11-16-07 @ 12:22 pm EST

Not feeling remarkably up to writing this...but guess I have to get it out of the way sometime. -_-

Well, I had a psychologist appointment, last week, I think it was. My memory is of course lousy by now, though I did take a few notes in Wordpad afterward, so I guess I'll try to go on those in no particular order. She asked me if I'd had any more sick raccoons or trees falling and I said no, but we almost had the latter, which she misheard as "ladder," so she asked me what had gone on with the ladder and I had to clarify. >_< We had a big windstorm recently and there's this tree RIGHT outside the dining room (computer room) window...it's rotting out, especially at the base, and I could see the ENTIRE THING swaying from side to side in the wind. Most trees, you see just the tops move--this ENTIRE THING was moving. I'm terrified that it's going to fall and take out the computer, printer, phone, TV, VCR/DVD player, and a bunch of other stuff with it. I called Ma at work but she just blew me off, of course. Apparently it's cheaper to wait for the thing to fall and then have to replace all of those items (as well as photos and writing that can NEVER be replaced) and fix up half the house than it is to just call somebody to cut the thing down safely. Stupid me.

Psychologist replied by telling me a story about a storm that passed through and she was afraid that one of the sick trees would fall, when in fact a perfectly healthy tree fell. So, she said, one can never tell. Still, that tree is decidedly unsafe, but I guess I'm the only one who cares.

She asked, percentagewise, how the meds had helped compared to the side effects, and I couldn't really answer, since it's just something one can't really measure. On the one hand I hate feeling so miserable all the time again, but on the other, they made me feel only moderately better ("I really thought the improvement would be a lot more noticeable," I told her), and the weight gain and dream loss are something I really don't want back. I honestly feel the meds were only "covering up" the real problem, like sticking a Band-Aid on a festering wound. Sure, it seems to fix the problem on the outside, but inside, you're really not getting any better. And take a look, I'm not. Still as anxious as anything. Maybe the meds helped cheer me up a little but they certainly didn't give me any courage. And as much as I hate possibly hinting that negative feelings are a GOOD thing (which I'm not--at least, not unequivocally--I hope that's the right word), the absence of dreams during that period just strongly hints to me that the meds just suppress what's still there, rather than fixing anything. Dreams are sent by our unconscious, which also sends many of our negative feelings, thoughts, and reactions. Notice how they dwindled almost to nothing when I was on the meds? I had a flood of them when going off, which proves they were still actually there, just not getting through to me. Ditto with the negative feelings. You can wrap it in a shiny pretty wrapper but if something is crap inside that's all it'll ever be unless you take care of it. My metaphors aren't coming out very well today, sorry. Basically, the meds only seemed to be covering up the real problem and making it seem like I didn't have to deal with it, when in fact it was still right there. That can't be helpful.

She asked if we did/do anything for Halloween and I related an incident from my childhood in which Ma was taking me trick-or-treating in the car, and I was crying my eyes out because I was too afraid to go to the doors and actually trick-or-treat on my own. Ma did a sharp U-turn in the road and said the F word, which back then was something horrendous in our family, and angrily drove me home so I didn't get to trick-or-treat. I forgot to mention to Psychologist something I thought of only afterward. I was fine with trick-or-treating...when my brother was young enough to go with me and ask instead. Once I was on my own, I couldn't do it anymore.

That was when she asked if I've always been anxious or if circumstances just made it worse? Both, I said. In elementary school I was widely known as a "crybaby," but at least back then, the things I was so interested in, writing stories and imagining things, weren't seen as stupid. When you're a little kid that sort of thing is not only expected but encouraged. People loved how creative I was. Once in junior high, though, I told her, other kids' priorities changed to dating and romance and such while I just continued making up stories and imagining things...and that was when it just went downhill. The things that I still loved were now considered stupid and childish and I was just left behind while the world moved on. I saw the sneers and rolling eyes and looks of boredom when I offered to share my creations with others, so eventually I just learned to keep it to myself. I couldn't even read to my parents, they were always telling me to go find something else to do, even when I was little. The very reason I started writing was because my dad wanted me to stop bothering him, so he told me to go write a story. I used to love to try sharing things with my family. Now, even if they were to ask I would think, "Nuh-uh." I'd rather they not.

