FireGardens's Xanga

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Tue, 11 Aug 2009 12:37:19 GMT

This xanga is moving!

New phase, new name, new decor.

Please message/comment if you want directions to the new place.

Loss

Thu, 06 Aug 2009 18:01:45 GMT

Since finishing university, I've found myself kind of at a loss about things. Job wise, of course, education wise, friend-wise and lover-wise and all other wises that care to rear their ugly heads.
I was applying for an internship which required me to write a review of a performance i'd seen in the last 12 months. I was rumaging through my shit to see if i'd salvaged a programme from the particular one i'd chosen, and I had not. But I had the ultimate side-track.
Before long I was literally buried in all my old crap that i'd saved since I ever started thinking. Cinema/concert/theatre tickets, programmes, memorabilia, old diaries, old poems I'd attempted, all the notes we passed to each other at school, even the tape recordings I'd made, when I needed someone to talk to, and the need to feel like someone was listening. (SHAME: thankfully I no longer own a casette player, along with the rest of the world.)

It made me incredibly nostalgic, but very quickly there emerged a giant knot in my belly kind of like lumps of puke sitting around drinking tea and watching 'Friends' in there.
There's a reason my past is far away from me, and people have dubbed me 'mature', which instead I think they mean, 'far from her youth'.
Still, I came back to the present in my head, and didn't feel much for the journey I've been on, so far. If anything, things are pretty unremarkable. Yeah, I've developed an unusual fear, i've gained a qualification and skill or two, i'm in a deadly, but passionate relationship, i've had the energy to get out and see things, and i'm not always held back by passiveness, and I've since refused to settle for anything, really. (Even if most of the ideologies stay as ideas, for now)

But you know, there's a distinct distance between my present and past and I think what's jading me out right now (if that IS a term) is that there's a distinct distance between my present and future.
I carry with me, a string of ugly people, that are putrid inside. But they're just there. If i get rid of them, i'm crippilingly alone. (Yes, i've already regressed to jabbering to no one; pacing, and spending far too much time in the conservatory)

So now what?

One thing I noticed, when up to my eyeballs in stale papers; I didn't half wirte alot of shit when I was at school.

I see very little has changed in that area

FundaMental.

Thu, 23 Jul 2009 23:46:47 GMT

I know there's a point in my life to come, whenever it'll be, where i'll look back on my time now and quite peacefully and cheerfully remark what a complete tit I was. But I know it's just something I have to go through. And once it's over, once i've collected myself. I'll learn from it, and never be this way again, at least not to the same extent. But until that time comes, I'll do and say the things I do and say and allow my mind to float out of my body and remark like a glittering arrow, that points out everything i'm doing wrong; how stupid i'm being. But until life says this phase is over, i'll be like this.
Prophesying this future, doesn't make it come any quicker. I'll be like this, as long as it takes.

Yesterday night I stumbled from my bed after watching a film with one eye open, to my bedroom door. I fell against the wall and looked over my bedroom. I realised then for the first time, that my head was closer to the ceiling, than it was to the floor. And I could truly see how much i'd grown, up, in this purple castle. And I knew then, that it wouldn't be long till I left here, and began the next phase of my life.

With José, i'll always be the one who worries more, who actively cares more, and tries harder to make things work. I'll always be the one who starts and ends the fights and cries over the other more. I'll probably even always be the one who loves the other more. And I know all this. I can't switch it off, I can't automatically stop. That's probably affirming that it's actual love anyway. It's not conditional. When he's an asshole, I still want to be around him. I still want to unfold in his arms and gnaw on his flesh. That's a kind of connection that won't ever be lost, and at the very least it's always something to fall back on, when emotions run wild, and the rate of tears is high.

And I can for as long as this goes on, always be upset and come back to the same problems I have with him. The fact that he never offers his time to me, or offers me any new experiences, days out, evenings out, walks, drives, anything. I know it'll always be me, and i'll always have to nag (Oh, nagging works by the way. As much as I actually hate conducting it) for anything.
But for a brief second today, driving away from him, I thought, that it doesn't matter anyway.
It's how I feel when we're together, and how I feel he feels; how he looks at me; and what I think, when I look at him. It's the physical connection I feel, when we're not even touching, that matters.

And what pleased me about this thought is how, when I was too young for hormones, and envisioned a relationship with a boy in the future. The only thing I could think of wanting, was what I felt just then, before I drove away.
Anything outside our world, just isn't so important.
Fundamentally, this is great.

Hate/Judge

Sat, 11 Jul 2009 21:52:29 GMT

Hatred is a strong emotion, which holds you back from true happiness or... comfort and peace, however later in life.

I will minimize my hatred.

I have also realized, far too late. To judge is to distance yourself for the realisation of all people's true greatness.
I will try not to be judgemental.

This is the most positive descision i've made in years.

I will lie to myself, if it makes it easier to handle.
This probably negates from my positive step.
OH well.

