Writing introductions is a bit tedious so....just take a look at my first post if you want to know more....

....and if you get curious about the name of this World or my posts, check out the second one.

The Sloth

Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing keeping this account open. I'm not friends with anyone under this screenname. I've never been friends with anyone under this name. Nor do I have any desire to be. It was created as a place to hide and used as such for a while, but then, at the same time as I lost interest in using my original account, things changed around here and the site became something used for things I never took part in. Some time later I thought I wanted to use it again. The old way. Who knows why, but it's clear it wasn't because I wanted to be "part of something" again. Otherwise I'd go about things differently, wouldn't I?

否定的な人間...

There are things I say I want to do. Things I think I'm good at, and should do. Things that I ought to be happy doing. I'm still not doing them. Why? Because I'm afraid of failure? That seems too easy an out. There are plenty of people who think I'm good at that stuff. Hell, there are more than enough of them who say I am. And I guess I shouldn't say I don't do anything, after all, I draw tons of stuff, even if it's not what I want to be drawing. And the people I give it to like it. Most of the time anyway...but recently it seems like they don't matter anymore. All that matters is that the one person whose approval I want doesn't ever seem to notice. I scream and I shout, working harder, thinking only of being praised by that person, and....nothing...I don't make a sound. I don't get one single dent of a smile, maybe a few hollow words of gratitude, but no hint of pleasure to indicate that I've made something worthwhile, something good. No, if there's anything at all it's forced, as if the words "I'm better than you, why do you bother trying? You should just leave this kind of thing to me." are hanging in the air between us. And then it's right back to, "me, me, me!" before I can blink, and I think I know what Naruto felt like, fighting and struggling to be recognized by Sasuke, aching to be acknowledged even as a rival if not a companion, not better, just equal. Enough. Standing on the same ground. And I hate myself all the more for wanting it. I who have spent most of my life looking down on others, believing because I was told that I was better, had no need of them, no use for them. What is someone like that doing wishing for acceptance? How can someone as brave and conceited as that feel like quitting and hiding thanks to one unwitting child?

The more you love, the more you give, the more you give, the more you need, and the more you need, the more you hate yourself for needing.

Lately I feel like closing down this account might be a good idea. It's a huge waste of time to edit and post art that almost no one is looking at, right? Of course, I could post it on my facebook like I was up until 2011 started, but I want to close that down too. (I'll never be able to though, thanks family...) And what would be the point anyway? So more people who know nothing about it can give me empty compliments? So here I sit....I write a blog on a non-blog-centered site that's read by a few of my real-life-friends who can't comment on it, rather than updating something normal like facebook, joining a regular blog site like livejournal, or making friends with people here who can comment and sharing in their stories as well. I post art that is occasionally seen by kids and dabblers, rather than join a proper art community like deviantart. Sometimes people comment, more often they don't. I don't much care. It's likely because I never comment on anything of anyone else's. There's a momentary thrill when I make the top ten artists once in a while, but really? What will come of that? It's not as though people are scouting around here for future manga-ka. (And I wouldn't know if they were, would I? Another side effect of not bothering to make friends...) Somewhere along the way the internet became just another place where people are "nice" to each other. You update, people comment, they "smile" at you. You respond. Everyone is cheerful. And if they're not, you comfort them. You read what they have to say, tell them their work is good, or try to "help" them with their problems. All this mental effort after work. I'm not suited to it. I expect I won't delete my account though, here or anywhere else.

Moving forward seemed to be an option, of course, but I just wanted to stand still.

End of Hypnosis7 (Truth Under My Strings)

At times I find myself a slave to my reputation. Certain people expect me to behave a certain way towards them and if I don't...well, it's not so much that I'd be letting them down...I don't much care if I do that after all...but people seem to have this idea of what "Katy" is, and if I'm not that, well....things might not go the way I want them to. Or something...

I have this really clear memory of riding home from school with 2 of my "big brothers" from the drumline in high school in which I'm sitting in the backseat singing under my breath. They know I'm singing, and they keep trying to turn the radio off at unexpected times in order to hear it but I always manage to catch myself just in time. Thinking back, I can't imagine why I wouldn't have wanted them to hear me singing. In fact, I'm pretty sure I didn't know then why I didn't want them to. I'm a good singer. I've always known this. My mother sings in a band and she taught me. I've always been proud of my voice. By the time I started high school I'd sung on more stages than I could remember. None of them were big, or money making, but still...people heard me. But that wasn't the "Katy" that those boys knew.

In another version of this memory I'm thinking about something I really want to say to one, or both of them while I'm singing. It's usually something trivial like, "Today in Biology we started genetics and I really liked it." or "I yelled at my Geometry teacher again today." or maybe even, "Can you turn the radio up? I like this song." And I can't say it. In fact, I can't say anything at all because I'm thinking things like, "That's stupid." "They don't want to hear about that." "It's really not that important after all." along with, "OK, after this song is over I'll say it..." "Ah...they started talking I'll say it when they're done..." "Oh, I like this song, after I'm done listening to it I'll tell them...." and then suddenly we'd be home, it was only a 15 minute drive but it always seemed like I was thinking for hours.

Even now, more than 10 years later, I notice that more often than not I won't say the things I want to say. Can't say the things I mean to say. Not if they're incongruous with the image the person I'm talking to has of me. And definitely not if they're going to give that person some kind of information about...me...It's absurd, really. I'll freely tell people all the "bad" things I've done, all the "bad" things that have happened to me, and not feel the least bit compromised. But there's no way for me to force out things like, "This made me happy." "I thought you might like to hear about this." "I like ~. Do you like ~ too?" "I think ***. What do you think?" All those simple phrases we teach elementary school kids to express themselves with continue to elude me...

