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Nov. 29th, 2007

(no subject)

I really just cannot speak today. I just feel like someones' emptied me out like a suitcase, everythings everywhere in different places and i'm too apathetic to put it back.

On the plus side, just had an interesting discussion with someone about dialectic materialism, helegian theory and hellenism. It's nice to visit philosophy every now and again, it makes me realise what my passions are. I typed up another of my poems that I wrote in a fit of essay-driven panic at PL's. It's shocking that I can't write anymore, I think I've lost it.


SHAME

Lulled by idle clocks and
Far between the lines of
anti-tapestry,
the Hourglass breaks
with her fill of forever
filtered like Headlines
and sunk like an anchor,
her human bond torn open
at the heart and walked
away by the cuffs of her valves.
The ticking talks in verse.
The soul beaded brow to brow
and the curve downturned,
she calls the watch to come,
and lulls her broken face,
and arms her aching hands.

18th Nov.

Nov. 13th, 2007

I'm going missing for a while

I've been in a little world of my own these past few days and I like the not-talking-to-people bit. Filling myself up with work to avoid the great sadness.

It's good. It's destruction and salvation and redemption and Rapture.

Nov. 5th, 2007

Je te veux

I had a dream last night about my brother and I. We were sitting, as old people, on either side of a bridge with a huge blanket stretching the length of it. Covering our knees. Gradually it started to fray, stitch by stitch pulling away from each other like opposing magnets. And I didnt even cry, my eyes wouldnt work, I couldnt find the strength to force the stitches together. He disappeared as the last thread slacked, the bridge gone and the sea below it just a huge glass stretch.

Maybe there is some truth in what people are saying about the extinction of communication between me and my family. maybe its just miscommunication, maybe the telephone poles have fallen, the postman is savagely ill and the internet has faltered somewhere along the way. Maybe they are wondering why I havent got in contact. But still it hurts, it's like a stitch being wrenched open whenever anyone talks about family. I do have one, I know that, but I wish it would be more regular, rather than being paranoid about the fact that I may or may not have seen my fathers car drive through the streets of portsmouth and the fact that I tried chasing after it so I could see the number plate.

I've gone through a period of enlightenment. Things have been solved in my head that I always needed to unwravel. I have found a piece of myself that has calmed. I realised after the last few encounters that I really didnt like men. Not in a man hater way, but that I may find them pretty, or interesting, but they don't engage me how I've always wanted. And I may have felt that I loved them but I think it's purely for their personalities, I never got on with the physicality of them as such, it felt more like routine, like a regulated thing that how it's supposed to feel. So, after many many months of thinking over in my head about this, many years of hiding behind status's and how I was expected to feel, not telling a soul, not telling myself half the time, I've finally stepped out into the world as a Gay woman. And you have no idea how much it makes me want to cry with happiness. I know my parents will probably never know, if I have to tell them I will, but I know that it's another pull away from them. I seem to be everything they oppose already so why not add another part of me for them to dislike.

I've spent the day studying Zamjatin, making endless notes, reading essays and getting thoroughly excited. I have to be socially busy tomorow so I'm savouring the day I get to myself alone.

AU revoir, sorry for the disruption in posting.

Plus I just think I heard something in the house, I don't want to say ghost as I dont believe in such poppycock but my rushed washing up may have something to do with it.

Sep. 14th, 2007

(no subject)

It's only when it reaches this time of night, when it seems the whole world is asleep that I get these thoughts. Strange thoughts. Last night I dreamt that the small cavern that leads from a cupboard in my room to the attic was filled with dead bodies and that one by one each of them came alive and drove us out, killing sophie and adrian and leaving kirsty to run away in fear, panic and general confusion. And I was left alone in this big old house as the dead sank back into rigur mortis and realising that I couldnt live here anymore packed my bags and left for a friend of mine in banstead, where it became so scarily realistic that the first thoughts that flashed through my mind when I woke was whether I was really in my room, as the curtains were tightly drawn and the walls seemed ambiguous, and that I should find a computer quickly to check K's livejournal to see if she was alright and whether she was mad because I found the house that happened to harbour the living dead. But then I heard the builders next door hammering away above me and realised that my panic attack would subside, eventually.
Now It's two am and I'm listening to music I havent heard for a long time that reminds me of a very bad time back at my old house where I would lock myself away with my laptop and ignore the world. It reminds me of February. Which is scary.
I also have to cut out the paranoia, and I feel I can talk on her openly without getting worried I have to hold back because i'm either upsetting someone or overwhelming them, because I do need to talk. I'm paranoid about the stuff the doctor is giving me. It's not making me sleep. The other one is not making me better, it's making me worse. I'm feeling something rising in me and I'm deathly scared because for the week or so where it feels fantastic I know the onslaught of consequence and the pit I sit in when I try to hide from it. I guess its good I've realised that, but I know when I wind myself up it takes a while for me to stop. I'm still convinced the doctors are unknowingly poisoning me. As I heard today from some band lyric, The only difference between Medicine and poison is the dosage.

