Buttercup

I don't know why it takes so much less effort to break me down than it does to build me up. One comment, probably a joke, about my company making him sick, and all of a sudden it doesn't seem like we can get along after all. Maybe he should have thought of that before... well, before. Sooner or later I'm likely to actually hit him. I've already started the verbal assault. I've already taken one low blow. I doubt I'll ever land the one that could drop him to the floor. The one that's a little kamikaze, because it would drop me too. Let everyone know what I'm capable of.

Why is it that while I have no problem logically dealing with the way people are on a large scale, once you get to the small scale, the microhumanity, I have a seemingly endless supply of good will and benefit of the doubt. I know that people aren't the way I wish they were, I know communism or anarchy won't work because people mostly suck. So why is it that I can still with complete confidence pin huge amounts of emotional capital on people being the way I wish they could be on the small scale? Possible theories include being an overly optimistic nut, being too stupid for my own good, not being able to learn my lesson, or some combination of the previous possibilities.

Dreaming of amazing wonderful people.
Daydream Believer

Chomp the Spy

I didn't mean to read it, honest. But there they were, the words from the deep dark place, laid out in blue ink on paper. It gave me a good shake, enough to make my lips come loose and confess my fears. Sooner or later the smoke cleared. Cleverer and callous, once everything seemed sorted suddenly it all went sordid didn't you hear?
I would be the worst of liars if I said I wasn't concerned. I am. But for a change I'm not sure why. As usual, I don't know what I want. There's some spite there that I'm not quite sure what I want to do about. It would be nice to get a couple of choice words in, but now that things are heading in a square-one-wardly direction, I'm not sure I mean them anymore. If I ever meant them in the first place. Now that chomp the spy is cleared out, who knows what's next. I can't believe it was a coincidence, the timing was just too clean-cut. But there could be a number of reasons for that. Most of them having to do with power. That moment of what if isn't this interesting testing the water waiting wishing wondering daring challenge me again. Another game. Do I want to play? Are the takes going to be the same as last time? If it's just another instant replay, I'll pass. But if we are a little older and wiser, smarter and tougher, and more mature to boot, this could just be a very pleasant game. There's precedent.
Once burned...
Daydream Believer

What Goes Around...

Okay, so I have to get my jollies somehow. I'm only slightly panicked about the whole performance to-do, the fact that we're supposed to pull a show of this level out of thin air in a matter of days while not neglecting our other responsibilities, although, let's face it, we have anyhow.
I'm trying not to be cynical, trying to remind myself that square one is just where I can to be. But at the same time, I can't help it. When someone's only civil to you when they've got one thing on their mind, and after a stretch of extreme unpleasantry returns to civility within 24 hours of a breakup, the alarm bells start to ring.
But I can still laugh. My laughter has taken a slightly psychotic turn of late, mostly because it stops me from crying. And after the fifth 12 or 14 hour day, you start to find the strangest things funny. Apparently I'm an honorary man. I'm taking it as a compliment. I wonder if this gives me license to belch? No one can say there weren't warning signs. Pneumonia. No one can say I'm the crazy one now. Well, except me, but that's because I'm the only one inside my head. I'm the only one who knows just how crazy I might be. This time, I'm the one in control. I'm learning to speak up, I'm learning to stand up and be counted. Practice makes perfect. Raising my voice, raising my fists.
I'm full of pipe dreams. Ideas that will never work in practice. But they're nice to think about.
Keep Dreaming.
Daydream Believer

