A girl lies in bed, savouring the dream she is having. Such a beautiful, comfortable, happy dream. Such a beautiful, comfortable, happy bed. Somewhere in the house a door slams. She is disturbed slightly, rolls over, and goes back to sleep.
Happiness is waking up and being fully confident you can sleep again.
Another dream starts; this sleep is like a fabulous marathon at a cinema where everything is bean bags and you can choose the movies and little penguin waiters bring you any food you like and tell you that you are not fat at all so help yourself.
The dream progresses, the bed is warm, the girl is snuggles. Somewhere far off, a telephone rings.
Somewhere, a little way off, a telephone rings.
Somewhere around, a telephone rings.
Somewhere near by, a telephone rings.
Somewhere really fucking close, a telephone rings.
In her dream, the girl starts to get mildly irritated, for some reason. Why does happy happy joy joy dream make the ANGRIES??
Her eyes snap open. Or rather, they creak open and blink a lot. Ring, ring.
"BLARGH?!?!?!" Speech centres not fully activated.
ring ring!!
"oh blargh phone! They'll blargh give up soon..."
RING RING.
"surely they'll realise blargh... idiot blargh people... mmmmm blargh bed is cosy"
RING RING RING RING RING RING RING RING RING RING RIIIIIIIIIIIIING
"FUCK BLARGH OFF!!"
ring ring ring ring ring ring ring....
"Curse our lack of answer blargh machine!!
ringy ringy ring ring!!!
"I suppose I should answer blargh, it might be one of my blargh parents calling about a blargh emergency"
ring ring ring.
The half asleep girl trundles into the other room on a freezing cold floor, kicking her already injured injuries as she goes.
"blargh-lo"
"Hello, I'm an obnoxiously bright and cheery ladyvoice, broadly smiling cos Life Is Swell!! Is this Paper Plus??"
The girl takes some time to process. Paper Plus?? The STATIONERY shop?? No... last time she checked she did not sell stationery. But still... you never can be sure of much these days.
"um....blargh.... no??"
"Oh!! The realisation of my wrongness makes me sound even more chipper still!! Tinkly laugh at my mistake!! Jolly jolly hahaha!! I have the wrong number!! Good bye!!" beep beep beep beep beep
"BLARGH. Good bye, fucking exclamation mark blargh lady"
Now the girl was Up and Somewhat Awake, she discovers her cat has left a present in the night behind the TV. And not the cute "I brought you a dead mouse, aren't you proud" kind of present either.
She runs to smug-looking bitch of a cat, picks her up, shows her the error of her ways, and throws her out the cat door (which cat should have used in the first place and she Knows Much Better Than That). Mid-flight, cat extends claws and scratches girl's wrist. Touche, cat. You win this time- but I have full control of the food cupboard.
Time for breakfast. Whilst toast is toasting and coffee is coffeeing, still-sleepy girl decides now would be an excellent time to put entire contents of 40 litre rubbish bin, which includes rotting fruit, into rubbish bag all neat and tidy like. She holds bag over top of bin and tips bin upside down.
Rubbish tumbles majestically away from hungry mouth of bag, and makes spectacular landing all over recently mopped kitchen floor.
Circumstances allowing, Girl discovers that it IS perfectly alright to cry whilst bleeding, waiting for toast, amid a rubbish dump, a mere 15 minutes after getting out of bed.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
The Super Secret Club that everyone knows about
I've recently had to face a lovely, beautiful, yet soul-destroyingly distraught friend of mine in a really tough situation. She is the girlfriend of a guy who is also very close to me, but as far as maturity in relationships go, they are on different planets. She does not understand the concept of "if you don't respect yourself, nobody else will". Or reaching a compromise for the sake of the person you love. She believes all she does is make mistakes, and all he does is be embarrassed by her.
What do you do when you a love a person so badly, but feel like all you do is fail them?? She has reached the self-sacrificing stage, or "I don't deserve him- he is better off without me, all I do is hurt him". She does not understand the concept of a making a change for the better without giving up your ideals. Not changing who you are as a person, but allowing your loved one see yourself objectively and letting them help you mould yourself into an even more awesome person than you already are.
So I just spent 2 hours with her crying her eyes out, and I find this in my morning emails, my daily beautiful CDF newsletter:
The blurb that went with it says:
"The truth is that there is no cost to loving in a healthy relationship. The 'apparent' cost only brings the loving individual more by growing in a thousand ways that they could never anticipate.
