Sun in Aquarius, Moon in Pisces

Trying something new again - I downloaded a free astrology program called Astrolog to keep track of daily transits and positions. Anyone interested can download it here:

http://www.astrolog.org/astrolog.htm

I'm feeling energetic and creative today and I have several projects I want to start. My web site have been languishing far too long and deserve some attention, as does the site I've made for Oneiros, the D&D campaign setting I'm making with Terry. I just finished a freelance site I worked on with Guido and hope to be paid soon. He found another project for a client in London - it's sounds like it will be quick and easy and a little extra cash to boot. I can't wait to start on that either. The sooner we're finished, the sooner we'll get paid.

Andy is leaving on a business trip this week, so I have mixed feelings. I will miss him a lot, but I hope I spend the time wisely. Some stuff I plan on doing while he's gone: write, write, write! Practice the ceremonial magick exercises more deeply. Exercise. Do yoga. Paint my miniatures for my game. Get Valentine's Day decorations and presents.

journaling

I can't for the life of me figure out what to write here, although I have felt a urge to write something for the last few days. I haven't even really written in my personal (offline) journal for a couple of days - time still is eluding me. I wonder why it is so difficult to maintain any kind of schedule. What is it about me that can't consistently get up at the same time every day and maintain a routine? My first response is laziness and then maybe simple inertia, but sometimes I wonder if there is something more subtle or subsconscious at work within me.

Journaling is a strange process for me. I don't really seem to say anything in my journals. Much of my private ones are simply self-doubt repeated over and over or lists of things I need or want to do - pretty dull reading for anyone who might stumble across them in the future, I'd say. They aren't a true reflection of me or my life. Sure, I do have a lot of self-doubt and I can be pretty critical of myself, too, but my mind isn't generally occupied with these kinds of thoughts. Usually I just daydream and make up stories to amuse myself. Sometimes, I think about more philosophical topics. But I don't really think of me, except in an almost abstract way. I'm the hero of a daydream or maybe I'm an actor playing the hero of a movie based on the daydream. I'm never me, Betsy, the person who takes out the dog or sits in front of computer 8 hours a day. I'm ashamed that I don't look forward to a future for myself - I don't daydream about a fantasy trip with Andy or even about what I'll do this next summer. It's as if I don't really exist to myself.

I wonder a lot about what other people think about. Do they have richly detailed dream worlds that they spend most of their lives in, or are they more practical and daydream about a new car, a better job, or sex with the cute person they see in line at Starbuck's?

What's supposed to be in a journal anyway? Should you write to the imaginary person who will read them after you are long gone or write as if no one, not even yourself, will ever read your words?

Creative Process

I'm trying to use a client for the first time to update my journal. I guess I'll see how it works. :)

I'm working with a friend right now on a personal project, which is creating a new fantasy setting for the d20 role-playing game. It's an interesting process. I've never worked with anyone on a creative project, and I'm worried I'm a little too interested (read: obsessed with) in it. For every email he writes, I write five. I've already made a web site for it, made forums, etc. I worry that I am being too pushy and taking it over, but I really enjoy writing and role-playing, so this is exciting to me.

We came across our first pitfall, though. The name we had originally chosen was rather inappropriate, so we are trying to come up with a new name. Unfortunately, every cool name we came up with has already been taken as a domain. I'm pretty sure we will have to setting for a compound name of some kind. Sort of icky, but probably not a big deal. The setting name I am hoping for is evocative and has lots of potential for fantastic elements. It's up to Terry now.

Our gaming group is going to be playing again on Saturday, which makes me most happy. I will be running my Star Wars d20 game, which I have been enjoying a lot, even more than I expected.

Welcome to 2003

It's a little odd looking at this journal now. The last entry was before we moved into the condo, and now we have lived here for over six months. I love it here. It very much like home, very comfortable and comforting. I've just spent two weeks here over Christmas vacation - I rarely left, just stayed in front of the computer or drank coffee in our sun room or read or wrote. I feel very, very good, very relaxed and whole, although today I did feel a sudden loneliness for friendship. I miss having friends, and I feel left out and lonely. I hope this will change once the group finally gets back together for our weekly Saturday game session, but I do worry that too much time has gone by, even if it has been only a month or so. I miss them, I miss doing things with people who laugh and talk and are creative. I miss being close.

