Practicing curses.

[This is the only living being I would take orders from. Them, and their bigger cousins.]

I want to be terribly violent on someone tonight. Thankfully no-one is here.

I got seven kinds of furious today. I got harassed by a cop. The majority of cops here in Greece think they are the second power after God Almighty and even the Almighty is scared of them. So it's not unusual for them to talk to citizens in the manner a 18th century plantation owner talked to their slaves. Threatening me and arousing me and fiddling with my temper is not good for a variety of reasons, but let's run our options here and go back to the basics.

1) I don't own a Jaguar, yacht, a bank account in Switzerland, an offshore company or anything of that kind. In fact, if I owned any of those I would be living the quiet easy life those same cops are so intent on protecting.

2) I don't own whores, drugs, weapons (unless we count my farts) or sell any of those. If I did, I would also own several of #1 so these people would once more be interested in protecting me.

3) I don't have a rich father, mafioso boyfriend or girlfriend or pimp. Nor am I employed by them. Again, if I had any relation to any of them we'd go back to option #1.

How about talking to citizens in a more respectful manner, goddammit? I did not have the permit you asked for. I didn't rape your or someone else's grandmother, OK? Although your grandmother being raped by a cooties infested gorilla and you calling the offspring "dad" would explain a lot of things concerning your behaviour today.

Honestly, don't those people have something more productive to do? Like catch criminals? Then again, I live in Greece, the land of the gods and myths and logic. We don't catch criminals here. We offer them our vote and make them members of the parliament and Prime Ministers. Right...

So I'll swallow a ...

... and continue with my life. Mind you, I spent many hours fuming and a good half hour cursing in the old, traditional way, that includes grinding of teeth, shaking my fist to the heavens and colourful descriptions of rare and exotic incurable diseases that make people's flesh rot and fall off. I don't know if that works anymore or you have to be the genuine article to do it, which means living in a secluded hut and communing with spirits. But my grandmother did not live in a hut and her curses worked presto.

Mwahaha.

Godless

I never stop surprising myself.

It's amazing how someone can make me change my mind from one moment to the next. I am moody, it's true, but there are times I suddenly just get sick of a situation. And this takes place in the blink of an eye. And I feel the exact opposite of what I was feeling till then. Just like that.

I am just so tired. Tired, tired, tired. All these years have been nothing but battles. I feel I should just retire now. I should just go to a quiet place and rest my weary bones. I want nothing. I can feel connection to nothing save for art anyway. I don't know if I can connect to people and to what cost. More often than not the cost is so much more than the gain. I should find a quiet place, preferably next to a tiny waterfall and spend the rest of my life touching one of the rocks there and talking to it. I should be one with the rock until the day there will be nothing left of me, till my body vanishes and my voice echoes no longer. Till the land takes me in and holds me in its warm embrace. How many things can I observe as a humble rock? How many animals would come and nest or stay for a moment? And humans, would they come to sit on me and kiss? Would children use me as a fortress? Would someone spill blood on me? Would someone come to lie on me and curl and cry their troubles away?

Would someone come and talk to me?

Forever and ever caught in a circle of incarnations that cause us nothing but pain, and give us no reward we can use on this world, forever caught in a maelstrom of sadness, betrayal and disappointment. I want out. I want back home, I want to tread the empty halls of my true origin again. I want out. I want my wings back. I want back to the time being was delight, and I could sleep in the heart of newborn suns, and I could bring music into existence by smiling. I want out and away. I want back and I cannot. Even if I die, I cannot go back. 

What manner of existence is this? Why am I punished so? What did I do wrong to end up here in this sad place of being that most of the time feels like a cruel joke, like a half-finished attempt of a world in which nothing goes right? There is so much pain and not nearly enough truth and ecstasy to overcome it. There is so little to gain and so much to suffer for.  Innocence is a guarantee you'll get trampled underfoot and made to bleed. Only robots survive here. Only robots, liars and deceivers. People who's way of being is synonym to cruelty and indifference.

Why have you abandoned us so?

In a godless world, who can help me?

Why have you thrown me to the wolves?

Why?

When will this end?

When?

Getting nothing done is a fine art

I am not so sure of what I want to write.

I only know I am good at what I do.

