oh dear, it's happening all over again.... [Archive]

Anita_Blake

13th September 2002, 02:35

very strange. i went to my friend's house, and i have come to realize that girls/women are so much more open about talking about sex than men are. at least, this is what i presume. i mean, i don't think men sit together and talk about technique and orgasms and how to talk to their partners after sex.... it's so easy for men, we decided, cause they always have an orgasm, but it's also difficult, because they are fairly responsible for women's orgasm capabililties, and we are difficult technical machines with lots of little dials and buttons and there is no instruction manual. i mean, we sort of have instruction manuals for men, it's not like they are that difficult....

well, that's a whole other tangent, and i'm not really saying the whole truth there, because men and women are both complicated beasts. and both have a difficult job in dealing appropriately with the other. so yeah... but the point of all that was to say that it's interesting how candidly women will talk about the most personal aspects of their lives, and i don't think men are the same way... not with other men at least. but then again, maybe i am just simply mistaken, since i am not a man, and don't really then know how they work, i can only presuppose based on the way i have seen men interact in publilc, but women inteeract differently in public than they do in private, so why should i make that sort of assumption? but i do, even knowing that it is quite the assumption to make. i'll ask my bf, he'll tell me. i think. but i don't know if i would tell him how detailed my conversations are with my girl friend. well, no ,i guess i would tell him they are "detailed" with that special intonation, but then he might think i mean more detailed than i really mean.

communication is such a strange and delicate monster. misunderstanding arise so quickly and easily. a look, a tone, a body position can be misread so severely, so quickly. a misused word can be taken so badly out of context. i firmly believe that 90%, well, maybe 75% of arguments arise simply from miscommunication. I hear people having conversations and because i am outside that conversation, i see that they are both saying the same thing, but they both misunderstand the other, and then they start arguing, and sometimes, if i know them, i try to correct them, clue them in to the fact that they actually agree, but then they turn on me, and start thinking that i am taking sides or making a whole other invalid point, when in fact i am just trying to clarify. sometimes, i don't think english is a very good language. there are too many ways to say the same thing, too many words to describe one thing, which can lead to things being more interesting, but it can also lead to a lot of silly mistakes. hmmm.... yes.

Anita_Blake

13th September 2002, 02:55

this isn't mine, i didn't write it, but i do really like it quite a bit, probably my favorite poem in the world. It's by Lawrence Ferlinghetti, a beat poet from the 60s. that's about all i know of him, other than that he was brilliant, 'cause i don't actually like poetry that much, but i hunted down one of his books for several years before i was able to special order it.... anyway...

The world is a beautiful place
To be born into
If you don’t mind happiness
Not always being
So very much fun
If you don’t mind a touch of hell
Now and then
Just when everything is fine
Because even in heaven
They don’t sing
All the time
The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don’t mind some people dying
all the time
or maybe only starving
some of the time
which isn’t half so bad
if it isn’t you
Oh the world is a beautiful place
To be born into
If you don’t much mind
A few dead minds
In the higher places
Or a bomb or two
Now and then
In your upturned faces
Or such other improprieties
As our Name Brand society
Is prey to
With it’s men of distinction
And it’s men of extinction
And it’s priests
And other patrolmen
And its various segregations
And congressional investigations
And other constipations
That our fool flesh
Is heir to

Yes the world is the best place of all
For a lot of such things as
Making the fun scene
And making the love scene
And making the sad scene
And singing low songs and having inspirations
And walking around
And looking at everything
And smelling flowers
And goosing statues
And even thinking
And kissing people and
Making babies and wearing pants
And waving hats and
Dancing
And going swimming in rivers
On picnics
In the middle of the summer
And just generally
‘living it up’
Yes
But then right in the middle of it
Comes the smiling
mortician

By Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Anita_Blake

13th September 2002, 03:10

i was going to post this on the "soDamn insane" thread, but then changed my mind, since i think it belongs better here. ...

mmmm.... i hate to respond to this since there are like, 2 other threads on teh same topic, but i can't resist.

"icing" hussein, or whatever, attacking the middle east doesn't solve the problem of people dying in armed conflict. it kind of actually assists that.

this will sound so stupid and childish, but sometimes i think children are smarter than adults when it comes to world affairs, but i wish someone would just come and take all the weapons away. Make it so nobody has weapons of mass destruction, force people to talk about their problems and issues, force them to come to some sort of peaceful conclusion since they have no weapons to fight with. force people to just get along because we all have to share this world and we can either fight and never move ahead, or we can just agree to get along with one another. idealist? yes, but what's wrong with that. so it might not be realistic, it's still a goal.

we should fight violence with non-violence.

it's not defence if someone hasn't already made a move against you. you're not defending your nation when you attack another nation based on the fact that you think they're going to attack. that's still offense. it's not defense until someone hits you. it's not defense to hit the friend of the guy who hit you. defensive offense, sure, maybe, but not defense, that's for sure.

all i know is, violence solves problems temporarily. and it causes more problems. it's a band-aid solution at best. people can fight, ot they can discuss. proper use of discussion can solve most problems without any bloody noses. violence is a direct cause of bloody noses. i am against bloody noses. noses should have no blood on teh outside of them, this is a firm opinion that i have. blood belongs inside bodies, pumping happily through veins, not creating rivulets and streams on the ground, or pooling underneath someone. children should have sidewalk chalk, not guns, and should play house with their dolls, not target practice with their neighbor's kids. all of these are opinions. and they belong to me, and i think to a lot of people. all people are free to take my opinion and share it. take as much of it as you want, i have plenty to go around........

Anita_Blake

16th September 2002, 13:38

so, it's monday now, and i finally am able to speculate on friday. what a truly strange and bizarre day that was. i mean, it started off calmly enough, my last day workign as a substitute TA at the fim school, that was kinda sad, damn the regular TA for coming back! I want her job!!! then i come home, expecting to get called to go to work at my other job for the evening, but they don't call. so i sit and read my book content, wondering that i will finaly have a friday night off. not that i would do much with it, but, still, nice to know.

then my underage friend calls me to come to the liquor store since she's afraid she'll get id'd. so i go, and decided that since she is stupid when she's drunk, she shouldn't be going off to college frat parties by herself with only people she doesn't know all that well, and so i decide to go with her. For her own safetly, honestly, because i was too indecisive to buy any kind of alcohol for myself, didn't know what i wanted, didn't feel like carrying much all the way across the city. so we go with some of her new friends from college, me being 5-6 years older than all of them, and kind of wondering vaguely what the hell i am doing with these idiots. i mean, my friend is 5 years younger than me, but she doesn't act it. these people, did. arg.

so we get to the college campus, and lo and behold, no one knows where the hell they are going, where this mythical 'party' is. so, fast forward through nearly an hour of aimless wandering and waiting for more people to arrive.... we find the party. it's in residence. most of you probably have a good idea of what that means. it's a shit-sty. a bunch of drunk 17 year olds wandering aimlessly with beer. good god. so, we hear rumor of another, BETTER party somewhere else. so we head off. Outisde the building, just as we are trying to decide whether to make the million mile hike to the nude beach or find this other party, some guy comes up and tosses us a mini-keg of beer. literally tosses. it bounces all over the place until i am quite sure that there is no way in hell i will be near it when it is opened. Then he tells us to come back to his place, which is the other party peopel were telling su about. he offers promises of free booze. absinthe! he says. so we follow, since he is pretty amusing and incredibly tanked. Somehow, this loser has managed to persuade 7 girls to come to his dorm room with him. will wonders never cease.

we get there and find that 'rob's booze has been stolen. of course. he continues to amuse us, so we stay, until he starts taking his pants off. then we try to leave, but have you ever tried to get a group of teenage girls to move when they are startign to get drunk? it's hard. anyway, we stay there for way too long, and finally 'rob' starts getting kinda scary, breaking fire extinguisher glass, so we leave, and a couple irls run back for the mini-keg, afer which we are forced to run like hell since this guy is pretty scary. some of have to get to the busses before they stop running, one girl has to be home way too early, so we are running to get to the busses and we go the opposite direction. Ladies and gentlemen, the Children Of The Future.

SSSo, my friend and i head home, realizign that this night is only going to get more lame. Figure we can go home, get drunk, and have a good time at my place. Without the pesky kidlets. So off we go, and on the way home, we walk past a bunch of people outsied an apartment complex, all smoking and stuff, adn i realize that i recognize some of them! It;s Our People! people we went to film school with! people we know and like and trust not to try to screw us! It was like a sign from god. So we went to the film school party and were instantly comfortable, surrounded by people that we may not ahve known, but who are wonderful and easy to be around. Even pissed drunk as they were.

Eventually, we got home, and i realized that that was the most interesting evening i have ahd for a long long time. :) It was nice too that it ended on tha happy note of partying with our friends. Which was completely coincedental. yay!

