yes, but, the problem is

the problem is, i don't hate him.
the problem is, he ticks a bunch of boxes
the problem is, on paper it looks great
the problem is he went to the right schools
the problem is, he looks after me when i ask him not to
the problem is, he knows what the done thing is
the problem is, he knows who ross edwards, or carl vine is
the problem is he will be late, but he will be there
the problem is he can't smalltalk, but will tuxedo up for me
the problem is, he likes cassis, and eiswein
the problem is, he recites iron chef
the problem is, he adores me, just badly
the problem is he loathes bad design
the problem is, he's a snob, like me
the problem is he will rescue me, even when i fight it
the problem is he always has

the problem is, i grew to love him
the real problem is, i don't love him enough.

show me yours and i'll

when you're in love...
there's this... sweet, vulnerable bit, that is the bit of you i most want to see. underneath the masks real and imagined and layers of personality... heartbreakingly tender and almost too much to bear. and too much to bare, as well... it's the bit you're terrified of showing. the deepest you, stripped of every trapping. and you hold it cupped in your heart, flinchingly showing glimpses if you dare, because you know the what if? would shatter you apart. petrified when it's seen without you realising. but melting and going weak at the knees at the same time, because the oh! what if! tastes as sweet as life itself. and that's worth everything, isn't it? show me what feels like a soul.

...you, me. same thing.

walls

Sleep takes so long to come, and then I dream. Last night I dreamt I was tied to a cold stone wall, no, nothing delightful about it, sobbing until I retched and could barely breathe. I woke up with marks from my nails in my palms. Wet cheeked, and my mouth tasting of bile.

open

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
(e. e. cummings)

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

this one. that one. maybe.

ok, so, making choices = good, but which one do you choose when all of them feel wrong? why can't i see?

thanks!

oh. when you ignore your friends and go all silent on them for weeks, turns out they worry. oops. ta.

ow

i got home early (from a shoot) today. and sat down, and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried.

i'm not sure i can do this. smile and lie for the next six weeks.it hurts.

centred...?

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

I feel like I'm losing my focus, my centre. Scattering, coming adrift. Hardly touching or connecting to anything. Losing sight of what grounds me, a centre...I'm not sure where to turn to find it again.

reading material

Adult Children of alcoholics:
guess at what normal is.
have difficulty in following a project through from beginning to end.
lie when it would be just as easy to tell the truth.
judge themselves without mercy.
have difficulty having fun.
take themselves very seriously.
have difficulty with intimate relationships.
overreact to changes over which they have no control.
feel that they are different from other people.
are either super responsible or super irresponsible.
are extremely loyal, even in the face of evidence that loyalty is undeserved.

and/or characteristics:
Difficulty with identity issues related to seeking constantly the affirmation and approval of others.
Frightened by personal criticism.
Overdeveloped sense of responsibility. Concerned about the needs of others to the degree of neglecting your own wants and needs (a protective behaviour for avoiding a good look at yourself and taking responsibility to identify and resolve your own personal difficulties.)
Feelings of guilt associated with standing up for your rights. It is easier to give into the demands of others.
An addiction to excitement. Feeling a need to be on the edge, and risk-taking behaviours.
A tendency to confuse feelings of love and pity.
Avoidance of feelings related to traumatic childhood experiences. Unable to feel or express feelings because it is frightening and/or painful and overwhelming. Denial of feelings.
Low self-esteem. A tendency to judge yourself harshly and be perfectionistic and self-critical.
Strong dependency needs and terrified of abandonment. Will do almost anything to hold onto a relationship in order to avoid the fear and pain of abandonment.
Dysfunctional relationships, denial, fearful, avoidance of feelings, poor coping, poor problem solving, afraid that others will find out what you are really like, etc.
A chameleon. A tendency to be what others want you to be instead of being yourself. A lack of honesty with yourself and others.

just some things

i bite the skin off my lips when i’m concentrating or stressed (ditto the quicks on the sides of my nails, until they bleed and i don’t notice, ugh). sometimes i think i do it ‘cos the sting keeps me awake, or alert or something.
i hold pencils between my teeth and forget they’re there until someone points them out.
i poke pens into my hair and forget they’re there until someone points them out.
i bend paper clips while on the phone and usually end up chewing on them idly (jeez, orally fixated much?)
i watch people’s hands when they speak.
i feel naked if i leave the house without earrings in (wtf)
i love the smell of snow.
i crack my knuckles.
i love the click-clonk sound of walking across a room in high heels. (i am getting more and more addicted to higher and higher heels.....hmm).
i drink too much coffee and forget to eat most of the time.
i sleep curled on my side with one arm under my head.
i am a poetry nerd; i still get a kick out of knowing something's in trochaic tetrameter. (oi vey). i like onomatopoeia, too, and words that rattle on the tongue.
oh, i like semi-colons, too, speaking of word nerdery.
i love flying (in a plane...duh). especially taking off. ooh, and turbulence. i looooove turbulence, whee!
i run my fingers along walls and railings and fences when i walk somewhere. i pick leaves off street trees and crush them to see how they smell, too.
i was terrified of skeletons when i was little. (one specific "skellington" behind my door, actually. i think it was probably so that i could con my folks into leaving the door open so’s i could listen to their conversations….brat)
i have annoying hyper-flexible muscles that stretch too far.
i doodle spirals when i'm on the phone, or listening to someone. if i'm at home and don’t have any paper i’ll usually end up with an elaborate biro-tattoo on my leg.
i like drawing on skin :)
i like stripes. stars, too, just not together.
i add things up on my fingers when i don't think not to.
i have a stationery fetish (actually, lots of journos i know do); i love the smell of something newly printed.
i fold little cranes if i find a square piece of paper.
one of my my best friends died when we were both 20. i still reach for the phone to call him. often.

