again i feel the urge to write and... i feel this pressure mounting inside my heads, the thoughts swirl ever faster, precious flashes, i know they are there, i know "this one could be something" but they're like undistinct shapes of smoke in a grey fog. if i focus on one it seems to dissolve; i know they are there, but i can't get my hands on any. my fingers are itching and eager, i set them on they keys, they wait and... nothing. it's faded into the fog again.
it's not because of the keyboard. i thought it might be that. as much as computer technology satisfies my need for expression and enables me to write what i could never say, sometimes the keyboard is just too cold and impersonal. seeing the letters on the screen one after another like beads on a string - sometimes it isn't enough. i need to see ink flow. i need to see it coming out of my hands, not out of a wire.
so i tried switching. i have a brand new and elegant pen, a gift from a friend. i have not had time to look for my black ink yet. i adore black ink. i can write really stylish if i want to, even though lately my handwriting has become a mess (i wonder if there'll come a time when people will literally forget how to write, handwrite). anyway, black ink aside, i took the one i had, the blue one. the pen flows really smoothly over the paper. i like it, it's a good pen. but still, nothing useful comes out of it.
oh well, at least i can fool myself into believing that staring at a blank paper is more romantic than staring at a blank screen. you know what i would really like to try once? a
quill. a really old fashioned, elegant black quill. and i want to write on old-style paper, too. not this chlorine bleached stuff you get in shops. and i want the writing to flow on the paper just like the owner of my quill feather floated on currents of warm air. that would be like... the ultimate orgasmic writing experience.
ps: click on image to see in original context at deviantart.com; see? i even give people credit.
yeah, that about sums it up. i worked on the catholic easter - in the idea i'd celebrate "the other one". my folks left on thursday morning. so we dyed the darn eggs on wednesday - darn cause almost all cracked. i slept through most of thursday, as i had been on nightshift. did some house cleaning on friday; then some more house cleaning on saturday afternoon; i worked on a morning shift on both saturday and sunday.
saturday was ok, as i read for most of the time and finished eldest, my easter present (that's the follow-up to eragon, in case you wonder... the book where my nick comes from). i spent easter night online. how pathetic can my life be if the best thing about easter was playing a word association game on a forum? (mind you, my partners in crime - or utter boredom - were an angel and a demon, judging by their nicks). sunday was crap. bored as heck at
work (am all fed up with downloaded heroes III maps). vacuumed my room (yeah, sinner me), then went out with a friend for a walk. we bumped into an equally bored friend of ours and a friend of his, sat on a bench in a dark park and talked about... can't even remember what.
monday morning i was back at work, thank god no one else was... to see me yawn and rubbing my eyes. there went easter... am looking forward to taking some days off and enjoy them. cause easter i definitely didn't.
i recommend early morning walks with headphones on when experiencing writer's block. it seems to be inspirational. i was walking home from work this morning at half past seven when i found myself swirling away in a quick succession of thoughts, which i hope to be able to trace back, now that i am finally seated in front of the computer. i wanted to post this blog before catching up on my sleep (and boy, do i have some catchin up to do!)
so here was i walking home, unusually early for me, headphones on. and then rednex' spirit of the hawk comes on. that song has something uplifting about it. and the (perhaps not so) strange connection my tired neurons make, in an attempt to provide imagery to sounds, i presume, is to pink floyd's take it back video. (i think it was take it back, might be learning to fly... i only saw the vid once, so correct me if i'm wrong. one of the things i have on my to do list is to catch up with the floyd discography, but that is another story).