Out Of Step While They All Get In Line

She's baaaaaaack. Ladies and gentlemen this is how it starts. A little eyeliner, some music from a byegone age, and I'm back in the darkest moments of my life. It's in the past for a reason. It's easier to be angry than hurt. It's easy to scream along with the music and hide behind thick makeup and a baleful stare. I'm going nowhere fast that's what they say. But it's been an awfully long time since someone said that about me. There's a little bit more breadth here now, more than just the thinly veiled pain disguised as anger. I'm so much stronger now than I was. Then, I was exactly as strong as I had to be. Now, the blows are a little heavier now. Pain is fleeting, blows are glancing, when you're dancing through life. I might take that advice, if I could, if I knew how. Hopefully tomorrow's train will stay on the rails, even if I've been a little derailed lately. She knew what you were thinking before you thought it... and that's a good thing? When you do it to me, it leaves me feeling stupid. You leave me feeling stupid a lot. You bastard. It's the wrongs that make the words come to life. It's always cloudy except for when you look into the past. Sometimes even then. Why? Why? Why? According to the rule of three, this is where the resolution happens. Bullshit. Get me out of my mind. Don't let me get me. Come fly with me, let's go real high. Pull me down hard. Don't push me. Don't fuck with me. Drowning's an awful way to go. If it's not worth it, why bother? If it's worth doing, there's some meaning in it. Life goes on long after the thrill of living is gone, or does it? You say it's wrong but it's right for me. Is it? Am I doing the right thing here? Shouldn't I know? And the reason that she loved him is the reason I loved him too. Put out the fire and don't look past my shoulder. Nothing's as real as our old reckless ways. Was I ever reckless? Did I ever really want to be? Definitely wanted to be. Did it ever happen? The things I thought I'd do. And you know none of them would ever have the strength. Keeping up. Keep on keeping on. If it doesn't hurt it's not worth doing. Admit. Admission. Let someone in. Letting someone in. Find out games you don't wanna play. Just another regret. No regrets. Wasn't that what this was supposed to be about? Who has to know? Those thoughts I can't deny. No more Nile. What a pretty poison, what a lovely lie. Like a hole in the head, I know that I'll soon be better off. Come on, roll me over Romeo. Is this as good as it gets? What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Like a needle in a haystack. Listen to your lies. Put on your pretty lies. I feel like a monster. Me myself and I. Let's hash it out. Set her free. A strange duet, your power can go fuck itself. I can handle it. Brave like soldiers. A woman who acts like a man. I couldn't tell you but I'm telling you now. Call on me. Stand by me. Twenty fucking five to one, my gambling days are done. Looks like the holy ghost is gone. I'll wait till you fall from grace. It's not like you to say sorry. But then again I don't really know. Are we having fun yet? Fun, that's what this was supposed to be. I dreamed that I knew the secret code. Your face betrays you. That'll be the day that I die. This'll be the day that I die. Drinking whiskey and rye. Back when we mattered. Fueling up on whiskey. I wonder if I'll ever change my ways. Or if I need to. I'm not giving up. I'm not slacking off or backing out or cracking up. Or backing down. I won't back down. This is how I'm supposed to be. Tell me, who should I be? You know you're not the only one. All our lives, we've been waiting. Once a good girl goes bad. Is she ever coming back? She's never coming home. They won't make it home and they really don't care. You better go, you know the fire's out anyway. Another dance another way another chance, another day. I don't know what I've done, or if I like what I've become. I'm my own worst enemy. You can't hurt me, you don't need to. I do it well enough myself. All I know is that I should. So what if it's Californication. I am just as torn inside. It's true, we're all a little insane, but it's so clear now that I'm unchained. I thought by now you'd realize, honey you can't hide your lyin eyes. My morals got me on my knees, I'm begging please. I'm under your spell. Mercy. What'll you do when you get lonely? You been running and hiding much too long. I was only having fun, wasn't hurting anyone. Except myself, but that's nothing new. So you say that only proves that I'm insane. Don't try to save me. Stop me. Keep me here. That's great, it starts with an earthquake. It's my responsibility, you owe nothing to me. You promised me nothing. It was just my imagination running away with me. I took your words and I believed. Out, damn spot. I'm trying to wash it away, but it's all over me in marker. I am so high I can hear heaven, but heaven don't hear me. You could have offered me some dignity. Choose the devil you know or the devil you don't, their horns are the same colour. This truth is stranger than fiction. Don't file me under categories, you're deceived. Genius is in the mistakes. Preaching the gospel according to Johnnie Walker Red. I tell myself I'm gonna be alright, but it's still not clear. What follows. Too young to die and too old to believe in promises. Maybe not too old. Trust me, trust you. How can I trust you, I know you. Now I know what you are. What you do. What you do to me. I know by the look that I see in your eye. Why does this happen to me? Hard to believe that it's not over tonight. Who is the monster and who is the man? I'm open, you're closed. You bleed just to know you're alive. Shouldn't let you conquer me completely. Don't want to forget how it feels without. You can't talk to a man when he don't want to understand. I want to understand and you won't let me. You don't want me, which is more than your right, but couldn't you have figured that out a little earlier? This world if you let it will drive you into the ground. They'll hurt you and desert you, and take your soul if you let them. Break me. Take me over. I'm all shook up. Is it worth the pain with no one to blame. I'm waking up to say I tried instead of waking up to another TV guide. The shit I hear you say just blows my mind. Never seen a sky so blue. Lost like I could not be found. I must be out of my head. I hate everything about you, most of all what you make me feel. Are you aware of what you make me feel? I need to break free from your lies, you're so self-satisfied. If I could make you believe. I'm not kind if you betray me. Gonna be okay. Got to be a joker he just do what he please. We all wanna change the world. I thought I chose the surest road, but that road led me here. You'll never know the way your words have haunted me. I don't fit into this world. I hope that doesn't sound too weird. I try to believe you, but I don't. Tomorrow's a different day. I don't know who you think I am. And for some reason, it matters. We know the game, we played it, and now you want to cry uncle. I'll pay for my sins, the heartache begins. Drinking wine and thinking bliss is on the other side of this. I've felt that fire oh and I've been burned, but I wouldn't trade the pain for what I've learned. Would I? It really makes me wonder if I ever gave a fuck about you. That's a lie. Bloodshot eyes. It felt good to be bad, and was it worth the aftermath? Only time will tell. These changes ain't changing me. This was never the way I planned, not my intention. Dutch courage. Half-finished bottles of inspiration. Curiosity killed the cat. Tell me what I'll never be, make me feel broken. I don't feel like I am strong enough. Are you strong enough? I quit crying long enough. Motivate me, captivate me, I wanna get your face out of my head. Whisper what it is you want. Go on. Go on. Gone going everything gone give a damn. Make up your mind or I will. Walking to the beat of another drummer. Another fucking musician. I'm wishing my life away with these things I'll never say. Now here we are, and I'm suddenly standing at the beginning with you.
I beg to dream and differ.

