Random Thoughts

Crunchy. It really is the only way to describe how I've been feeling lately. Everything is a push and a shove and I'm threading my way awkwardly through human interaction with some small measure of success and bits and pieces of me are flying off in the process. I think I'm doing better, balancing my natural avoidance with forced but needed communication. I've finally decided to start getting over him, which really is a good thing, I guess, but sad still.

I've said it now to three people, once out of guilt and twice because I meant it. It really does last, too, which is something that surprises me still. I think I'm going to wait a long time before I say it again though, because the hurt seems to increase somewhat exponentially. Perhaps I'll be the coy one and wait for someone else to say it first.

I shouldn't be reading the books that I'm reading right now - books my mother left in my house, books of depression, suicide, love and loss. Or maybe I should, as a warning - I can see myself in them (and probably my mother, too) and see what I will not allow to happen.

I was told I'm good at organization. This shocks me - I am? Cool.

I'm not sure I'm capable of falling for people who don't have an extra measure of intensity mixed in - this might prove to be a problem, but I think it'll sort itself out. Contrary to what one might believe of an emotional creature, I can take care of myself. If I need help I'll ask, and if I don't then on my head be it.

I went shopping for children's toys today. EVERYTHING cool is made in China. The only little things I could find that weren't were finger traps (oddly made in the US), strange noisemakers and semiprecious stones. I didn't see any lego where I was, but I have a sad feeling. I really, really wanted to buy the little dinosaurs and bouncy balls but damn. just no. I managed not to stop in at long and Mcquade and probably saved myself about fifty bucks by the avoidance... the money for my flight to Toronto is scarily not there at the moment, with my mom unable to help me. I shall have to ask father dear, which fills me with horror. augh.

My sister's work place is cool beyond belief. We sat and watched ten frightening little flash animations they made for an american company encouraging kids to be entrepreneurs - the highlight being the rap version of american history with the eagle breathing fire to light the torch of the statue of liberty. ha. They have drawers full of random art supplies, stuffed animals roam the rooms freely, yarn creatures with movable heads and weird eyes sit upon tables...yeah...coolness.

I think I want a llama. llama. I could just go around saying that all the time...llama...llaaaaammmaa. LLAMA!
Yeeah. You probably don't want to be around me right now.

Posted by Beth at 11:19 PM | Permalink

Or listen to this: Taraf de Haidouks

Posted by Beth at 11:50 AM | Permalink

Sometimes I just don't deal well with people.

I don't like dancing, I've discovered, when I can't move at all. Odd, that. As I was leaving, the type of guy who always seems to notice when I'm in a particular mood ended up convincing me to dance with him. It was nice of him and he was amusing for a dance or two, but ultimately I get tired of the 'sexy dance with the same two steps' really quickly. I thanked him and left.

quasi-related; I seem to be grating on people lately, and vice versa. I'm not quite sure what's going on there. Maybe it's just the end of my social phase for a while and I should give up and hide. Might be, I suppose, but then I'm also feeling stupidly lonely. Of course, that particular emotion's been defined here before. bah. it's probably time to eat something and go to sleep.

Incidentally, the title's directed at myself, so don't take offense.

Posted by Beth at 12:58 AM | Permalink

I simply refuse to avoid people based on mysterious and unspecific gossipy warnings. Tisk.

I'm going to try to up my practice time to two hours a day as default next week, slowly working up to around 3-4 as a good resting place. I'm amazed at how much better my playing has gotten just in the last while (you'd think practicing regularly instead of in frantic binges actually worked or something?!?) and I'm really starting to look forward to my recital next year. I figure I'll play a bunch of weird French music and possibly one happy easy listening one for the people who hate French music...but wait, they hate French music, shouldn't I be punishing them? hah. yes. Though I imagine I should probably play something from another genre.

Teaching is making me wish that I'd listened a little more when my mom was blathering on about developmental psychology - sometimes I just go way too fast for the little ones, even when I'm trying to go slowly. I discovered that most of them really like to be casually quizzed on what they know though, especially if they know the answers. ha. I just have to figure out a reward system that has something in it for boys - they don't seem to like stickers very much...

I have random social urges...very random though, which usually means nothing really happens. Luckily though, my one other equally random friend has time this week, which means coffee and fluteness and random catching up. It still seems like yesterday that we were discussing how it would probably be smart if, before ever getting drunk for the first time, we locked ourselves in a padded room, possibly in straight-jackets.

I'm bitchy and happy and flirting, but I just don't want more right now. I hold in what I'm thinking because it really isn't appropriate to say exactly what you're thinking all the time. I may, however, open my mouth and destroy your preconceptions at some point, if you keep asking. Just punishment or something.

Posted by Beth at 12:59 AM | Permalink

Somewhere there's a bowl of steel crying out to be fed and all it gets is feathers. It had a heart once. It had three but they're gone now: one broken, one eaten, one lost.

My own reflection, my own thoughts, my own fears and dreams fill the air and I can't help but gasp for a breath of air uncoloured by their haze. No one makes you sad, you make you sad. No one makes you sad unless you let them. If you notice and you let them you must want to be sad.

setting a date for withdrawal of our troops is setting a date for failure...

I think of elderly ladies remarking on those who march to the beat of a different drum as though it were a pleasant privilege that people with no responsibilities, or perhaps morals, get to have. I was gliding through a comic again, and was struck by the beauty of the face given to an old whore. She was drawn all bone and skin and crinkles and her eyes were somewhere else; it's the thing that makes me think of the old men who I'd talk to for hours just to hear their stories if I had the nerve. We try to run from it mostly, women, girls forever, paint and surgery and horror of wrinkles and white hairs. And yet it's power, age, when you accept it, and maybe no one will listen to your stories, but they're there, in every line and hollow and useless flap of skin.

I'm growing up, finally! I thought, immediately wondering how soon I'd realize otherwise and laughing at myself a little.

I worry about the people who won't worry about me, too. I suppose it might be genetic or inherited, in a way, though that doesn't mean I won't fight it. I convince myself I worry because I want to comfort, and maybe that's half true? I convince myself I don't care, and I'm fairly certain that's not true. I convince myself that it doesn't matter, really, and maybe I should become what I criticize, screaming, so quietly.

I realize I need to change my own behaviour first, which is certainly easier said than done.

Posted by Beth at 12:49 AM | Permalink