...I believe my best course of action would be to resign myself to a life alone. No one will ever love me because I won't let them...

Loading To Lie

It could just be because I teach people (kids) a method of communication for a living, but it's come to my attention recently that it's not something I'm very good at. Communicating things, I mean, not the teaching part. I'm awesome at that. (Well, if not awesome, at least popular...) Actually I get the feeling I may have made a post about this kind of thing before. Something about words spinning...I think the problem is that I mean to say things that I don't. Not that I don't mean the things I do say, just....I sometimes can't seem to say all of them. And it's not for lack of vocabulary (I've been reading the dictionary again after all...) I often think I'm good at deciphering what other people want to say, and then I get disappointed when they can't understand what I want to say. But I suppose it's no different from the way I'm always disappointed by people's lack of memory power. Even though I should know better than to expect it to be as good as mine by now (or to bother reminding them about it...it just ends with me looking nit-picky)

We were supposed to have this "super typhoon" this weekend, but just like always it's turned into nothing more than a lazy tropical storm. I hate the rain. I really do. I'm a bit fond of thunderstorms, but of course there's never any of that with something like this. But still....I can't help looking out my back door every time a band rolls through and feeling comforted. It reminds me of that home so many miles away, across oceans and skies that blend together in blue-gray nothingness. That home where I wasn't born but everyone believes I was. I never wanted to claim it, so why does it become dear to me when I'm gone?

I've been feeling lightheaded lately, like I'm almost dizzy but not quite. Or like I'm almost looking at myself from the outside, but not quite...there's some tiny thread keeping me tethered inside myself. (I hope it's just Mtn Dew withdrawal or something else that will go away on it's own...) I come back to myself and remember that I don't have much more time to be here and I find that I care less and less every time.

忘れてる、覚えてるそうして、私は消えていく...

The Time Discipline

I dyed my hair too dark again...I had one of those time slips I think...

They happen more often than I realize, as if the other ones of me are very busy...

Part of me still feels like I just got back from Italy yesterday, but of course that's not the case. I've been back for over a month. In just two more days I'll be 32. Thirty-two. It sounds ridiculously old. I can't seem to find any redeeming qualities about the number. I also can't bring myself to feel like it means I should be any different than I am at 31. If I haven't decided to start being "grown up" now, I'm guessing it's too late...

But at the same time...

...there's always that voice in the back of my head that worries...

...and makes me regret doing the things I like. It's not as though doing something else would have been better, just that by having done them other things have been lost or put off. Again. And again. And the regret is perhaps more about not having done those things that we promised ourselves we would. Things we had decided were important. Things we wanted to accomplish. Things that time might run out on if we're not careful.

When I realized it...by being loved, I was being washed away

The Bite

I have work to do. And I'm not doing it. Like, actual, real work. It's 5pm on Sunday. What the hell is wrong with this picture??

It's not that I'm not doing my work, I can tell you that much.

This girl I know lent me some manga and I really don't want to read it. I hate when people do that. They recommend stuff out of nowhere when they don't know anything about you & just expect you to take the time to start to like the thing they like. Seriously? OK, I get that they're just being nice. I get it. But you know what? I'm not nice. I don't have time to waste on shit that other people think of! I guess there are people who are happy when that kind of thing happens, but me? I don't budget time for "other people's shit" into my life. Sorry. It might be interesting, but all it is to me is extra stress b/c I know she wants me to read it. She wants me to read it and talk to her about it, and why do people do this? Don't they ever consider that I might have 8 million things I want to read already stacked up in my apartment? Don't they listen when I tell them how busy I am? Can't they see me running around all day at school obviously having no time to socialize with them? What the hell do they think I do at home? Sit around waiting for someone else to give me something to do? I guess when you still live with your parents that might be the case, but still...they know I live alone!

I have work to do, and I'm not doing it. I've been cleaning all day. I can't believe I've gotten so old that cleaning my apartment has become stress relief but it seems that's the way things are. I like clean. I like organized. I think it's probably a control issue...guess I'm still a little overwhelmed by the rate at which 2011 is going. Just like I knew I would be...and that was before we had a giant earthquake and I was whisked away to Italy so that even more things to do could pile up. I've cleaned my closet, under my bed, and ironed all my clothes. I hate ironing.

I may be feeling the first stirrings of Gogatsu-byo....it's May next week after all. And I have been running around like crazy for all of the first four months of this year. With May comes my birthday, and the start of my "real" job. Finally...but May also means summer in my head and not wanting to do anything but go out all the time. However, I have work to do now. I've been working on it all week long...and then, today it hit me. This is a huge fucking waste of time. The work that I'm doing now, is going to benefit other people. And not even people that I know, or will ever know. Usually, I don't mind working on stuff at home b/c it's some project that will make my job easier or better. But this? Nope. It's just me giving information I have -and have had to search for, and soon won't need ever again- to other people who probably won't try to use it anyway. They'll still act clueless and do things wrong, and this time, this time I won't even be there to yell at them for it. I've been spending hours working on something that I won't even see the results of.

I want things I cannot have.

I have work to do.

I may be down the well again...

Then again, maybe I'm never really out of it, just imagining that I am...

...your heartstring's out of tune again...