I am in a kak bui, which translated into English, means that I'm in a very crappy mood.
Not feeling fresh at all, and all the shit I'm trying to figure out, is getting to me. I'm tired, and fed-up.
So that's all I have to say.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
I have issues, you see?
Not sure whether I've mentioned it before, but I have issues.
Specifically, issues with men.
Basically, I regard men (and yes, I am generalising here, to illustrate my point) as ruled by the remnants of a reptilian brain, which makes them unfeeling, selfish, disrespectful, manipulative, aggressive, abusive, close-minded, arrogant, hurtful bastards. Who will hump anything that has a hole in it.
Harsh, I know.
But, before crucifying me, here's the field of reference that this is based on:
Let's start at birth, shall we? Right off the bat, I was an accident, my sister was barely 9 months old, before my mom was pregnant again. Not planned. So when I popped out, being the second girl within 2 years, hardly endeared me to my father. I spent about 22 years trying to make up for the disappointment of my birth, generally grovelling at his feet for acceptance, but trying to step out of the shadow of a national champion athelete (sister), and being my own person, who did not run fast enough, or jump far enough etc etc, didn't do me much good. Yes, I excelled in my own way, but being the best in my dance school never quite cut it. He never once, in the 12 years I danced, had the time to see me dance, he was too busy supporting my sister.
Ok, age 4, my first brother is born, but instead of being the rugby-playing, macho guy my father wanted, he turns out to have Downs-syndrome. He still went on to become a champion athlete, but being disabled, in my father's eyes, that didn't count. So, he started drinking. And beating, getting drunk, dragging my mom around by the hair, raping her, beating her black and blue (but only places that her clothing would cover - clever bastard, can't let people know, you know.) I basically grew up with the sound of my mom begging and screaming behind the bedroom door.
He did give us beatings, but never as bad as my the ones my mom got.
Skip ahead a few years, my father hires a gardener. I like him, he's friendly. I was probably around 8, and I remember him calling me behind a wall, and showing me his penis. I don't remember anything after that, but I have a feeling that that's not all that happened. Never been able to remember, and I have tried. I still have trouble touching a penis without feeling revulsion.
Ok, at 19, I'm studying, and receive a call from my mom saying she's leaving, and that I shouldn't worry if I don't hear from her for a while. I tell her I think she's doing the right thing. Afterwards my sister tells me my father went looking for her with a gun, which she, for some reason, thinks was justified.
In the meantime, I never dated seriously, I kiss a few guys, but make them back off as soon as I can. Managed to not get raped, in several very dangerous situations. Fall in love, with the jerk I'd end up marrying at 23. We date a few times, I find him exciting, and a little dangerous, he skips class, smokes at school, hangs out with the "cool" guys.
My father and I don't talk, so although he disapproves, I don't care. We marry, against my mom's wishes, I tell her I love him, and realise that I made a mistake within a few months. But I stay. For 6 years, I become invisible, the background he lives his live on, I carry him and all the responsibility, but have to melt into the scenery, my personality supresses his, you see. I have my son at 28, and move out when my son is barely a year old.
My ex husband tells my mom that the only reason he agreed to the divorce was that someone told him "she'll never manage on her own", and I'd come crawling back. Divorcing him is something I have never had any ambigious feelings about, if I stayed, I don't think I'd be alive today.
I move in with my father, since I have nowhere else to go. Become my disabled brother's nurse, mommy, and caretaker. Try to raise my son not to be like his grandfather, while my father tries his level best to raise him "properly", since I obviously, have no idea what I'm doing. I move out.
Then the sado-masochistic Canadian, then the alcoholic, that I've blogged about before, and don't feel like writing about now.
My father and I still don't have much contact, I speak to him when I have to, and accept the fact that we'll never have a father-daughter relationship. This still makes me sad, I still feel somehow, not enough, like there's something wrong with me, if even my father (who is bioligically programmed to care about his own progeny) cannot love me. He's still the one and only person that makes me cry when I think about him.
There has always been an abundance of domineering, manipulating men in my life, one replacing the other, as soon as I manage to get rid of one, another shows up. Since I realised this, I do manage to get rid of them faster, eg. 6 months, instead of 2 years, but they just keep on appearing. So, obviously, these are the kind of men I attract. It frustrates the crap out of me, since I don't know how, and consequently, don't know how to change that.
My survival instinct, that part that tells you, Run or Fight, tries to blame it on men, and rationalise it by learning that all men are like the ones in my life. Now, I'm not sure that all men are, plenty of people have told me that not all are, but as I have no evidence to the contrary, I'm inclined to agree with the part that has proof. I've invited men (plenty of them) to prove me wrong, and no, I'm not talking about any kind of sexual contact, I mean, trying to convince me that some men are actually not bad, that some are actually nice, and won't try to swallow me, and force me to conform to their idea of who I should be. So far, and I'm turning 34 in 6 months, not one has.
Now, according to my beliefs, I should be able to blindly believe in good men. I should. I should allow them in, invite them in, and give them a chance. Instead, I stand ready to bolt for the door, at the first sign of aggression. And almost breathe a sigh of relief when they invariably turn out to be what I expect. But honestly, can you blame me?
Are there any good men out there, or are the women who say yes, just blind, or turning their faces away from the truth? "None so blind, as those who will not see". At the moment, this logically, seems like the most plausible scenario. Logically, I should not give any man a chance, I should run like hell as soon as one turns his head my way. Which is exactly what I'm doing, so how come, being a logical, rational creature, feels like I'm depriving myself of something beautiful? I want to be proven wrong. I just don't believe I will be.
See, what'd I tell you. Issues.
Specifically, issues with men.
Basically, I regard men (and yes, I am generalising here, to illustrate my point) as ruled by the remnants of a reptilian brain, which makes them unfeeling, selfish, disrespectful, manipulative, aggressive, abusive, close-minded, arrogant, hurtful bastards. Who will hump anything that has a hole in it.
Harsh, I know.
But, before crucifying me, here's the field of reference that this is based on:
Let's start at birth, shall we? Right off the bat, I was an accident, my sister was barely 9 months old, before my mom was pregnant again. Not planned. So when I popped out, being the second girl within 2 years, hardly endeared me to my father. I spent about 22 years trying to make up for the disappointment of my birth, generally grovelling at his feet for acceptance, but trying to step out of the shadow of a national champion athelete (sister), and being my own person, who did not run fast enough, or jump far enough etc etc, didn't do me much good. Yes, I excelled in my own way, but being the best in my dance school never quite cut it. He never once, in the 12 years I danced, had the time to see me dance, he was too busy supporting my sister.
Ok, age 4, my first brother is born, but instead of being the rugby-playing, macho guy my father wanted, he turns out to have Downs-syndrome. He still went on to become a champion athlete, but being disabled, in my father's eyes, that didn't count. So, he started drinking. And beating, getting drunk, dragging my mom around by the hair, raping her, beating her black and blue (but only places that her clothing would cover - clever bastard, can't let people know, you know.) I basically grew up with the sound of my mom begging and screaming behind the bedroom door.
He did give us beatings, but never as bad as my the ones my mom got.
Skip ahead a few years, my father hires a gardener. I like him, he's friendly. I was probably around 8, and I remember him calling me behind a wall, and showing me his penis. I don't remember anything after that, but I have a feeling that that's not all that happened. Never been able to remember, and I have tried. I still have trouble touching a penis without feeling revulsion.
Ok, at 19, I'm studying, and receive a call from my mom saying she's leaving, and that I shouldn't worry if I don't hear from her for a while. I tell her I think she's doing the right thing. Afterwards my sister tells me my father went looking for her with a gun, which she, for some reason, thinks was justified.
In the meantime, I never dated seriously, I kiss a few guys, but make them back off as soon as I can. Managed to not get raped, in several very dangerous situations. Fall in love, with the jerk I'd end up marrying at 23. We date a few times, I find him exciting, and a little dangerous, he skips class, smokes at school, hangs out with the "cool" guys.