2.2

Tue, 07 Jul 2009 09:14:08 GMT

I must make my peace with the grade I predeict I will get from uni. 2.2
I find out at 5PM today and i'm going a little loopy. If I don't think about it, I'm thinking about other things. What Roland said to me, how selfish and egotistical I am, how un-clever (his phrasing, not mine) I am, how my blogs contain nothing and I feel I live my life in a TV drama, how I overreact to my family issues. Everything. And if i'm thinking about that, i'm not thinking about my grades. And then I feel guilty, or something stupid like that.

I know what i'm going to get, really. And it's shameful, but I can't say I didn't try, I just didn't try hard enough, until it was too late. And now the world will judge me, and know how stupid I am, because it's right there, it can't be undone, really. Everybody in the world gets 2.1's, it's just a given, but they're so hard to achieve. I wish to blame the institution, the teachers, the system, but it's all me. Perhaps I was too young to have gone to uni. I don't know... It's probably not the end of my education, I like the idea of studying further, not for the grades, really but for the knowledge.

But I already know, I can learn as much as I possibly could, and still not be clever. I'm still slow on the uptake, and I always will be, people will always use words I don't know, and they'll scowl at me like i'm scum for not knowing. My parents didn't teach me such things, they're less knowledeable about English than I am, but they made it, my Dad is certainly respected, and maybe I should follow in his footsteps... Keep things private, and subtle, be quiet, for most of the time. And don't really have friends except for his wife, whom he kind of loathes for her stupidity at times.

Ugh, that's gonna be me.

2.2
Allright. That's where it begins, at 5PM.

New Xanga

Fri, 03 Jul 2009 21:32:00 GMT

I was close to closing this xanga and relocating somewhere foreign. Start somewhere new. But then if I did that I'd be doing it as a result of someone else. So i'll stick with it. Its mine, it's my space, it's my forum. And I can write say and think whatever I damn well want. And you know, it's the one place, I don't need to dress up in clean and uncomfortable clothing, or wear heels that kill my feet, and wear tops that I worry expose large lumps of fat on my belly, or worry about the exposure of my disgusting legs and try all manner of garment and fashion to cover it up. Where I gotta spend my precious money on face paints to make me look beautiful.

Lest I be judged.

The beauty of the blog is rawness, kind of. It's direct from horses mouths... or should that be hors.i...? I'm kidding.

I don't need to worry that it's not good enough, I don't need to worry that my thoughts, my ideas and ramblings aren't good enough because I don't shove this blog in peoples' faces. It's mine! I don't ask people to pay to read it, I don't ever expect people to read it and comment, and I get all shy inside when people I know have read it.

But fuck, you know. Perhaps pride in anything is misplaced because there's always someone out there who knows better, who can trash it, regardless of its sentimentality.

It's my turn

Sun, 28 Jun 2009 22:10:45 GMT

Damn stalkers and their multiple cars and stupid fat faces.
I guess we keep learning things about ourselves, despite what I said below, I am capable of wishing certain people nothing but harm and badness for the rest of their days. Sometimes I have more of a reason than other times.

Well gee, you know, we're all moving on.
Everyone. EVERYONE.
Now, I have the time to sit on my garden swing, lay back and observe life pass me by.

People ask me what I want to do with my life, and I have the answer, but i'm embarrassed to say. This is when I need my alias most.
Perhaps I will.
There's a shit load of people around making all kinds of rubbish, and getting fuck loads of money for it.
It's my turn. No, it's our turn.

The answer to Scepticism.

Sun, 21 Jun 2009 21:32:49 GMT

I AM SO SICK OF THIS.
I AM SO SICK OF THIS.
I AM SO SICK OF THIS.

I've just discovered the reason why anyone becomes a sceptic, and also, how people will always be sceptics!
I am sceptical because i'm around people who I doubt, and whom I have reason to doubt. I'm talking about anything, really. Whether it's a scummy work colleague, or a scummy friend, or member of my family. At some point or another, they ignited by doubt, and ignited a sense of mistrust. I am a woman, so I am intuitive, generally speaking. And I always trust my gut.
Anyway, unless the mistrust or doubt is truly surfaced by me, or the other party, unless it's brought into the open, and we've both talked about it, it will always be there. There's no call for it to ever be extinguished. Some people fancy that that's holding a grudge. But I say it's just knowing how rare it is for people to fundamentally change.

Other people are sceptical, because of similar reasons, whether they've been spoken to, or treated poorly, they're bound to form a complex, a simple complex, perhaps, but a complex nonetheless, about the kinds of people they can then trust. Hypothetically, if a lady marries a man and the man's mother keeps starting rumours among the rest of his family about her, then she grows to mistrust any of that man's family, regardless of how distant, or how separate they might be from the mother, herself.

Do you follow?

So there lies the root of all scepticism, it begins for a good reason, but transfers itself for no reason. And then it becomes - lacking in reason, lacking in logic. But the source of the mistrust, is valid.