Psychologist stated that it seemed that I'd learned not to socialize with people, thus my ability to do so was "stunted"--with that I perfectly agree, I've always said I just never "grew up." I never went through the stages/phases that other kids go through--falling in love, participating in recreational things, going out with friends, rebelling against authority, moving out, getting a job, starting a family. The mere concepts are too foreign for me to contemplate. Stunted is pretty much the right word.

She asked me if I had any sort of "outlet" for all my feelings, since it seems like I can't talk to my parents about things. Not really, I said. Sure, I communicate with some people online, but I honestly can't dump all the stuff I'm feeling onto anybody. The closest I come is writing in this journal and even this is the tip of the iceberg. In between entries are many days spent crying and agonizing to myself, sometimes over valid things, sometimes for no reason I can fathom. It's not like I can e-mail somebody every hour to blather at them about how shitty I'm feeling. After a while, that not only gets annoying, it gets unfair. Nobody wants to be dumped on all the time by somebody who can only find the time to write to them when they're feeling lousy. Not even me. That's just using somebody. So it's easier to just keep it to oneself. I thought, maybe my fiction is an outlet, but not as much as I can see. I just like writing fiction. I put emotion into it, yes, but you'll hardly see Charmian or anybody feeling depressed and worthless almost every hour of the day and not having anybody she can lean on. I'm the anti-Charmian, I suppose.

She said, "It seems like you hate seeming an imposition." For some reason I couldn't understand what she'd said for a moment, and had to think it over before nodding. Sometimes words that I'm used to sound strange when other people say them out loud--"imposition" was one of them. But yes, that's true. "That's the reason why whenever they tell me to call the emergency number if I need to, I know I never will," I said, "because I hate that I might be interrupting something important. I hate to bother people when they're doing something important."

"I get the feeling you'd hate bothering people no matter what," Psychologist said, and I nodded, caught. I went over some of the above, how I just can't bring myself to impose on others, no matter how I'm feeling, because, as I said, "Then I'd be calling the emergency number every hour of the day." That's just how emotions are--I can't control them. Sure, perhaps the lousy feelings will abate, at least somewhat, within an hour, but at least during the time I'm having them they're excruciating. I'm sure any depressed person will understand, that any time you're depressed, it feels like the end of everything, and no amount of thinking about better times will make it seem like it'll get better. Even if it did every single time in the past. Well, that's how it is. I tried not to, but I started crying when going over this and how things went downhill for me in school until I ended up basically a shut-in with no friends to rely on. I hate sounding so negative, wah, wah, wah. But to me, it's just a statement of the facts as I see them. And they're depressing facts, hence they make me cry when I discuss them. I'm starting to now...

I mean, just look at how imposing I'm always being to my mother when I call her at work. A tree is about to fall on the house? Or the power's out? Sorry, I've got a customer, bye. It's kind of hard to believe that anything in your own life has much importance when everything in everyone else's lives takes precedence. I didn't even get to mention how lousy I feel just to take up Psychologist's time in sessions; surely there are people who need to see her more, people more promising than I am.

At some point she said that she bet if I had the right friend, I'd never stop talking. Oh, of course, I said. "In high school when I had a few friends I always laughed and talked a lot when they were around," I said. "I actually worry in looking back that I dominated the group a little too much though I wasn't the one who spoke up the most. But I could be pretty loud and obnoxious."

Psychologist was floored on hearing that and had to have me repeat it. She couldn't believe that *I* could have ever been obnoxious. But it's true. I even remember somebody (actually one of the friendly students who just wasn't in my particular group) making fun of my laugh in art class once because it was so loud. That was really hurtful, though I know he didn't mean it. But that's how I was back then, at least, when friends were around--the rest of the time I was as silent as anything. I know that if I had just the right friend, I would be incredibly outgoing--at least in their company. It's stupid to dwell on "ifs," though.

Psychologist started to go over how many people she gets in therapy who are so unhappy and dissatisfied, simply because of how small Cheboygan is--there's simply no opportunity to meet people like ourselves. Interestingly, she mentioned transgendered people and then gay/lesbian groups twice, and had to quickly make a disclaimer so I wouldn't think she was talking about me, but that made me curious about just how many such people there ARE in Cheboygan?? She said, "I imagine you in a big city, like Chicago," and I would be able to browse the bookstores, and sit in the libraries for hours, and the most specific, arcane groups out there just for me. I know what she was getting at, but I can't bear the thought of living in a big city. I told her, aside from its lack of opportunities, I LIKE Cheboygan, as it has nature, and trees, and it's near the island...it's exactly where I want to be. The only thing missing is lack of meaningful relationships with other people. I doubt that would change if I were to suddenly be transplanted to a big city, though. Like she said--stunted.