Anita_Blake

17th September 2002, 01:36

something curious about time, and the night air. the cool night air almost draws a bridge between all times. the past and the future and the present all merge together and become one strange, almost sentient being made of atmosphere and style. graceful. poetic even.

i don't think you can see the future. i think you can hear it, and smell it, and feel it, and taste it, and see it, like it's a second body instead of a sixth sense. but you can never "sense" it, you can only ever almost sense it. like an itch you can't quite pinpoint. you feel it, but you don't know exactly where. you point where you think it is, but its not there. that, my friends, is the future.

they should make a pinky and the brain movie. that would be a good future.

i think the future has more sinister things in mind than a lab mouse taking over the world. like a texas oil baron taking over the world. but that's too scary to be real. isn't it? i wish i could be a child again. none of it would matter then. being in love would just be a sweet dream, and the state of the world wouldn't weigh in to my thoughts one bit. i would be only concerned with the worms in the garden. money just happens. parents take care of everything that needs to be taken care of, and you have no worries. but that is the past, not the future. sadly....

Anita_Blake

18th September 2002, 16:58

well, got my fingers crossed. my bf couriered me his demo reel today, pretty cool punk video he did when he went across the country, so that i could take it to a place that is hiring. please, god let him get this job. any job. and me too. i would like a job, but if he gets a good job, then i can relax since then he can support me a bit. Which might sound bad, if you didn't know that i supported him for the three months before he left. With no income. That was interesting. only 10 days till i see him again. miss him like mad. i'm so happy that he's coming home. it's all i can think about sometimes. unless numbing myself by posting on wotism, of course. And then much music will have to decide to play his video. that will be very cool. it's kind of a shitty song, b ut the video is really good, like amazingly good. Considering that my bf did it all by himself. Wow. i should have watched it again before taking it away. sigh. 10 more days. wow. :)

Anita_Blake

22nd September 2002, 17:45

i feel rather giddy today. this isn't so much from my own personal accomplishment as it is from total and utter disregard for sleep and food. The thing is, i would eat, but not sleeping tends to make you feel kinda naseaus. Well, scracth that, i slept, from 12Pm to 2PM. Why???

Well, the 24 Hour Film Contest is why. i some how got fenagled into doing it again with the same fools i did it with last time. I mean, it's fun and everything, and it's super cool being called up to be an editor, but this time around, i am not proud of the work i did. I had to learn Premiere 6.0 and cut a not-more-than-6-minute show on it in 24 hours. Which is fine, except the show we shot sucked, the director didn't give me much coverage, and when he did, it was mostly just variations on the first take, which isn't what we call useable coverage, it's what we call bad planning, which is ok, i mean it's the 24 hour film contest, they give you the ideas you have to work with and say be back in 24 hours with a finished product. So, we start out at 10 AM, and we start shooting at 1PM, and we finish shooting at 4:30AM. I had the advantage of being able to edit previously shot scenes while they were shooting current ones, but the fact of the matter is, Adobe premiere sucks my ass. i hate premiere. it's really just that simple. I'm used to editing on AVID systems, which are incredibly wonderful and easy to use, have real-time and on the fly rendering, which makes it incredibly fucking easy to print to tape. But premiere somes along and says "oh no, you can edit professionally on a home pc, no problem!" well, yes, there are several problems. arg. especially when you're trying to cut 45 minuntes of raw crap into 6 minutes of golden hilarity and you only have 3 hours to get it done, because the stupid program will take another hour to render the show before you can print it out. arrrrggg!

also, by 7:30 AM, when you've been working straight through the night with slightly incompetent people who seem to only prove to you that you learned so much more than you thought in film school, and why didn't you just take charge and make this film great?, you have a tendency to get a little grumpy. i think it's natural. what amazes me most, is that i can still look at a computer screen without my eyes turning back into my skull, screaming good and loud for the world to hear, and then forcing the computer to spontaneously combust. Because, that seems like the way it should be. sigh.

my roommate promised to wake me up at 3PM, but he lied, because he isn't even here. It was all part of his clever ploy to make me sleep more than 2 hours, what, because he thinks that 2 hours will make me delusional? i already am!! also, i think my head is going to fall off, and my shoulders are incredibly tight. it's amazing. sigh. must resist urge to sleep. sleep is for the night... sleep is for the night..... ahhhhhhhhhhhhh

Anita_Blake

24th September 2002, 18:02

so, looking through my old pictures i realized a couple of things: i was hot when i was 16, and why didn't i have guys falling all over me? Also, being 24 now, i can see my good looks starting to go already. time to get a personality, stat. ah well, it was a good run while i had it. i guess. i guess i better find my talent now. cause, it's been lurkign for years, just waiting to be found, but i haven't quite cornered it yet. ah well.... it's a work in progress.

life is so funny, you know, because i look at all these old pictures from high school and such, and it occurs to me that i remember the events in those pictures, but it's like another preson's memories. like it was just another lifetime and it doesn't quite belong in this one. very strange. another location, another set of friends, andohte life circumstance, it has almost nothing in common with me today, except that it's stuff that happened once upon a time.... so strange. so very very strange.

i bought a book of MC Escher's graphic art today. it's so cool. i love escher's art. he's totally amazing. i'm not an art person, i mean, i don't go around praising different artists and such, and know what i;m talkign about, but escher just rocks my world. that's all. just had to share. :)

Anita_Blake

25th September 2002, 00:56

hmmm, i just read archely's post about the womanist vs. feminist thing, and i have to say, i agree. Women who bash men in the name of women's rights are just being extremely stupid. Men are wonderful, well, sure sometimes they can be ignorant and extremely silly buggers, but for the most part, they are great, and the world would suck without them. Women and men are equal but different, that's how i look at it. And i try to take that in my own life: if my bf wants to watch porn or whatever, or say that some other chick is beautiful, that's ok, that just means that it's ok for me to do the same thing, and say that some other guy is gorgeous. To me, equality between the sexes means that if a guy can do something underhanded, then i can do the same thing with the same consequences as the man might suffer, no worse or better.

I don't think that women should be treated better than men, i think that they shoudl be treated the same, and everyone should be treated like people. :) I mean, yes, men oppressed women for thousands of years, but non of those men are here today, and neither are any of those women, so the best thing we can do is to realize it was bad, let it go, and move on. :) Of course, that's my solution for everything, but it seems rather rational to me. :D

so, yeah, go archely! heh heh. :D

Anita_Blake

3rd December 2002, 00:15

ok. aliright. since nobody appreciates a little GW bush hate-rant, i will put it here in reflections. OK, here's the thing, i see him on tv again today, blabbering on about Saddam Hussein not 'taking the path of peace'. WHAT THE FUCK?! Coming from Mr. PEaceful Resolution himself, it sounds very hollow. HE goes on talkign about Iraq not complying with arms inspectors, even though they are complying far more than ever, letting inspectors into previously banned places, getting along famously. Then bush goes and starts ultimatum setting again, and what it really sounds like is "well, i'm going to get saddam one way or another, and i don't give a damn about the UN, i don't care about Osama Bin Laden, i will get that fucker hussein if it's the last thing i do." He's not even really saying "if" saddam doesn't comply, he's saying "when". It's just so stupid. It makes me really really mad. I mean, so, now if a sovereign nation doesn't hand over all it's military plans to the UN, it will be attacked. Bush is talkign crazy, saying "if the lists are not complete, we will attack". But there is no way to know if the lists are complete and accurate until after the weapons inspectors have had a good deal of time to do their work and inspect all the sites on thier lists. What is Bush going to do if the lists the Iraqi government hand over are complete? What impossible task does the iraqi government have to complete next? bring back a feather from the griffin at the end of the planet? I mean, come on. It's becoming more and more obvious that Bush is going to invade Iraq whether or not they comply with his amazingly demeaning demands.

Yes, Iraq has a bad human rights record. Yes, Saddam Hussein is not a nice man. But all Bush is doing right now is setting the middle east against him with his stupid determination to attack. The man has absolutely no skills as a diplomat... all he can think is "oil oil kill kill oil oil kill kill". The middle east is not a culture that appreciates threats. Nobody appreciates threats. People want a little bit of stability, they want peace, they want the power to govern their nation as they see fit. Saddam is not a good leader, but it shoudl not be up to an outside source to depose a bad leader. Historically, nations that are displeased with their leadership will eventually revolt... and the society needs that time to adjust, the time to turn the tide, the time to make their own judgements and do what they feel is right.

Nobody ever calls it a 'potential war'. It already is a war, it's just not official. Why do people have to die in order for GWB to feel that his life is complete? Why is money the only thing that matters to us anymore? What ever happened to caring about our fellow man, community, and working together to accomplish somethign that is bigger than all of us? How will our society be remembered? as a brutal war-obsessed culture of death, that in the end couldn't even leave wisdom behind for it's descendants? What are we doing? Honestly? What the hell happened to the human race.

wall street was wrong. dead wrong. greed isn't good. drive and motivation and the desire to succeed are good. But greed will lead you nowhere but to your downfall.

