Lacrimosa

 

There is no changing what we are.

There is no changing what we feel. Or is there? 

I am struggling inside my mind, layers upon layers of fetters and conditioning.

My mind resides inside a physical form that places more fetters around my existence.

My body exists inside a society, a pre-existent construction that has its own rules and ideas, bringing more fetters in the equation.

My society is a country presently entrapped in a state of economical war with other countries, and I have no future to look forward to, no way to realise my dreams.

As if all the fetters inside weren’t enough, I am also trapped outside and there is no place to run to. I am stranded on a hostile planet with no escape. 

There is nothing for me here. Only the brief repose of reading a book, watching a movie, writing, talking to a friend, when time ceases to exist and that pain abates for a little while.

You tell me to keep on struggling, that better days will come, that this is not all that is, and there is hope.

Maybe there is. But right now all I see is darkness. I have struggled with all those fetters for years, and more fetters come to replace those I have removed and broken with so much effort. I feel buried under them. I cannot breathe. I keep pushing on, blind, broken, angry, furious with rage. I am blind rage and nothing more. Rage is the only thing remaining to fuel me. Sadness does not count.

There is so much blood on my hands, such a burden on my soul. This time I did not kill anyone. This lifetime I played by the rules, and gained a room with a view in prison.

I want out. I want to live. I want even the pretense of living. I want something I cannot have. I want bliss, and the brief moments I have experienced it make me even sadder for knowing what I miss. I want out of here. Out of this fucking planet. Out of this existence. Everything hurts. Every single thing I see cuts me and burns me and hurts me. I am an exposed nerve, and no matter how well I hide, if I make the mistake of walking out and looking at anything else than the trees, something appears to hurt me. From the piece of litter I see on the ground to the contemptuous glance a passerby gives to another passerby, everything hurts and overwhelms me. I am exhausted. I want to rest. I don’t understand anything anymore. I don’t know what I am doing wrong. Maybe this world isn’t for me. Maybe I am not made for this world. Maybe it was all a mistake.

I just want to rest. I want to close my eyes and sleep and never wake up again. I am so tired. So sick of struggling. So sick of fighting to gain what others take for granted. Everything is a struggle and a battle and I am so disgusted of existing just to suffer and flail and achieve nothing.

I want to do nothing. But there is so much I need to do. From mundane tasks to personal projects, there is so much I need to do. And if I open the door and step out of this life, even if something good happens I won’t be there to see it.

That’s what I tell myself and persuade her not to do anything stupid.

I don’t know for how long this will keep me here.

I don’t know how much time I have left before I break completely and don’t care anymore.

For today, it is enough. Tomorrow is another struggle.

One day at a time. One breath at a time.

We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.

That’s my girl.

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Because f*ck you.

Source: http://indigojester.tumblr.com/post/124153458911/socialpsychopathblr-photographer-rina

Let me tell you one of my  personality traits. One thing I don't enjoy is routine. Repetitive tasks kill my enthusiasm like nothing else. Regular spellweaving very easily becomes a chore, unless I do something different every time. The problem with magick is the same you face with exercise. If you want to see results, you need to be methodical, hard-working and mostly REGULAR at what you do. Especially if there is a small army opposing your efforts, who wants to see you in the shit, and they work constantly. You see, those who hate you don't forget you. You may be living in green la-la land, merrily watching your favourite series and reading books and so on, but they aren't as happy-go-lucky or hare-brained as you are. (Talking about myself here). I remember the anecdote about the pilgrim who asked a holy man, "if I loved God with all my heart and being, how many lifetimes would I need to become enlightened?" and the holy man replied, "five." "And how many would I need if I hated and despised Him?" the pilgrim asked. "Three," the holy man replied. "I don't understand," the pilgrim said. "If you hated Him, you would be thinking of nothing else all day long," the holy man observed. And he was right. 

So spellweaving it is. Focused and regular, otherwise the waves of negativity sweep you off course and don't allow you to resurface and take a breath. They aren't sporadic. They keep coming when you least expect it. Energy is sentient and follows the path of least resistance. As soon as you lower your guard, it slips in from the smallest crack in your defenses. As a result, last night found me on the stairs to the rooftop, considering my options. I had to do something about the new moon. I was bored as hell and didn't want to. The drill sergeant in my head told me to quit my bellyaching and get on with it, and reminded me of what happens when I don't spellwork regularly.