Sometimes it feels like I am trying to untie a knot with my eyes blindfolded and my arms tied behind my back. I keep pulling at the knot with my teeth and eventually it gives way. The knot is, of course, inside my head.

Some days I am sure I am one big knot that defies gravity, logic and any attempt to be untied. But I’m going to reach the heart of the matter no matter what it takes.

Communication is improving. Before there was no communication.

I am trying, trying really hard. I am sure you have no idea how difficult this is for me, to keep trying while the messages I receive from you are discouraging. You can't see it because of your own problems that hold you tight. Over the years, I have seen so many people destroyed by their parents, their ability for intimacy uprooted before it could even bloom. Still you need to understand, this does not come naturally to me. What I am doing now is surpassing myself and my own conditioning, letting myself open and vulnerable. My whole being cries out against it. But I have to un-learn. I have to try and move on from someone closed and sealed like a safe to a person that leaves some light slip in. Judging by the way you are handling this, perhaps in vain. Or probably not in vain, but we don't do things because we expect a response from someone else. We do them because they need be done. But the heart wants what the heart wants and doesn't care about anything else.

The heart needs a place to call home. Even Endymion had Elidora to call her home. Even the maddest, most callous and cruel beings want a place or a person to call home. And home is where the heart is, the heart that is deceitful above all things...

Special thanks to B. for the beautiful song accompanying this entry and matching perfectly.

To Nowhere by Yuki Kajiura

Lyrics:

Can you hear the calling of the raving wind and water?

we just keep dreaming of the land 'cross the river

we are always on the way to find the place we belong

wandering to nowhere, we're paddling down the raging sea

Who can cross over such raving wind and water?

on the rolling boat we sit, shivering with coldness

come by an island, come by a hillock,

it's just another place, we paddle on down the raging sea

But in one morning we'll see the sun

bright shining morning dew singing

they who will search will find the land

of evergreen

Can you hear the calling of the raving wind and water?

we just keep paddling down the sea, up the river

no destination, but we are together

in the silent sadness we're paddling

down the raging sea down to nowhere.

Much activity here

Means I am in a rotten mood. :-) *chuckle*

I am listening to Iron Maiden's "Caught Somewhere in Time". Oldies but goodies. Music that accompanied my teens. And I am thinking, thinking, thinking. The wheels inside my head turn so fast that I can smell something burning. Hopefully it's not my laptop that has a busted fan.

There are things I want to write but cannot write about them here.

I often feel like an alien. My personality makes others react in a very odd way. This baffles me and hurts me and makes me consider dozens of "what ifs". "Perhaps if I did that, they would react differently." "Perhaps if I did the other thing, they would do that other thing." But the thing is, I don't want to change myself and the way I think/ feel/ behave. I don't want to regulate my behaviour in order to achieve "results" because those results will be fake. It is important to show others your true self, to not deceive them or misguide them about who you are and what you want. If I tell lies or hide things sooner or later truth will out and then I'll be the one who's in trouble. Therefore I try to make sure what they see is what they get. Sure, I don't talk about my full list of interests to strangers. For example, my interest in the supernatural, my fascination with serial killers and horror and my beliefs on various social subjects are strictly personal. But other than that, I don't pretend something I am not. Some examples are:

I am introverted and don't like meeting people very much. For me quality is a million times more important than quantity. Because of that I make sure not to find myself in situations that include a crowd I don't know. I am aware I am the one who's going to suffer if I do this and therefore I don't pretend I am social, or a party animal. I hate noise. I hate smoke, I hate drunken people. Can't be more clear than this.

I am opinionated and headstrong about lots of matters. I don't try to hide it. I don't care about being easy-going. I'm not. I don't mind what other people believe in as long as they don't lecture or try to shove it down my throat. But I am not going to pretend I agree with something I consider stupid. I'll keep my mouth shut and wait till the subject changes.

When it comes to liking others, I don't like most. This does not mean I'll disrespect them. I can put up with civil everyday contact but if I don't like someone I am not going to pretend we're best friends. I will not be insulting, I will not attack them verbally or despise them but as soon as there is nothing more to say I'll vanish. 

