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For a few days now I've had this feeling that I have something inside of me that wants out, but I have not yet found out what it is, or which way it specifically wants to be expressed. I'm
it's words, but that may just be because I am too lazy to get out my drawing supplies.
Maybe it's just feelings. Feelings are always complicated with me; they don't usually come out any way at all. More likely I'll bury myself in a book and soak up its atmosphere instead. Which isn't so great when it's a depressing book.
I am resentful of my mother's refusal to accept me.
I am fearful of the future and unemployment.
I am frustrated that I can't decide what to do with my life.
I am doubtful of my integrity and courage.
I am lethargic because that's just how I am.
I am angry at myself for not being a better person.
I am scared of sinking back into depression.
I am running out of things to list, but I have another 18 words to go. I thought writing it all down would help. I am not sure if it did.
I thought I had words in me but it seems I was wrong. There's definitely nothing eagerly spilling out of me, and this is becoming rather painful and pointless.
I went to the theatre last night, to see
The Last of the Haussmans
. It was okay, not really worth the £50 the ticket and train fare cost me. I also went to see
at Tate, which was also okay and not really worth the £10 it cost me.
Now I have nothing planned until I go to Vienna on the 24th. I guess that's not that long now.
Oh God, what if I open the curtains and there's a monster outside?
This is the final sentence of an entry I wrote on here in July last year. Interestingly enough, I get that a lot again these days. Well, I don't actually fear that there
a monster outside. But I look through the window into the darkness and I wonder,
WHAT IF MONSTERS WERE REAL?
But then they are, aren't they, in our imaginations. It is so easy to get sucked into a story, an alternate reality. Why should the one out there be the only valid one?
I think today was a good example of the best and the worst in humanity. Curiosity landed on Mars, and a madman killed seven innocent people. You look at these two events and you try to, I don't know, draw a balance? To hate or to love humans. I guess it is possible to do both.
I wish we could get rid of the idiots though, seriously. Well, or treat their unwellness so they don't go on shooting sprees. What has become of you, America? Can you even look in the mirror without being terrified?! These people can't be ignored!
My mood, it hath improved!
That's five words. Clearly not enough. Do you know all the stuff I could do if I had infinite energy? Like reorganising my flat so as to fit in a proper sewing corner somewhere. That would be totally awesome.
I do have amazing bookshelves though. It is shocking how quickly I accumulate books, and how hard it is to let go of them. One of my friends keeps trying to convince me to go all digital. Doesn't he realise how
And for that reason I will never move out of this flat.
My eyes keep being drawn to "lose the pig". If I had a job and more spare cash I might make a $100 donation to "lose the glaring purple graphic with bad punctuation and random capitalisation about losing the pig." Perhaps I'd request that the pig be put back. I didn't mind the pig. Then the person who was annoyed with it could make the next donation, and so on and so on until the 100words guys are filthy rich and we're both broke and/or frustrated. A DONATION WAR! Sounds fun! Good thing I'm broke and jobless (I think?).
Tonight I'd be quite happy to just type Placebo Placebo Placebo Placebo Placebo Placebo Placebo Placebo Placebo Placebo Placebo Placebo Placebo Placebo Placebo 100 times.
Placebo (Placebo Placebo Placebo) are my favourite band in the whole wide world, and if they ever stop touring I will... I don't know what I'll do, but I will lose one of my main reasons for living.
I'll next see them in Helsinki on 14th September, which is in five weeks and two days. Ages yet it seems, but at least there
a next time! A next experience of pure bliss and happiness :)
I suck at painting my nails. I'm not a very girly girl. I'm not a girl at all anymore though, I'm nearly 35! How depressing. I've started counting wrinkles too. Of course it might help if I didn't lie in the sun roasting for hours.
But sun so nice! And tan pretty! My nails - Revlon Sunshine Sparkle - look so much better on tanned skin. It's funny though how it used to be that pale was thought of as noble when people worked outside in the sun all day, and now we're all office worker bees people spend hours getting tans.
On the beach today I was listening in to my neighbour's and her friend's conversation. They go back some thirty years and have almost always lived close to each other.
I realised that I don't have anyone like that. I speak to my "back home" friends maybe twice a year, my "close" friends are scattered around the world and lead completely separate lives from me, and my "local" friends are transient and change every few years.
I know I wouldn't wanna have the kinda life that led to those kind of friends, but I'm maybe a little jealous of her.
