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Loneliness is not from an absence of social interaction, but the lack of a very specific social interaction that one is craving: either from a particular group of people or individual.
Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: The Futureheads - Hounds of Love (Phones' Wolves at the Door Remix)
Currently Eating: Home Made Turkey Soup
Disappointment haunts my steps: a corridor born of poor habits, academic withdrawal, and shades from my past. The sharpness in her eyes, I could read them better than anyone's. I didn't need to turn around to see what she looked like. You learn things about someone when you knew them when they were young, things you don't forget. You always wear white socks, always all in black except for white socks.
The next day I stopped, like I had been discovered, like someone had looked into my pandora's box and I wanted my secret back. She noticed that too. I wonder if she remembers. I wonder what secrets of mine she has, what she got in exchange for the ones I have. You don't have weight like that in your eyes without knowledge, or am I assuming a lack of self-absorbedness that isn't there?
I have a phobia, a classical one, regarding those who I interact with sexually. I've been thinking about that, the idea of the big R relationship, and how it's a myth. Merely serving to further mysticise sexuality in all its aspects. What, so your best friend isn't significant whereas an other you fuck is? A thing to wrap jealousy and possession around.
I fear abandonment. Sometimes that feeling is valid, based in knowledge and reason. Othertimes it is insecurity given breath, like the rib of Adam into his third wife. And the unrelenting force of it causes me to not see which is which. Sometimes the unreasonable seems not, and the understanding of loss is dismissed.
Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Goldfrapp - Deer Stop
Call it weakness, call it attachment, call it idealisation, call it relation, call it biological imperative, no matter what term or phrase you use to name it...
I miss her.
Not the one I almost married, not the one who my family thought I should marry, not the other who I would have asked to marry me, not the one I wanted to marry me, but the one I shouldn't.
The one whom I have even the slightest right to miss.
I don't care if there is no magic. I do not care if love and affection are chemical processes in the brain, moments of insanity akin to being drunk or high, an alteration of the median state in the experience of our species. I do not crave neediness, or frequent attention, or identification of the I as we. I do not need anyone but myself.
The only person who makes you happy or sad is yourself. People with all the reason in the world to be happy are sometimes sad, and people with all the reason in the world to be sad are sometimes happy. Over himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign.
But I love her so much, and I miss her. And not a soft remembrance, but a grasping, pulling, tearing, violent way. The feeling that shakes down your body from your mind to your fingertips, the line that distinguishes love and lover, wrapping them together in firm embrace.
Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: still Beatles...
Alternative Title: You Are Allowed To Be Wrong
I walked along the sea-side with my mother this morning. It was warm enough to not to even suggest a jacket, even at the water's edge. Sister stayed home, father was out getting his father, and brother is where it drops to 30 below. It was really nice. It still inspired remembrances of a movie that involved a plum girl and snow on a beach, and I mentioned as much. There is some wonderful level of empathy present between us in our mutual love of that movie... That, our mutual affection towards Zertz, and many other simple similarities.
Hey, I don't remember the use of a tambura, tabla, and indian violin on this album... that's awesome...
It may sound strange, but this is the first December in eight years I've not been with someone, where there hasn't been some tug-of-war between families of one signifiant other and myself. I didn't buy anyone presents, not even my family. The whole affair has been very surreal for me, but rather nice.
I feel like my loves' names are written across my soul; I'm not even sure how else to express it. Like etching into stone, yet somehow the presence of their names adds mass instead of removing it. I feel... worn... and while school can take a huge portion of the blame, that is an often-wrought lie that I wrap around myself. Sometimes I think I wish it wasn't so, but truth be told I'm still uncertain. Changing oneself is a large endeavour.
Be careful with your dreams, you become what you dream.
Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart Club Band (full album)
Currently Eating: so full...
It is done.
Happy Fucking Holidays.
No, I mean that.
I wish you all the best.
Oh, just download the fucking music and have yourself a happy winter.
Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Collide - The Lunatics Have Taken Over the Asylum
Writing history is constructing a coherent story of some facet of the human condition through time. Such a construction exists only in the human mind. We do not recreate the past; we construct stories about the past. But to be good history, the story must give a consistent, logical account and be constrained by the available evidence and the available theory.
- Douglass North, "Institutions, Institutional Change, Performance"
It's not done yet.
Written On: Home Computer
PS2 Game Of The Moment: God of War
PS Google Scholar is my fucking hero.
And yet, any joy from that act is quickly drained into the sink-hole of the fact I am still not done. That fucking sword of damacles that is my literature review still hangs above my head. And I don't even have a topic anymore; a slew of papers are strewn across my coffee table and my desktop and I'm not even sure what I'm even researching for. A string of expletives would probably best describe my thoughts on that issue.
I could just eat glass I'm so frustrated.