I opened the door, cursing under my breath. Pleasant surprise number one awaited. The sky was covered by clouds, and clouds have the fantastic ability to illuminate the night. There was a pinkish(?) light everywhere, strong enough to see clearly in spite of the dark. Second pleasant surprise: the air was damp and cool on my face, although my room had been stifling. I could see the clouds descending from the mountain like cotton candy and sense the moisture in the air. Irregular raindrops landed on my face and the cicadas were deafening. It was beautiful.

I put the MP3 headphones in my ears and took a deep breath. This is what happens every time I decide to step out of my self-imposed imprisonment in my room and go to the rooftop. On the way there I am bored and nag about leaving my familiar routine. But once out there, I feel relieved and silly for my grumbling. It is a different world, with other rules, and you can leave all your problems behind for a while. 

It wasn't long before I found myself dancing to this   https://youtu.be/WJUZHiYX0XE and also this https://youtu.be/X7gSphrz-I0?list=PL7zVxNbF_jC3ZWDGaLbixJ5FXvGfYYaq9. Both taken from this amazing youtube channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC_dPXkUPztbPrRF_O4BqAvA. The beauty of it is the irrationality of it. I am  a woman nearing her 40s (it still seems impossible!) and last night at 04:00 am I was dancing on my rooftop to the sounds of an Irish jig, smiling as if I was on drugs. Why? Because fuck you. Because I could, and also because the best spells are spontaneous ones that overflow with feeling. And because I was having fun, so much fun it should be illegal. Who knows, maybe if they find out they will make that illegal, too. 

We need more happiness in this world. We have too many robots as it is. We need more lunatics dancing on rooftops at 4 in the night, in the embrace of clouds and solitude. We could benefit from less up-tightness. Of course, one can argue that I am trying to present my oddity as something normal, but you know what? Fuck you. I've lived my entire life as an outcast because I speak my mind. I've spent years suffering. And I am not going to let anyone lecture me about what is right. I know. Oh hell yes, I know. Nothing is real, everything is permitted. So long as your choices don't restrict anyone's future freedom of choice (yours included) then do what thou wilt.

I am off to eat some home-made marmalade. Be naughty and happy. 

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Vile threats and magick-made porn movies

My left shoulder is stiff and sore, and has been so for the past two days. Today was the worst. Every time I tried to move it or turn my head, I was getting muscular spasms that made me groan.  I got the stiff shoulder after a thorough house cleansing. Should I be scared of what kind of old energies I shifted? :) Counterpain ointment will heal all ills and drive the mosquitoes away as a bonus. The smell would drive me, too, out of the room, if I wasn't firmly attached to the shoulder I apply it on.

Last night I was sending out CVs again. It is a ‘delightful’ pastime.  I was reading the ad titles trying to decipher whether the job is something worth applying to/ I have the necessary knowledge to do it. Many ads have the word ‘administrator’ in the title. Recruitment administrator, Payroll Administrator, Sales Support Administrator, Order Processing Administrator, Senior Administrator, Compliance Administrator… From a point onwards I started reading out loud and replacing words. Cunt Administrator, Bollocks administrator, Dick Administrator, Butt Administrator, Boob Administrator, Pube Administrator. It was 2 in the a.m., and I realised I was reciting a litany of anatomical parts and swearwords and sticking the word ‘administrator’ after every single one of them. I started laughing with the absurdity of it, and the absurdity of looking for a job for seven months and not finding one, and the stupidity of human existence and the mess we have made out of everything. Society, money, politics, war, it’s all a gigantic bollocks of a mess, and I honestly wonder why I bother. Right now the European Union is tearing my country apart, turning it to shreds and bloody bits and ashes, and I can do absolutely nothing to stop it. I can’t even help myself.  I know, that’s not what the media tell you. The media also don’t say anything about the thousands of people who have committed suicide because of their debts, the hospitals who have no medicine, the families who have no electricity, the 60% unemployment in people under 30, the 30.000 jobs and companies who have gone out of business, the fact we are expected to pass a whole month with a 400 euro wage while the expenses are at least double. Don’t listen to the media. They lie. 

