Happy 2011

Things have changed. Lots of things. My writing style, certainly. And my writing habits. I've discovered in a quasi-archaeological dig through my posting history, a number of near-complete posts which I didn't publish. This is a stark contrast to my earlier writing, when I posted any random thought I had, without much editing, as fast as I could pour it out into cyberspace. I'm choosier with publishing my thoughts now, I think. As a result, I'm not posting as often, or as much when I do. Perhaps it's time to give the filters a bit of a break and let the flotsam and jetsam flow into the sea.

I think both in terms of monetary value and physical volume of stuff I received this year, it was at least close to the smallest Christmas I can remember. And that's fantastic! I received a few things that I really wanted (books, mostly), something I wanted but didn't realize I wanted (a teapot for flowering tea), and a goat. Some chocolate and a tea infuser, little lovely things. And of course the tarot card from Gold.

I was concerned, I admit, that this holiday would be tough. I was concerned that I would have gigantic piles of guilt. That my family and I would start to hate one another. That I would get a whole bunch of awesome things and feel guilty about it. That I wouldn't get very much stuff, and I'd feel hard done by. Even though I didn't want a lot of stuff. I have gotten a lot less materialistic, and I was concerned that, in one way or another, I'd find the whole gift-related experience of this delightful season unsatisfying.

But it's okay. I spent time with friends and family. I enjoyed seeing people I don't see too often, I gritted my teeth and drank a little more wine when things got tense. I didn't run out of the room crying or stand, feet planted, hands on hips, shouting until anyone else ran out of the room crying. Maybe, just maybe, things are beginning to work out. Maybe, just maybe, Mom and Dad are beginning to realize that I'm, if not a grown woman, certainly closer to being one than I have been before.

I spent New Years with Loud, Gold, and Sphinx once again. It's become something of a tradition, even if we missed it last year. I may have overdone it a little, but I maintain that a hangover is my body's way of reminding me what a great time I had the night before.

Among the people I count as close friends, I have few boundaries. Every now and then, I remember why those boundaries are there. I remember why every single solitary detail of my new love interest shouldn't be divulged in excruciating, mind-numbing clarity. Largely, it's because someone is going to tell me that what I'm doing isn't right, that it's not safe or healthy or fair. I can grit my teeth and take those judgments. Have to, really, since I've been known to dole them out rather generously, when required.

But I'm not going to put much stock in "Well then that's not really a relationship, is it?" It's not your place to define me any more than it's my place to define you. I could come up with one heck of a dictionary, and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't like it.

I'm on a new road. One that I'd been mapping long before I got a car, so to speak. Who knows where the speed bumps are? But if I did, what would the fun be? I've never been conventional.

One thing I didn't bother much with this year was resolutions. I've been trying to work out the specifics and logistics of my goals for several months now and as expected did not come to a blazing epiphany hours before the clock struck midnight. I suppose the only coherent thing you could put into a simple phrase in terms of my goals would be keep on keepin' on. Which is what I'll be doing for the foreseeable future. 

Happy New Year
Keep Dreaming

Every Form of Refuge Has Its Price

Sooooo... three cheers for the overly-optimistic nut. I like to think I'm not too picky, really, I like things to be mostly upfront. I mean a little mystery now and then is lovely, but sweeping things under the rug just isn't my style.

Apparently, it doesn't have to be, because I'm the one getting swept under the rug. Dandy. There are many tiny moments that corroborated my opinions, made me think I had a chance. Like how they played my song, him and his band, when I asked them to. How comforting he always was. How, when we went out on a proper piss-up, then had to take one girl home, which killed the mood a little and made a couple of people call it a night, he stayed out with me because I didn't want my night to be over yet. The things he said to me and the way he properly listened to the things I said. There was something so delightfully genuine and organic about the whole thing. It was lovely. Sometimes it's not hard for me to smile, to be giddily joyful for no apparent reason. I thought I was out of the woods, I thought I was free and clear from when he told me to put down my cup of tea. If it is true, that thing that he couldn't say without sounding like a prick, and I didn't make him say out loud (maybe I should have) then why did he tell me to put that cup of tea down? Something changed. Likely, he sobered up, realized what had happened, and kicked himself for it. It wouldn't be the first time.

