Sunday, December 26, 2010

Christmas Morn

My morning started off (again) just lovely!
After 48minutes of being very smiley and giggly (wait, really? Giggly? aye), I said my goodnights and crawled back into bed for about ten minutes.
Then I hauled my ass out of bed because I've been wanting to make pancakes for the family again and if not this morning, then it's likely never. Especially with how the schedules are looking.

So it was Blueberry-banana pancakes. Well, more banana and just a smattering of blueberries.
The colour looks nice though. I trial-ed and error-ed, as the making of pancakes always start and then it looked nice and started stacking up while the rest of the house started getting out of bed.
Turns out there were plans today.
Except seeing as I'd made breakfast, my family stayed home while the extended went to pick up my Granduncle for brunch. They grabbed some of the pancakes though and said it tasted great.
Guess I can't ask for more, and I'm happy.

So it's eleven on Christmas morning. I wanted to go to church today, except well, most churches start at ten and I couldn't bloody pull up anything online.
Google was supposed to be my friend):

It hasn't felt very much like Christmas. And that doesn't make me feel the happiest.
I don't know how I managed to drop over a hundred dollars when I popped into target yesterday. I am STILL most flummoxed indeed.
Minor digression:
Leans over to The Little Creature, seating across the table
Me: I STILL don't know how I managed to spend a hundred bucks yesterday. A hundred and five!
TLC: Chuckles
Me: No, no. Really. I really don't know!
TLC: Did you check the receipt?
Me: Yeahhh.

Me: Noooo.

So anyway! I am very disturbed, like, what in the world could I possibly have been buying at Target? Nonsense.

In other news, TLC's passing on information from her friend about the club scene in Frisco.
"haha," she says, "You don't get hit on. They just grab you."
Most disturbing indeed.

There're a couple of blogs I read (No, it is not stalking dammit.)
And there's this one person's in particular. I've only met her a couple of times, and she's really nice although I can't say I know her very well.
But that's the thing about blogs, they're a whole lot more personal than we realize. (For some reason, I feel old saying the word 'blog', but I digress!)

So anyway, I'll admit there are sometimes that I find myself a tad taken aback by what she writes. Sometimes I find myself with an eyebrow raised, sometimes I laugh, sometimes I am left puzzled, and sometimes, honestly, it becomes a sort of seedling that grows into a plant with overgrown roots and I find myself trippin'.
(Then I get quiet, and asked what's wrong and I say "Nothing" when actually I mean,
"Nothing that I know how to say". But eventually I talk about it, we talk about it, and then it becomes okay.)

And that's because those are words (this blogger's written words that is) at their most raw and most honest. And no one should ever be blamed for that.
Amongst the couple of reactions I have whenever I find myself reading this person's writings, I have quite often found myself hoping that things will get better for her.

I don't know what she's thinking, what makes her tick and what doesn't. Or what it is that upsets her. I do know that there is someone we both know who makes her smile, and quite easily at that. And that's always nice. And it's nice to read about her being happy.
Aside from that though, all I know is what I've read and what I have/can perceive from the outside.
So, on the now-and-thens that something seems to be up, I hope it gets better for her.
That if something hurts or is hurting, it'll start to ease up. Because there's only so much that a person can take after all.
And I hope and wish, because that's about the only thing I can do as I read her writings, can't quite do any more than that.

I don't even know why I've written all of this out. Don't think I quite meant to, especially because it might seem a bit odd/strange. Don't think I ever meant for anybody to even know this. But uhm, I felt very much like saying this and also, I'm counting heavily on the fact that the only people who ever read this page are Victor and Vicky (who laugh at me for being emo and/or psychotic) and uhm, Fishbone. No, not even Buttons. Buttons just likes to sit on the computer.

to you, who I barely know, I hope things aren't too unbearable and that they'll look up for you soon. More than that, I hope you find it in yourself to cope with whatever it is you happen to be going through.


So this Christmas is different.

I'm going to go for a run now and come home and bake the Christmas Cake.
The Christmas Cake which I do not feel like eating. Meh.

Dec 25th 2010, Saturday

Saturday, December 25, 2010


Happy Christmas.

There're so many of you who mean so much to me back in the sunny spore that
i just might call home for a while more.
Miss you tonnes, and can't wait to see you guys. Really(:

In the meantime, the family's liking the new look of our apartment-
Thanks a whoooole lot(:
I hope you guys have a tonne of fun. I can't believe I'm missing out on this again. This is SO two years ago.
Keep at the holiday spirit darlings!
Just please, don't have sex on my couch.

And for the other people left out of the weird cuddle-pile that's been happening in my living room,
I hope you make sure to enjoy your log cake and turkey/roast chicken and sock-wearing puppy in the most wholesome of ways!

< 3

December 25th 2010, Friday

The fight for you is all I've ever known

Well that passed really quickly! ^^

I need to stop being so angsty and sounding so psychotic.

My run was nice, and I sent my Christmas wishes across the world...
aaaaand, I will go for Midnight mass(:

I am a happy girl this evening.

And yes, Christmas and Christmas eve especially has brought a melancholic tinge these last couple of years.
But it'll be okay.
I'm happy now, and thats alright(:

Merry Christmas Eve from this side of the world.

Oh my God.
Fuck this shit. I am fucking tired. And this is the first time I've been so angry and honestly bordering on hating Christmas.
I think it's because I'm not cutting myself.

And just for the record, the only reason I'm not cutting myself, is because I'm too fucking tired to think of clothes I can wear in an effort to hide myself.

I need to run. I'm going to run now.

On another note-
I'm baking a cake for the family for Christmas.
And I bought Vicky's present today. But it doesn't feel very special. So I might...
oh wait, I just remembered what I actually wanted to get you for Christmas so the top that I just picked up doesn't count.

I'm going to run now.

Friday, December 24, 2010

believe me

I'd do anything.

and sometimes, just sometimes, the truth of that scares me

she's fighting her first instinct,
choosing instead to write.
And so she will. She will.
She will write and write until the dull throb she feels subsides, until she's emptied out, until she's not fighting against herself anymore.

I wish I found it easier to talk with you about this one thing. It never did seem to exist, but it's come to be and made itself especially distinct in my time away.
It being this particular subject.

The brilliant thing about us has always been how we can talk. And we can.
About anything and everything.
V's pointed out how great a thing that is.
And I love that about you, I've loved that about you.
I loved that about you.

I don't know what changed.

I'd like to talk about things like this with you though, I would.
And I'll work on it. Promise I will.
So I should start by not lying and saying I can do this by myself. Because I don't think I could.

And I'm not sure where to even begin but-
I'll take a deep breath and flip open pages for you

December 24th 2010, Friday

only almost

It's the first hour into Christmas eve and I just got back from what was supposed to be dinner with Meesh in Pasadena.
Instead, we ended up meeting friends, hanging out and going to this Korean Bbq place in Culver City. It wasn't half bad.

So no, we didn't catch that movie, but we chatted the whole drive back and then some.
I gave the brownies I baked to Jenny's kids- who are incredibly adorable by the way- aaaaand, well that's pretty much it. The time flew by rather quick actually.