My father and I don't talk, so although he disapproves, I don't care. We marry, against my mom's wishes, I tell her I love him, and realise that I made a mistake within a few months. But I stay. For 6 years, I become invisible, the background he lives his live on, I carry him and all the responsibility, but have to melt into the scenery, my personality supresses his, you see. I have my son at 28, and move out when my son is barely a year old.
My ex husband tells my mom that the only reason he agreed to the divorce was that someone told him "she'll never manage on her own", and I'd come crawling back. Divorcing him is something I have never had any ambigious feelings about, if I stayed, I don't think I'd be alive today.
I move in with my father, since I have nowhere else to go. Become my disabled brother's nurse, mommy, and caretaker. Try to raise my son not to be like his grandfather, while my father tries his level best to raise him "properly", since I obviously, have no idea what I'm doing. I move out.
Then the sado-masochistic Canadian, then the alcoholic, that I've blogged about before, and don't feel like writing about now.
My father and I still don't have much contact, I speak to him when I have to, and accept the fact that we'll never have a father-daughter relationship. This still makes me sad, I still feel somehow, not enough, like there's something wrong with me, if even my father (who is bioligically programmed to care about his own progeny) cannot love me. He's still the one and only person that makes me cry when I think about him.
There has always been an abundance of domineering, manipulating men in my life, one replacing the other, as soon as I manage to get rid of one, another shows up. Since I realised this, I do manage to get rid of them faster, eg. 6 months, instead of 2 years, but they just keep on appearing. So, obviously, these are the kind of men I attract. It frustrates the crap out of me, since I don't know how, and consequently, don't know how to change that.
My survival instinct, that part that tells you, Run or Fight, tries to blame it on men, and rationalise it by learning that all men are like the ones in my life. Now, I'm not sure that all men are, plenty of people have told me that not all are, but as I have no evidence to the contrary, I'm inclined to agree with the part that has proof. I've invited men (plenty of them) to prove me wrong, and no, I'm not talking about any kind of sexual contact, I mean, trying to convince me that some men are actually not bad, that some are actually nice, and won't try to swallow me, and force me to conform to their idea of who I should be. So far, and I'm turning 34 in 6 months, not one has.
Now, according to my beliefs, I should be able to blindly believe in good men. I should. I should allow them in, invite them in, and give them a chance. Instead, I stand ready to bolt for the door, at the first sign of aggression. And almost breathe a sigh of relief when they invariably turn out to be what I expect. But honestly, can you blame me?
Are there any good men out there, or are the women who say yes, just blind, or turning their faces away from the truth? "None so blind, as those who will not see". At the moment, this logically, seems like the most plausible scenario. Logically, I should not give any man a chance, I should run like hell as soon as one turns his head my way. Which is exactly what I'm doing, so how come, being a logical, rational creature, feels like I'm depriving myself of something beautiful? I want to be proven wrong. I just don't believe I will be.
See, what'd I tell you. Issues.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
BallslessStalkerAss
Got the first anonymous missed call in a week today. Not upset about it, which is strange. Maybe it's just the mood I'm in, and I'll get upset at BallslessStalkerAss some other time.
Go figure.
Go figure.
Orange, Pink, Circles.
You with the sad eyes
don't be discouraged
Oh, I realise
it's hard to take courage
in a world full of people,
you can lose sight of it all
and the darkness inside you
can make you feel so small.
But I see your true colours
shining through.
I see your true colours
and that's why I love you,
so don't be afraid to let them show
your true colours
true colours are beautiful,
like a rainbow
Show me a smile then
don't be unhappy, can't remember
when I last saw you laughing.
If this world makes you crazy
and you've taken all you can bear
you call me up
because you know I'll be there.
And I'll see your true colours
shining through.
I see your true colours
and that's why I love you,
so don't be afraid to let them show
your true colours
true colours are beautiful,
like a rainbow.
Today, I caught myself singing as I walk. Don't know why, but I certainly don't mind. A little joy, no matter how insignificant or mysterious, can only do good.
"True Colours" by Cindy Lauper, one of the most beautiful songs I know. Wish I could let mine out from behind The Wall inside more often. I know they're pretty spectacular too.
Joy, in the Colour therapy world, is represented by the colour Orange. A colour I avoided like the Bubonic Plague. In the last month or two, I've been finding myself dressed in orange at least once a week. Love, represented by Pink. Hated pink! Couldn't stand it! Always considered women wearing pink, wussies. Now, at least twice a week, I look down, and observe the softer side of me, liking this emotionally loaded (for me) colour. Very strange. Curiouser and curiouser. I often wonder where all this is leading me, and getting impatient about arriving wherever I'm supposed to be. But then, I have to kinda talk myself down, knowing that I am exactly where I'm supposed to be, no matter how frustrating all this walking in circles are.
At least, I'm getting to know the person I could be, all orange and pink and softer. Like I am inside, way deep inside, where I've hidden it all.
I know, I know
Third time today, I know!
Just having a bit of a confusing day, and since I don't share with real-life people that well, I'm sharing it with my little corner of the Internet.
Some days the ache for someone to have, to hold, to share with is so bad, if I think about it too long, it takes my breath away, and I have to gasp, to get enough oxygen into my lungs. Today is one of those days. It makes my body feel like I'm being "beamed up" like in the Star Trek movies, when they stand on that pad thingie, and you see their bodies go kinda elongated, like the spces between their cells are being stretched. It makes me ache. Everywhere, my heart, my throat, my womb.
Like it's physically abnormal for me not to have someone to run to, and be enveloped. Like it's a requirement for healthy existence that I be touched with affection, and my body is starting to fade because it's not getting affection. And, god knows, there's nothing I can do about it. I can't make someone touch me, and I won't debase myself for a few minutes of sex with a willing body, just to ease the ache. It has to mean something. It has to. Goddess Mother of All, please, please, please, I need , I need, I need.
Fix, please.
Just having a bit of a confusing day, and since I don't share with real-life people that well, I'm sharing it with my little corner of the Internet.
Some days the ache for someone to have, to hold, to share with is so bad, if I think about it too long, it takes my breath away, and I have to gasp, to get enough oxygen into my lungs. Today is one of those days. It makes my body feel like I'm being "beamed up" like in the Star Trek movies, when they stand on that pad thingie, and you see their bodies go kinda elongated, like the spces between their cells are being stretched. It makes me ache. Everywhere, my heart, my throat, my womb.
Like it's physically abnormal for me not to have someone to run to, and be enveloped. Like it's a requirement for healthy existence that I be touched with affection, and my body is starting to fade because it's not getting affection. And, god knows, there's nothing I can do about it. I can't make someone touch me, and I won't debase myself for a few minutes of sex with a willing body, just to ease the ache. It has to mean something. It has to. Goddess Mother of All, please, please, please, I need , I need, I need.
Fix, please.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Signs
Still single, managed to evade the person my family wanted to introduce me to. Wasn't that difficult really, since the one & only time I had to be in close proximity he was hammered, and some shade netting seperated us. So I could safely wave politely, and hightail it. I very adamantly refused any invites thereafter that would've brought me anywhere near him. Still don't know what he looks like, and don't care. Call me a bitch, but showing up smashed when you know that there'll be a bunch of total strangers, seems kinda stupid to me. But, that's a personal opinion, if that's how he does things, all hail. As one of his 'friends' said, "André always has a glass in his hand. " Good for you, André, good for you!
I do not have to deal with that, and I would consider myself really friggin' dumb, to even try and deal with that. Once bitten, and all that. Whatever, not my problem.
That numb feeling that started last week continued through the weekend, and today is still the same. Don't know why, but I do know it's not a good sign. I usually feel this way at the start of a major depression. Not good.
I do not have to deal with that, and I would consider myself really friggin' dumb, to even try and deal with that. Once bitten, and all that. Whatever, not my problem.
