You are currently browsing the monthly archive for May, 2007.
I noticed that when your self esteem goes alot of other things go with it.Like your ability to talk and look at people at the same time.
Also your ability to feel and think at the same time.
Social mulitasking has suddenly become a challange.
Interesting.
I feel like an idiot.
So… I’m going to post photo’s which remind me of whats on my mind at the moment, seeing as the words I seem to want to use are not the way I want to express my “loss”.
And no, I don’t want to talk about it, not with you anyway…
The stars will light the sky for you, Always God be praised. And I sing, The lord is on high, The lord is on high.
When you know he isn’t good for you, yet.
When you try to forget about what happened.
When you tell yourself somthing and do the opposite.
When you forget how to talk cos your too busy checking him out.
Not right now, this can’t happen now.
Not until everything else goes away.
It’s too easy to let go and pretend.
I want to vent, I want to scream, I want to cry.
I want not to feel anymore.
Will I run? Will I hide? Or, do I just give in and let go?
Only to go down that road again, to slip into the farmilliar skin.
To not fear, to play games, to tease, to taste, to own.
But I do fear, I hide, I run.
But I also love.
I also listen.
I also breathe. Sometimes.
Sometimes, I even glow.
A moth to a flame they say.
Am I that easily tamed by lust?
I lust for those close to me also,
It’s different, the flame is warm,
It isn’t the cold blue flame I’m used to.
What to choose. Where to go. This, only God knows.
I want you to want me.
I need you to need me.
I’d love you to love me.
I’m beggin you to beg me.
So what if I have a crush?
Yes, I know saying that makes me sound like I’m 12.
Having some one to look forward to during my week of doing Nothing makes life that much more exciting.
I think this week was filled with me not wanting to be me.
Trying to go back to my old ways and pretend that nothing effects me.
Being like that makes it so much easier to focus on other peoples faults instead of their goodness.
I get sick sometimes of everyones, and my negativity.
So many people I talk to about serious stuff are so cyinical.
Sometimes I imbrace it,
Some times it just pisses me off.
Small group this week is going to be AWESOME.
Just because Kathryn and I are appointed supper bringers,
It’s reminded me how I can be excited for having a purpose.
Normally apontiments scare the hell out of me,
All I think about is how >trapped< I am.
The expectation of me having to be somewhere
And stay there for a certain amount of time,
when I know I can’t not pee for that long.
It’s difficult.
Life is just damn difficult
The challange is finding out the value of why all this has happened to me.
Can I find the value in my suffering.
I can see the value in my suffering being over.
I still love when I’m in pain, and love still is painfull no matter what form it takes.
My love is a longing, a searching and a moving force.
Hating myself and others just dulls the pain, the pang, the need,
for love
Are we all trained to be controlled by fear?
I’ve been thinking alot about Taste Aversion lately. (what they didn’t mention that the effectiveness of taste avesion is dependant on the space of time inbetween eating the food and feeling sick, the more time inbetween, the less the two are associated)
I love that it is a one trial learning reflex. In other words, it only takes one trial for the person (or animal) to relate the neutral simulus to the unconditioned one. One bad experience of a nasty omlette, to never want to try it again. This can also have stimulus genralisation, the added rotten anchovies in that omlette may lead you to never try any omlette ever again, even if your guarenteed it doesn’t have anchovies in it.
This is going to sound like a big stretch, but just say that you applied that theory, of taste avertion, one trial learning and simulus genralisation to a social setting. Genralise taste aversion to any personal trial, it still being one particular incedent that a behaviour was learned, and then that simulus was genralised, leading to classical conditioning of other similar circumstances.
I’m sure theres a study of what ever this idea is in social science, but this is the only logical way I can come to this conclution. Once someone has has been in a situation where there has been a case of taste avertion, the wall is put up, you can eather live behind it because you think it is protecting you, or you can try and break that wall down to see whats on the other side. Even if you think that what ever is on the other side of the wall is going to hurt you.
Fear is captivating. You can be afraid for good reasons. Logical reasons. Fear is fear though, and all fear should be overcome, so that it isn’t controlling. So why is it that people are so afraid to try and not be afraid? Fear of an unknown identity perhaps? Fear of the unknown? Fear of fear itself?
It’s common to think that other things demand more attention out of nessecity, Money, Job, Education and Love. But fear also damages all of these.
So, why do people get left behind when they try and fix themselves?
Is it true that life goes on without you, no matter how broken you are? Or is this just another fear that needs to be delt with?