Anita_Blake

12th January 2003, 19:30

hmmmm. well. i'm terribly bored. ok. Well, it's just that... i want to help more people here today, but there aren't many people to help.

So, i'll move along. To things i hate.

Thing number one that i hate is:

having really really brilliant ideas when i am stoned and then not being able to remember them later. Cause, i had some brilliant thoughts last night. I remember being struck by some ungraspable knowledge, and the desire to write it down, but then of course it all got lost in the wonderment of the knowledge. damn. So, maybe i should be smoking less pot, well, that's not really a maybe, but since it's free and alcohol costs money, and my life right now kind of sucks, and i don't get to go out and do the things i might otherwise want to do, pot it is. I know that's terribly sad, and i'm sure if my parents knew, they'd be appalled at the pot-head i have become. anyhoo... now my friend came to work to visit me. so yay. bye.

Anita_Blake

27th February 2003, 00:07

wrote this about a year and a half ago. the universe thread made me think of it.

In the ruins of a great civilization, we fail to see the future of times gone by, the history of things to come.

Caress their great age and revere their dedication to standing, amazed at their ability to withstand the test of time, which is a great joke, because they have not withstood anything, they are but ruins.

In the crumbling decay of a world seen through my eyes, there is much poetry and beauty, destroyed, dismantled, now dust. Poetry in the lack of poetry, beauty in the desolate removal of that which was once beautiful. Revel in that which is no longer among us, revel in the thought of something more, in something less, in something period. Thought is not a right, it is a gift, and gifts are opportunities, things which we lack, things which we need. There can be no understanding without thought, there can be no thought without understanding and so we are caught in paradox, unwilling, unable, foolish tools of the mass media which has destroyed us in totality.

I cannot be held responsible for my lack of responsibility, for all I am is a product.

God knows I’m helpless and weak, full of piss and vinegar, god is as helpless as me, caught in the negatives. Theft of thought is punishable by death these days, and no one ever would have thought of something so brilliantly deceptive and cruel. The world cannot exist in this fashion, when destruction is creation and creation is destruction. The paradox is too much, and the fabric of reality is torn and bleeding. Life sighs out to me, and I see it calling, I hear it’s touch on my skin, but am unable to grasp it, and unable to fulfill it’s wishes.

Life is cruel. Heartless like myself, life is unrelenting and strong, pulling us along it’s twisted path of malevolence and hate, tearing us from that which is safe, for is there anything safer than death? Anything safer than not being alive? Nothing can be more than this. The blackness that is overwhelming and enveloping, the darkness that is safe and warm, the darkness that consumes us all before the moment of birth, that returns again at the moment of death. Life is unsafe.

Decay is a process and beautiful, but when applied to civilization it looks awkward and cold. Too many things here to be jumbled together by mere words, words cannot describe the torment of a thousand souls in union, the groaning torture of metal and concrete being asked to coexist with glass and tender flesh. The passage of such flesh should not be possible, but it is, but it is, and we take for granted that safety is a construct of life, when the only real safety lies in death.

And so we are brought down.

Anita_Blake

27th February 2003, 11:15

more old rants of mine......

yesterday, i had an interesting thought. that was then this is now. you see, thoughts have a funny habit of running away from you when you turn your back on them. they long to be set free. escape artists, they are, little houdini's in your head. and people wonder why i look at them so strangely. wouldn't you look at people strangely with hundred of harry houdinis inside your head, trying to escape through whatever orifice they can find?

yesterday, i had a thought. now, i have only the memory of having that thought, and the sure knowledge that it was a good thought, one of the better thoughts i've had. it was a random thought. random thought have this nasty habit of appearing at the most random of times, usually when you are on the toilet or in the shower. perhaps the one place houdini cannot escape is the bathrooom. but once you leave the protective force field of a bathroom, the thought is once again able to escape, running free, traipsing thorugh the flowers. damn my thoughts. damn all those fucking houdininis. i'd tell them to get out of my head, but that would be rather ironic, since what i really want is for them just to stay put in my head, not escape, not run free, not gather flowers and float on pixie dust.

if pixie dust is magical, then what is people dust? come to think of it, what exactly IS pixie dust? do pixies often get dusty? curious.

there is a kind of theme in the things i do. escape. freedom. entrapment. lonliness. am i trying to escape lonliness or am i trying to escape myself? very curious. perhaps i too am a failed houdini, a thought that flunked out of houdini school, a wannabe escape artist. there is a reason for all this babbling, i am assured. i don't know who keeps telling me this stuff, but it is someone, i know that much. there is a pixie on one of my shoulders, and he whispers thoughts into my right ear. there is a fairie on the other shoulder who grabs the thoughts and hides them away in her magical fairie thought bag. mabe the thoughts are not houdinis at all, but rather poor kidnapping victims. i mourn for them. perhaps i should spend more time in a bathroom. perhaps i should construct a portable bathroom that i can live inside and take with me everwhere, a kind of thought protector. then i would never have to leave the room to go to the bathroom, becasue the room would always be the bathroom. there would be curtains, and they would give me my privace when i needed it. i wonder how heavy bathtubs are?

time is a thing. some kind of a thing. it always moves forward at the same steady rate, never slowing, never speeding up, never stopping. it can be wasted. it can be well spent. time is money. time is my enemy.

i don't know what i am talking about, you see, and that is what people often fail to realize, that my face is a mask, there to protect me, there to hide my ignorance and my insecurities, there to hide the real me. but the real me might just be a thought, and if so, it has surely escaped, and i am kind of torn as to whether or not i should try to find it after all. sift through the millions of houdini-shaped thoughts that have escaped to places unknown. fear is a part of me. i am sugar and spice and all that is nice, and i am strong, weak, stern and forgiving. i simply am. i dont know what i am, i just am. i refuse to be defined. what am i? something, i hope. one day i hope to grow up to be some sort of thing comprised of matter and energy. maybe one day i can even decompose. behold the joys of being alive and in my head. where's houdini when you need him?

Anita_Blake

27th February 2003, 23:48

some days the universe comes to visit me, and it comes and dit crashes at my pad and it crashes on my head. it's hard to do things when the universe is crashing on your head, taking a rest there, passing it's dutites and responsibillities to you. it's hard to think straight with the universe on your head, and it's hard to ...

waking up alone is the hardest thing of all, to face your day knowing that you have no one to reach out to, to feel utterly unsupported and alone. even temporary, even just for today, it is crushing.

and the universe doesn't care. the universe is busy nesting in my hair. the universe is waiting.

Anita_Blake

28th February 2003, 13:45

what is chaos but a deconstruction of structure? so then, could we not deconstuct chaos to create a new kind of structure where chaos is not a negative thing but a part of creation itself. if matter is comprised of energy which is comprised of matter then what is time but structure and order created from that which can have no order. time is not real, it is merely a perception and when we wrap our minds around the fact that travelling through time is impossible because there is no time to travel through then perhaps a simpler way will be found to relive the past and discover the future.

such things can not be complex, the very complexity is what makes them difficult, to simplify the process is to find a simpler way, to find a simpler way is to simplify everything, to deconstruct order and create a type of chaos that is understood and known. it is too frightening perhaps to concieve of a well traversed chaos, but ultimately, all we have is this structure which is in fact a type of chaos that we merely understand, except we only understand the half of it, but in our belief that it is struture and order, we already fail, because structure and order is simply putting a name to the random which has enveloped us for all time. to admit to the randomness of it all is to admit that we are false creatures of pride and false truths, creatures of lies, creatures whih have lied to ourselves. to make such an admittance would be the end of all things sacred and holy, the end of civilizatoin as we know it, but the beginning if a new type of order founded in chaos, founded in the random.

to bring about the death of this era of lies is our destiny which we fear and long for, for though it is death, each death is simply a new beginning, one line ends and another begins, it turns into jagged peaks and it born anew once more. there are no ends, only beginnings, only fear of the unknown and to destroy that fear is to destroy ourselves and watch as a pheonix rises from the ashes. there is no salvation, there is no hope, there is only the inevitable, which must be feared, but should not be.

the fates must be satisfied, the universe have it's rewards, and in the end it is all about communication, there must be a communication betweent he past and the present and the future. time is infintley more simple than we make it out to be. there can not be the things which we fear. there is nothing. we are nothing. and teh universe is nothing. without an end, there can be no beginning.

here ends the lesson.

-november 29, 2001

Anita_Blake

1st March 2003, 02:01

more self-indulgent old-time rants from a time long forgotten. this is a bizarre combination of fact and fiction, reality and delusion. don't read too much into it. :D

So, it's weird, huh? I mean, you never would have thought, ten years ago, that this would have happened. No, it was never in any global forecast, and maybe I had a hint of it, but certainly no more of a hint than anyone else I know.

