lifewrecked

Some might argue that it is too early for me to be old and they'd be right. On the other hand, thirty two might as well be halfway to death, for all I know. And when you're halfway there, you're usually not livin' on a prayer, as the song goes, but rather living at a good point in time to look back, draw a line and check the direction you're heading.
There are lucky people out there who can nod satisfied and keep moving in the same direction. There are less lucky people who will frown and decide they need to adjust their course. And then, there are special people (and I've always considered myself rather special) who will look and look and look really hard again in order to figure out what their direction actually is, before realising they are pretty much adrift. It's not exactly shipwrecked, but it would be, if life were an ocean. Is lifewrecked a word? It should be.
And what the hell do you do when there's no wind in your sails and you have no clue as to where you should be rowing? How do you resist the temptation of closing your eyes and letting the currents take you to where the devil may care? How do you fight the numbness and indifference?
I can't motivate myself to anything without some real-life carrot to tie in front of my nose and I have no carrots whatsoever. I'm pretty sure diving in make-believe realms in one's own head is not the healthy way, but between controlled fantasy and uncontrolled depression, what would you pick?

image source

shadow of fear

I have been living in the shadow of fear my entire life. It sounds like a truism and maybe it is. It also sounds a bit cliché and I suppose it is that, as well. I've had a good childhood and a good life. I still do. I have a loving family, I have great friends and a good job. I earn well, I get to travel and go to concerts and read good books and everything is swell. And still, the shadow looms. It creeps in at night and echoes my every thought.
I've been afraid of failing ever since I can remember and I know most people have been or are in some form of another, though I doubt that for many that fear has stopped them dead in the tracks from any change in their lives, from taking any chance at all at being who they want to be or doing what they felt like doing.
I've been punished maybe twice in my life for doing something bad, but I've carried this fear of doing something wrong around forever. Maybe that's why I haven't done much wrong, which ironically negates any pride I might take in it - I strongly oppose fear as a motivator. And if all I've ever done right came out of fear, here I am wondering what sort of person I am and where would I be if I had more guts, at a point in life when most people have everything more or less worked out.
And also, here I am, walking down the beaten path. Breaking down in frustrated sobs at the realisation that it is this fear of disappointing others, of not living up and of rejection that paralyzes me like the fabled deer in the headlights. The usual encouragements and pats in the back just add another brick of potential-guilt-if-I-fail to carry, because they are no more than confirmations of expectations. And the sheer fact that I understand and rationalise this and that I am yet stuck in inaction just serves to measure the dimension of that fear. I cannot struggle with it, so I bow to it. Kicking and screaming on the inside.

labels

Isn't it funny... how we all flare up when we feel people apply labels to us. Yet we do the same with obstinate masochism. We view ourselves in labels and strive hard to behave accordingly and get all messed up in the head when we don't. We are honest, therefore feel horrible when we lie. We are straight, so heaven forbid we might feel attracted to someone of the same gender. We know good music, so the latest Gaga song is just a guilty pleasure 'cause it's so damn catchy. We're into artsy fartsy movies so that last stint to see Thor was just for laughs. We're libertarians, so we agree with that conservative point of view only because they sold it so well to manipulate us. We are free thinkers, so blame that last prayer on a socially conditioned response in high stress situations.

The only label that covers us all is human. We love and long for the things that make us happy, whether it's other people, our chosen forms of entertainment or opinions that match our own. We just strive to vibrate on the same wavelength and make it all so complicated by formulating rules and labels where there are none...

stuck in a rut, stuck in a rut, stuck in a rut

this is so absurd. the fact that it's almost 7 am and i am still up is also absurd. i've been trying to go to sleep, twice until now and i got up every time. i've even considered getting some professional help... for about two minutes. because i pretty much know the roots of all these doubts, just as well as i know where these bouts of depression stem from. and i also know darn well that there's nothing anyone except myself can do about it and i also pretty much know what it is. so why should i spend the money, the time and the effort to even ask. god, i miss my childhood. bit of it. i have some very clear images burned in my mind that i miss dearly... and some dull memories of stuff i wish to hell, too. and i can see it so clearly, the traces some of those totally insignificant moments left... and when i think back on those things... it's like watching a movie that you know, and every time you know something bad is going to happen you just want to shout "NO!". and even in present, i watch 'myself' like in the movies. i watch with lofty detachment how i slowly self-destruct myself. not by actually doing anything... but by not doing anything. anything for myself. i ruin my body and my psyche and at the same time i just sit by and watch... and sometimes shrug... and from time to time, i snarl at those who point that out, or even worse, mean to help. and i make sure to push them all away so i can watch myself letting myself go to hell by not doing anything about it, like i'm someone i don't give a damn about. and i am. this is plain sick...

not to touch the earth...

this has been a blog long in the making. both because i hate the content (but need to get it out) and because it's kind of hard to somehow bring cohesion to what i mean to write. i know what it is but it's rather intuitive perception and knowledge. i can't quite grasp it and thus i'm a bit at a loss regarding the wording. (ps: which kind of explains why it took me several attempts at starting it, ending in the change of layout for the blog if nothing else much and then a couple of days to actually finish it, after almost a month of brewing it)

for those who don't recognise the (by now probably boring to be used in the title) pop culture reference, it's a song by the doors. not to touch the earth, not to see the sun, nothing left to do but run, run, run.

