Wednesday, June 27, 2012


Beautiful cosplay picture by

I wish I was less vulnerable sometimes.
And I wish I did not understand energies. This was quite a blast.
And I wish I did not create people in my head and interact with my idea of them instead of interacting with the actual people.
It's easy to think someone is special and safe but they are only people after all.
And people always hurt me.
Maybe because I handle them in the wrong way. I expect too much.
Run back home little Elizabeth.
It's a safe place to cry there.
This too shall pass.
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Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Serious thoughts covered by chocolate.

It's one of those days I am going round and round with no actual idea what I am looking for. But I know it's not here.
I am looking at the relationships I form around me and can't help but wonder. In all my relationships I have played a positive, therapeutic or soothing role. Sometimes I wonder if I am some kind of pain junkie. I sniff out people's pain and find myself there in milliseconds. Most of the time I know what to say, how to touch or how to push people's buttons to make them respond, feel better, forget. I wonder if I should change this.
Bah. Who cares. If I need to change it, it will just happen.
My energy is also another weird multifunctional thing. It slips right under people's guard (or nose) and as soon as it finds the smallest crack, it dives in and starts working furiously. I am a sly beastie too; my stories are outstanding blasts of my energy. If the recipient is open, they are so screwed. :-D Very soon the genuine article of change is inside them and working overtime, and I have seen what my energy can do to others if they are willing. It's something beyond description. And it's not something I control or have expectations from. It just is.
Let's eat much much more chocolate and see if we manage to acquire a zen state through it. :-D

Saturday, June 23, 2012


"I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time... like tears in rain... Time to die. "

Quote borrowed from the movie Bladerunner, musical inspiration by Virve.
You had to go and do it again, didn't you?

These  two bits pretty much express my feelings yesterday...

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

The big stage production called life

Dear Elizabeth,
you are the genuine article of strangeness. Sometimes, I cannot understand you at all.

Your feelings live a separate existence from you, pretty much like your personality does. You observe what is happening but very often you don't really identify it as your own. I doubt there is a single thing you identify as your life or you. Most of the time, you are trying to scrape an existence by mimicking behaviours considered acceptable. Like a person who has never learned acting does when they suddenly find themselves on stage. You keep glancing at what the other actors say and do and try to understand what is expected from you. You are too intelligent for your own sake and have managed to blend in so well that no-one has a clue that you are not an actor, or part of the show. They even find your moments of awkwardness or puzzlement endearing. You are doing such a good job you have almost believed it yourself. And day after day you go to the same place and do what is expected from you, but deep in your heart you hide the same panic of that first time you found yourself on stage. That sooner or later, someone will look at you and understand you're a stranger, an imposter that has no right to be there. You're not an actor. You're not part of all that. How come you're playing this role, you'll never understand. You're no part of it and you'll never be.

You form friendships and manage to make yourself irreplaceable. You know what to say and when. You manage to worm your way into their deepest secrets and the inner chambers of their hearts, and when you find yourself there, you don't know what you're supposed to do. You say to yourself that you care, and perhaps you do care after a fashion. But at the same time you know it's going to last as much as it is going to last and then game over. Nothing is forever, nothing is really important. Life is about change and endings and new beginnings, all of them as important and as trivial as the ones before them. You know it's all dust in the end. And you're not even certain you care about it.

You fall in love and the chemicals of your brain have a party with your glands and the rest of you. You desire, you crave, you want the other person's attention, you want to be one with them. You say to yourself that you want them, but lately I have the strong suspicion that you merely want to use them as anchors to this nonsensical reality. You know they're not really important, just what you need right now to advance in your learning, and afterwards... afterwards you'll get over them. The fast way or the slow painful way, you'll get over them. They are anchors, they're things to be used or to use you for as long as necessary. Necessary for what? Probably to feel that you're no different than the rest of the people you see around you. You have a life, friends, a love interest. Therefore, you belong somewhere. You are safe, and other such bullshit you don't really believe for one moment. You just need it for your disguise as a human.

You look at yourself in the mirror and you see your face and body change and really wonder who that person is. Yes, you feel familiar with your body in the same way someone would have felt familiar with a T-shirt they wear every day, but at the same time you often stare at it in bewilderment, in wonder, and with genuine restlessness. You wonder when you'll be allowed to finally shed it because it's faulty and uncomfortable and it cannot do half of the things you were used to. You don't hate it, just wear it in the same way an actor has to wear a really uncomfortable article of clothing for as long as the show lasts. And you wonder when the day will come that someone will come and smile and caress your hair and say to you, "it's over now. You don't have to do this anymore. We can go home." And you'll cry in their arms, and those will be the first genuine tears in your entire life.

You know Elizabeth, you truly make very little sense. But still love you so much that I'd kill anyone who dared look at you the wrong way...
Be brave, my little actress, and smile.
Smile as much as you can.