But I'm back to being let down. Broken down because I'm not a good idea. I'm not worth my past. Well, at least I'm not beige in this one. Because the stupid things I've done in the past and the hurts I've caused myself and other people have caused me aren't enough in and of themselves, they now get re-validated as the reasons for more hurts. Maybe it's because he's afraid.

I've had a lot of late nights and early mornings this week, which perhaps accounts for my slightly warlike stance by 3 am. I am not one to take things sitting down. And when the person I most want to confront is, for one reason or another, impossible to confront, I tend to go on the warpath against the person or people I find most connected to the problem. Yesterday was unusual because my target, unexpectedly, was myself. There was a little bit of railing against the people in my romantic past, particularly the past year, but for the most part I was my own victim. Sometimes I say the words I'm most afraid someone else will say just to lessen the blow of it if they ever do say them. As though if I've already said it out loud, already acknowledged it, they're just restating things I already know, and it won't hurt as much. I aired a huge number of my insecurities, well, mostly just a couple many many times in the form of jokes at my own expense. Not particularly well-thought out or funny jokes, but jokes nevertheless. I am the girl who, even wearing the shirt I had on last night, can't get a guy to buy her a drink in a bar. I am the girl who is so much more attractive when you're drunk, and who you regret kissing the next morning, if you even remember her face. Perhaps this honorary man business isn't all it's cracked up to be.

As tempted as I was, I didn't do it. I wanted to, fairly desperately, but for some reason last night the toxins just didn't happen. Could have been a lot of reasons. It could have been Bear's presence, it could have been the little white plastic thing. It could have been because hurting myself emotionally is getting to be enough for me, I don't need to fuck with my body too. I'm not sure which reasons in what concentrations are responsible, but I didn't wake up with that familiar stale taste in my mouth, and I'm glad. The war paint is back on with a vengeance though.

Oh what can it mean?
Daydream Believer

Roots

I'm defined not by what I am, but by what I'm not. What I'm not is getting to be a much shorter list. One small step. A few old songs. It's a little less like war paint now, even though I'm still picking up that shield and sword. All things to everyone. What am I gonna be? I'm wound up too tight. I need to get rid of my guilt complex. Complexes. My subscriptions. The dirty old river keeps rolling into the nightmares. Water under the bridge. No fear, no doubt. Last call, you can't stay here. Oh what can it mean? Now you know how happy I can be. What's next? When you can't walk anymore, you keep on crawling. You keep moving because there's nothing else to do. My contradictions are my trouble. That's how you get to be your own enemy. With a self like this. I can't fight it. Face the music. That's what I'm doing, facing the music.
Dancing in the moonlight.

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

Poison

Destructive behaviour is a funny thing. Funny peculiar, usually, although I have been laughing an awful lot lately. A means to an end. I wonder where the end will be. I know what will likely happen if I continue. I've seen the pictures. It isn't that I like it, it isn't that I need it. But oddly, it makes it all feel better. The willing intake of so many toxins, it makes me feel better, strangely. Like bringing the turmoil from the inside into something concrete, something of which I am the commander. Something that's between me and that little burning tube. Someone made the hypothesis that in order to do this kind of thing, one must hate oneself. I freely admit that I hate myself from time to time, but it is not at those times that I crave the toxins, not usually. Something to focus on, something to bring myself out of myself, something to make the rest of the world real again. Art on the edge, going not quite to the point where you lose control, but close.

And it makes it easier. Easier to forget. I already have that foul taste in my mouth, it lets me ignore it. Easier to act, not to think, not to wonder, not to compare. Easier to keep the secret. I once felt relief, a strange, twisted kind of relief that all I needed to trigger a sensory memory of that strangely comforting time was to smoke a couple of cigarettes and drink a case of cheap beer. It was that easy, and the taste in my mouth when I woke up the next morning was exactly the same. And here I am drawing parallels with that time again. Much as I say it's the same, it isn't. Fundamentally, it has this major, gigantic difference which I can only see being totally honest with myself. I won't call this a game, even if there is some play involved. I toy with the idea of opening up, of telling tales. If I did, the inherent betrayals aside, would it change the act, force me to change the qualities or quantities of it in the telling, in the reactions? Adjust the past in my memory based on the reactions of someone who wasn't there? Colour the experience with the eyes of the present? Force me to qualify and quantify my own reactions? I don't know. You have to be honest about what you want, and I don't know why that has always been so hard for me. But now I am honest about what I want. Both in the short term and the long term. At least to myself. At least as far as I can figure out what I want. That's all I can ask of myself.