She asked if I'd be more outgoing if I were in the right atmosphere. Say, a craft or language/culture group for "Anishnabe" (Ojibwa--I had to pronounce the word for her, since she can never remember it). If there were one of those available, would my curiosity win out, or my anxiety? "I honestly don't know," I admitted. Truth is, I'm much better in one-on-one situations rather than group things, if only because in a group, there's the fear of imposing again--asking too many questions, taking away from the other students' time. I would never be able to speak up. I know from experience that the same would happen with just a teacher and me, but maybe over time I'd get over it. I HAVE made single friends in one-on-one situations. With groups, I don't really get much of anywhere. With a group there's always the possibility of just fading into the background...and I always do.

I told her how there are actually some Ojibwa-speaking groups and such online and I would love so much to learn more, but I hate bothering the people involved, for the reasons above and because of the bad run-ins I've had with jerks. She mentioned the "anonymity of the Internet," but I said that I'm just lousy at anonymity. "I tried acting like someone else once," I said, "and I just couldn't do it; it was way too hard." That made her laugh and she said that actually seemed like a good sign, that I don't want to fake myself like that. I'm one of the world's worst liars.

She said that this also seemed like a good thing, that I seemed to be such a sensitive, "gentle soul," as she called it, and that made me gag a little inside...where do people get the idea that I'm a gentle soul? Seriously, I've had people tell me this in the past and it mystifies me. Maybe it's just because I don't share a lot of things with others re: dumping all over them, like I already mentioned. But I'm actually a pretty lousy person. I'm very spiteful, jealous, selfish, and a million other things I won't list because people always get to thinking I'm just being falsely modest. I already said though that I'm a bad liar and I just state things as I see them. I'm biased, yes, but it's what I see. If people knew 99% of the thoughts that go through my head they'd never consider me a "gentle soul" again.

I did understand what she meant about sensitivity being a good thing, though...I tried to say (through my tears) that there are times when I feel that I'm to blame, that I'm an awful person who just doesn't deserve friends, but once in a while I'll get to thinking, why would I want to be friends with an asshole like that anyway?? If they're going to treat me like that? It's not my problem for being "too sensitive," it's THEIR problem for being such an asshole. Psychologist enthusiastically agreed and said, "Some people are just jerks."

"But then I think, how many jerks can there possibly BE out there??" I asked, "Because I seem to keep running into them!" (Really, just an impossibly high number of jerks. It's like I just draw them to me or something. I would think that, but I've had these experiences about equally whether I approach them first, or they approach me. I really don't get it. It's like I'm a jerk magnet or something. Er, I'm not referring to MOST of the people who will be reading this, BTW. o_o; And the people who ARE jerks, and are reading this, well, they never reply anyway, so...I'm just digging this deeper and deeper, aren't I? Okay, I'll shut up now.) Suffice it to say that I'd be willing to write off the assholes I've come into contact with as just that, assholes, if it weren't for the facts that 1. they seem to get along perfectly well with most everybody else, and 2. THERE ARE SO DAMN MANY OF THEM. After a while, one learns to just stop approaching people. Psychologist said that I'd been "slapped in the face" plenty of times, and that's true; I often think in terms of a dog that's been hit with a stick enough times; eventually it learns not to be friendly toward others, and just shies away, no matter how friendly somebody is to it. Only thing is, people expect that kind of behavior from a dog; if you're a person they just tell you to get a thicker skin or something.

Anyway, there might have been more, but I don't recall. Psychologist said she really isn't sure where to go from here, aside from to keep meeting, at which I nodded hard. I remember her warning at the beginning that if I'm there just to whine, she won't see me, and I'm terrified that she'll just kick me out like the old psychologist did. :( I really don't mean to just sit and whine. The truth is, I LIKE talking to her, even if most of it is negative. It was only temporary, but I felt kind of better after seeing her. Nothing had actually been resolved, but sometimes just being able to talk to someone without being told to shut up or "I'm too busy" or "What do you want me to do?" helps.

At the end of the session she said that we won't be meeting again until after Thanksgiving, so... "Here is where I'd usually wish somebody a peaceful month," she said, "but not you...I want to wish you...an envigorating month...an intellectually stimulating month." And I understood what she meant.

