Category Archives: Uncategorized

Why the Blog has Become Defunct

After two years, two years worth of frustration and emotion and a perpetual critic in my head, I stood up to the bully and began to write.

I’m working on a novel. Have written every day since the first of September. It’s shitty at times and I have no idea what’s happening, but I’m doing it. And it’s taking all my writing energy.

So the Blog is on Permanent Hiatus.


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The Art of Depression

It’s been a long time. I have a dozen or so books to catch up on, and I just can’t do it. Once more, I’m fighting a battle in the hundred-years-war.

I’m not good enough. I can’t do anything. Everyone else is being amazing, and I’m still in this quagmire.

I texted a friend the other night while at work. In my long message, I’ve commented on something I think about constantly: “I lost so much in high school and college, personality and vibrancy wise. The depression crept in on top of so-called intellectualism, and I was too tired, too jaded, to stop it…” That’s how I’m feeling again and again. I start to pull through, to find my way out of the riptide, only to get a cramp, and fall back into drowning in my own life.

I have no motivation.

Tonight, I almost walked into the front of a moving car. Not on purpose. But because I’m just stumbling through life, so completely lost that I forget to look where I’m going. My mind is cracking: I find myself yelling the same three sentences over and over, sentences that sound constructed by a two year old. Twenty-three years of life has disappeared, save for the memories that no one wants to remain, and I’m a toddler again, living in my parent’s care, no complete sense of self yet, a world more black and white as my palette hasn’t developed color.

On the way home, I wanted to put my foot to the gas, to drive as fast as I could. I couldn’t go fast enough. I couldn’t escape, not the thoughts, not the memories, not the emotions.

I’m off my meds. i get tired of the stigma, tired of taking them every night with a — count them!– one, two, three. Staring at them, pulling them out. I’m tired of it. This does not define me. But some days… It seems like people see this side of you, see through your melting facade, and know that you’re a lost cause.

I am strong. I am brilliant. But I keep forgetting to remind myself.

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Ikkalee’s reading and writing life is MIA

Between complaining about my job, struggling with my emotional life, and a current obsession with crossword puzzles, I have been only vaguely thinking novels. Instead, I have a perpetual headache, ridiculous exhaustion, and am balancing on the line between changing my life and crashing into the slums. It ain’t fun.

Right now, I am on a quest: the quest to write the non-boring cover letter. I hate writing them. You hate reading them. Why do we waste our time?

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“It was a pleasure to burn.”

I grew up in my early teens with a dislike of Ray Bradbury.  It started in a seventh grade language arts class when I was 13.  The teacher introduced a Ray Bradbury story but it was so odd…  I don’t think she gave us enough backing and the language wasn’t my favorite.  Needless to say, after a few days of reading, she pulled the story from us and we never finished it.  From then on I avoided anything by Ray Bradbury.

Then I turned 16.  I had heard about Fahrenheit 451 via The Famous Jett Jackson back when I was about 14.  I had checked the book out from the library but had failed to get farther than the first few pages.  A year later and I found my uncle’s old copy in my grandparents basement (when my parents and aunts/uncles went to school, you bought your books.  I have since usurped all their copies).  He said he didn’t want it and so, when I was 16, I read it.

I was enthralled: why had I disliked this author?  I stood up in front of my sophomore English class and asked if anyone else had ever had that experience.  My wording was off; they were all confused.  But I had given Ray Bradbury a second chance and I was so glad that I had.

Admittedly, I have not read much Ray Bradbury, but Fahrenheit 451 sticks in my mind to this day, 8 years later.

Today, Ray Bradbury died.

And though I am slow in noticing the lives and deaths of authors, I feel I must say:

“It was a pleasure to burn, sir.  It was a pleasure to read.”

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A Confession

I haven’t felt like updating. I’ve been working, been sleeping, been enjoying the March 80(!) degree weather. And I’ve been reading Proust.

I’m a third of the way through. It’s a hard read and sometimes I want to read something else, which then in turn makes me have five books of at least 50 pages in, and not wanting to read any of them.

Yes. That is my life. A real update to come soon.

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Miss Me?

After accidentally locking myself out of the account and being unwilling to reset a password I would forget on a public computer, I decided to update entries with my iPhone. And then I wrote an eulogy to Borders and, being new to my iPhone, accidentally deleted it. That and my ridiculously busy schedule– easily working 80 – 90 hour work weeks– meant I did some reading, but did not actually record anything. Updates to recommence shortly.

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Just a Brief Update…

It’s been over a week since I’ve updated. I’ve been doing other things, like puzzles and beadwork. I’m still reading– currently about 3 books. But I have this nasty habit of falling asleep mid-page, so the progress is not currently as swift as I would like.

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