~~ mopey meta, man. oh yeah.

[reenka]

I keep talking in third person, even if I say "I" all the time. I pretend that if I try to take the higher ground, I can magically explain everything and it'll be okay. Except it won't. The questions remain.

I feel things-- I read stories-- I like them or dislike them. But then my mind goes over it and over it, asking "why". And it's like, the person who answers the constant whys isn't exactly me. It's some construct of my mind, imbued with my opinions but stripped of a lot of my personality-- if that makes sense. Why is it so important to me that I like -this- story but not -that- story? And why do I keep asking myself that question? See, there I go again. It's layer upon layer of distancing and third-person observation of myself, all the time.

I used to think that this meant I should be a scientist-- something in psychology, maybe. It's like every story is a mirror of both myself and the world, and yet I use them to escape both. I think it's all about that certain emotional charge some writers have-- they're still writing about relationships, the same characters in relationships, even, but it's different. It's not as empty. It's got its own heart, not just something implied in the characters. It -glows-... warm and filling and -real-. People don't seem as real to me, a lot of times-- they don't give off this heavy of a burn. It's like... they're not on all the time.

A good story is like falling in love-- there's just you and the world you're drowning in, the emotional landscape you recognize, that sense of danger and safety all mixed together. Music and art can be like that, too, except it doesn't engage my conscious mind as much-- it draws me out rather than occupying me, weighting down my mind with foreign ideas and emotions at once. Right now, I'm in love. I feel like the world is far away, and I'm just looking for that same high of -touching- something real again, the way I did with -that- story. Reading another story about the same characters-- even a good one-- that doesn't always give me the same rush-- which is just... frustrating.

That's probably why the right sort of intense language & the right characterization are most important to me. Plot isn't something I can get emotionally attached to. It's background, it's a mental exercise, like a strategy game. Maybe that's why I read love stories more than a lot of things. I've always used stories the way most people use rock music, I guess-- as an emotional outlet. It just has to hit the right notes, has to get to me the right way, has to give me the same high.

It's funny, thinking that I'm often seen as a thinker, as someone who-- I dunno-- processes things logically. I guess I do. I take the tangle of emotions and try to untangle obsessively, just 'cause it's something to -do-, to distract myself, to make the whole riot of feeling more bearable. I think because otherwise I'd drown. But my constant question is "why", not "how". The people who ask "how", "when", "where"-- those are the usual sorts of thinkers. Order in the chaos of one's thoughts-- that can be therapeutic. Is therapeutic. Without the pretense of analytical thought, I'd probably have thrown myself off a building by now, music & art & writing be damned. There's only so much drugging you can take before you burn up, I think. But. Anyway.

This reminds me of the question going around LJ at one point: what's your One Story that you always seek out or write. Mine would probably have something to do with the way our passions can save us or destroy us or both. Something about how important it is to let go and really live out your dreams, accept the fear and -do- it. The choice between fear and passion-- stories about choosing passion. That's what I read, anyway. It doesn't have to be a lover's passion-- it can be passion for knowledge or magic or art. I think most of my stories are about how passion can nearly destroy you, and the stories I seek out are about how passion can save you, because that's what I want to believe.

Funny, because I don't see how passion can save -me-. From all indications, it's discipline and hard work that'll let me have what I want, whatever that may be. It's not enough to -want- things, that's the lesson life teaches you. It's not enough to -feel- things. It's especially not nearly enough to -know- things. You have to -do- things. And those things have to be the -right- things-- not just passively creative-- they have to be actively goal-oriented. Life laughs at dreamers who don't fight for their dreams.

Anyway. This bout of angst brought to you by the letters B and S, and way too much angsty smut for my peace of mind-- and also the knowledge that I'm procrastinating to the point of criminality. And now every time I say "angst" I hear layha saying "it's what's for dinner" in that H/D vid. Okay, now I'm laughing. Ah, the cycle continues.

Comments

[ljash.livejournal.com]

Hell, where to start. I think with the storytelling of one's life, I didn't necessarily mean things you write down or even things you tell. Just that any coherent memory will be made into a story. Like the way you remember your childhood and all that. It's probably 90% interpretation.

I also find that my day-to-day life doesn't excite me. In fact it seems to have nothing to do with me at all. But sometimes I get really excited about something or other. It's not always a piece of fiction, though usually it's an idea. I'm not usually excited about going somewhere or things like that. I need to do that more, I think. I need to get excited about something physical, like learning to ice skate or similar. I think that feels more alive in some way.

Not that I'll ever forsake my ideas. My most passionate interests seem to still be stories and ideas.

I think I know what you mean about the falling in love, something I do very very seldom. Even the painful parts feel good in some way--it all feels intensely real. I'm not sure if I'd say it feels chosen, but it does feel yours.

this usually happens when I'm on vacation in some exotic place a lot. I remember things clearer and live more intensely 'cause everything is a surprise and I -have- to notice it, so I do. And it's like, an excuse to live. Which one can do anywhere, but then, where you -are-, there's usually all this history and baggage to weight you down. *sigh*

Yeah--why is that? Why is it so hard to be yourself and really notice things and live each moment when you're surrounded by your life? Shouldn't it be easier to live in your life? But it's not. There's so much maintenance and goal-thinking. Can't just live for the moment because you have to insure there's success in the next moment. Or something like that. Anyhow, it's deadening. Haven't figured out how to escape that. Probably takes more courage than I have right now.

(but I am moving! Everybody cheer)

Yes to the Chasing Amy--such a great story. And the miserable ending was also just right. Though why is it more pervy to like the gay-boy-likes-girl stories? Seems just as pervy as the straight-boys-can't-resist-each-other stories.

apologies if I send this twice, I'm not sure if I sent it already

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

Oftentimes I get excited about like... fun things like going to Starbucks or a bookstore or a movie. I'm insanely excited about smallish things like drinking my favorite milkshake. I'd go on a train 40 minutes there and then back, just to have that. But then, I'm extremely hedonistic~:) Ideas are kind of my constant thrill, but sensations are the things I chase after most obsessively. I mean, in a way, I'm chasing after an endorphin rush even with the reading :>

I think to enjoy your life, you have to be significantly satisfied with your life. It has to be -good-, to be -chosen-, that's what I was implying. If you like where you are, what you're doing-- that's what important. I think. There's still drudgery, but there's also the slow-burning pleasure of knowing you are where you want to be. There's fulfillment there.

Sometimes I think I don't fall in love very much 'cause I just don't know that many people well enough. But it's not about knowing someone very well. I think-- loving people is easy. People are lovable. But falling in love isn't about them, really, as much as it is about them igniting something in you. Suddenly, everything changes, just because you know they exist. Everything seems new, like you're just starting your life. I dunno, it seems like something out of a story, but it did happen to me, so at least I know they're not making it up :>

I dunno why it's pervier-- I think it's because less people write it, so it seems more... freakish :>

Also. Um, here (http://www.echonyc.com/~stax/Buffy/herself/Disenchantment.html) is the Buffy/Spike fic that set me off. If you have any interest in the fandom/pairing, I'd recommend it on the basis of unfettered passion, impossible things coming true, and people surprising themselves & each other in a big way~:)