John Welwood writes poignantly on the subject and talks about the transformative power of relationships. We all understand the idea of romantic love, but the power to change and grow through love is a way to discover our true nature.
Paradoxically, through loving we discover our own humanity, we grow and can begin to figure out who we really are.
Yes, Love without fear, regardless of cost."
Sometimes God, the Universe, the Great Cat in The Sky or whoever you believe has their finger on the pulse just provides, in the form of amazing people you've never met.
Once again I am unashamedly plugging Hugh Macleod because he has saved my soul from torment. Watching my friend go through what she is going through is only bringing back terrible, heart-wrenching memories of my own experience. I have tried to say Wise Older Person Things to her but I know it is futile- when you have crossed the border of the Land Of No Return, nothing can save you except yourself. You're on your own in that dark and dreary minefield. I have to watch her go though this process and look back into my past and watch myself at the same time, when rather I wish I couldn't. It's impossible not to draw parallels, the recipe is the same. The outcome may be (I desperately hope for her sake) different, but the journey, that ugly awful journey, is almost a rite of passage everyone has to go through before they can reach the that Upper Plane of Wisdom.
You can tell upon meeting a person if they have had their heart broken and rebuilt. The fresh, sparkly gleam in their eyes is gone, replaced by a dull yet defined shine, the shine that has been attended to and polished but which cannot hide the cracks and mended places. When everyone discusses and gives opinions on what John should do about Mary, they stay quiet and listen with that patient look on their face, and you know they are a fellow member of the Club. The all-knowing and wise club of people that have experienced how life fucks you under, over, and all around town and regardless of any Plan you may have, it comes like a tidal wave and you're powerless. You can't, however, simply explain to a person about this if they are not in the Club. Experience is our leader. Initiation is an individual process not chosen by the individual. There's no grey area, either it's happened or it hasn't.
As I type this she is in our shower with her music going, wailing at the top of her lungs. I am ready to throw up or stab myself. The pure pain behind that noise is something I know all too well and would not wish on my worst enemy. I have to let it happen, though. I have to let her do this. It's a minefield tidal wave situation.
Another recruit for the Club.
What do you do when you a love a person so badly, but feel like all you do is fail them?? She has reached the self-sacrificing stage, or "I don't deserve him- he is better off without me, all I do is hurt him". She does not understand the concept of a making a change for the better without giving up your ideals. Not changing who you are as a person, but allowing your loved one see yourself objectively and letting them help you mould yourself into an even more awesome person than you already are.
So I just spent 2 hours with her crying her eyes out, and I find this in my morning emails, my daily beautiful CDF newsletter:
"The truth is that there is no cost to loving in a healthy relationship. The 'apparent' cost only brings the loving individual more by growing in a thousand ways that they could never anticipate.
John Welwood writes poignantly on the subject and talks about the transformative power of relationships. We all understand the idea of romantic love, but the power to change and grow through love is a way to discover our true nature.
Paradoxically, through loving we discover our own humanity, we grow and can begin to figure out who we really are.
Yes, Love without fear, regardless of cost."
Sometimes God, the Universe, the Great Cat in The Sky or whoever you believe has their finger on the pulse just provides, in the form of amazing people you've never met.
Once again I am unashamedly plugging Hugh Macleod because he has saved my soul from torment. Watching my friend go through what she is going through is only bringing back terrible, heart-wrenching memories of my own experience. I have tried to say Wise Older Person Things to her but I know it is futile- when you have crossed the border of the Land Of No Return, nothing can save you except yourself. You're on your own in that dark and dreary minefield. I have to watch her go though this process and look back into my past and watch myself at the same time, when rather I wish I couldn't. It's impossible not to draw parallels, the recipe is the same. The outcome may be (I desperately hope for her sake) different, but the journey, that ugly awful journey, is almost a rite of passage everyone has to go through before they can reach the that Upper Plane of Wisdom.
You can tell upon meeting a person if they have had their heart broken and rebuilt. The fresh, sparkly gleam in their eyes is gone, replaced by a dull yet defined shine, the shine that has been attended to and polished but which cannot hide the cracks and mended places. When everyone discusses and gives opinions on what John should do about Mary, they stay quiet and listen with that patient look on their face, and you know they are a fellow member of the Club. The all-knowing and wise club of people that have experienced how life fucks you under, over, and all around town and regardless of any Plan you may have, it comes like a tidal wave and you're powerless. You can't, however, simply explain to a person about this if they are not in the Club. Experience is our leader. Initiation is an individual process not chosen by the individual. There's no grey area, either it's happened or it hasn't.