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Saturday, June 16, 2012

Come on, hop in the washing machine.

A lot of contradictory feelings have bubbled up.
One of the reasons is something I was reminded of.
I was devastated. Haha. :-) Past lives. Fun, fun, fun.
But it was very important. It was necessary.
Another reason is a failed love interest.
I’ll live. I always do.
And I’ll kill the “what ifs” with my sharpest sword of reason.
What I cannot kill is dreams, but they’ll die a quiet death of their own.
A third reason is someone I love dearly.
Not sure what to do about that either.
But I love him so much that my heart hurts, for all the things he is and does.
All that is more than enough to make everything inside enter a noisy emotional washing machine.
Eclipses, how I love you...

Monday, June 11, 2012

There is something I want to say...

... but I am groping about inside my skull and have had no success in capturing it as of yet. Eventually, if I keep writing, my fingers will get a hold of it. I hope. Or I'll bore myself to tears and scrap this entry. And perhaps use it to wipe my ass, or turn it into a tablecloth to celebrate a meal for one. Heh. And so I try and try, I push my hand inside the currents of my mind and try to capture one of the many writhing beasts in there. I am not sure if they are fish, dragons, nameless monsters or corpses of drowned teenagers. Perfect in their moment of death, preserved in the most glorious period of their lives. But dead nonetheless.

I have a new kitten in the house. She is totally black, sleek and tiny. She loves to be kissed on the tummy. Strange for a cat. Smells like a cat should, her tummy hairs soft and clean and deliciously cat-like in their scent and feel under my nose. (All cats smell differently, did you know that? My orange one smells like cotton candy, she smells like chocolaty cat fluff, my Persian has a stronger smell, a little tangy.) I see her playing about and she is adorable. Many years from now, she'll probably be a fat sick smelly animal on the way out, as I have seen so many of my pets becoming after countless years of being a pet owner. And it mysteriously never ceases to hurt me. It never stops me from wondering how the hell did I miss the in-between years and how come I don't want to touch that sick smelly thing that used to be my cat but don't recognise anymore. I never manage to avoid feeling guilty about it either.

Impermanence. The source of all our sorrows. Is it really? Why should anything last forever? Why should we? We are faulty in our making, so why make this last?

Am I the only one who's so conscious of the passing of time?
Am I paranoid? Obsessive?
I don't want to leave but don't want to stay to watch myself become a fat smelly thing on the way out. If I shy away from touching my own cat, who will want to touch me?
So where does this leave me?
"Make good art" Mr. Gaiman says. "No matter what's happening, make good art."

Can I do that?

Sometimes when I walk in a gallery and see a heart-stopping painting I know the person that painted it managed to capture one of the things that writhed inside their heads. And suddenly I know what that thing was. No dragon, no fish, no corpse, but a devious, sly monster very few brave people have managed to capture.

It was a moment in time...

[Both gorgeous paintings by John William Waterhouse.]

Friday, June 08, 2012

Life theories: Synchronization.

I have a life theory I want to share with you.
The theory is the following.
Many times, life is a matter of synchronization. In most cases, synchronization that doesn’t happen. Take my friend for example. She spoke to her boyfriend about seeing their relationship a bit more seriously than just the odd fuck in the weekends. She did not mean marriage, just a more decent behaviour, for example going to the movies together or for a drink, and so on. He did like her a lot and cared about her. Just not enough to make the extra effort to have a relationship instead of someone to use as a fuck toy. She gave him a lot of chances, again, and again. In vain. Today, three years after they split up because of his behaviour, he still sometimes sends her messages to ask her if she is ok. In reality to ask her if she is available and they can get together again. This seems absurd to me. I mean, he had her and made no effort to keep her. What does he want from her now?  The answer is simple. They couldn’t for the life of them find common ground at the time. He didn’t want to try or he was not ready, or he couldn't deal with it. Perhaps he never will. Bottom line being, my friend shrugged and moved on. Well, it certainly wasn’t that simple.This is the short version. She cried, she yelled, she thought about going back. But reality is very crude in its simplicity. No-one can wait for someone else. Life does not wait for you. You can spend your time waiting for someone else, someone else who may NEVER be ready to follow, or move on. My friend decided to move on, he stayed back. Sad? Certainly. Two people who genuinely cared about each other are now total strangers, not even speaking  anymore. It boils down to choices.

Even as write this I can see my choice and don't like it, but it's the only one I am left with. 
It boils down to choices and priorities. And self-respect.
So- goodbye.
It was nice knowing you.
I hope you live and learn.
I hope I live and learn.
Thank you for teaching me.
It's time to move on.

Monday, June 04, 2012

Life advice

Mr. Gaiman is a very sweet, wise and funny human being. Please watch this video. He does have a few things to say.