Written On: Home Computer
I was going to go home, but we visited Angus instead and threw down some Super Smash Bros, and the mongoose lent me a slew of PS2 games, including God of War and Shadow of the Colossus. Glee! Then, they headed off to a hockey game and - while I seemed to have missed a dinner out with Beth and Genevieve - Tim, Navi, and Travis quickly arrived to fill my time. They too left, only to be replaced by Patti and Meghan.
The day was... unproductive... to say the least. Hopefully I've gotten back some of my social graces that my time in isolation has taken from me.
I do so dislike hurting people, now I have done it twice to her. Even though the last probably was worse from an outside perspective, this one probably cut deeper. Being disliked is better than being forgotten.
Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Collide - Some Kind Of Strange (full album)
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Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: The Birthday Massacre - Violet (full album)
There is a part of me that just wants to leave it at the picture, that Skatia's appearance accurately depicts the amount of frustration I'm currently having due to his antics. But that's teasing.
So, Skatia got out. Gods know how, but he did. There's only one way out of my house, and that's a big door that humans have trouble opening and closing, let alone ferrets. He was safely in the confines of the house as me and Dominique left. Upon my return, he was no where to be found. I didn't worry so much, Jhayne says that occasionally he can disappear without a trace. However, even at this point I had my doubts, I know my house really well and if there's a hiding spot I don't know about it's news to me. But, I figured I'd just trust in the idea that I might not know all the nooks and crannies of my house and went to sleep.
I woke up the next day, still no ferret. Eventually, my good neighbour Jim knocks on my door and asks if I lost a little fellar. I admit that I have and he mentions that Skatia broke into his apartment. The madness of this is almost too much, but I accept this. Jim, not knowing what to do with the little dude, put him in the boiler room for safe keeping. It was warm, he figured, and not particularly dangerous. Well, good ol' Jim was right, but he didn't think of the filth that this plan would involve. Skatia was black (see above) by the morning.
I've bathed him, and made some attempts to further ferret proof the house. I've gone a bit overboard, dealing with things I know he can't get into, but... just in case...
Written On: Home Computer
I just finished my Economics of Natural Resources final. I am... disappointed. I got one of the highest grades on the first midterm, and got the highest grade on the second. The final was my kind of final, mostly open-ended and with choice. But the questions surprised me, ended up being more complicated than I had anticipated and I found in each question something I was unsure of. I possibly made question choice errors, avoiding a certain question because, for the life of me, I don't understand why the addition of a depreciation rate would cause the fact that maximum economic yield would necessarily have a higher fish stock than maximum sustainable yield to fall into question. I should understand, but I don't.
It's sad really, this one really looked like the economics course that would finally give me an A+. You know, for all my Honoursness I still haven't gotten one of those? Even in Intermediate Macroeconomics II, where I got the highest mark in the class, I only got an A (I suppose it is some small consolation that no one else got an A+ either). I'm kinda upset by that, but oh well, life goes on.
Two down, two to go.
My literature review looms on the horizon, an undefined dragon that belches black uncertainty. Tomorrow, I'll start reading, hopefully that will give me direction. World Music Cultures, on the other hand, should be my final attempt at a capture of an A+, even though it isn't in my field.
I was joking with Megali that my inbox and sentbox were littered with my love life, perhaps a digital attempt at caging it. Get in there, and stay there, I'd tell it, hoping that I can contain my emo-ness within its confines. I can't, but it is an entertaining parable.
I finished the Sandman cycle by Neil Gaiman, and was amazed how much of it I had already read without knowing that I had. It took me too long by my friends' estimations, but my speed at reading has never been olympic. It struck me, and I must say I'm quite blown away by the entire thing. Inspired and humbled. It is strange to see oneself, reflected in the anthropomorphic representation of a concept, your human flaws and virtues painted upon the face of an ageless being. That's because you're king of the goths, teases my dreadlocked sister. Yes, I suppose it is extra gothy of my to not want to be it, either?
Well, it makes me feel better that if you were older than me, you'd be Death. At least we can be certain Jhayne's position is Desire.
Written On: Laptop
I went to a party tonight, a video game party that didn't involve men getting partly naked and having permanent marker art drawn on them. No, instead there was xbox, PS2, NES, MAME, and a slew of other acronyms, with a dash of Zertz and Chai to spice. I got lost in God of War and can't help but agree with Chris, the beginning is really as good as it gets. Hulk 2 provided some amusement, as well as watching Meghan play Dr. Mario for an amazing amount of time. Oh, and Might Moshin' Emo Rangers is something you really should watch.
I'm feeling rather alone lately. A mix of sorrow and uncertainty. I need to make my peace, and that's only possible by myself. That's how I work, I like the silence of being alone, of being able to be melancholic without explanation. The closest person to understanding that is Megali, but a presence is still a presence. Sin City is tomorrow, but I won't go. Studying and... well... aloneness is in the cards.Not that I'm concerned about classes at all. Philosophy is done and I doubt I'll ever take one again (I'm pretty sure everything in Undergraduate Philosophy is too basic to keep my attention or just not of interest to me at all, although I could be wrong). Economics of Natural Resources, I will probably be one of the highest, if not the highest, grade in the class and I'll study for maybe a day. World Music Cultures will merely mean a cram day or two with Beth and presto, A+ here we come.