This is going to be my last post for awhile, I’m only being non specific about the time because I’m not sure how long I will last trying not to post blogs. Might be a day, a week or longer. I think I need a break from racking my brains out over all of the crap I’m going through at the moment, looking over my blog is just rubbing in how much my situation sucks right now. So I’m going to end this post with somthing I wrote this afternoon, whilst feeling guilty for not going to tafe today, again. (Which has nothing to do with what the writings about). And I think to compliment it i’m going to put a photo up of somthing completally opposite to my mood, but also really cleche. Enjoy. 
Dust bunnies waft up my nose. Sneeze; go on, you know you want to. A twinge in my spine play pillar to post against the ebbing of a forever goadlike bladder. Nothing ever changes here, silence is my dominatrix of the night, convulsing, over eyes that never fall. I can’t move, I was never shown how to and so my wit plays tricks on me as a jester would entertain his court with satire, poking at the broken ones. Let go, just let go. I crave to get inside my skin, its warmth is comfort, its sting my cruel motivator. If only to slip into my subconscious and rob the operator of his memories. The doors locked, the keys gone, nothing ever changes here. Silence takes over, bearing down upon an unwashed child’s soul. Am I still alive? I do not know. The star lit sky eventually wanes to the burst of a sun, but I still remain alone with my dominatrix standing over me, guarding with his silent eyes. I wish to kiss the sky again and think that it had never been that sweet.I miss being me.
Dust bunnies waft up my nose. Sneeze; go on, you know you want to. A twinge in my spine play pillar to post against the ebbing of a forever goadlike bladder. Nothing ever changes here, silence is my dominatrix of the night, convulsing, over eyes that never fall. I can’t move, I was never shown how to and so my wit plays tricks on me as a jester would entertain his court with satire, poking at the broken ones. Let go, just let go. I crave to get inside my skin, its warmth is comfort, its sting my cruel motivator. If only to slip into my subconscious and rob the operator of his memories. The doors locked, the keys gone, nothing ever changes here. Silence takes over, bearing down upon an unwashed child’s soul. Am I still alive? I do not know. The star lit sky eventually wanes to the burst of a sun, but I still remain alone with my dominatrix standing over me, guarding with his silent eyes. I wish to kiss the sky again and think that it had never been that sweet.I miss being me.
Chalk ManOk I know I’ve posted like 4 or 5 blogs in the last couple of days, but no ones on Msn right now and I really need to vent. I can’t bring myself to goto Tafe anymore. I just can’t. I can’t go. I should go, Dad said is potentially damaging to my future placements in other uni’s or tafes, because they don’t like quitters and my enter wasn’t that good because I never got special consideration (which I shoud have gotten). So I’m fucked. Pretty much sums it up. I can’t go because I hate it that much that I can’t even face up to setting my alarm for the next day anymore. I’m that anxious about it. Because I’ve missed all of last week (and havn’t been to any monday classes this term) I know I’m going to turn up to class unprepared and have to do more work. I hate the work I was already doing, so even more work is, well, more hating and more anxiousness. It all just really really sucks. I don’t want to talk to a carreer’s councellor. I’ve never liked talking to people I don’t know. Even the pizza guy. I really really hate my situation.
Thus I hate my life, and because I was the one who made my life this way, it’s my fault, and I hate myself. Blaming others gets you no where, so I’ve decided to blame myself instead.
Atleast I’m taking responcibility for somthing…
I just remembered what Dad said when I told him I didn’t want to do Tafe anymore and I just wanted to pull out as soon as possible. He told me “The world is unforgiving” and then went on about what I wrote befor.
I’ve realised this has been his philosophy for long time. This is what I’ve grown up being told.
This is probibly why I hate my life.
I’ve been programmed to think that I can’t ever be forgiven.
My words feel so ugly right now. It probably because of posts like this, this and this and a few other poems I’ve receved from friends. There all so good and some of them are things I wish i could of said (and this and this too) I think I’m jelous of other peoples ability to express things eloquently. Even my Photo Journal I just started up, seems ridged. I just want to feel free in my writing, to be satisfied with what I’ve said. I decided to do a photo journal of some of my art I’ve done this year and also some other images and things that relate to me, it’s just another blog pretty much.
I get so anoyed with my writing because of all the terms like “I guess” “I think” “I feel” and “In other words” that I use all the time. So the way I write is pretty much systematic and stylised. In other words BORING! I hate it.
And I love every one else.
Like the dandelion song that I posted previously. I am in love with the lyrics in that song.
I took a picture of the sky today:
I hate it and I love it. I hate it because I was standing in my backyard at the time and when I’m at home I feel trapped. Really really trapped, but also to scaired to want to leave because of being sick (and being more sick recently). And I really really want to go out all the time, but also feel safe enough and comfortable enough not to freak out (because I need to pee so much). The only problem is that Tafe, the place I’m ment to be going to at the moment stresses me out so much that I hate it. So I don’t go as often as I should and as a result, I’m trapped at home.