That numb feeling that started last week continued through the weekend, and today is still the same. Don't know why, but I do know it's not a good sign. I usually feel this way at the start of a major depression. Not good.
Friday, November 24, 2006
Listen to the songs
The Captain of her Heart - Doublè
*
It was way past midnight
and she still couldn't fall asleep
This night the dream was leavin'
she tried so hard to keep
And with the new day's dawning
she felt it driftin' away
Not only for a cruise
Not only for a day
*
Too long ago
too long apart
she couldn't wait another day for
the Captain of her Heart
*
As the day came up she made a start
she stopped waiting another day for
the Captain of her Heart
*
Too long ago
too long apart
she couldn't wait another day for
the Captain of her Heart
*
As the day came up
she made a stop
she stopped waiting another day for
the Captain of her Heart
*
Too long ago
too long apart
she could't wait another day for
the Captain of her Heart.
*********************
Colorblind - Counting Crows
*
I am colorblind
Coffee black, and egg white
Pull me out from inside
I am ready,
I am ready,
I am ready,
I am ....
*
Taffy stuck and tongue tied,
stutter shook and uptight
Pull me out from inside
I am ready,
I am ready,
I am ready,
I am .... fine ....
*
I am covered in skin,
no one gets to come in.
Pull me out from inside
I am folded, and unfolded, and unfolding.
I am
colorblind
Coffee black, and egg white
Pull me out from inside
I am ready,
I am ready,
I am ready,
I am .... fine.
I am .... fine.
I am fine.
*****************
I am not shining today.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Middle ground
I am no longer steaming, as a matter of fact, I received a text message from the suspect, thanking me for teaching him the lesson that you should protect the ones you love at all cost. Go figure. No idea what that's about, but no anonymous phone calls since then. (Thank you, Universe) Phone peace at last. I'm having faith that it was, indeed, him, and that now the calls will stop.
Kinda in a strange mood, like I'm floating somewhere in the earth's atmosphere, not touching ground, but not having to breathe unearthly air either. Just somewhere inbetween. Not really peacefull, not really stressed, just calm.
Still working on faith, and so far it's going well. Starting at a gym today, hoping to work on my energy levels, and of course, a little toning can't hurt.
Had a very strange talk with that collegue of mine I blogged about a while ago. We were joking about me needing a man, and he made a comment about not standing a chance if I'm only interested in farmers. So I told him that I don't mess with "taken" men, cos he mos stays with a woman he calls his 'housemate'. That said, he just lowered his head, and shook it. But tried to keep me in his office as long as possible. Another puzzle. I wish he'd stop telling me he's available, if he's not, or if he is, get his ass in gear, and do something about the chemistry. It's driving me nuts. Another thing that'll sort itself out, I suppose.
I do like him, a lot, and can see the 2 of us having a great time together, but I've never let myself get any closer that I am, because I know he's involved. It would be really nice to find out if we'd be as good together as I think we might be. Ah well, que sera sera.
Still nothing from JC, but I'm ok with that. It's kinda annoying that I keep thinking about him, but as everything else, I suppose not contantly having him on my mind, will take a while. Here's to believing in endings.
Blessed be.
Kinda in a strange mood, like I'm floating somewhere in the earth's atmosphere, not touching ground, but not having to breathe unearthly air either. Just somewhere inbetween. Not really peacefull, not really stressed, just calm.
Still working on faith, and so far it's going well. Starting at a gym today, hoping to work on my energy levels, and of course, a little toning can't hurt.
Had a very strange talk with that collegue of mine I blogged about a while ago. We were joking about me needing a man, and he made a comment about not standing a chance if I'm only interested in farmers. So I told him that I don't mess with "taken" men, cos he mos stays with a woman he calls his 'housemate'. That said, he just lowered his head, and shook it. But tried to keep me in his office as long as possible. Another puzzle. I wish he'd stop telling me he's available, if he's not, or if he is, get his ass in gear, and do something about the chemistry. It's driving me nuts. Another thing that'll sort itself out, I suppose.
I do like him, a lot, and can see the 2 of us having a great time together, but I've never let myself get any closer that I am, because I know he's involved. It would be really nice to find out if we'd be as good together as I think we might be. Ah well, que sera sera.
Still nothing from JC, but I'm ok with that. It's kinda annoying that I keep thinking about him, but as everything else, I suppose not contantly having him on my mind, will take a while. Here's to believing in endings.
Blessed be.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Health Warning to Men: Avoid reading this if you don't like The Burn
Today, I could cheerfully swallow someone's head, without chewing. Today, the dragon is just burning to fry someone! So stand back.
Yes, I'm in a shitty mood. Frustrated as hell, and pissed off.
See, I have a phone stalker. And, up till now I could handle the bastard blocking his number, phoning any time of day, and hanging up when I answer, or if I don't answer, just letting it ring, and then hanging up. But today, I've had it. I'm am SO fed-up. I think it might be the alcoholic I dated a while back, remember? (Read archives if your don't). Whatever, I want it to STOP! Seriously, it's really freaking me out that someone can be so psychotic as to purposefully phone me just to drop the phone, day in and day out, over the course of almost 4 months!! I'm sorry, that's just sick. I mean, how depraved do you have to be to get some kind of kick out of that for such a long time! GET A LIFE! Coward! Mooooooove on, fuck someone, drink yourself blind, lose my number, pleeeeeeeeaaaasssseeee! If it's not him (which I doubt, since it started around the time I told him to move on), I appologise. And redirect the above comments to the other sick fuck who gets off on stalking.
Can anyone out there tell me why the hell I have to put up with sick behaviour from men? Is this a trait of the sex, or am I just that special? Whoever you are, do you even realise the damage you're doing to your sex's already severely tarnished image? At least from my viewpoint? You are just the last in a long line of dicks who have believed that the little blonde with the cutie face is gonna melt at your feet into a wet puddle and beg you to make me yours, just for owning a penis. Not gonna happen, you Neanderthal. I mean, I really like men, and sex, but I like men who have BALLS. You know, those symbolics things that your sex believes gives you courage to actually talk into a phone when someone picks up, or accept the fact that it's OVER, or just generally use the organ that fills up space in your skull! The things you seem to be 2 short of.
You are fucking with my belief-system here, and that's somewhere you just don't wanna go! I might seem like a mixed-up, generally harmless girl, but honey, this is one book that you should NOT judge by the cover! BIG MISTAKE! Just as well I don't know for certain who you are! I get kinda scary when I'm this pissed (and yes, I can refer you to men who can testify to that fact), and hurting someone as underdeveleoped as you, would probably be seen as cruelty to animals. I am trying to reprogramme my own organ (you know, the one in my skull, that I actually USE!) to believe that not all men are fucked-up, abusive, thoughtless, selfish sociopaths, and you, my gutless wonder, have just set men back a few thousand years!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My advice to you, grow some, or crawl back under the rock you belong, you prehistoric brainless reptile!
Yes, I'm in a shitty mood. Frustrated as hell, and pissed off.
See, I have a phone stalker. And, up till now I could handle the bastard blocking his number, phoning any time of day, and hanging up when I answer, or if I don't answer, just letting it ring, and then hanging up. But today, I've had it. I'm am SO fed-up. I think it might be the alcoholic I dated a while back, remember? (Read archives if your don't). Whatever, I want it to STOP! Seriously, it's really freaking me out that someone can be so psychotic as to purposefully phone me just to drop the phone, day in and day out, over the course of almost 4 months!! I'm sorry, that's just sick. I mean, how depraved do you have to be to get some kind of kick out of that for such a long time! GET A LIFE! Coward! Mooooooove on, fuck someone, drink yourself blind, lose my number, pleeeeeeeeaaaasssseeee! If it's not him (which I doubt, since it started around the time I told him to move on), I appologise. And redirect the above comments to the other sick fuck who gets off on stalking.