I used to have nightmares, you know, but when I hit my late teens, the nightmares quit. I guess nothing was more frightening than waking up in the morning to realize that time was rapidly increasing, that time was losing form, that life was disintegrating before my eyes and I was helpless to change a thing.

Time. It used to flow, backwards to forwards, and lately, it seems like there is no past and no future and no present, just a haphazard disarray of incoherent events, because really, all events become incoherent when disassociated with time. I am powerless to prevent these things from occurring, but I am not powerless to make note of them, not powerless to document and record them, watching the world disintegrate as I once watched time do the same.

Music was they key, once. I think there is a new key now, but I have yet to discover what it is. Things have not been the same for some time now. not right. no, definitely not right.

Tomorrow, I woke up, and got ready for work. Yesterday, I will do the same. You see how time has begun to lose control.

He wanted to rule the world. But it simply wasn't big enough for him, and so he wanted to rule the universe. The only problem was time. Time fought against him, and he fought against time, time was killing him, you see, because that is what time does to us all. He thought he could rule the world, but he failed to recognize the world's true master: time. Patient time. No hurries, no rushes, no worries for Time.

I am trapped here, you see, mad and incoherent, or at least, sometimes I think I must be mad and incoherent, merely because I can no longer remember what coherence is. Reality? I think that is surely a myth. I don't think. I don't think I believe in reality anymore. One brick stacked atop another atop another atop another makes a wall, this is how I think it used to go, but now, oh now, everything is different, because we build the walls by taking the bricks away, creation has never been so destructive, it is amazing and breathtaking to behold. Breathtaking.

Speech. I suppose it must have made sense once.

Where am I?

I might be found, I must be found, since I feel so definitively lost.

Gravity sucks me into its deep and dirty well, I may have drowned in its filthy maw. Yes, I am definitely drowning under the heavy influence of gravity, intoxicated almost, one could say. One could say, if one had the words.

When I was a child, I ate chocolate chips from the cupboard while my mother was sleeping, my theft unheard, unknown. When she answered the phone, I ate the butter. Perhaps I thought I was a cookie, waiting to be baked.

Still I wait.

Time knows me well.

There was a time, if there ever is such a thing as 'a time', when the music made me weep. I remember quite clearly, weeping at the music, as I remember too clearly by far when the monsters chased me down a black and white street conjured from my toddler's mind. Is memory too a lie?

Cohesion. Inevitably, it fails.

I saw the world once in a melting candle. It was an angel's wing and a devil's claw all wrapped neatly into one melting package that existed only in that moment, only while it was being simultaneously created and destroyed. When the flame went out, the angel wing broke. I went to sleep.

Things are never what they seem, they are no more than they seem, and no less than they seem, or any different that they seem, or exactly what they seem. The thing is, things just are. The seem is us. Two entities locked in their shortened world views of the other. And how do we seem to the things that seem to us?

I used to rip seams. Not often, and only when asked by my mother or grandmother. How did I seem to the seams? Oh how curious indeed.

Once upon a time, I tried to read a crystal ball. My eyes got very tired, and the reflection from the ball burned itself into my retina, but I saw no future. Because maybe there is no future, and all times are merely one time, the world spinning in revolution, spinning spinning spinning, does it get dizzy, do you suppose? I would get dizzy, spinning about like that for eons and eons, with never a break. If someone tried to take me over, I would surrender gladly, saying "fine, then. You spin around like this for a while now while I go get some sleep". Of course, if all times are one time, then maybe the world isn't spinning at all, but merely our perception that spins, our minds that reel under the pressure of trying to sort out structure and order from that which is essential chaos.

I told him that there is no fun in taking over the world. I told him that if he took over the world, he would feel empty. He hit me and ordered me killed.

Sometimes, I am unsure of whether or not anything is worth anything. I once had a bracelet that I bought at a school garage sale, it cost me next to nothing, and it was ugly, and the metal was not sturdy, but I enjoyed it. Was my enjoyment worth next to nothing? When it comes to that, what, then, is my worth?

Language creates another barrier between me and my mind. I am confined to the words that I have been taught, and I am confined to the symbols I know. Education is a prison of sorts. I am free to go.

Understand that when he took over the world, it was not out of spite or rage, or erectile dysfunction issues. He was sick, you see, sick of the way the world spun round and round meaninglessly, with meaningless people committing meaningless evil and meaningless harm. He wanted to give it some meaning, and that must be taken into account. He wanted to help us all. Even the ones he ordered killed, like me.

The butterfly, it was so beautiful on the flower. The air was hot, and the butterfly behaved like a butterfly on a hot day, and sometimes, you just have to take into account that life is a strange strange thing. I shouldn't have been there, maybe, not like that, but I was, and I saw the butterfly, and I witnessed the beauty, and that was that. It doesn't matter whether something was meant or not, once it happens, you can't take it back. Unless it never happened. Maybe I haven't seen the butterfly yet, the orange and god of its' wings in brilliant contrast to the pink of the petals and the green of the stem, the pineapple growing behind, the dark stump of wood beside the flower. I have a picture, but maybe I never took it, maybe it never happened, not till next week, what is a week? What is time? Who am I to be constricted by time?

He thought that he should be outside time, you see. and one thing alone cannot exist outside time, for time is a jealous creature, time time time. All I can think of or see is time, and I wish it would go away, I wish it would come back so I can stop thinking about it.

Snowflakes. They went up once. I saw it. I felt time then, tightening around my chest, making the air thick, making me sleepy, and trying to conceal the upward drifting snowflakes. How odd, I thought. How beautifully odd.
And the music then, was the same as the music now. Music to make you weep with triumphant sorrow.

And that shadow, that dark dark shadow, like a hand over my home, floating, drifting in the sky, but staying ever over my home, did the fingers reach out then and touch me? I think they did. I think the world wept and I did not even know, and the world, outside of time, it knew, it saw, it wept for it's own destiny that my part was so small in.

Cement. God, it's ugly.

But if spaces get smaller, isn't that alright? Comforting small wombs of a home? And if the air is no longer clear and lovely, if there is no open space left, is that so bad?

He was wrong. He was so wrong. I think.

I tried to stop, stop thinking. I tried to stop him, but some things are meant to be, and others aren't, but you can't do anything about them anyway. Some things are just inevitable no matter how wrong, and how much they are not a part of fate's plan.

I never knew anything.

September 26, 2001

Anita_Blake

4th March 2003, 23:48

something something something. i want to say somethign of interest and of import, but i am left speechless. no particular reason. but apathy steals words as well as feelings. i don't know what i am talking about, and that's the greatest part of all. because if i knew, i would be terrible and sell the thoughts that i knew to be absolute truth. i would call it the bible. but no, i recognize that in fact i know nothing. this has no value. knowign that i know nothing and proclaiming it loudly doens't make me wiser. it doesn't give my words more insight, though it would be easy to think that were so. in fact, it make my words as meaningless as they actually are.

i hate television. i want something other than television to amuse myself with. video games only go so far. books, ditto.

rick the temp is stupid. why is he still on much? i mean, really. he was supposed to be a temp. how many years has he been there? with his stupid faux-hawk and now he's got cornrows? wtf? sigh. i can't talk about this anymore. it just makes me so apathetic. or maybe just plain pathetic. whatever.

sigh sigh sigh. double sigh. perhaps event trips and quadruple sigh. but not quintuple sigh, because that's just taking things too far. i mean really. there has to be limits on these kind of things.

i hope that one of george w. bush's family members dies due to medical malpractice. i'd like to see him in court trying to accept that his "pain and suffering is only worth $250,000" personally, i don't think that pain and suffering can be fixed with any amount of money, but i do think that GWB is a world class wank and should get a taste of his own medicine. also, perhaps he shoudl get some combat gear and go fight in one of his wars. or even some protective gear and work on one of his oil rigs for a month, since he's so fond of oil. fucker. whatever.

this has been a testing of the emergency right to free speech network. actually that's a lie. this isn't the emrgency free speech network. and even if it was, i'm not the person in charge of testing such a device. no no, it's just me babbling insanely as i am wont to do. or something like that. soon, a tv show that i like will be on and my attention span will go that way, and i will absorb the advertisements and endeavour to work like a good worker bee and buy products. be a good consumer. anyway, i'm good at shopping. so, there you go. we're all good at somehting, and i'm good at being a consumer. does that make me evil? so be it. whatever. and that's the last word on the matter.

whatever.

