December 26th, 2004

multiple user

Self-Discovery

I refer to myself as "the Lunatic", rather than Azure. Azure feels funny, stiff and formal and not-me. But I call myself "the Lunatic", and sign myself "Loony", often as not, when leaving notes on the kitchen whiteboard.

I'd never given much thought as to why this was, until I suddenly realized, when an introspective mood and the right music coincided. The Lunatic is in my head. I ran around school, singing that song with the Azzgrin on my face, because it suited me, suited us.

But why not Azure? Azz is still me, but not Azure. I have a difficult time remembering that I ever answered to Azure. Azure is gone now. Accepting messages addressed to Azure feels very much like I'm taking messages to be passed on to a dead woman. Looking that one over, it seems that the Collective answers in whole or job-specific as appropriate to Azz, the Lunatic, Azure Lunatic, and any of the body names and nicknames, and answers in specific to specific names (such as Dagger and Naomi, and someone makes sure a message is taken if they can't talk right now), but when we're addressed by a specific name and the specifically-named doesn't exist anymore, it's like being called the wrong body-name, only weirder. I bristle when called John or Jo-Ann; I bristle the same way when called Azure. That isn't my name. No one home who answers to that name.

Azure was the original Lunatic. She was born when my Evil Ex BJ had a gaming group and they were doing a Vampire: The Masquerade Live Action Role-Playing game. I decided to play a Malkavian, one of the utterly mad vampire clan. Collapse ) No one really talked to Azure. People mostly talked about Azure, mostly trying to make sure she stayed under control. People mostly addressed her as Azz, when they talked to her. By the time most people, people on LJ, started talking to me under the guise Azure Lunatic, it was the Whole Merged Collective answering to the name. When the next split happened, there was no Azure.

It's a dead name, delivering to a null mailbox. There is no Azure. There's an Azz, and a Lunatic, and of course azurelunatic. No Azure. (Also, no spoon, but that's a different movie...)
  • Current Music
    "The Dark Side Of The Moon - Trance Remix" by Pink Floyd
documentation, writing, quill

On Circumstances

Perhaps there is something amiss when I am in a mental place where can say to myself in all seriousness, "I suppose I deserve $NEGATIVE_SOCIAL_THINGY because I am a freak."


Muggles, pens, words, music, poetry, journals, dreams ... circumstances. And it takes one cryptic thing to get me to realize exactly how much another cryptic thing really should be bothering me. Warning flags. I know I didn't explain it well enough the last time I talked the second cryptic thing over with my priestess-confessor. Circumstances. Marginalized.

A specific Negative Social Thingy happened, see, much like other negative social thingies that have happened to me over the years. This was quite some time ago, and I came to the sad conclusion that it was because I am a Freak. Time passed, and other Negative Social Thingies happened, again, because I am a Freak. Then, much to my utter surprise, I learned that this specific Negative Social Thingy from a while ago was not, in fact because I am a Freak, but because of what were (in all honesty) some pretty unavoidable circumstances utterly unrelated to me. This is making me re-evaluate all things that I have assumed have happened to me because I am a freak, now.

I am, still, a freak. Perhaps, however, I don't deserve all the bullshit.


I miss the Monkeys. More than them, I miss the Circle of Chaos with all my heart. The five of us got in such mischief, and we managed to emerge from it with reasonable safety and sanity, but most importantly, with each other.
  • Current Music
    "La Cumparsita"
grammar bitch

The NaNo Editor Blues

AAAAAAAGH! The romance novel-in-progress I'm going over this week is kicking my ass, mostly because I cannot identify with the protagonist.

Does the "modern woman" really think like that? Honestly?

... can I please either live somewhen else, or be not-a-woman?

I'm almost ready to scream and fling things, not because of the quality of the writing, but because of the subject matter. I need to call Darkside for an antidote to the superficial bullshit. Good gods. (The writing is technically excellent, but there needs to be a lot more Things Happening, rather than keeping it all as interior monologue. That's leaving aside the content, which leaves me running screaming.)


In contrast, of course, I must recall with fondness exactly how much I utterly enjoyed reading the pirate book for the story. If that's a story that the author considers poor to mediocre, then I'm utterly dying to read the one she liked writing.
trust, best friends forever, snot-nosed brats

Pure unadulterated happiness comes in 15 minute increments, via phone.

Called Darkside, who was home recovering from Christmas. He was tired. I was hyper. We giggled. I managed to get a new notion into our constant debate over his sanity: if he says his sanity is debatable, then there's enough material to make good arguments for either side. So ha!

I still have no idea what I'm going to get for him. He's very difficult to shop for.