Her words left me wondering just how many terribly unhappy people there are in this town, though. I KNOW there must be miserable people, but looking at this city, where are they? Do they just cover it up better than I do? The very fact that the mental health place is so overbooked proves they're out there. But everybody I pass by in the stores seems so normal. Even the other people I see in the waiting room. They talk, they make eye contact, they laugh, they communicate. They're nothing like me. They seem so "together." Psychologist seemed to be saying that this place is just full of miserable people who have nobody like themselves to just talk with. I doubt any of them are similar enough to me...but the mere thought that they're all out there hurts. There should be a way for these people to meet others like them. So many people shouldn't have to be so lonely, just because this town is so small.

In this Internet age, why haven't these people found each other yet? These computers were supposed to connect us, give our lives more meaning. They don't seem to be working. Just take a look, I've never run into anyone I know/knew from real life online anywhere. Cheboygan is small, but it's not a flyspeck. I KNOW these people must have access to the same Internet that I do. So why do our lives still have so little meaning? Why are we still so lonely?

At least in my case, I realize some of this is my own fault, but as I said, those other people seem so together, mentally, I can't figure out why they haven't found anyone yet. It makes no sense to me.

Well...anyway. Yesterday, I finally had my SSI appeal hearing in Traverse City. -_-

I planned to spend a bit of time on describing the scenery and such, but I don't have it in me today. Maybe another time. Suffice it to say that I went into this room and had to sit at the end of a long table, Lawyer to my right, a stenographer or something behind me (Lawyer had said we wouldn't have one, but I heard her typing away), and the judge way ahead of me; there was a microphone, and I had to raise my right hand and swear to tell the truth and everything. Judge must have noticed how nervous I looked because he spent some time commenting on how simple this would be and how I shouldn't be too nervous, and Lawyer asked if I'd like a glass of water, which I refused. The judge questioned me some, and Lawyer asked me a few more questions; after that, they called in Ma to question her separately even though this hadn't been planned; then that was it. Lawyer insisted that it went well and he would be surprised if I were turned down--"Unless and until I actually see it said otherwise, I'll believe you'll be granted benefits"--but he's a lawyer, and they're supposed to say stuff like that. Truthfully, I don't think the judge believed me. -_- He was nice, and friendly and everything, but when he heard that I have trouble dealing with people, he asked things like, "What about putting things together in a factory line, what would keep you from doing that?" or "What about making burgers behind the counter, where you don't have to talk to customers?" When I said that I'd be afraid of doing something wrong, he said, "But they teach you how to do these things first. Why do you think nobody would want to answer your questions?" I started crying at this, and could only reiterate that I just can't bother people by asking them questions. I was too stupid to clarify how in situations like this, I tend to just "freeze" and start crying and literally CAN'T ask for help. Lawyer brought up the museum incident, where I did just that, but Judge didn't really seem to notice it much.

He even asked, "Have you ever thought about having a job?" I had no clue how to answer that. Truthfully, no, not in the way he meant. But not because I'm lazy. It's because of what I said earlier, about the mere concept just being too beyond what I'm able to imagine. I can't imagine myself getting married, having a family, because the idea is too foreign to me. He could have just as easily asked, "Have you ever thought about building a house on Jupiter?" Well, yeah, you can think the thought, but as for REALLY pondering it, what's the point?? It's something you just can't imagine yourself doing. He may as well have asked me to try thinking in five dimensions. I can say, "I'm thinking in five dimensions," but as for actually DOING it, that's something else entirely. Yes, I've thought about having a job. But it was just a fleeting passing random thought with no possibility of substance behind it. On the way home, I looked out the window at people going to and from cafes, briefcases and laptops in hand, dressed in their suits, and tried thinking of myself in their position...and just came up blank. Judge could ask me to imagine myself as a leopard or something and it would be more believable, and you see the chances of me becoming a leopard one day.

There were also some really stupid questions that I can't for the life of me figure out. When it was brought up that I like to write, either Judge or Lawyer asked, "These things that you write--are they all works in progress, or do you ever finish any of them?" What?? What on Earth could that POSSIBLY have to do with anything?? Were they trying to figure out if I can follow through on a task or something? Because even if so, what does my writing have to do with anything? It's one thing to finish a novel on my terms, something else entirely to follow somebody's spoken directions in a factory or restaurant. I hate the thought that they could be trying to overgeneralize my abilities and apply them to situations where they just wouldn't apply. Hey, I can occasionally make eye contact with my parents! Surely I can thus hold a conversation with anybody on the street...?