I have returned from meteor-watching. Well. I drove to a dark spot. 'Twas very dark indeed and somewhat disconcerting. Then I lay in the grass, away from the road and passing cars with their friggin' headlights, and I stared at the sky for a good half hour or so. I saw a few moving things, perhaps, out of the corner of my eye. They may have been meteors. Or bugs. Or my imagination. I definitely did see half a dozen planes. And I heard crickets, and the wind blowing through an unidentified object and making a pretty creepy sound.
Oh world, I won't lie. I have by far the most fun when I'm not in full time employment. Slave to the Wage and all that. So perhaps I should give up trying to find "the job", move somewhere cheaper and live off the money I have. All I need is a beach and an Internet connection. It's not like I have (m)any friends where I live now, and the weather sucks.
("All it takes is one decision, a lot of guts, a little vision to wave... your worries, your cares goodbye!")
So say Placebo. Still scary though!
Two hours she'd been sitting in the same spot nursing a beer that was probably lukewarm by now. She was not from around here and the regulars had been eyeing her suspiciously. This was not a place that saw a lot of out-of-towners. You had to turn off the main road and continue for a good two miles. Road-trippers and flying salesmen usually stopped at Denny's across the road from the motel.
But not this one. She'd come all the way out here. And just sat there. She was after something, or someone, for sure. But who?
She was probably around thirty-five years old, blonde hair, bleached, with the roots showing. Small wrinkles were starting to develop around her eyes, but you could only tell if you got close to her, to ask if she wanted anything else for example. She was still pretty though, lovely full lips and pert little breasts. Not that anyone was staring at those. Just a little glance, maybe.
She was wearing a red summer dress and flip flops, and she was still sitting there. Three hours now. Something had to happen. Someone had to go up and
But of course no one had the guts to actually strike up a conversation with her. Grown ass men, most of them could lift 200 pounds with their bare hands and weren't afraid to get in a fight, but don't you dare suggest they talk to a strange woman! How any of them had ever gotten laid was a mystery.
And that's how she came to sit there until the bar closed at 1am. And then she left, never to be seen again. Maybe she hadn't been looking for anyone after all.
[yes, bored of this now, can you tell?]
Elvis died 35 years ago today. I only know this because one of my childhood best friends was born on that day and we used to joke she was his reincarnation. Not that she was
like him. Nor did we really believe in reincarnation.
I will be 35 in just under a month. That's pretty much half of my life over, right there. In fact I hope I won't turn 70, seems awfully old. Of course, if I were to work until I'm 65 that wouldn't leave very much retirement. But then I have no intention of doing that.
I am now four days behind on this. I guess that's what happens when life happens. I'm also, I admit it, "not feeling it", as they say. But the further I fall behind, the harder it gets, so here we go.
I am currently in a place of doubting myself, questioning the reason and justification for my existence. The conclusions I come to are not pretty. The logical action would be to change something, but I am not finding this easy. I have been trying for a long time. What reason should there be that it would suddenly work now?
Having noted a few days ago that I am at around the half-way point of my life, and presently finding myself in a renewed state of self-doubt, I am wondering if I should consider this a proper midlife crisis. Wikipedia says the average onset of this is 46 years, but then most people expect to get older than I do. So does it count? I don't know. I do know that while I am used to questioning myself, I haven't really felt low and dark the way I am now in a long time, and this is scary.
Still, the way I feel now is miles from how I used to feel back when I was constantly depressed. It's not even on the same
. And along with the lows I have had some pretty amazing highs to make up for it - all quite different from the perpetual state of greyness I'd grown used to these past two years ("grey" by the way is the state between black - depression - and bright - a high/hypomania. So while it sounds quite dreary, grey is actually not the worst place to be. It's kinda like "meh").
Anyway, I probably shouldn't complain. Much.
Yet again I am days behind. This isn't going to get any better cuz I'm leaving for Vienna tomorrow so won't be writing again until the 28th at the earliest. And now it's midnight and I should sleep, though I'm not particularly tired due to the inevitable nap I took earlier. These naps will be the death of me. Though quite a pleasant death, I suppose, doesn't everyone want to die peacefully in their sleep? I think I'd rather have something more dramatic though. I wanna go out with a bang, not with a whimper! (But nothing plainful please! *lol*)
Okay, so now I am eight days behind. Eight days, that's 800 words, almost half a standard undergraduate essay! Actually I should write "eight hundred words", that would give me one extra word as opposed to 800. How far can I take this writing about nothing? Oh trust me, I'm very good at it! I once wrote a whole paragraph exclusively about the act of writing a paragraph in a letter to a friend. It was an experiment and very boring to read no doubt. I should use this for writing exercises, really. But I have so very little time!