Daydream Believer

Pitter Patter

Five matches later. I won't be lighting up much else for awhile. Not until I'm sure. Burned an entire pack one by one yesterday. Was that yesterday? Maybe the day before. It's all running together a little bit.

And if it is the scary thing?

If I don't get some support, people are gonna think I'm nuts. Maybe I am bonkers. Even if I pay very dearly for my thrills. Some of which are more thrilling than others.

I need a hug. I don't want to hear 'try not to worry'. As if I could do anything else. I'm a professional worrier. I want to have a conversation, and I want some honesty. It's all well and good to be nonchalant, but I'd like some indication that you know this isn't funny, that you're worried too. I tend to define my relationships physically, and this one lacks some serious hugs, it lacks connection and comfort zones. Suddenly it's not a very funny joke, though I'm sure you laughed pretty hard at the time.

I finally bought a mousetrap. One of the sissy humane ones, but I really don't want to have to dispose of dead mice. I'd much rather carry live ones in a box a couple of miles away from my house and set them free, hoping they don't come back.

Dreaming and Wishing and Hoping and Praying
Daydream Believer

Grip

What you don't have you don't need it now,
what you don't know you can feel somehow.

I found her. I realized I found her yesterday. That lady, that someone dark and delicious and lit from within. That person that I sometimes forget is always there. She's choosy, sometimes hard to find. It takes a lot to get her out sometimes. I have needed a lot of things from a lot of people for a lot of different reasons in the past. I reread the letter you wrote me. Kept in the same folder with bank statements, pay stubs, all my important documents, to remind me that I'm more than a pile of numbers and plastic cards. To remind me to work on being as amazing as someone thinks I am.

My world's on fire, how 'bout yours?
That's the way I like it and I'll never get bored.