It's not feeling a whole lot like Christmas. I hate that it's not.
I hate that it's not because Christmas is my favourite time of the year, and I just loooove the Christmas bustle. Except. Well, except there's none of that.
I hope tomorrow (or later today) gets better.

December 24th 2010, Friday

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

I've been waiting for you

Hello world
Hope you’re listening
Forgive me if I’m young
For speaking out of turn

There’s someone I’ve been missing
I think that they could be
The better half of me

I'll come home soon-

there's a track on repeat. And there aren't anymore weekdays or weekends.
Instead, we're a stream of last minute sick-leaves, random grass patches, midday picnics and time that always runs out on us

So hello you,
I find that I've been thinking about you quite a bit.
Dizzyingly organized aisles of groceries, Ikea tents with its Christmas specials and warm restaurants with Christmas songs spilling from their glass doors- they're not quite the same without you.

I think you'd like it here.
But at the same time, I'm less "wish you were here" as much as I am
"Wish I was with you right about now."

I miss you, I realize. And I could do with being with you.

December 20th 2010, Monday

"For another E right! Right?!" --Bird

cos I love you more than I could ever promise

Monday, December 20, 2010

Point proven.

We fall down, cry, pick ourselves up.
Put our fingers back into that same electrical-socket just because our tiny fingers can fit in.
Still touch the kettle after it sings its song.

All we can do,
is look at the next person and say,
"I'm tired, I can't do this anymore. Please don't hurt me,
because i don't have the strength left to cry."

-- April 2008

It surprises me, how I search desperately for words that mean the same damn thing,
two years later,
and then find it in my archives.

If you really wanted someone, you'd keep them.

Or try.

I don't like the yucky mushy love stuff. Not for the most part.
There are a lot of things (I feel) that don't need to be spelt out or said. Which isn't to say that people should go around assuming their significant other knows exactly what's happening or that they have magically developed the ability to read minds,
I'm just saying that one ought to have a certain level of self-awareness.

There are a few things that I believe in. Sometimes they overlap or seem a tad bit contradicting, and when that happens, I work that out with myself. Here's a random 10.
1) All the things you hold on too tightly to, will slip right through your fingers
2) You can love someone with everything that you are, but it doesn't necessarily mean that you're good for them.
3) More people need to acknowledge and come to terms with point 2
4) You need to appreciate the company of yourself, before you can appreciate being with company.
5) Relationships aren't a walk in the park, and it sure as hell can get painful. But it isn't supposed to be that fucking difficult either.
In other words, if you're crying everyday trying to make it work, get yourself a tub of Ben & Jerry's, break up and sit at home for a while.
6) Don't take things too personally-
Someone will come along and, almost magically, that person will stop smoking/will do laundry/ will cook/ will not cheat/ will put the toilet seat down. Don't beat yourself up if it doesn't happen with you.
7) If they're going to cheat, they're going to cheat. Whether you're watching or have your back turned. Whether you're 10 feet from them or oceans apart.
8) You do not have to be with someone to be happy
9) Your cat will always love you
10) Some people are creme brule, some people are jello. But someone will bring out both sides in you.


So Meesh picked me up at ten past one today and we spent the next three hours and fifty minutes driving about aimlessly. Well, we were supposed to get to Pasadena, but clearly that didn't happen. And then he thought, "Hey why not Beverly Hills?" Except clearly that didn't work out. So finally I said, "Pick whichever exit you feel like and we'll look for food there."
And we took exits, but didn't find food. Or we did, but didn't feel compelled to park and get out of the car. So we kept driving and talking and driving and talking ("Why am I only meeting you now?!" He demanded at some point), and driving. Until I pointed out Mimi's Cafe where we finally stopped and I introduced him to the French Onion Soup and he realized that if he loved me, it'd be for all the right reasons.
But I figure, it might have to do with the fact that we were doing repetition in the car, at random intervals.
Not half bad for a rainy day in my opinion.

I'm back from some wholesome (VERY) Asian Grammy-cooking this evening, choosing that over Gwendoline Yeo's amazing performance. Oh wells):


I quite remember the first girl I saw for a bit.
Because the precise moment I realized that I might possibly feel for her, was the beginning of about a fifteen minute lapse before I saw myself out of that room only planning to not see her again.

I hate feeling like I'm trying too hard.
And I get tired, mostly of myself, when it starts feeling like what I feel may just be a bit too much.
I get scared; Because feeling as much as you do only allows for the possibility of hurting in that same amount. And the only person at fault is yourself.


"So what do you want?"
"I need to know that what I'm doing won't slap me back in the face. That I'm not being stupid."
"So, what do you want?"
"For it to be alright to want this." She inhales sharply, "And as much as I do."


Callie: So if you were driving down a highway and saw a pothole on the road ahead, what would you do,
straddle or swerve?
Sara: Mm, straddle. You>
Callie: Straddle.
Sara: Swerve.
Callie: Nah-ah
Sara: Yes you would.

Callie: Ok, a rabbit. Straddle, swerve or brake.
Sara: Screech to a brake, check the rabbit, then- smoke. You?
Callie: Brake.
Sara: Swerve.
-- Stop Kiss, By Diana Son. An Excerpt


"Will you just say what you mean?"
She does, sometimes. Or sure as hell tries.
But most times,
like now, like today,
she swerves.

Dear T,
you've got enough of me to break.
I can't be anymore honest than that.


December 19th 2010, Sunday

Sunday, December 19, 2010

You're going to need a break sometime soon...

I miss seeing you happy.
Like, completely and utterly, whole-heartedly happy. The sort of happy that feels like a fist unclenching, that feels like you're speeding on the freeway with the roof of your car down.
The sense of abandonment that makes the rest of the world seem like a trainwreck you've stepped out of.

I wish I could take away all the bothersome things that you could very well do without. Make you pancakes on the weekend mornings, and kiss you goodnight just as you're about to fall asleep.
Take you to the quietest rivers with mini jafacakes in hand.
I'm not saying they'll make everything alright, or solve all the problems in the world. But it might just be the tiniest bit of a thing to smile at.

I miss seeing you happy.
I really, really do.

December 18th 2010, Saturday

Just for now

She's filled a folder marked Happy Pill, a collection of pictures. In her browser history, filling pages and pages of journal entries.

There are things you've made less painful for me, words I've lost with you when I've done the spiel before in my sleep. Parts of me you've opened up and made me look at, afore-made decisions that you've had me rethink.

I don't always know how you feel, or how I make you feel. I don't ever know how to begin asking. I don't know how you think about things, or what you feel when you remember.
And I don't ever know how to begin asking.
Sometimes the uncertainty makes me trail off. Sometimes it makes me tilt my head when I look at you.
I don't know when I got like that, and I don't ever know how to begin asking.

I find myself in the children's section of Borders, running my fingers along the spine of Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree with a half smile. Then I'm sitting on couches, too big, too comfortable, too empty, too full with the promises of warmth.

