Relapse

Everybody has their weaknesses. Everybody has their issues. I suppose what they don't realize when they show those scare tactic videos is that the people they're trying to scare aren't afraid. Everyone else in the room is terrified. I'm sitting here watching this video saying, "I wish I had that much discipline. I wish I could manage that." For the first time I understood the rationale of control. I don't have that much control. I don't have that much discipline. I'm a fraidy cat. I see those tendancies, I see those habits. I see them in them, and mirrored in myself. And I hate that I'm not strong enough for that. Some might say that it's a blessing, that it's better this way. I'm not so sure. I'm stubborn as anything. I have a lot of willpower, but not quite that much. I'm not that strong.

And then there's emotional pain. A strange, totally unexpected twinge of heartache, so severe that it felt physical. Totally unexpected, but entirely familiar. It was almost a safe kind of pain. Safe, but unwelcome. Safe only in its familiarity. Who would have thought that a dream could have so much power? I should have, for the love of God and everybody, but this took me by surprise. But I don't know whether it was a dream or a nightmare.

Dreaming the day away,
Daydream Believer

Remember

Do not stand at my grave and weep;

I am not there.

I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn's rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there.

I did not die.

Author Unknown

On another note entirely, I have a friend who is celebrating his birthday today, and I feel rather bad for him, since people tend to be sombre and reserved, so here's a little happy birthday for him.

Daydream Believer

Sleep Tight

Corporal and Rad, what the hell am I going to do? I don't know, but I know that Ginger is right. Those butterflies don't happen all that often, so I'm damn well going to enjoy them. No matter where this goes, no matter how it ends. Goodness knows its kind of good the let someone else make decisions and do the work for awhile. And I'm going to get all this shit done. Tomorrow I get to pretend to kick the crap out of someone. In the meantime, the words are flowing like cold corn syrup, but that's still better than before, so I'm going to try to heat stuff up.

Ah, music. I really like Eric Clapton, and I didn't even know it. Yay reminiscing. If only I knew then what I know now, eh? I went to almost every one of my middle school dances, but was always too shy to dance. Oh well, hindsight. Dancing is more fun when you don't have chaperones checking to make sure you're not dancing too close anyways.

Maybe the problem is trying to separate heart, head, and gut. You need all three to get anywhere, really. Maybe we should just relax, stop trying to put the boundaries around each, and let them handle things for a while. Your subconscious and unconscious are there for a reason, let them do their job.

I said a lot of things out loud today that I've been thinking for awhile. Oh well. Had to come out in the open sometime, and I kinda felt like I was going to explode. So now I get to sit on this stuff for three days until everyone's in the same place geographically, so that I can get to the same place non-geographically.

Don't let the bedbugs bite.
Daydream Believer

La Bohème

Love is an angel disguised as lust,
Here in our bed until the morning comes.

Apparently critical volume for getting Daydream Believer most of the way out of her shell is 6 shots of rye in half an hour. Apparently barely post adolescent boys are more or less the same everywhere, which I guess doesn't surprise me. Interesting, I don't quite know how to feel just now. Even though I'm a lot smaller than them, and wasn't quite all there co-ordination wise, I still felt like I was in control. Of my actions, of my words, even of their actions. At the same time, would I have said and done the things I said and did 6 shots earlier? I don't know for sure, but my money's on no. Who am I kidding, I live inside a massive shell... or perhaps a tiny glass box. You can see me in there, but I'm still a step removed. Last night, I removed the obstacles. It was liberating, it was fun, and I wasn't scared. But I can't help but wonder if the people I encountered would appreciate me in all my shell-less glory when they're sober. People, myself included, are a lot more accepting when they're drunk. I'm not going to lie, I'm terrified, but damn it, I'm going to get out of this shell. I had a taste of a new kind of freedom, and I liked it too much to let it slip away so easily.

Looks like that's the "foreign ass-grab" skirt. Funny thing was, I wasn't scared, hurt, disappointed, disgusted, or annoyed. Nobody was measuring my reaction either. I wonder if those two things are connected.

All of a sudden, I feel powerful, in control. Stop the presses, I think I've got feminine wiles after all. Shame about the directionality though. I think maybe, things could have happened yesterday, I could have made things happen yesterday. It's an interesting feeling. Sometimes it's alright to be silly. And yes, Ginger, you were right about the good Corporal and probably about Rad as well. As you said, fuck him. Ok, bad choice of words, but I'm sure the idea gets across. If I can stick to that idea, well, hopefully good things will happen. Bloody hell, as soon as I twist my brain around, things get fucked up again. Could be worse though.

Daydream Believer