Good deeds. Kind words. Closed eyes and clenched fists. The lies are tempting. A siren song of finding the understanding I so crave. But am I the one to do it? I try to ignore the scraping scratching skittering chewing gnawing that threatens me with sleeplessness. That was a tangent. Is honesty something I'm willing to deceive for? I could do it, mention the schedule, the timing, press my lips into the fine line that tells everyone I'm about to crack, stare into his eyes and let the pain and anger he caused me show, letting him take it for fear and apprehension. Lie. I could. Let him sweat, watch him squirm. Find out if the whole thing feels a little familiar to him. And then... what? Reveal the truth? I'm not sure there are enough tums in the world. I want to though. Close to compulsion at this point, I want to know what happens. Mostly, yes, I regret the risks I didn't take, but I'm not sure where the ripples of this one will break, and I'm not sure I want to bring that in.

I won't keep this secret any longer. I liked it for a time, but its time has passed. I suddenly doubt the sheep will judge. Because I'm no longer ashamed. I made my choices, and, let's face it, I wanted to do it. Perhaps honesty would have been better all along. Shoulda woulda coulda. But I'm okay. And not just because of someone's excellent advice, along the smile at your enemies because it drives them nuts line. I want to believe he didn't want to hurt me. I really do. But I also want to believe that I wasn't invested enough to be hurt, and you can see how well that worked out. I'm not sure whether the intent or the result is the important part. I do know I'm okay. I know I haven't been crippled. I want to talk, but I've already confessed enough. Knowledge is power, and he already has too much of it over me.

Pain is fleeting,
Blows are glancing,
When you're dancing
Through life.

I danced. I thrashed around like a maniac and nobody even looked at me sideways. Well, there were a couple of long-haired, bare-chested boys looking at me sideways, but not because I was dancing like a maniac. I love clubs like that. I drank, I danced. I did what I wanted to and I didn't feel guilty about it at all. I crave complications and seek them out, but sometimes it just has to be simple. Two days later, I look for the complications. I wonder about occupations, I question if I should have done things a little differently. But I had a good night, a night that soothed a part of me I hadn't realized had gone raw. Fortunately I craved the right kind of relief without realizing why. I'll give you a good cuddle.

He wants to talk. He wasn't any use when I needed to talk to him though. Really, I shouldn't have been surprised, since I was the one who did it. I was the one who hurt him, so it shouldn't have surprised me that he stopped being there when I needed him after I pushed him away.

Just a city boy,
Born and raised in South Detroit.

Age is a funny thing. I remember thinking how old they seemed. How wise. How distant and unconnected from me. I remember thinking I couldn't possibly relate, couldn't possibly understand. One more 'so why don't you have a boyfriend?' and I was going to lose it. Now I look at the year in her birthday, and it's one later than his. She's a year younger, this woman who was so much a woman when I was still such a child. This woman who couldn't possibly relate to me, she was simply too old. And he's older than her. It makes me wonder about the perceptions we have of age, the hangups. Old souls.

I'm here. I have this project to work on. I'm not quite sure how to deal with the actual doing bit, but I have the ideas. My nationality is my definition at the moment, and I plan to embrace it. Confessional, performing the wound, two, two, two things in one. I'm thinking of the woman with the once-profound ideas again.

Keep Dreaming,
Daydream Believer

Betting on the Wrong Dark Horse

New Years is a good time for introspection. It's not exactly New Years anymore, rather getting into the next decade. I have resolutions, as usual, but they just keep getting less concrete. Less with the lose 15 pounds (or just over a stone) and quit spending so much money, and a little more with the trying to work out where I'm going and how I'm getting there.

I'm trying not to worry, which is difficult for me, very difficult. I'm thinking the words he said, even though I refuse to say them aloud. But I think I'm okay. Sometimes my curiosity is destructive. I want to know even though I know he doesn't want to tell me, and I'm not sure I want the image to get any more vivid. Just like that riddle. Two children come in from playing outside, one has dirt all over her face, one has none. Why does the child without dirt go running to wash her face? They each, having looked at the other, assume they should be the same. No regrets. I stand by my choices, but perhaps with a new perspective, should similar opportunities arise, I'll make different choices.

Playing the role of someone in control.

In 2009 I moved to another continent, a different country. I did some things I always wanted to, some I never expected to (hello headstands!) Six months ago a lot of things were different, and some are exactly the same. That's right, New Years Day makes six months. On another count entirely, three months down, six to go. It's hard to believe I got through the first three, and it's harder not to feel like it's all downhill from here. I just have to remember the reasons for it, why I'm there. All those things I have to work so hard to remember when it feels like I've made a big mistake.