Anita_Blake

5th March 2003, 23:29

well. looky who's here. look. and once you've seen, can you come back and tell me? i don't like surprises.

so, it turns out that poison tastes good after all. you woulnd't have tought that, but it's true. it's just that most people don't live long enough to tell the truth. but i've got the truth right here! in this envelope. just put in you life savings, and the truth shall be revealed!

so, yeah. then one day, got bored and didn't go to work. tomorrow i will go to work, but there was just no point in it today. sigh. there are only so many hours in a day. i need several of those to huddle on my couch watching tv like some kind of battle-scarred refugee whose only salvation lies in the curative powers of television. take me away from my life tv, and give me one of your exciting ones. or something like that. you know how it is. ilke this way or like that way or something like that way. oh, life is never the same without a chinese teacher to tell how to do things. i mean that fondly. i loved my chinese teacher. his voice had a hypnotic charm. like a bee charmer. could put even the most rambunctious student to a deep sleep. or something like that way.

ode to nf.
<end rant> :D

Anita_Blake

7th March 2003, 03:05

wavering in a haze of drunken blurriness i stumble i fall, i have fallen from grace. there is no salvation i am unworthy. heaven is not for those such as i. hell does not want us. we are the unworthy ones. religion deosn't help us. faith cannot not comfort us in these times of dread. all there is is the words. and words are so hollow so meaningless so empty.

right.

thta's why we don't talk about the things that are important, that's why we don't talk about the things we truly care about. because words mean nothing.

if that were truly true, i would be dead.

words have the only power over us that exists. words mean so much more than ever we imagined in our civilized modern minds. oh how we mock those who placed such a value on words. what power could mere words have? and that's why you keep silent. and that's why you don't mention the hurt. and that's why no one knows you but you. because words have no power. because magic isn't real.

right.

and how fucked up is that? and how false are we to our very own selves? words mean more than we could ever imagine.

impossible is not a factor. the magic is real. the words do have power. power to hurt, power to heal. beyond that, what is real? what is power? love is power. by that logic then, hate is the absence of power. there is no power in hate. the only power worth having is in love.

end.

Anita_Blake

7th March 2003, 05:49

i hate this world we live in. the past comes back to haunt us. actors, and artists are blacklisted for speaking their mind. n oone is safe from the all-seeing eye of the government. we know it was wrong in the past. we hated mccarthyism. we strove to ensure that would never happen again. and here it is, ugly head reared, careers and lives being destroyed because people have the audacity to dare speak an opinion different from the government. i thought i would never have to live in a time where we were threatened by war, in a time where people could ceae to have a career because they opposed the official government. i thought all that was over and in the past. but it's not. it maybe never was. it's so hard to trust when you watch the news and see civil liberties being removed systematically, watch so-called intelligent world leaders tackle complex issues like children at a playground speaking of good and evil.

terror has us in it's grip. but terror comes not from without, but from within. never forget that the only opes who can make you afrais are the ones you love,. the ones you trust. those who you distrust have no real power over you.

i am so terribly afaid.

the world is big and vast and terrifying as it was when i was a child. things make no sense. i could cry for the frustration of it all. all i truly have left are the words that protect me, tha language that coddles me, keeps me safe, gives me the comfort that i long more than anything.

the world is a scary place. we forgot that once. we thought it had stopped being scary. in fact, it was only us who stopped being afraid of ourselves. we have only ourselves to fear now, we determine the course of action we will follow, we decide where we will go, what we will do, how we will react to the actions of others. we can't control others, only ourselves. and our self-control is seriously lacking. it's like a world of hostility has been unleashed upon us, but in fact, it is only that we have once again opened ourselves to the hostility within ourselves, and that's more frightening than anything in the universe, knowing the evil that lurks within ourselves. Blame it on someone else. Pretend it's evil from the outside. say that we are good and all will be well. it's easier to fear the unknown than it is to fear that which has always been deep inside us. so yes, be afriad, live in terror, shrink from the world around you that seems so horrifying and strange suddenly.

but know that you alwyas were afriad, know that it was always only you, know that the terror that has lurked was never caused by anyone else but you.

god and the devil are absract. don't count on them to solve your problems in the moment. there's a backlog of prayers at the moment, and yours may be answered anytime in the next million years. so fuck god, and fuck the devil and fuck you too. because after all, we've all fucked ourselves at some point in another, and here we are, just doing it again. yes, fuck you if you see any difference between 'us' and 'them'. we are all small and petty, young and weak, fearful and tenuously clinging to the little bit of life we know.

hope= fear, and in the end, that's all we have. fear. and. hope.

there is no salvation that we don't make for ourselves.

Anita_Blake

8th March 2003, 17:05

sorrow is a funny thing. when i feel sad i could just laugh at how terribly funny it all is. in fact, that's a blatant lie. i mean, it could have been sarcasm, but it wasn't. it was a lie. how do i know? well, because i was the one who just said it, now wasn't i?

where was i?

oh yes, the nature of sorrow. well, put bluntly, it sucks. that's about all the wisdom i contain on that matter. or on any matter, as a matter of fact. yes, factually, i am not wise. what a shocking surprise that is. i make no claims to wisdom, no claims to have secret knowledge. my only power lies in my ability to know that i know nothing. how very zen of me.

so, once again, life turns into a hollow parody of itself. isn't it amusing when that happens? no, no, it really not. though, in a way, it is. gives one time to pause and reflect not only on how shitty everything is, but on how great it used to be. on how great it was when you weren't paying attention. so, not only is the grass greener on the other side, the past is a golden time . great. what about the here and the now? well, i guess that's the nature of the human mind, isn't it. glorify what you don't have, hate what you do. i guess, in that regard, i'm lucky. i know this to be true, so i fight it daily by attempting to appreciate what i have. i know that the best times of my life were deeply appreciated at the time. it's easier to let go of it when it's gone that way. because, ultimately, all good times must come to an end. it's not the end that matters, though, it's how gracefully you deal with the end, how much you appreciated what you had while you had it.

because i'm really one to talk. bi-polar much? sure, why not. it's more interesting that way. i may talk about death and sorrow and the end of days, but at least i love the feeling of depression that takes a hold of me, i love the way that the world can change colours in an instant and chaos is unleashed upon my unwitting mind. because, i know it's going to happen whether i like it or not, and really, it's so much easier just to give in, buckle up, and enjoy the ride. either that or fight it, have the dark power of depression and the harsh edge of fighting. see, the secret, is to enjoy it just a little. because, if you're enjoying it, you can't really be depressed. if you're happy when you're sad, you'll never really be sad.

there's a sick twisted kind of logic to that. i enjoy it. not that i'm a masochist, physically, but i thrive on mental anguish. my own, never anyone else's. does that make me sick? sure. why not. so be it. it's got to be less sick than striving for perfection in all ways, and being constantly disapointed by my lack of adequacy. who needs that kind of emotional mess? not me. i have a different kind right here, and it's packaged up in a neat little box with pretty shiny ribbon and nifty metallic paper. with holographic squares. they change colour in the light. i like that. rainbows within rainbows. once, there were two very bright, very clear rainbows in my yard after a storm. it was one of the most beautiful things i ever say. i will strike down with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to state that the prairies are not beautiful. there is nothing more beautiful than the prairies after a thunderstorm. during a thunderstorm. rain pours down your neck, you are instantly soaked to the bone, and it couldn't be more joyous. am i only happy when it rains? sure. because the rain is a beautiful thing.

end rant.

Anita_Blake

9th March 2003, 03:36

ok, the funny thing is, i wrote that last while i was at work. not stoned. totally not stoned.

but looking at it now, i realize, it seems really stoner-ish. weird. i think my mind naturally treads a circutious path. when i'm high, it's just slower, and only slightly more so disjointed.

weird noises keep happening around me, and i'm seeing phantom cats running in my hallway. cause my cat is right in from on me. sleeping. peacefully. so cute. but, the inportant thing is, i'm kinda freaked out now. noises. ahh. and yet, i'm not sure if i'm not just over-reacting to absolutely normal sounds that i wouldn't notice if a) other people were home b)it was day time or c)if i wasn't high as a kite. so, i think i'm getting freaked out about nothing. which is annoying. because just when you let your guards down, BAM! you weren't overreacting, IT WAS SCARY! and you know that, so that makes you freak out more, because goddammit you're not going to not freak out and have a real emergency. which is a pretty dumb way to go about dealign with thumpings in the building when you are alone and high.

so, this is not very deep. but trust, me, i never intended to actually write this much. yes, when under the influence i talk a lot, and since there is no one at home to talk to, i have to talk to people who aren't reading. hmmm. well, just type it out for myself, really cause that helps to organize the thoughts better. really.

oh man, i am so stoned. i can't keep to one chain of thought. it's kind of funny. tee hee. anyhoo. what was i saying? oh, yes, please disregard this post. if've you've read to tthis point and wish your money back, the money back guarantee is ONLY valid if you return the item unopened. so, if you are reading this and wish you weren't, i'm sorry. you probably should have stopped 30 sentences ago. way to go, dumbass. it's your own stupid fault if you are stil reading this, you know. i mean, honestly, didn't it stop beign good 12 paragraphs ago? was it ever good to begin with? what is going on here? man oh man. alrighty. see, it's just that typing is kinda addictive. eek. they're home, time to stop typing madly. :D hee eeee heeeee :D

Anita_Blake

9th March 2003, 03:51

ok, i didn't know where else to post this, but i found it to be rather amusing. it's written by Canada's favorite asshole-musician, Matthew Good (http://www.nationofcool.com/index.php?cat=mg&mon=03&year=2003&ID=25&act=artic:journal&jID=36) :

I had an idea last week to send 1,000,000 cowboy hats and US flags to Iraq so that they might wear them and fly them so as to confused the Americans if and when they arrive. Opening “Tex Mex” restaurants all over Iraq might also aid in the confusion, especially if they come complete with large breasted blondes wandering about.