As I type this she is in our shower with her music going, wailing at the top of her lungs. I am ready to throw up or stab myself. The pure pain behind that noise is something I know all too well and would not wish on my worst enemy. I have to let it happen, though. I have to let her do this. It's a minefield tidal wave situation.
Another recruit for the Club.
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
Memo!!
After viewing photos of myself from today, have decided that a) am never wearing that pair of jeans again (despite them being my ONLY pair...), b) am getting liposuction (read: kitchen knife after many whiskeys) on triple chin, c) must make more effort not to look like a lesbian (because I am not one) (goes hand in hand with item a), have decided pants are bad news, must invest in dresses pronto) and d) am totally sick and tired and miserablefied of face, neck, arms, and generally anything that is not my feet.
I still like my feet. They're nice.
Note to self. Hide under bed, in tall boy, up chimney, behind cat, in TV, on roof, or any other place not generally inhabited by homo sapiens until half of self has melted under fire of sheer resentment. Then may rest of self enter civilisation and keep sense of decency and dignity, without pretending or avoiding eye contact with other selves for fear of blown cover and being exposed.
That is something best left to happen in the dark.
I still like my feet. They're nice.
Note to self. Hide under bed, in tall boy, up chimney, behind cat, in TV, on roof, or any other place not generally inhabited by homo sapiens until half of self has melted under fire of sheer resentment. Then may rest of self enter civilisation and keep sense of decency and dignity, without pretending or avoiding eye contact with other selves for fear of blown cover and being exposed.
That is something best left to happen in the dark.
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
Am I scientific genius??
Is there a measurement of darkness??
Toda I was walking around the house, at approximately 3 pm, acutely aware that every room I walked into required a great deal of squinting, and consequently fumbling for the light switch, on my part. So I thinks to myself, I thinks: "wow it must be at least... *blank search for word that conveys high amount of darkness in proportion to light, fail miserably, decide to continue with sentence anewa* ... really dark degrees in here!!"
Whilst chastising myself for saying something as retarded as "really dark degrees", even in my own private head, I am left wondering if there is such thing as a form of measurement for darkness. There is temperature degrees, and wind speed, and pressure... thingy, and humidity percentage, but what about light or the absence thereof?? I am vaguely aware that there is such thing as "candle power" and I'm pretty sure that guy Watt lent his name to something but I think that has something to do electricity... which is not what I'm talking about.
I'm talking about "Hey- there's a crapload of clouds in that there sky. The sun's light, therefore, has been filtered and diluted, and has hereby minimised the amount of natural illumination available for the normal daylight hours that people usually like to do stuff in".
So if the day, which is generally sposed to be not dark, IS dark, how does one convey that to one's peers a bit more professionally than saying "it's a wee bit dark"?? Here is an example conversation which could happen (for science's sake, I'm going to invent a measurement of light. It will be called "Fules"):
*ring ring*
"Hello?"
"Hi Arnar, it's me, yore beloved"
"Oh hi beloved!! What's the happy haps??"
"Well, I was wondering what you were up to on this lovely fine da"
"I'm inside with all the lights on, it is not a Lovely Fine Da where I am!!"
"Oh, pra tell, why is that??"
"It's only 20 Fules here!!"
"Orly?? It's at least 80 Fules here!!"
"Crazy!! So how's yore mater??"
"My mater is pretty sweet. How's yore mater?? I have been wondering about her face."
I won't continue with the rest of the conversation because it got private.
The moral of the story is that there should be words for things that there aren't words for because it can make for some very awkward conversations with yoreself whilst you are in the shower.
Toda I was walking around the house, at approximately 3 pm, acutely aware that every room I walked into required a great deal of squinting, and consequently fumbling for the light switch, on my part. So I thinks to myself, I thinks: "wow it must be at least... *blank search for word that conveys high amount of darkness in proportion to light, fail miserably, decide to continue with sentence anewa* ... really dark degrees in here!!"
Whilst chastising myself for saying something as retarded as "really dark degrees", even in my own private head, I am left wondering if there is such thing as a form of measurement for darkness. There is temperature degrees, and wind speed, and pressure... thingy, and humidity percentage, but what about light or the absence thereof?? I am vaguely aware that there is such thing as "candle power" and I'm pretty sure that guy Watt lent his name to something but I think that has something to do electricity... which is not what I'm talking about.
I'm talking about "Hey- there's a crapload of clouds in that there sky. The sun's light, therefore, has been filtered and diluted, and has hereby minimised the amount of natural illumination available for the normal daylight hours that people usually like to do stuff in".