Unrelated note: Cadillac makes hearses. Go figure. I shouldn't watch the news. I notice the weirdest things, like the car company that made the hearse carrying the body of a suspected mobster.

Let me know that I've done wrong, when I've known this all along.

Good morning. I'm sitting in a globally known chain coffee shop recently well known for its wireless internet access. I'll get to why in a minute. But first, time to air the New Year's first dirty laundry. I try not to regret. In my head, I know it's a waste of energy, since I can't take it back, and even given the chance, I probably wouldn't. I've just done something I have to work really hard at not regretting. I could unravel all the complex and intertwined reasons why I did it, but it all boils down to I wanted to. And if I hadn't, on some level, I would still want to. I asked myself what the worst that could happen was, and I didn't imagine it hurting too much. Truth be told, this is one of the possible outcomes I had thought of. But everyone likes to think of themself as better than all that. Still I was surprised by the cold. I thought I was playing with fire, I expected to get burned. This doesn't quite feel like a burn. Regardless, I have to get used to it, because it's there, and it can't be undone. There is an awfully high temptation to find the nearest Louisville slugger, but on the whole it would be unwise, and probably wouldn't make me feel any better anyways. It's true though, could be the only true thing he said the whole time, but I did know what me, him, and a bottle of liquor meant. I still have most of the liquor, which is good, since I might need it in the next little while.
I didn't hit him. He said he knew he was being horrible, and that he'd understand if I wanted to hit him, he even took his glasses off and stood still. I wanted to hit him, badly, but I didn't. This wasn't supposed to hurt, but I willingly accepted the risk that it might anyways.

Am I supposed to be happy when all I ever wanted, it comes with a price?

I slept surprisingly peacefully last night, all things considered. Oh, talking myself down enough to go to sleep wasn't easy, and I have Bear to thank for the words that finally got me to lie down long enough for sleep to catch me. I slept peacefully until shortly before 8 anyways, because that's when I heard the skittering behind my bed. At first I wasn't sure what it was, then I hoped it was just one of the postcards scraping its way down the wall. Then it squeaked, and I freaked. Only one in the house, naturally, I panicked slightly. I grabbed clothes and my bag and practically ran out the door. Which brings me to why I'm sitting in a coffee shop before ten on a Saturday morning, listening to the piped-in music and trying to fight down the things that are making my stomach churn.

Good morning. Hope the day turns out a little better, but it's sunny.
Daydream Believer

Harm and Foul

I hate sleeping through alarms. I've lost my moral high ground. Maybe that's just as well. Maybe it'll be better without the antagonism. Or maybe it won't. Who knows. I've thought about it, I've wondered and considered and chosen a course of action. I'm feeling a little Frost-y at the moment. I spent part of the evening with a friend. A good friend, better than I generally have any right to expect. An inversion of friends I've had before. Not to say that I don't expect and hope constantly, because that's just my nature, and I'm bound to do it. But I have those expectations, those hopes, and when they don't manifest, or manifest a little differently, it's okay. An inversion, it doesn't have to be a fight, a test of wills, it's honest. It feels good. Safe in a backwards way. We're not making it any harder than it needs to be. I usually make things more difficult than they should be.

The damaged attract the damaged, and it's a little like the blind leading the blind. I want to make it better, I always want to fix people. I'm not sure why. Has to do with want and need, and probably daddy issues too. I always worry. I worry and I overthink and I can never use the excuse of not having thought it through because I always do. I do the things that people make excuses for. They say they were drunk, or punch-drunk, seeing red or looking at the world through rose-coloured glasses. They say they didn't know what they were doing, what would happen, that they can't think, that they don't think. I don't have those excuses. I think it all through, calmly, rationally, and still do it. Knowing the consequences, knowing what can or might or will happen, I do it anyways. After careful consideration, I make the conscious decisions that people tend to blame on their unconscious minds, on the id, on their reptilian brains. I don't get to cover my ass, I've just made choices and then have to live with them. Some have been the least of evils, certainly, but by no means all of them. I sometimes wonder if I am really some sort of monster, or if I'm damaged beyond repair. If either is the case, how can I justify wanting to fix people? Maybe I first need to fix me. Only thing is I'm not sure how.