Beer. Beer is the key to an Iraqi victory. Never mind the chemical and biological weapons. Beer is the ultimate weapon. Sixes and twelves of MGD and Bud Light to confuse and distract. Throw some lawn chairs in there and a bikini contest and an unconditional US surrender might be doable by noon of the day of the invasion itself. There is no greater force in the world, as The Americans and us Canadians discovered when stealing the North American continent from the First Nations peoples. Alcohol beats the bomb, hands down.

Mind you, I could be wrong about all of this. I have been known to be wrong in the past. On many occasions as a matter of fact. This could very well be one of them.

Anita_Blake

9th March 2003, 15:17

hee hee, i'm funny when i'm high.

ok, so, now i am at work. i have nothing, read: nothing to do. i'm sitting hereon the off chance that someone somewhere in the building will have an emergency of the type that i can respond to. but everyone seems to be doing just fine. sigh. i mean, i probably could go and cause some runtime errors on their machines, or make iot so that their hard drives disappear and all their media goes offline, but i think that since they are all in front of their computers, they might wise up to the fact that i am just causing easily solvable problems to give myself somethign to do. well, i could make somethign up in after effects, but really, that starts to lose it's appeal when you keep making somethign stupid for no point other than to amuse yourself for a few minutes and familiarize yoruself with the software more. sigh.

i really want to get a sewing machine. really really. i bought this really funky 60's psychedelic crushed velvet fabric yesterday to make a slip cover for my love seat (which is really ugly) and i spent over 4 hours yesterday sewing said slipcover by hand. my fingers are numb. that jsut shouldn't be allowed. i mean, everyone should be forced to have a sewign machine. not that io really know how to sew, but if i had a sewing machine, i would learn. well, i kind of know how to sew, just not very well. and when you have to sew everything by hand, it's not a good incentive to learn. i just really want to finish this slip cover. it's going to look so cool. all swirly and colourful and bright. the couch itself is white. or rather, it was white when manufactured. now, it's kind of dingy grey with holes and even dingier spots. i got it for free, so i can't exactly complain, but well, yes, i can complain. nobocy ever sits on that couch. it just doesn't look hospitable in it's current incarnation, but with the velvet swirl, it will be way too cool for school. yay.

anyhoo, so apparently, i have nothing interesting to say today. i was talking with my friend yesterday about x-men 2. she is less than hyped. because she hasn't seen x-men. i will force her to see it. she just doesn't understand that it's a truly fantastic movie. Then again, she tends to only like art-house flicks. lame. she has no appreciation for the big-budget, hollywod action flick. true, many big-budget action flicks are super-lame, lame beyond all belief. but then there are some, some that just take you away and entertain you purely for 2 hours, take you out of your body, draw you in and suck you away. x-men is like that, i think. i love that movie. i am so excited for X-2. there is no way it can suck. i know this instinctually. and hence, i am very excited. sigh. chicago, on the other hand, that's a whole other story. i really don't get musicals. just so not my thing. i mean, chicago was an OK movie and all, but 13 oscar noms? WTF?! that's just absurd. retardedly so. if that's the kind of movie that gets the oscar nomination, then i hope i never make an oscar-worthy movie. i just want to make movies that entertain people. get some unknown actors to star in all my movies. no big-name stars. big-name stars may occasionally be really great actors, but i honestly think it takes away from the character when you are just thinking "wow, kevin spacey is such a great actor" for the whole movie. it's harder to be drawn into the filmic reality when you are thinking about Julia Roberts. Because it doesn't matter what character they are playing, big stars always are thought of as themselves. no more is anyone watching verbal kent, it's kevin spacey. (not fair, because that was the movie that made kevin spacey the huge star that he is) but you get the point. the actor isn't important, the character is. the trick is to find an actor good enough to be the character completely. sigh. i want to make a fun movie, not neccessarily a 'good' movie. a movie that people can enjoy just for the sake of enjoying a movie. is that so wrong? does that mean i am less of an artist? fine, then so be it. i don't care about my status as an 'artist'. i just want to entertain people. and to hell with the critics. *nods and ends rant*

Anita_Blake

10th March 2003, 14:32

an idea for arch: canned soup. it's brilliant. cheap, easy to prepare, and doesn't go bad in your cupboard if you go away for a week. ;)

Anita_Blake

10th March 2003, 15:52

hmmm. pondrance for the moment:

decades of bilingualism in canada, and what has it brought us? an entire generation of anlgophones who don't speak french, don't understand french, don't particularly like french, but can translate the hell out of a cereal box. oh, sure if someone ever actaully said "fromage vrais" to me in a sentence, i would look at them with a blank stare and wonder why the hell they couldn't learn the real offical language instead of being all french, but on a food label, i know it means fresh cheese. at least i think vrais is fresh. if i was looking at a label, i would know. can i say it? uh... maybe you shouldn't ask.

oh boy, all hail bilingualism. it works so well.

****the preceding pondrance was brought on by watching Fromage all morning on Much. Those who don't know what Much is, it's canada's MTV. It's actually good though. we do have an MTV Canada, and it sucks. Much Music isn't great, but it sure is compared to MYV. Much actually shows music videos. Fromage is the yearly awards show for the cheesiest videos of the year. it's hosted by a sarcastic sock puppet who lambasts the Backstreet Boys and question's Enrique Iglesias's sexual orientation. If America ever got a hold of Ed The Sock, the entertainment industry would be a hell of a lot more interesting. thankfully, he remains partially canadian (well, he is from toronto, after all, and toronto is kind of it's own nation-state. it's also the center of the universe. look on a map, it's right there in the middle of everything. isn't it?)

>end weird western canadian rant<

Anita_Blake

15th March 2003, 05:29

well now. i am drunk. i wish i had somethign more interesting to post than that, but i don't.

i went to a party. it was supposed to be rocking. it wasn't. isn't that alwyas the way? when a party gets hyped, not many people show. i don't know, maybe they don't think they're cool enough to show up at a party that is that well hyped. maybe it's not as well hyped as i thought. no matter. all that does matter is that i went, it was lame, and then i went somewhere else after everyone else left that party. and i had some awesome calamari. truly great. i can always appreciate a good plate of calamari. tender and soft, now chewy and tough. not like rubber, more like tender tender bread. so soft, so delicious. possibly the best calamari i've ever tasted, and that's not the alcohol talking. jack's dining lounge on granville streeet in vancouver if you're looking for a late night calamari treat. mm mm good. *sigh*
if only i could have eaten it all. alas, drinkign and deep fried food tend to not blend well, so no matter how delicious it may be, there is a point when you must stop and say " 'tis delicious, but no more. no more i must have" and then pay your bill and cab home, because it's raining. trust me. this must be the way.

sigh. it's funny, becuase i have all kinds of deep and masterful things i could post, but alcohols and drugs wipe away all those grandiose thoughts, sad but true. one of the great reasons to remain drugs free, except for caffiene, which does nothing but fuel the fire. don't ever say i didn't warn you. and also, i never said i wasn't a hypocrite. so, blah, there you have it, yes, i think drinking and drugs are bad for your mind, but at the same tie i indulge in them frequently. well, more frequently with the pot than with the booze, but whatever, it's all the same in the long run. it's bad for you, btu i's so fun at the time. so. blah. so sue me. i never said it was good for you. never said it wouldn't make you a hollow shell of yourself; in fact, quite the opposite. do as a say, not as i do, and all will be well. well, ther you have it. turned out to be my dad after all. oh well. too bad.

fare thee well and have a great day/night depending on if and when you shall read this. all i can really do is give the gift of happiness. which i have. or something like that.

oh, and one more thing, which my bf has just brought to my attention: renaming french fries to freedom fries is just stupid. the bastards who did that are going to look back at that and say 'man, what a stupid fucking thing to have done at that time'.
the moral of the story being if you start calling fries 'freedom fries' you will have to be not my friend. it's just plain stupid. stupid i call it and stupid i shall remain to call it. for it is stupid. i hate freedom fries. :mad:

:kill: freedom fries

:love: french fries

cause, the french didn't even invent french fries, i think it was the belgians. NOOOOOO!!! not the belgians! fight them! rename french fries! ~idiots~. grrrrrrrr. so glad i live in canada and am not subject to idiocy such as freedom fries.