Can anyone out there tell me why the hell I have to put up with sick behaviour from men? Is this a trait of the sex, or am I just that special? Whoever you are, do you even realise the damage you're doing to your sex's already severely tarnished image? At least from my viewpoint? You are just the last in a long line of dicks who have believed that the little blonde with the cutie face is gonna melt at your feet into a wet puddle and beg you to make me yours, just for owning a penis. Not gonna happen, you Neanderthal. I mean, I really like men, and sex, but I like men who have BALLS. You know, those symbolics things that your sex believes gives you courage to actually talk into a phone when someone picks up, or accept the fact that it's OVER, or just generally use the organ that fills up space in your skull! The things you seem to be 2 short of.
You are fucking with my belief-system here, and that's somewhere you just don't wanna go! I might seem like a mixed-up, generally harmless girl, but honey, this is one book that you should NOT judge by the cover! BIG MISTAKE! Just as well I don't know for certain who you are! I get kinda scary when I'm this pissed (and yes, I can refer you to men who can testify to that fact), and hurting someone as underdeveleoped as you, would probably be seen as cruelty to animals. I am trying to reprogramme my own organ (you know, the one in my skull, that I actually USE!) to believe that not all men are fucked-up, abusive, thoughtless, selfish sociopaths, and you, my gutless wonder, have just set men back a few thousand years!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My advice to you, grow some, or crawl back under the rock you belong, you prehistoric brainless reptile!
Monday, November 20, 2006
Breath comes easier now
He's gone, back to the cold in the north. I feel lighter, and like I am breathing without counting each breath again. If he ever contacts me again, I plan on being honest. Honest! But, he has to make contact, cos I'm not going to shake this particluar dog while it's sleeping. Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say, is that it's a new day, and I don't feel like I have holes that my soul is seeping through. I feel more complete, and in my own skin, than I have for a while.
And I have a goal for the week, find something small, and have faith in it. Faith is another thing that seems to just flow naturally for others, but I have to really work at it, and haven't in a while. So, I'm hoping to find that thing to believe in, soon. Universe, you hear that? I need something...... Hey! I could have faith that I'll find something to have faith in, today, that'd be a good start! Great, that's sorted.
And I have a goal for the week, find something small, and have faith in it. Faith is another thing that seems to just flow naturally for others, but I have to really work at it, and haven't in a while. So, I'm hoping to find that thing to believe in, soon. Universe, you hear that? I need something...... Hey! I could have faith that I'll find something to have faith in, today, that'd be a good start! Great, that's sorted.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Song De'Jeur
HE'S LEAVING! HE'S LEAVING! HE'S LEAVING!
HE'S LEAVING! HE'S LEAVING! HE'S LEAVING!
(Take It To The Bridge)
HE'S LEAVING! HE'S LEAVING! HE'S LEAVING!
HE'S LEAVING! HE'S LEAVING! HE'S LEAVING!
(Take It To The Chorus)
HE'S LEAVING! HE'S LEAVING! HE'S LEAVING!
HE'S LEAVING! HE'S LEAVING! HE'S LEAVING!
(Take It To The Bridge)
HE'S LEAVING! HE'S LEAVING! HE'S LEAVING!
HE'S LEAVING! HE'S LEAVING! HE'S LEAVING!
(Take It To The Chorus)
*
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
On being emotionally challenged ......
She said, "There is no reason
and the truth is plain to see."
Sometimes the truth of a situation is as plain as the nose on your face, but 'there's none so blind, as those who will not see'. Which means, in my world, that I have 2 choices, keep on living in a semi-real dimension, where I balance vicariously on the word "MAYBE" for the rest of my natural life. Or I deal with the fact that I care deeply for someone who has already passed me by for this lifetime.
"And so it was that later
as the miller told his tale
that her face, at first just ghostly,
turned a whiter shade of pale."
And, Goddess knows, I want to deal, I do! Honestly, I don't know what it is what keeps me welded to JC, or how to sever this cord that makes me feel the blood moving in his veins, that makes the blood race in mine. Guardians, Angels all, I've asked, and asked and asked. No-one answers though. I wish I could, I need to somehow, know.
But she smiled at me so sadly
that my anger staightaway died
If music be the food of love
then laughter is it's Queen
and likewise if behind is in front
then dirt, in truth, is clean.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Monday, November 13, 2006
Backsliding can be fun .....
That strange sound? Oh, that was me laughing - out loud! Haven't done that in a looooooong while. I went to a year-end function, formal, on Saturday, and I actually had fun. I laughed as least as much as the past 8 months put together. I asked Janien, a very outspoken, very fun friend of mine, as my date, and teamed up with 2 other friends there. Was surprised at my own laugh, I have to admit.
Yesterday, chilling out at home. Fun.
Today, ah, this is where the backsliding comes into play. Today, JC decided to sms me. Nothing major, just wanted to know how I am, what I did the weekend, standard stuff. Joked about missing his favourite fastfood when he missed his lunch date with me. Told him that he's to blame for ditching me, got told off for saying he ditched me, and that I shouldn't be silly.
My reply? That it was just as well he ditched me, since I would've just gotten sad to say bye. His reply? None. Now, I know this doesn't sound like fun yet, but hell, gimme a break, I'm tryin' to make lemonade here! I think I need him to know that he affects me very badly, and I'm trying to work up the nerve to tell him. This, is a start. Instead of struggling, and getting stuck in the mud more and more, I think I'd like to think of it as a rejuvinating mud bath this time. Get some mileage out of sliding back into the mud, this time.
For now, a start is good enough. We'll see what happens.
Yesterday, chilling out at home. Fun.
Today, ah, this is where the backsliding comes into play. Today, JC decided to sms me. Nothing major, just wanted to know how I am, what I did the weekend, standard stuff. Joked about missing his favourite fastfood when he missed his lunch date with me. Told him that he's to blame for ditching me, got told off for saying he ditched me, and that I shouldn't be silly.
My reply? That it was just as well he ditched me, since I would've just gotten sad to say bye. His reply? None. Now, I know this doesn't sound like fun yet, but hell, gimme a break, I'm tryin' to make lemonade here! I think I need him to know that he affects me very badly, and I'm trying to work up the nerve to tell him. This, is a start. Instead of struggling, and getting stuck in the mud more and more, I think I'd like to think of it as a rejuvinating mud bath this time. Get some mileage out of sliding back into the mud, this time.
For now, a start is good enough. We'll see what happens.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Present/Pleasant state of mind
Sometimes reading that someone else is going through the same shit as I am, makes the misery seem silly. Came across a very interesting blog written by a Saudi Arabian lady, and lo and behold, we have the same problem!
Brief summary of said problem:
Having failed at romantic liaisons in the past, we now choose emotionally unavailable objects of affection, get fucked (sometimes literally, sometimes figuratively, sometimes both) and then have lengthy lamentations on whhhyyyyyy .....
You might be able to tell from the above tone, I am feeling better. Misery and I have temporarily parted ways.
Strange, seeing as I have still not heard anything from JC, someone attempted to steal my car (third time this year), and when unable to, took the radio as consolation. Plus, I haven't slept in 3 days (I'm an insomniac, in case I haven't mentioned that before).
When lying in bed, staring at the dark ceiling with burning eyes, I've taken to fantasising about kissing a certain collegue, and man!, is that doing wonders for my libido! Problem is .... he's living with someone, although he vehemently denies being seriously involved (duh!), and calls her a "housemate". We've been working together for years, and have always had lots of chemistry, and I've made a point of flirting quite outrageously. The kissing fantasy is based on kissing him on birthdays, and jeesh! am I sorry I can't do that more! It feels like he has the potential to be a REALLY brilliant kisser, something that registers very highly on my Richter scale. He recently asked me why I never sit down in his office, and I came to the conclusion that I find his huge desk and quiet manner intimidating, so I always hover around the door, ready to run, but now, I am damn happy about that desk, and very determined to keep my inner nympho firmly reigned in, since I get the distinct urge to crawl hands and knees over that desk, and plant myself in his lap, until we either spill onto the nearest flat surface, or he bodily removes me.