Dance With Me?
Sing once again with me, our strange duet. I play with fire. I like it. I may be an adrenaline junkie, but I'm picky about my triggers. I'm drawn to the darkness, convinced, perhaps, that the light lies at the end of the tunnel, or that once my eyes adjust the best things are the ones once obscured by darkness. Crazy, but that's how it goes. The closer you get to the light, the bigger a shadow you cast. I want to see what the shadows hide. I want to know. I want to understand. And if you want these kind of dreams, it's Californication. I need to connect to something, connect to someone. I let myself get drawn in and it's never enough. Feeling as good as love, you could, you can. I like duality. I like the underdog. I'm drawn to the damage, like a rubbernecker on the highway. I don't have guilty pleasures, or at least I try not to. I make my choices and I deal with the fallout. No harm, no foul. Either way I don't want to wake up from this, sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare. I have an overactive imagination, I spend too much time living in "if" land. If only, If I, what If? Sometimes I play with fire and it warms me right to the core. Sometimes all I get is burned fingers, and sometimes the odd welt on my thumb. I've always liked games of chance. I'm steady but I'm starting to shake, and I don't know how much more I can take. I've never really been one for games of skill, mostly because skills can come and go so easily. My bets are usually with the green lady. One or the other. You're the right kind of sinner. I'm not. Sin is a tricky concept. If it's bad, why do we want it? If it's good, why would we be punished for it? More ifs. Ifs ands and buts. There are always exceptions. What you feel is what you are. I wish I could sing like Pat Benatar. I forget how much I love to sing, how much I need to sing. That's the way, though, isn't it. Sometimes you forget what you need until you have it. I think I thought I saw you try. Nothing's going to stop me from trying. Nothing ever does stop me from trying, at least nothing external. I'm stubborn as anything. I got it from my mother. Well, she jokes that I didn't because she still has all hers. But you get the idea. I want these words to make things right, but it's the wrongs that make the words come to life. I want what I want, and half the time you'll never know what it is. Because I'm afraid. I was surrounded by enough cruel, vindictive, competitive people in the past that I learned not to share my goals, because once someone knew about them, they became an obstacle to them. Guess I'm really on my own. As though if I say it out loud it's true, and I have to really deal with it when I fail, rather than just saying I didn't care anyways. I care too much, but I have to. I have to care about something, about someone, it's a compulsion. I am falling, and if I let myself go, I'm the only one to blame. I have to care, I want to care, and that's what usually hurts me. I like the duality of it, to be honest, the contradictions, the paradoxes. I like paradoxes. Paradoxes and balance. Both hydrogen and oxygen burn, but together they'll put a fire out. I don't want to put the fire out. I like it, it's warm and it makes everything else go. Isn't it messed up how I'm just dying to be him? I've never been one for Pascal's Wager, but strangely that doesn't stop me from believing in something. We always wind up talking philosophy. Not that that's a complain by any means. I wish I could make that pattern expand. People need more hugs. Take a backseat, hitchhike, take a long ride on a motorbike. My scars are mostly on the inside, lining my lungs, my stomach, filling the spaces between the muscles and the fat, stretching between the tendons. Let's compare scars, I'll tell you whose is worse. The ones on the outside are nothing special. Chicken pox, a couple of childhood scrapes. I've never broken a bone, even twisted or sprained a joint. This world if you let it will drive you into the ground. I won't let it. I can beat this. I have to be able to. I have to believe that I haven't been set up to fail. If I don't, if I can't, there's nothing else I can do. Well, there's always one thing I can do, but that would require a trip to the chemist. You're no problem at all.

Mistakes can only happen with the benefit of hindsight. Unless we're speaking empirically, of course. But empirical really isn't my style. Mistakes are just risks you wish you hadn't taken. Sometimes you can only see things from the outside. Sometimes beauty is in the mind of the beheld. There should be more love. The stigma shouldn't be in having done it. The celebration should be in having recovered. Everyone needs more hugs.

I've been more introspective than usual, which is saying something. I must be making up for the extraversion of the last little while. That's right, I'm an extrovert. Shy as I am. Another paradox. No wonder I've got such an affinity for them. I'm full of them.

Keep Dreaming
Daydream Believer