Oh grow up woman. Go to sleep. And fucking eat something.

Sep. 3rd, 2007

In the room the women come and go, Talking of Michelangelo

So today I woke up way later than anticipated, really wanted to get more done today but I did some more painting and then had to shoot off to work for Sharon's emergency. I've been enjoying painting recently, its physically creating something, I don't even care if its any good anymore, it's fun to see where things go and my latest creation is even hanging in my study. She's all green and weird and not particularly detailed except for bizarre greyish skin tone. Her eyes and mouth and neck are all lines, her hair is one grey wisp that doesnt have much detail. I got the idea from the inside cover of Damien Rices' album 9, I just liked the simplicity of it, the expression and the dirty skin tone. The background probably doesnt even go but I had fun splotching cubes all over the background. It didnt require much thought it was just fun. It's very relaxing.
Simone de Beauvoirs' 'The Monologue' is really interesting. It's about a woman who is so used to the comforts of life and constantly being needed and appreciated that when the realisation comes, or her own paranoia makes her think this, that in fact the people she cared about didnt care about her she becomes bitter and twisted against life. The actual writing is very crude and reads on with interrupted punctuation, like one big unordered thought. As she spirals into madness the sentences get longer and full stops seem to evaporate. Its interesting to see what de Beauvoir was getting at, being given a position such as mother, or wife and then having it taken away so suddenly through death or infidelity, and she feels at a loss with what to do with herself.
I don't know what to read next when I finish all of the stories, I have loads that I'd like to.
I did get a bit offended earlier when I felt like I was boring my housemates when I watched Mastermind, we all have programmes that we like and don't like, unfortunately I enjoy this one, I like learning new stuff and answering questions when their asked. Oh well. It was only a programme.

2:23am

It's late, Very late, I don't think I've stayed up this late sober for a long time. Spoke to an old friend who tells me I seem to have aged considerably in the last 8 months, spoke to him about Jess and he just told me to learn from it and move on. I'm not concerned with finding anyone at the moment, its not the be all and end all. Sure I'll miss all those coupley things but I can live without them and maybe the absence will let me appreciate it when it does come along. I'm just going to concentrate on my reading and my studies and work on myself rather than him.
I Had another long day at work, finishing an hour and a half later than anticipated, after till broke down and we had to go on manual trade, which is definately an experience, it made me appreciate things like computers that much more. I came home, flicked on radio 4 and did the crossword, my mind was still reeling from figures and product codes that focusing it into something constructive was the only way to stop me going mad.
Last night I could barely sleep. I just kept thinking and thinking and thinking and daydreaming and having dreams which I thought were real. I even imagined the sun coming up at one point when it was about 3 in the morning. I can feel something brewing in me, and it might not be necessarily be good so I have to keep talking and keep myself busy, I cant afford to lose it and go off on one. I just dont want to upset people. I wanted to cry last night but it wouldnt come out. I don't even really know what it was about, it was a general emalgamation of things.
Tomorow I'm going to lie-in, or get up early and read. Go for a walk on the beach and then come home and finish that bloody awful painting.

Sep. 1st, 2007

(no subject)

So me and Jess aren't even friends now. He goes to patch things up in his own special way, but I learn more about his character in one evening than I ever did when we were going out. I guess you need that distance. All I remember is crying and screaming on the streets of North end trying to tell him how much my friends mean to me, and that if he loved me then he'd not take something said in jest so seriously. But its over, and though I feel some sort of weight lifted, proud of myself for sticking up for myself, for once, telling him everything I had on my mind and I really did talk, I still feel gutted because I realised how much I put into this to work and now its gone. I'd like to be friends with him, but he has too many issues to sort out that I can deal with.
I don't really know how to describe how Im feeling, Lyn tells me to write it all out, all the ideas that I have, I don't mean the creative ones, I mean the ones that catch me unawares on a bus journey home and tell me I should do something less than favourable. Not nasty as such, just silly and idiotic. I keep feelings things, I don't know how to describe it, its kind of like not quite being here, if that makes any scrap of sense. I talk to my inner voice a lot more and imagine things which could never happen. I don't know how to articulate it without feeling stupid, or annoying or attention seeking. Its just worrying me a bit thats all and I dont really have anyone here to talk to about it.
I just feel all over the place.

