New feeling

I've discovered a new feeling. I don't know what to call it. I felt this way today.

When I feel this way, Everything must be out of order. It must be messy and uneven in order for me to be comfortable. I must be irresponsible and lazy to satisfy myself. It's a good thing that I was at school when I felt this. If I were at home, than I would surely have proceeded to throwing everything I have on the floor in a pile, and then proceed to lay in it. Because that's exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted nothing more than to be a lazy, irresponsible, completely messy bastard. Well, not a bastard, really. I didn't want to be mean to people - I just wanted to lay down in a filthy room - on the hard floor, not on the bed, of course - and listen to music. It didn't matter what music, although I mainly wanted something familiar for some reason. Yes, the music was very important. In Geometry, there was no music, let alone the familiar music that I have come to love (such as Modest Mouse), so I was extremely uncomfortable. Andrew and Sarah were insisting on straightening our row of desks, but I wanted to keep mine ajar to the side because, otherwise, I felt extremely anxious.

The cure - music. Laziness and music, exactly what the mood makes me feel like experiencing. On the bus, I put on a familiar album on my ipod and layed down on the seat until I got off in Little Washington. It worked. It cured me. Although the feeling wasn't really a bad feeling at all. It was strange. It felt like a nuetral feeling. Certainly, it made me feel much anxiety, but the anxiety that I was feeling was unique. It was a new feeling, and I enjoyed experiencing it. I've felt this way several times before, but it was at home and music was readily accesible, therefore remedying it easily.

I'm feeling this feeling slightly right now, though. Familiar music seems to be bringing it on.
I hope I can control it enough not to destroy my room. I really do want to, honestly. I can't explain it. And no amount af logical talking could talk me out of having this desire. I'm going to proceed now to making my room look like it was the product of a tornado. I will put on familiar music and a familiar, somewhat bizarre movie, and destroy my room.

I feel so fucking weird right now.

Numb

Fuck... I hate mothers...

I haven't posted in quite a while. So many things have happened, though. My feelings are confusing and more numb than usual. I spent some time with Daeriam. Some wonderful, wonderful time. I've been learning more and more on the guitar. The Social Workers left - finally those assholes are gone...

I haven't been in the mood to write recently. I've been too numb to feel any feeling strongly anymore. Even love is somewhat dimmed. I've always been able to distinguish my feelings and know how I feel. I've always known whether I was happy, sad, excited, bored... Every feeling had its specific boundaries, and I was so sure of everything. Right now, however, I don't even know how I feel. I know that there is a feeling deep down in there, but I can't identify it. It feels like something is masking it. It makes me feel numb, like I don't really have a feeling there, but deep down, I know that I do.

And I don't like feeling numb. Things have gone from good to bad, from wonderful to terrible to wonderful again, and I guess it's just worn down my ability to feel. And saying that sentence, for instance, brings about a sad feeling in me, but that sad feeling is distant - like a dream.

I wish I had more memory of my childhood. Yes, I am on a completely different topic now. Sometimes I do that, and I don't know how my brain could have possibly come to the topic when it has nothing to do with what was being discussed. But anyway, I wish I had more memory of my childhood. Yes, I know that I am still in my childhood, but I mean my young childhood. I've mentioned this, but my own phsyche has simply blocked out my memories, due to many of them being painful. Having experienced this bucket full of red pills now, however, I would very much like to have those memories so that I know everything. Why escape the matrix if you can't even fathom what goes on in the real world, right?

Last night, Mairead (back to the previous topic), I felt as though I wasn't feeling as much in love as I should have. I mean, I was finally with somebody - somebody who truly loved me as well. My feeling, however, was dim and far away, and I had a hard time grasping it. Thinking of you now, thinking of being with you and holding you in my arms, I feel a great sensation of love - and longing, of course - the feeling that I know that I should have felt while I was with you. Maybe it was the cold. Maybe it was the fact that other people were around. I just feel like I didn't love you as much as I should have that night. Maybe my numbing feeling was especially strong yesterday.

Oh, now I can't get my mind off of you. Daeriam. Why am I doing that? Your name is Mairead, not Daeriam. We have no reason to protect our identities on blogger. You are Mairead. I am Austen, not Netsua. There. I'm sure we'll be safe, Mairead.

I feel more comfortable referring to you by your real name.

I regret that I wasn't able to give you something to remember me by. I told you that I would, but I wasn't able to make anything in time. I apologize for that. The necklace you gave me is wonderful. I constantly feel it against my chest, and therefore constantly think of you. If you are planning on giving me something this weekend, don't. I will give you something. Perhaps we can make this into a tradition - exchanging gifts every weekend.