Oh yes...also, most of the questions seemed geared toward my OCD, and not toward my social anxiety. AGAIN. Even when Ma came out and I later asked her what she was asked about, she said, "Oh, your rituals and stuff." WHY, WHY, WHY do they keep focusing on the f**king OCD?? THAT IS NOT THE PROBLEM. Yes, I have rituals and routines and I get incredibly upset if I can't follow through on them. But unless it's my obsessing that's keeping me from talking to people, THAT'S NOT MY PROBLEM. I understand that Lawyer had to list EVERYTHING I've been diagnosed with, so I don't blame him. But it pisses me off that the judge focused on it so damn much. He was nice and everything, but...UGH. Can't anybody see past that stupid diagnosis and look at WHAT ELSE is on there??

I just get the strong looming feeling that Judge did not take me seriously--sure, she can't work around people, but surely she must be able to work on her own. That's what he seemed to be saying. -_- Nobody in this entire process seems to be taking me seriously in the least aside from Psychologist and Psychiatrist, and Lawyer (but him only because he won't get paid if he doesn't). Not a single other person in this entire process, not even my parents, seem to believe everything I've been saying all along. I have two psychologists and a doctor saying I'm unfit for work. Even SSI's own psychologist said it--remember my VERY FIRST interview, over two years ago I believe, with the guy who asked me to state a difference between a dog and a lion, and other inane crap like that? Remember how angry I was that I wasn't taken seriously in the least, especially when SSA sent their denial letter saying that since I possess communication skills and understand English, I'm able to work? Lawyer surprised me with some papers I had NEVER RECEIVED before. Turns out that SSA's psychologist scored me with a 44 on a global functioning scale...which basically says that I'm sane, but so incapacitated that I can't work or function normally around others. Any number lower than that, and I'd be delusional and unable to care for myself and such. Color me surprised. I've been hating that guy for the past two years when even HE said that I'm unfit for work. As Lawyer put it, SSA routinely turns down anyone under a certain age no matter what their disability, and as I'm only 30 (even younger back then), I was of course turned down. But even SSA's own psychologist said I'm not fit for work. It doesn't seem to be mattering, though. Apparently, I just have a touch of anxiety in the direct presence of others, and if I simply didn't have to talk to a lot of people, I'd be able to work just fine.

I don't think I need to tell anyone who reads through this and has tried e-mailing me, and has sat waiting and waiting for an answer that likely never came because I'm so DAMN ANXIOUS to even read what they said (um...hi, Diane, if you're reading >_<; ...people say hi to Diane, who is probably the person who has written to me the most and heard from me the least proportionwise), on a computer screen for crying out loud, why this belief makes me so angry. Too bad SSA judges don't interview online acquaintances...I'm sure you'd all know more than anyone how avoidant I am.

He didn't ask such questions though, so it never came up. That's the exact problem. It's not much of a problem to SSA though.

So even though Lawyer and even Dad said that they believed it would go well, I don't believe it at all. And I have no idea what I'm supposed to do next once they turn me down yet again. -_- I haven't gotten to ask Lawyer since he was so insistent that I'll win! He said that if the judge wishes to, he might write up a list of further questions to ask or send to Psychologist or Psychiatrist, which I'm rather hoping for, though he problably won't since SSA is so overworked. This isn't even a Michigan judge, the state is so backed up with claims.

So now I get to sit for at least a couple MORE months and dwell on how I've failed yet again. -_-

Well, I hate being such a downer, but at least no one has to read this if they don't wish to, so I won't impose that much. And my stupid f**king computer keeps prompting me to restart so it can update, which is pissing me off, so I guess that's all. I'm going to go do something more productive right now.

(BTW, I'm not doing as lousily, mentally at least, as this entry makes it sound, at the moment anyway. I can't speak for an hour after I post this, or tomorrow, or next week. As I said, it changes every minute. By the time I post this I might in fact feel truly crappy, or better, who even knows.)

OH! To end this on a not so crappy note, I saw a cardinal feeding on our porch yesterday. That's the first cardinal I've ever seen on our porch. Cute little fat red bird. So that's one moderately okay nice thing. Now the wind is blowing again, and that tree will probably fall on the computer.

Not proofed. Tar...