I did make some New Year's Resolutions. Some of them are magic related, some health related (physical and mental), some creative. I plan to write more, exercise more, meditate more, communicate more, stay in touch with family and friends more, create more. Take classes and figure out what it is that I want to do with the rest of my life.

Moving...

Andy closes on the condominium today, in about a half hour from the time I am writing this, actually. He was nervous this morning and suddenly, I became nervous, too. I'm not so worried about the expense of it as I am worried about how much this will change our lives. It's funny that I've been craving change for some time now, and when it feels like a change will be happening at last, I want to pull the covers over my head and hide.

I think I'll be better once we're finally living in the new place. Right now we are surrounded by boxes and just...waiting. Waiting for this day actually, and now everything should be moving pretty fast from here on out. There will be a constant stream of electricians, painters, movers, and boxes. Lots of boxes. Lots of shopping, too, I suspect, from Andy tone. He is craving a fresh start, too, and he wants to get rid of most of our furniture to buy new, if his finances permit it.

I think it could be too much too soon too little time. I understand his enthusiasm, but I also understand his anxiety about money. I wish that I could be more of a help, but I'm not. I'm just not making a whole lot of money right now. I'm not successful like he is, and sometimes I wonder if I ever will be out of debt. I've come a long way, but I still have so far to go that I feel discouraged by it.


I just wish it were 29 May already.

Being pecked to death by small birds

This morning, while walking Surly, I watched a small bird fly into the window of a parked car. It bounced off the glass and turned to fly into the window of a nearby building. It ricocheted off the window pane and struck me in the shoulder. Since I was jogging at the time, I was quite startled, but probably more surprised that bird was still alive and flew to safety in a nearby tree.

This is a fitting metaphor for my life right now. I feel like I am being bombarded but I can never tell where each little bomb is coming from. They are tiny, mind you, but numerous. It could be anything from running out of packing tape while in the middle of filling cardboard boxes with our belongings for this move at the end of the month. It could be all the minutiae of packing itself, like remembering to change your address with your bank and your magazine subscriptions. It could be the living with boxes and the incredible shrinking apartment as we do the elaborate dance to try to get around each other, and the dog, while getting ready for work.

This wouldn't be so bad except that my job is unsettled as well. I am moving into a new position (allegedly), so I have tie up all the loose ends, which are a tangled mess left over from my boss, who was fired. On top of this, there is one more alumni event I have to help with, which equates to hundreds (literally) of phone calls with registrants. Finally, the time off I desperately need to help with the condo is in question as well. So many things I thought were done deals aren't. Everything feels messy and don't feel like I have any escape from these hassles and aggravation, even if it's a only temporary reprieve.

I'm so grouchy all of the time. I feel claustrophobic, and I have very little patience. I can't even imagine what life in the new place will be like. I can't imagine what colors the walls will be or what it will be like to have two bathrooms or to have coffee on the back deck or in the sunroom in the summer morning. I can't wait to see an actual dining room with an actual table and chairs. Or the blue room.

Andy showed me a picture from a magazine of the blue room. It's simply a room with different shades of blue paint (and a great purple couch) and other blue accents, but there was something about the color against the wood floor, the contrast of cool colors, that gave me a sense of comfort and calm and joy all at once. Andy promised me that there would be a blue room in the condo, so I hope we can make one. I think I need one.

Passing Notes in Class

On the train, I saw a man pass another man a note.

I hadn't noticed that they had been making eye contact with each other the entire trip. One man had to de-train at Belmont, so he surreptitiously handed the other a folded piece of paper and murmured something in his ear in passing. This happened so quickly and so smoothly that I'm sure I was the only one that saw the exchange. The object of affection did not open the note, but clasped it tightly in one fist, like a treasure, all the way to downtown.

The moment was sweet and touching, at least to me. It reminded me of school-days crushes where we'd pass notes in class: "if you like me, please check this box." There is something wonderful about that, the thrill and blush of a new possibility for romance, and also something almost innocent, in spite of our grown-up exteriors.