This is how I miss you;
Finding myself doing things I'd prefer to do with your company, seeing places I think you'd like, laughing at things I think you might laugh at too.
But mostly, realizing that I don't have to be here.

Saturday, December 18th 2010

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

She'll come round soon

I remember when Prince William turned twenty-one, had his face put on a stamp so that the rest of the world could lick his behind and stick him on the corner of an envelope.
He was dishy, back then. And Harry was busy smoking pot.

But he's older now, they both are.
And our prince is sorta balding.

Rebecca, one of my favourite writers (alongside Neil Gaiman, Pink and Sara Bareilles), has been writing about change recently.
How nothing's permanent, even tattoos. Her tattoos. Which she loves, and which, imperfect as they are, have found themselves meaning as they grew with her.

In this space of time I'm in right now, I love that idea.

My entire life's been pretty transient.
I've never held on to things, because I've always been in transit.
I hopped off a train around my birthday almost seventeen years back, and I got lost at that train station. I left some part of myself behind that day, and no one's gone back to look for her. Not even me.
Don't remember my flight into Singapore, or realizing that we'd be here a while. I've still been at that train station, waiting to take the train heading in the opposite direction.
I've still been waiting to go back home.

It's changed though. Home's changed. For sure it has.
Edinburgh might still have a house with a blue door, but it's changed. As has The Nooks in Mottingham. As has London.
As have I.

I've lived all my life with two suitcases by the door. Moving in but never unpacking, apprehensive about everything and anything that might tie me down for more than a year. There's always so much that's supposed to happen in the year, it's laughable.

I've always been in transit-
waiting, looking, taking off and coming back just to quell that insatiable need to move and be moving.

Somewhere between doing groceries by myself and half-skipping along reservoirs with Jafacakes for dinner, something inside me's shifted.

There's a lot for me here, where I'm at. Not San Gabriel specifically but, LA.
Family and the most picturesque dreams and plans that have been years in the making. Years.
But almost seventeen years in this train station's made me realize that, there's a whole load that I haven't seen coming and there's a whole lot more that I won't be able to see just yet. This doesn't mean that I'm daunted.
It just means that there's a whole stretch of train tracks that I can walk along, on my own, until the distant call of the train engine asks me to hop off the tracks to let it pass, or to let me hop on.

I've spent too long waiting on this platform.
I've spent too long watching people in long coats and brown leather briefcases stride past me, completely sure of where they're going, while I've traced circles in the marble floor with the toe of my shiny black shoes.
I outgrew those shoes years ago and didn't even realize it. My dress shrank and my hair grew out and got bleached by the sun.
I'm a wee bit taller than 90cm now, and it looks like I'll need my own ticket.

Can't keep going 25% in four different directions. Can't stand here and wait for the line that will let you go 100% in one direction.
When you decide, you do. And then you go for it.
And you trust yourself, to trust yourself.

Wait for me?

December 14th 2010, Tuesday

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Last Friday was tricksy.
Unexpectedly emotional, and in many ways, I don't know if I'm ready to go back there. (that emotional place that is.)

I disappeared this weekend, finding myself in Orange County looking at model homes.
They were the loveliest things. I found myself wandering about, checking out sofas too.
But this whole grocery shopping, running fingers along different fabrics, it's not half as nice without someone to lace your fingers with and tug pleadingly to sit beside you when you find a couch that tickles your fancy.
I'm way more of a shmuck than I let on.

I had space. If only just from the online world.
I had questions come up, and I know they're not the prettiest questions. But when I was prompted, I asked them.
There isn't an issue of trust or the lack of it. I suppose it's just nice to be sure, to be reassured, now and then. Jeebus, I never quite imagined myself saying that! I totally typed that without quite realizing it was what I meant.

I opted out of the evening DAW this evening. My feet were on their way to dying and if I went back, I'd have been so fucking knackered. I kid you not.
Did groceries with Alexis instead who's cooking tonight and being domesticated after her wild weekend where she lost her phone.

I'm having trouble with my scene partner. There. I said it, fuck it. I'm having trouble and I fucking hate it. I feel like I'm partnered with one of my students, except I'm not the teacher and I can't snap my fingers and say, "Get your game on bitch." (not that I say that to my kids of course. Different backgrounds, different personality, different story altogether.)

I'll bake cookies with Jacq later this evening after dinner, make chocolate for my classmates sometime this week.
Attempt to whip up a salad at some point.
Have a final performance on Wednesday, have my last lesson on Friday.
Catch Black Swan this week, or try to, with Ina.
Lunch date on Wednesday.
Pack for the weekend up in San Diego.
Get my shit together.
breathe. wait, no time for that.
Hang out with the family.
Prep for Christmas.
Work on scripts for Orchid Park, Kuo Chuan and Compassvale.
Pack for Christmas weekend in The OC with Glenn and Renee.
Come back, Pack for Frisco.
Come back in time for New Years.
and uhm

I need to stop thinking about this.

Had a dream the other day about being back in Singapore though.
It was quite a nice dream. I was having dinner with Erika and her friends and I THINK for some reason Vicky was there too. And I was telling them about LA.
And how it felt like it'd only been two weeks. Which, at that point, it had.


Walkies now.

Monday, December 13th 2010

Saturday, December 11, 2010

This is why I need space

We can't be liars if we want to catch the rest of the world out on their lies.

"I have dreams that you have no idea about."
"You have dreams that I have no idea about."
"I have dreams that you have no idea about."
"You have dreams that I have no idea about."

"There's a sparkle in your eye that wasn't there before today."

"I feel absolutely connected to you right now."
"You feel absolutely connected to me right now."
He fights the beginnings of a smile, and then gives in,
"I feel absolutely connected to you right now."

"There's a sadness in your eyes."

"You save people from themselves."
"I save people from themselves," she repeats obediently.
"You save people from themselves."
"I save people from themselves."
"But you'd sorta like someone to save you from you." Her breath catches, and she forces herself to take it all in as she looks back at me. Her eyes spark and fizzle within a half second, and she readjusts herself, breathes.
"I'd sorta like someone to save me from me."

"There are so many facets to you, and you wish people understood you better." She responds.
"There are so many facets to me, and I wish people understood me better."

Today we pushed past using our niceties, happiness and sugar-coated words as a crutch.
I called people out on things, and it was funny, post-Repetition, to have them try and validate themselves. Scramble for words to keep themselves together.
"I'm not saying you weren't genuine," I explained to Tony, "I never said that."
And I didn't.
But we also need to see that there're more sides to us than all this niceness. That we don't have to keep putting a positive spin on everything. That I might not have a fact, but the truth is in my conviction of it.
That I am perfectly capable of calling you out on things you do not want to hear. And I will strip it bare and stop finding a way to phrase it that will make it easier to swallow.
And that I only expect the same thing of you.

The easiest part of acting is playing a character. Fitting ourselves into someone else's skin, trying on personalities and traits for size.
The interesting bit comes, when you're willing to put yourself out there. But before you can do that, you need to know who's going to go up into the glare of those spotlights. Or it won't be any different from the last character you played.

