Wednesday, March 16, 2011

autumn breezes

Do you know the feeling of  being disconnected? That's where I find myself right now. It's quite confusing, although it isn't bothering me drastically at the moment.

I generally feel disconnected from most people. I guess I feel connected in the way of general humanity, and I'm sure in some sense that I am more connected with my friends. The one person who I normally feel completely aligned with, has left me for dead. Not really. I just really wanted to say 'left me for dead' because it popped into my head. Really, though, the link isn't there at the moment.

Nothing has changed, not really. Is it me? Is it him? Do I really mind? Life is so busy at the moment, I often don't even think about it. That's not true, either. I'm really like that Old Man River song :

"You're on my mind, wherever I go
I think it's time to let you know
That I can't go on watching love wasting away.'

I just can't help it really.

It's hard, too. Few people are supportive of him; in the sense that for their own reasons, they like to drag him down. In many different ways. Ah, obscurity. We are so innately similar, yet if you looked at our personalities from the outside, it would seem like we wouldn't get along at all.  I am now inclined to thrust a series of clichéd questions at you (such as 'why is life so hard?'). I will save you all the trouble and boredom, though.

I don't know what else there is to say. I just wish it could be simple. I see other people who have it easy. Jealousy isn't really my thing though.

On another note, today was such a beautiful autumn day.

(you can buy this photo at treknature)

Monday, March 14, 2011

goodness, it's late

Indeed, it is. I really should be asleep, but I just found out that we ran out of toilet paper, so I'm a little sad.

I have nothing especially interesting to write about. I drank Spanish hot chocolate today, from Chocolateria San Churro. It made me miss learning Spanish. I wish I could study it without having to pay anything.

Also, I drove about 50 kilometres in thick fog. It was incredibly exciting. Extra driving practice. This reminded me how much I love driving. It also made me wonder how I'm going to get enough cash to fix my car up.

I finished Frankenstein over the weekend. It's good, frustrating, elaborate, and lacking in something. I still haven't worked out what. To much 'woe is me' and not enough rational thinking. I mean, did Frankenstein really think that his monster was coming to take his life, and not his most beloved wifes? He obviously didn't read too many horror novels in his time. He obviously didn't realise how predictable his rational thinking monster man was.

Given my simplistic language I now see that I am using, I think I shall retire, and leave you with my logical complaints about a novel written nearly two hundred years ago.

(picture is of Geneva, where Frankenstein grew up)

Thursday, March 10, 2011

nothing to do, nothing to say

This is me trying to post something every single day.

I have nothing to say.

Today was simply awful.

So awful I got a headache, and now wish to remove myself entirely from civilization.

I think I should join Tumblr.

This post would be more appropriate there, wouldn't it?

Thanks for nothing, Thursday.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

a day of carrots and grammar

This post is about my editing class. Also, I am eating a carrot and it is making it very hard to type.

Goodness me, I love editing class. I love learning the intricacies of our silly language. Perhaps it is because English can be so ridiculous that I enjoy plumbing its depths? Or maybe it is simply that universal human trait of wanting to understand everything we possibly can? I don't really care, to be honest. It just makes me happy.

Editing 1, as my subject is called, has easily risen above all other subjects this semester. I now eagerly await Wednesday's; looking forward to learning new referencing styles and how to identify different parts of sentences.

I think I just realised one of the reasons I so enjoy this class. I learnt English at school, however I started reading and writing when I was about four years old. Like most native languages, I picked up various ideas and understandings of how the language works before I was formally taught anything. For me, studying grammar is like being taught why things are the way they are. I would say I have a good grasp of our language; I know what grammar rules are and how to apply them. Editing 1 is teaching me the in's and out's of these rules; the delicacies, formalities, and beauty of the English grammatical skeleton.

Yes, as nerdy as it sounds, there is a definite beauty to this whole process. I liken it to what I imagine a scientist feels when dissecting something. Breaking apart the whole in order to understand the pieces; simply for the purpose of better understanding the whole. (Not being a student of science, this is what I understand it to be about. Correct me if I am wrong.)

