut Cheerios hitting the bottom of my cereal bowl sounds like my cell phone.

After an extremely claustrophobic shower (yes, the shower space is a bit less than 1 square metre, and the water pressure is...amazing, and my eyes are a bit sensitive to water, and water gets all over the floor because of the water pressure,) (slightly) messy juice preparation (from frozen concentrate), some misplaced toys (including a desperate phone call to the parents at 2am), and tons of fitful sleeping, I'm awake at 6am because I have an 8am, all-day "class" which, from my information, sounds more like an "industry day" event or something. forgottenlord manages to wake up just enough to phone me to make sure I'm up.

Oh, by the way, forgottenlord, thanks SO much for helping me move in and settle down (as I believe you and I will continue to do so)!! I don't know how I could have survived my first day without you!!

The first charge I put on my meal card was for a fruit/yogurt popsicle. Avoid it. The fruit layer on the outside tastes good on its own, but with the yogurt, it tastes like the revolting product that is the result of some genius' idea to cross unstirred yogurt (syrup on bottom) with cottage cheese.

Last night may certainly have been a fitful night of sleep, but so was the night before that. The night before yesterday was worse. I went to bed at 11, but couldn't sleep until well past 1. Last night was lights out at 2, and probably around 2:35 when I fell asleep, but it sure felt longer. (If any of you readers are wondering, I estimate these times based on what I last remember hearing from the CD which I put on before bed, whatever music it is.)

Also, I'm not exactly sure if it was just a dream, or something in reality that got incorporated into the dream (don't really remember the dream now), but I thought I heard someone (likely intoxicated - OMG, story later) repeatedly trying his/her key in my door and (of course) not succeeding in opening it. There were a couple of BANGs too. Actually I'll go outside right now and see if there's any evidence of that having happened. Hm...nope.

My room number "sound[s] like a jumbo jet" (idea mine, quote forgottenlord), my Internet service hasn't been set up yet, other towers had parties, this tower had parties, there will definitely be more parties during the week, I think I may have succeeded (so far) at the "wow, there's so much space in your room" effect (well, these rooms have very ample storage space), the mattress is firm, this chair is too low (going to buy a cushion or two to remedy that), the circuit breaker of the electrical outlet in my bathroom 'clicks' if I have my computer on (should be fixed soon, hopefully).

Everything feels weird to me. This floor was a party floor last year, it seems, and I hope I can successfully avoid it this year. My room is close to the elevators so I won't be able to avoid hearing people coming down the hall (the fire doors do a pretty decent job of blocking the sound from the elevator lobby itself).

forgottenlord suggested a Tim Horton's' drink for breakfast but I don't know if I can do it. I don't know, now that I know what smelling like coffee at the end of a long day is like. But now I've finished my cereal and should go wash my bowl.

My fingers have hurt like Hell since last night :-(

And if you haven't figured out already, yes, I'm in Hell (Lister).