I wish I could work some serious black magick and execute a few of the present European leaders. I wouldn’t take credit. I’d do it for the heck of it, because someone needs to do it. For the despair and misery of millions worldwide while fat, bloated leeches of leaders shake their finger and accuse us we’re not trying hard enough. For the waves of desperate refugees drowning in the Mediterranean with the ‘help’ of coastal police, that sinks their boats. For the guy who is beaten to his death in an alley because he had the bad luck to be born with the wrong skin colour. For the teenage whore with the dead eyes whose pimp is forcing her to sleep with twenty people every night, and whose entire life was one foster home after another, a responsibility no-one wanted. For the small girl who is held down by others while someone severs her clitoris with a piece of broken glass. For the dog they take when it’s a cute puppy and then abandon like trash. For every single one of you, with a breath and a conscience, whose names I don’t know, whose tears water this earth non-stop, I’d kill them. Fuck karma. Fuck consequences. I don’t care. If they don’t care, neither should I. They are not human anyway. They are scum. They are bipedal leeches who rule and destroy the lives of millions. Someone needs to squash those disgusting creatures, step on them and then scrape off the remains and throw them away, or even better, burn them in a bonfire.

Lately a ‘friend’ of mine comes to mind, and some things she said to me. Instead for apologising for being the scheming, shit-hearted, petty, envious cunt that she is, she had the nerve to accuse me on top. I guess she is lucky I have a good hold on my dark side. If I didn’t, by the time they got her off my hands she’s need full facial reconstruction.

Do you hear me, you fucking cunt? I am out for your blood. No more freebies. You and the rest of your side, you’re going to hear from me very soon. You’ve gotten away with too much for too long. Time to pay the bill. It’s going to hurt. I am going to fuck you to the moon and back. I hope you enjoy stargazing while a porn movie is happening to your arse. 

On that happy note, I advice you all to watch Sense8. It’s an excellent series. Makes you feel human and alive.

Off to bed. 

The rebels of my round merry arsehole

I catch myself running. I have to be smarter than the ones who chase me. It’s guerilla war. They never show their faces or true intentions. They hide behind the mask of acquaintances or friends.  They are the ‘oh poor me’ or the ‘I’ll criticize the most irrelevant things with a personal attack’ garden variety enemies. On their own they amount to shit, but they represent dogma, fear, self-righteousness. They are the vessels for the Powers That Be. I smile, nod, run. Don’t look back. Don’t answer.  Just flee, dodge, laugh, put on some fantastic music. Don’t even bother.

These ‘lovely’ chaps are dangerous in only one way. If you don’t see them for what they are and you let them in your life and secrets, you are in trouble. Their beady rat eyes observe everything and evaluate everything. Because thinking is hard, they judge*, and everything that does not fit their idea of acceptable is immediately a reason to tell you their opinion. They are not jealous, but envious. They began their lives as rebels, but lacking the guts to back their convictions, they gave up. They occupy a couch, shoot opinions on everything (especially matters related to your life and choices) and shake their heads on how you can possibly be so gullible and immature. Or they have always been underdogs. Woe is me. Please pity me, oh poor me. Pity pity pity. Hard titty said the kitty. Eat my panties.

I sometimes wish I could tell them my opinion without any censorship. However, this is what they do, and come on now, I’d never do that. Besides I am not here to tell anyone my opinion on anything. If they can’t see they are being assholes, who am I to enlighten them? My job here is to fantasise about my glorious hero Nuare spending hours pleasing my gorgeous hero Nemeryl. Or the Archduke of Vantir, Aristius, paying homage with his lips to the flesh of his stunning L’etilian slave and-king-to- be, Liland. My job is to watch good series, movies, read engrossing books. I live to serve myself and my own pleasure on all levels, and be kind to those who love me, and not behead those lacking the good taste to do so. My cats worship me. If cats worship me all humans should stand in awe of my personal achievement. Bwa ha ha!

Other than that, I have editing to do. So long, and thanks for all the pageviews. :P

*Carl Jung said that.

Some thoughts on this blog.

1. In a few months from now (October), it will be 10 years since I created it. Imagine that. Ten whole years of me banging the keyboard like a manic orangutan.
2. I changed the font size of the entire blog, including past posts, to make it easier to read. I hope this is indeed the case.
3. I love this blog. It is surreal and profane and sad, just like its creator. It is also honest, and not mundane to the degree I could help it. I am responsible for it and it has grown into something important.
4. I don't advertise it and yet it seems that it has its own bizarre readership, at least judging from the number of page views and flags. Which is great, I am not complaining. But weird. I wonder who those people are and what they are trying to achieve by reading my inane musings and my rants. Oh well, pointless to wonder. Thank you for reading it anyway.
5. I am thinking about organising a small 'thank you' giveaway of some kind on the anniversary of its creation. Then again, I may by that time be in Australia, or dead. Or both.