------

i might have dropped a line or two before about this online game i've been playing for a while now, tribal wars. as circumstances would have it, i found myself in the position to fight rather fierce defensive battles on behalf of a couple of friends while sitting their accounts. because they claim i am such a top defender. i still laugh that off as a poor joke and consider that what has "earned" me that appreciation was nothing more than a fluke, a stroke of luck. being online at the right time, having more time and more patience than my attackers and no other big deal. still, the 'title' has somehow stuck. as said, i was laughing it off until some while ago when, having nothing better to do than brood on my own thoughts, something struck me.

back in the sixth and seventh grade, during sports class i wouldn't play volleyball with the girls, but football with the boys. and guess what position i was playing? bingo! goalkeeper. a pretty decent one. until we had a match with a team of tenth graders and i decided to defend a shot... which hit me straight in the stomach. then i finally switched. to volleyball. where... need i mention it? i had a rather good service shot but where i really felt and did best was... well, obviously defending.

and all these half serious half playful activities would still mean nothing had i not also remembered a line my mother used on several occasions. all of which were arguments. or rather, her saying something and me snapping. and that line she threw in was "stop being so defensive!". and you know what? i am. constantly.

i'm self-conscious on the brink of paranoina (like... if people look at me more then two seconds on the street i get the feeling i'm running around with my jeans zipper open or so, even if maybe they just read the inscription on my t-shirt); i snarl at whoever crosses my lines (which i never draw clearly - because they aren't - or bother to point out); i don't socialise beyond the point of meaningless chatter and that only when i have to and i most certainly don't bond too much or too easy and at some point i always end up screwing it up big time. i pretty much suck at building and maintaining relationships so i don't even try in the first place; so i kind of keep away from people or rather keep people away from me; i use irony as a pretty efficient weapon to that end (or rather, an extremely efficient one) and a certain wittiness to build an appearance of confidence that flashes out (or should...) "do not trespass". and all this to protect a solitude that i both cherish and dread; that i don't want to give up and that gets me depressed at the same time... and that i run back to whenever defense breaks down.

because in the end, defense always breaks down. it's a rule. however, what they didn't say in the technical notes was that in time, it'll happen to crack more and more often. ever so often i find myself running. i don't know why or from what or who. probably from myself. the last long distance run started around a month or so ago... and i'm still catching my breath from it, so to say.

i spent easter and the day after at work in a pretty much deserted building with instant messaging broken down and most people i talk to away. well, people out there actually do have a real life, as opposed to me. i took off the next week to... well, in the end do nothing. i wanted to get away. i was planning on a trip but in the end was too lazy to take it. so i spent a whole week at home, sleeping, cooking and playing games. offline or invisible, mobile on silent and not being paid attention to. i found out at the end of the week that they've been looking for me from work the entire week, calling everyone they knew and inquiring about me. i haven't even counted the missed calls or the offline messages.

i went back to work in the meantime, am working ever since... but i still miss that trip i never took. i miss last year's skipped holiday and i miss the reason why i skipped it. i still dream about her, and not the way i'd like to. i miss talking to people, but it feels odd to just walk into their virtual lives again like nothing happened. odd and ruthless, as ruthless as was walking out without a word. something did happen and i don't know what myself so i can hardly provide a satisfactory explanation. the best way i can put it is that i just broke down, exhausted from running. though to me that sounds overly dramatic... like requiring medical help or so. i don't. i just needed to seal myself off in my bubble, the only thing that could help me short term, and hurting me a bit more long-term, cutting off another thread - even temporary - that binds me to what is usually defined as real life. people say that's bad and i tend to agree that it's not healthy... though i am not quite sure why...

wormy apple

that's me. i just love metaphors. don't you?

well... i've been... nowhere, i've done... nothing. or rather, i'm still here, killing off my time as i always do. thing is, the couple of times when i felt like blogging, all i could come up with is kara, how much i miss her and how much it still hurts that she... just doesn't exist anymore. but that's become sort of a private thing now, too private even for this blog.

so... no, that is not why i got up in the middle of the night to ramble pointlessly about in yet another blog too complicated for anyone but me to follow. this is about the single most important thing in the world - me. myeah. don't you just love it how i can come across as the ultimate arrogant asshole? i do. sometimes i wish that was all there is. but there's more to this apple than the shiny peel :(.

they should ban self esteem problems. they should be illegal or something. or they should file them under diseases. at least they'd lock me up in some fine and private place to keep me safe from myself. someone once told me i hate myself. i don't think i do. hate is a passionate feeling, i wouldn't put so much energy in it. i don't despise myself either - that too would mean caring in some twisted sort of way. i just... look at myself and shrug. wishing i wasn't there, wishing it wasn't me, wishing i wasn't like that... you name it.

as much as i pat myself on the back, as much as i'd like to hug myself on some rare occasions... on the whole and altogether i don't give a shit about myself. cuts on the arms, suicide letters, that's emo crap for disturbed teens. i find other, more subtle means to hurt myself, by not caring. stuff like not getting a haircut though it's overdue and not going to the doctor's when i feel something is wrong and keeping on drinking coke when i know exactly how bad it is for me. and most of all, not giving a shit about my own company. in fact, finding it undesirable enough to seek refuge in other worlds and to shut it away from others. because i do not believe anyone would want its company. because anytime someone claims or act like they do in some sort of way, i either get suspicious of them 'wanting something' and sucking up or if i know/believe them persons of good will, i think them seriously mislead by some shiny appearance i uphold and to which i know i will eventually fail to rise up to.

normally, i am quite successful at keeping people away. i've been called a turtle or a hedgehog numerous times. i restrict access to neutral areas and to safe worlds. the downside of it is that i occasionally slam the door in the face of the above named possibly good willed people when they, more or less intentionally, try to peep behind the screen or give some sort of reality to a personna. my spikes go up automatically when i need to give out addresses, phone numbers - if they're a must i stick to messaging -, real names, pictures and when asked personal questions - anything that would make me identifieable in the real world... that would turn the personna in a person, because i wouldn't wanna meet the person and thus i don't want anyone else to. which, i am quite aware, is a silly and at times rude behaviour. it serves the higher purpose of keeping me safe from other and the others safe from me. in a way, it is a means of showing straight away that i'm a bitter apple, in spite of whatever shiny peel appealed to them. why let them bite peacefully and after a couple of mouthfuls discover the worms inside? or... that's what i keep telling myself.