Anyway, I'll probably have to find some kind of release for all this pent-up energy, but that's a problem for another day, celibacy and my track record, is NOT a pleasant read! Although celibacy is the automatic default for me, when not in a serious relationship, it does NOT fit me well, and I feel like a horse being ridden with a bit in its mouth, with the painful, chafing, hateful thing, a permanent reminder of an unnatural state of affairs. It gets so bad that I break out in goosebumps when someone just touches me in the most innocent way, like my skin has a life of its own, and wishes it had suckers (like an octopus) to draw that person closer, and have my way with them.
Damn!
Brief summary of said problem:
Having failed at romantic liaisons in the past, we now choose emotionally unavailable objects of affection, get fucked (sometimes literally, sometimes figuratively, sometimes both) and then have lengthy lamentations on whhhyyyyyy .....
You might be able to tell from the above tone, I am feeling better. Misery and I have temporarily parted ways.
Strange, seeing as I have still not heard anything from JC, someone attempted to steal my car (third time this year), and when unable to, took the radio as consolation. Plus, I haven't slept in 3 days (I'm an insomniac, in case I haven't mentioned that before).
When lying in bed, staring at the dark ceiling with burning eyes, I've taken to fantasising about kissing a certain collegue, and man!, is that doing wonders for my libido! Problem is .... he's living with someone, although he vehemently denies being seriously involved (duh!), and calls her a "housemate". We've been working together for years, and have always had lots of chemistry, and I've made a point of flirting quite outrageously. The kissing fantasy is based on kissing him on birthdays, and jeesh! am I sorry I can't do that more! It feels like he has the potential to be a REALLY brilliant kisser, something that registers very highly on my Richter scale. He recently asked me why I never sit down in his office, and I came to the conclusion that I find his huge desk and quiet manner intimidating, so I always hover around the door, ready to run, but now, I am damn happy about that desk, and very determined to keep my inner nympho firmly reigned in, since I get the distinct urge to crawl hands and knees over that desk, and plant myself in his lap, until we either spill onto the nearest flat surface, or he bodily removes me.
Anyway, I'll probably have to find some kind of release for all this pent-up energy, but that's a problem for another day, celibacy and my track record, is NOT a pleasant read! Although celibacy is the automatic default for me, when not in a serious relationship, it does NOT fit me well, and I feel like a horse being ridden with a bit in its mouth, with the painful, chafing, hateful thing, a permanent reminder of an unnatural state of affairs. It gets so bad that I break out in goosebumps when someone just touches me in the most innocent way, like my skin has a life of its own, and wishes it had suckers (like an octopus) to draw that person closer, and have my way with them.
Damn!
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Rater be home with no one when I can't get down with you
In the words of my fave group, the magnificent, slightly twisted: SCISSOR SISTERS!!!!!
But I don't feel like dancin'
No sir, no dancin' today
Don't feel like dancin', dancin'
Even if I find nothin' better to do
Don't feel like dancin', dancin'.
No sir, no dancin' today.
But I don't feel like dancin'
No sir, no dancin' today
Don't feel like dancin', dancin'
Even if I find nothin' better to do
Don't feel like dancin', dancin'.
No sir, no dancin' today.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Fumbling Towards Ecstasy (appologies to Sarah)
And if I feel a rage
I won't deny it
I won't fear love!
And if I shed a tear
I won't cage it
I won't fear love!
I won't deny it
I won't fear love!
And if I shed a tear
I won't cage it
I won't fear love!
Perfect Day
My weekend was busy, luckily, so I had very little time to get all choked in my thoughts. I came to the quick conclusion that I need to figure out wether I've just given up on love for myself, or wether I've stopped believing in it all-together. It seems important to know that.
JC still hasn't contacted me, which is fine, I think the fact that we haven't spoken is what gives me the courage to not contact him. (That makes no sense, does it?). Anyway, I'm determined to let him know that I feel it's better if we don't have contact, but I'm terrified he might agree. If he ever contacts me again, that is. In the meantime, I'm telling myself, before I start the ardurous task of trying to fall asleep, that I AM worthy of love, I AM worthy of someone who is NOT twisted in one major way or the other, and I AM worthy of being adored for who and what I am. Just as I know I can adore, and love, and make someone's live just that little bit better, for being around.
Also working on realising that I am loved, not by everybody I hoped would love me, but hell, my life's never been that simple, has it? So, realising that there are those who stick with me, and who feel better for having me around, and who love me, is a big thing right now. Something I need. Something I feel I need to deal with. Something I need to accept, and not try and analyse until it collapses, and it's impossible to put it back together again. And look for reasons other that just that they love me, for them being here. I need to relearn trust. Wow, the stuff I need to do just gets more and more. Think I'll stop for now, don't have that much energy today, so let's not overdo the "Fix Myself" project, today.
JC still hasn't contacted me, which is fine, I think the fact that we haven't spoken is what gives me the courage to not contact him. (That makes no sense, does it?). Anyway, I'm determined to let him know that I feel it's better if we don't have contact, but I'm terrified he might agree. If he ever contacts me again, that is. In the meantime, I'm telling myself, before I start the ardurous task of trying to fall asleep, that I AM worthy of love, I AM worthy of someone who is NOT twisted in one major way or the other, and I AM worthy of being adored for who and what I am. Just as I know I can adore, and love, and make someone's live just that little bit better, for being around.
Also working on realising that I am loved, not by everybody I hoped would love me, but hell, my life's never been that simple, has it? So, realising that there are those who stick with me, and who feel better for having me around, and who love me, is a big thing right now. Something I need. Something I feel I need to deal with. Something I need to accept, and not try and analyse until it collapses, and it's impossible to put it back together again. And look for reasons other that just that they love me, for them being here. I need to relearn trust. Wow, the stuff I need to do just gets more and more. Think I'll stop for now, don't have that much energy today, so let's not overdo the "Fix Myself" project, today.
Friday, November 03, 2006
Today
See, today it’s got me. Yesterday, yesterday I was ok, yesterday I could cope with the moments the tears threatened, by smiling at my braveness, I actually walked away! But, today, no more. Today I miss you, and today I’m sorry, and today, I want to feel your arms around me. And today, you’re gone, and I’m probably never gonna see you again. And today, my heart breaks.
Dear Jean-Claude
Dear Jean-Claude
I am writing this letter to you, because although I cannot tell you the things I’m stating here, I want to in some way, make it concrete, so that it’s energy may reach you, and you’ll feel at least a pinprick of what I’m trying to convey.
I love you, first, foremost and probably, forever. I adore you, you make me feel young, innocent, flustered, ALIVE! You make my heart race, my whole body flush, and when you’re near me, people stare, because of how your presence makes my appearance change. I shine.
Because I can never have you, or even play any kind of significant role in your life, I hate this. I hate loving you, cos it makes me ache. When you are away, as you mostly are, I’m ok, as ok as I’m ever gonna be, which is good. And I even manage to sometimes convince myself that I can look at others, and eventually feel for others, and let others touch me, and maybe even shine for others, one day. And I feel good some days, and heavier than lead, other days. But the point is, I have hope. Hope that I don’t really feel the way I feel. That it’s just silliness, not real, a grande illusion. And I wake up, and I eat, and I go to work, and I raise my son. And I hope. And then, you call, or sms, or show up unexpectedly, like you felt my shielding somehow, and raced to me to fix it. To re-fasten the bindings you put on me, to splice my genes and infuse yourself into my mitochondrea, again. And a part deep deep inside, kicks and screams, and rages and wants to scratch and bite, and fight for myself, but the outer, stupid part just stands here, and shines. And the inside shrieks and burrows into my veins trying to get out and tell you, to go away, get away, and stay the FUCK AWAY. Like that would make you melt into the dimensions, and erase you from my cells, or something. Only that part never gets near enough to the surface to stop the shining, and the part that adores you, just keeps on adoring, now matter how ridiculous it is. Or how much it hurts. Cos that’s what I’m trying to say, really. It hurts, you- are- hurting- me (say that slowly so you’ll know how I wrote it).