*****

I typed that up yesterday morning. It's depressing, and I hate being depressing even if I'm depressed, so I'll type something else to end it with.

I'm still taking notes on MI, though I should finish soon. I just finished Part 92. I don't mean to sound bigheaded, because I'm only talking in terms of what *I* consider good, not what OTHERS consider good, which is what matters--but--this story is really good. o_o I haven't read it since I wrote it, four years ago I believe. I just knew that the early chapters were incredibly lame and ignorant, thus the rest of it probably was too. Well, it DOES have its errors and junk, and even the later chapters could use work, but...it's really not as distanced from my current writing style as I thought it was. The shortness of the earlier chapters of RTMI led me to think that I hadn't settled on a style just yet as of 2003, but maybe it was just because I was starting a story and needed to get into the swing of things. The later chapters of MI are longer and are pretty much as I would write nowadays. Have I FINALLY found my final style?

Anyway...the later parts of MI are when I started just getting into Jungian stuff and thought that it would go along well with the story. I don't remember much of the writing process by now, except to say that toward the end--I think it was in the 80s--I got really confused and needed to temporarily halt and take stock of where I was, drawing up a rough outline of what was left. I had to do the same with RTMI and even though EFMI is nowhere near over, it's very sprawling, and that's what's led to me halting work on it completely until I take notes on everything. I seem to get "blocked" (a term I hate, as I don't think I really believe in writer's block anymore) when I've committed some sort of big error or oversight that needs to be addressed. The last time work halted on EFMI, it was just such a time. I noticed an error or two in the later chapters of this serial after halting work on them, and those could in fact be why I had to stop, though I think the main reason is just that I've completely lost myself. But it's a good thing, because otherwise I might commit a plot error I could never write my way out of.

I keep fearing stumbling across one of these as I take notes. I've found some awkward spots and yes, some errors that need addressing, but most of it is along the lines of, for example, "Charmian gives the necklace back--but she wasn't even holding it in the first place." Another one involves the ultimate fate of Justin's necklace (see below), but is easily fixed should I wish to. (Errors that I have especial trouble with are characters sharing knowledge they have no way of possessing yet--I HATE when I do that!) Nothing that could derail the entire story. Yet. *cross fingers* And in fact, the way that the story keeps on track has me utterly perplexed. I did not plan most of it as I went along. Sure, I knew certain things I wanted to happen, but there's no way I could have known how some things would have eventually turned out. So how did they turn out so well, plotwise?

One example which I DID kind of plan is the detail with the green glass necklace that starts out the story. This item was never meant to possess any importance whatsoever--the only reason Charmian dwelled on it so long was because I needed to use some writing prompts and that was how I did it. Once she left the mainland and went to Manitou Island, the necklace was supposed to be out of the story forever.

Until a reader said, basically, "With the amount of time Charmian spent looking at that necklace, I can't wait to see how it fits into the plot!"

Yikes.

So I rather HAD to write it back in. Fortunately, it somehow ended up serving a purpose which fit into the story. I can't remember how I did it but I probably bent things around to make it work out this way--seeing as gems and jewels play such a big part in the entire series, it wasn't much of a stretch anyway. So that's just how some things work.

The detail of ANOTHER necklace in the story, though, Justin's necklace, leaves me mystified.

Justin's necklace first apears in Part 21.

"Ow." He finished placing bandages on Charmian's knees and she extended her legs. "Thanks," she murmured, rubbing her arms and looking up at the fancy windows again. Some of them were stained glass, and she thought she could recognize the form of a manitou in one of them. He took her hand and helped her to her feet, and for the first time she noticed a small pendant he was wearing around his neck. She blinked and reached out to touch it before thinking. It was silver, enclosing a chip of ruby and a chip of emerald, red and green side by side.

His glance followed her motion and she drew her hand back, embarrassed. "Sorry. It's just an interesting necklace."

"This? I often forget I wear it, I'm so used to it." He smiled and shrugged. "Do you feel ready to go now?"

"Where did you get it?" For some strange reason she again found herself thinking of the green glass necklace in Miss Anne's store.

"It was a...'gift' from my father." He shrugged again. "He's sparing in his gift-giving so I suppose I should be more grateful...are you ready to go now?"

"Yeah, I guess. Thanks."

