I've had a lot of happy blogs recently. This is because I am more aware of the anger within me than ever, as I can't get past it. And it's ripping my heart up slowly but surely, but I'm still going to concentrate on the love in my life, because nothing constructive comes from dwelling on the shitty feelings we get.
I've also started to wonder exactly who reads this blog. I've never made it private because I'm not secretive about the things I write here: most of the things I write are things I have tried but failed to say to people in the past anyway.
I don't want to dwell. Now is the time to look forward, and to move forward. I think it's a shame to have to say goodbye all the time, but I think I'm finally okay with it. I have accepted that I need to leave. This city has been beautiful, understanding and a total haven for me, but it's also full of my demons, and I'm now weaponless, bleeding and falling, so I can't possibly fight back: my only choice is to run away.
I think I'm stronger now than I used to be. I think I can deal with some weird shit with a least a smidgen of dignity. I also think I've figured out who I am, who my true friends are, and what I want from life.
I hope that other people can find these things too. I know that I don't seem genuine sometimes, but at the end of May, the one thing I'll hope for, for all of my 'acquaintances', is that their lives are richer from this experience we've shared.
And now, I feel exhausted.
Tuesday 29 March 2011
Thursday 24 March 2011
All this love is making me nauseated
I have been feeling so much love recently, and I want to spread it. I want people to know how much I care, but in light of the next two days, I thought I'd do it now, on here, rather than when drunk or when receiving a gift, because although they wouldn't be, I might come off as fake or un-genuine.
First off, to the one who holds my hand at night, and squeezes me oh so tight, and makes me feel warm in my insides. You already know this, but I love you so much.
And to the ones I never see: to the girl who would sing in my car in the early hours of the morning; to the boy who sings through my computer screen; to the first Asian love who racially abuses me through my computer screen, and the second Asian one who's face is like wall-paper in my bedroom; to the slightly German one, to the slightly Irish one, to the really tall one in Paris and to the really small one in Verona; to the one whom I married and to the one whom we always said we'd get married, but realised quite quickly how wrong that would be: I love you. Not seeing you as often as we used to makes me appreciate the times we've had, I just hope we can continue to have them.
Now to the ones whom I don't say it enough, or ever:
To the one who's helped me so much these last three years, and fills my life with hope and food.
To the one who spoke to me on my very first day, said my favourite film, and has an unhealthy obsession with cake.
To the one who literally carried me home, who's like a big brother to me with his wisdom, his variety of names for me, and his condescension.
To the one who pulls some of the best faces, can't handle his drink and is always making someone laugh, but never for the right reason.
To the one who wears his passion on his sleeves, whether it's music, his Mediterranean routes or girls.
To the one who made up for being a year late by being so open, honest and fun to be around.
To the one's who turned me from a lump of plasticine into this girl; no matter how far you go around the world, you three are always on my mind.
I love you all.
First off, to the one who holds my hand at night, and squeezes me oh so tight, and makes me feel warm in my insides. You already know this, but I love you so much.
And to the ones I never see: to the girl who would sing in my car in the early hours of the morning; to the boy who sings through my computer screen; to the first Asian love who racially abuses me through my computer screen, and the second Asian one who's face is like wall-paper in my bedroom; to the slightly German one, to the slightly Irish one, to the really tall one in Paris and to the really small one in Verona; to the one whom I married and to the one whom we always said we'd get married, but realised quite quickly how wrong that would be: I love you. Not seeing you as often as we used to makes me appreciate the times we've had, I just hope we can continue to have them.
Now to the ones whom I don't say it enough, or ever:
To the one who's helped me so much these last three years, and fills my life with hope and food.
To the one who spoke to me on my very first day, said my favourite film, and has an unhealthy obsession with cake.
To the one who literally carried me home, who's like a big brother to me with his wisdom, his variety of names for me, and his condescension.
To the one who pulls some of the best faces, can't handle his drink and is always making someone laugh, but never for the right reason.
To the one who wears his passion on his sleeves, whether it's music, his Mediterranean routes or girls.
To the one who made up for being a year late by being so open, honest and fun to be around.
To the one's who turned me from a lump of plasticine into this girl; no matter how far you go around the world, you three are always on my mind.
I love you all.
Sunday 13 March 2011
Simon says...
If you could have one ultimate power, what would it be?I think mine would be to do with the truth. I hate knowing that someone is lying to you, but not knowing why, or what it is they are covering up. That would be a useful power. I would however end up which a lot more rage, as I'm sure most people lie by accident, or in a non-spiteful way most of the time. It's the other twat-bags, who lie purposefully, that I'd do it for.
I have said for a very long time that love is not something you ever stop doing. If you love someone (as a friend, or as more, whichever), it won't ever go away. Which is why it's so easy to 'hate' someone who used to be a friend. Physics teaches us that energy can never be destroyed; kinetic energy can be transferred into nuclear energy etc, but none is ever lost completely. I think the same principle applies for love. That emotion will never cease. You can switch it with anger, with disappointment, with hate, with lust, with jealousy... with anything, but you can never just turn off those emotions. In that sense, I am still in love with a lot of people. But not being someone's other half limits how this energy can be used, so I try help, sometimes to my own demise, and I try to encourage, support, lend a hand etc whenever I can. But sometimes, when you have to make a snap decision, between two people, neither of whom realise you're making the decision, a lot boils down to love.
