Mini NaNoWriMo update

7 days left, and I currently sit at 40,553 words. A little less than 10,000 to go!

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It's official

I have broken out the Christmas music.

I know, I know. It's not even Thanksgiving yet, it's still November, we've got 8 days. I am completely one of those annoying people who is blasting Christmas carols way too early and effectively ruins the holiday by starting too early and putting on the pressure and taking the fun out of it.

First, at least I waited until now. Most stores had their Christmas shit out before Halloween, and even I think that was WAY too early.

Second, this is definitely later than I have previous years. I chalk it up to bad experiences these last few holidays.

But also...I couldn't help it. My brother has Black Friday off for the first time since we've been old enough to go out and brave the insanity together, so we've been talking about which stores to go to and searching for the best places to go. Which, inevitably, leads to discussing Christmas presents since our goal of Black Friday is to purchase several, if not most, of the presents for our friends/family. I am cleaning/clearing/organizing my room and the rest of the house, and it happens that we are also rearranging for the holidays (setting up the tree, hanging lights/garland, decorations, etc.). My mom and I are starting to plan out the holiday meals and food for the various family get-togethers, parties, and friend gift-exchanges we have in December. And my bank account is definitely crying at the prospect of having to purchase so many things. Everything is kind of setting up and gearing up for the inevitable holiday hell.

Mostly, though...I've been really sad lately. As evident by the last entry, and more things going on. It's just kind of a weird time, and the only thing that usually cheers me up is Christmas music. Ever since I was little, I've been in love with the holidays. Of course it was because I got things and was allowed to be greedy, but it was because I loved the holidays around wherever I was at the time. In every country and city I lived in, Christmas was pretty much the "same": decorations, gifts, spirit, cold weather (of varying degrees), parties, family, stress. I love being cold, bundling up, drinking hot chocolates (or peppermint mochas, as Starbucks has continued its world domination). It was also the one time I was guaranteed to have my dad be home from work. Christmas music embodies all that I love about it, and has some awesome memories attached to it all. It just cheers me up like nothing else can.

So, yeah, I know, I'm early. I'm probably annoying to everyone else. Everyone around me will tire of Christmas much earlier than Christmas actually approaches.

And I will continue to play it.

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On a serious note...

I've worked hard to keep this blog "light."  I have several drafts of entries that were extremely serious or, at least, not light-hearted.  I mostly keep it to NaNo, hot men and lustful feelings, the general "this made me smile" kind of things.  There's been the occasional introspective post, but generally I leave it out of here.

I guess I'll break that now.

Here it is, 1:24am, I'm reclining in my bed reading the last dozen or so pages of "The Calligrapher" by Edward Docx (review coming soon!), hearing Glee music coming through my laptop, and for whatever reason I looked up in front of me.  I see my desk, which has a ton of papers and boxes and odds 'n ends on it (product of organizing the last of my moving boxes the last 3 days), and atop it are the books and journals I have deemed important enough to be set apart from my two bookshelves.  Including but not limited to: French Dictionary, Italian dictionary, Man Search For Meaning by Viktor Frankl, The Outsiders by SE Hinton, A Little Prince/Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery (both the english and french versions), the leather journal my father gave me as a going-to-college gift, and the book of poems my mother gave me as a going-to-college gift.

And it hits me: I am desperately, hopelessly, unequivocally, undeniably unhappy.

Not that I hadn't had an inkling of this feeling.  I've known for awhile that I'm searching for more, that I'm getting more and more agitated - but I never thought it would amount to something this powerful.

I can't even begin to describe how much I am resisting San Diego.  I love this city: downtown, the suburbs, all the winding and connecting freeways, the many malls of all sorts, the "ghetto" parts, the beaches, the cliffs, the people you find.  But I can't shake the feeling of resistance and, inevitably, resentment.  I've conquered this city.  I know it, i know the places within it (of course not all, but you get what I'm saying), I know what it's like to live here.  I know.

And now I can't stand to be here.  I'm trapped, in a weird way.  I feel as though there's nothing left here to challenge me or offer me.  I know I should probably just search a bit harder, but it will never leave me that I don't want to search here.  I want to search somewhere else, somewhere I've never been.  I need that feeling of brand new, of a place I have no idea of anything.  I need the exhilaration of walking into the street and having zero clue what is around me.  I want the anonymous feeling that comes with knowing eventually I will connect with something.

I miss it.  All I've ever known is being faced with places and people I've never seen before, and now that it has been taken away from me I have no idea what I'm doing anymore.  Right now, I am so unhappy with the idea that wherever I go, whatever I do...I already know what's there and who I will return to.

And I can't stand it.

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