I hate it and I love it. I hate it because I was standing in my backyard at the time and when I’m at home I feel trapped. Really really trapped, but also to scaired to want to leave because of being sick (and being more sick recently). And I really really want to go out all the time, but also feel safe enough and comfortable enough not to freak out (because I need to pee so much). The only problem is that Tafe, the place I’m ment to be going to at the moment stresses me out so much that I hate it. So I don’t go as often as I should and as a result, I’m trapped at home.
I love the sky. Not so sound cheesy or anything, but I really do. I like it because It changes everyday and it looks so different compared to the ground below it. The ground is so full of detail and hard solid colour, the sky is so free and so far away, it’s almost like it doesnt really belong there. Most of all I love the way it changes colour. Also because I live in the suburbs surrounded by man made things, nature seems so enclosed, the sky is the only part that still seems completally free no matter where you go. (I hate powerlines, they get in the way)
All this rambeling seems like a pointless and frustration filled post about nothing much at all, which anoys me even more. Which leads me to the ways I distract myself when I’m anoyed (and hate myself) Juice, Talking to people, Food, Tv, Art (not so much anymore because of doing it all day at tafe) Msn, Showers, Crying, Cutting, Cleaning, Self maintanance like shaving and plucking eyebrows, Cooking baked goods (the only cooking I’m good at), Drinking Tea, Drinking lemon and honey tea (which i’m craving so badly right now cos my lemon tree has no lemons atm) Thinking about talking to people, Reading.
I have no idea why that needed to be listed. Maybe the Photo Journal and this blog is a way of documenting my life.
“How do you document real life
When real life is getting more
Like fiction each day?”
Mark from Rent (The Musical)
Maybe this blog and photo journal is my song;
(I think I might have posted this song befor…)
One Song, Glory - Rent
One song
Glory
One song
Before I go
Glory
One song to leave behind
Find one song
One last refrain
Glory
From the pretty boy from Maine
Who wasted opportunities
One song
He had the world at his feet
Glory
In the eyes of a young girl
A young girl
Find glory
Beyond the cheap colored lights
One song
Before the sun sets
Glory — on another empty life
Time flies — time dies
Glory — One blaze of glory
One blaze of glory — glory
Find
Glory
In a song that rings true
Truth like a blazing fire
An eternal flame
Find
One song
A song about love
Glory
From the soul of a young man
A young man
Find
The one song
Before the virus takes hold
Glory
Like a sunset
One song
To redeem this empty life
Time flies
And then - no need to endure anymore
Time dies
One song
Glory
One song
Before I go
Glory
One song to leave behind
Find one song
One last refrain
Glory
From the pretty boy from Maine
Who wasted opportunities
One song
He had the world at his feet
Glory
In the eyes of a young girl
A young girl
Find glory
Beyond the cheap colored lights
One song
Before the sun sets
Glory — on another empty life
Time flies — time dies
Glory — One blaze of glory
One blaze of glory — glory
Find
Glory
In a song that rings true
Truth like a blazing fire
An eternal flame
Find
One song
A song about love
Glory
From the soul of a young man
A young man
Find
The one song
Before the virus takes hold
Glory
Like a sunset
One song
To redeem this empty life
Time flies
And then - no need to endure anymore
Time dies
Maybe… I’ve given up. Maybe I havn’t. I’m not so sure anymore. I’m just sick of being selfish, sick of being sick and sick of having to deal with everything all the time.
I just want to get away. Far far far away. I need a distraction, or a new life, or a surprise. Somthing, just somthing to look forward to.
I’m just so fed up. Trying is just so tiring. Sleep is unfulfilling. And most of the time so is my life.
People get all weird when I talk about mothers day. I bet half of the people who know that my mother died when I was 5 are starting to read this post and go, oh this is going to be weird, but I’m so curious. Well, I’m not going to write about her, but any questions, any time, feel free to ask. Just remember, I have been living with this fact that she’s dead for 13 years and I’m well adjusted to talking to people about it all. Now to the point of this blog. I just wanted to share this song by Five Iron Frenzy.
Dandelions
In a field of yellow flowers,
Underneath the sun,
Bluest eyes that spark with lightning,
Boy with shoes undone.
He is young, so full of hope,
Dabbling in tiny dreams,
Filling up his arms with flowers
Right for giving any queen.
Running to her, gleaming bright,
While cradling his prize.
A flickering of yellow light
Within his mother’s eyes.
She holds them to her heart,
Keeping them where they’ll be safe.