I want you to stay away from me, with that small kernel deep inside that can reason even when you’re standing next to me, or hugging me, or touching me, (I’m even proud of that part, proud that SOME small bit can make sense you are around!), and even though the rest of me will never say that, that part will forever be screaming like a banshee, trying to wake me up. Cos that’s the smart thing, you see, staying away from you. But staying away from you feels impossible, like …. Fasting when you have low blood sugar, and you know, if you don’t eat, you’ll fall down, and if you still don’t eat, you’ll go to sleep, then to a coma, then to death. Like that. I know, it makes no sense. I know it’s not like that, loving you is not life-threatening, but it sure feels that way!
See! You phoned, and asked to see me to say bye, but I fled, and was very proud of myself for deciding. So you kakked me out for telling you that you were late, and said that you’d come over later. And the whole time my heart was pounding and I was smiling like a Cheshire Cat. SOOOOOOOO STUPID! And now, now it’s almost time to leave and you still haven’t shown. I’m not really surprised, and so far it doesn’t really hurt, but I think later …….
Don’t really know, maybe I am strong enough to stand this. Maybe one day it’ll just STOP, and I’ll see someone and want them with more of me than I want you, and they’ll be available, and kind, and mine. Maybe, if my supply of hope lasts, and I don’t lose my mind, and my heart doesn’t break so badly that it kills me, and I don’t just give up and disintegrate. In the meantime I stand on this goddamned cliff, watching you on the other side, calling to me, and I want so badly, to jump. But god knows, you’re not real, or you are, but in that respect, and for the purposes of my heart, you ‘re a mirage, something I see, that’s NOT there, NOT real, NOT an option. Sometimes I could almost hate you, if I tried hard enough, for being you (oh that’s a lie, I couldn’t, don’t know how).
I want you to leave me alone, but please, please don’t. I think I might need to figure out how to live over you, to be able to look back at you, and sweet that sweet, madonna-like smile, that says: “Ah those were strange, but good days”. So, that’s the goal for now, live right over you, move on, move on, and stop turning corners every time you feel the need to shake my very foundations.
Something I would like to know is how you actually feel, you’ve never told me that, did you know? Dunno if you really actually feel anything. I tell myself that the mere fact that you keep contact, and come to see me once a year, must mean that you do, but I guess that’s just shit, like the rest of it. Heart given to someone who may never even have wanted it. Sad. I’m an Idiot. Sela.
Whatever, right? Just another headcase, I know. I despise women who allow men to take them over, but I think I might have to rethink that, since I have joined that specific brigade. But you just go ahead and watch me, I am sure as hell gonna try, keep on rolling and rolling, I swear one day I’ll roll right over you, and kick you out of my way, without recognizing the shape of this. This horrible, gagging, suffocating, sorry thing that is what I feel for you. It’s not right, it shouldn’t live, it should be aborted. So there. Let’s try for that. And, fuck you and fuck the goddamned plane you flew in on, if you don’t agree.
Did I mention that I adore you?
Stay safe, love. I miss you.
I am writing this letter to you, because although I cannot tell you the things I’m stating here, I want to in some way, make it concrete, so that it’s energy may reach you, and you’ll feel at least a pinprick of what I’m trying to convey.
I love you, first, foremost and probably, forever. I adore you, you make me feel young, innocent, flustered, ALIVE! You make my heart race, my whole body flush, and when you’re near me, people stare, because of how your presence makes my appearance change. I shine.
Because I can never have you, or even play any kind of significant role in your life, I hate this. I hate loving you, cos it makes me ache. When you are away, as you mostly are, I’m ok, as ok as I’m ever gonna be, which is good. And I even manage to sometimes convince myself that I can look at others, and eventually feel for others, and let others touch me, and maybe even shine for others, one day. And I feel good some days, and heavier than lead, other days. But the point is, I have hope. Hope that I don’t really feel the way I feel. That it’s just silliness, not real, a grande illusion. And I wake up, and I eat, and I go to work, and I raise my son. And I hope. And then, you call, or sms, or show up unexpectedly, like you felt my shielding somehow, and raced to me to fix it. To re-fasten the bindings you put on me, to splice my genes and infuse yourself into my mitochondrea, again. And a part deep deep inside, kicks and screams, and rages and wants to scratch and bite, and fight for myself, but the outer, stupid part just stands here, and shines. And the inside shrieks and burrows into my veins trying to get out and tell you, to go away, get away, and stay the FUCK AWAY. Like that would make you melt into the dimensions, and erase you from my cells, or something. Only that part never gets near enough to the surface to stop the shining, and the part that adores you, just keeps on adoring, now matter how ridiculous it is. Or how much it hurts. Cos that’s what I’m trying to say, really. It hurts, you- are- hurting- me (say that slowly so you’ll know how I wrote it).
I want you to stay away from me, with that small kernel deep inside that can reason even when you’re standing next to me, or hugging me, or touching me, (I’m even proud of that part, proud that SOME small bit can make sense you are around!), and even though the rest of me will never say that, that part will forever be screaming like a banshee, trying to wake me up. Cos that’s the smart thing, you see, staying away from you. But staying away from you feels impossible, like …. Fasting when you have low blood sugar, and you know, if you don’t eat, you’ll fall down, and if you still don’t eat, you’ll go to sleep, then to a coma, then to death. Like that. I know, it makes no sense. I know it’s not like that, loving you is not life-threatening, but it sure feels that way!
See! You phoned, and asked to see me to say bye, but I fled, and was very proud of myself for deciding. So you kakked me out for telling you that you were late, and said that you’d come over later. And the whole time my heart was pounding and I was smiling like a Cheshire Cat. SOOOOOOOO STUPID! And now, now it’s almost time to leave and you still haven’t shown. I’m not really surprised, and so far it doesn’t really hurt, but I think later …….
Don’t really know, maybe I am strong enough to stand this. Maybe one day it’ll just STOP, and I’ll see someone and want them with more of me than I want you, and they’ll be available, and kind, and mine. Maybe, if my supply of hope lasts, and I don’t lose my mind, and my heart doesn’t break so badly that it kills me, and I don’t just give up and disintegrate. In the meantime I stand on this goddamned cliff, watching you on the other side, calling to me, and I want so badly, to jump. But god knows, you’re not real, or you are, but in that respect, and for the purposes of my heart, you ‘re a mirage, something I see, that’s NOT there, NOT real, NOT an option. Sometimes I could almost hate you, if I tried hard enough, for being you (oh that’s a lie, I couldn’t, don’t know how).
I want you to leave me alone, but please, please don’t. I think I might need to figure out how to live over you, to be able to look back at you, and sweet that sweet, madonna-like smile, that says: “Ah those were strange, but good days”. So, that’s the goal for now, live right over you, move on, move on, and stop turning corners every time you feel the need to shake my very foundations.
Something I would like to know is how you actually feel, you’ve never told me that, did you know? Dunno if you really actually feel anything. I tell myself that the mere fact that you keep contact, and come to see me once a year, must mean that you do, but I guess that’s just shit, like the rest of it. Heart given to someone who may never even have wanted it. Sad. I’m an Idiot. Sela.
Whatever, right? Just another headcase, I know. I despise women who allow men to take them over, but I think I might have to rethink that, since I have joined that specific brigade. But you just go ahead and watch me, I am sure as hell gonna try, keep on rolling and rolling, I swear one day I’ll roll right over you, and kick you out of my way, without recognizing the shape of this. This horrible, gagging, suffocating, sorry thing that is what I feel for you. It’s not right, it shouldn’t live, it should be aborted. So there. Let’s try for that. And, fuck you and fuck the goddamned plane you flew in on, if you don’t agree.
Did I mention that I adore you?
Stay safe, love. I miss you.
Waterfalls
Why do I feel so goddamn old? Me, who used to suffer a minor trombosis whenever a child called me auntie, now feel calm and serene when called that. Like it’s my right, as an elder, which I'm not.