well... so much for wallowing in self pity on early mornings, half-awake O_o.

goodbye to you, my trusted friend...

and a long over due blog it is, too. i meant to do it right then, but it was just too much. it still feels kinda wrong to write about it, like sealing it in a box and stoving it away. it's probably better than keeping it inside, but... it's like burying her a second time. the first one was hard enough. and it is so ironic that in the last blog i have expressed my concern over her health... and now... this.it is so unfair. she has done nothing to deserve it. and yes, i know there are millions of people out there suffering, hurting and dying from diseases and i, quite frankly, don't give a shit. they are statistics to me and nothing more. this dog was my friend. this dog has not hurt, harmed, bitten or upset anyone (well except me, when chewing on my favourite t-shirts). and yet, this dog has gone through pains i can't and don't even want to imagine, has gone through the despair of not understanding what is wrong, through the vain hope of us being able to help. i hope that she has gone before going through disappointment at our impotence. but no one and nothing will get it out of my head that those haunting yells didn't have the note of a plea for help in them. and no one and nothing will, i think, rid my of this totally irrational guilt that i couldn't do anything for her. just like i can't escape a whole train of other "if only's" regarding her. like... if only i had taken better care, spent more time, paid more attention to possible signs i might have missed, had more patience, didn't snap during the last days... it's weird, i still can recall the two nights when i just couldn't baer it anymore to hear her cry. the first one, i took a sleeping pill that totally numbed me at first and totally knocked me out afterwards. i just fell asleep next to her, she has probably cried like she had done the previous nights but i couldn't hear. the second time... i snapped at her, then sat down next to her, leaned to the wall and the fridge, put one hand on her head, cuddled under the blanket and tried to sleep to the music in my headphones, ignoring the wails i heard during the song's ending and renewed beginning. i still can't bear to hear this particular song.

it was one thing to know that she will only live until my parents come back... another thing to accept that. in spite of making arrangements for visiting the doctors in budapest, taking more days off to do so, making provision of painkillers (i have become an expert at administering injections to dogs... and i could've sworn i would never be able to actually pierce living skin with a needle, let alone a muscle)... i knew deep inside that there was nothing left to be done. just like i knew it had to be my decision to put her to sleep.

the last day was horrible. the painkillers and anti-contraction drugs started to have nearly no effect at all though i had increased the dose to nearly the maximum. she was crying almost without a break, she was desperate when there was no one in sight. we longed for the vet to come, to relieve her and at the same time we knew we actually counted down the last couple of hours of her cruelly short life. i can only imagine how helpless she must have felt being pinned to the ground, having to call for our attention for such basic needs like thirst, hunger and having her diaper blanket changed, or how desperate she was lest we should leave her alone. unlike rocky, who seemed to have come at peace with himself, who had taken his goodbyes in his silent way, she had a will to live. she was young, strong and... condemned. by a stupid degenerative disease, but in the end, by me. i am glad we did it at home. moving her would have meant more torment and agitation. at least she was in her territory, she knew the doc, she didn't complain when she was given the ketamine that knocked her out. i now partly understand why they didn't let my dad in with rocky. it was mesmerizing to watch the vet prepare the needle, knowing it is what will eventually kill her, even though it is the best option for her. she went peacefully in her drug-induced sleep, with her head in my lap.

for some reason i kept stroking her ear and playing with her soft ears in the car, on the way to the place we meant to bury her. my dad had dug her grave a couple of feet away from where rocky lies and i don't want to know how he felt while he was at it that morning, alone in the field.. she was heavy to carry, as inert bodies are. i wish i had some other last images of her etched in my mind than the ones i have. but the ones that keep coming back is the despair in her eyes in the last days, her head lolling to one side with her tongue hanging out while we were carrying her in a blanket and her rolled up in the grave. i gave her her favourite chewed out toy and a puppet i had given her to hold in the last days. when my dad jumped down to level the first layer of earth over her, it was almost too much. i felt the urge of just wanting to take her out of there.

it's over a month later now. she died on the 5th of september. she would've had her fourth birthday on the 14th. on the 19th four years ago, it had been rocky's turn. she had been the one to partly cure that pain, but we had never expected her to have such a short life. and yet... i slowly find myself wanting a dog again. because nothing... absolutely nothing compares to that. :(

hello, hello, turn your radio on

i'm in one-song periods. i've been to this music festival (no, i don't mean the b'estival, which i know i still haven't blogged about) and one of the bands playing was a romanian band called vita de vie (the grape vine). and they played one of my fave songs, called varza, which means cabbage, which is however a slang term :P so for two days i listened to that song on powerplay. since it's about legalising pot, it has a pretty reggae feeling to it. that's how the streak started, a week ago. it ended today, again in reggae-ish mood, when two songs mainly shared the list. one was amy winehouse's rehab, the other was a pure reggae song a friend gave me, prophet benjamin's ah field, ah weed. (does anyone else notice a common "vice" theme to these?).

anyhow, the absolute poweplays of the last days were the ones in the middle of the streak. and they weren't the cheery ones, obviously (this reggae night thing was more like treatment, than acting how i feel). i mean goo goo dolls' before it's too late and stone sour's bother. i could listen to those songs... well, not forever, but for a long period of time, as i think last.fm will confirm. i missed the goo goo dolls. the song is in the same vein as all of their materials, they're not the most original of bands out there, but they always touch me, mainly through the lyrics. the stone sour one... well, if you search the blog, you'll find it posted somewhere, lyrics and vid. it's an old love, if you can love pain. and it's still the undisputed king in my most played chart.