the image and the sounds overlapped perfectly as the song went on and on... "high on a hillside, heaven above; drifting to high and low we fly away, me and my hero, me and my love"... and then came the sad part, the voice of the indian. "i am tired. my heart is sick and sad. i will fight no more." and i so feel it. i don't feel indian, i don't feel old, i don't feel wise. but i feel i have been at war for too long, and a futile war it is. however, how can i not fight? how can i stop trying to open people's eyes even when the light makes them blink? how can i stop trying to describe rainbows to blind troglodytes? how can i prove the existence of all that is good and kind, and joyous and worth living and living for to all those who prefer their dark, damp, cold and stony caves, to hide and cower in their corners, because they are afraid that sunlight will make them blink, rub their eyes and look at their lives in light? how... when i myself have a very comfortable cave indeed?
and yet... i do have my phial of light with me. i take it out in the darkest dark when i am afraid. and i look around and assure myself that the world is still there, and i am still in it and that i am ok, and that i can go out and look at rainbows. and sometimes i do. and while i may be miserable for days on end... those precious moments when i lay my head down and close my eyes and drift away in my mind... when i create my happiness for me... however short, those moments are worth dragging to a day, however miserable. and more often than not, they are less miserable than they seen, unless i myself insist on making them
so.
and here was i some posts ago complaining i am no hawk. no, i am not. i will not jump off a cliff with a firm belief that i will sprout wings. but there is something of the spirit of the hawk in me. even if it shows for just a couple of minutes at the end of a tiring day. and if a part of me can fly for a while, then the rest of me may one day follow.
well, here is the promised post about the saturday before easter. i'll try to keep it short and to the point (yeah, right). the doggies in our organisation have decided to bring the easter bunny to 23 orphan children in an orphanage some 30 km from town. so, on saturday we (four small cars of people involved in the project) arrived in the village, to one of the houses (they live in 3 separated houses) in whose yard the kids were assembled. it was a bright, warm and sunny day, as an easter day should be.
we had one of the guys dress up in a tweety costume. the bunny one had been already rented out, but the kids were delighted nevertheless. they had all written letter to the easterbunny the week before, letters who had reached us, so their presents contained what they had wished for. then we played some outdoor games with the kids. the child with the most beautiful letter from each house received a prize, so did the boy with the most honest letter (he had admitted to being bad and promised in front of everyone to better his behaviour). then each child told tweety a poem or sang him a song - the best performances in each category also received prizes. each house also received a bunny to take care of. the crowning was a huge cake with a bunny face on it.
this is to-the-fact report. the other, subjective one... is hard to put in words and would sound pathetic. those who know me know that i am not particularly fond of children. however, imagine being in an orphanage and hearing a poem about 'mother's bright face' and 'dad's embrace'. imagine
reading a wishlist from a child and expecting to find sweets and toys on it and instead finding a wish to make up with an absent mother and asking for forgiveness for whatever the fault was. i will stop here. those who have ears, shall hear. maybe they'll listen too.
ps: the pic is of the dalia, the teddy her prize for poem reciting. the boy in the background is mihai, the boy who admitted he was wrong and the girl is zena, who loves school more than holiday and wants more english classes as she loves the language.
i still owe you folks a blog about what happened on saturday. not that i really owe you ;) but i feel like sharing that fantastic day with people. i've done it with perfect strangers, so i simply cannot withhold it from you. however, right now i do not feel like it. instead, i will tell you about today (sunday, never mind how blogger dates the post. i'm up late again).
i slept for the better part of the day, as i didn't get a good night's sleep. weird dreams (i don't remember what, though), church bells and the whining of kara have accompanied me in the night. however, in the early evening i felt the need to go out. i met up with a friend of mine and we walked for a while, then we went to the mall (well, it's the closest place to me) to have a drink. i've spotted my ex as we got there, and we hailed him along. as was hungry, went to the last floor. she had a coke, he had a beer, i had a schnitzel and a coke and i insisted on paying for all. just felt like it. however, i chose the furthermost corner table to sit at, and we had an excellent panorama of the city lights.
i took part in the dragged on conversation with nearly nothing, instead i just stared at the raindrops that had started falling, drawing weird patterns on the window. it looked so cool, as more and more water slashes added to the dark blue and violet background of the night sky, drops sparkling with millions of tiny reflected lights. it was a very peaceful sight. an almost perfect
moment to capture and to hold.