Aug. 31st, 2007

songs that break the heart without pity

I haven't really written for a very long time. I guess theres a lot that has gone on and a lot I'd rather forget about. I don't know if I ever mentioned Jess, the seemingly sensitive, artistic man that loved me but in the end became, or rather took off his mask to reveal an emotionally barren and narcissistic boy. We had a relationship that starts like most, full of those new romances, discovering things about each other and making plans for the future. He became the one who overwhelmed, planning ahead, declaring his love and then expecting me to return the phrase. It takes longer than that to love someone. I thought I'd fallen in love with him, but I realised how very far I had become from myself and my friends and now, though I look at him and occasionally the Jess I knew cracks out in one of his devil-may-care smiles and I feel like falling for him again, I know that particular Jess is gone. So on to new pastures. I'm not particularly looking, though the occasional glimpse has happened but I'm sensible enough not to get involved as certain factors permit me to. I know how much of a walkover I am so I'm trying to become the empowered female that I see in my other female friends who arent as doe eyed as I can be.
I've slacked in my reading, I've read only Orlando, and that was hard work, I need time ot think about it and digest it properly before I talk about it. I dont know anyone else who has read the book so I cant really talk about it. There's bound to be a forum somewhere. I'm now reading Simone DeBeavoirs' 'The Woman Destroyed', Ominous title but so far its interesting, its a series of three stories of three women with different situations. The interview in the back was really interesting too, it mentioned about her characterisation of the women in her books, that she never wanted any of them to embodie the women presented in 'The Second Sex' because that wasnt the point. I'll update you further when I've finished it. And about Orlando. And then onto catching up on my poetry books that I've bought. TS Eliot and then Swineburne on Patricias recommendation. I had a flick through earlier in Blackwells and so far I like it.
I havent really been writing, one of the bigger impact my previous relationship had on me. He just discouraged it because it was a part of my life that he couldnt understand, along with many other things that I eventually just stopped talking about. It was an awful thing to do, cover up parts of yourself but I was consumed by the emotions I was feeling with him that I would do most things to keep it that way. Now I'm not going to change for anyone. I advise my friends to kick me in the face if I do, ever again.
Life in the new house has been generally good, the house is quaint and pretty and the general dynamic of the house is going well, we havent had any major spats about anything, just the usual, where I get worried about people and ask people if they are alright too much. Which I have to stop because its annoying.
Well, I'll write more soon my dears, x

Jul. 24th, 2007

(no subject)

"Hope" is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.

- Emily Dickinson


Now it means something for me too.



Had a hard session with Lyn today, where I couldnt physically speak or breathe. Everything in that bloody letter made sense. Every word. Things were missing but all that was there was so very poignant and I wish i could tell people how I feel in the same way that that letter did. It ordered things for me. I'm getting there. I'm getting there. Now all I need is the people I care about to see it through.

Jul. 23rd, 2007

(no subject)

From now on this will be sorted. I havce to stop getting so comfortable in this life that I should not have until I've done everything I need to. I feel practically married, yet I get lonely when I don't wake up next to him. I'm going to slowly spend less time with him, or around him because otherwise things will break down with the people that I cherish. It's not that he;s bad for me, if anything, I've been happier these past few days because we've learned to handle each others low points and I'm not crying anymore. But I'm so looking forward to moving into my new house, even though some things will need to be smoothed out. I've become tidier here at J's, I don't feel like such a loose canon with things and i've got into a good routine when it comes to washing up, rather than 'leaving it til later'. So I guess I've had some off-site training, if you'd call it that. I just cant wait to move into somewhere I'll feel comfortable, I'm so excited. All the physical parts of the house can be fixed, and things will work out over time. I just need it to happen or I don't know what I'll do. I've let friends down so much recently and as harsh as it sounds it is because of him, I lvoe spending time with him but not at the cost of friends. He'll have to learn to spend a few nights without me, a few mornings without waking each other up and a few days without welcome homes. And I'll have to do without someone needing me, and taking care of them.

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