When I do like someone, as a possible new friend or lover, I let them know I do. I seek them out. I try to meet them again. I show and tell them I am interested. Usually the erotic arena is where the real trouble begins, because I don't like to feign indifference or play hard to get. My feelings, when they occur, are deep and genuine. However, the majority of people feel great discomfort, alarm and confusion when they encounter such a straightforward behaviour. They are used to games, fake indifference, people that approach them in order to take from them. Most erotic relationships have only sex as an exchange coin and no communication. If I was interested in that, I would not have this blog. I would be someone else. But I am not. Well, this pretty much scares off and freaks out everyone. And this in turn hurts and pisses me off. But as for how this can be resolved, the answer is not to my liking. I just have to wait for that one person that won't freak out.

Great. Just great.

My mind is OK with it most of the time. But try explaining that to feelings. Oh boy, you're in trouble.

So what do you do?

Personally, I love crafting and blogging. I have also found masturbation to be soothing. Actually anything that does not cause permanent liver damage or reduced brain function is fine. Especially if the reduced brain function in question is because I got so mad that I bashed their head in with a metallic ashtray or strangled them with one of their luscious cravats. No oxygen supply to the brain due to strangulation can cause permanent damage and it's such a pity when the brain in question is so quick and witty and talented. Just saying.

Oh well. When I become a rich and famous author they will all regret the error of their ways. Till then, crafting, blogging and masturbation seem like an excellent alternative.

Grumph.

Rhyming smutty scatological poetry, or,

...I am overwhelmed with happiness.

Midsummer afternoon poetry.

My ass has become as round as a peach, my boobies are blown up to heaven,

the bags under my eyes fit many gallons each, and I love to sleep in till eleven.

I perform dubious acts with my cats, and we purr and we lick in unison,

and we pat and we shake our prodigious butts, and we vanish in the line of horizon,

I by farting, thus propelling my way, they by bouncing and meowing excitedly,

I believe that this poem has gone rather astray, so at this point I’ll shut up politely.

And I’ll wave you goodbye, but I want you to know

that no mischief was done while creating it,

but my Muse is PMing and my mind is just slow

bet that too has to do with not dating.

Elizabeth V

Little things, beautiful things that make me go on

Like that video. That video is a good example of things that make me go on, because they are waiting for me to discover them. :-) And if I leave I'll never see, or taste, or hear them, and I'll be the one who's going to be poorer for that.

Watch the video. Don't be jealous of their bodies or movement. They weren't born with those muscles, they weren't born dancers. They were born just like you. What you see there is many thousands hours of dedication, practice, pain, frustration, and many many "no"s. Refusals to go out, to drink that extra beer, to spend that night partying. Dedication to any art is very much like monkhood. Nothing to be jealous of.

Look at them again.

Now, go out and make your dream come true.

Grumpy

[Art by tobiee.deviantart.com]

I am in a grumpy mood. It was not a good night. I spent two hours, from 04:00 am to 06:00 am tossing and turning on the sweat drenched sheets. Then another hour, from 06:00 to 07:00 staring at the ceiling. I finally fell asleep after 07:00 and woke up around 09:30 to 10:00. Unsurprisingly, I was in a bad mood although by now the particular routine is all too familiar to me. There are nights I cannot sleep until the sun has risen, and that's that. I miss my youth, when I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow... Haha.

I saw you in my sleep. You embraced me fondly as soon as you saw me and we chatted. It matters not. I don't care what happens in my dreams when my waking time is so different. It just adds to my bad mood when I finally wake up. I could have emailed you and told you about the other things I saw in the dream concerning you but what difference would it make? Would you listen? No, you'd probably freak out and run away even faster. Bah, I cannot be bothered anymore. I really can't. Run, knock your head on the usual walls you do, drink yourself stupid as you do anyway, take drugs, fuck around, try to escape your own self in every single kind of meaningless instant gratification you use. See what changes, what gives, what stays. And in the morning ask the stranger in the mirror what he wants from his life to receive the same shrug as a response. 