I would be lying if I said I wasn't worried. I'm reasonably sure it's not a motorcycle accident, since it's supposed to be packed up for the winter by now, but I'm still a bit sketched out. It's unusual for it to be like this. Some people, you don't worry if they don't pick up the phone, some people, you do. With him, I do. I'm worried, I'm afraid. Not just about now. About later. About whens and wheres and what ifs. I'm pretty good at being realistic, but what happens when the thing you've tried to be most practical about becomes the thing which not only can, but must, defy rationality, the thing that makes everything else take a back seat, the thing everyone's looking for whether they think they are or not. The thing I thought I couldn't have, and so petulantly declared I didn't want. Maybe I still can't have it. That would be poetic, wouldn't it?

Keep Dreaming
Daydream Believer

Smile

I did it. I had an adventure. By myself, with no one else's prodding. As adventures go, it was fairly tame, but it was a step, hopefully the first of many. And for now, the events of my evening are my very own little secret. I haven't had a good one in awhile. I don't have to tell anyone about it, and that feels amazing, like I've got an ace in the hole. Better, even, because I don't have to reveal it to use its power. I went out and did something just for me, just because I wanted to. I broke down one more wall. I have the strangest smile all over my face, every time I think about it. I laugh out loud. I'm not all the way free yet, but I've taken a big step in that direction.
I have another secret too, but that's only kept from the one person. It's got some power to it too. I mirror her insecurities. I didn't realize how many of her there were. I should have known. We're doing this less for ourselves than each other. This idea that women are always so mean to one another is complete bullshit. The best defense seems to be a good offense. And a shared secret, after so many kept from us.
Sweet Dreams

Friends With Complications

Her: "So, uh, are you two, uh...?"
Me: Nervous laughter
Him: Nervous laughter
Me: "No, we're, uh, friends..."
Her: Raised eyebrows "With benefits?"
Him: "Um..."
Me: "More like complications."

An old conversation. Out of date by several months. but leave it to me to remember the random things, some good memories, some bad, a few regrets wrapped up in the scent of Old Spice and Irish Spring, flowers, swamp goo, and the not-quite-clean of a boy/man's apartment. We had our share of complications, mostly my fault, but I asked the questions and he answered honestly. It wasn't really his fault, although I blame him for it sometimes. A lot of the time. I wished for him to do things, say things, and now I wish I could remember them, so I could do them or say them, to make this better. But I can't. "Why do you have to be so attractive?" If I only had a nickel for every time I said that to someone. Right along with "What does she have that I don't?" and the inevitable answer of "tits". But in all seriousness, powerlessness just sucks, in all its forms, no matter which side of the equation you're on. Which kinda makes me wonder where the power in these situations is. I was so sure he had it, but now in a different position, maybe I was wrong about that. Maybe I was wrong about a lot. I guess it's complicated.

I'm surprised I'm not grinning like an idiot. I love hearing that people think well of me. No surprise, who doesn't? But it's best when it's completely brutally honest, and still favourable. I like to hear the brutally honest, no-holds-barred, I-swear-I-didn't-know-you-were-listening opinions people have of me. It's probably narcissistic, and it's probably not very good for me, especially because it's not always a glowing review. But I can't help it, something in me wants to know how I appear to the outside world, because everything looks different depending on the eyes you're using. And every now and then, what people think of you has an effect. Sometimes you can teach yourself to see what they see.
I love the sound of the words she wrote as they roll around in my skull, staving off, at least for a couple of hours, that irritating voice full of derision and foul mood. Lit from within, all red lipstick and dark eyes, young and powerful, something dark, delicious, and alive.

I can't shake the guilt though. I'm not mad, not at her, though I don't think she believes it. It's the guilt that was bound to come back ever since I said "I wish I was a little more like him". Well, now I am a little bit, and I wish I wasn't. He revels in this, having the means to manipulate, to hurt. I just want to make all the hurt go away, and I don't know how.