Clasped within her very marrow,
Dandelions in a vase.
She sees love where
Anyone else would see weeds.
All hope is found,
Here is everything he needs.
Fathomless, your endless mercy
Wait, I could not live.
Where do I fit in this puzzle,
What good are these gifts?
Not a martyr or a saint,
Scarcely can I struggle through.
All that I have ever wanted
Was to give my best to you.
Lord, search my heart,
Create in me something clean.
Dandelions.
You see flowers in these weeds.
Gently lifting hands to heaven,
Softened by the sweetest hush.
A father sings over his children,
Loving them so very much -
More than words could warrant,
Deeper than the darkest gloom.
All that I have ever wanted
was to give my heart to you.
Maquerade
Paper faces on parade
Masquerade
Hide your face so the
World will never find you
Masquerade
Every face a different shade
Masquerade
Look around, there’s
Another mask behind you
Paper faces on parade
Masquerade
Hide your face so the
World will never find you
Masquerade
Every face a different shade
Masquerade
Look around, there’s
Another mask behind you
Leering satyrs, peering eyes
Masquerade
Run and hide, but a face will still pursue you.
I keep having nightmares, these are the nights where I don’t get past stage one sleep… Those nights are followed by days of restlesness and agrivation. Bad nights = worse days. Yesturday was the best day I’ve had in a long time, but strangely enough my sleep that night still reflected all those other nights I’ve had in the last few weeks that are filled with restless dreaming of worries that plauge me most of the daytime but x 100.
I used to think that sleep was my escape from the real world, a time to relax and get away from everything, too bad you have to be uncontious because you only get to enjoy the idea of not having to do anything and not the experience. The thing with dreams is it’s part of the experience of escaping, and my dreams, even though they were far and few between, they made me laugh. Now the dreams I have are laced with worries and regrets or hopes that turn into restless musings of an un-loved soul. My dreams, they hurt. I cannot cry in my dreams, forced to play out the restlesness of my brain, like a puppet in a show, the only difference is it’s not funny and the puppets arn’t cute. There on fire.
I feel unsettled now, because of how good yesturday was and how bad I slept last night. It might of been because I was trying to figure out, “How to deal with Tafe, and weather it deserves a second chance or if I should just cut my losses now and move on.” I was worried about quitting because I have no more patience and strength to deal with the stress anymore. I feel weak but I also wonder how much strength and perserverence I’ll have to get through my problems, compartavly to dealing with Tafe, I’m beginging to think that I’m not that strong. In other words, I’m just plain scaired of failure. But I was also thinking of how much actually sunk in by talking to Tim. My brain is begining to realise that I’m allowed to call myself a victem and I wont be rideculed for it. I can accept the fact that my life is filled with unsertenty right now, but I feel violated that my subcontious has let all the bad into my paradise, my home away from home. Now all I have left is to face up to evenything less it get the better of me first.
The Phantom Of the Opera - Down Once More
Phantom:
That fate, which
condemns me
to wallow in blood
has also
denied me
the joys of the flesh . . .
this face -
the infection
which poisons our love . . .
This face,
which earned
a mother’s fear
and loathing . . .
A mask,
my first
unfeeling scrap
of clothing . . .
Pity comes
too late -
turn around
and face your fate:
an eternity of this
before your eyes!
Dear God.
Look, I know I don’t like myself much right now and I don’t like thinking about how much that hurts you. So I’ve been distant… really distant, It must hurt you even more to think that I hardly even acknowladge that you exsist. I don’t know if it’s partially that I’m angry at you for not making this all go away, but at least I’m smart enough to know It wasn’t your fault. I feel like I have sinned and that has produced my suffering, and that all this pain and confusion is a result of me not being able to make the right decitions… but why? I just wish I knew why you want me to grow in the dicrection I’m heading and not someone elses. Why do I have to be me?
Look, I know I don’t like myself much right now and I don’t like thinking about how much that hurts you. So I’ve been distant… really distant, It must hurt you even more to think that I hardly even acknowladge that you exsist. I don’t know if it’s partially that I’m angry at you for not making this all go away, but at least I’m smart enough to know It wasn’t your fault. I feel like I have sinned and that has produced my suffering, and that all this pain and confusion is a result of me not being able to make the right decitions… but why? I just wish I knew why you want me to grow in the dicrection I’m heading and not someone elses. Why do I have to be me?
