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27 February 2007 @ 03:44 am
It seems as though everyone I know has sunk into hibernation. Like we are all holding our breath, freezing out the cold, chests heaving with quiet determination, barely a smile anywhere.

I'm the same as well. Camera batteries I should have bought by now, pictures waiting to be taken. Ideas never developed. Or at least not yet.

A few weeks ago I boasted about how sleep comes easy these days. Well, look who's laughing now.

If this one certain relationship in my life was attached to one of those heart monitors, officially, it would have long been declared dead - officially.

But read between all these lines, or, who am I kidding, read the lines themselves - and you find that that hardest lessons leave a scar. The hardest ones are forcefully learned, and then relearned just to make sure you. really. got. it.

It comes from a doomed feeling that picket-fence-love is impossible. It comes from an utterly paralyzing fear of completely trusting someone (a fear that was there long before I ever met this one person).

For the longest time, I wanted to drown it out with positive thoughts. When that didn't work, I tried to marinate it in alcohol until it shrivelled and died inside of me.

Augusten says:
"I begin pacing back and forth, like a zoo animal.
'Nothing is enough, nothing is ever enough. It's like there's this pit inside of me that can't be filled, no matter what. I'm defective.'
'You're not defective. You're an alcoholic,' he says, as if this neatly explains everything."

If I was a machine, which of course we all sort of are, I would need certain things to function, and even more things to function to my utmost capability.

If my life's goal is to figure out what I need to keep the world going and make people better people and make myself better too - actually, hold that thought.. is better happy? Not necessarily, right?

Much as I've grown to love the linear - which is a whole lot - I have to admit I've been craving something offbeat. Something organic. Something off this daily treadmill time and again.

And how.

19 February 2007 @ 10:03 pm
So the time has come for certain truths.

*I may be sinking slowly. Again. A bit. I am.

*He reached out. Will it result in a relapse? It already sort of has. Every ring of the phone gets softer because the drumbeat of my heart quickens in my ears and beyond.

*There are life-preservers I reach for at times like these, when all feels lost again. I know it's not, but it FEELS like it is, you know?

What should I do.

People will know when they see this show
The kind of a guy I am
They'll recognize just what I stand for and what I just can't stand
They'll perceive what I believe in
And what I know is true
And they'll recognize I'm a one man guy
Always was through and through

People meditate
Hey that's just great
Trying to find the inner you
People depend on family and friends
And other folks to pull them through

I don't know why I'm a one man guy
Or why I'm a one man show
But these three cubic feet of bone and blood and meat are all I love and know

'Cause I'm a one man guy in the morning
Same in the afternoon
One man guy when the sun goes down
I whistle me a one man tune

One man guy a one man guy
Only kind of guy to be
I'm a one man guy
I'm a one man guy
I'm a one man guy is me

I'm gonna bathe and shave
And dress myself and eat solo every night
Unplug the phone, sleep alone
Stay way out of sight
Sure it's kind of lonely
Yeah it's sort of sick
Being your own one and only
Is a dirty selfish trick

'Cause I'm a one man guy in the morning
Same in the afternoon
One man guy when the sun goes down
I whistle me a one man tune
One man guy a one man guy
Only kind of guy to be
I'm a one man guy
I'm a one man guy
I'm a one man guy is me
14 February 2007 @ 03:47 am
"I go to the bed and sit on the edge, sinking into the plush down comforter and the featherbed below. I feel a prick of good fortune, an awareness that I am lucky to have such a nice bed to sit on during my anxiety attack. Why am I so anxious? And then it hits me. I'm not anxious, I'm lonely. And I'm lonely in some horribly deep way and for a flash of an instant, I can see how just how lonely, and how deep this feeling runs. And it scares the shit out of me to be so lonely because it seems so catastrophic - seeing the car just as it hits you. But then all of a sudden, that feeling is gone and I'm blank. So it's like a door quickly opened, just a crack, to show me what a mess I was inside. But not enough to really stare for long and absorb all the details. Just enough to know the room needed a major spring cleaning."

Sans lumiere pour une autre fois, je pense. C'est dommage, mais c'est importante, parce que j'etudie tout le monde ce soir et demain, etc etc.

Heart---->Hand.. what's the plan, what's the plan.
31 January 2007 @ 01:43 am
There is one more heartstring, at least, it seems. I felt a tug late tonight and soon enough the tears followed.
The last few times I've cried haven't been a result of sadness, exactly.. just more release.

What to do, what to do when thoughts rattle in your brain and you can taste words in your mouth that you know you won't ever say, because you can't.

When it's behind you it's still there.

Something caught in my throat as I enjoy the silence (which I truly do). Somehow the loneliest part. The wondering is gone, it very nearly, very truly is. But there's still something.

There is one more heartstring, at least, it seems.

And it's a shame.. don't even know what you're worth

18 January 2007 @ 02:21 am
Been thinking about having it both ways. Been thinking about either/or. Been brokenhearted, rose above. Been having unspeakably weird dreams. Been thinking about moving on up, might.

Need inspiration, perspiration. Garbage full of teabags. Wrapped up in books. Something you said no to with little class, something warmer.

Nights are good, days are hazy. As winter hardens on the ground, life somehow melts into a manageable size.

Been thinking about having it both ways.
15 January 2007 @ 01:40 am
Change is on the cards, but this time it will be hard

I've been reading voraciously. With my hot speed-reading skills, I can read a novel of average length in about 4 hours. During the day, I read non-fiction, whereas the night is reserved for more frothy endeavours. I will gladly take book suggestions in the comments.