The older I get, the shakier the foundations of my friendships seem, the old as well as the new. My closest oldest friend I didn't meet all that long ago. Next on the list is the one who I can barely quantify any more, all magnetism, memories, and Irish Spring. Most of the rest don't even seem like my friends, more like friends once removed, I wonder how many of them would still be around if I wasn't around him. I've never had good luck with making friends, I'm a little on the beige side, people don't tend to remember me. At least as far as I know. Every now and then the tables turn, the tide shifts, and I get to deal with the fallout. Sometimes it's more fun than others. Sometimes complications are my only real friends.

Maybe I can widen that circle a little bit.
Dream On
Daydream Believer

What Tastes Like Blue?

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes. I took this quiz over 2 years ago, and posted the result here. This is a more recent version of the same quiz. If they're at all accurate, and they sure sound it, yikes. I guess it was an eventful two years.

DDB took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test! "Her need to feel more causative and to have a wide..." Click here to read the rest of the results.

Looking forward to hitting the trails with Loud in the not too distant future. As long as we don't have to sing "Happy Trails".

Daydream Believer

Page 11 Ingenue

So I'm NaNoing. It's harder than I thought it would be, but also easier, if that makes any sense. The words are coming, all right, but they're not the kind of words I thought they'd be. I had one character, strong, smart, savvy, with all these interesting things to do, but I could not for the life of me make her do them. I mean she did them, I just couldn't pull off a play-by-play, I had to resort to some expository bullshit after the fact. At first I thought that it was because I'd let myself get to attached to her, that there was too much me in her to let her do things I wouldn't or couldn't. Then I realized that this all comes from the write what you know thing. I've never done those things, or anything really like them. The one event I got closest to getting right on paper is the one that was closest to my own experiences. It's because she wasn't enough like me for me to get in her head on those things, because if I did, she'd act like me, and she doesn't. And then I realized that this other character I'm writing about is a lot more accessible to me. And damn it I swore I wouldn't write about my own love life. I'm not, completely at least. It's not me, and it's not him on the paper. Sure, they're people a little like us, but it's not what happened, or the way it happened. But it's close enough. Having met and spoken with a hedonistic don juan of a man, I can more easily imagine his tricks. Which is a lot like where Devin came from. Aha! An epiphany, she can't fall under his spell because she is him. He can't bewitch her because she already knows his games, and can play them against him. Maybe win. Enter the ingenue. Of course, that's why she couldn't be a sideline character. The story is really about her. Funny, isn't it? She didn't show up until page 11.

Keep Dreaming
Daydream Believer

P.S. 18809

Till I Am

Who'd have thought that a song called "Crazy Bitch" could seem so romantic? This side of a good night's sleep, it doesn't, except for that odd memory. Still haven't decoded that funny look... but I'm pretty sure I'm not imagining it now.

So maybe I'm walking the razor's edge, given history, and its unsettling habit of repeating itself. In terms of "what might have been" there's quite a bit. Maybe it still could be, but I doubt it. We're not who we were. Maybe it feels so safe because its not, the same way that some things feel so scary because for once there's nothing to be afraid of. Another chip off the ol' shell, I suppose.

Yes, it's a hellhole, but dammit, it's my hellhole. I guess that's why I smiled all day today. When I wouldn't last night... or couldn't.

Relative reality... hm, there's a concept I could sink my teeth into. Nothing more than what you can perceive exists, or even if it did, you wouldn't notice it. The only truth you can find is the one you come up with yourself.

Keep dreaming.
Daydream Believer

How can I fit so many labels onto such a short post? Metaphors and total lack of clarity!

To Sweet Beginnings...

It's right, in a lot of ways, that I spent New Years Eve with Gold, with Loud, and with Sphinx. The year has come full circle, and aside from being a lot of fun, the evening felt full of poetic justice and the tying of loose ends... or the dripping of wax onto already-tied knots, in some cases.

All lives are made in these small hours,
These little wonders,
These twisting turns of fate.
Time falls away, but these small hours,
These small hours still remain.

The girl who attended last years' party at Loud's would have been completely confused, befuddled, and more than a little distressed by the current state of events, and guess what? I'm not. Because I'm not her, and probably never will be her again. (Side note, brilliant book about identity: The Third Woman, by Mark Burnell, but it won't make much sense without reading the first three, The Rhythm Section, Chameleon, and Gemini, but they also deal with identity, so it still works.) And guess what? I'm okay with that, despite feeling no particular animosity towards her. And that, my friends, is this year's big step, not feeling animosity towards who I have been while pursuing who I will be, and at the same time not ignoring who I am at the moment.