Saturday, December 11th 2010
The silence here is a whole lot louder

Friday, December 10, 2010

I wish this were easier for me.
But then, I don't as well because. Because then it wouldn't be much different.
I wish it were easier to talk though. Because I can, and I have a wee bit.
But not with the person it pertains to, and I just.

I can't trust myself here the way I do when I'm on stage.
There. I said it. I wrote it out, and I'm saying it.
And that's why it's so goddamn difficult.
"Throw your shit at me," I'd say to someone else on stage, "It's called Improv."
And I can trust myself to make it work. So it does.
But I step into the real world and I think and dissect and I feel and I think about feeling and feel about thinking and oh, I'm a mess.

I needed to tell you something on the phone, and it should've been then I know.
But my issues are mine to deal with and I hate spillage. There's enough on your plate, and you've no idea how much I want to be there-
to whine, to take in, to complain, to gag with you, at all the things going on.
How can I even begin to start?

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Well that's real nice hey

bloody delightful.

The Little Creature is on skype with a friend right now.
I haven't heard an authentic singaporean accent in a while.
I don't mind it. I'll go say Hi to her random friend.

And I'll go to class, do one, hopefully two rounds of DAW.

and stop. thinking.
stop thinking.

"Is it possible to just..?"

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Now she's laced, entwined

with the stories that are threaded intricately into my veins, weaving in and out of my pores.
sometimes, sometimes
I half wonder if she knows me better than myself.

I love Christmas, but this time of the year always seems to bring a solid sort of ache.
It almost feels like I'm exactly where I was two years ago,
and the thing is, if I really think about it,
I'm actually not that far off.

I can see it coming already, but I'm trying to hold on to myself and what I have.
Maybe because I'm scared. Yes, perhaps that's it. I'm afraid of myself, a bit.
Without even pretending to understand though, she's always been able to hold me just right,
so I can already imagine breathing.

Car is parked, bags are packed, but what kind of heart doesn't look back
At the comfortable glow from the porch, the one I will still call yours?
All those words came undone and now I'm not the only one
Facing the ghosts that decide if the fire inside still burns

All I have, all I need, he's the air I would kill to breathe
Holds my love in his hands, still I'm searching for something
Out of breath, I am left hoping someday I'll breathe again
I'll breathe again

Open up next to you and my secrets become your truth
And the distance between that was sheltering me comes in full view
Hang my head, break my heart built from all I have torn apart
And my burden to bear is a love I can't carry anymore

All I have, all I need, he's the air I would kill to breathe
Holds my love in his hands, still I'm searching for something

Out of breath, I am left hoping someday I'll breathe again

I wish that I could stay

More than this I wish, you could've seen my face
In backseats staring out, the window

I'll do anything for you
Kill anyone for you

So leave yourself intact
'Cause I will be coming back
In a phrase to cut these lips
I love you

The morning will come
In the press of every kiss
With your head upon my chest
Where I will annoy you
With every waking breath
Until you decide to wake up

cause I'd do anything you want me to for you


Radio VO: And it's a sunny, sunny Morning here in Los Angeles. The streets of San Gabriel are all quiet now that everyone's driven off to work. Some carpeted rooms still have snoring people, while others boast of their silence.
Drive safe, you people on the road. And don't forget to brush your teeth!

Class starts in 45minutes, I should be there in a half hour.
I think my ride's here^^
Hello, DAW. Here I come.
(I hate abbreviations/ acronyms. why do they use so much of it here?)


I hope you wake up glad like a furry caterpillar(:

Tuesday, December 7th 2010

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

I can't promise it'll be enough,
but I love you
Some words I will keep for myself

Monday, December 6, 2010

We don't get two lives to live

What do you want?

I used to always just say that I wanted to be happy.
And I am.
I've never had an "I want" list because if one's happiness is based just on achieving or getting things, then they'll spend their entire lives moving from one achievement to another, in an effort to be happy.
But I think Happy is in the being.

At the same time, I'm starting to see that there might not be too much of a bad thing in wanting.
Jenny just said something interesting during her class on Tuesday:
If you ask for what you want, you might just get it. And if you ask and you don't, then you don't. Which is still better than not asking and therefore, not getting.
That the people who have gotten where they are is because they've gotten what they wanted. And they got what they wanted by asking for it.
The rest of the world, they're still in the middle of trying.

And Umi's passed me this belief, of how the rest of the world is, without even knowing it, working to give you what you want.

I'm not talking about a Bucket list, things to do before you die.
I'm talking about what we want for ourselves. Because we hardly find ourselves sitting down and answering our own questions.

I want to be involved in drama for the rest of my life-
both theatre as well as teaching.
I want to have children, I want very much to be a mother, and a good one.
I want to be within reasonable proximity to my family.
After this Christmas, I want to attempt to, for the most part, spend Christmas at home. Wherever Home may be.
I want to be with you.

Sunday, December 5th 2010

Sunday, December 5, 2010

because of the truth in her words

"You're fighting between heart and logic," she says to me. And I breathe in her words,
her and all of what it means.

and then,
I break and I'm a mess inside.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

ShayShay CooLay

But I will call it "Geez Louise" after the guy I learnt this from.
Now that is some awesome shit right there!

I am so. frikkin'. knackered! I'm excited and absorbing like a sponge and have been absorbing like a sponge.
But bloody hell, I am knackered.
Productive, and pleased with that productivity.
But knackered.

I was up at like six in the morning. Said my Hellos on the phone and then progressed to chatting online (the first in a week. I don't know why we didn't think of it before. hahaha)
So chatted, in the early morning cold with my hoodie over pink jammies.
The top half of my jammies is a spag top. Gee, betcha couldn't tell I came from a hot country!
After the chat died (I think she fell asleep or closed the window or something), I made breakfast for Joejoe, having overheard that Aunt Phin was leaving him to do breakfast.
Then I figured, what the hell right?
And made breakfast for Jacq too.
Warmed me up a pie and made coffee from concentrate, courtesy of Lee's. Like how much lazier can anyone get hey?
Like I said to Joe, I'm way too lazy to make food for myself. Or to eat for that matter.
Don't you ever feel like that? Like, ugh, if I'm going to eat I'll have to sit down at a table or sit down some place and eat and ugh.

Which probably explains why that was the most solid meal of my day (at 7:25am) right up til an hour and a half ago? (That'd be 9:45pm)
I did have a banana at like 10:15, right after Daily Actor's Workout though.
That totally counts.

So yeah, I just got back like, ten-fifteen minutes ago.
That's a long time to be out, is all I can say.

Dinner was Armenian with my aunt at her friend's food joint. He's real nice and the food is fuhreaking awesome. Kid you not!
One of my aunt's friends asked about my acting class and how it went. And I told her a wee bit about some things. Not the acting classes themselves but the overall idea, from my point of view.
Yeah, my aunt was just smiling and nodding and I knew I'd lost her ages ago (well it IS pretty late, and my shit's really not that interesting. It's always like that with us all, no?)
So I went like super apologetic about boring them half to death and she (aunt's friend) goes,
"No no, I was listening it was interesting. I really like your accent, I could listen to you talk like, all day."