I should not be ironic, I know. I am not doing much better with my life; I would not know what meaning was even if it bit me in the arse one sunny morning. The only difference between you and I is that my body is still intact, because I respect it far too much to abuse it. Or because I am too much of a coward to dabble in the area of permanent alteration, save, of course, for my beloved tattoos. But meaning? Bah. Meaning is a lie. The only things keeping me here are untold stories and new songs I am waiting to discover and paintings to fall in love with. So decipher your life as best as you can and I'll struggle with mine. You might even be happier than I am; happiness, as I had written in my latest short story, is often found in the strangest places. So forgive me if I sounded like I was judging you. It's my disappointment speaking. I could and should do better than this.

A dear friend of mine is back from the "dead". I thought I had lost him for good but no, he's made a comeback I never expected. I am still too shocked for words, but happy. Life gives you lemons in abundance but from time to time also treats you to a big chocolate cake. I hope he stays. I have known him for so long and our qualities are so similar that he's a landmark in my existence.

I miss my heroes. I miss their qualities in my daily interactions with humans.

Next time I see Dorian I'll ask him to kill someone for me and I'll watch.

But Dorian is not part of this reality.

I am no part of this reality either.

So we're even.

I need to have more tattoos. This will solve pretty much everything. I am certain it will.

Beyond comprehension

It's so hard to explain.

It's so hard to live this life sometimes, when one has to do on a daily basis so many things that do not matter and so few of the things that really matter.

I am happy when I'm somehow involved with art. Creating it, or experiencing it on any level.

I am also happy when I touch animals or plants and have little chats with them. My energy levels have increased and the latest "trick" I do with plants is extend my energy to touch them all like invisible fingers, and caress them. I talk to them and thank them for doing what they can to the best of their abilities. Growing as much as they can, completing their cycle. How many humans can claim the same?

I love being alone. I wish I could spend the rest of my time alone and not miss human contact. But sooner or later I seek out company. Mind you, I have some good company. I have people who truly care about me. But still I wish I could somehow not need anyone on any level. The keyword is "need". I wish I could be self-sufficient to the point of seeking out company only when I want to. Working towards that. It's a very difficult and demanding path, loving yourself enough to be content in your own company. If I manage to move, the next months will be a step to that direction. Same goes with a possible companion. I will not get in another relationship unless I know what I am doing. And this takes time, effort and a clear mind. Things not available when attraction is involved. Well, it's up to me and no-one else, isn't it?

I want to become better. It's the hardest thing ever. Sometimes, I am certain it is killing me. But it's only killing those parts I don't need, so I guess that's okay. Even if it hurts like a bitch most of the time.

Problem solving

I have been meaning to write this for some time now. The actual reason is my frustration with the world that sometimes becomes overwhelming. There are days no matter where I look at there is nothing but pain and misery and trouble. And truth is, we do live in a world that is characterised by imperfection, pain and lots of trouble. However, if someone focuses onto that part of the world, they are guaranteed to go insane in a very small amount of time. What we can do is concentrate on what's right, on the positive parts of our lives, and slowly try to improve the negative, one thing at a time, baby steps, one by one.

That said, I would like to say a few things on help.

Help is a very tricky thing.

Generally speaking, help is seen as something good and the people offering help are viewed as "kind".

This is a very popular misconception, because most people who offer help do it for the wrong reasons and in a very wrong way. I'll try not to get into too much detail here, but give a few hints on problem solving instead.

Please try to help when you can, if you can. But don't get out of your own way to do it.

What do I mean by this?

Before getting involved in the first place, ask yourselves: Do I have the time and energy for this? If your energy levels are below the ground and you're up to your neck with your own problems, learn to say no. Unless you can keep your own head out of the current you cannot help anyone else do so. Don't worry, someone else will take care of that person's problem. If you let them. It's not your job or responsibility to be always available and willing, because this means you do not respect yourself and your own needs. And if you don't respect yourself, very soon you'll have very serious problems of your own. Learn to say no, unless you want to spend the rest of your life babysitting. You don't want to create needy people that depend on you to make up their mind about everything and anything.

You cannot solve other people's problems. I have been thinking I can solve other people's problems for years. It's another very popular misconception. You cannot do that, and it's not your job or responsibility to do that.You can listen and give advice, but always keep in mind your advice is good for you. It may not be suitable for the other. You can't solve their problem because present problems are results of past actions. The person who finds themselves with a problem has made a choice in the past that resulted in the present problem. They need to learn. Don't interfere in other people's learning process. If you were teaching someone to ride a bicycle, what would you do? You cannot learn to ride the bicycle FOR them. You can tell them what to do, you can hold them steady, but the rest they have to do themselves. They may skin their knees, get a few bruises, but sooner or later, they'll make it. Let them do this. They need it.