To sweet beginnings and bitter endings,
In coffee city, we borrowed heaven,
Don't give it back, winter is coming,
And I need to stay warm.

Anyways, I'm looking down the barrel of a cannon full of possibilities, which makes me happy, since none of them look really unfriendly. While it'sgood to be home, I'll be glad to be back South.

We found a map to buried treasure,
And even if we come home empty handed,
We'll still have our stories, battle scars,
Pirate ships and wounded hearts,
Broken bones, and all the best of friendships.
And when this hourglass
Has filtered out its final grain of sand,
I'll raise my glass to the memories we had.

Yes, I made some resolutions. And yes, I'd be glad to hear yours, and here's hoping they're more original than "Quit spending money and lose 10 pounds". Not that they aren't worthy goals, but come up with something interesting for New Years. Here's a few that I read or heard various places:

Laugh more.
Drink less coffee.
Sit down and look at the stars/clouds for at least 20 minutes at least once a month.
Do something every day that scares you.
Strike up a conversation with a stranger on public transit or in a grocery store.
Walk or bike somewhere you'd normally drive once a week. (Maybe this one just in the summer for those of us living somewhere very very cold.)
Skip stones. Even if you don't know how.
Smile wider.
Arbitrarily break your routine.
Randomly break into song/dance at least once. (No, DDR does not count)

Alrighty, so there's some interesting New Years Resolutions I've seen. Anyways, that basically covers it in the "things I meant to say when I got to a computer" department, at least, I think it does... if not, there's always tomorrow.


So here's to sweet beginnings, bitter endings or not.
Happy New Year, Keep Dreaming in 2008.
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

Thankful and Courting Disaster

Courting Disaster
Right now I have this rather precarious feeling, as though I'm courting disaster. I miss people from the past. I missed people from the present. I want to make everything hurry up, so that I can see what's going to happen. There's my life here, my life there, I don't know how the two are going to mesh, how this whole thing is going to shake out. I have no right to be this tired in the middle of the day.

The runway lights are the deepest blue, like the colour of your eyes.

Red knew exactly what I meant when I said I had a little problem. I can't say it was a surprise in light of recent events, but in light of more distant past events, I'm nothing short of flabbergasted. Not so long ago, unbidden, I thought of you, and I decided that it was a good thing we'd grown apart, because if I'd still needed you, I'd be shit out of luck. Maybe that's the thought that was on my mind when we started talking again. Really talking, none of this "hi, how are you?" nonsense. Not like we were before. Better. We started off acres beyond where we'd ended.
You used to scare me, but you don't anymore. I didn't know how to deal with you at all. I'm still a little in the dark. I crave the unknown as much as I fear it, however. We're still not quite on the same page, but aat least now we're in the same book. maybe we can go from there. I asked the same thing of you before, and that which I feared happened anyways, perhaps had already happened. But please, don't let me lose you.

Just Dance
Poster shopping! Yay! Now I can rival Emcee in terms of our relative poster awesomeness. By April we won't have any wall left, at least not visibly. It's fantastic.

Well behaved women rarely make history.

Thankful
Alright already, do you honestly have to go out of your way to make me blush? Really. And would it be so bad if I did have a boyfriend? Other than the inevitable, it was wonderful. I may have a job lined up as a minion to a producer for the not-too-distant future, which, if it was paid work, could keep me out of the house of grease for a long time.

I would believe only in a god that knows how to dance.

--Friedrich Nietzche

Daydream Believer

Because the Night

Come on now, try and understand,
The way I feel under your command.
Take my hand as the sun descends,
They can't hurt you now, can't hurt you now, can't hurt you now.

On Sunset At Sunset
No, it's not the same place. It's very similar, but it isn't quite the same. It's not that theatre. The place I was talking about was that place, that wonderful, peaceful place. A place that's so much like this place. I loved to wander around there, I love to wander around here. I don't fear so much here. That's a lie. I fear differently here. I don't fear the night anymore, not the same way. The night's the same everywhere. I'm ignoring my work, which I've got gads of, to write this and to read a lovely book that fuels, even if it doesn't explain, my infatuation with the night. Twilight. Sunset. It doesn't seem real, so I can be brave, I can be my fictional self. It's wonderful, until I have to face the bright light of morning. Morning light can be so lovely, so clear and crisp, throwing the world into sharp relief, putting everything into higher definition. But sometimes you don't want the past to be so clear. Sometimes you'd rather not face reality. Sometimes you like the world to go a little blurry. It's about dark and light, but the darkness is a little misunderstood. The night can be an escape, such a relief. I find that I'm more afraid of the clear than the blurry right now. I don't know why that is.
There's nothing there in the dark that isn't there in the light. Is there?