You don't need to bother; I don't need to be; I'll keep slipping farther. But once I hold on, I won't let go 'til it bleeds

not the most optimistic of songs you've heard, huh? well... it quite caught the moment. and while i was listening to it, a nagging thought came back that i've been trying to push away. i haven't mentioned it here before, but i fear for my dog. it may be nothing, just a lack of calcium or something (she'll have a thorough check up soon, at yet another vet), or it may be something really bad.

and all my un-kept resolutions came back to me. i have no person to care for (save myself, and anyone who knows me can tell you that i don't) and i can't even care properly for a dog :( i care for her, emotionally speaking, but she gives back so little and i've stopped really caring as in "acting on it" for those who give back next to nothing. however, she is a dog. it's not fair to treat her like this as she can't be aware of hurt feelings. i shouldn't project my attitude towards people on a dog and the fact that i can't relate properly to humans shouldn't affect my relationship with a dog. i mean... c'mon, even autists manage okay in that field... before you ask: no, i am not fine. not at all.

Wish I was too dead to cry My self-affliction fades Stones to throw at my creator Masochists to which I cater..

you know the rest. you don't need to bother. because, after all, i don't need to be.

:(

A black cat moans
When he's burning with the fever
A stray dog howls
When he's lonely in the night
A woman goes crazy
With the though of retribution
But, a man starts weeping
When he's sick and tired of life

I keep on dreaming dreams of tomorrow
Feel I'm wasting my time
Lighting candles in the wind
Always taking my chances
On the promise of the future
But, a heart full of sorrow
Paints a lonely tapestry

The sun is shining
But, it's raining in my heart

No one understands the heartache
No one feels the pain
Cos no one ever sees the tears
When you're crying in the rain
When you're crying in the rain
Crying in the rain

~ whitesnake ~


I'll never let you see
The way my broken heart is hurting me
I've got my pride and I know how to hide
All my sorrow and pain
I'll do my crying in the rain

~ a-ha ~

nothing left to add...

random stuff

i am back, though some might not even know i was gone. amsterdam and bonn in case you wonder and/or care and if not, what the hell are you still doing reading my blog? it is strange how one (or i...) can feel so at home in places i've been but once before. as it is equally strange how a mere change of setting can change my mind frame for the time i'm there. all the nastier the realisation that this here is my life, not that one there. perhaps i will tell you a bit about the trip on another occasion.

on another front... one more down. they're less and less by the day. less strings. a pity or a relief, i am not sure.

work stuff... i got a raise. not much, but it's something. doesn't make up for giving up moderating, but makes the difference between then and now less obvious. i am still relieved of having given that up - the strain on me is much less.

the project... well, just goes to prove that if you want something done, you have to do it yourself. though i've left all materials when i left and asked my 'colleagues' to conduct it, nothing has been done. needless to say we're one and a half month overdue. i don't know who'll sign the report on this one. i for one, won't. i've re-read my mails in october, calling out to people. i stated there and then that i don't have the time to manage all aspects of it. i can't wait for it to be over, so i can formally retreat from any such NGO actions. they've been a thing i took pride in for a long time and they gave me a sense of accomplishment, but i've come to see, quite cynically, that it's not worth my time, effort and least of all involvement. like anything is!

school's coming along ok, though i'm a bit behind with my final paper. seeing that i picked a subject i can plunge myself into out of pleasure, i am not too worried about it though. once i start out on it, it should come along ok. keeping the things in an area that interests me is a lesson i learnt early on. for my last exam, i did a PR campaign plan for a tribe i lead in an online game. for the one coming on saturday, i started work on a website for my tribe on the romanian server. and i enjoy every bit of it.

moving on to the games section... neverwinter nights 2 is the hit. even if only for this, my brand new computer that cost a fortune was well worth its money. and hey, it just looks better on a wide screen lcd monitor :D. the other game i'm in is the aforementioned one. tribalwars. come join on world 8 if you are bored. :D of course, there has to be some bickering and bitter musing about it.

people cheat. they create multiple accounts to support their main one with resources and armies. i don't see the point in cheating in such a game. what does it prove if you are a top ranking player and got there cheating? not a fucking thing - only that you are not good enough to make it by the rules. i can understand theft, arranged football games, bribe, whatever, when it gains something. but this is a game for god's sake. i despise cheaters. bragging cheaters even more so. a colleague of mine got his account shut down for it - all seven of them that is. as much as it pains me to see how it has affected him, i can't help being holier-than-thou and thinking he got what he deserved.

well... what else to report? oh yeah. books. big books. big english books. big english fantasy books. drizzt absolutely rules. i love them. they are my trips away when i'm still here. or when my body's still here. i almost never am.

makes me wonder...

i have no idea how to start this blog so it will begin pretty abruptely. actually, this thing is in relation with the previous blog: the two were intended to be squeezed in the same post but in the end i decided i should treat them separately, as there is no direct link between the two... merely a stream of consciousness one :) (or 'scream of consciousness, as a friend of mine put it... am gonna change my blog labels to that one - far more fitting).

thus, it is not in direct relation with the respect i give to certain people or the way they lose even the most basic form of it... it's something that happens before they get the chance to do so: i've always been some sort of a snail. cowering in my shell and reluctant to get my antennae out to explore and take the first step in a new social situation. forcing me to do so has never resulted in anything good for me, emotionally speaking. i do things like that in my own time and in my own way, that, admittedly, is hard to understand by most. i also have some apparently weird criteria based on which i choose the persons i consider worth 'exploring' more in depth. however... i did. i bonded on several occasions.