I feel ancient, like my bones should ache as much as my heart and mind does. Like my body should be more bent, and I even find myself walking uncomfortably.
Love has been closed off somewhere in the maze of hiding places inside me. I imagine it looks like a huge catacomb, that just stretches endlessly into the dark. Somewhere in there, is what I believed I deserve, love. Changed my mind about that, think now, that its just a dream some people have, like mass hysteria, real for those who experience it, but something silly and irrelevant for those of us, who don’t. I consider myself a ‘non-loved’ one.
Maybe I had that dream too, and when I woke up, blocked the memory of it, cos sometimes my heart feels like lead, and my legs can’t stand the weight. In my mind I sink to the floor, all dramatic-like, and sit, panting, too exhausted and heavy to move. In reality, I sometimes feel nauseous from all the tears I swallow. Can’t let them fall, no no, can’t let them show.
Anyway. I’ve finally given up on maybe. Maybe tomorrow, someone will see me, maybe the day after, maybe before I’m too old, maybe, someone will realize that I’m worth something. What-the-fuck-ing-ever. Not gonna happen. And, right about now, my mom would be getting very pissed off with me if she read this, cos she believes that we create what we express. Which I believe in too, cept I don’t believe that we spend this life talking and expressing things, and they materialize on command. I believe that there is a pre-approved life plan, and I’ve come to believe that mine does not include the thing I describe as love.
And, just because I feel like giving a lengthy explanation of why I believe this, here it is:
Since teenaged, I cannot remember one single relationship that I even called a relationship, and I have recently come to the realization, that I actually had a few relationships, seriously, I just never thought they meant enough (to me) to count.
Then I married a typical “perpetual boy”-type, who in the end irritated me so much, that it took years for me to have any kind feelings toward him, keep in mind, that’s years after the divorce!
My next enterprise into the hemisphere of “love” involved my first and only one-night stand, with (unbeknownst to me) an engaged guy on his bachelors night. Realising that I was being sent home like a used toy the morning after, left me shaking (literally) and feeling dirty and worthless, always a good feeling when freshly divorced.
Next, a year and a half of e-mails with a lover from across the ocean, met here while on a selfless mission to help us poor third-worlders by sharing his skills. While here, I noticed a few quirks, but decided I could live with them, since I’m not exactly quirk-less myself. He was sweet, smart, treated me like an equal, and made me feel beautiful, appreciated and wanted (shoulda known there was something seriously wrong right there, shouldn’t I?) Go visit him in the snow, to explore the possibility of getting married (YIKES!) and moving there. Discover he is a sado-masochistic bastard who treats me like a mindless little pet, something that needs to be herded around the streets of his world like a cute, but dumb, little lamb. Spent about 2 weeks sleeping on the floor in his study in the middle of the crazy northern winter.
Almost up to date. After 2 years of celibacy, met up with a man I used to like in school, at a night club (which makes so much sense now). After giving him my number rather reluctantly, I slept with him on the first night (unheard of, for me) still don’t fully understand why. Noticed after about 3 weeks that he drinks rather heavily, and questioned him about it. Upon realizing that he is a full-blown alcoholic (shoulda seen that one coming, shouldn’t I?) I spent the next 10 months (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) trying to understand why I should stay, and compete with a bottle for affection. He tried to explain, god knows, but I still don’t get how dousing everything with spirits makes it better (stupid blonde!). Finally managed to convince him I’m really not joking when I say I don’t want to see him anymore, 2 days ago. Yay for me!
I asked my mom (she thought I was joking) what other category of freak she thinks will pick me next. I wasn’t joking though. So now, I’ve decided not to buy tickets anymore. You know, you can’t win lotto if you don’t play? Well that’s my thinking about “love”. Can’t attract flies if you don’t smell. This person’s pheromones are staying in her panty from now on. Maybe (there’s that word again) I’ll dry up fast and painlessly. And maybe (aaaaargghhhh) I won’t feel like I’m being torn apart limb by limb from the vibrations of a shrinking, shrieking, heart.
If someone with Sight told me that I came here to love I would’ve believed, cos my soul feels like it carries around this huge amount of unused love, which is, I guess, what makes me feel so heavy, and worn. Pity really, the world should have at least one use for love, you’d think. But maybe (!) mine’s defective. In my defense, so am I, so that remark is not as self-pitying as it sounds. Just realistic. So god-damn deadeningly realistic.
These days, I perpetually feel like crying, like my brain’s turned into an ocean behind my eyes, trying to spill over. Like if I start crying, my face and chest, pelvis and legs will become the backdrop for one of those spectacular waterfalls, like it wouldn’t ever stop, and I’ll become the crying one, that looks like a waterfall. Cool. At least I’ll be something. After a few years my face and breasts would wear away, and I’ll be all smooth and beautiful, and the only sign of life, would be the beautiful water, falling and falling and falling.
I feel ancient, like my bones should ache as much as my heart and mind does. Like my body should be more bent, and I even find myself walking uncomfortably.
Love has been closed off somewhere in the maze of hiding places inside me. I imagine it looks like a huge catacomb, that just stretches endlessly into the dark. Somewhere in there, is what I believed I deserve, love. Changed my mind about that, think now, that its just a dream some people have, like mass hysteria, real for those who experience it, but something silly and irrelevant for those of us, who don’t. I consider myself a ‘non-loved’ one.
Maybe I had that dream too, and when I woke up, blocked the memory of it, cos sometimes my heart feels like lead, and my legs can’t stand the weight. In my mind I sink to the floor, all dramatic-like, and sit, panting, too exhausted and heavy to move. In reality, I sometimes feel nauseous from all the tears I swallow. Can’t let them fall, no no, can’t let them show.
Anyway. I’ve finally given up on maybe. Maybe tomorrow, someone will see me, maybe the day after, maybe before I’m too old, maybe, someone will realize that I’m worth something. What-the-fuck-ing-ever. Not gonna happen. And, right about now, my mom would be getting very pissed off with me if she read this, cos she believes that we create what we express. Which I believe in too, cept I don’t believe that we spend this life talking and expressing things, and they materialize on command. I believe that there is a pre-approved life plan, and I’ve come to believe that mine does not include the thing I describe as love.
And, just because I feel like giving a lengthy explanation of why I believe this, here it is:
Since teenaged, I cannot remember one single relationship that I even called a relationship, and I have recently come to the realization, that I actually had a few relationships, seriously, I just never thought they meant enough (to me) to count.
Then I married a typical “perpetual boy”-type, who in the end irritated me so much, that it took years for me to have any kind feelings toward him, keep in mind, that’s years after the divorce!
My next enterprise into the hemisphere of “love” involved my first and only one-night stand, with (unbeknownst to me) an engaged guy on his bachelors night. Realising that I was being sent home like a used toy the morning after, left me shaking (literally) and feeling dirty and worthless, always a good feeling when freshly divorced.
Next, a year and a half of e-mails with a lover from across the ocean, met here while on a selfless mission to help us poor third-worlders by sharing his skills. While here, I noticed a few quirks, but decided I could live with them, since I’m not exactly quirk-less myself. He was sweet, smart, treated me like an equal, and made me feel beautiful, appreciated and wanted (shoulda known there was something seriously wrong right there, shouldn’t I?) Go visit him in the snow, to explore the possibility of getting married (YIKES!) and moving there. Discover he is a sado-masochistic bastard who treats me like a mindless little pet, something that needs to be herded around the streets of his world like a cute, but dumb, little lamb. Spent about 2 weeks sleeping on the floor in his study in the middle of the crazy northern winter.