Sunbreak
Watching the rain through a crack in the window,
It's the little things get you through,
Like the same sun rising over me's rising over you.
I wonder if you can see the change in my face. Gold, Loud, Este, and Sphinx, you'll have to let me know. I can feel it most of the time, it's subtle, but it's there. I sometimes feel like I've gone back, four years almost exactly. The same feelings, the same insecurities. But it's in the cards, this too shall pass. Opportunity. Carpe diem. A little cliche, I know, but it's real. I've shed one tear since I've been here. One single solitary tear. Not on the day I expected to, or for the reason. I'm not sure whether I felt worse before or after it fell.
Just didn't drink enough to say you love me,
I can't hold on to me,
Wonder what's wrong with me.

The Nile
Say that as though you've lived in Manhattan your entire life, and you'll understand. Fortunately, the whole thing passed pretty quickly. No telling when it'll come back, but I won't deny it again. It's simply not healthy. It's one thing to refuse to act on a really bad idea, it's another thing entirely to pretend that the thought to act never came into your head.

I believe in love too real to feel.
Daydream Believer

All lives are made
With these small hours,
These little wonders,
These twisting turns of fate.
Time falls away, but these small hours,
These small hours still remain.

The Trail We Blaze

Maybe I'm a little bit slow on the uptake. Maybe a bit more than a little slow. Goodness knows I've missed a few things lately. Although a few things fell into place too. For instance, a year and a half too late, I figured out what the clue with the Anima/Animus thing was supposed to be. Although really, Gold, you ought to have known that your brain works on one wavelength, and mine works on a totally different one, and while that was a perfectly good hint working on your wavelength, I try to follow your brainwaves and get sucked into the undertow, and well, look at how long it took me for that clue to fall into place. It's a good thing I wasn't relying on your hints, isn't it? Otherwise I'd still be in the dark.

In any case, I also learned the difference between a monolith and a megalith. And based on what I know of both (granted, not much) I doubt that the former was ever as accurate as the latter, although that's my reality. Sure, there's an objective reality, but I'm sure that you're as sure that what you perceived as reality was real as I am that what I perceived as reality was real. Although you can't get much more real than your own experiences. It doesn't entirely surprise me to see how long that change took to take place, but it disappoints me a little. I suppose I haven't got any right to be disappointed, but since when have my emotions taken any advice from my head.

Red, Bear, Heater, I'm going to need that little vacation. I know it's going to be inconvenient, I know it won't be as stress-free as we'd planned, but I think I'm going to need to distance myself a little. Even if we don't end up leaving town.

Twice in six months I've gone back to old, grainy, black and white after a fortnight of high-definition. This time it was a little different. Maybe it was the lack of jet-lag. Maybe it was because things still haven't returned exactly to their sepia-toned everyday selves. I don't know, I may never know. Although I sympathize with Gold sentiment of "Okay, now it's time for the next thing." Stay tuned for the movie. Yes, there's going to be a movie.

Funny, isn't it, that when the tears started flowing, among all present, there was only one person who I wished would not see them.

There's change on the air again, lots of it. In many areas. A summery twist on my usual toboggan analogy: the enclosed black waterslide. This is, I guess, the part where, terrified, I sit on the dinghy and shut my eyes, powerless to control the direction or speed of the slide, never having been on a waterslide before, tuck in my feet and scream.

Just along for the ride,
Daydream Believer

Out Of The Blue

Cyclic Circles

I guess it takes hindsight to see the truth about it. Well, hopefully I'll know a little better for next time. I'm not going to get hung up on "might-have-beens", at least not today. But I'm about to start the same cycle over again. Now that I've been around the block once or twice, I feel like I can finally go for this without worrying so much.

Who am I kidding? I'll always worry, it takes up about 40 percent of my consciousness. I have to face facts, I'd be lost without it.