I take shit photos. I think it has to do with being a bad observer. Same reason I can't write descriptions and have absolutely abysmal visual memory. It's funny, cuz I have a vivid imagination, but my imaginary worlds are quite... blurry? And it doesn't
me, presumably because even in my daydreams I don't observe carefully enough to notice. *lol*
It really annoys me though, in general. I feel like I'm missing out on lots of stuff just cuz I don't
it. I bet my prosopagnosia is also linked to this. I'd be the worst crime witness ever!
23rd of August... that was last Thursday. I can't even remember what I did, other than going to work. Not that it matters, since this isn't supposed to be a diary. Well, I can have it be anything I want, but I'd rather it weren't.
Apparently Doctor Who is back on Saturday. Good thing I don't have anything planned. Or do I? Don't think so. I'm doing motorbike practice during the day, but will long be done by 7.20pm. Or dead? I will long be dead...
I'm still not over the fact that R.E.M. split up. How dare they.
When my Facebook newsfeed goes quiet I know it's time to go to bed. It seems most of my friends do still live in the same time zone as I. OK, let me sort them by continent, because hey, why not, not like I should be going to bed!
*cough* Not very diverse, is it? Maybe I should do more couchsurfing (specifically couchhosting) to make more friends from more places.
One day I
travel the world. Not now though. Now I'll finally go to bed!
I am delighted! I got a postcard from a dude I was writing to who's in jail in California. He sounds so adorable! (I didn't think he'd even bother replying cuz hey, he might wanna keep his postage money for friends and family, right?) Seriously, he really made my day. In all my cynicism and misanthropy (was just reading some old blog entries of mine where I complain about how much I hate people), it actually makes me really happy to have positive interactions with people. Which reminds me, I need to make an appointment to give blood. There, done.
I Was Here: One
I used to find this song very comforting and hopeful. It reminded me of how insignificant we are and how little time we have here, but what an amazing experience it is to have been part of it all, of this
universe. It's all we're gonna get and we should make the best of it. When you're lying on your deathbed all you can
say is "I was here, and that is enough." It's a similar feeling to the one I get when I look up at the stars, or out over the ocean.
I Was Here: two
Recently though the song has made me feel sad, inadequate, and guilty. The focus has shifted onto the "leave your mark, make the world a better place" message and this has painfully reminded me that my contributions to this place are likely not a net gain. Sure, I do some nice stuff: I donate (less now that I'm poor), I volunteer, I make gifts for people... but I also pollute, use up resources, scowl and growl at people and am not necessarily a particularly nice person, all things considered. The logical conclusion... well, you can imagine.
Oh fucking great, I just lost an entry cuz it logged me out. It was a whingey one too, but I'm not gonna write it all again, let me just say in summary that summer's over, it was a shitty summer and not worth the wait, and now the whole period of gloom and drabness and grey and cold starts over and I. FUCKING. HATE. IT!
Whyyyyy do I live in this friggin' country!? I need to get away to somewhere warmer, but I can't be bothered to pack up all my stuff and haul it off to somewhere else.
Today was Michael Jackson's birthday, but like so often I didn't remember until someone mentioned it on Twitter or Facebook. Some fans bake and/or eat a cake in his honour every year I think. I sometimes listen to a song or something.
I was re-reading some of my old MJ blog entries again the other day and... I dunno. Actually I just realised I have nothing of substance to say about this, I just thought I'd write about him on this day. Kind of a failure, uh?
Well, looks like I managed to get to 100 words anyway!
I've just accepted my fourth Couchsurfer into my home. She sounds very cool. But I fear I might regret this later cuz I've had so little time to myself, what with Vienna, then two days of work, then five days of motorcycle training, then I'll need to get some work done again... it's all been quite stressful and I'd been looking forward to some me time. Now I'll need to be gracious host for two days as well.
Hopefully it will be fine though. I don't actually feel too antisocial right now, just a little bit tired and stressed out.
Why is it that you can still do this to me, years down the line? I have been so much better! There is no more drama in my life, you know? And yet, here I am, heart leaping like I'm 16 years old.
Oh, how I want this back, how I crave the drama and the depth of those feelings! But I
different, the rational part of me is stronger, it keeps the crazy leaping heart in check. For now.
I hate everything about this. How I wish it were simple and painless. Not so many layers of wrong.
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