Based on the amount of time I spent describing it, I'm pretty sure I intended THIS necklace, at least, to serve an important purpose. But the necklace's importance isn't hinted at until Part 37, its exact purpose isn't hinted at until Parts 66-7, and this latter isn't ultimately revealed until Part 75. Not only that, but the importance behind the necklace ties in with events that first occur in Parts 23-30 and are resolved in Part 98. I honestly can't remember. Did I really plan all that out and manage to keep it in my head so it would tie together like that?? I know I can tie a lot of things together in retrospect--but what about before knowing all the details? I'm so lousy at remembering things that when I proofread things I don't even remember having written them. So how did I keep all of that together so it fit together in the end?

I'm currently reading Man & His Symbols and have just finished reading a section on the symbolism of modern art. It talked about how artists don't have nearly as much conscious control over their work as they believe they do, and in fact much of what comes out on the canvas is from the unconscious. It's still from US--just not from the parts of us that are awake and aware of what we're doing. I seriously wonder if a similar thing happens with writers (writing is creative, like art, but it also has more order to it, as writers have to pick words and focus on things like plot and such, and keep in mind how what they write now will influence future events), and if it does, if a similar thing happens with me. As far as I know I was fully awake and aware while writing MI and just about everything else I write. But does that necessarily mean I'm in total control of what comes out on the page? Just because I'm picking the words and planning future events, does that mean that I'm fully aware of where something will go twenty chapters from now? DO I know all this ahead of time--just not consciously? Because I don't remember having such ordered thoughts in my head as I actually wrote. In fact I remember being as confused as hell.

I do fully know that toward the end of RTMI, when I

*SPOILERSPOILERSPOILER*



killed off Thomas, I didn't plan it--I was just bored, and angry that nobody seemed to be reading, and thought, "What if I kill off an important character right now?"--and just did it. I did plan to bring him back once he was dead--but I didn't plan to kill him in the first place. What I REALLY hadn't planned--was how his death ultimately tied up an important plot point which I knew had to be in the story all along, but did not know how to resolve just yet. Did my unconscious nudge me and say, "You know, since that part is bothering you, if you just kill off Thomas you can settle the whole thing nicely"? Because I certainly didn't plan his death to fix up that problem. I just did it because I was bored. Or so I thought. Or did I really have ALL of this planned out, unconsciously, from the very first chapter? o_o



*SPOILER'S OVER IT DOESN'T RUIN THE ENTIRE STORY ANYWAY SO READ IF YOU WANT*

I don't know if any of this even makes sense to anyone reading, as I can't seem to put it into the right words, so I guess I'll leave off on that. It's certainly mystifying though. I don't FEEL like I have that much control over the way things turn out in my writing--not a sort of control that ties things together so neatly, scores of chapters after the fact. It's weird to think that a part of me that I'm not even aware of could be ordering things without me even knowing it. Does that part have any idea how exactly EFMI is going to turn out and end? Because consciously, as of right now, I don't know. I know SOME things, but the actual climax of the story is not one of them. And BMI is even hazier.

Something to mull over, at least. I have yet to take notes on RTMI; now I'm dreading that IT will be a huge muddle and mess of plot errors and discontinuities. Then there's EFMI, which is even more sprawling...ugh.

I could use a lot of help from my unconscious.

I still didn't describe TC. Oh well, this entry is very long.

One more interesting tidbit that I came across in my reading. This was actually an idea I pondered over long ago but have not read about anywhere in any of my dream interpretation or Jung books. Still, I liked the idea that in the MI series, crystals and spirit stones could be symbols of the Self, seeing as they pop up so often and are even symbolic of the spirit itself--Ocryx collects gems, possibly on a quest for individuation, ha ha, and the bedrock of Manitou Island, which I view as the ultimate symbol of the Self in the story, is littered with them--in EFMI it's even stated that after the flood, many MI crystals were washed away into distant lands where they still reside, hinting at the Island's omniscience. Anyway, the bit that I read, which was new to me only AFTER I came up with all of the above, was this:

I have already mentioned the fact that the Self is symbolized with special frequency in the form of a stone, precious or otherwise. We saw an example of this in the stone that was being polished by the she-bear and the lions. In many dreams the nuclear center, the Self, also appears as a crystal. The mathematically precise arrangement of a crystal evokes in us the intuitive feeling that even in so-called "dead" matter, there is a spiritual ordering principle at work. Thus the crystal often symbolically stands for the union of extreme opposites--of matter and spirit.

--Marie-Louise von Franz, "The Process Of Individuation," Man & His Symbols

IN-TER-ES-TING.