you know that secret little bit that you don’t tell everyone 'cos they'd think you're a braggart, where you look in the mirror and think yeah, that's ok?
i remember...
a friend (remember george?) who used to ponce about in front of the mirror... "see, if I put a bit of meat on, and squish these (hoiks boobs) up like this, i reckon i look a bit of alright!"
you wandered around naked in my flat, marvelling at how unselfconscious you felt when you were with me.
you danced excitedly in your new dress, hugging its folds around your curves.
you giggled and showed off new underwear while we were stopped at the lights.
you stood on my balcony and sang silly ditties to me in your underwear.
you agreed with me when i said you were pretty.
when i dig underneath, i ... don’t have it. that bit. oh, i have it about work things; i'm great at my job. i'm a excellent writer (if i pull my finger out), i'm an even better COS. i can juggle stuff and deal with people. i can even say i'm good at all that with some pride, without cringing too much. there's not even a smidge of me that can do the same about how i look. just ugh, all the time. i can get by if i don’t look in mirrors. in fact...there’s not really very much of me as a person that i happily look at and think yep, that’s me, and that’s a bit of alright. i am sure there used be some.
is not very healthy. needs to be changed.

eh?

well, that was unexpected, and mildly frightening.
still, the world frightens you, so ... so what, eh? once more into the breach?
i think so :)

sometimes

i wish, i wish, i wish, sometimes, that i just did not love you so much.

what is this thing?

...that sits on my chest and makes it hard to breathe?
...that clenches my throat and pricks my eyes with tears?
...that makes me bite my lips; press nails into my hands; stifle a cry; shake my shuddering spine.

strange. when i write that down on the page, how close it looks to joy.

damn

damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn damn
damnit all

Here's what my whore escape (horroscope, too) said today. Unusually appropriate. And quite good advice. *boots self back into optimism* there. better :)
How did you end up where you are now? What choice did you make? What contract did you sign? Now, where's your get-out clause? What's the Plan B? How come, if life is supposed to be all about the exercise of free will, that you seem to face so many closed doors, done deals and irrevocable rules? A loophole in one particular law is about to reveal itself. You, though, are so caught up in what's not possible, that you may not be of a mind to recognise your opportunity when it arises. Be optimistic.

love&fear

I bought a Leunig book the other day. It fell open at this.
There are only two feelings, love and fear
There are only two languages, love and fear
There are only two activities, love and fear
There are only two motives, two procedures, two frameworks, two results
Love and fear
Love and fear

...it's good advice. Which motivates you?

blank

things have been so dark lately that i can't even bring myself to write.
and the start of the month came and went.

go west...

well, actually more technically north. next year is the year of the big trip. so say i, as of...oh, the other day. just a decision. is good to have a dream. seeing as rosalind will more than likely be going back to the motherland, among other things...it will be a good time. which means i can start planning. and thinking and ... fantasy-list making :) what to do, best case scenarios; where shall i go? who will i find? maybe even... me? :)

dramatic erratic

Borderline personality disorder, or BPD. Some or all of the following:
1. Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment.
2. A pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterised by alternating between extremes of idealisation and devaluation.
3. Identity disturbance: markedly and persistently unstable self-image or sense of self.
4. Impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging (eg promiscuous sex, eating disorders, binge eating, substance abuse).
5. Recurrent suicidal behaviour, gestures, threats, or self-mutilating behaviour such as cutting, interfering with the healing of scars, or picking at oneself.
6. Affective instability due to a marked reactivity of mood (eg intense episodic dysphoria, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely more than a few days).
7. Chronic feelings of emptiness, worthlessness.
8. Inappropriate anger or difficulty controlling anger (eg displays of temper, constant anger, recurrent physical fights).
9. Transient, stress-related paranoid ideation or severe dissociative symptoms.

again

if you miss the boat, or feel like you have, what should you do?
try and catch the same boat anyway?
or look for a new ride?