Grammar has strict rules, yet it has gentle nuances also. It appears to change, due to time and culture, and probably many other circumstances as well. It is somewhere between a science and an artform, and I am immensely enjoying studying it.

Also, my carrot was delicious.

(thanks sydneymorningherald for the cute photo)

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

too much info?

Today I saw a tweet from a random girl asking female bloggers between the ages of 18-30 to comment on how they draw the fine line between personal touches and too much information. Obviously, this got me thinking about my own blog.

When I first started writing, I made sure that I wrote with giving too much away. I wrote political commentary (or, the woes of shoe throwing), I wrote about odd things that happened to me, or I chose topics (music, procrastination, etc) to write about. And then, on my return from the middle of nowhere, my blogging style seemed to change. I note how I have written about love, loss, and rejection approximately four times in the past month. Given that I have only written about four posts in the last month, this says something.

I know that I started writing about feelings (trying not to sound like a 16 year old right now) on the internet because I thought it might help me, and if I was lucky, help others. More than if I simply wrote it all down in my little writing book. And it has helped. I've seen things I might not normally have seen. It's helped me open up to people, and now I know that a lot more people really care about me than I actually thought (ego relief?).

I've also recieved comments like 'I love the way you write', 'your blog is so beautiful', etc. (Again, all ego boosters to be sure.) I never heard anything like this when I was writing without heart. So now I am not sure what to do. I thought I had stepped over the line; I wondered if I had crossed into TMI territory. Even if this is so, it has had a much better reception than 'too little information'.

So now I put the question to you all, scary as it may seem to me. I know there are only, say, thirty or so people who read this. The anonymity makes it safe for you, though. What do you prefer? How I feel about John Howard or what goes on in my love life?

Monday, March 7, 2011

it's all in your head. no, really.

So, I am astounded at how much human's make up. Yep, make up. You know, make-believe, play pretend, etc. I watch people do it all the time, yet when it comes to the crunch, I don't even notice myself doing it. All of the things I waffled about in the last few days (posts); those feelings were real. I'm sure you can make up feelings, but what I felt was real. I did feel rejected, lonely, at a loss of what to do, and whatever else was there. But how did I arise at those feelings?

A curious idea to delve into, given people have been discussing this for years. And, just as a warning, I might introduce some abstract concepts here. Basically, the reason I was feeling hurt and dejected like I was, was my own fault. Purely. I have none to blame for my misery but myself. I interpreted a whole series of words and actions in a way that made me believe that I was about to get dumped. Of course, on the other side it is obvious, knowing now that was far from happening.

My brain is in possession of a rather stupid and very annoying idea called 'I'm not wanted, everybody is going to leave me'. It completely rules my life. And sometimes I forget. When I forget, I go crazy. That is, I drive myself crazy. So someone didn't call me during one day. In reality, so what? That's actually a normal occurrence. Only my sweet little idea steps in and shouts 'He doesn't want you anymore!!!! Quick, to Plan B!' Once it's nestled it's little claws into my mind, there's no going back. Everything gets seen as more evidence of the above idea, and so we move on to Plan C, D, E, etc.

The key point to this theory is that everyone does it. So while I was sitting in a cafe, thinking that the person sitting opposite me was completely uninterested in my story, and therefore (thanks to my little idea) that the person did not want to be with me anymore, said person was actually on another wavelength completely. This person was in fact so concerned about his finances (which were in something of a dire situation) that he could barely remember to drink his coffee, let alone acknowledge whatever I was talking about.

It goes on from there, only getting worse; every situation or side-long glance becoming insurmountable evidence for my charming idea. Whether it was that I didn't get invited to that something I didn't actually want to go to anyway, or simply 'he looked at me funny' (which in itself is an obvious case of perception deception), it's all downhill.

Luckily for me, said person understands this concept, and between the two of us we manage to bring each other back down to earth and a sense of reality. If it can ever be called that. At least we get each other out of our own head games. Then I can look back, see how it all unfolded, and even laugh at the absurdity.