Almost up to date. After 2 years of celibacy, met up with a man I used to like in school, at a night club (which makes so much sense now). After giving him my number rather reluctantly, I slept with him on the first night (unheard of, for me) still don’t fully understand why. Noticed after about 3 weeks that he drinks rather heavily, and questioned him about it. Upon realizing that he is a full-blown alcoholic (shoulda seen that one coming, shouldn’t I?) I spent the next 10 months (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) trying to understand why I should stay, and compete with a bottle for affection. He tried to explain, god knows, but I still don’t get how dousing everything with spirits makes it better (stupid blonde!). Finally managed to convince him I’m really not joking when I say I don’t want to see him anymore, 2 days ago. Yay for me!
I asked my mom (she thought I was joking) what other category of freak she thinks will pick me next. I wasn’t joking though. So now, I’ve decided not to buy tickets anymore. You know, you can’t win lotto if you don’t play? Well that’s my thinking about “love”. Can’t attract flies if you don’t smell. This person’s pheromones are staying in her panty from now on. Maybe (there’s that word again) I’ll dry up fast and painlessly. And maybe (aaaaargghhhh) I won’t feel like I’m being torn apart limb by limb from the vibrations of a shrinking, shrieking, heart.
If someone with Sight told me that I came here to love I would’ve believed, cos my soul feels like it carries around this huge amount of unused love, which is, I guess, what makes me feel so heavy, and worn. Pity really, the world should have at least one use for love, you’d think. But maybe (!) mine’s defective. In my defense, so am I, so that remark is not as self-pitying as it sounds. Just realistic. So god-damn deadeningly realistic.
These days, I perpetually feel like crying, like my brain’s turned into an ocean behind my eyes, trying to spill over. Like if I start crying, my face and chest, pelvis and legs will become the backdrop for one of those spectacular waterfalls, like it wouldn’t ever stop, and I’ll become the crying one, that looks like a waterfall. Cool. At least I’ll be something. After a few years my face and breasts would wear away, and I’ll be all smooth and beautiful, and the only sign of life, would be the beautiful water, falling and falling and falling.
Somewhere in September
I don’t think I’ve ever felt this alone in my life. It’s like I’m standing on the North Pole, and every direction I turn, there’s nothing but white loneliness, so pure & bright it hurts my eyes.
Like I’m deaf & blind, and need a hug, but don’t know where to turn for comfort, cos I can’t hear or see, there’s no-one there.
I think I might be going a little more off it.
Like I’m deaf & blind, and need a hug, but don’t know where to turn for comfort, cos I can’t hear or see, there’s no-one there.
I think I might be going a little more off it.
Impossible
I LIVE AN IMPOSSIBLE LIFE.
I think (note: think, since I have no previous experience to base it on) that I may deeply love someone. Funny thing is: it’s impossible. Let me tell you why:
Fact no 1: He’s not single.
Fact no 2: He’s very religious
Fact no 3: He wasn't brought up in the same culture as me
Fact no 4: He’s not currently living anywhere near here
Funny, heh?
Hilarious.
Let’s for a second ignore facts no 1, and 4. I was brought up by deeply prejudiced parents, in a deeply divided country, in a very violent, intolerant community. So, even though Fact no 1 should already be enough to force my heart into some kind of rational decision, facts 2 & 3 makes even the possibility of ever being able to love him openly, a silly daydream. Which doesn’t stop me from dreaming it though, on a daily basis. I dream of having his child, a beautiful little girl with huge, dark eyes, that make you shiver when they turn on you (like her daddy’s do). The problem is, even in the dream, I can’t seem to get out of my bedroom with her, because she will be forever a novelty, living inbetween 2 seperate worlds. In my world, having me as a mommy and him as a daddy, would make her an oddity …… something strange and therefore unacceptable. I have talked about having a second child even if I’m not in a relationship, simply because I would love to, and this man is the man that I want to do that with, even if he won’t be a father, husband, lover, or steady feature in our lives. He is committed to a girl who earns a great deal more, has a very high standing in their society, and even though it is a very convenient relationship, it was by no means an unwanted match. He is pretty serious about his religion, and chose a woman of the same faith (obviously). Being a male born into his community, he was spoilt rotten as child, and expects obedience and ignorance from a wife. Which hardly describes me, on any day. He tells me he’s not coming back here, but keeps contact with me, only with me, out of the group of friends we shared, when he was here. That makes me ache, and keeps me hanging on to a very thin thread, which I sometimes think, exists only in my heart, and that, in reality, I’m clutching at nothing, and only my silly heart is making me stand.
I have never told all this, I have 2 people I have thought of telling, but 1 is a mutual friend. The second is my mom, and no matter how open-minded and free thinking she is, I don’t think she’d understand this. So now I carry this around, for going on 2 years. I think it’s getting too much for me, I miss him every day, and whenever it gets too much, it’s like he picks up on that, and he e-mails me. I think about him every day, I listen to songs that describe how I feel about him, and wish I could let him know. It feels like I’ll have to carry this burden for the rest of my life, and like this will forever keep me from loving completely. Thing is, I don’t think I mind that, I don’t want to stop, or even try to stop my feelings for him. I feel as if it would make my life less than it is. That without this ache I would be anchorless, and just float into a dimension without sound, or touch, like your body feels when you stay under water a long time…… like it’s gone, and nothing can reach you. I don’t want that. Even aching for him is better than being numb.
So, I’m living ‘ in the meantime’ until something happens. And not living, until something happens. Impossible. Funny, heh?
I think (note: think, since I have no previous experience to base it on) that I may deeply love someone. Funny thing is: it’s impossible. Let me tell you why:
Fact no 1: He’s not single.
Fact no 2: He’s very religious
Fact no 3: He wasn't brought up in the same culture as me
Fact no 4: He’s not currently living anywhere near here
Funny, heh?
Hilarious.
Let’s for a second ignore facts no 1, and 4. I was brought up by deeply prejudiced parents, in a deeply divided country, in a very violent, intolerant community. So, even though Fact no 1 should already be enough to force my heart into some kind of rational decision, facts 2 & 3 makes even the possibility of ever being able to love him openly, a silly daydream. Which doesn’t stop me from dreaming it though, on a daily basis. I dream of having his child, a beautiful little girl with huge, dark eyes, that make you shiver when they turn on you (like her daddy’s do). The problem is, even in the dream, I can’t seem to get out of my bedroom with her, because she will be forever a novelty, living inbetween 2 seperate worlds. In my world, having me as a mommy and him as a daddy, would make her an oddity …… something strange and therefore unacceptable. I have talked about having a second child even if I’m not in a relationship, simply because I would love to, and this man is the man that I want to do that with, even if he won’t be a father, husband, lover, or steady feature in our lives. He is committed to a girl who earns a great deal more, has a very high standing in their society, and even though it is a very convenient relationship, it was by no means an unwanted match. He is pretty serious about his religion, and chose a woman of the same faith (obviously). Being a male born into his community, he was spoilt rotten as child, and expects obedience and ignorance from a wife. Which hardly describes me, on any day. He tells me he’s not coming back here, but keeps contact with me, only with me, out of the group of friends we shared, when he was here. That makes me ache, and keeps me hanging on to a very thin thread, which I sometimes think, exists only in my heart, and that, in reality, I’m clutching at nothing, and only my silly heart is making me stand.
I have never told all this, I have 2 people I have thought of telling, but 1 is a mutual friend. The second is my mom, and no matter how open-minded and free thinking she is, I don’t think she’d understand this. So now I carry this around, for going on 2 years. I think it’s getting too much for me, I miss him every day, and whenever it gets too much, it’s like he picks up on that, and he e-mails me. I think about him every day, I listen to songs that describe how I feel about him, and wish I could let him know. It feels like I’ll have to carry this burden for the rest of my life, and like this will forever keep me from loving completely. Thing is, I don’t think I mind that, I don’t want to stop, or even try to stop my feelings for him. I feel as if it would make my life less than it is. That without this ache I would be anchorless, and just float into a dimension without sound, or touch, like your body feels when you stay under water a long time…… like it’s gone, and nothing can reach you. I don’t want that. Even aching for him is better than being numb.
So, I’m living ‘ in the meantime’ until something happens. And not living, until something happens. Impossible. Funny, heh?
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