Another half-year? I have to wait that long?

Well, alright. I don't want the people at Sandy Springs to be too disappointed to lose their Mairead so suddenly.

But I certainly do miss you more than ever, Mairead Mcloughlin.

-Austen. Not Netsua. Austen.

Yawn

I'm incredibly bored. I know that I need to write something. I'm sure that, if I search my mind, I can find a multitude of things. Why not make a good/bad list to exersice my brain?

Good
---
I will see Daeriam this Sunday
I have root beer flavored candy
I wrote a love song and perfected it
The Social Workers are gone... Hallelujah!

Bad
---
I was unable to enter the writing contest because of Mrs. Thompson's fuckup.
I'm only able to see the person whom I am in love with on weekends.
I'm having trouble getting my schedule changed.
I can't play the song I wrote very well because I can't find my pick

Meh...

I guess I don't have as many things on my mind as I thought.

Oh well.

I miss Daeriam.

Music: Rainbows- The Moldy Peaches
Incense: OMG! I RAN OUT OF INCENSE!

Virginia Tech

Events... Events... Events...

Things are so... eventful....

yet... so normal

too normal

My life has been governed around the concept that my life is boring and that I need to cope with it... which I've learned to do wonderfully... But now everything is simply happening... so many events and problems and dillemas and confusions and I don't feel like I can handle it. When I stop to sit and feel what my emotions feel like, I just don't feel anything. As I wrote in that poem:



My feeling of nuetral
Has diminished to nothing
What is nothing?
Nothing makes sense

It makes so much sense
But why can't I handle it?
Why are these thoughts I'm having
So candle-lit?



And this is quite true... Never has something occured where I haven't felt anything. The feeling of being nuetral, of just experiencing life and going along with it, it is still a feeling, a genuine feeling that I'm just supposed to keep going- not happy, not sad...

And now it's disappeared. I don't even feel it anymore. And maybe I'm just beginning to think more and more about things, but I've noticed that things don't really even feel like they've happened. They feel distant, like a dream, only my dreams are usually clearer in memory.

Although I don't think I've dreamed at all in the past month or so. I just fall asleep and then wake up... no in between. I might dream.... maybe I just don't remember it. What I've decided to do is train my mind to think of what I dreamt about immediately when I wake up. This used to come naturally to me. Maybe I still do have that ability- I just haven't been dreaming...

Sometimes I wish the others around me were more selfish. If I sacrifice my own happiness for somebody elses, than my happiness is diminished too, but whoever is meant to be pleased wants to do the same thing that I've done- try to make me happy whilst sacrificing their own happiness... And Daeriam, you feel guilty because you think you are annoying toward me, you think that you are making me suffer. You should know that you aren't. You should know that I love you, and it would take the world to change that. You should know I want to see you just as much as you want to see me, but I've just learned to cope. And you should have realized by now that I am a very understanding person. I completely understand your dillema. No, I have never experienced it in the way that you are experiencing it, but I can understand and relate all the same. I'm not telling you not to feel sad... For God's sake, you have every right to feel sad. I'm telling you that you that you should not feel sad about the idea that you are annoying me. Which is completely false, by the way.

Shall I summarize my trip to VT? I believe that would be preferable. I kept wishing that I had a laptop with me so I could write down the things that were happening to me as they happened. Many thoughts went through my head about many things- annoyances, understandings, familiarities, people that I met, events that occured, happy things, sad things, everything......

Well, the main annoyance:

We arrived there many, many hours late. I originally had to be up and at the high school at 4:45 Friday Morning. Due to the bad weather, Mr. Yonkey changed that to 11:45 in the morning. Of course, this made us 7 hours late. Quite late, in fact. We made it to VT, me being quite annoyed, having been squished next to Ryan Benyo with my legs at an acute angle due to the lack of leg room (because Mr. Yonkey is a giant...). We walked into the ballroom, and waited. Everybody but us had already auditioned, so when they called for people to go where their designated areas were, confusion overtook some of us. Eventually, a decision was made. Since it was too late to audition, we would be judged by how we did at Districts and reccomendations from band directors, and simply be put in last chair of a band that was considered our level. I did Districts two years ago. So I was being judged as an eighth grader by how I did in sixth grade.

There are five bands-

Bronze
Silver
Maroon
Orange
Gold

Bronze being the lowest. In sixth grade, I was terrible. So guess what I got.

8th chair in Bronze band.

