void

i'm pissed off in a really hurt way. and i'm definitely giving up.

just read this

When I think on my friends,...I realize that these people who have supported me, these people who have been the only glimmers, err some of the glimmers, one of my few sources of happiness will soon become unavailable to me; or less available to me. So when I think on these things, I think that if it's going to happen regardless; whether I want it to happen or not, perhaps I should choose to do it. Or rather choose one of those courses of actions, I always feared to choose because I might loose contact with the friends I had already, seeing as how they will eventually run off in their own 'pursuit of happiness' anyway.

...found that in someone's blog. Sad. I've so often felt/thought that.

heartbreak

We've experienced heartbreak. Men (maybe boys, actually) have, for whatever reason, decided not to commit themselves to us.

No real reason to mention that except that I find it rather odd that we share this experience.

I'm also really tired of waiting. Does everyone kind of wait after losing someone? Why do I keep waiting? Why is it that guys never seem to do the waiting? I haven't met one guy that has. Well, ok, maybe one, but only sorta, ok, he doesn't count either.

Yesterday, I actually decided that I was sick of waiting, sick of thinking. It's like chasing water being drawn by the sun. It's way stronger than I am. All I feel is the painful heat that's burning me.

I think I'm heading for the shade for a bit. Until the sun isn't too hot and blinding. Maybe I'll bask in it again at dawn...gentler light, the world looking new.

closing time

I spent an incredible day with my friends.

We haven't spent a whole day together in such a long time. I feel like a chapter of our lives is closing. We've been safe, living within a 15 min. maximum radius from each other. It's not like we spent every day together, but just knowing that we're there makes it feel safe. This really has been home to me---they've been home to me---for...9 years!

But things are shifting. We HAVE grown up. Jobs, financial reasons, relationship reasons, are coaxing us to stretch the heartstrings that hold us together---like rubber bands. They're stretching. I know they'll never break. But the people on the other ends may turn around the curb, out of sight. I'm sure I'll do my share of the stretching. More and more, it's going to be harder for us to pick up the phone and decide to do something on the spur of the moment. I won't be able to just up and decide to walk over to ____'s house.

We were all sitting around my dining room table and I couldn't help thinking how nice and happy it was. And I wonder if it'll ever happen again. It probably will, but maybe it won't be the same. Maybe better? Maybe we'll all find what's best for ourselves and that future gathering will be an even happier one.

My friends are incredible. Sometimes, some of them have annoyed me, and I'm sure I've annoyed them, but in the end, we know we're there for each other.

It's a little disturbing for me to wonder whether I've become too comfortable. I don't like things shaking up my world too much. It's possible that there's good reason for this. I've done a lot of shaking things up. I'm happy to have experienced stability. But in discussing ____'s future today, I realized that maybe I've been waiting for life to throw something good my way. I used to work really hard for what I wanted, but somehow, I got into a comfortable niche, and haven't thought that maybe there's something better that awaits, if only I look out for it and reach out.

I'm scared of what'll happen to me when they go or when I go. I know that I'm scared of being alone, despite knowing that I'll make more friends. But they'll never be THESE friends. I think it's partly the fear that there is nothing better out there.

I'm really gonna miss them. There was so much freedom in all of this. I love them so much!

I HATE YOU!

I HATE YOU!! i hate you for still having the power to make me cry. for making me reminisce. how am i supposed to reach out in friendship if you are still able to make me hurt and live in limbo like this?!! you're so sad right now that it makes me really sad. it makes me want to talk to you like we used to. then you make me feel like a bitch, even though all you've done is share what's going on with you. but you make me feel like a bitch because i can't bring myself to write back. not when i don't know how. but i know that you need me. well, i'm working hard at not needing you. don't you understand that?! i'm working really hard. and you keep setting me back, though you don't know it. but if i write all this to you, it'll be like a kick in the groin when you're down, coz it sounds like you really need a true friend right now.

STOP PUTTING ME INTO SUCH A STATE OF CONFUSION!! IT'S NOT FAIR!! YOU MADE A DECISION, NOW LIVE WITH IT! I'M LIVING WITH IT, AND IT WASN'T EVEN MINE TO START.

but if i turn my back on you, i'll feel bad. because i am luckier to have all my friends and family with me. but is it my duty to help you? duty as what? a friend? it shouldn't even feel like a duty, but you're NOT my friend. not right now.

PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE! even if i don't want you to. it's just that i really need you to find your own life now, as much as this means leaving me out of it.

what does this look like to you?

I couldn't resist. I was doing dishes and I saw this. I've been pretty wholesome in this blog so far, so I figure I'm entitled every once in a while.

blech!