The sad thing is, I watch my friends around me doing very similar things, only they have no way of getting out of it. I offer words of advice, but I think perhaps the idea that 'what I see is the truth' is far too enjoyable for people to step out of. Or maybe it is just such a huge part of humanity that it is hard to dispell? Either way, it causes pain and misery, as I have clearly given example to. I wish all the people in my life could see it as such, but sadly this is not the case.

I, for one, am glad that I have this view. I have, obviously, just made it all up. But do you know what? It works for me, and it doesn't hurt anybody, so I'm going to stick with it.

(thanks lalaland and opticalillusions for the images)

Friday, March 4, 2011

the show must go on?

After the thought train of last night, I decided that today I would not contact said person. At all. I wondered if perhaps they would notice the lack of attention? They will be forced to see me tomorrow night, so what is one day in the scheme of things?

God, I wish it were so easy. This deliberate withdrawing is driving me crazy! At least I'm seeing how attached I am. Although, that's useless information. I already knew that I was this entwined; I still haven't figured how to remedy it, or even if I want to. When I'm not participating in this self-deluding exercise, I estimate I think about this person a few times a day. Today, I'd say it's been every thirty seconds (excluding the three hour presentation at work - that was obviously interesting enough to hold my attention!).

Who knew it was so hard to disengage with just one person. It's not like I'm pulling away from the entire human race; I could imagine that would be very hard. This is one person, only one! And yes, it is someone I hold very close to my heart, but it wasn't like this when I moved out of home for the first time (for example). I missed my mum terribly. I probably thought about her every day. Even then, I only spoke to her every few days, as I still do now. How the hell did this one little soul wrap his claws around not only my heart, but also my brain?

I think some part of me must take great pleasure in driving myself mad. This idea, this withholding of contact, which seemed so wise at the time, is making me crazy. Right now I am using every grain of willpower to my name not to 'call and say hi!'. The sad thing, I guess, is that I have felt this before. The insatiable need just to hear the voice; the reassurance of that particular intonation. In this second, I want so badly to be able to disengage and not care. A mirror to how I have felt. That was the purpose of the exercise, wasn't it? To make the other person feel how I've been feeling?

It's possible I haven't even been missed. Maybe I'm too demanding in general? The constant fear I have is of not being wanted. I think I would rather be despised. At least that way there would be a reason; a logic that I would, despite the inevitable emotional turmoil, be able to understand. This waning of interest is like murder to me. A slow and painful death.

Which then leads me to notice that I am likely to do something stupid. Act out in some way to cause one of two results: get attention or upset and enrage. Either would be better than this current tide of raised eyebrows and sighing indifference.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

reflection on rejection

Do you know what I dislike intensely? The feeling of not being wanted any more. It's popping up in my life at the moment, sadly with some people I love most. I've been hesitant to even admit it to myself, because just the thought of it breaks my heart just a little. What a sop I am.

It's that whole feeling of not being included. It's like, when you stop being invited to things, or are clearly invited out of politeness. Or the day you feel like they're no longer interested in your life, and that you sharing what you're up to is actually boring them to death.

How can this all change so quickly? How can you go from being the most important person in someone's life, to being thought of as weird simply for calling to say hi? When did the 'I love you, see you tomorrow' turn into 'I'll catch you around'? I don't know if this has been going on for a while and I've just been in denial, or if it really has only changed recently.

I am writing from the heart here, because, let it be known, I am a little distressed over this. Normally I'd make an effort to make a post eloquent and possibly even witty, but I really don't have the strength today. My spirit is a little broken. I guess there's the age-old feeling of rejection, mixed in with some WTF IS GOING ON HERE? Add a dollop of, when did life get so confusing and wrong feeling, and I think that about sums me up.

There is nothing more to add tonight, not really. Just a wish that things would work out, and for the best. It just doesn't look like it will at the moment.