It's very late. I should be sleeping, especially considering how late I slept yesterday. I just 'love' my insomnia bouts; nothing better than lying in bed jumping out of your skin at every single noise. Presently I am eating strawberries and seriously considering writing an article for a newspaper. I have no idea if they will accept it or not, but if this happens, I will let you know.

Moments of happiness

Sunrise sunset moeraki boulders new zealand

They are fleeting, like a flutter or a passing breeze.

Stepping out of my house I feel the light wind touching my face. The smell of jasmine caresses my nostrils and there is a near full moon in the sky. It resembles a giant precious stone that bleeds pearly light in uneven waves and patterns around it. The branches of the nearest pine tree move slowly. And for a moment there is no tomorrow, today, or yesterday. My heart fills to the brim, and I am happy. I'm not stressed with job hunting, I don't care about the fate of humanity, I don't worry about anything. I am fully there. My senses are full, and there is nothing I need and nothing I miss. I am whole.

I have only experienced this deep happiness while being outdoors and alone.

Music of excellent quality also creates landscapes I can temporarily reside in and find quiet, or excitement. That is why I collect good music in the manner other humans collect precious stones. Each favourite song is for me a sanctuary I can hide in until the 'storm' I am facing runs its course. Favourite albums are safe houses, places I can revisit. I make sure not to visit them too often because they lose their magic.

I don't need luxury. I don't need expensive gifts. I enjoy a good, soft bed, good food, nice conversation. I like beautiful landscapes. I like my aloneness. A single tree can make me happy. A sunset. The night sky. A good book. Cake. A massage. I don't need expensive shoes, bags, mobiles. I don't need much to be content.

Bearing that in mind, it's nothing less than strange how happiness eludes me...

I need to find a job and move away from my family. I really do. Alone is the key.

Allergic to humans (a serial killer in the making)

I went to visit a couple I know. 

I returned home incensed and disappointed with the human race.

I am tired of human beings. I know the particular people aren't the paragon of open-mindedness, yet I was reminded of it, and if I had been reminded of it in fifty years, it would have been too soon.

You know what? I am disgusted by humans in general. I am sick and tired of hearing the characterisation 'abnormal' for those whose sexuality doesn't agree with the speaker's point of view. My stomach turns by the fact we live in a society that 'normal' is the majority's point of view, and the majority expresses close-minded, homophobic, misogynistic, racist, sexist, insulting and patronising points of view. They label their bias arguments and then call me insulting because I don't want to discuss with them. No, when you are saying about someone "his ass was itching and asking for it" because they are gay, I am sorry, I don't want to discuss with you. I don't want to discuss with a person who links morality and ethics with an anatomical orifice. I don't want to discuss with someone who labels 'degenerate' another human being they don't know just because they know their sexuality, and demean their value as person based on that. What I want to do instead is get in one of those ships we sent to space to give to aliens information about the human race. I would have included the following information on the sketch of our solar system: a gigantic red "X" on earth, with a note that would read "BOMB HERE" in the five most-spoken languages of the galaxy. Please bomb us before our stupidity breaks free of all boundaries and infects the rest of the universe with the disgusting vomit we call mental processes. We are the cancer of this solar system, high and mighty bacteria with delusions of grandeur that need to be exterminated asap. PLEASE come here and wipe us out of existence. Honestly, I don't mind dying if I'm going to take all the stupid ones with me. It will be the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of the planet, solar system, equilibrium, you name it. To paraphrase Sherlock Holmes, we lower the IQ and empathy of the entire galaxy. We need to go back into being stardust, in the hope of forming something better next time. I don't want the kind ones to die too, but you know what, they will probably suffer less if they stop being surrounded by the stupid ones, so to hell with it. Kill us all, turn us into dust. Leave the planet be, she is perfectly innocent. But show no mercy to humans. I swear to you I will be thanking you with my last breath.