And I just thought that was really funny.
Especially after Meesh just told me my accent was hot and that how,
now that he's officially no longer a student of The Acting Corps, that he's allowed to flirt.
Which I found hilarious.

The Works-In-Progress tonight was good. In terms of perspective, checking out where these actors stand, and the feel of the products of the school.
I was supposed to catch Black Swan with my classmates this afternoon because like, hell,
we had a (cuss-word removed. Geez, stop bloody swearing C) whole load of time. Supposedly anyway, before the Works-In-Progress, which started at 7pm tonight.
the eager-beavers that we all were, we went off right after class to go rehearse with our scene partners!
So Tony and I chucked ourselves into the Main Theatre. Our shit's tight.
Simple, but tight.
I want to play with it a whole lot more, but I need to give up my director/teacher chair.
No, really.
It's actually a rule in Corey's class (Corey Sorenson does Scene study with us and the point is not directing each other).
Which makes a WHOLE lot of sense, but I need to sit back more.

I always tell my kids to trust right?
Trust and trust and trust.
Trust that your partner can and will pick up your shit for you. Trust yourself to trust yourself, and trust yourself to trust your partner.
And so, I do that. I do.
But it's a wavelength thing sometimes too, I think. Having come from different backgrounds and such. Don't get me wrong, it's super fun working with Tony.
But we're both super easy going and laid back and so, I need to actively refrain from making suggestions and outright ideas as opposed to saying, "Let's explore..."

Okay. I am so fucking tired that my head is spinning and my feet hurt and I cannot, even see.

On a random note,
I'm really really happy.
And I keep getting told that by people too.
I did a load of writing, and have been getting some me time. Not a WHOLE lot, but decent.
I walk down the streets with french songs/ Sara Barilles in my ears and find myself smiling a whole lot.

Uhm, I suppose I could do without the odd cyclist and his "How's it going?" and then continually looking back at me as he cycles away, and even at the stoplight.
Like I mean, some people lean out their car/truck windows to whistle or yell out, and that's fine because like, I feel like they're on the road and I'm on the pavement and it just doesn't feel too uncomfortable. No, I don't always look back at them, but I guess I feel safe cos it's not like they can swerve in the middle of the road to come to my side and be all up in my face.
But bicycles are a different story.
It was just a once off, but I was a tad uneasy.
I also think it's weird and kinda funny when people make a passing remark when I'm supposed to be out of earshot, except I'm not. Then I'll just laugh inside and keep walking.

On another random note,
I bought mommy's Christmas present today. And I gave it to her today too^^

Okay. this screen is turning into a mass of fuzzy grey.
I shall take my leave now.
Up for a long walk tomorrow morning, and San Diego on Sunday.
Then it's back to work.

Shayshay Coolay indeed!

On yet another unrelated note,
I do hope someone's exams aren't going to badly!
Channelling good vibes!
goodvibesgoodvibesENERGYgoodvibesgoodvibesBEEGHUGgoodvibesgoodvibesCONFIDENCE goodvibesgoodvibesRANDOM MARSUPIAL!(:

December 3rd 2010, Friday

Friday, December 3, 2010

oh, that amazing, infectious smile

words over words over words over words.

Thoughts that don't makes sense sometimes. Chestfuls of knots, and fingers twisting and untwisting.

To find you, and I do.
And then.
And then,
There is absolutely nothing else in the world that matters anymore.

Absolutely nothing, that could possibly matter
aside from you.

Thursday, December 2nd 2010

Thursday, December 2, 2010

C'etait Salement Romantique

[[Insert warm fuzzy picture of a memory here]]

It was a Friday. We'd hung out for eight days straight without realizing it. We had pizza for what was her lunch and my breakfast. I wore my glasses that day.
After, we sprawled out on the grass and chatted.
"So, there's something about you," she'd said to me that afternoon.

I quite enjoyed her company, I realized. I liked the way we were able to talk. I liked how we found ourselves saying things we usually wouldn't. I'm not even talking about stuff we've put in boxes or any of that. Just, little things.
"What's this place sound like?"
"What's it like, having both parents together?"
"Can I share your scooter then?"
"We can pick the family car with the kids."
"Where would you like to live?"
Pause. Freeze. Breath. Thought. Breathe. Breath. Thought. Breathe, Breathe.
"Anywhere you'd like to be."
And, afraid as I was of my own words and what they meant,
I also knew
that they were real.

--An extract from Inside My Head.

Christmas coffee to my left, I sat down with myself,
and wrote.
I wrote about you and early bits and pieces that I still think about and smile at.
I wrote about you.

And then, I make (or I find that I have made) a bit more sense of things because I decided that such uncertainty made up a part of all that this is and will be. Of all that I am, and will be.
I am settled, as opposed to battling the demons that have their claws jammed right into my insecurities.
I can breathe. And you know, I'd seated myself on the borders of my decisions, and settled comfortably. Comfortably. I will toy with the idea of these decisions, I think to myself. And I also think to myself,
that I will charge my dead cell phone when I am home and text because
I realized I've missed you.
And it's the first day of a whole stream of chaos that you're not in but that still involves you, and I hope you're not going out of your mind. And I hope you're not having to do weight-lifting or things that will exacerbate your left wrist. And I hope you're okay, and that you're doing okay.
And, that I love you.

But then I got home. And while my cell phone was charging,
I found myself reading.
And no, admittedly I'm not in the best place right now to think about prettying up my words.

I'm sorry that I feel the way I do. That I can't put a lid on it. That I would like to talk, but can never find the words to when it's live. I try, I do. But my words, they never come out right when it comes to this. My vowels and syllables melt and meld together and suddenly it's too solid and too heavy to roll off my tongue. I'd write you, but then, I figure I'd either never send it or I'd censor half of it.
I'm sorry that I feel the way I do. That I don't mean to. That I wish I wasn't such a baby about so many things.
That I don't quite know what to do with myself anymore.
I've always said that people cannot possibly say things with complete disregard for the directions that it may or may not go, and for the answers or words to continue from that first statement. But well, this is me.

I wrote once, a long long time back,
that I will leave, I would have to leave eventually. I'd hop onto a plane and there'll be someone who's been waiting up for you with tea that's gone cold.
Back then, I figured that was how it was supposed to play out. Except, things happened quite a bit differently. And don't get me wrong, I haven't minded it one bit.

So here's the thing-
I won't make promises I cannot keep. My best plans are to just not. And I am impossibly in love with you. I haven't even decided if that's a good or bad thing for you yet.
she's still waiting up for you with that tea. It's long gone cold now, the tea, and babe, she's still there waiting. And she will be, for quite a while I believe.
And she says that she'd like to come home to you.
Except really, all she'd like,
is for you to come home to her.

and no, I don't have any idea what any of this means. Or what to feel. Or what to do. Or what to do with how I feel. It's not that I'm not dealing, it's that I don't know how. I don't even know what to do with myself, to be honest. Because I write, or I've written, and then I address myself and my issues, and then I come back and I find myself in square one.
Here's the thing though,
I would really, really just like for things to fall into place for you.