Sometimes all a person needs is perspective. We get immersed into our problems so much we think it's the end of the world. It's not. No matter what your problem is, it's something you can somehow face, solve, or ignore; in some cases it will go away on its own after completing its cycle (much like a common cold, or flu). No matter what is happening to you or someone else, remember: somewhere else in the world someone loses a person they love and they can do nothing about it. There are those who die, or are crippled, or in terrible physical pain, or lose their homes, or jobs, or sanity even as you read this. No matter what your problem is, put it into perspective, take heart, and be strong. There is someone else in a much much worse place than you are. Be grateful for what you have, don't take it for granted. Nothing is for granted. Nothing. Try to remind this to the people with the problem without making light of their pain or feelings.

One more point to consider is: is the person with the problem really interested in solving it? Do keep an eye on the progress they make. Some people are slow learners, so don't worry overly much. Some people want just to get something off their chest and need a friendly ear. That's OK too. But there are those people who habitually moan. Be particularly careful with them. In reality they don't want to solve their problem. They want your attention and energy. You can tell them apart from those in genuine distress because attention seekers always have the same problem. Every possible hint and idea you come up with is just "no good" because they cannot be bothered to change anything about the way they live their lives. They want a solution handed out to them in a silver platter that magically involves no effort on their behalf. They moan how no-one cares and loves them and there is a cosmic conspiracy against them, but they never offer help to anyone (unless it involves the chance to relate the exact details of their problem and gain more audience.) They are the so-called vampires, or drama queens. They always go and make the same poor choices which gives them the same problems in the long run, and can never understand why "god hates them". They are far too lazy to chase or do anything and they cannot understand why they cannot find a job or nothing changes in their lives. Steer clear of such people; they have the magical ability to turn gold into shit. Kind of Midas, the king of fable, in reverse.

Last but no least, ask yourselves: What about your problems? Have you solved them to the degree this is possible? Are you getting involved in someone else's life because you want to avoid your own problems? Do you give advice because it makes you feel important or useful? Can you maintain a healthy distance from the problems of others or do you make them your own? Be honest with yourself. If you are not certain about your motives, then don't get involved. If you cannot maintain a healthy distance, then don't get involved. If you have a million problems of your own you can't make heads or tails of, then don't get involved. It's not cruel or uncaring. It's honest, and truth will get you a long way...

Please consider adopting an older animal... and rescuing its life today.

  

Aw...we see this happen a lot when families are looking to adopt. While kittens are super cute, playful and big attention grabbers, adult cats are truly awesome. When looking for your next kitty family member, please take a look at our amazing adults too. Remember, kittens grow into adults quicker than you can say....kitten! 

"On behalf of us older felines here in the cat adoption room, I want to tell you why you should adopt us instead of a rambunctious kitten. First, we've all had homes before, and we know how to behave. Using the litter box, not scratching up furniture--it's all second nature now. Also, we won't badger you to entertain us as soon as the sun comes up. Hey, we like sleeping in too, and when we want to play but you don't, we'll bat our toys around on our own. But the biggest reason not to overlook us seniors is because we are so super affectionate. We know how to read your moods and decide when to rub up against you for a petting session, and when you'd prefer if we just sat with you on the couch for company. My own personal motto is, as long as you're happy, I'm happy. Well, I hope I've made my case. My pals and I are waiting to meet you and go home with you today."

View all of our adoptable baby and adult pets, in the following link:

http://www.friscohumanesociety.com/Adoption%20Applications/Available

PLEASE also check this- URGENT!

Pets on Death Row” was created to help advocate for NYC's Death Row Cats and Dogs. A group of volunteers desperate to save lives has turned into a massive community of caring individuals all over the nation – and world. Together, we are fighting to reform the NYC shelter system and save the thousands of adoptable animals from being destroyed there each year. The war is long and we lose many battles on a nightly basis – but we will not give up.. not until there are no more in need of rescue.