I wish I had two paths that I could follow
I'd write the ending without any sorrow

There's been a lot of good lately, a whole lot of good. I can't decide whether it's me or whether karma's finally decided to give me a break. Maybe a bit of both?

My face looks like mine in every photograph. There is calm in every encounter, and looking to the future doesn't seem scary or dour all of a sudden. Nothing seems impossible, except for the bad things I've left behind.

I'm trying to get a feeling from the city
But I've been unfaithful
I've been travelling abroad

In conclusion, I like boys. And books. And soon, New York, New York, which I'll hopefully like as well.

13 January 2007 @ 04:03 am
It's occured to me that I almost never give myself credit for the things that I've learned, or the things that I do well. Like, I often give myself salon-quality haircuts. I can cheer almost anyone up out of almost any slump. My adventurous fashion sense is second to none. I have a good eye for colour and design. A good singing voice. I'm a fast reader who gives good advice more often than not.


I get so paranoid, I've got to think of warm and sunny days

I told Joy tonight how I can't believe how much I've changed in the past couple of months. Accepting life has become what I do, willingly, and not begrudgingly. I sleep enough and eat square meals with things like walnuts and avocado. I sing and laugh and have blonde highlights and crooked bangs. All things that are true.

But I also told her that I look at him and feel nothing, which while not a lie at the time, seems much less true in the afterthought. I did love him and while avoiding looking at him directly for weeks allowed me to breathe normally, I let my guard down tonight and we locked eyes across the room. When he realized I was looking at him, his eyes widened expectantly just as I turned away as though I'd been burned (which I guess I severely was, after all).

So yes, My-So-Called-Life-styles, it hurts to look at him. It also hurts not to look at him, and worst of all, not to talk to him or laugh with him. It hurts not to be close and conspiratorial. But it's still right, and that thought keeps me okay in spite of everything.
I do love him but as we get farther and farther apart, breathing gets easier still. That's alright then, right?
28 December 2006 @ 02:54 am
Tonight during my seemingly endless CD organization, I found two CDs that I thought I'd lost for good (don't ask me how CDs can simply vanish from their rightful place in my apartment - they simply DO). Ron Sexsmith's Retriever and Lupe Fiasco's Food & Liquor.

The two probably couldn't be any more different if they were Tom Waits and Weird Al (I'll leave it up to you to determine which would be which in that case), but such is my crazy, ecletic taste. Both mean the world to me, and are probably two of my favourite albums ever. They also represent two very different times in my life.

I'm very excited about the upcoming year; more than ever before, it feels like a chance to start anew.

I spent the last two nights reading Paulo Coelho's Eleven Minutes. It made me uncomfortable yet hopeful. Excited yet dejected. This part made me cry:

Everyone knows how to love, because we are all born with that gift. Some people have a natural talent for it, but the majority of us have to re-learn, to remember how to love, and everyone, without exception, needs to burn on the bonfire of past emotions, to relive certain joys and griefs, certain ups and downs, until they can see the connecting thread that exists behind each new encounter; because there is a connecting thread.

The song you should hear with that then is "Hate Then Love" by The Dears.

Good night <3
23 December 2006 @ 01:49 am
I'm a firm believer in the power of clothes. But not for everyone, for certain people who can channel and in some cases, even cultivate their specific brand of magic.

I've heard people say clothes are armor. I guess that's true in a way. Clothes are fur.. clothes are plumage. Clothes are laughter and pointed fingers. Clothes are shoulder taps and sharp intakes of breath. Clothes, in some cases, are windows to the soul.

I've developed silly secret little traditions for myself.. pants every other day. Skirts/dresses every other day. Dress down when others dress up, and vice versa.
My mom laments my love for cheap shoes but my wardrobe of glittery ballet flats and metallic Old Navy kitten heels still gets me more compliments than almost anything else I own.

My love for vintage anything will likely never die and even though I've warmed up to yellow, I'm pretty sure purple will remain my most hated colour.. reminding me of my awkward childhood self, with blue Harry Potter glasses, a too tight newsboy cap and taunts upon childish taunts.

Some things just feel RIGHT, feel like me. Sarah Slean songs, brownies and Earl Grey tea, almost anything with sparkles, two-toned hair, red and pink. Peacock feathers and silly puns. A lot of my reassurance within this crazy world comes from this self-cultivated comfort zone.

Tonight it hit like a thunderbolt. I missed him. Or, the him that he was for those few months when it was almost all rosy between us. The old apartment. Before the Prada glasses and the wine decanter. Before the designer jeans and the Jay-Z vacation. Right in between the deck with no railing (foreshadowing, to be sure) and the late-night rap video fests. For all I know, he didn't even exist in that form out loud, but I sure did dream him up in great detail then.

19 December 2006 @ 12:49 am
I've been at a loss for words. Not because things are particularly bad or particularly good, but because it all feels even. I'm all different but I'm just the same. This new year will be really significant, I think. So many seem to think so, especially lately, and I tend to agree.

It's been hard to feel Christmasy with the warm weather and shift upon shift upon shift (even with the lights and poinsetta I half-heartedly arranged in the middle of the pod). I guess in the back of my head I'm nervous about the family stuff.. fearing it'll erupt like a volcano with me right in the middle of it.

It all could be worse, though. I do have my teensy treesie:

The sweetest friends:

And I'm attempting to alleviate my consumerist guilt by making at least a few things.. and/or eating things that are made:

As some things fade, the stillness actually becomes a comfort, rather than a reminder of all the things I thought I lacked. And I feel in control.