I know I should not bother. I know others are not my problem or my responsibility. I know I should not take it personally or become angry. But you know what? It's too fucking many of them and they are fucking everywhere. I don't dare open my mouth and express my true opinion on anything anymore, for fear of running into one of them. And I DO. I do run into them, they are like clockwork, they are more widespread than hydrogen. I have to police my mouth because I belong to the minority who thinks that all people regardless of colour, gender, age, sexuality, religion, etc, need to be treated as human beings, need to be protected, given food, water, shelter, education, health insurance, and a safe place where they can live and flourish and love and grow old by the side of the ones they love. I HAVE TO HIDE THIS FROM OTHERS OR I HAVE TO FIGHT AND ARGUE WITH THEM BECAUSE I BELIEVE IN THOSE THINGS, I BELIEVE EVERYONE DESERVES TO BE HAPPY AND SAFE. I HAVE TO LISTEN TO THEM CALL OTHERS ABNORMAL, DISGUSTING OR PROVOKING BECAUSE THEY HAVE A DIFFERENT SEXUAL ORIENTATION. AND I ALSO HAVE TO LISTEN TO THEM TELL ME I'M THE WEIRD ONE BECAUSE I CAN'T LISTEN TO OTHER OPINIONS THAN MY OWN, AND HAHA, HINT HINT, THIS REVEALS I AM THE ONE WITH THE CLOSED MIND. REALLY NOW?

If those aliens came and bombed us tomorrow, I would have died screaming, "what the fuck took you so goddamn long?"

And this is the reason I cry every single time I remember my late friend. BECAUSE SHE WASN'T LIKE THAT. AND THERE ARE SO FUCKING FEW OF US, SWIMMING UPSTREAM WITH OUR IDEALS AND HOPES, AND WE BECOME FEWER EVERY YEAR. THAT'S WHY I FUCKING CRY. 

FUCK YOU ALL. I AM SICK OF YOU. DIE ALREADY. DO THIS PLANET A FAVOUR, DO ME A FAVOUR AND DIE ALREADY. LEAVE ME ALONE.

Needless to say, I won't be visiting that couple again any time soon. 

(If you enjoy my content, please consider supporting what I do. Thank you.)

Some thoughts on "thank you".

You can call me self-centered or an attention whore. You can call me selfish. You can call me naive, but I am still going to write about this: it doesn't hurt to say "thank you".

I am a member of bookmooch.com, a very nice site for book exchange. The whole system operates on points. You give books you don't need, get points, then use those points to get books you want. Good? Good.

I have stated in my profile I don't mind sending books even if the other member doesn't have the necessary points. Anyone can message me and ask for a book and I will be only too happy to send it to them. What really matters to me is sending the books I don't need to those people who want them. So, when a member asked for a book and they didn't have points, I accepted. When I emailed them with my acceptance, they said it was very kind of me to do that. 

A month and a half passed. I emailed them and asked them if they had received the book. No answer whatsoever. Of course the book could have been lost in the post, or beamed up by aliens to another galaxy, but would it really hurt so much to write back and say, "Hi, I'm sorry, I haven't received it" or "Yes, thank you, it arrived"? That's all I expect. One line of text telling me they received it. And if I'm not asking for too much, two more words: thank you. They never replied to verify either scenario. And this is not a one time occurrence. I've lost count of the times I have given or sent something to someone without expecting reciprocation, to receive absolute silence as the answer. It doesn't happen only with bookmooch. It happens with everyone and everything. It's an overwhelming new mentality of goldfish attention span and thick skin. One would have thought I run a multidimensional scam operation and as soon as they said "thank you" their name would be automatically added to an infernal register and after that, they and their children and their children's children would be damned for all eternity to serve my dark lord Boiled Broccoli. I don't know what is to blame for this mentality. The wayward planets? The overuse of mobiles? The anarchist communist black Jews who are the Saurians who hide behind the Freemasons who rule the White house by shooting laser beams from their asscheeks? Or maybe the fact so many people live, drive, fuck with their heads so deeply shoved inside their asses they have no clue? Your guess is as good as mine.

Hey. Yes, you. All those 'you' I've come across. I only want to know you got the damn book. Saying "I received it, thank you" does not hurt you in any way. Acknowledging isn't shameful. It doesn't affect your statutory rights. It doesn't affect your health, lifestyle or coiffure. But it does affect mine. It makes me less and less willing to send anything to anyone when they can't be arsed to spend maybe thirty seconds of their glamorous life to type a few words and press the 'send' button. It makes me angry and frustrated that humans pay attention to you only if they have something to gain. It makes me consider not giving anything for free ever again, but hell, I don't want to become like the ones I described. I enjoy giving. I enjoy making others smile. 

Maybe that's my real problem.