i guess it is a fact of life that people disappoint people. nothing new in that. but it always leaves me with a very bitter taste. and of course, the more i like the person, the more faith i put in them, the higher the expectations, the harder the fall. at some point, i've reached the conclusion that it's just not worth the effort i put in knowing people (again, in my sense of 'knowing'). why bother, really? so i just try to go with the flow, whenever possible.

i'm glad when interaction goes to a deeper level then 'hi, how are you?', but i try not to expect it... and even less expect it to be rewarding in any way when it does. and even when it gets there... i kind of half not expect it to last. it's a darn pessimistic point of view, i know. but what is generally known as 'faith in people' has gone down the drain as far as i am concerned.


so basically i've just retreated back to my shell. if anyone's curious about me, they can knock on my door, i am not going to volunteer to come out. i don't believe in marketing oneself. because i don't want to sell an image. tried that, i don't know whether because i was following a trend, trying to stay in line with the way people my age behaved or because it was an artificially created need... but i tire of upholding an image and it's not worth it in 98% of the cases. so if it's image you look for, you might as well move on without stopping... you're in a rush to live your life anyway and i'm not curios about that.

i still don't have a reason
and you don't have the time
and it really makes me wonder
if i ever gave a fuck about you...

tearing myself apart

it seems i have developed this thing into a hobby recently (there, nearly wrote 'hobbit' instead). cutting and tearing away little bits from me and systematically destroying them. i am cutting away people, places, habits... i burn bridges behind me, but fail to move on. what will i do when i set fire on the very bridge i am now, suspended mid-air? i have no wings to fly; i have no one to catch me should i fall. i was merely using this bridge as a swing, idly relaxing on it between here and there above a chasm.

i keep on severing more and more ties. i started this quite a while ago and quite unaware. getting rid of all the driftwood... every single relationship i got nothing back from. or not enough. and they were quite a few. maybe i'm too demanding, who knows? and who cares? maybe i'm just sick of playing give and take without the take part. and i don't care about being polite about it, either.

i am cutting away things i used to do that aren't fun anymore. i can't wait for this stupid project to end. and it sounded like so much fun in the beginning. i simply don't care about it and how it turns out, though i occasionally have a twitch of conscience. at the end of may and the project, i plan to rid myself of any contact with the organisation and its actions. also, i will formally resign my position in the other organisation, the doggy thing, as well. and come to think of it... it's five years of my life that i've invested in these things, with energy and emotion. to no avail.

i will finish my master's degree this summer. i couldn't care less about it, honestly. it's all about the paper :(. and it started from their point of view. well, if all they want is my money, all i want is their paper. a pity. also, i have gradually retreated from my moderating activities. it just takes its toll on me. i hate being in the middle of conflicts. i hate being involved in conflicts. i hate having to solve them between other parties. i hate making decisions.

and now... we come to the closing chapter. once i've cut off all the bits and pieces of this thing called my everyday life that i can do without... why not face it head on and break it? well, because it's a decision. and i'm about the worst decision maker you could have. i can't even decide whether to have rice or pasta with my chicken for lunch. in the end, i go with the flow, or toss a coin, or do whatever feels like less effort...

i've taken all this in stride because it felt like it was better for me, selfish as it may sound (oh yes, underneath it all and an apparent generosity, i am also one of the most selfish persons i know). however, i was fine with cutting away all these useless (as it now seems) limbs because the process and the pain involved affected me in a bearable manner. i could apply some sort of local anaesthesia to make the spot numb. but now... it will hurt like hell. it will erase virtually all i've known as "my life". and the people it will affect in the process... their pain will affect me too, more than i like or care to admit. add to that the anxiety of radical change.

telling myself that it's better in the long run has no soothing effect. i am killing others and my self (as in who i am now) in a gamble. not taking a stance in this however equals a decision in itself, the decision to stay put until it is too late to move on even if i wanted it. it is, psychologically speaking, one of the worst positions i can find myself in. and i perceive it as an utterly unfair thing to ever place me in such a position. so god or fate or whatever it is that pulls the strings out there, eat this: i fucking hate you for every time you screw with my mind like this.

desolated by breathinglesson
torn apart by manfromsun

"manifesting displeasure" and other emotions

this blog was triggered by ilya's post on her blog, where she was complaining about her boss's attitude towards her. when someone asked in a comment whether she had confronted him on the issue, ilya replied no, but she had "constantly manifested displeasure" about it. okay, manifesting displeasure is the keyword for this post. but first... let's take a traditional detour, shall we?

it seems that last week several people have developed a soft spot for having me as a lab rat for their little psychological analysis. not that i mind much, it rather amuses me. but they were too many all of a sudden, including my mum, which is always bad. she started by asking me what i think of various groups of people, mainly minorities of all sorts - ethnic, religious, etc. then she asked me whether i felt that the university i got a degree from was useful in any way or influenced the way i see the world. for those who don't know, there's "sociologist" written on my diploma (that's the reason i pretend to work in a job that involves picking up the receiver, writing down stuff i hear and passing it on, then making reports based on that.). i said that not necessarily, it just offered names for stuff i knew was out there, tools to categorise them, concepts to name some blurry notions in mind etc. it helped organised what i knew, what i learned and what i perceived of the world. it wasn't like it didn't teach me anything. but whatever it taught, i was like... "yeah... yeah, you're right, i've seen that too."

my mum said that she always thought i had a keen people sense. that i seem to 'read' people and situations and evaluate them correctly and predict the way things develop before they actually head into that direction. i don't know whether that's logic, gut feeling or a combination of the two, but apparently people out there have a hard time grasping some things that to me seem obvious. and i admit i have very little patience with them. it is not out of arrogance (not this time), it is out of frustration. i'd rather invest my energies in something more useful (like sleeping or playing computer games) than debating the obvious.