(thanks to firenzegold for the image)

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

some rather uninteresting night time wanderings

I'm going to start this post off by saying that I probably shouldn't broadcast my thoughts all over the internet. However, I have come to a conclusion as to why blogging is really great. I do a lot of writing, and I have a lot of really great friends. When I have a problem, issue or just something on my mind, I generally go to one of those two options. Writing is great, I can be purely self-expressed, not have to worry about anyone else's opinion, and I can just write what ever there is that needs to be written. Friends are also great, (as I'm sure you all know) because they offer things that I would never have seen by myself.

The problem with writing is that I write to myself, in a sense. Nothing really gets resolved, and I often go round and round in circles. Friends, on the other hand, will often help resolve things. This is not always ideal. Sometimes I just need to rant, blow off steam, talk it out, etc. And in their sweet way they will offer advice that I really didn't want anyway.

This is why blogging is wonderful. Thanks to Twitter and Facebook, I know that this will be read by someone. So I'm not writing to myself and driving myself crazy. At the same time, the unkown readers of this post are like the non-existent silent friend who simply lets me rave until there is nothing left to rave about. Blogging is my new happy medium between my two favourite outlets. Sometimes we all need to just say stuff, probably to no real purpose, right?

What I really wanted to write about, was love, I guess. Being stuck in the mindset of consistently asking myself, 'what is love?', I realise that this might not really be about love at all. Apologies in advance, my invisible friends.

What do you do when you get to the point of boredom? (Remember, these are all rhetorical questions.) Not bored with the person, but bored of the relationship. What do you do when it feels completely pointless, useless and directionless? Once, it was self-perpetuating, self-generating; it just happened, and it just worked. Now it is hard, and confusing, and just generally boring. (Sorry to repeat the adjective, but there's really no other word quite as fitting.) I'm sure there are people who would say, get out now, while you can! But at the same time, isn't it all part of it? Just something to work through, together?

I know sometimes I get bored of a friend. Then we don't hang out as much, don't talk as much, but after a while we're back to normal. I guess you just get over the boredom. Or something like that. Why can't it be the same with a relationship? I thought maybe removing myself would help, similar to what happens with a friend. Hence my disappearance over the summer. Since being back in the city though, it seems to have gotten worse. Also, as a side note, I realise I am being very indirect here, but you know, people know people, and word spreads fast, and all of that stuff.

I just can't really be bothered any more. And goodness knows that sounds so lazy and pathetic (which are both words I would easily ascribe to myself in many cases), but I just can't stand the tedium. The sense of standing still in the same spot for days, weeks, months. The idea of my emotions bubbling down until they are nothing but a trickling stream in a wide desert. The possibility that I could grow careless; as in, not caring. All of that sounds awful, and not what I want! I just don't know how to tear it up, let loose and send this thing flying. Considering this is not a self-imposed limbo, but rather a two person tango into oblivion, I don't know how to deal with it.

I don't know how to re-invigorate us. The fact that he's in his own half way house, the one called: do I want this or not? doesn't help. It makes me nervous and worried, and often makes me say and do very silly things. I sure as hell don't want to lose him, but the more he dallies, the more I get scared and the more I push him away. It's one giant, shitty downward spiral.

Well, folks, thanks for listening. Sorry for the absence of literary genius, or rather, the use of good vocabulary and grammar, but it's just where I am tonight. Luckily tomorrow's class is editing. I think I need it! Who doesn't want a bit of structure in their language, or their life?

(thanks my love poems for the pic)

Monday, February 28, 2011

lollipops please!

My class today requires I publish something in regards to the history of publishing. Sigh. At least I'm here, on my blog, publishing. As my fellow classmate said, how can you even write about something so boring? I would agree, although, look! I have written two lines already! 

So far (that is, two weeks into Semester 1) this class has been a refresher on last year's publishing class. Well, refresher is a tad generous. I've looked at more useless websites today than my brain has room for. I've been following Pobjie's Oscar commentary on Twitter. I don't even like the Oscars! Our lecturer is lovely, though, and her sympathetic smile tells me she knows how dreadful this really is. I bet she'd like to know how the Oscar's are going. 

