November 9th, 2010


My wonky timesense

I think I need to explain my wonky sense of time again, because even my best friend doesn't seem to remember or grasp it.

Time has very little meaning to me. I can easily understand the "time is an illusion" concept because of my wonky timesense. I've basically figured out that my sense of time is a combo of many factors. I think I was always prone to living in the moment anyway, which is part of it. Having a Goddess and some long-lived species in my collective contributes as well, a fact that was brought to my attention earlier today by a post in one of the otherkin communities. When three of our primary fronters are from a species with an over 200 year lifespan, time doesn't mean the same.

More down-to-earth reasons:

* A natural tendency to live in the moment. The past is all foggy, and I don't pay much attention to the past as a concept anyway. Sometimes things will come up, but for the most part it's classified as unimportant. "The future" is more important than the past, but is still rather a nebulous concept for me. I don't often think of it, and when I do it tends to be no more than a day or two ahead. Anything farther away feels like it's on the horizon; something a week ahead will feel like the time equivalent of 20 miles of hard hiking away.

* Fucked up memory, which is selective to begin with. My mind seems to . Information from memories tends to surface at random, I have to concentrate to remember specific things. New memories are filtered for importance, unimportant stuff tends to fade. What I do remember is often out of chronological order, and it's a struggle to re-order it. Other people tend to forget what they had for breakfast; sometimes I can't even remember if I *had* breakfast... at least, not without concentrating. The farther back I go, the less I remember. But since coming out of the fantasy world I was in for 10 years of my childhood, I've remembered a LOT more. I have almost no memories from that 10 year period, save for some stories that I remember coming up with, and a few scattered events.

* Time feels... different to me. I only know this because of interactions with other people's time systems. What most people call "a few minutes," I would call "a few seconds." When I say "a few minutes," I generally mean no fewer than 15, more often 30. Anything less just doesn't feel like very long, except in the contexts of computers or waiting in lines, or waiting for the bus. Then, even a minute can feel like an hour.
      Furthermore, days feel incredibly long, yet once one is over it feels like it disappeared rapidly and it long gone. "Yesterday" feels to me like I imagine most people think of "last week" feeling like. Time also seems to go slower when I'm on my own, than when I'm with others. I visit Brooke, and in what feels like 3 hours at the most, 8 or more hours pass; while at home on the computer, 8 hours feels more like 6 hours.
      And at work, when I was still working... how would you like to work a 14 hour work shift? Because that's what 8 hour shifts felt like to me, every day; worse for especially busy days. I did a *real* 12 hour shift once... it felt like a whole two days had passed. I am not even exaggerating. I was utterly spent, I was loopy as fuck, barely awake, and felt like I was about to hallucinate; it felt like I was undergoing sleep deprivation trials. However many hours I really spent working, I think I must have experienced three times that, subjectively.

Also, it takes a lot of effort on my part to stick to other people's schedules. When I get in clock-watching mode, I glance at it every 30 seconds or so, convinced that if I waited any longer, that 5 minutes would have gone by in the space of one. Not an entirely unreasonable assumption, either, given the info above. I had to always make sure I was early to work, and in so doing I was usually a whole half an hour or more early. A frequent thing was me being all "OMG I'M GOING TO BE SO DAMNED LATE!!!" and get there 20 minutes early. It didn't help that I completely suck at judging how long it's going to take me to get somewhere. Just when I thought I had it figured out, I would relax a little and then end up being 5 or 10 minutes late. So getting to work involved working myself into a near panic from the moment I awoke until I actually clocked in and got to where I needed to be.

Crossposted from
Steph bouncy

Got some writing done! Yay!

Last night, I got more writing done than I had for quite a while. It was on a story that is too Mary-Sue to ever publish, but oh well. Got that done thanks to the tablet and the handwriting recognition software on my PC. Slower than typing, but when one has been staring at the blinking cursor with one's mind empty every time before, any progress is better than none. If I'm not already bored of this program before the trial expires, I think I'll pay the $20 for it.

And today I am currently at Panera, having written over a page of new material on the Mindeodean story "A Wee Bit Off," having made no progress on the Traipah novel "Foreign Influence," before getting stuck again. Considering I haven't even thought about "A Wee Bit Off" for months, it's incredible I was able to get as far as I did. And the new progress will doubtless spark more new material, provided I give myself time to think, by going on a walk or some such.

I'm going to make another post, about some dreams I had last night. Then I'm going to go to Brooke's. I think I'll walk there, at least partway, so I have thinking time.

Tomorrow, I have a meetup. It's kind of odd, as they usually meet up on Tuesday. But it's Wednesday this week for some reason. Ah well. Gotta come down to this area again to pick up my cloak tomorrow, too. Probably try doing some writing tomorrow, too, assuming I have time.

Oh, and that cranberry-sauce pot roast I made is awesome! The gravy is delicious! I'll have to stop by at home before Brooke's so I can share some with her.

Crossposted from

Must have been Lo in last night's dream.

Last night, I had an interesting dream. I was walking along, fully femme, and this punk guy with spiky hair, and spikes all over his clothes and collar was trying to hit on me, and I kept telling him to stop it, I wasn't interested in him. The third or fourth time he tried this, I finally got pissed and showed him my inverted pentagram necklace, and said, "Stop, in the name of Satan, or I will hex you!" (I don't remember what I looked like or sounded like, but I suspect I was Lo.) Even then, he didn't back off, so I ran and squeezed through a gap in some trees. There were a bunch of cops on the other side, combing the area. Turned out they were looking for the punk guy, I found this out when I told this one cop what he'd been trying to do. Don't know what they were looking for him for, but I was glad to be gone from him. I pointed them at where he'd been last, and they took off after him.

There was some bridge between that part of the dream and the next one that I don't remember. The next part of the dream had the same me walking along some grassy ridge towards some sort of building, and I made a comment that it looked perfect for a ritual, maybe a Satanic Mass.

And that is all I remember of my dreams last night.

Crossposted from