I sound so emotional in my entries!! People get such a one-sided view. It's really too bad that I can't go into detail about the fun stuff I do because I don't want people to be able to connect this blog to me. I will say, however, that I went to this AWESOME little club last night. Best live music I've heard in a while and incredible atmosphere. Most times, when I walk into a new place, I don't feel like I fit in, but there, it instantly felt comfortable...super chill.

Anyway, I was reading past entries and I thought that I sound so boring, talking about the same stuff all the time!! I think about a lot of that stuff because I'm really dealing with them. I actually thought, "God, get a life already. Stop moping! I can't stand it anymore!" I sound like some pretentious, depressed artist. You know the type...[in a rough, smoke- and drink-affected voice]'I'm so depressed, man. It hurts...so I turn pain into inspiration, or just allow myself to feeeeel'. Yikes! I sicken myself.

This is why I hate what I write. After a while I can't stand it. There are very few things that I have written that don't make me flinch.

Anyhoo...HAPPY VICTORIA DAY LONG WEEKEND!!

transient

I find it terribly hard to comprehend the reality that objects, things that don't make a difference in this world, last beyond the people that create them; exist years after what gave them meaning is only a memory, if that. There's no life there. But we give them life through the memories and emotions imposed on them. Why do we even have to do that? What makes it so hard for humans to just let go. Because we are our memories. (I recall reading some philosopher that said that, don't remember who.) Without them, who are we? Who can prove that we existed? But they're just memories. They make us nostalgic and in a lot of cases hold us back and we have to tire ourselves fighting to rise above it. Even happy memories tend to make us wish we could relive the past again, even if we're happy with things now. I use 'we' a lot. I really mean "I". But I know lots of people who feel that way.

carved on wood
x + y
up in the heights
creaky tower overlooking green
held up against time and elements
for all to see

but it's no longer true
so many lies etched
outliving truth

How can mere objects last longer than real, supposedly true feelings? Longer than the real, meaningful, intertwining of two lives? People who walk, think, feel, make a difference, and who are so important don't last that long. It's not fair. Tonight, I can't get over how unjust that is. I can count on my sofa to last longer than anything people-related. And I want to hang on to people and not lose touch. And I feel like I'm missing out if I can't be with one friend or another.

But when you hang on to a memento, there's really nothing there anymore. My mind places meaning and memory...projects it onto a lifeless souvenir. That doesn't mean anything. It's really not fair.

reinventing

Of late, I've been feeling like I don't really know how I'm supposed to present myself. I'm noticing that various aspects of who I am are coming out. I'm realizing that my interests are vast. I don't think I have time to pursue all of them to the extent I want. Do you ever get the feeling of stepping out of yourself and looking at yourself through the way others must see you? That's been happening more frequently to me. Sometimes it gets me down somewhat and I grow quiet.

I thought that at this age, I should know who I am. For a while, I was really secure in my knowledge of that. I still know what I value most, but sometimes I don't think I fit into myself quite the way I would like. The suit makes me a little awkward.

Maybe people always reinvent themselves, particularly when life-changing events happen. I feel anxious at times, because I feel like I should be at a particular point in self-determination by this time. But I hazard to guess that there are many people, much older than I, who, for whatever reason, don't quite know who they are anymore.

Maybe I have to settle into not fully knowing who I am exactly.

cinema paradiso

i want it magical, with sparks. rainy kisses and laughable disasters. waiting for the impossible with frustrated patience. there has to be magic and wonder and a world that opens up. if there isn't, then i don't want it.

severed

I don't remember whether we said "I love you" the last time. Going through motions of familiarity, pretending that the divide was not there. Reminiscing not through memory but through touch, the memory not of the mind, but of skin and taste, gingerly tracing the familiar thread broken up by time. Holding on and saying goodbye at the same time. But I couldn't deny the divide---I felt it all the way, through to the last hand-hold, the last kiss, the last look back (this time, you actually looked back for the first time), the wistful smile and the final wave. We walked away from each other and we'll choose not to walk back. I was numb, aware that there was a world around me, but it couldn't touch me then. I came up and ate the last bit of the breakfast we shared and was surprised at my ability to eat without tasting. It was something to do. I didn't cry, you know. I was relieved, more than anything, that at last I could be done with it and eventually stop hurting.

But once in a while, I remember the last night I held you. I don't think you held me in quite the same way. I shook with knowledgeable sobs, knowing that this could be the last, was quite certain it would be the last time we would be together with any semblance of mutual, reciprocal, vibration. But I know it wasn't enough to move you, not the way it moved me. "The last time" happened before we even knew it. The end was a memory reel, fading out and fading into an extension of the end that I hope lives up to its promise of a complex, rich, and satisfying beginning.

so...friends?

Can you really be friends after breaking up?