the second moment came after we've said our goodbyes. i was walking home in the dark; the rain had stopped and there was a freshness in the air, like the world had just cleaned its nose and could breathe freely again. and as i was inhaling the fresh, rain-cleaned night air, it hit me. the fragrance of blooming acacia. sweet, discreet, and underlined by the tinge of rain-smell left in the air. yep, spring is definitely in the air.
yep, that's right. felt the need to write something the entire day (i am weird, no need to tell me that). i have nothing blogworthy to write about though. or nothing i would be in the mood to write anyway. for your information - i am still sick and tired of stuff, but that's no news and i know the state all too well, so all i can do is bear with me till my mood swings again *insert shrug here*. but i am even sick of talking about it so won't bother you with that one for a while. no big news otherwise, and my little neuron has gone back to slumber, so no life-changing, perspective-shifting, mountain-moving philosophy bits either (yeah, we've already sorted that out - i'm vain).
actually, i was in the mood to write a really peaceful blog. not a nice, or beautiful, or heaven forbid, a pathetic one. just a calm, settled down blog. no "loud" feelings. loud feelings tire me lately. don't know if i am making myself clear. i am too strain for any loud feelings. i need quiet ones. like when you have a headache and you find otherwise normal sounds utterly disturbing, and yearn for silence, or soothing, steady sounds to calm you. just like a sound can be loud or shrill and irritating, or calm and soothing, so can be feelings. may be gloomy for all i care, but i need them to whisper in my head, not scream.
someone called me a deep well today. they said i seem joyous and balanced on the surface, but on digging through my writings they found a disturbingly sad and hurt me lurking underneath, that doesn't show. well, it peaks out of the well occasionally, but blink and you'll miss it ;) seriously now, i know i may be more prone to melancholy than the average joe, and i know i put on a darn good show of happy-go-lucky at times, but i do not see myself like that. then again, i could hardly be objective about myself, i guess. and on the other hand, i perceive my self as a whole (we do not comment multiple wholes here ;) - relax i'm not a schizzo), as an average of the moods. could be worse, i tell you. don't make me prove it ;)
well, am not in the mood for anymore self-analysis right now (omg, i'm so egocentrical... this blog is only about me, me, me! oh, wait, it's my blog... phew, guess that's ok then). it might stir some loud feelings, and as said - no need for them right now. i just wish for calmness. that wise, condescending steadiness of an old oak, watching the storm rage around it. or of an old dog, seated calmly and looking with a knowing smile upon a bunch of puppies rolling and tumbling around. i wish for that kind of 
inner peace, that knows that all good and all bad will equally pass all around it and it will still be there, with barely a noticeable scar (ok, so it was fear that was supposed to pass and the self that was supposed to remain - can i please get away with a minor dune rip-off? thanks.). i wish upon you the peace and bliss of that wisdom. take it as an easter blessing. "may it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out."
... of always being sick and tired. well, that girl's got that one right. i am. i'm sick of tired of being sick and tired, of angst and spleen, of melancholy without (apparent) reason, of grumbling and brooding thoughts in my mind till they stop tasting anything, even bitter. and hell yeah, i even hate myself sounding like some overgrown teenager whom the world doesn't understand. guess it's the other way round anyway, it's me who doesn't understand, and the world couldn't care less.
i went to the park today to walk the dog (i feel a bit guilty for neglecting her... emotional side), thought of repeating yesterday's experience, hopefully without the old slimy guy that perturbed it. unfortunately, the darn park was packed full of old ladies and gentlemen strolling at snail speed, couples spread on all benches, mad kids racing on bicycles, even smaller kids running among one's leg till you pray you don't trip... and hysterical chicks with hysterical pekingnese dogs... you get the picture. so there go the peace and calm i hoped to find. the whole thing got even worse when a meeting with a friend of mine turned into a mutual mourning of how our lives go by and we sit and watch helplessly.