It is reminiscent of high school, and even primary school, though my vague memory struggles to recollect that distant past. Has anyone really forgotten 'Australian History Term'? Which would have been an okay class, possibly even interesting, if we hadn't repeated it every single year for 6 (or more) years. Don't get me wrong, it is important to learn our country's history, but how dumb did they think we were? The topics were never extrapolated on, it was just awful repetitive tedium.

Equally, the history of publishing is a necessary topic in a publishing degree. Last year, the subject was actually interesting because I knew nothing about it. The point of studying, right? Learn something you didn't already know? The fact that we're 'learning' it again just bores me to tears. How can we learn something we've already learnt, anyway? And trust me, I've been listening, and I have not heard anything new. 

Hopefully it will improve. Surely there will be new facts, informative and interesting lessons, and maybe even lollipops. Not likely, given the subject is called: Introduction to Publishing. The fact that the first half of the class is in a room somewhere between a psychiatric ward and a dungeon doesn't really help. I guess I should be grateful though, we get to watch things! And they're not even boring!

(thanks to i love food and drinks for the lollipops)

Friday, February 25, 2011

a sprinkle of neglect, hold the fairy dust

I may have neglected my blog over the summer. So sue me. Right now I am struggling with the idea that there are very few things I stick with in my life. A few days ago I thought all hope was lost for me, until my phone company told me I was eligible for another service because I had been such a good and long-time customer. Sweet relief! Then I remembered I have had the same bank account for 8 years. Score so far: Me - 2, Silly Brain Ideas - 100, give or take a million. I've stuck with the same boy for nearly three years. Go me.

Yet it's all so trivial. My phone, my bank account, my car. Who cares? The problem really is, it's the things I love that I seem to neglect. How does that even make sense? I have been writing a novel for 8 years. Which looks like I've 'stuck at it'. If I had written more than 12,000 words in all that time, maybe then I could say that. But no, my pathetic 12,000 words (which is most likely an over estimation anyway) does not account for much.

I'm coming up to 22, and I'm scared. What have I done with my life? Where has it all gone? When in high school, there was always a purpose - to get out into the real world. Now I'm here, and have been for, goodness me, four years. My sense of achievement is somewhat diminished in comparison to 'formative' years.

Through these years I've tried three different degrees, and I'm now onto my fourth. At least I've finally found something I love.

I fell in love with a boy. And hasn't that been fraught with wonder and pain? Where we are now feels directionless and sometimes pointless. Again, the sense of having gone nowhere in three years. I've had some fantastic life experiences, and met some truly lovely people. I've also had some awful things happen, and met a lot of annoying folks. All part of life, right?

Yet, there's always something more. Something more I want, need, desire...whatever word it is. Something that I never seem to acomplish. It's not just the novel. The novel is the by product of this 'thing'. The novel will happen or it won't. And now I can deal with it either way. There's something else at work here, in my little brain, and I just can't figure it out.

Some sense of yearning, as though I've lost something. My emotions seem to have packed up and gone on a holiday to the Maldives, until the tears return when I chance upon the Biggest Loser. (Bizarre, right?) As for the others? Who knows where they went. I don't really remember anger, or passion. Sadness, too, has slipped from grasp. Joy, contentedness. Love; but who knows what that emotion really is anyway? I'm just a giant void of nothing that only gets touched by a show about fat people trying to lose weight.

I don't really know where this is going, but I thought it was about time I started this blog again. Maybe it will help me. God knows I need it. I guess I will end my erratic, emotional onslaught here. I'm not sure what I will do now, being home alone, thought not feeling particularly lonely. I suppose even loneliness left for the sun with the others.

Maybe I will write my novel. Maybe, instead of waiting for inspiration, I will let it inspire me. Maybe it can be something I hold to, some sense of reality.

(thanks to wisdomquarterly for the beautiful picture)