April 7th, 2007

brain: size matters

(no subject)

I have three tests in the next week. This means only one thing: a list.

Number theory test: Take Tuesday afternoon after probability (due Wednesday in class)
French test: Take Wednesday (in-class test)
Astronomy test: Take Wednesday anytime after work (due Thursday in class)

This means I need to catch up on that backlog of work, like my Global Connections: France application and my SpARC presentation. Oh, and start reading Lonely Planets for astronomy since I finally (finally!) finished reading The First Three Minutes. That's some dense reading right there, even though the math was a lot clearer than the science.

Back to work for me.
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writing: it never killed anyone


I tried to update earlier this evening but couldn't. LJ was working just fine, but for some reason I couldn't think of anything to write about. To be more accurate, I could think of everything to write about. I have a queue of entries waiting to be written. Those weren't on my mind when I sat down, though.

When I sat down, so many ideas swirled through my mind, just like chocolate syrup in ice cream. I tried to capture all of them down, but at times there's something about seeing my own thoughts on the computer screen for the very first time that makes them feel so artificial, as if a stranger's writing them, and I would recognize them as my own only when I read them afterward. When I sat down tonight, my hands and brain didn't get busy like they do when I write fiction.

Instead, they froze, creating the ultimate paralysis.

I sat there during that time, and I thought of what could be causing this. Sure, I get distracted at times while updating; I think I've mentioned this quite a bit lately--all the playing in other windows and tinkering with things on my desk. This doesn't happen as often when I write by hand. This I remember.

So I turned to Dr. Nbook, my companion in times of triumph and defeat, the one who sees me through everything, and I began to write. I realized that I had written in Dr. Nbook only three times in the past week (was it only three times? Wow, I really have been busy), and hardly more than that since I started this particular Dr. Nbook. It worked. When pen and paper met, they did their magic and words began to bloom from the page. I scribbled. And I scribbled. And I scribbled.

I wrote about things that happened today that I didn't even think about, or would have otherwise earned a one-sentence mention in here if I had thought of them. I wrote about my current eccentricities and how I'm embracing them even more than usual. I wrote about my unusually optimistic nature as of late. I scribbled down lyrics and thoughts on religion or lack of it. Yet some things remain unwritten, but the night begins. Tomorrow is another day, after all.

Today Dr. Nbook and I had a reunion, and I unlocked parts of my heart.