With my publication deadline fast-approaching, I have been pushing to check things off of my To Do List. And by pushing, I mean waking up at 3:45a.m. and going to bed at midnight. And by going to bed, I mean refusing to allow the elixir of sleep to pull a veil over my consciousness because I simply have too much to resolve in my mind, still.

Never before--except perhaps during the year I was working on my Architecture Thesis Proposal--did I experience on a nightly basis what it's like to fall asleep. To actually experience the 'falling' asleep.

And let me tell you, it's as interesting as it is frightening.

Interesting, because--in conjunction with the Fray Theory--I find myself flooded with seemingly random thoughts and imagery. Without any provocation, I hear the voice of a strange man making a claim I have never heard before. I see people, characters, settings and scenarios so detached from my personal interest and experience that I have a difficult time believing they are a product of my own mental processes. It is interesting, because my consciousness feels less tied to my body, and more bound to the minds of others.

And it is frightening, because the fatigue from my daily endeavors prohibits me from continuing to walk this fine line, adamant to push me over the edge into a deep slumber. It is frightening, because it is what I imagine death to be like. A merciless tidal wave that will wash all traces of me away.

Fortunately, I have never been the type to discriminate between the emotions I feel, for as long as I feel, I know I am.

It makes we wonder though, about those thoughts and visions that prod me to question my existence beyond the mundane. I sincerely hope that demystifying the enigma will not disenchant me.

Good night :)

It is roughly 5:00am, and I am not up already, I'm up still.
I am fast approaching my January deadline for publishing The Fray Theory - Resonance, and I'm starting to freak out!

Do you know how hard it is to freak out when you're this tired? 

I"m sorry if you're still reading this. But hey, if you have time to kill, you should go to Google Images and look up 'Welsh Corgi Puppies Sleeping'.

You're welcome.

I am fast approaching the publication date of my first novel, and I have stumbled upon a curious discovery: I love to feel.

It sounds strange at first, but what I am speaking of isn't necessarily sensory in nature. I'm not talking about 'pleasure'. I'm talking about 'emotions'. And I have realized how deliciously cathartic it is to indulge in emotions on a regular basis. Through my characters I express outrage at things that offend me. I shudder at the thought of ideas that frighten me, and I relish in shedding tears over things that--to this day--still break my heart.

My affinity towards feeling and expressing emotions has nourished my creativity. It has led me through doors of acting studios, and pushed me beyond the threshold of imagining scenarios, to transcribing them onto paper.

It seems to me, that most of us are terrified of feelings unless they are centered around joy, pride, and other self-affirming concepts. Some of us tend to drown out our emotions with 'socially acceptable' numbing agents like alcohol, or simply stuff what we feel in a box, lock it, and slide it under our beds. It is one thing to wallow is self-propagated misery--I'm not condoning that--and another entirely to acknowledge what is moving you to your core, address it, sublimate it, and grow from it.

I feel as though a lot of my wounds have healed ever since I commenced my journey as an aspiring author. I feel as though I have grown to the point where I find beauty in sorrow, passion in anger, and hope in despair, and I would not have been able to do so had I continued to fear the dipping of the sinusoidal curve.

Life without its peaks and valleys is a flat line--like the kind you find on a heart-rate monitor at the hospital. Do not simply take the bad as a necessary evil contrasting the good. Appreciate the bad, and you'll realize it's all good.

Love, and joy of all kinds to you all!