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It has been a long, long time since I posted in my LJ. It's not that I don't like reading the entries you post. Rather, I find myself choosing to do other things with my time. Mostly, I get in from work, log into World of Warcraft (WoW), and play until I have to go to bed. Luckily, I don't play like that every day, but it's a near thing sometimes. More on what I've been up to lately later. First, I want to get this next part out.
I found myself at home alone this afternoon. My roommate got off work early so that he could go to his family's big Christmas event down in Independence, MS. As is my habit now, I got on World of Warcraft and played a bit, and worked on levelling a mage named Drakmoore on Uldaman. Logging out when I realized I was falling asleep while running around, I dozed in my computer chair, which is also a habit I've had for a long time.
Waking up, I stepped outside to get some fresh air and read more of Memory of Fire, by Holly Lisle. This has got to be the most original fantasy novel I've read in years. The more I read it, the more drawn into the story I become. Reading until my fingers were stiff and my legs were going numb (they'd been propped on the railing on our patio), I came inside to continue reading.
Once inside, however, I felt something. I knew that reading wasn't good enough. WoW wasn't even remotely interesting. I felt that there was something that I should do, but I cannot put my finger on it. It almost feels as though Everything Will Be Alright, if I could just discover what this activity is. It even prompted me to post, after two solid months of silence. I thought that through putting my thoughts down, I might get a glimpse at what I want to do. I've thought about other things I like doing, and nothing "fits": not miniature painting, not campaign world creation, not making dinner (Hamburger Helper, homemade mashed potatoes & gravy, and green beans), not even watching more episodes of the Dungeons & Dragons cartoon, whose box set I got on the day it was released.
I'm wearing my old, tattered insulated flannel shirt, and my iPod is feeding me a steady stream of metal ballads through the earbuds I'm wearing. The houseshoes on my feet are keeping my feet toasty, and the apartment is utterly quiet. In some ways, I feel completely alone. Not lonely, but rather as if I am the only one in existence on this planet. It's like Nightwish said in their song, "Lagoon":
Hmm, perhaps I just need a longer nap. I've dozed off a couple of time writing this, and when I wake up, it's jarring. Basically, it's like I found something of what I needed or wanted to find in my slumber, and waking up yanks me out unceremoniously. I might as well. Even if it's not the right thing, it's a start.
I found myself at home alone this afternoon. My roommate got off work early so that he could go to his family's big Christmas event down in Independence, MS. As is my habit now, I got on World of Warcraft and played a bit, and worked on levelling a mage named Drakmoore on Uldaman. Logging out when I realized I was falling asleep while running around, I dozed in my computer chair, which is also a habit I've had for a long time.
Waking up, I stepped outside to get some fresh air and read more of Memory of Fire, by Holly Lisle. This has got to be the most original fantasy novel I've read in years. The more I read it, the more drawn into the story I become. Reading until my fingers were stiff and my legs were going numb (they'd been propped on the railing on our patio), I came inside to continue reading.
Once inside, however, I felt something. I knew that reading wasn't good enough. WoW wasn't even remotely interesting. I felt that there was something that I should do, but I cannot put my finger on it. It almost feels as though Everything Will Be Alright, if I could just discover what this activity is. It even prompted me to post, after two solid months of silence. I thought that through putting my thoughts down, I might get a glimpse at what I want to do. I've thought about other things I like doing, and nothing "fits": not miniature painting, not campaign world creation, not making dinner (Hamburger Helper, homemade mashed potatoes & gravy, and green beans), not even watching more episodes of the Dungeons & Dragons cartoon, whose box set I got on the day it was released.
I'm wearing my old, tattered insulated flannel shirt, and my iPod is feeding me a steady stream of metal ballads through the earbuds I'm wearing. The houseshoes on my feet are keeping my feet toasty, and the apartment is utterly quiet. In some ways, I feel completely alone. Not lonely, but rather as if I am the only one in existence on this planet. It's like Nightwish said in their song, "Lagoon":
"Feeling lonely and content at the same time,
I believe, is a rare kind of happiness"
I believe, is a rare kind of happiness"
Hmm, perhaps I just need a longer nap. I've dozed off a couple of time writing this, and when I wake up, it's jarring. Basically, it's like I found something of what I needed or wanted to find in my slumber, and waking up yanks me out unceremoniously. I might as well. Even if it's not the right thing, it's a start.