It's an incredibly strange place to be. Wanting him not to be sad, wanting to offer help, even simply in the form of solidarity of experience, but not being able to. We made the decision before speaking of it, and didn't fight it. For me, it was because I was tired of it and knew it wasn't good for me. We need to deal with this separately, but how do you tell someone you care about that you can't help, because you're going through the very same thing?

I want to tell him he has no idea how hard it's been. Tell him what I'm going through, ask him stuff to get 'the guy's opinion'. But I can't do that. I'd be emotionally depending on him, and making him my friend, which isn't really what he is.

I've come so far, and yet I hear from him, and something implodes in my chest, making me think that I'm not ready at all. But maybe you're never really ready until someone comes along that makes you want to be ready. Maybe 'ready' just means that you're open to someone coming in even if memories still make you tear up. Maybe it's acknowledging that you're still hurt, but you're willing to put that aside because someone very special may come soon. Maybe being ready just means that you allow yourself to feel all the things that come along with a break-up, the good and the bad, and say, "This happened. It still stings on occasion, but I'm not going to hide it because it's part of who I am now." Maybe it's just presenting yourself to someone new, asking him (or her, as the case may be) to see all of you, being willing to have them to get to know the new you, and giving them the opportunity to love you as such because you're ready to do the same.

summer job

At work with not much to do. I could finish all the more not-even-so-pressing stuff in a half hour, I bet. Not too bad. I'm getting paid well. Still, it's boring and not very rewarding. Perfect for a summer job, actually.

It's the summer and last night, while making dinner, I started to get stressed out, like I don't have enough summer time to do all the fun things I want to do. You know it's bad when you can't even relax about relaxing.

Then, there's the welling up in my chest. What does it feel like...like heated air pushing through an invisible, thin-skinned balloon, with microscopic holes all over. The air pressure is just enough to keep the balloon in shape, but it's hard to say how far the air reaches. Where's it going? Who knows. Again, there's this whole feeling of wanting to contain it. I need things to sit neatly in perfectly-defined geometric figures. Like those shapes I could fit into this ball, as a kid---a 'match the shape' toy. Ain't that just the trouble though...there's no shape. And even if there were, it sure don't fit nuthin'.

Ok, back to work, the big guy coming back soon, not that he'd even care. I once spent at least an hour on a long distance call from a friend (she paid). I apologized and he said, "Don't apologize to me." Ok, then, I won't.

restless in a good way

It's amazing how used I am to running around, thinking of the next step before I finish the first. I actually end up forgetting I was mid-step, then I start another, and realize I have to go back and finish the first. No wonder I stumble.

Anyway, I have a whole day of freedom ahead of me. I will take my camera for a walk in the gorgeous weather, though it's not altogether warm. I'm hoping to catch young leaves, blossoms, textures. But I find myself thinking the way I do when I'm stressed: ok, gotta leave by____, do I wanna go there?, what would I catch?, but the sun may not be in the right spot, should I go up there?, I should go there first coz the blossoms won't last forever, yeah, I'll go there. Get off the net!! Get off your ass or you won't catch a thing!!

thread

(I just had this strange thought that this thread is thin and brown, and, if taut, can cause a cut if a finger were run across it. I picture this thread changing into a sunflower yellow, a cottony texture, slipping through this blog whenever I speak of something happier, its plush fibres momentarily thinned as it emerges through the needle-made point. It's occasionally scarlet, when I write more passionately and sensually. It is silken then, and lasciviously slides through. Thick, black thread is stubbornly resistant. Then, casting off restraint, it violently penetrates the fabric with anger.)

still restless

I'm going through this strange, though not novel, experience. I keep wanting to wade through the world wide web, but I don't even know what I'm looking for specifically. It's partly a form of procrastination, I know, but I feel like it's a search for answers, stimulation, or inspiration. Not that I really expect to find inspiration on the web, but maybe someone will say something that inspires me. I think I should just walk outside. Yeah, maybe it's too much of being in this room.

On a grander scale, I think I'm searching for what I'm supposed to become. I feel like I'm searching for clues as to what I really want to accomplish in life. So clichéd! I'm trying to grasp at some unknown, intangible entity that will somehow more clearly define the outlines of the blurred visions I have of what the future holds in store. When I turn my mind's eye toward this vision, I literally see colors blurring into colors in undefined contours. I think that's why I feel a bit like a caged dog chasing its tail in a pet store cage. I recall the freedom of having a definite plan (I will go to highschool, university, get a summer job, etc.), but I can no longer find a blueprint for the upcoming one. I want to somehow contain the space that's opening up. The extra pressure comes from knowing I can do so much with the time that's drawing nearer and nearer. I want to make the right decision. More and more, I'm looking towards creating a full life for me as an individual---I mean, alone. No, this isn't a trace of the common rough, self-deprecating thread that runs through this blog. I really want to be able to stand alone amidst the people I love.