The thing is, I don’t understand how you could forgive me for everything thats happened and still love me at the same time. I can understand you not caring and loving me, but still loving me because I have, what seems to me, destroyed my own body, it just doesn’t fit. You gave me this life and I feel like I’m doing such a crap job of keeping… keeping my body whole, and in a way sacred. It’s like I’ve come into your house and smashed up your 20″plasma screen, murdered your dog and vomited all over your shag carpet. Or like I’ve thrown the gift you’ve given me back in your face. I try so hard to please you, but every choice you’ve given me seems so challanging that living up to your expectations isn’t inviting, but really really scary and weird. I don’t like feeling alienated from you because of that.
I’m finding it hard to talk to you right now because I can’t admit so much of whats actually happening to myself, let alone you. I can say it here, but in real life, when those words like rape actually form real sound, it quite frankly, just pain shocking. It just makes it seem that much more real, I know you’ve always seen it like that and for once I just wish I could see me from your eyes. Reminds me of that rent song. (I’m gonna have to paste the whole thing, cos its just a nice song)
Your Eyes
As We Said Our Goodbyes
Can’t Get Them Out Of My Mind
And I Find I Can’t Hide (From)
Your Eyes
The Ones That Took Me By Surprise
The Night You Came Into My Life
Where There’s Moonlight
I See Your Eyes
How’d I Let You Slip Away
When I’m Longing So To Hold You
Now I’d Die For One More Day
‘Cause There’s Something I Should Have Told You
Yes There’s Something I Should Have Told You
When I Looked Into Your Eyes
Why Does Distance Make Us Wise?
You Were The Song All Along
And Before The Song Dies
I Should Tell You, I Should Tell You
I Have Always Loved You
You Can See It In My Eyes
Loving you is a secret to me at the moment. As they say, the eyes are the window to the soul. I know that you can see that I still want you desperatly, even if somtimes I convince myself that you are too scary to face up too. I’m so grateful that theres people around me that make me feel that little bit more human, that remind me that my exsistance isn’t pointless. Even if that is only for awhile, even if I eventually convince myself otherwise, I’m still gratefull that I know I can rely on them to remind me that being me isn’t as bad as I think it is. I just hope, I really hope I don’t forget that. I know that stress from Tafe is going to overwhelm me soon enough. God, I’m just really scaired of everything at the moment and I don’t want to ask you for anything because I am scaired that if I ask, you might not do anything to help because it’s not the right timing. I’m just not sure how much I can trust you. I’m trusting the people you surround me with, but you… you just seem so far away.
I think there are some things that I need to admit to myself. The fact that I can’t accept these things for what they are is really starting to get to me and part of admitting these things to myself involves putting myself out there to who ever reads these things and hoping they will reply with their thoughts.
I was raped when I was 15
It has effected me so deeply that now my life has come to a standstill. I used to think that sex was a good way to distract myself from the pain of being so violated, but after awhile I realised that the sex was just as much as part of the problem as the rape was. No wonder I used so many people. No wonder I run away from commitment.
The hardest part is loving my friends for supporting me
but needing someone to be there for me all the time so I’m not alone with myself.
I’m just so afraid that they will all leave me for some reason or another.
I’m so afraid that I’ll give in to what my head is telling me, because being alive seems to hard to cope with day to day. I want to die. I really do. But for some reason I know I can’t make my friends go through what I felt when my Mum died. I have too much compasion to be suicidal I guess… I’m just so consumed by fear.
Atleast I know that it’s all going to come to an end one way or another because I am at the end of my rope and there won’t be much left of me if the next two months don’t produce some improvment, thats the one thing I’m certain about.
The only thing I’m really holding on to anymore is hanging out with people and feeling like some where underneath all this dramatic pain is the chance to be normal for awhile and not be judged because of what I’ve done. What a pathetic excuse for hope.
Any advice?
Wishing you were somehow here again
The Phantom of the Opera
You were once
my one companion . . .
you were all
that mattered . . .
You were once
a friend and father -
then my world
was shattered . . .
my one companion . . .
you were all
that mattered . . .
You were once
a friend and father -
then my world
was shattered . . .
Wishing you were
somehow here again . . .
wishing you were
somehow near . . .
Sometimes it seemed
if I just dreamed,
somehow you would
be here . . .
Wishing I could
hear your voice again . . .
knowing that I
never would . . .
Dreaming of you
won’t help me to do
all that you dreamed
I could . . .
Passing bells
and sculpted angels,
cold and monumental,
seem, for you,
the wrong companions -
you were warm and gentle . . .
Too many years
fighting back tears . . .
Why can’t the past
just die? . . .
Wishing you were
somehow here again . . .
knowing we must
say goodbye . . .
Try to forgive . . .
teach me to live . . .
give me the strength
to try . . .
No more memories,
no more silent tears . . .
No more gazing across
the wasted years . . .
Help me say
goodbye.