I realized last night that I have very little love left for some of my friends. I think, unlike the previous metaphor, that this is due to abuse. If you love someone, and they never reciprocate those feelings, your emotions get a bit jolted. Worse still, if you love someone that used to love you, but now just takes you for advantage, uses your generosity and good-will against you, and ultimately makes you feel like the gross fly that landed on a pile of dog shit and is now stuck on the sole of someone's shoe, wedged between dog shit and the last victim who got stood on - only when all this happens, does love deteriorate. Like the oil, it's just being sucked dry. One day, they'll be so little left that they will finally realize just what they've done. They'll shoot themselves in the foot because there is no substitute for oil. This planet is so unprepared for the day we run out of oil.
So, long story short, I am oil, I'm not going to be around forever, so while I am here, the best thing you could do for me is tell the truth.
Either that or someone could go jigsaw on their ass; if she survives, she might actually learn something.
Wednesday 2 March 2011
Listening to the mechanics of the brain
A few days ago I had a dream involving some people I rarely see anymore. One of them was the girl who recently had a baby: except in my dream, she was young again. I was younger too, and we were at my old primary school. Weirdly, I always (probably 80%) have dreams set in my high school, but this one wasn't. And we were running from something - I can't remember the details, but I know it was an adventure. And we found Jack, the guy who lives in the next house down from ours (too far away to be a next-door-neighbour though) and we all continued on this mission.
It got me thinking about the way people grow. I might never have a childish adventure with Louise again, and considering the 14 years we spent as best friends, and the 7 years we've spent since then as sort of family, I can't accept that she's grown up. And I don't know Jack anymore, at all, but from his facebook I can deduce that he can't spell, therefore never got over his disability from primary school, and he seems like a bit of a chav. But in my head, and particularly in my dreams, he's the exact same as when we were 11. I have no idea how much I've changed - I can't even imagine what people from my primary school thought of me then, let alone now - but change, and the years of distance that seem to press on my mind sometimes, really get me thinking about time.
If we had no clocks, and no diaries or calenders or anything, we would have a much simpler, slower and more peaceful world. Who the hell invented a visualisation of time?
I hope I don't get old too quickly. I hope life goes at the exact pace that I want it too. I hope, above all other things, that I am growing up, maturing and getting over the things that 'haunt' my past. Watching Smallville, with all it's clever lines by Jonathon, Lex and Lionel - some of them mean more than just 'go be a hero, Clark'. Some of the things they say - the one in mind is about the past - Clark says "you can't move forward if you're so fixated on the past" but later on, Lex says "the stars in the sky that we see may have burned out thousands of years ago, but because light moves slowly, we're only seeing their light now. The past defines the future, and is always shaping the lives around us" (or something like that).
So my thoughts crumple into a few basic questions: do we only grow because of the passing of time? Without the knowledge of time, we'd never feel the urgency to be more than what we already are. And does the past define us, and shape us, or is it there to build upon, and learn from: should we welcome the past, as part of being our being, no matter how bad, or should we shun the past, and try to grow into greater beings without reflection of our earlier selves?
It got me thinking about the way people grow. I might never have a childish adventure with Louise again, and considering the 14 years we spent as best friends, and the 7 years we've spent since then as sort of family, I can't accept that she's grown up. And I don't know Jack anymore, at all, but from his facebook I can deduce that he can't spell, therefore never got over his disability from primary school, and he seems like a bit of a chav. But in my head, and particularly in my dreams, he's the exact same as when we were 11. I have no idea how much I've changed - I can't even imagine what people from my primary school thought of me then, let alone now - but change, and the years of distance that seem to press on my mind sometimes, really get me thinking about time.
If we had no clocks, and no diaries or calenders or anything, we would have a much simpler, slower and more peaceful world. Who the hell invented a visualisation of time?
I hope I don't get old too quickly. I hope life goes at the exact pace that I want it too. I hope, above all other things, that I am growing up, maturing and getting over the things that 'haunt' my past. Watching Smallville, with all it's clever lines by Jonathon, Lex and Lionel - some of them mean more than just 'go be a hero, Clark'. Some of the things they say - the one in mind is about the past - Clark says "you can't move forward if you're so fixated on the past" but later on, Lex says "the stars in the sky that we see may have burned out thousands of years ago, but because light moves slowly, we're only seeing their light now. The past defines the future, and is always shaping the lives around us" (or something like that).
So my thoughts crumple into a few basic questions: do we only grow because of the passing of time? Without the knowledge of time, we'd never feel the urgency to be more than what we already are. And does the past define us, and shape us, or is it there to build upon, and learn from: should we welcome the past, as part of being our being, no matter how bad, or should we shun the past, and try to grow into greater beings without reflection of our earlier selves?
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