so there i go tumbling head over feet into depression. and there i go wishing there was a switch to turn off my mind, my heart, my brain or whatever organ or entity it is that keeps me thinking. for the life of me i cannot understand why i have to care so much, why words sting and glances hurt, why i am so painfully aware of things and why gloomy thoughts keep chasing each other in my mind. just for a couple of minutes i want to enjoy silence in my head. and just for a couple of days i want to be stupid, ignorant,
reckless, uncaring, take a holiday from myself, what i think, what others think, what i feel, what others feel... and be blissfully, ignorantly happy.
and then i wake up for reverie... and realise that while being me tortures me... not being me would certainly kill me. or i'd kill myself on re-becoming me after my out-of-ego trip. while rationally i know that what i have is a bliss, at times it does feel like a curse. it's the cross of the vain.
ps: this blog is by no means intended to be offensive. well... maybe it is. but not to you. stay calm.
not the movie. the sins. self-analysis coming up next. highly subjective. so sue me. below: the seven deadly sins in the order i stand accused. according to myself. definitions according to toma d'aquino and deadlysins.com.
greed - "the desire for material wealth or gain, ignoring the realm of the spiritual". i think i am the most non-materialistic person i know. i don't want things for the sake of wanting and i am completely immersed in the spiritual :). seriously now. i do want the one or other thing at times. and if i do, i work towards it. but i don't remember craving something so bad as to go out of my mind.
gluttony - "not any desire of eating and drinking, but an inordinate desire... leaving the order of reason, wherein the good of moral virtue consists". guilty as charged. damn hard to refuse a good icecream. long given up renouncing coke (yes, i am fully aware of the damage i do to myself). but i do not consider myself a real slave of the palate, so to say.
envy - "the desire for others' traits, status, abilities, or situation.". nope, most often not the case. i don't envy others for what they have and what they are, as i am mostly fully aware that it is senseless to do so, or that i can get my heart's desire. however, i do sometimes envy the ease with which some characters get what they want without apparent effort. but that immediately hauls me into another sin.
lust - "an inordinate craving for the pleasures of the body". in matters of my judging, i would be absolutely guiltless (yeah, isn't everybody?). in toma d'aquino's view... i don't indulge in bestiality and am not gay to my knowing. guilty as charged of "procuring pollution, without any copulation" and "not observing the natural manner of copulation". fancy speech, dude! have it your way.
sloth - "the avoidance of physical or spiritual work". oh, yeah, baby! funnily enough, others' reports on me on this issue vary greatly. and right they are. there are times when i embark myself on a mission, and give 150% to do it. some say i take on much more than i should. then again, there are times when i don't want to move a finger, let alone think... but honestly now... how many of you peeps out there seek out work for it's own sake... isn't that like... sick?!?!
anger - "manifested in the individual who spurns love and opts instead for fury. it is also known as wrath". guilty. i do not enjoy it, though, it means effort, and we've already agreed that i'm a sloth :). but, alas! i am angered more than i would like it. i am angered by stupidity. i am angered by narrow-mindedness. i am angered by arrogance. i am angered by what i perceive as social injustice. i am angered at myself for being greedy, gluttoneous, envious, lusty, lazy and, hell yeah! for being angry. and i presume that the fact that i mostly consider my anger justified doesn't lessen the guilt. neither does the fact that i'd oh so much rather not care...
pride - "excessive belief in one's own abilities, that interferes with the individual's recognition of the grace of God. It has been called the sin from which all others arise. pride is also known as vanity". yippppiiiieee. yes! yes! yes! guilty. even if ever so often i indulge in self-pity and i swim in low self-esteem... vanity must be it. because deeeeeeep down inside i know i am so darn better than every idiot out there who i might at times envy, because i do consider my point just and my anger justified, because i am lazy, but i think i do enough and others should do more and i could just drone on and on...