Well, to continue, while we were getting things straightened out, all of the bands had gone to their designated practice rooms. Now that we knew what bands we were in, we were to go there as well. Lauren Light and I were the only two Bronze band people from Rappahannock. Mr. Beasley, Lauren, and I eventually, after much searching, found our practice room. We managed to enter quietly, while the band rehearsed, or rather, made sounds similar to that of an elephant giving birth. We found somebody who was designated to help out with anything, still with barely anybody realizing that we had entered the room. Mr. Beasley told her what chairs we were in, and she went to get us seats. She got Lauren's first, because the trumpets were on the far row and easiest to get to, wheras the French Horns were right in the middle. She took a little while to get the chair without disturbing anybody, so I waited patiently in the back for her to finish.

The director was an old woman, still obviously full of life enough to handle kids, but old nontheless. She reminded me of Ms. Fornier, in the way that the latter treated everyone in fifth grade. She noticed me waiting calmy in the back, and she offered to get me a seat and asked me what chair I was in, completely shattering my hopes of entering the band silently and without a big scene.

Several heads turned back to look at me. I momentarily looked around at theses faces, young, some even looked like they were in fifth grade. Their eyes were all fixed on me, and, for the first time in my life, I regretted looking 3 or 4 years older than I am. I've been mistaken many times for ages as high as 17, because of my height, my clarity of speech, my vocabulary usage, and my face development (I'm not assuming these things. I was told them by the many people who have mistaken my age.)

So there I was. I might as well have been 16 or 17- it didn't make a difference to these people. They didn't know how old I was, how old I looked was enough to handle.

The director asked me what chair I was in, and, after surveying over these people, these faces, I replied:

"I'm in eighth chair."

I managed to say it clearly and distinctively, showing very little hint of the embarrasment that I was feeling. Many of these fifth grade faces didn't even bother to stifle their laughter. Clearly, I was being ridiculed. Sill not showing any hint of embarrasment, I walked up through the row and sat down in the chair that I had been given by the band director. My embarrasment was hidden, but my annoyance at the entire thing was very apparent.

The 7th chair French Hornist next to me reminded me of someone in my grade. I would later learn many differences between them, but the angle in which I saw her at first made me almost mistake her for Johanna Hughes.

We played a few warm-ups, and began to take a look at our pieces of music. I will describe them to you, along with our progress along the way with them.

Kitty Hawk March- One of the easiest pieces of music that I have ever played. On my part, at least, it didnt go above a concert D and didn't go below a concert A flat. If you are in band, than you should know how pathetically easy that is. We sucked at it when we first played it. We sucked at it at the concert.

New World Symphony- Sounds strangely like the theme from Jaws in some aspects. Or something similar to that. We made quite a bit of improvement on this piece, in fact. Still intensely easy, though.





Meh... this is really getting boring... It's boring to read and boring to type and I doubt you'll care so I'll just leave it like this.

Sigh

*sigh*

I have so many things to write about, but no time at all to write about them. I'm at a Holiday Inn in Blacksburg, VA for a band trip. Today, I'm going to be playing non-stop from 9-12 and then basically from 1:00 to the end of the day. I wish that I could immediately type my thoughts as I have them, but, unfortunately, I can't.

I really don't want to be here...

...To be explained.

HOLY SHIT! MINDFUCK!

Imagine, if you will, that there was, or rather, is, a person, similar to yourself that thought of something. It was only a passing thought for him, just something that came and went quickly without a trace. It barely made a mark on is memory. In fact, he was probably concentrating on paperwork at the time, so he was trying to block out any other errant thoughts that might distract him.

This man, (or woman… no way of really knowing…), thought of the universe, or the universe that you have come to know. Quickly, quietly, the thought of it crept into his mind and then slipped away without a trace. But, currently, that little speck of a thought is still occurring in his mind. It was a thought of another consciousness- your consciousness. He momentarily created you, only he didn’t really create you, but he created your consciousness. And your consciousness, in a different aspect, created the world you are in now as the world of choice that you are to live in. What you see right now, every conceivable feeling that you are feeling, everything to you, is simply a product of your conscious mind’s thoughts.

So. A recap of what I’ve tried to explain to you, in a timeline.

---Past---

#1: Well, who really knows what #1 is? Who knows how it began? Somehow, eventually, a person, or living consciousness came to be.

#2: This consciousness went through its imagined life, most likely unaware of the fact that it was a consciousness, not a person in some world somewhere

#3: A passing thought was about to go through his mind. This passing thought contains you, but not really you. You, as a living solid in this world of solids, liquids, plasmas, and gases, truly don’t exist. Your consciousness exists, and that is what creates all of what you see or feel. You are nothing but a passing thought in a much bigger idea that nobody seems to understand the origin of.