The literature review for my thesis, however, scares me. In fact, the whole thing does. I'm so incredibly uncertain of myself in this regard. My thesis topic has changed, although to what I'm uncertain. It is comforting to think that next semester all I have to do is get at least 80% in fourth year Econometrics and finish my thesis and POW my honours degree is done. Scary, but comforting.
Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Postal Service - Give Up
Three more classes to go.
Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Hieroglyphics - Heatish
Amusement abounds!
January 2005:
Hey, this is my 101st entry.
February 2005:
I just realised that I don't believe in karma.
March 2005:
April 2005:
May 2005:
Strapped into place, leather bound and tongue tied, rubbing against my skin and teeth.
June 2005:
Bile and hurt rise up into my throat, and I feel like writing an other poem titled "Fuck You" that I end up deleting but ends up getting caught in the RSS feed for all to see.
July 2005:
Everytime I think my life is dramatic, I go and read Chris' blog.
August 2005:
I thought of a funny way to put what's happened in my life when talking to my mother: It is so like me, that when I need a vacation, I find a job I can bury myself in.
September 2005:
I half expected you to be there, asleep on my couch.
October 2005:
November 2005:
I don't think I really accomplished anything terribly productive this weekend.
December 2005:
Written On: Home Computer
Aeon Flux sucked. Why is it that dystopian action flicks are so hard for hollywood to do right? I mean, they were so close on so many marks. I loved the sets, the city, the gadgets, the plot itself was rather believable, and the fact that they didn't bother explaining how any of the futuretech shit worked, it just did. Yet, trite hollywood-induced love dialogue that made George Lucas look like some kind of modern Sappho (ok, that comparison is upsetting, but oh well), as well as positively abysmal pacing, cinematography, choreography, and editing got in the way. I mean, I didn't even like the original Aeon Flux so I can't even complain about how it doesn't even remotely resemble the series. I just wanted, well, a movie that didn't make me feel distinctly disappointed at seeing it. Despite the fact that the plot had the decided potential of making a very good movie with basically no alterations, the writer's complete inability to write dialogue and the director's complete inability to... well... direct, ruined what, ultimately, was not that bad an idea.
Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Gioachino Rossini - Barber of Seville
Currently Eating: the same pasta
What exactly am I to do I do with all of this? A lifetime of relationship mistakes; it seems to be my primary failing. You've given me great faith in the idea of reconciliation. And yet I create such a huge need for it. Perhaps it is better that I just let things go, move on as my detractors have demanded before.
I find lately I haven't been able to write about that which is bothering me. Perhaps it is that words fail, that an absence of communication is all I have. That a girl that hides behind nervous halting smiles is right. All I know is that our love is like being strangled, and perhaps that is all the only love I truly understand.
I remember being unable to sleep alone, having her presence a requirement, like air to my dreams. I try so hard to not be like that anymore, to tear that part from me every time I see it reflected in her eyes, in her words. But I'm here again, aren't I?
Perhaps that is why Erin always seemed so strange to me, so foreign. Our relationship was so frightfully... normal. Full of jealousies and insecurities but none of the gasping madness. The tearful tear that screams I need you. Even now, her happiness in love makes me sick, like eating food of so distant a culture that my palette simply cannot appreciate what must surely be good. Happiness in that regard is bitter, with all the inbuilt associations with poison that it brings.
Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Samuel Barber - Adagio for strings
Currently Eating: Kamut Pasta w/ Tomato Sauce and Parmesan
There aren't words.
Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: The Postal Service - This Place Is A Prison
Three sleepless nights (I know, he kept calling me at three in the morning) helped me understand what was necessary to make Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead possible. That is what my job was, to determine whether it could go from now to play by the 21st. I would have needed the entire cast entirely on board, there for every single rehearsal until the 21st and then some. Maja blurted out then the play can't happen, solving the problem rather effectively, and no one else seemed all that surprised. The commitment required did not match finals-time schedules.
I'm tired, kinda nauseas feeling from both the roughly 15 hours worth of work spent on this over the last three days and the sleeplessness it entailed. I made the right decision, because nothing else could have been done. I am a bit sad, but, pragmatist at heart, I am satisfied.
Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: World Music - Japan - Mushi no Aikata - Shamisen
I just decided to take on the mantle of Director for Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead. I refused to see it not happen, and things were frankly not working. Over the last 48 hours I have managed to finally see what the production is all about, and while that is tremendously exciting, I'm so nervous I could throw up.
I have five things that need to happen in December. That's it, five, nothing else.
Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Kalinnikov - Symphony No.1 in g (i - Allegro moderato
