Inside the Mind of a Nathan

Dreams. I still have this fascination with dreams. It makes me think of the book "The Cloud Spinner" or the game "Psychonauts." It makes me think of how the elves in "Eragon" sung their homes out of the trees. It makes me think of Einstein who would always laud imagination over knowledge. It makes me think of people who spurn fiction because it's a "waste of time." It makes me think of all the truths that evade us because we're too comfortable thinking we can understand the universe.

1028 words: solid progress. More and more, I know how much I'll need to redraft so much of my book, but, at the same time, I sense the strength of the story more and more. Tensions are rising between Chirrratka and Rrraktotrrraka. (I know: I may have to change their names. For now, I am content with their titles "the slaver" and "the librarian" respectively. Hopefully, that will suffice.)

It's still a funny planet. 2016: the year of petty politics and Pokemon Go. What are we doing? I mean, collectively, what are we doing? We're so dupable. We're like children: when offered A, B, or C, we fail to think about the twenty-three other options. What's even better is, when offered Trump, Clinton, or Sanders, we think we're defying the system by voting libertarian. We've found the hidden option: clever, clever us. Even the candidates themselves aren't so surprising; we've been a self-obsessed, invasive country for a long time. There are too many individuals, however, that seem to waddle right behind this or that individual without a thought in the world. "Brains? When am I ever gonna use this?" My apologies. In other news, it's amazing how flavors can be associated with colors. I have some kind of strawberry beverage; it obviously looks pink, but I thought to myself, "this definitely tastes pink." A sup...

I don't know about you, but sometimes I can be such a whiny, little female dog. I haven't quite learned how to preempt the whining, but I can occasionally rout it. I made a new comic. It stretches my original objective, but I don't think my comic has to stay inside strict boundaries. In other news, I am an extrovert. I know that most of you knew that. I know that I knew it, but I never knew it was quite like it is. When I spend time with people, good people, it splashes this wash of hope and energy and determination and focus over most of my life. The past few days have had pretty much the exact same circumstances that I've always had, but the conversations and joys I've shared with friends in the recent past have stuck with me. I still feel as tired as ever, but I don't feel weighed down by the grayness.

It's a good day. I had a good talk with a friend last night. I had a good talk with my mom this morning. It's a good day. Also, I got to move heavy things yesterday. I don't think I'm opposed to exercising so much as opposed to paying to exercise. I am regularly asking people to let me help them move. People are so surprised at that offer. It kind of makes sense: it's hard work, and many people are too busy being busy and important. However, it's some of the best exercise FOR FREE, and the people whom you move often feed you, and it makes them so happy, and why in the world would you not want to help someone move?! In other news, women are attractive. I don't know if you've noticed, but God made His daughters really good-looking. Another thing I've noticed: smiles make such a huge difference. You can have the stereotypical best features ever; if you have a grumpy frown, it's just not attractive. And I'm not talking about a sad face in...

I began a new painting today. I'm not sure how I feel about it yet, but it is only a first draft, so it wouldn't make sense to like it just yet. I do like the swirling split between the blue and the yellow, but the red strands seem a little frail. We'll see what happens next week. In other news, conversations are nice: just normal, simple conversations about normal, simple things. I'm not sure how to distinguish. I think small talk is the talk people use when they don't want to talk. In contrast, however, there is simple talk that people use when having pleasant conversations. For the longest time, I thought I only ever wanted intense conversations because people were always telling me I only ever wanted intense conversations because I can rarely stomach small talk. Today, I vividly realized that small talk  is very distinct from non-intense talking. I'll have to make a chart. I love charts. !!! I just envisioned a venn diagram! It might even make s...

Unfortunately, there are other thingies I have to do, but I got a good chunk written in a reasonable amount of time. The plot is staying pretty solid. Some of the pieces have rough edges, but I think it's coming together wonderfully. Draft 1 will of course require a lot of work, but draft 3 is going to be a very compelling story. As I delve further into "the old words," I'm less and less opposed to the idea of having a sequel. Originally, I thought to myself that I just want to write Meadowvale and be done with that whole storyline; I thought that I would want to move onto something with dragons or cyborgs or full-on magical stuff. I even have another story I've been sketching together these past few years. However, Meadowvale is starting to provide an intriguing, mystical opportunity for taking that world farther. In a hypothetical sequel, I vaguely imagine Allison being a master rune-wielder of sorts; Alabaster and she might even be together. I could to...