20/20

i should have left years ago. before i was so frightened of being alone.

too close for comfort

does familiarity breed contempt? i always used to think so. now i'm not so sure.
:)

hush

i...
have all these things to say
but i stay dumb
i...
have all these thoughts to heal
but they won't come
i...
have all these things to feel
but i choose numb

nothing happens unless someone pries me open. what a copout.

if i just...
stopped fighting
stopped locking doors
stopped hardening
stopped frightening.
if i just...
reach out, and touch a fingertip to yours
it might come loose.

do i dare, disturb the universe? :)

someone your own age

dammit, i really hate it when people find out my age. it's a friggin' relationship ruiner. if i was a different sort of person i'd lie. but i can’t.
first they go... "oh! that's…oh! what, really?? no? really?" for ages - took me ten minutes to convince someone the other day, "oh! but you couldn't possibly have done all the things you've done!"...umm, ok...would you like me to make up a different number?
then they spend the rest of the interaction being surprised and amazed and bringing it up. or depending on the person, you can feel them drawing back their feelers like a frightened snail. and i feel like a fraud, as though i've been pulling the wool over their eyes all this time when we've been having this amazing connection, cause how could i possibly? being such a babe? sigh. not my fault i connected.
and then i get paranoid about being patronized, even if they do it just the tiniest bit. ok, so that’s an achilles heel of mine, but i can’t help it. it makes me so mad. workwise it shits me, too - sure, age might equal wisdom, but there's no correlation that means i can't actually do the job. proof of that is in, er, being able to do the damn job, surely.
oof. so most of the people i actually enjoy talking to, being with, or who i have to deal with on a work day are older than me. so?? i tend not to even ask; why does it matter? i always feel a bit like saying, how about you swap 'young' for 'women' or maybe even 'black'? then you might see how i feel. "oh! really? you achieved all that stuff? but you're a woman!! gosh!"
sigh.

That Call

i'm terrified that one day i'm going to get That Call. it keeps me from sleeping, sits in my guts like dead ice and makes my stomach roil. it keeps getting closer and more likely; these days i tense when the phone rings. sometimes when i do sleep, i dream about it coming, hearing the words and staring in shock, or crumbling into a ball. not weeping, though; that's never inside the dreams. i save that for sitting on my steps and staring at the stars and feeling frustrated, and a very long way away ... and like i can't do anything. but i can't not try. you're damned either way.
after those dreams i wake up tearful, but it's not for That Call, it's for the guilt; hating my subconscious for creating, for wishing it would happen. how could i possibly?? that's evil! because...that's movement. of some kind. change. just anything to break the cycle. i'd stop being frightened, at least. something. anything.
but gods, that's a horrible thing to wish. like i need another reason to get all self-hatey on myself. ugh.
there must be something i can do. there will be. it will come to me. i hope it comes before the call.

bad idea

ever get that feeling you're going to go right ahead and do that thing anyhow, every though it's really, actually, a pretty bad idea? yep. that'd be me. gut feeling? what gut feeling? i can deny anything, i've had years of practice :)

stories

it's funny how ... the stories that you tell are the ones from ages ago. the ones i tell are, anyway. not sure if things seem better through the handy rose the-past lens. or if there's nothing i've done in the last few years that seems interesting. or that i'm proud of. or that i want to admit into the... um, life canon of me. the dinner-party-story version you tell to other people.
if i had to tell the stories of the last 12 months, what would they be? what would i admit to? what would i be proud of? would there be anything?
maybe things need to sit in my head and percolate for a while before i know what they mean, and can articulate them? in the overall lifeline. but that's s sort of rewriting history, and rewriting the way i want me to be.

it doesn't matter.

don't ever say it doesn't matter. i remember my mother crying one morning. and telling me that. don't ever say it doesn't matter. because it does matter, it really does.
but it's such a salve. how on earth can we possibly face the next day? how at all? by it doesn't matter. move on, brush over, look, over there, shiny. that's easier to face than impossible change, or total gloom. up and at 'em, a new day's dawning. time to pretend it doesn't matter.
but it does.

and sometimes, people don't suck.

today was a good day.
it is a good thing to surround yourself with people you love.
it is a good thing to:
reach out;
and ask what you'd like to be asked;
and laugh;
and listen;
and remind them that you love them.
today was a good day.

sigh

oh, i miss girls!

nada?

coming home felt...nothing.
not happy, not sad. not angry. not ecstatic.
just...nothing.
like going back into suspended animation again.
weird.

trap'd

i used to work in radio
now i can barely stutter a sentence

i used to play for a living
now i can hardly scratch out a scale

i used to sing all the time -- god! remember? we used to sing at parties, for events, people would ask us to sing, to arrange things. we sang a parody in front of a thousand people.
and laughed.
now i can't even raise my voice at home. alone. in my own house. anywhere. i just choke.

why????

so i sang myself to sleep. poor, rusty chords :)