moving on, she asked what i would have liked to study. looking back... psychology. but i unfortunately, i am accurately aware of the downside. i would've loved to learn it (just like i would've loved sociology taught by the right people and approaching the right issues... :( ), to discover things, to unravel the beauty of the human mind. yes, there is beauty and fascination even in the most grotesque of it. practice though... that would've killed me young or put me in a mental institution. as a patient, mind you.

why? because of empathy. i have it in a degree that is not healthy for me, though i am perfectly aware of appearing cold, distant and uncaring at times. i choose not to know stuff about people, especially their problems, save close friends, and then only by choice. i choose to shrug off disturbing things and to face it with sarcasm and cynism. because it affects me. empathy is not something you can turn off. if something hits me, it hits me. yes, i have said it before... there's one thing i can do and that is to turn off thoughts about a certain issue. but it doesn't work long-term and it sure ain't a healthy practice. those things hidden in a dark closet... i don't see them, but they are there and they nibble at my equilibrum, if not my sanity. so it's not that i don't care about someone's woes and worries. i don't allow myself to care. and that leaves me a statue of ice, cold and rejecting on the outside... and pretty darn hollow on the inside, yes. so far, better than melting away in a dirty puddle.

so, having stated my empathy problem, my mum said that people don't notice that. that they go on rambling and don't notice that it affects me negatively. that she onlt sometimes realises it and stops only when it's already too late. and why i don't state it.

which (finally...) brings us back to the topic of this entry. manifesting displeasure. i don't state it because i hate these "talks". as important as communication is, as much as i recommend it to everyone else, it is not a medicine for me. face-to-face talks on such things unnerve me. so i go for the 'manifesting displeasure' version. if i raise my brow repeatedly, huff and puff, mock you, roll my eyes when you start over or just fall silent and pout for hours... hell, can't you tell that something's wrong? i am highly unlikely to go "shut up, you ass!".

well, it seems some people don't take these signs seriosuly. need a written and signed declaration that this or that bothers me in order to stop? and there go scientists saying that 80% of our communication is non-verbal. so why isn't anyone paying attention to it? maybe they don't even notice. maybe they misinterpret it. maybe they don't take it seriously enough until it is outspoken (though when i get to that stage, it is usually too late). or maybe they thing it is just a mood that will pass.

well, in that case, i've got some other piece of breakthrough news. things that bother me... i don't wipe them away with a sponge. never. i may forgive, but i sure as hell don't forget. forgetting is for fools and for those intent to repeat mistakes. i am a far way from biting people's head off for hurting me (though sometimes i wish i weren't), partially because i know that they are not always aware of hurting me. but when i know they know... i can't stand it when they feel bad about it a couple of minutes or hours or days... and then do the same thing all over again. apologies don't work that way. it's not like "sorry, i don't mean it, so i can do it again". it's supposed to be "sorry, i'll try not to make it happen again". if you don't mean it, don't do it. it takes me quite a time to react to behaviour like this. which, by the way, i define as "abusing me". emotionally. as worse as any other form. and when i do react, it's usually because two things have happened.

firstly, several hurts of a sort have accumulated. while people might be aware of having hurt me, they are usually not aware that i keep these things inside. someone once said to me i have an elephant's memory... "you haven't forgotten, have you?". no... sure as hell i haven't. and everytime you hurt me, it goes a bit deeper. at one point it will strike deep enough to cause that reaction. "every action causes a reaction of the same force and opposite direction" or something like that... it's a law of physics. the trouble is, the reaction doesn't have the force of only the hurt that finally caused, but of the entire accumulated stuff that's been festering inside and is now errupting. and this is much easier due to the second thing that happened by now. the repeated taking in of what i perceive as abuse, intended or not, has lead inevitably to a cooling of my feelings towards the person. resentment has built up with every time or else i am either in the grey area of indifference by now, which makes it easier to hit back.

don't get me wrong. i am not zorro on a black horse, seeking vengeance against all those whom i perceive as having me done wrong. most of the times it's a very spontaneous thing. it's like a dam breaking. i spill out everything i've kept inside. people are usually shocked when i do, though it has seldom happened in a decessive manner. they never saw it coming. because instead of speaking up, i only "manifested displeasure". when i do retaliate it's because i couldn't take it anymore and i strike with thirst and usually under the belt. and honestly... scary as it may seem, it's not only that i don't regret it... i rather enjoy it. it's something like "how does it feel for you?". it hurts. i know. but when i'm there... i'm not only past forgettig, i am also past forgiving.

and after the storm... well, i just retreat back and build my statue of ice again. and i can pretend i am fine again and the world can pretend that i am cold and uncaring.

hurt by madteadparty
ice dragon by tarjcia

losers weepers (4) the walnut tree

and there are no finders. you don't know what you got till it's gone. and sometimes you know, and you can't help it going away.

i remember when i was a little girl, only a few years old, that we used to have a garden a couple of streets away from our block. it was surrounded by a high fence of wild, thorny growth that my dad clipped, it was really thick, no one could get in and it was hard to see through. there was a sandpit where i used to play and make forms in the sand. and i'd make a little hole in the sand and pour in water and mix real fast with a stick. and i called the muddy dark water with bubbles on top 'pepsi' and that was about the only soft drink i got to see in those days. we had various veggies there and apart from that, strawberries and raspberries. i 'befriended' two girls from the area, twins. one's name was luminita. i can't remember the other's name. i proudly showed them the garden, including the strawberries. when they were ripe, my dad caught them stealing. and there was a larger pit, maybe a meter deep, with linoleum laid out on the bottom, and there were flowers on its bank, and a little stone garden and that was my mum's sunbathing place. and at one end, there grew a walnut tree. and it grew and grew. and either it grew sick at one point, or else my folks decided there was too much shadow, they wanted it gone. i cried when they killed it and i asked them not to. it wasn't chopped down, but my dad made several cuts across its trunk and it withered and died within a week. it seemed barbaric to me. it happened over fifteen years ago but i remembered it last week. i told him about it and he said it hadn't been a walnut, but a mulberry tree.