What to do....what to do....

restless

Anyone got any concentration tips? I've got work to do. Not schoolwork anymore, but work nonetheless. Bah! I need time to think about all kinds of things, a long-term job, career-related stuff, money, life. I wish I didn't have all this other stuff to work on. Also, I wanna walk around, enjoy the sun. BAH! I'm indoors!! [seething]. Almost there, almost there...

will talking about this turn people off?

Some people don't like to hear religious talk, but there's gonna be some to follow. Oh well, whatever.

I've just returned from church and the priest was talking about the image of Jesus as the Shepherd. He knows his sheep and his sheep know his voice.

God knows me through and through and this thought really made me want to cry today. It reminded me that I don't need to be specific, that I need not be scared, that everything that's happening has a reason behind it, even if I don't grasp it. I don't think I could be called incredibly religious, though I work at having faith all the time. And I don't find it easy. I suppose there's something a little sad about God being the only one who knows me through and through, but it honestly helps. I think we all have parts of ourselves that we don't share with anyone else and it's comforting to know that there's something out there (God to me, something spiritual to others, whatever it may be) that I am who I am with.

Religion as a comfort really bothers me. Like it's what people turn to in time of need and it serves no other purpose. It's not true for me. It serves as a source of constant challenge and a backdrop against which I throw all kinds of difficult questions and "sins". There are so many things that the Church believes in that I do not. I am fully aware that humans are behind it, and though they are supposed to be blessed by God, and therefore enlightened, I'm not naive. I know that they, too, are capable of screwing up and being mean and hurtful. I've had one-on-one experience with that. As a result, while I expect a lot from the religious, I am not surprised by the hypocrisy of some (or many?).

I am also incredibly embarrassed by those who would call themselves Christian, and yet, look down on those who aren't. Let's face it, many are born into a religion, or into none at all. They are not to be faulted. I can't even call it a fault. I know so many atheists and agnostics who are so much more accepting, open-minded, generous, thoughtful, genuine, etc., than some Christians I know. I am no better than they are. If God is the Judge of all, and this is what Christians are called to believe, then none of us should judge others, but rather try to understand all. I don't recall God saying that we should force people to believe, though, leading by example and helping people see God is desired. Personally, I don't care what people do as long as they do what they believe to be right by themselves and by others.

Back to the shepherd image...
The priest also mentioned the shepherd who breaks the legs of the lamb who had gone too far astray, or who repeatedly went astray so that he could pick it up and carry it. Such a horrid image! What cruel person would ever do that? But then I thought that that's certainly how I feel now. I feel terribly broken and traumatized (ok, not to the point of psychosis) by the experience of pain. I don't want to hurt again. But maybe I've been broken because I need time out from the world, from the way my life was going. Maybe I need to rediscover who I am and determine my own path. Maybe others in my life need time to themselves too in order to appreciate to a greater extent themselves, and how their lives merge with others.

There was a time when my life was going so smoothly. It was magical. A friend called it "the charmed life". She still believes this is true. I was always thankful for everything, but there was a part of me that doubted how long it would last. I couldn't believe that good things could continually happen to me and that, certainly, bad was sure to follow. The inevitability of this scared me. At times I think this was my mistake, and such a great loss of faith. Perhaps I am now being challenged to see the good signs in my life. To be completely grateful by not thinking that it will go away; to stop denying that God is sending me answers to my prayers (and believe me, I continually see direct answers, but the skeptic in me refuses to accept it as such).

Perhaps the overall lesson is not to second-guess, not to question the good and think, 'why me?', unless it is to think that I am lucky and I should try to help other people, and not to think negatively.

Now, this is not to say that I'm automatically not going to question, that I'm going to be blinded by faith. But I hope that it gives me strength and that I take it as the challenge that it's supposed to be. And also to trust that things will work out for the best. Because if I think otherwise, then there really isn't a point to anything.

Religion or no religion, I have to think that I can create my own good, that there is a reason for everything, but the reason need not be self-serving. The outcome need not be self-serving either. It's not all about me.

rain and car-swept sighs

I would rather know either way. I would like to know now, all the answers. I want to give up or move forward. I hate this place more tonight than usual. I bash my fist throught the air because that's all I've got---nothing, space. Nothing to be angry at, nothing to care about, nothing concrete to think of or hang onto. So I throw my fists in rage at it and glare at nothing. You can't see anything, you fucking don't even care. I've been forgotten. Go figure. This just might be my style. I'm sick of it. Fuck it all. It's all so useless. None of it really matters, I can almost see how it'll end. And even in this strange rage, I hope that I'm wrong. I want to back off from it all, but I'm afraid that inaction will cause the bad outcome to be my fault. So what am I supposed to do exactly? Will my fate or have fate will my life? All I know is, I'm sick of it all right now. Sick of it all and no one sees.