Thursday, December 2nd 2010


"You're open," she says, her wide blue-grey eyes holding mine,
"I'm open."
"You're open, to me." She says, the beginnings of a smile breathing itself into her.
"I'm open to you." I repeat, her hands in mine, our eyes locked, the rest of the room fuzzing itself out.
"You're open, to me."
"I'm open to you." I answer.
"You're open, to me."
"I'm open," I pause, weighing the truth on my tongue," to you."
"You're open to me."
"I'm open to you."
"You're open, to me." she repeats.
"You like that I'm open to you." I decide, smiling.
Wait. We wait, wait together for the fullness of that truth to fill all that's left of the space between us.
"I like that you're open to me." She decides; an answer, a reply.
"You like that I'm open to you."
"I like that you're open to me."

It builds you, breaks you.
Trains us such that our default, will be forming connections.

"And when you return to the real world, you will be intolerant of dishonesty." Jenny warned us.
Because being actors starts off with being very honest. To yourself, and to moments and to whatever it is that is around you.
Unfortunately, back in the real world, most people dance around half truths all the time.

Unfortunately, back in the real world,
people hardly ever make connections with each other or with their partners that are half as real as the connections we made yesterday.

December 1st 2010, Wednesday.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

angels and devils

the angels they burn inside for us
are we ever
are we ever gonna learn to fly
the devils they burn inside of us
are we ever gonna come back down - come around
I'm always gonna worry about the things that could break us

So then sometimes I think that since I've written it out, talked about it,
that I'm okay. That I've got my thoughts sorted, that I can deal.

Except other times, I get caught off guard and then I look at some things and all I think is-
I can't do this.
I can't do this, not right now. Not like this. Not for this month and a half.
When I come back to town, I'd just be worn.
And then,
I'll leave again.

But, sometimes,
I think that since I've written it out, talked about it,
that I'm okay.
That I've got my thoughts sorted, that I can deal.

November 30th, 2010. Tuesday

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Being truthful to this moment

"There is a difference between fact and truth," he said, and I found us leaning forward in our seats, nodding in response,
"Whether or not something is real, doesn't matter as much as your conviction that it is true."

We spend every moment of our waking lives, choosing to ignore and avoid all the infinite amount of moments that take us from start point to end point. At a stop light, we wait for the green man (that is actually white) to come on, and then we scurry across. We are preoccupied with getting to the other side. We are preoccupied with what comes after the crossing.
We are preoccupied with our end point.
But from this side of the road to the other, there are an infinite amount of moments that we actively choose to ignore and disregard.
The car that slows the moment he sees the amber light from 50 feet away. The car that speeds up when he sees the amber light, and then screeches to a halt inches from the white line. The car that speeds up and makes it past the light before it turns red.
These are all moments.
And then,
the driver drumming his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as you cross the road.
The driver who stops to sip his coffee. The driver who finishes up her eyeliner.
The lady behind you who ambles along with her shopping cart, even when the amber hand comes up with its numbers flashing. The man beside you who walked with ease and then quickened his pace in response to the amber hand.
These are all moments.

And we choose to ignore them simply because we haven't the time, we're distracted, we're everything else but interested.

In this exact same way, we ignore the person in front of us.

Language is a barrier, and you can do a lot more without saying anything. As long as the person in front of you is breathing, they are giving you something. They are offering you something for you to take, and you are doing likewise. Whether it is a warning to stay away, or an invitation to get to know you better, they are offering you something.
And we ignore this; this non-verbal communication, this exchange that goes beyond words. We shut out silences and fill it instead with words because it is easier than sitting and feeling each other.
We do this because we don't want to be socially responsible for that random chap on the train, or the girl in the Honda Civic that pulled up beside you.

There are things that are mine, and mine alone to know. There are other things that I do and I like sharing with those closest to me.
And there is quite a bit of me that I leave for the world. I suppose I don't mind myself being as open and as frank as possible. And as much as I can, I try quite earnestly to keep at that.

I think right about now,
I'm grappling with the notion or the (albeit vague) feeling that it's not so much me that she needs as much as it is someone.
And that right now, I'm not that person. Or it has so been chosen that I will not be that person because I am a little bit far away, which of course makes sense.
This isn't laced with any sort of insecurity or jealousy. Right now, in my head, it's just going,
"Well this is how it feels, and this is the situation as I perceive it."
Can I do anything about it? Nope. Is this the truth of the matter? The truth is in my perception, whether or not this is, in fact, the case, is an entirely different matter altogether.
Am I sad? Well here's the thing, I cannot possibly be sad (and I truly mean this), if someone that I care about immensely and am terribly in love with is happy and content and comfortable.

From this point to the time I land, there have been, there are and there will be, an infinite amount of moments. Not physically being in the same space doesn't necessarily mean missing out on those moments, because that is a moment in itself.
And from the time I land, to the point where our time together is up, there will also be series after series after series of infinite amounts of moments.
I can be there. I can. I would like to. Most of me wants to. Just like I can be there now.
But how far one gets with this intent, is very largely dependent on the other person too.
I don't suppose it makes very much sense to be around when you're not really needed or wanted.
And there's also always that whole, "in this frame of time" thing going on.
A bit like chess.
Who happens to be where, while also here while also this that and the other.
I don't like thinking about all of it like this, to be honest. But I'm trying to very brutally break down everything, in the hopes of finding a smattering of words that makes some sort of sense, at least to me.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is,
there is a huge, gaping, non-physical distance that I find myself staring at.
And I'm not quite sure what to do.

Never the sort who could quite be bothered with the fixing, I seem to have found myself wanting to do that with you. It still takes me aback but, ta dah.
At the same time I'm also faced with the unanswered question of why it feels like this, if I am simply perpetuating the situation and if it's something that will end up being a recurring issue. Because, well, because it isn't the loveliest thing to be dealing with I guess.
There is also a part of me that wonders (and this might prompt shout of, "YES, you douche! you're perpetuating this and how you're feeling with your rubbish!"),
just wonders,
if maybe I fit just for that frame of time.

There's a lot of furthering of this piece of thought to do,
but this is the best I can come up with for the Now.
I'm trying, really I am.

The whole point was to see what happens and how we deal, right?
So, if this is our Oh Shit-moment or our What The Fuck's Happening-moment then I'd like to see what we'll do, having been thrown into such ambiguity.

In any case,
I would like, I would like very much, to be there for the infinite number of moments that take you from one point to the next and to the point after that. I have never felt as such before. This I am acutely aware of.
But it's less about me than it is about you. And if you'd rather me not, then there isn't much else I can do now is there?

I'd also quite like to be there for all the bits and pieces that will take us from one point to the other and to the one after that. Of this I am incredibly sure.
This thing we've got, it seems like the most frikkin' organic thing I've ever had. And raw as it is, as unsure as I am,
I'm not minding it one bit.