All along, i've been worrying about my own scepticism, wondering where my faith has gone, wondering why I can't trust so-and-so, etc. When tonight it hit me, smack in the middle of a film, out of nowhere. I am not the one whose scepticism is truly destructive.
It's them, it's him. It's not me.
And all the behaviour of the other, is a result of their scepticisms. It becomes a little larger than a vicious circle, because it affects anyone, and everyone. It has the potential to become global. Everybody is affected by the scepticisms of everyone else. And instead of extinguishing this, what happens is that, they/I form a scepticism of my own, until everyone I know, I know only as someone who has the potential to hurt me.
And then I just shut down.
We all just shut down.

I stamp my foot at the bottom of my fucking rainbow. My God damn colourful faithful rainbow.
I refuse to be a victim of someone else's issues. I refuse to become sceptical of all alike, because one shallow bastard can't trust me enough to open his god damn mouth.

I will always maintain, people are people / people are shits. But they're also the people who rid me of loneliness, who hold me close and lie to my face, and make me feel better. Who compliment me when I'm sitting down for dinner, on the way I look, because I did make some god damn effort tonight, and somebody noticed. They're the people who tell me I can do this, or that, or that I should be proud, or that I am beautiful, or that I am lovely. Open or honest, vulnerable, unafraid, funny, shy, cute, and all the other things I still fail to see in myself. They're also the people whom I see all of this in, and more. Because just as they say all that to me, I see and say all that to them. People can be wonders. But they all have the potential to be shits, and I know that, completely now.
So I refuse to be affected by this. I refuse to become a sceptic, and know that I have passion enough for five let alone two. I can love, I do love, and I will love.
I mean come on. It's been a god damn burden, right.
I can't shake my ability to see people as wholes and love their sorry-asshole twatting selves. All as they are. Even if they do rip me to fucking shreds.
Every day.

boys

Wed, 17 Jun 2009 23:16:53 GMT

Perhaps it's not just boys who are selfish, maybe it's everyone.

I think everyone is looking for someone.

Boys eat faster than girls, and if they want to go to bed at a certain time then they will, and unless girls are heavy sleepers, they will always be subject to the comfort factors of their surrounding males. Boys snore louder than girls and sometimes so loud it'll wake up the girls, and there's nothing the girls can do about it. They just gotta lie there and listen, and hope their ears shut down. If boys do or don't want to go somewhere or do something. Then that's what everyone does, or doesn't do. Girl's just gotta drag her feet around, and she can sigh as loud as she like, she won't be heard. If she say anything, she'll be called shellfish.

Boys play video games and computer games on all manner of consoles, they don't got the heart to listen to the girls' heart. They don't got the time or energy, they don't got the patience or interest to listen to the ramblings of some girl. Similarly the ramblings of girls will never go over the intricacies of a playstation 3. She talk about life, she talk about love, and hope and dreaming. She talk about bigger things, things outside this world, things above this ceiling. Boys tuck their head under their necks and curl over the controllers, curl into technology. They explore places that can't be located on any map, they watch men beat up other men and congratulate the meanest, the toughest.They don't care if girls don't like that sort of thing, or if that sort of thing upsets girls.

Girl's not so important to men, except if they need compassion, attention, affection, love, sex, someone to talk to, someone to listen to them, someone to stroke their ego, someone to stroke their beautiful skin and remind them they are beautiful.
Girl's gotta remind herself that she's beautiful. Girl's gotta listen to the good things she says about herself, and if she can't think of anything to say then she won't think nothing of herself.
Girl, she want the same from the boy as the boy does from her.
But she's running out of patience.
And she loves you all so much, she loves it all, yeah, she can see technology is exciting and advanced and scary and wonderful. But she won't get excited.
She's running, running, running out of patience.
She's gettin' sick of waitin'.
And one day she'll stand in front of you, but you won't see her anymore, just another whore, just another body, another idiot who don't care about boys, for their lovely selves. Will only see a piece of meat.
And then it's all fucked... really.

I want so much to care for someone else. I want so much to share all my love, and give it to another, another who's worthy, who wants it, who embraces it, and loves the love I want to give.
But I can't do that all on my own. After all, I'm just a helpless girl.

fucking do it

Wed, 10 Jun 2009 00:48:15 GMT

Last legs last legs.
I am clever, sort of. I can do this.

Sign language starts tomorrow. Yipee!
Must sleep.
Must finish.

But when will it finish?
When will i feel the finish?
Last legs. Argh. Phrase mixed up. At least I know my grammar.

I hate you for thinking bad things about me, for thinking I am stupid, for not noticing me, or asking how I am, for not caring about me anymore.
This is one ruts. I'm bored. I'm the first to admit it. I don't have any guts though.
And frankly, it's beautiful.
I should concentrate on that - it doesn't make me shallow.
#
Fuck you all!