hm

how bad is it that given the choice to save ten people or one dog, i'd go for the dog? and how bad is it that i miss a dead dog more than died or moved away family members? and just how bad is it that i don't learn the lessons there are to be learnt? :(

birthday blog

i've been told i have to write one of these.

now, i have just begun the post and i already have a vital question. what the heck am i supposed to write here? how i've spent my day? just like any other, except i got flowers. how i feel today? not different from yesterday. so i take it that the only thing left to do is... draw a line and sum up. and i hate that. i am a chronic sufferer of high expectations so i always screw up, no matter how high i've reached it's never high enough, and the worst part is i don't even know how high i want to get.

that being cleared... i'm 25 and i feel like i'm 52. i feel i have seen it all and god knows i haven't. i feel like nothing can surprise me and if something extraordinary happens, i'm likely to greet it with a raised eyebrow and spoil everyone's fun about it. there's this romanian poem that goes 'i don't shatter the world's corolla of wonder'. well, i do, with every thought i think. i imbue every thought with pessimism and sarcasm just so i can be prepared. and then i get the satisfaction of i-told-you-so's or of sighs of relief.

i shatter the wonder of each new day with my sarcasm and my lack of faith. in god, in the world, in truth and justice, in people, in myself. interactions tire me to exhaustion - from the paper vendors, to people at job, to family, to close friends - i only pay enough attention to throw in two lines. i don't really care about what they say, what troubles them, what they ask of me. i just want to lie down and be. just like that - standing still in space and time. i've built a double scale of appreciation of people and things according to that. on the one hand: anything that doesn't bother me in any way - good; anything that interferes with my stasis - bad. on the other hand, i know that this is so fucking wrong and such a waste of life and breath. and the part of me that knows that has another measure of value: anything that lets me indulge in this slug-like existence - bad; anything that kicks my ass into movement once in a while - good.

and i want and don't want to get out of this. and if i force myself to think, to really think things over i come to the same results over and over again. and i go back to my shell and yet again start counting time. hours till i go home, days till my next day off, weeks till the holiday, years till retirement. and i realise i am counting my given days away, counting myself nearer to death and... god, i'm only 25. happy fucking birthday.

image: bloddy-earth

out of tune with times

i have an issue with the times i live in. they just don't seem the right ones for who i've come to be. or maybe it is me who wasn't tailored right for the times that were meant for me. i keep telling myself the little tolkien mantra for the occasion...

'I wish it need not have happened in my time' - 'So do I. And so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.'

but that is of rather small comfort. sometimes my cynical self gets the better of me and i am convinced i am way ahead of my time. because i can't help considering the way some people think and speak and act... well, narrow-minded and retarded. it's the blunt truth, though you must be fed up by my arrogance by now.

on other occasions, however... some of my ideas about people, the world, how things should be and how they should work... i seem to have taken them from past centuries. for instance, i continue to be amazed at the lightheartedness and superficiality with which people treat relationships. with which they treat each other. taken off the shelf, used, replacesd with a newer/better/brighter/more fashionable/gadgety item. it's like the consumerism of the age has spread over to relationships.

don't get me wrong. i don't vote for the virgin till marriage policy. i advocate sexual freedom to any extent that doesn't hurt others. but... this is the point. one night stands are great if you're into it; sex-only relationships are stressless and convenient and suited for the age; open relationships are perfectly ok... as long as both partners agree to that. it's as simple as that in my simple-minded view.

what i cannot understand, however, is (a) putting up a pretense of a relationship in order to keep a convenient sex partner around and (b) maintaining a relationship because it is a convenient thing to do - financially, emotionally, for getting chores done or out of habit - while not being into it or worse, cheating. i'd consider it immoral even if the partner in question knew about it and consented. but then at least it would be by choice. otherwise though... it's called taking advantage of someone's trust and that's almost as bad as you can get in matter of selfishness.

i don't know, really... i suppose it's because i've never really been there, but i don't think i could ever do it. i'm a horrendous liar. i can't even pretend to care well enough to maintain a relationship in the 'hardly satisfactory' area; i'd probably just let the whole thing die out and kill it off if it won't go peacefully. but i am almost entirely convinced i could never ever cheat. i am not built for that.

as said, the lightheartedness with which people talk of cheating, of maintaining several 'relationships' at the same time and juggling them, of hooking up on the spot and breaking up several spots later, the perception of romance as a race to displaying conquests, the ease with which 'loving', 'flirting', 'being turned on' and 'getting laid' are interchanged without them perceiving any change in the meaning... it absolutely scares the shit out of me.

sorry folks, i am really not built for such times. i refuse to be dragged into such a 'race' i have no chance to even finish and where i'd puke myself all over three times a day. i'll retire in dignity, at the risk of ending up alone and bitter like a dried out prune... but retaining some sense of self worth for not selling myself and my principles - old-fashioned though they might be - over to a trend of some misfit times.

lord knows i am no frank sinatra fan, but...