Anita_Blake

18th March 2003, 15:59

i had a vision. it was a vision of unsurpassing sorrow. it was the feeling of the world letting out a great sigh. no one wanted this. no one thought that this would be good. no one wants to kill or to die.

shortsightedness.

so busy watching the bumblebee we missed the charging bear/elephant/tiger stampede. oops. well, we'll deal with the stampeding insanity once we get that damned bee.

sigh. it's such a charade. in the end, we all knew it was inevitable. maybe we even all wanted it. take our minds off everything else.

sex can take your mind off everything else. sex, love can take you places you never knew existed. oh, the pain is bittersweet, and that hook will never really let you free, bloodied and scarred you'll be forever, but isn't it better than the alternative? oh yes, better than any alternative. just a little piercing, you thought, just a little tug, but it goes so deep, and then you find your heart pierced, your lungs, your every being. it is life, and you never knew. you never knew what it was to be alive until that perfect joyous moment. surely, that is better than to kill, surely, that is better than to die.

but we all die. piece by piece, little by little. sometimes, for some of us, there is no peace. not inside, not where it counts.

you can spend a lifetime thinking that war is over and done with, thinking, it'll never happen in my time, thankfully, my predeccessors learned better. they taught me better. they taught us all better, didn't they? didn't we learn that love can heal everything? that peace comes from within? that fear comes only from within, and never from without?

i learned that. apparently, not everyone got that lesson.

life is a sad, strange, beautiful, terrifying thing. delicate. fragile. eaily crushed. i have died bit by bit over tha past years. since birth, we all have. day by day we die. and occasionally, we come alive. occasionally, we can breathe.

Anita_Blake

19th March 2003, 03:36

i saw the most amazing thing today. It was on the bus, which, granted, is not all that an amazing place to be. It was a young chinese toddle, which also, in itself, is not that amazing. Toddlers, are, after all, what we all once were. And i think, that is the amazing thing. This baby, he stood on the seat while his mother ehld him, he touched the dirty window, his little fingers relishing the condensation on the windows. HE didn't do anythign remarkable, really. Just look around. That's all. Stared at things. Looked at people. And with all his innocent child-lookinf, i realized, he is not just looking at things, but learning from them. He is learning how people sit when they ride the bus. What it feels like to travel. Learning things. Little things, but things that may shape his life, however subtly. I never see adults looking at thigns the way this child looked at things, but i think if i had seen it, the world would be a better place.

There is a point at which we decide to stop learning. We have learned what the world can teach us, we say to ourselves, and we shut off the part of our mind that is inquisitive, the part of our mind that thirsts for new things to learn. I don't want to reach that point. A child in all it's innocence can know more than it will ever know for the rest of it's life. Sad we cannot continue that steep learning curve throughout old age. Imagine what could be possible then!

I then came home and got involved in a conversation with my boyfriend, in which we realized that all people might as well be on different worlds. Everyone has a 'self' behind those eyes that stare so curiously at things. Everyone is the hero of thier own personal story, and the world is differently viewed through 6 billion pairs of eyes. 6 billion different worlds that coincide somewhat at the points where people meet and connect. Perhaps that whole 'same wavelength' thing is just 2 worlds coming closer together, two sets of eyes seeing things similarly. I say eyes, because, ultimately, we are always looking out from them. The 'us' that makes us us. except for blind people, i suppose, but i am not blind. i cannot pretend to know how a blind person experiences the world, how they experience the phenomenon of themselves. But then, i cannot pretend, really to know how any other person experiences themselves.

My bf wondered, how many people are really aware of the fact that inside the heads of the people we meet are people very like oneself. I believe that everyone recognizes this simple fact once or twice in thier lives, some more often, because the simple fact is, it's very uncomfortable to acknowledge that people actually exist oustide of one's own interactions with that person. To acknowledge that other people go to the bathroom, and think on the toilet, and scratch their bums, and wonder about dinner, and think about the universe, and have thoughts and feelings that are totally similar to those you think and feel, but completely unrelated. It makes one feel very small and unimportant, when in one's own experience, one is actually very important, one has an entire body to control, a mind to think with, a universe of thought to fill. It seems to make one less significant when one realizes that so does everyone else in the world.

we imagined, together, a collective mind that humanity could muster, seeing all things that all eyes see, feelign all things that all individuals feel. it frightened me, and i stated that the paradox od such a collective mind, where each person was an indicidual and yet at the same time is one member of a perfectly collective mind, like parts of a body, i stated that such a paradox would cause the universe to promptly implode. i wasn't taken very seriously. Of course, i didn't say it very serously. but i shuddered at the thought. to hae a mind and body, and yet to share that mind and body with 6 billion other minds and bodies equally.... well, for one thing, it makes no sense. but in a weird part of my mind, it makes a terrifying sense, and i don't like it. of course not. the individual mind shrinks at the horror of sharing a body. the body and the mind are separate, physical and non phyiscal, but they depend on one another. i described the mind, the soul, the 'self' as a kind of non-physical parasite that clings to the physical self and defines it, until the two become utterly dependant on eachother for survival. twisted together like rope. once untwisted, the rope is weak, and frays, and is no longer rope but frayed thread. weak. it falls apart.

so, late at night, these are the thoughts that plague me. it was a good conversation. there are few of those in the world, so it's best to take them when you can, and cherish them. write them down. keep them.

Anita_Blake

20th March 2003, 18:14

the touch of a button,the flick of a finger,and a building comes down. who inside? bad guys, surely. must be. Anyone there would have to be bad. right?

weapons of mass destruction are not all they seem, for an airplane can be one too. we must disarm the airplanes.

at the flick of a switch, watch the building come down
who built it, i wonder? were they proud of their architechture?
How long did that building stand before it was torn down, ripped apart in an effort to destroy evil? Did a janitor clean it every night? What did people do there? did it have a function? did someone ever look out it's window at the view? Find a moment of happiness there? never again.

a world away, so easy to forget all the little things. 'they' are not like 'us'. they live there, we live here. that makes us different, doesn't it? any excuse to forget that we are responsible for destruction too. we are not perfect. we are not gods. we are not always right, no matter what history seems to tell us. history is glorious. we are not, and never have been.

forgive us.

Anita_Blake

28th March 2003, 00:15

well now. not mcuh to do. post a reflection. reflectino, reflection, i seem to have no reflection. that could be because i am not in front of any reflective surfaces, but that's a pretty wild guess if you ask me. Maybe it's because i am soulless. Soulless people have no reflections. neither to vampires, according to most mythologies. But, again, that's becuase they have no souls. The soulless cast no shadow, either. did you know? That's what your shadow is, you're sould being reflected in the material world. Or so some say.

it would be very strange to have no shadow. things would be much brighter without shadows. and stuff would probably be transparent. t'would be odd, indeed. are we only alive because we are solid and cast shadows, make reflections? is that what really separates the living from the dead... solidity? Think of it, millions of dead people passing through you every minute, invisible, ephemeral, casting no shadow or reflection, but still with a consciousness? Weird, but cool. When i die, i hope i become one of the reflectionless ones. living on without material form and solidity. is this where religion comes from? the desire to be without a cursed reflection, no dark shadow hindering you, keeping you from passing through your obstacles? could very well be. but of course, i speculate only and make no wild claims, promises, or guarantees. It's the most i can do. And because my ego, unlike myself, knows no restrictions, i can also believe since speculation is the most i can do, it's the most anyone can do. Is there anyone who knows more than I about the unknown? How can they? If you know some great cosmic truth, surely, this world must seem inferior and you would have to leave this world to be one with the great cosmic truth (GCT). hence, ther can be no great cosmic truth, only matter and energy and the soulless drifters and whatver else is out there. But truth? High Knowledge? Well, they could exist, but what is the purpose of searching for them. They are unobtainable, struggles whihc have no end, fruitless labour. Instead of seeking out the higher truth, i saw the truth that the higher truth is in simply living life, loving, feeling, weeping, emoting, and then, having lead a rich and full life, you die. Long ago i decided that to search for the GCT would be to let life pass by un-lived. That would be a true waste.