I feel less tired than usual but more pensive than usual. I know God has good plans for me, but I still feel stuck or sticky. I feel as though I'm covered in some sticky substance: not quite a trap, but it still slows me down and feels uncomfortable. Yesterday was a lovely day—a really pleasant, lovely day. Sometimes, I think I might just have an ungrateful heart. I am grateful for my family. I am grateful for my friends. I am grateful for my job. For opportunities to write. Opportunities to paint. My car that still works. Journalism: I was telling a friend about how I want to write and travel and meet people and explore and write about people and write about what I see, and she mentioned journalism. I don't know how no one ever mentioned that before. Maybe somebody did; maybe my heart wasn't ready for such a notion at that time. It made so much sense though. I'd probably still get to write novels on the side, but I'd get paid to write stories about real-lif...

It's Friday. I'm feeling lazy. I almost had a respectably productive evening until I sat down for a few minutes. Now, I'm just tired. I haven't posted a new comic in a while, so here's one for the books: Line Evolution Science at its finest. Don't get me started on science. Don't get me started on logic either. Chocolate. You can get me started on chocolate. Maybe ice cream. Maybe a milkshake. Sadly, I really have to start going to the gym. This Monday, I moved a bunch of heavy boxes to rearrange the office, and I felt great the rest of the day. Last night, I exercised a bit, and I felt normal for most of today. I've been avoiding it so well for so long! I failed. Sigh. For now, I'm going to do something uneventful. Pip pip, cheerio.

Only 311 words. I was distracted by a lot of other things. It started with a kindergarten visiting Starbucks. It was way too adorable. The kindergarten principal, vice principal, and one of the teachers each read a book to the 20 or so kids. It broke my heart. I've wanted kids for a long time now. Besides that, I had to transcribe some notes for my upcoming vlog and ideas for publicizing my writing. I also started reworking my budget. I also had to jot some notes about a small article I want to write. Last night, I was playing Destiny. The game itself is nothing too spectacular. Somehow, though, it hooked me. Borderlands (another game) is 50% RPG + 50% FPS. In my mind, I've always said Destiny is 50% Borderlands + 50% FPS = 25% RPG 75% FPS. It's just enough RPG to appease me. In any case, it's a chaotic game full of space-jumping and explosions and guns and explosions. Mom asked what the point of such a game is. I asked her what the point of Yhatzee is. Sh...

I just want the world to write poetry all day long. That's not quite exact, but it's close. I want more quality poetry. I can never forget the comfort a dear friend brought to me when she identified a distinction: Some write poetry as a craft, with skill, with hard work. Some write "poetry" as a pseudo-non-prose emotional outlet. Regrettably, not many make that distinction. I'm a serious fan of poetry. I always want to share it; typically, people intimate that they don't really like poetry, that they don't even quite get poetry. I am proud to say that, on more than one occasion, I have shared a poem with said persons, and they've responded with, "Oh, I like that one!" If you're at all interested in dispelling your uninformed prejudice against poetry, read C. S. Lewis' work . Read G. A. Studdert Kennedy's work . Joyce Kilmer wrote one of my favorites . Even a few of my poems have turned out pretty well. ...

I don't quite feel like writing. I'm always tired, but I came home feeling especially tired. This morning, I woke up to my alarm! Usually, I zone in about an hour before I'm supposed to wake up and then toss until I get tired of waiting. I woke up to my alarm; I don't know if it's a good sign. In other news, Dexter often stands like this, just staring at the yard: Dexter Surveying "Everything the urine touches is my kingdom." That's what he said in my imagination anyway. Life is so weird. I-E and E-I are also weird. I before E except after C and when sounding like A as in neighbor and weigh.  And other, random exceptions. I don't even know where to begin. I should really just begin with getting chocolate milk and doing something lazy, but doing all that would require energy. Heartbreak is a strange thing. Although, I don't mind it. I'm not afraid of heartbreak. It is bloody exhausting, but I don't fear it. I fear for the p...

Life's a funny thing. It's also exhausting. However, when one is given the grace and mercy to see beyond the daily dross, each day is polished into a delightful, little adventure. As it turns out, I have been writing a good bit; I just haven't blogged in almost something like a forever. I hadn't blogged this whole month! *snicker* I can never write enough. I can never read enough. I can never sleep enough. I'm just insatiable. There's a provocative song called " Insatiable ," but that's not quite what I'm talking about here. This may sound weird, but work with me: The closer I draw to God, the greater this indescribable hunger grows. I wrote a good poem about it a while ago. Let me go rustle it up from my archives... Small Corridors I feel life’s weight, and I need Your strength To hold this feeble frame forever, For, as You know, all days are circumscribed By Your grace. If I were to sever Your presence in my life, my very mol...