Tired induced deepness

Today I'm quite tired (seems to be perpetual, eh? "Chronic" as one person has said). I guess I'm tired a lot, but only when I'm not doing anything, which is usually when I choose to write on here. When I'm busy I don't have time to stop and think that I'm tired. I'm tired today because I had to wake up early for a meeting, which sucked because I was so dead asleep at 7:20 this morning I didn't even hear my alarm go off and then at 8 I had to force myself up with the reasoning that my whole future depended on how fast I could get dressed.

I want to write about something that happened to me while I was gone, but I don't want to divulge the exact nature just because it isn't exactly something I want the world to know (so you ask why I'm posting it to my blog. Good question. I don't have an answer). Basically, I was humbled by an ironic experience. My entire life certain things have always come easy and, understandably, I take my ability to get them for granted and don't take advantage of it. Sometime over my time away last week, I realized that I wanted one of those things pretty badly. Much to my astonishment and disappointment, I wasn't able to get it. For the first time I had to take a step back and think. (It was similar to the time I got my first grade below an A.) I was stunned, speechless, wondering how the heck something like that could happen. I mean, it shouldn't happen. I'm me, I'm amazing. Pretty ironic how the first time I wanted something that always came so easy, I couldn't get it. There was a little hurt pride there, but I bounced back quickly. I hope any of that made sense. Just thoughts that have been bouncing around in my head for a few days.

I write stories often (and am pretty dang awesome at it if I do say so myself). I actually think in stories a lot of the time, which makes the whole writing part easier and better. I'm kinda protective of the things I write because they aren't just some paper thrown together for school, they're the product of my own imagination and mind. There's a vulnerability when you write your thoughts on paper. Anybody can read them and there's a big chance that person won't like them or will think differently of you. It's like letting someone tap into your head and listen in. Over the past few months I've gotten more comfortable with letting people read my work, but there's still hesitation. Even with stories designed for other people to read I have to convince myself that I won't die from humiliation or anything like that. Maybe sometime I'll post an excerpt from a story on here and get feedback. There are a few stories I've thought of lately that I haven't gotten around to writing. One of them I have only a title, another I have an opening paragraph, and then another one I have an entire plot and some fine details. I think maybe I'll start waking up early to type them, starting with one that originated in a dream almost perfectly formed. All I had to do when I woke up was get rid of some of the more dream-like elements and base them in reality. Things like that make me love my subconscious.

♥ j.j.