This page is dedicated to giving a voice to those without. Every day large numbers of adoptable animals are killed for reasons for reasons we believe unjustified. In most cases, these animals are loving, sensitive, and playful pets who simply lack a home. This page is their voice. Save a life. Don't shop. Adopt.

TO ALL WANTING TO HELP SAVE A NYC ANIMAL: Below is the link to the approved rescue groups that can pull from the NYC shelters.

Alliance Participating Organizations (APOs) Listed A-to-Z - Mayor's Alliance for NYC's Animals, Inc. (RESCUE LIST!):

http://www.animalalliancenyc.org/about/apos/borough.htm 

 Facebook page:

 http://www.facebook.com/PetsOnDeathRow/info

Busy...

...with a million things. Trying to change myself. Trying to become better at what I do, no matter what that is. Also trying to work out the mundane bit of life. Very hard.

Money problems drive me up the wall.

Reworking past poems. They give me hell.

Reworking past stories. Usually typing them. Boring.

Taking photos of myself, too. In some of them I resemble an old whore, in some of them I look like an alien. My charming dark circles in combination with my olive skin give the impression I haven't slept properly in months. And it's a pity because I love to take photos, especially when they have an interesting theme, like beautiful handmade clothes or a darker theme. I can't pull that off anymore with the weight I have gained, but I may try to do some unusual make-up in my next batch. 

Here is a decent one:

You can see my fat orange cat sleeping like a log in the background!

:-(

Beautiful cosplay picture by http://nanjokoji.deviantart.com/

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.

Always.

Maybe because I handle them in the wrong way. I expect too much.

Always.

Run back home little Elizabeth.

It's a safe place to cry there.

This too shall pass.

:-(

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

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

Dystopia

"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...

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.

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

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 me enter a noisy emotional washing machine.

Eclipses, how I love you...

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?

Nowhere.

"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.]

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.

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.

Trouble is an old friend of mine

Beautiful drawing by http://egosun.deviantart.com

I am looking for trouble in all the right places. And trouble finds me, kisses me on the cheek and shrugs. And I shrug too.

-Well met, Trouble.

-Well met, Elizabeth. How are you?

-“I am so screwed over” is the right answer. But you know that. I mean, we have just met. You’re supposed to be Trouble, not my aunt Helen. Don’t ask me things that are self-explanatory.

-Trying to be polite, Trouble replies. Never knew it went out of fashion. So, we cut to the chase then.

-Oh yes, we do.

-How do you want the chase to be this time? Trouble asks.

-Anything that does not involve chasing my own tail is fine, love.

Trouble hears that and doubles over with laughter.

-Are you plainly fucking delirious? He asks. We are talking about a male fairy here. Don’t tell me you don’t know what they are like. From all the things under the face of the good-ol' sun, you collided with one of the most whimsical, hedonistic, lying, obsessing, overindulging, sex-addicted races. And you don’t need me to tell you how murder is also their cup of tea, at least for some of them.

-Naga are the exact same thing, only they have scales and the ones I know don’t like to lie or kill, I interrupt Trouble playing smart ass. He snorts.

-Same difference to me. Are we talking about the fairy here or your collection of Naga acquaintances?

I shrug.

-So tell me about fairies.

-Come on, Trouble protests. You know everything about fairies. You have written half a book about one. You had picked the murderous type for the book, but other than that, there is nothing I can say you don’t know already.

-What do I do then?

-I don’t know, Trouble says. Run? Hide? Begin a stamp collection? It’s all the same to me. If I need to find you, I know where to look. My address book is always up to date.

I curse lowly. Trouble never lies.

-Do you think that I have some hope to get out unscathed?

-Ha, Trouble sniggers. I am the wrong one to ask concerning that. My job is to flay your skin, not give you advice. And he smiles a smile full of dagger-like teeth. 
I nod.

-You’re right. I am sorry. So, we begin?

-It has already begun, Trouble says and looks outside, then at his watch. He kisses me on the cheek again and I can swear this being smells like the tastiest thing ever draped over a rotting carcass.

-I am sure I’ll dodge you this time, I say seriously. I am certain the danger has passed. 
Trouble smiles his sweet dagger-collection smile and lights a cigarette.

-We’ll see about that, he murmurs.

-Goodnight Trouble.

-Goodnight Elizabeth.