and how was pacino's line in the devil's advocate? "vanity is my favourite sin" - and tell you what - lucifer was darn right too in his vanity. why play harp with the rest of the herd when you stand out in the crowd. according to deadlysins.com, i'll be broken on the wheel in hell (so if you can't break my morally in life, you'll break me physically in death?!?!) and the sin is linked with the colour violet and symbolised by the horse. well, being in the company of a great actor as al pacino and of horses, who are such magnificent and... well, yeah, proud animals... guess it's just the place i belong :)
welcome to another incoherent rambling by yours truly. i somehow have a distinct feeling in my stomach that this is what this is going to be (see? it's already started...).
some smartass tried to be funny yesterday when i was sharing my desire to go out and be silly in the rain, pointing out the eternal 'see? that's what money and society turn us into'. thank you miss. was aware of that before i had a chance to even start dreaming. learnt it too, for four years - just how subtle it works sometimes. are you aware of the ways you are manipulated into believing things or behaving in ways? i don't claim to be; but i probably beat you at it. which is no reason for me to be glad, trust me on that one.yeah, so i am another brick in the wall. i can shout out against the system till i run out of breath - what good will it to me? it's a wall that's too good cemented together for me to have an effect. all i do is waste breath and energy that could be put to better use elsewhere - like ducking my head in and making my position in the darn wall as comfortable as possible :)seriously now, there are only two ways to break a wall. on of them it an outside force greater than the wall's resistance. not recommended. it damages most of the bricks most of the time in a brutal manner. what's the use for a poor broken brick that it's finally free of the wall, when it's been pounded to pieces? the other one... well, that's all-powerful time. time wears down any wall; unfortunately, it too gnaws at the individual bricks. ever seen a solid brick wall worn down,
overcome by the green of vegetation, of life? it just goes to show that no wall is forever, they all will come tumbling down eventually. the only question is if the walls to come are better ones for the bricks that make them up... is the white house a better wall to be in than the palace of a mayan ruler? or is st. peter's dome a better wall than the ruins of glastonbury once were?
arrived here with my inner mumblings and mutterings i started listening to 'another brick in the wall'. all three of them. "i don't need no arms around me // and i don't need no drugs to calm me // i have seen the writing on the wall // don't think i need anything at all." these ones have always stuck a chord with me, ringing so... true. if i have nothing left to long for, if i stopped longing for growth - who or what can assure me that i am still alive and not given in to my
brick nature until i have indeed turned to stone... and yet, what can a brick do, ultimately?there is something that an individual brick can do. such a simple and easy to overlook answer: grow wallflowers. concentrate on life rather than a cold wall, put forth energy in that life. the roots plants strike will be an unhoped for aid in cracking the wall and relieving some of its pressure on the bricks.
what a glorious day... finally went to school, got bored to death. i hate classes where you just make notes and the teacher drones on and on and seems to mumble a lullaby at 8 in the morning. had the laptop with me, was writing 5 seconds and taking a break of 15 till the teacher resumed. one and a half hour dragged on forever. went for
a drink with lavi, then got home to catch up on (obviously) missed sleep. it was a marvelous day, walked to work through a summer sun. when i got there my mood improved even more. listening to the soundtrack of shrek might have something to do with that :) and then... the rain started. i just felt like running out, getting myself all wet, kick up the water in the puddles... behave really silly. instead, i threw open the windows and smelled the summer. cause that was the great cause for joy: it had been raining for days, but it was grey and bleak and opressive. this was the year's first true summer rain. :) welcome.
again i feel the urge to write and... i feel this pressure mounting inside my heads, the thoughts swirl ever faster, precious flashes, i know they are there, i know "this one could be something" but they're like undistinct shapes of smoke in a grey fog. if i focus on one it seems to dissolve; i know they are there, but i can't get my hands on any. my fingers are itching and eager, i set them on they keys, they wait and... nothing. it's faded into the fog again.
