Video Games & Totoro

After the starters for Pokémon Sun and Moon were announced, I decided to load my old Pokémon X and Pokémon Alpha Sapphire saves because it had been so long since I'd played either of those games, and there were lots of little things I'd forgotten about, like all the glorious fashion choices they brought in for X and Y. I like the little cropped hoodies. I do not like the lack of good hair accessories. More hair bows, please!

Suddenly I really miss video games (and character customisation, which I live for). I haven't really played anything much for a long time, and I miss all my old worlds and cities and towns and responsibilities. I've stopped caring who moves in and out in my Animal Crossing: New Leaf town, and actually I think that's a nice way to play the game. You get to meet more animals and not worry about it. As long as Blathers is still there (my beautiful sleepy owl) I'm fine.

I thought I'd make a couple of quick scanner collages just because I think it's a nice showcase of a few things that are nearby right now, and also it's a nice representation (and extension) of my current journaling style (and if you notice I used to spell it 'journalling' - I've decided to switch over to the more commonly used spelling and that's okay because language and spelling are a journey, or something). Scanning some stuff that's around me occasionally just feels right. There's usually a Totoro in there somewhere.

Diary: Classics & Aliens

This week was: fun walks in the sun, reading alien-centric literature, watching X-Files bloopers, eating many raisins, seeing four different cats, starting to read Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell, experience a strong desire to listen to Depeche Mode and then doing just that, and dying my hair red.

I've been reading a few of the Penguin Little Black Classics, because I love how small and portable they are, and my favourite so far is Goethe's "Sketchy, Doubtful, Incomplete Jottings" - I like this because it is essentially a list of thoughts. I am a big fan of both lists and thoughts. Sometimes I myself have both.

My main book focus at the moment is Cranford (which I already like just one page in), and I want to go through the Penguin English Library list and read my way through some of those classics. The cover designs are really pleasing and make me a little bit more motivated to read them. I also really want to re-start The X-Files and power through all the episodes, as I've been watching them in quite an erratic way and missing out on lots of them, so it'll be nice to go through them all in chronological order. Those are my plans, alongside rapidly fading my hair back to its natural colour again over the next couple of weeks, and attending a little YouTube meetup this weekend.

Journal: Fun Photo Album & Depeche Mode

I painted some colourful blobs and glitter all over Depeche Mode because y'know, they look a bit gloomy - they could use some glitter.

I'm closing in on the end of this journal and it's looking pretty chunky now, with pages satisfyingly thick with paint and collage. One of my favourite things to collage every so often is personal photos, because it feels like being a kid and making a macaroni frame. What's a photo album without glitter and scribbled hearts?

I really want to do more pages like this one because there's nothing better than revelling in cute little moments of your own life and romanticising yourself and the things you care about.

There's also some pages of green and yellow paint because sometimes when I'm done painting I have leftover paint and I get to make something quick and cute with it. Good.

Tiny Adventures & Bravery

I've been thinking about inspiration and adventure and life and I realised there are some things I'd like to do that I avoid or am at least very tentative with because it concerns a process that feels kinda private (like talking to a camera) or it involves working with someone else (like posing with someone for a photo). I also realise that when I make the extra to do those things despite any feelings of discomfort I may have, I never regret it. Sometimes I don't end up with the result I wanted, but I never feel like I've wasted my time or posed an inconvenience to other people. I might feel a little embarrassed, but I think that's worth it for a creative pursuit that I'm excited about, and to involve people in that a little bit.

I see and come up with lots of fun little ideas that involve a little bit more effort and perserverence and sometimes planning than usual, and I really want to be able to just go for it and do the things that make me happy and be unapolagetically creative. It's rewarding to make something happen when there's an obstacle to it.

I also feel like it's a question of artistic honesty too, in a way, because when I do these things that take a little bit of embarrassment or extra arrangement they feel very genuine. If I'm pushing harder to do something than usual, it means I must care about that thing, so there's a unique kind of satisfaction. And I love when I get to make and share those moments and ideas. It's the greatest thing ever.  So I'm going to focus on making more of those tiny adventures happen.

Never Giving Up

If there's one thing I've learned about learning, and getting and being what you want, it's to never give up on anything. The only way something 100% definitely will not happen is if you don't try, but if you keep trying to become a cyborg squirrel nurse, if it never happens you will still probably have gained a lot of robotic/nursing/squirrel knowledge and perhaps some related opportunities. You might know loads of squirrels by the end of it that have adopted you into their family and invited you for dinner. And you might have a cool cybernetic arm that makes delightful memes at the touch of a button. Life is unpredictable in its gifts and coincidences and rewards, but the more you go for stuff, the more other stuff you will inevitably find as a result of the chain reaction of living.

So do your best and try the same thing again and again until it works, and experiment with slightly altered methods of doing everything from brushing your teeth to welding to sculpting custom penguin-shaped toilet bowls. Do everything and anything. Say yes to as much as you can and say no when your instincts tell you to. Do weird things and be decisive when you suddenly have thoughts about eating biscuits in the middle of doing something. You go get those biscuits, and then read seven Wikipedia pages related to biscuits and learn what the word for biscuit is in a few other languages (keks in German, keksi in Finnish, suchar in Czech). 

Me thinking intently about biscuits.

Be determined and diligent, never give up, and indulge your pleasant and inconsequential whims frequently (especially about biscuits).

Pink Fade

The transparency of skin is cool. Like, I'm pink because of blood. Why is pink considered a colour of softness and sweetness when it's a watery echo of violence, hurt, life, pain, and ultimately life force? Pink could just as easily be a marker of rage, or strength, or bloody sacrifice. To me, pink has an ethereal quality. It transcends its place within the body. It's not skin, because skin is ghostly see-through layers and yellowed, mottled pages and deep, rich browns. Pink is a calming of the blood and a shifting of perceptions. It's care and gift-wrap and ribbons in your hair. It's being and becoming a kind of softness that is impenetrable and exclusively yours.

I have a lot of colour associations, really. Pink is a meeting between harm and care. The place in the sky where the sun meets home.

This pink reminds me of sun-faded posters, and that's what I aspire to be. The sun fade of a grown up in a decades old t-shirt. The fade in a film photo. The comforting, unmatched fade of a prolonged and reliable base level of contentedness. That's my dearest wish and hope, to keep it and nurture it. That beautiful pink fade.

Personal Truth

Reality is a funny thing in that it hides itself. It makes itself a secret. Its malleability is hidden behind a sheen of constancy and alleged truth. We're so sure of things, because we have to be, but how can we be sure of anything? We're all carrying around our truths, like swaddled babies. Our truths are all so different, like our ice cream flavour preferences and our genetics.

We all have dreams sometimes that feel so completely real while we're inside them. I had a dream the other night that I cracked an egg and it was filled with blood. I've had multiple dreams about all my teeth falling out like jelly, or about being tangled with endless, shape-shifting bodies. Sometimes I have nice dreams about meeting dogs or eating spaghetti, so it's not all creepy body-horror stuff and social transgressions (how many years after leaving school can you expect to stop dreaming about being naked at school?), but regardless they are a fascinating insight into the brain's processing of what it knows, or whatever it has collected.

I get this feeling like all of my life is a dream. I mean, I know the difference between my dreams and my waking life (when I'm awake at least, and not counting daydreams), but I've gone through so many cycles and phases of shifting perceptions about so many things in my life. I've grown up. I've realised things. I've completely changed opinions and attitudes. My truth has grown into a completely contradictory truth, over and over. So I guess my truth is relative, and shifting. Everything is real, and nothing is real.