---Present ---

#4: The passing thought is going through his mind right now. You are reading this. Or your conscious mind momentarily decided to create it and therefore it became real to you. Either way, you could view it as yourself reading what you are reading right now. (That is possibly the most logical thing I’ve stated in a while.)

---Future---

#5: You will cease to exist. Your conscious mind will convince itself that it is growing older and will eventually die, and, at the precise moment that you die, the passing thought that you are a part of will cease to be. (Just to piss you off, I will remind you of something here. The consciousness who you are simply a passing thought of is simply a passing thought of another consciousness, and when it convinces itself that it is dead, the passing thought of the consciousness that you are a passing thought of will simply cease to be. But don’t worry. You will have been deleted from existence far before that, for your conscious mind will have convinced itself that you are dead, and therefore you will die.)

Before I continue to #6, I must make you aware of something. You may have realized this through reading all of that, but every conscious thought that you have at any given time, happens. It happens, and then it is gone. It will seem quick, and perhaps the memory of it will not leave the slightest mark at all on your mind, but realize that those thoughts were the foundations of a completely new consciousness. They were consciousnesses that lived, and died. They went through their entire life in no more than a millisecond, or possibly no time at all, to you.

But think once again. Is it the fact that they die what makes the passing thought of them pass away? Or when the thought of them goes away, do they immediately die? Once again, I cannot answer these questions.

#6: An infinite number of consciousnesses will be born and die, instantly. For, if the consciousnesses that you created took up an amount of time not even noteworthy in your mind, then that must mean that the thought that conceived you must contain those thoughts, for your consciousness contains them. And even if the thoughts were to take up a whole 1/10^th of your life, the consciousness that brought you into existence would only have it take up 1/100^th of its life. If they took up 1/100000000^th of your life, then they would take up 1/1000000000000000000^th of their life. In order to get the correct amount in relation to their life you must multiply the denominator of how much of your life it took up by itself, and put a one in front of it.

Now, this is in assumption that the thought that you are having takes up the exact same fraction of your life as the passing thought that created you takes up your creator’s life. In order to determine such things when the fraction of time that you have been created in isn’t the same as the fraction of time as your passing thought, you must have the statistic that tells the fraction of life that you take up, and then simply multiply the denominator of the fraction of life that your thought takes up by the fraction of life that you take up, and you have the fraction of time that your passing thought takes up in your creator’s mind. Which would end up being an incredibly small fraction.

In conclusion, I want to remind you that typing this for about two hours straight has proved nothing. It is simply another “What if”, not much different than the concept of a god, or the concept of an inconceivably small speck containing the universe, which exploded, making the universe as big as it is. If a set of beliefs is brought into existence because of my rambling, than so be it. I’ll become famous. But I want you to think about this. So much of it makes sense, yet so much of it, despite the fact that is has no proof, is conceivably possible, right?

And just for kicks, I will add one more confusing thought. If the above paragraphs are true, than that means that what I just typed, and every subdivision of these thoughts created an unimaginable amount of consciousnesses, all living under this prospect, or possibly the subdivisions of this prospect, and being aware of it. But those consciousnesses have already lived and died, at every single minor switch of thought. And, as you read this, your consciousness created similar thoughts to mine. They lived under the same principles that mine lived under.

And if it is true, than I am just a consciousness. If I will myself to, I can live forever, and create whatever I want with my mind. Sort of like a lucid dream. I must believe that I can, and I can!

But in such a case that the world is what it is advertised to be in real life, than doing such things would mean I would be literally insane. I won’t take my chances to convince myself that I am seeing things. I’d rather kid myself to believe that everything I wrote is pure fiction. I want to have my imaginary pawns think I am perfectly sane.

Truly a mindfuck, eh? I wrote that in a story last night. Go to Netsua Stories and read the whole ting.

I'm so sneaky

My mother ripped my phone cord last night, what I believed to be the only phone cord of that caliber of length, but while everybody was sleeping around 7:00 this morning, I managed to find another one and hook it all up without waking anyone. I'm surprised that nobody woke up. I was forced to commit quite a bit of noise.

If, suddenly, I am unable to log on, that means my mother has taken (or broken intentionally) the phone cord again.

Why would she do this? Either she was drunk or extremely stressed or both. I don't know.

By the way, you should check out my poetry site, Sarah.

http://misplacedletters.blogspot.com

Farewell for now,
Netsua