highway to hell... of some sort or another

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished me to the Sixth Level of Hell - The City of Dis! Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Moderate
Level 2 (Lustful)	Moderate
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very High
Level 7 (Violent)	Moderate
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Moderate
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Moderate

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid:	Low
Schizoid:	Moderate
Schizotypal:	Moderate
Antisocial:	Low
Borderline:	Low
Histrionic:	Low
Narcissistic:	Low
Avoidant:	High
Dependent:	Low
Obsessive-Compulsive:	Moderate
-- Personality Disorder Test -- -- Personality Disorder Information --

fear the path to the dark side is...

i'm two steps away from the dark side. fear the path to the dark side is. fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to the dark side. i am in the anger phase. just like a venomous snake has a pouch of poison that keeps itself supplied, ready for the next and next time the snake will choose to strike - whether in attack or defense - i seem to have a self-refilling reserve of anger.

and i just realised its coming from fear. a fear so deep and concealed, and perhaps so part of my (first or second) nature, that its direct connection to my occasional outburst of anger mostly eludes me. but outbursts just turn themselves into yet another source of fear.

i find outlets. otherwise it'd just pile inside of me until it poisoned my mind beyond my bearing point. the other choice is letting it off on others, which i resent. and while i mostly consider my anger justified (which is a presumably a thing that all tyrants do), i do not like it. i'm a control freak. i don't want my anger controlling me, my thoughts, my words, my actions. i resent it as much as any other thing i cannot control.

losing control does not feel safe, thus it is to be feared. the satisfaction of beating the odds, of living up to uncontrollable situations is outweighed by... fear. if i am to ever change, it is fear i must overcome first - the root of all evil.

ps: pic is cover art of iron maiden's fear of the dark.

for lack of something else....

actually, there are quite a few things i meant to write about. some of them i thought not worthy getting more annoyed over (or giving them a tinge of eternity by outting them down in writing, lol), others... well, forgive me, i just did not want to share. so here is this darn thing that goes round the net:

i am: at war with myself and the world
i want: to be left alone most of the times; to be loved sometimes. that and world peace :)
i wish: to make peace with myself and learn to love myself
i hate: waking up early, being noticed, being yelled at and taking the blame. especially for others.
i miss: being unaware
i fear: choking on my own feelings
i hear: a quiet song in my head and the constant sound of the stream flowing all around my shell
i wonder: at the lengths some people would go to attract attention
i regret: letting myself go
i am not: half as good as as i wish, half as bad as some think
i dance: only when i feel naughty :->
i sing: dreadfully, so i refrain; except at concerts, then it’s top of my lungs and a cathartic thing
i cry: mostly at night
i am not always: able to stop myself getting angry at people who are not worth the bother; willing to justify myself.
i made: too many commitments, i think at times. but as yet, i cope
i write: preferably in black ink; poetry and rants to cleanse my system of toxines; i call them my intellectual wastes
i confuse: people around me with my mood swings and internet users about my gender through my nickname :)
i need: a stronger will and… something else
i should: get a grip on myself
i start: taking steps toward my goal (the how many-eth time?)
i finish: a coke bottle really quick :)
i tag: whoever feels like it.

war

i had almost forgotten the emotional charge of crying. amazing how much energy it consumes. still, it bears no relief. the tears, instead of cooling the down the inner turmoil, are like drops of acid rain: eating me up even more. crying as a therapy never works for me. instead of getting some sort of precare peace, all i end up with is read swollen eyes and a stubborn headache that goes away neither with pills, nor sleep. plus the trouble in the morning of caching it somehow to avoid stupid questions.

some day, i think i will simply tear in two. there is no sign of a truce. the me who loves me and the me who hates me wedge war an the me who loves me is slowly but steady losing ground. it is a calm, soothing, dignified me and it was not made for war. it is weary and receives but feeble support. the me who hates me... i wish it were violent, blind hate. it would be bound to make a mistake at some point. instead, it is cold and calculated, the hate stemming from steely scorn and contempt. it is coldblooded but when given the opportunity, it strikes with precision and fierce thirst. it takes no prisoners.

and me... i am hurled up in a corner like a frightened child. i hold a torn teddy in a frantic sweaty grip. i tried screaming, but no sound comes out. i am reduced to silent, uncontrolled sobbing while watching a twilit smoking battlefield that is my soul. shreds, pieces and bits of it hang around limply. and all i want is to close my eyes and make it all go away and feel safe and warm and cuddled. sometimes i even manage. until the next scream errupts and i widen my eyes in fear.

ps: click on image for link to original context on deviantart.com

writer's block or from keys to quills

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.

crappy holidays

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.

the spirit of the hawk

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.

easter surprise

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.

spring is in the air...

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.

the blog about nothing

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."