When I hold on to that, I feel just a tad better.

November 30th 2010, Tuesday 2:20am

The only things we're in love with, are ideas

"I love you. Believe me. Why won't you just accept that, take it as it is? I love you, I really do."
"Okay, and then?"
"But I just can't love you the way you love me."

They'll ask you to, cajole you, to make you believe. Want you to, so much, so much.
But all they leave you with, are broken bits of glass still stuck in the carpet,
long after the words have fallen and the vacuum cleaner's given in to silence.

Welcome to The Acting Corps

Two year difference babeez!

Today was fantastic. Meeting new people, finding out, discovering things. All of it.
I wouldn't have changed one bit. Okay, maybe I would've tried harder at being responsible (even though I really
did try quite hard and honest to God, I don't know why I didn't check back and/or double check), in an effort to save my grammy from screaming into mommy's only hearing ear and having the family in an uproar and seconds away from sending a search party downtown to hunt the streets for a Chink girl who was very happy finding her way back home.

I had me some coffee and write-time at Tom's. Okay, I lie. I ate. I had a burger at half three even though I wasn't hungry because I figured it was about time for lunch. I hate doing that- eating when I'm not hungry. I don't know why I even do it sometimes.
Had coffee that was much too sweet and thought about the class that had ended.

Had someone tell me I had nice eyes and a cute smile which made me go "Why Thank You." And then Louise (he was our instructor today because Jenny got into a car accident on her way to us) pointed out how I was very responsive to everything while a lot of others were blank walls. It's not that either one or the other was more right/wrong/whatever, it's that the best thing about acting, is all the real bits to it.
Someone else after that said I was genuine, and that made me smile.
We did something called Repetition today. Which was pretty cool.
Not just for the pair physically involved in that space and time and moment but for the rest of us in the audience.
And this is never something I'll ever even hope to get out of my kids. Everyone's just so absorbed in themselves and how it affects them and their involvement that they don't see that being in the audience involves one just as much as being on stage.

For instance, this one pair that went up, it kept us all riveted because their energy was so incredibly charged. And it was frikkin' bizarre, because half way through, that energy became super sexually charged in the most odd way. And it was just that tension or that energy between them. Created by, well them as people, but not consciously.
And I mean the chap's like mid-forties and she was twenties, for sure. And I'm not saying anything happened, I'm saying that there are all these moments.
These fucking moments that are crazily charged with all these things and
Pretty cool, I think.

It was fantastic.
All of it was.
And there was so much that I got out of it.
Not as an actor, no.
But as a person.
There was just so much truth to all of it, that every second word made me want to cry and dissect it and repiece it and put it away.

And I will.
Soon as I find out how to write faster.

November 29th 2010, Monday

Smiled and said "Yes I think we've met before"

in that instant it started to pour

Here's the thing about ex-lovers who are best friends or best friends who are ex-lovers,
there isn't ever a reason to not find a park bench to go sit down at.
And there is an odd familiarity that comes with talking about the inane, the mundane, and why the word "squirrel" is so annoyingly amusing when said in an American accent.

Monday, November 29, 2010

Falling slowly, eyes that know me

and I can't look back

I'm scared.
Because I don't know what any of this means.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

It's never felt like this before.

I would like...

for a lot of things.
Also, to be able to talk about this. Except I can't, not really.

So I'll hang on here for just a tad longer.

all the things you try too hard to hold on to

Talking with V and Vic made me realize that the tricksy thing about feelings, is that sometimes they like to pretend to be feelings they're really not.

This insecurity, it's different. I cannot even begin to attempt to explain myself,
cannot even begin to find myself answers when I haven't even found the words to put my questions together yet.

I'll go write some place else instead.
because sometimes, people want you to believe and trust and trust and believe.
And you do. And you give them the key that unlocks all of you, even the bits that you don't ever let the world see. And you like that; You wanted to, after all.
But after a while, you stop being very much to look at, barely reason enough to think about. And they'll still have that key hanging off the quietest chain on their neck.

Creme Brule. Jello

And so, when I stop being enough for you
let me know, okay?

November 27th 2010, Saturday

Because she won't look back

They belong to Anistasiya Lazurenko.

Empty eyes, voice, words.
Soles burning into life,
Life burning into souls.

It's only been a few days, I know. And it's funny but, you know,
the best thing for me right now,
is a walk outside.

I'll start classes in just a few days,
things'll get better then.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Come home
Come home
Cause I’ve been waiting for you
For so long
For so long
And right now there's a war between the vanities
But all i see is you and me
The fight for you is all I’ve ever known
Ever known
So come home

so it's perfectly on course

if in the end it starts to snow

(Black) Friday, November 26th

Friday, November 26, 2010

The Penguin on her finger says Hello

It ain't no celebration without booze, they say.
So while their laughter echoes about the house, my generation sits about in different rooms, distracted with screens all of different sizes.
I don't mind it too much actually.
My new nickname is Sniffles and I am a tad jetlaggy. The plane food was not worth waking up for. rawr.
Naw, it wasn't bad. It's just, I wouldn't have minded going without it.

Thanksgiving was a shockingly quiet affair with the Tang's. We attempted to go to Fossilman's afterwards, quite forgetting that most people might actually be home for Thanksgiving.
So we came home instead.

Slept away the afternoon, although I could honestly do with more sleep. Feel like curling up like a fat fluffy cat under the covers(:

I will go for a walk a night walk with The Little Creature now.
Don't mind shopping in the least, but the thought of Black Friday honestly scares me a little bit.
I sort of don't want to die.
Plus, post New Year's always has bigger discounts!
Okay, going for walkies, says Sniffles!

November 25th 2010, 10pm

Thursday, November 25, 2010

l'amour c'est mieux a deux

racing, screaming to burst out and be a mess on the carpet floors in front of me.
Oh these carpet floors,
where people stand for minutes, fifteen at a time. Some cheating, some giving, but all, all of them leaving.

"why do you do this to yourself?" she asks, pleadingly.
But the girl in question shakes her head dumbly.
For a talker, she always loses her words like this.
For an actor, she always misses her cues.
For a piece broken and re-pieced, she always finds the edge of the table.
For a lover, she always loses.

We sing the same songs, use the same lines, say the same words.
We bring new people to places made special by the old, and we love the only way we've known how.
No it's not a fault, and no it's not wrong.
But I suppose reality comes too much like a bucket of iced water and, as small of an issue it is, it sorta hits you.

All the loveliest things this person is to you, this person has been to someone else,
and will be, to someone else after too.
Of course, we all know this.
Yet for some reason, one can never brace themselves for that single freezing moment when the penny drops.
To find that your favourite pet name used to be someone else's, to think that some of the most picturesque ideas that you've talked about while sitting about in parks might just have been created with one before yourself.

Words, at least for me, aren't difficult to believe because of lies I know we're all capable of telling. Nope, that's not it. They're difficult to believe because I always wonder just how much they might possibly mean if one has used it before with other people.

