MOOP!

For those who have been asking, I have not been hired back for next year.

I almost certainly have a lot of thoughts about this. Maybe sometime soon I will share them. For right now, I just hurt.

R.
MOOP!

I realized, on further consideration while seated in the stairwell where I am not meant to be, still not home because the promise of safety was too tempting, and then the floor too distracting, that I have not had a final waltz tonight.

(I sat, very specifically out, and was told by a friend that he saw why I had such high standards for waltzing.)

And so, nevermind that dancing was long done an hour ago even, and my muscles are cold, and I am wearing sneakers and jeans, I determine that indeed, a final waltz is in order. For want of a proper partner, I select myself, and for want of a band, I polite request that Miss Vera Serenfreude volunteer. She complies, and so a song is played.

And some nights, it helps to wash the pain away with good cheer, and I applaud those nights with a full heart when they arise. But others, it is recognized useless to even try, and truly, the best way to fight some moods is to let them win.

Freedom is being alone. I fear liberation.

Which is not quite appropriate, but the pain in the words is there, and even if it is not my exact pain, it helps. I howl along in points, and sob at others, and more important than any and all else, I dance. It is not a pretty dance, or organized, or well thought out, but it is perfectly honest, and when it comes down to it, honesty is more important than aesthetics when one's partner is themselves.

And so I leave this message for you, Sorceress Katarina R. Ruth de D. de Whimsy de A. de MOOP! den Boston den Earth den MOOP! ged Athe ged Gaea (because such messages sent to the future must have all the appropriate names and titles listed, lest they arrive in the wrong hands.)

Dance. Give your pain to movement, and nevermind that you are cold and ache and have vision blurred by tears. There has not been better therapy devised by mortals or gods for you than this, and you would be ill advised by your self to attempt a faulty substitute. Shut the doors and pull the shades and just fucking dance.

It helps.

~Me.
MOOP!

((And to those who wonder and worry, the dancing was preceded by writing, for if dance is my therapy, writing is my sanity. The words are harsh and made in pain, but the messages are there to be sorted on the morrow. More stable responses will be made, Conversations will be had, and everything will be better tomorrow, simply by nature of the fact that I will have traveled through time until I reach such a day, and the sheer idea is a delight all by itself. Think of tonight not as a problem, rather the first step of a solution. Good day and good night.))

I think I have a new desktop.

~Sor
MOOP!

[Poll #1014404]

For those who wish to know, my answers are that I do have several journals that I ocassionally use to write shit I don't want everyone on my flist to read (ie, if you give enough of a shit about me to actually go and find them, then you're probably one of the people who I don't mind reading.)

They are all linked pretty damn obviously out of my userinfo and/or flist, but I don't update any of them often. If you poke around long enough, you can find some pretty open (for me) stuff.

The obvious reason I brought all this up was that I posted in one of them (I'll even make it easy, it's in Alis's journal) and that sent me on a thoughtstream of 'why?'

Why bother to write a perfectly open and free for everyone to see journal entry, and then toss it into a journal very few other people read. Either it's open, and I want reinforcement, comments, and people to post, or it's not, and I should just either use a filter or post it completely privately.

Personally, I think it's the idea of risk --Ooo, I'm doing something on the edge, putting my emotions out there for anyone to find --if they bother looking. Or even more so, I think it's the same idea I stated above --that this way, I limit my journal to only the people I know care. I'm guessing that the hundred or so people who read my journal don't actually read every word I write --hell, more then half of you (I'd guess) I just skim past. But there are people who I definently care about to read every word, and I'd like to wish I meant that much to some of you out there.

Annnnd I'm out. Press the clicky buttons now, 'k?

~Sor
MOOP!

I have been unusually talkative today, or rather, the thoughtstream has been unusually directed towards the elljay. Which is unusual --normally my day to day wanderings and thinkings are more Elsewhere based. Elsewhere being essentially the elaborate multilayered fanfics of my life. Although, lately it's all been so...mundane. I miss being a healer and fighting demons, or sneaking past the incompetent nazi's on my way to the park. Is this just another part of growing up --leaving the fantasy behind, and replacing it with the multitangled dramas that are interhuman relationships?

If so, I dislike the idea of growing up even more then before. I've been noting for a while now that the fantastical has ebbed from my mind, especially odd when one considers the prominence it used to hold. Rin is fading, and all the magic in the world can't protect her. She's the forgotten doll left behind in the toy box when her owner becomes too old for it.

...Dear gods no. No, no, no, no, NO! This is why I stick to Elsewhere, I don't have to face this sort of thing when I'm trawling it's shores or when I'm fiddling about in the lounge. Especially scary is the fact that this is something I wished upon myself, a fallen moment where I just wanted it all to go away. I could find it for you, I believe I gave it to Gabriel to protect, and he would be only too happy to help me spread my wings outside my walls.

...Fine. Here. Do not let it be said that I don't share my secrets ocassionally. I just need my mood to snap into just the right direction for it.

Ah, kung-fu time. I'll return later, I believe, and post all those thoughts. Or not. We'll see then, that's how life goes for me. And sometimes I really wish it wouldn't.

Love
~Sor
MOOP!