In any case, I have a few bits of, well, I think they're bits of brilliance, but everyone else might think they're bits of something else that starts with a B. That's ok though. They're mostly things I'm writing down so that I'll remember them in a couple of months. They may or may not make any sense to you, and that's ok too. Some bits out of my own mind, some bits I've picked up from people, books, coffee mugs or T-Shirts.

The trick is to dance like you're drunk even when you haven't had a drop.
Don't frown, you never know who might be falling in love with your smile.
Don't panic. You've made it this far, why would you break a winning streak like that?
Never say never.
Never say "What's the worst that could happen?" even if you're thinking it really hard, because fate may decide to show you.
Laugh. It's fun and good for you, and that's getting harder to find.
Have fun. It's rarely as serious as all that.
Oh, suck it up and go talk to him/her/them. They're not that scary, and they probably feel just as lost as you do.


MFM

How many times in the last couple of weeks have I thought about My Favourite Mistake? Too many. Way too many. I don't know why I'm thinking about it again after all this time. Maybe I'm still looking for the closure that I've grown doubtful I'll ever get. Maybe time has simply sealed the pages shut. Maybe that is my closure. I'd still like to touch base, I want to know what's happening now. Maybe I'm just playing with fire. I have to say, it's a good thing I'm not a cat.

Music
So lately I've had songs from these couple of movies stuck in my head. The kind of movie they give to little Christian kids to make them think they're watching Disney movies when really it's more like Sunday School on video. At least it's Sunday School with an award-winning soundtrack. The messages aren't bad, and the music's nothing short of amazing.

Memories
How awesome would it be to never have any regrets? It's something to try for, although it's practically impossible to do. I suppose I'm going for the happy medium here, between recklessness and being a wet blanket. Less like "forget regret" and more like "regret, sure, but then deal with it and move on". I blame Gold for my current state of having to scrutinize every idea that pops into my head and figure out how it meshes with my other ideas. Oh well, I'll never be bored. Here's to holding onto the good memories, and not dwelling too much on the not so good ones.

Anyways, I think that's pretty much enough musing for one morning. Ought to get out there and face the rest of the world, rather than just the part that is between me bed and my computer.

Keep Dreaming
Daydream Believer

Dark Horse

It's one of those days where you really want to be somewhere subterranean, if for no other reason than to escape the heat.

Alright so a tally of people who have almost made me cry/made me want to cry in the last 5 days...
My Draconian Boss (well I already know he's generally a prick)
Bear (Not intentionally, one of those bittersweet things)
Loud (Ditto)
SS (A long story...)
My Parents (Enough said)
My Siblings (Ditto)
CR (Again, bittersweet)
Heater (Ditto)



That's a lot of reasons to be close to tears, but I'm saving all the bittersweet ones for a couple of weeks... I'm going to at least put forward an effort to limit the number of times makeup makes ugly black streaks down my face.

On another note entirely, there's someone who I have this kind of "I like you usually, but sometimes I really want to smack that smug smirk off your face" relationship with. I already know Gold would tell me to do it... but even he might be surprised by who winds up with a red welt across their cheek. (Gold, if you're reading this, don't worry, it's not you.)

Quotes
There is nothing that is there in the dark that is not there in the light, except darkness itself.
There is nothing to fear, save fear itself.

What's the worst that could happen?- Famous last words.

Quote from Bear....
"Why do I find to so easy to picture [Ace] and [Gold] having a catfight?"

This is what I get for rereading all those old notes, eh? Speaking of Bear... I call dibs on wearing the dress for the long, boring, life-changing ceremony.

There's something about this time of year that leaves me feeling slightly exhilarated and gives me the distinct feeling that I can do anything, that anything is possible. Most people have to have a lot of chemicals in their system before they start thinking that. Maybe I'm just lucky that way.


I think things are finally starting to gloss over with Ace. Loyalties are finicky things. A note to Ace, in case he ever reads this and recognizes himself, Just because I care about you doesn't make me your mother, I promise. And I think I do a pretty good job of acting my age, you just don't notice when I act too young to be your mother. Which I am. By a good 40 years... but that's beside the point.

The next couple of weeks, and the two months after that, are going to be like tobogganning down a mudslide. Really really fast, and you get to the end and go, "did I seriously just do that?" Yep. Just like a big old roller coaster.

It's been one hell of a ride.

Daydream Believer