I've had my feelings scoffed at, laughed at. Been second-guessed, questioned, interrogated. I've had to justify myself, prove the meaning of my words and I have found myself so caught up with the desperate need to have my words be believed that it felt like my insides were creeping up to choke me. I would never, never want for that to happen to anybody else. Even whilst wishing people would think through the cause-and-effect of their words.
I honestly don't think it is for anyone else to say whether or not your words are real. I don't think it is for anyone to decide that you cannot mean what you say simply because you've used those exact same words with the person you were with before, and before that.

When it comes to me-
I pick my words and when I feel ready, and if I feel like I can,
I lay them down like cards on a table. Most times, I feel like I'm putting myself out there, and it isn't the most secure feeling in the world. But whether or not you believe what I say is completely out of my hands.
And when people find words to give me, I'll admit that sometimes I discount them (and if I haven't known you very long, can you blame me?)but I do also try to hold on to all the things that might just be real.

I started this off, upset at the sudden realization that there are and will be pet names/phrases/ideas and dreams that have been said or talked about with one before myself. And bloody hell, that wasn't the nicest feeling in the world as I was leaving, to be quite honest.
But, almost twelve hours on and quite literally, half way across the world (I'm finishing this post off while on the plane), I've figured that it's very simply (and honestly) part and parcel of being with someone who's been with someone else before. Just like having to deal with issues/habits/reactions that have developed either because of having been with other people or because of things that've happened in this person's life. It works both ways, and that's just the way it is.

So, here's something I'd like very much for you to know-
That I believe you.
When you tell me about things that are a first, when you tell me about feelings you haven't felt before, when you tell me about things you've found different.
I believe you.
When you tell me I'm beautiful, that you don't mind picking out faucets and sinks,
that you could get used to this.

I believe you, and somehow, it makes sense to.
And I love you, and am in love with you,
and for once, it doesn't seem like a bad thing.
When I think about all of that, and how I feel, and all these things you manage to make me feel,
those minute, nonsensical things that set me off at the beginning of this post, like on Monday evening,
they don't matter in the least.
They don't anymore, because.

there'll be new things to do, new places to go. There'll be things we'll find special, and mental pictures we'll get to take and hold on to. We'll find dreams to paint, situations to think up, couches to pick out.
And there will always be a whole collection of things created with other people, but there'll also be you and me. And I couldn't possibly ask for more.

Why in the world should any of us rework the scenes that have already been when we can laze about- backs on grass, faces to the sun- devising and creating and dreaming up a whole stream of new scenes that will make up everything else of us?

Most of all, there shouldn't be, there isn't, anything that can make what we have seem any less than what it really is. And I am sorry, for Monday evening; that for even a fraction of a moment I allowed my insecurities make less of what was actually the loveliest start to a week with you.

And so,
believe me when I say that no one's made me feel the way you do. That you're quite something special.
That I love you, with everything that I am.

And believe me, when I say, I believe you.
Vv and Vic are at my place right now.
And despite the ringing in my brain, and my hurting throat, and my desperate, desperate need to sleep,
I think it'd be a good idea to start packing.

My plane, it's sorta leaving in a few hours.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

when there is nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire

I will write.
I will write and write and write until there is nothing left
because I haven't had to fight this feeling in so, so long, and honestly,
I'm a little scared.

I tried.
Even though it never makes sense to talk about it with the persons remotely involved in the trigger of this sort of nonsense. It doesn't make sense because I used to do that, let people in. And honest to God, it doesn't get you anywhere.
I attempted to put my words together and be honest.
And I want to be honest like that because talk is cheap, and people say things they don't mean all the time, mind-fucking you every chance they get.

So I did. And I thought I got it all out, and I thought it made sense. And I was almost okay.
Except, I don't think I got myself across quite right. And then I wanted to, I wanted to right what I was saying, and I tried, was trying, but my words kept catching,
kept tripping and I didn't know how. And no, I'm not frustrated at myself because of it, it's just the way it is. So I figured I'd drop it except, except I hate that a half idea's been left out in the open instead of all of it.
I think I'd rather have had you not understand me at all, or not heard from me, rather than get a vague picture.
Okay so. Secret's out then. I wanted to explain myself.

Except it was time to go.

When it happens like this, I never know quite what to feel.
And so I bite my lip really really hard, until it starts tasting different, and then I just hope that it'll kill the bubblings of nonsense that build in my chest.

Maybe it was a lot of sappy bullshit that I found myself tearing up over while trying to be logical. Maybe I was tired. Maybe despite being tired, I made myself verbalize what I felt except it didn't feel like I had all my words and so it was a shoddy attempt.
Maybe it's all of it.
And that's one too many reminders or thoughts or realizations of feelings.

Here's the thing too-
That now that the conversation is brought to an end, I won't want to bring it up to sort out properly. Except, I am very much for sorting through things so that you can put it away and label. And although I can sort it out with myself, and actually have, for the most part, and found myself like 75% less hung up about what I will henceforth refer to as Issue 01,
you, on the other hand, are left with a half idea that I've been rubbish enough to put across to you. Which doesn't give you insight or understanding or, well, anything. And that's not your fault, it's mine. Especially so because I decided to give up (and said so out loud).
Perhaps I will write it in a letter to add to the stacks of unsent, in a feeble attempt to make myself feel better.

Post 9:28pm and the wave of nonsense it brought triggered an insanely intense string of questions that went off in my head. It's like tripping the burglar alarm in your own home, and you need to scramble, knocking into chairs and table corners, to get to the bloody device and key in codes before the police come round.
So Issue 01, oh it was barely the beginning.
In fact, Issue 01 isn't even an issue anymore;
I've dealt with how I felt, understood what stems it, acknowledged both the logical and illogical thought progressions and come to the conclusion that it was very much less to do with the person in question as it was how the scene played itself out. Especially in my head.

But this in turn sparked off furious questions fired off at me from four walls of mirrors.

And they've got a point.
They always do.

That hurting distance is really, no distance at all.
That sometimes we believe things we want to believe.
That talk is cheap.
That people can say the most beautiful things when they're in bed with you.
That we lie to ourselves best.

That it only hurts like this, because one feels so much for that person.
That the only reason anything hurts or is painful or even just stings a bit, is because one allowed such feelings to be.

It's not that I feel this way about you or anyone in particular.
These are just one-liners from my multiple protagonists.
And these, I will sort through on my own.

And I am tired, I am.
Of myself, of being tired of myself like this.

But I suppose the biggest reason I needed to write, needed so desperately and urgently to write,
was because I haven't reached (if only mentally) for something so immediate and sure in the longest time.
Haven't had to fight that crippling dependency that's made up most of who I am, but which I've never seemed to have minded, for the most part.
Haven't had to think through a teary mess like this. Haven't even been a teary mess in the longest while.

And maybe I decided against it for the wrong reasons, but at least it held me off long enough to open this page.
Spent, I shall now take this mess to bed with me and curl up under the covers.

There's a whole lot more than this batshit to sort out before Thursday morning.