For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught.
To say the things he truly feels;
And not the words of one who kneels.
The record shows I took the blows -
And did it my way!

images by: salvador dali, bogdan h. and gisaiagami

the server may be down or not responding... (the no pictures blog)

i don’t necessarily feel like writing a blog. i do feel like writing, however. whatever it is. and that is usually a sign that something is troubling me and i need to spill it out, some way or another... or at least part of it.

i don’t know exactly what it is. or maybe i know and i’d rather not face it or give it any names. you know what they say... once you name it, you call it into existence.

i think the main problem is, lately i am alone with my thoughts for too long a time once again. i push them to the back of my mind mostly. i cover things up busying myself. but now i have a downtime. i am at work, i have stuff to do, but the network is down so i can’t. i have few options left and i am delighted at neither, so i drifted away and... landed here. not good.

i wonder if we really should be the way we are. sometimes i find myself thinking that i am in a way... that is not good for me. i wish i’d been built differently, from many points of view. i have tried to change, but it doesn’t work that way. you can’t just say ‘i’m going to change this about myself’ and just do it. you may change on the outside, you may attain a degree of control over your reactions and so forth, but you can’t change your insides at will. or at least, i can’t. sure we change... but it is the direct result of interacting with people, things, situations. it’s called ‘evolution’ (or ‘involution’...).

and putting up a pretense of someone you want to be... i wonder if the cost-benefit relation is a profitable one here. i think the strain of it, even though allowing one to live and be functional in a given environment is in the long run more damaging than being oneself. no idea. i can’t quite gather my thoughts into a coherent flow right now.

it’s just that, looking back i sometimes have reactions that are not really me as i see myself. maybe my view of me is distorted; actually, it more than certainly is, since i can’t be objective towards myself. but then again... am i not who i think i am? doesn’t my mind define me and is that not really all that matters in relation with me?

i think i’ve mentioned this before... i think these self-defining issues... i should’ve left them behind in my teen years. should’ve settled the issues or at least should’ve drawn some stable major outlines and then just go on defining and refining details. and yet, every once in a while when i find myself stopping and asking these questions... i am as lost as ever.

i have no idea who i am. if i were to take that ‘i am’ test right now on the spot... i don’t know if i could come up with 20 definitions. definitions, not adjectives. and then, going through them... how many would seem vital to me? and stable enough for me to say that they are part of my essence?

same goes for the ‘what i want’ question. no fucking idea. ‘how do you see yourself in twenty years? in ten years? in five years?’. hell, i don’t know. i don’t look there, i don’t see myself. i don’t even see myself in a year or in a couple of months. i go with the flow in an incredible way. and one that is in utter contrast to my self-determining philosophy of life and my view that you are what you make yourself become and all that shit. maybe i’d put just a little more effort in myself if i knew where i stand and where i want to go. right now... i just want to go away.

which brings me back to the emmigration issue. maybe my mum is right. maybe i just got bored and need a change. she’s suggested i change my job. i don’t want to change my job for one i don’t enjoy. not even for double pay, though it is unlikely that i find a better paid job than this one, plus it is laid-back. well, and boring as hell. but i don’t know what i would like to do. the things i like doing don’t earn me money. and if they did, i’d probably stop liking them anyway. it’s... the way i am built.

i guess this could be the point to also address ily’a comment on a previous post, saying something about all my friends are here and anywhere else i’d feel unwelcome and an outisder and not at home.

well... i don’t really fit in here either. i don’t do what most people my age do, i don’t like what most people my age like. i am not interested in 90% of their possible subjects of conversation. and mind you, this is not the arrogant me speaking. it’s not because i’m smarter or something, or because i beg to differ. i simply don’t care. i don’t care much about anything these days. so... where would the difference be then? unwelcome? by who? or who is welcoming me here?

and friends? pffft. not even worth mentioning. i have a special talent for falling out with people. what friends do i have here? i have one friend whom i see maybe once a week to catch up on things. i have a couple (and by a couple i mean two, not several) more whom i meet even more seldom, maybe once a month in good times. i have several people who probably qualify as acquaintances rather than friends, we come together once a month or once every two months or so and exchange meaningless chatter. i care as little about maintaining contacts as they do, honestly. i could do so well without, that i probably wouldn’t even notice a difference. i am a social person even less than in the past years. i get along well with virtually anyone and am close to virtually no one.

and i guess ‘virtual’ is the key phrase here. i am one of those sorry, pathetic people who live a life online. i’ve done more indepth talking to people i’ve met over the internet than with some i’ve known for half my life, or with my parents. i’d rather call on-line contacts friends then people i’ve practically grown up with. sad, isn’t it? and at the same time... makes it the easier to leave. as long as i don’t move to china or something and radically shift time-zones, most of my friends, even those few long-time ones i’ve mentioned before, are just a click away. just as close and just as unreacheable, no matter whether i log in from romania or from scandinavia.

i guess this is the main reason for this long and mostly senseless blog. my internet connection is down and i am lonely. i am separated from my friends by a blank error screen saying ‘server not responding. there might be a network problem. please contact your network administrator’. the very same screen keeping me from getting work done instead of rambling on here.

oh yeah, in case you were wondering, i am writing this in a ms word document, to be posted on the blog later. look, i’ve written almost two pages and have told you almost nothing. or maybe i’ve said too much already.

well, i have no good news to impart. apart from deciding to emmigrate, i’ve also decided to become just like any regular individual out there with no life whatsoever. in may, when my project finishes, i will resign even my membership from the organisation i used to work for (i’ve gone from employee / board member – member/volunteer) and probably the doggie organisation too. i’ll keep in touch with some of the people (for a time and as much as i seem to keep in touch with anyone...) and that’s that. in june i also finish my master’s degree, which is yet another hot air balloon. and we’ll see what else.

i have times when all these things just pile up over several i can’t avoid and i have had it. besides, i have been told at my regular check-up that i have spasmophilia, which is a lack of calcium and magnesium, which are prevented from being assimilated into the organism by stress, amongst others. so now i take magnesium pills and i am currently on my tenth day off of coke. i’ll see to it that i also get rid of stress. though stressing myself out over the most imbecile issues is part of my nature that i am so unhappy about. well. cheers (that is, if you endured reading all this crap).