So if the day, which is generally sposed to be not dark, IS dark, how does one convey that to one's peers a bit more professionally than saying "it's a wee bit dark"?? Here is an example conversation which could happen (for science's sake, I'm going to invent a measurement of light. It will be called "Fules"):
*ring ring*
"Hello?"
"Hi Arnar, it's me, yore beloved"
"Oh hi beloved!! What's the happy haps??"
"Well, I was wondering what you were up to on this lovely fine da"
"I'm inside with all the lights on, it is not a Lovely Fine Da where I am!!"
"Oh, pra tell, why is that??"
"It's only 20 Fules here!!"
"Orly?? It's at least 80 Fules here!!"
"Crazy!! So how's yore mater??"
"My mater is pretty sweet. How's yore mater?? I have been wondering about her face."
I won't continue with the rest of the conversation because it got private.
The moral of the story is that there should be words for things that there aren't words for because it can make for some very awkward conversations with yoreself whilst you are in the shower.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Peas be with you, and also with you.
My mother and stepfather popped round this afternoon, and I got such a fright. I had just settled down with some food and wine on the couch and for some reason was totally confused as to why they were on the doorstep so they pretty much invited themselves in while I stood there saying "...okay...". They then proceeded to boil the jug while deciding they didn't actually want a cup of tea.
I had half a glass of wine left in the bottle and instead of pouring it in the kitchen, I took it to the table with me. Maybe I thought it would make a nice centrepiece, I don't know. When my stepdad walks in, he glances down at the empty wine bottle, looks at me being all confused and spaced out at their presence, and says "so how long since the stress stopped?". Awesome. I can just hear him sayng to my mum at home "does Anna drink alone often?". Him studyng psychology and having had problems with alcohol in the past, he's probably gunna stage an intervention.
Mum kept asking me questions that she knew the answers to and questions that I didn't. After they left I felt incredibly tired. It was probably that halfglass.
In other news, I am continuing to possibly Achieve at Life. Toda, I tidied and cleaned half of my room. Literally half. You can see equatorial dust mark. I also shared a Moment with a lady walking past on the footpath, and rescued my peas.
I had half a glass of wine left in the bottle and instead of pouring it in the kitchen, I took it to the table with me. Maybe I thought it would make a nice centrepiece, I don't know. When my stepdad walks in, he glances down at the empty wine bottle, looks at me being all confused and spaced out at their presence, and says "so how long since the stress stopped?". Awesome. I can just hear him sayng to my mum at home "does Anna drink alone often?". Him studyng psychology and having had problems with alcohol in the past, he's probably gunna stage an intervention.
Mum kept asking me questions that she knew the answers to and questions that I didn't. After they left I felt incredibly tired. It was probably that halfglass.
In other news, I am continuing to possibly Achieve at Life. Toda, I tidied and cleaned half of my room. Literally half. You can see equatorial dust mark. I also shared a Moment with a lady walking past on the footpath, and rescued my peas.
I Can Has?
Kate the Kat is all bundled up between my legs
_________________________________
that was your moment for crude dirty jokes, moment over, moving on. She's so amazing and if she could talk I'm pretty sure she'd have a helluva lot to sa and we'd be BFFs.
I am currently under the impression that I may be slightly Achieving at Life. I am not so much Failing anymore, however I would not venture so far as to sa Winning. Of course, this could be one of those situations in which I have deluded myself into believing something which is not an actual truth through the little whisperers that whisper, then when they go for smoko the reality of It All comes crashing down around the ears they were trying to preserve and the eyes widen and the pupils dilate and I'm once agane all over the shop.
The point IS, most of the time I prefer being divorced from reality. The side effects include confusion, shock, and paranoia... but at least I can escape.
_________________________________
that was your moment for crude dirty jokes, moment over, moving on. She's so amazing and if she could talk I'm pretty sure she'd have a helluva lot to sa and we'd be BFFs.
I am currently under the impression that I may be slightly Achieving at Life. I am not so much Failing anymore, however I would not venture so far as to sa Winning. Of course, this could be one of those situations in which I have deluded myself into believing something which is not an actual truth through the little whisperers that whisper, then when they go for smoko the reality of It All comes crashing down around the ears they were trying to preserve and the eyes widen and the pupils dilate and I'm once agane all over the shop.
The point IS, most of the time I prefer being divorced from reality. The side effects include confusion, shock, and paranoia... but at least I can escape.
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