And life isn't all good. No, some parts of it are just awful. Some parts of life are simply too painful to go on. But you do. And you are better for the pain. Like bacterial infections. YOu have to get it once in order to build up an immunity. That's life. You have to feel pain to build up an immunity to it and to make you a stringer person. Sometimes, despite what the story books say, love is just not enough. Sometimes, nothing is enough, and then, life just sucks. But what i'm saying, is that if you learn to faintly appreciate the suckage, to learn from it, to grow from it and heal from it, then it will hurt less. YOu'll grow. That's what life is.

somethign about being alone at night. quiet, peaceful, time to think for oneself, wihtout the psychic interference of others in the room. yes, i think i've captured it there, psychic interference. Because no matter how you feel, when someone else is in the room, it's hard to think the full thoughts you would alone. Surface thoughts. Hard to think about the universe when other people are in the room, even if they are sleeping. Because your psychic energy is being affected by those in the building. Maybe i'm sensitive to that kind of thing. I think i'm getting to be more psychicly attuned, even though as described above, i stopped trying to attune myself. Certain things have made me feel this way. Hmmm. psychic interference. that explains why so many writers go off to the woods to write. get away from the psychic interference of those around them. And those you love, those closest to you, sometimes they don't have to be in the room with you to be psychically in your way, do they? SOmetimes, parents, loved ones, they are always somewhere in the back of your mind.

well, I think it's an interesting theory. anyone who wishes to can discuss it with me. of course, i might later ocmpletely contradict everything i've said here, not believe it, etc. Sometimes i say i think things that i don't neccessarily believe. Or maybe i just think i don't believe in anything because i'm too afraid to believe in anything. hmm. this is an intensely personal inner monologue that i am posting on the internet for the world to see. something that once, long ago, i would have written in my black diary. Strane to think that once thes thoughts would only come to a pen and paper, never to see a keyboard. keyboards are highly untrustworthy. deleting things. handwriting is much more expressive, and there is something almost magical about the way a pen permanently scars a piece of paper. So smoothly, the pen glides across the paper, and where once there was no meaning, there is now meaning, feeling, purpose. This is surely why the ancients found the written word to be very powerful.

This very long and rambly. I'm almost certain that no one would read this entire thing and not be baffled at where all this has gone to. I'm not sure i ever would. and yet, in the secret heart, there is the hope that someone else woudl read this and say "yes! i have felt this!" and even if they never tell you, even if you never know, someone else is comforted by the words. or amused. or at least even remotely understood. that is the goal of writing, isn't it? to hope that someone else will see the beauty that resides inside one's own mind? It's a strange world we live in, chicken-ducks, getting stranger by the day. But some things don't ever seem to change.

Anita_Blake

29th March 2003, 17:47

hum de ho. no particularly deep thoughts today, so if you were looking for some more of those, you might as well turn back now. :) Becuase i am at work. Bored. Keeping myself amused by watching Willow on dvd on my work comp. :) Further amusing myself by making nifty willow-themed avatars after ripping images from the dvd. So far, i have 3 pretty good ones. It might be tough to choose one for the next avy war. Prety excited though. I'm trying to make avy's that are good in context of the movie, but also make sense and are amusing for those who haven't seen it. As far as anyone who hates the movie... well, i don't like you anymore if you hate Willow :p There's really nothing i can do about that. Doo de doo. i want to put up a new avy NOW!!! I wish it was monday for the avy war to be judged. la la la. it's still not monday. darn. but it's still saturday.

i want to go to a pawn shop to find a sewing machine, but i have a slight fear of pawn shops. they are inevitably creepy. I don't know why, they just are. And i am never sure on the protocaol for bargaining prices. Do you ask for a lower price? Do you just take it? I mean, there's not a big 'bargaining' culture in canada. we just see the price tag, add on the GST and PST, and hand the nice man the credit card. Or the debit card. Or sometimes, the cash. My one and only attempt at bargaining prices for wares was a dismal failure. That was in mexico. I got ripped off royally for some sarongs. I asked him, how much, and he said "200 pesos" amd i was like, well, hoe much for 3, having heard that sometimes they'll go down for multiple items. He said "600 pesos". I rolled my eyes and was like, no way, so he just shrugged. I felt so foolish, so i was like "400 pesos?" and he was like "500 pesos" and i took it. That was like, $75 CAN. I could have got them cheaper in canada. Really. i felt like a retard. i knew i got ripped off, but being typically canadian, i didn't want to say anythign about it. :rolleyes: Sigh. Sometimes being polite doesn't pay off.

but back to the story, i really want a sewing machine. I don't know how to sew, but i am determined to learn. I feel quite certian that given enough practice, i could one day make a nice article of clothing. All this has transpired since discovering the depths of the fabric store across the street from my work. they have a simply amazing bargain section. Very cheap fabric, and some f it is even pretty cool. Some of it is super cool. and i really want to make a corset. One day. But first, i need a sewing machine. Because if there is one thing i hate, it is sewing by hand. I mean, it takes so long, and the quality is not that good, unless you are trying REALLY hard, in which case it takes even longer, and by the time you are finished, you are sick of the damned thing and never want to see it again. Only to find out that you messed up and have to fix it and throw it down in frustration and end up giving it to your cat as a kitty-bed. Not that this has happened to me, but i can firmly envision it being that way. *nods*

Soooo... the moral of the story is, i must face my fear of pawn shops if i am to find a sewing machine, for it is so very not within my budget to go around buying $400 sewing machines. sigh. it'd be nice to win the lottery. then i'd have the money to learn how to do all kinds of things. I could be like a super-woman. I'd have my own editing system, a super-online suite, a giant craft room, and my own library of books that teach me how to do stuff. :)

hum de hum. doo de doo. laa la laaa. getting kind of bored. maybe i shoudl watch some more of Willow. Or go get lunch. mmm. lunch sounds good. pizza maybe. mmm. mmmmm. *drools*

*runs off to find pizza*

Anita_Blake

30th March 2003, 16:20

so, another day, another post in reflections. I come here with no plan, no grand scheme, no ulterior motives, only to write whatever may come from my fingertips. Sometimes, that's when you make the most revelations, the most meaningful things. You can't really try for that sort of thing. You have to let it come. But then again, being as how i am at work sitting in a computer lab with some students who may periodically ask me for help, it may prove difficult to form any coherent thoughts. Which i am totally OK with. coherence, in my opinion, is deeply overrated. I mean, a story is supposed to have a beginning, a middle, and an end, mostly i guess, because that's what aristotle said, and we've proven to be extremely resistant to arguing with aristotle. After all, he's dead. It is rather difficult to argue with the dead and/or ask for clarification. But it occurs to me that in life, not everything does have a beginning a middle and an end. Well, maybe it does, but life is not terribly coherent. I mean, there are far too many people for life to be coherent. People randomly enter and exit, and i see no reason why thoughts shouldn't be the same. Why do we strive for all this 'coherence'? Well, it does give the illusion of order to the chaos that is the universe, But the thing is, coherence is just an illusion. It makes us feel that yes, indeed, we are in control. When in fact, we control very little. Our own actions. Which, when taken in the context of the size of the universe, the number of uncontrolled variables.... well, the teensy bit of control we have is really quite pathetic. And thus, i deny coherence. I see no reason to lie to myself and others by following a so-called 'rational' chain of thoughts. Thoughts are kind of like grasshoppers. They jump around, and to them, it makes perfect and total sense to nibble from one bit of wheat and then hop off to another stalk, nibble off that, hop around a few more times. What logic does a grasshopper follow? Who knows, but the point is, thoughts are the same way. They don't always methodically go from one wheat stalk to the next, eating it down to a stub before moving to the next one. no, thoughts, like grasshoppers, thrive on variety and motion. And when you think of it that way, two thoughts that are on the surface completely and totaly unconnected are, in fact, probably connected in some way, and the challenge, there is to discover how and why. Following a logical path of thought is merely treading over old ground. walking the paved road. why the hell would you want to do that when there is so much undiscovered country to traipse through. Sure, some of it is dark and scary and dangerous, but well, at least it's something new.

not that i'm saying i routinely think of new things. I just think that if i write down all the unconneted thought i think in rapid succession, i might find some new ground. perhaps. or not. at any rate, it's a good deal more interesting than following one line of thought till i get bored to death and stab myself in the eyeball to create some interesting scenario. i mean, who needs that? i kind of like my eyeball the way it is, thank you very much.

now, i'd just like to mention that music is a beautiful thing. as are movies. art. and i'd also like to say that when i first read it, anne rice's vision of 'the savage garden' in the vampire lestat really appealed to me. you know, where she says that the only real truth in the world is beauty. which might sound a little vain or something, sound like it has no room for ugly things, but the thing is, nothing is really ugly. some things, you just have to search harder for their beauty. sometimes, the inherent beauty is hidden deeper. Sometimes, it's only evident when 2 objects are together, that they are both beautiful, when alone, they are not. I don't speak just of physical beauty, because while it can be breathtaking for the eyes to behold, there are other sense that appreciate beauty. 5 other senses. maybe more. yes, i believe in a sixth sense. the unseen one. the unfelt, untasted, unsmelled, unheard sense. what do i have to support this? nothing. didn't you just hear me? i said it wasn't detectable by the other senses. duh. it's the unevidenced sense. but it's there. you can feel it with more than your body if you don't try. the key is not to try. they key, is to just ignore it. is that a paradox? probably. i don't think anything is worth much thought unless it doesn't make any sense at all. Because, if it makes sense, then there is no point to thinking about it any further.... it already makes sense. It's the things that don't make sense that are easier to think about. Or, at least, more worthwhile. trying to understand the unknown... that is a worthwhile time expenditure.

or something like that. lost my train of thought. questions will do that to you. if we only use 5% of our brain power, what then is the other 95% capable of? i mean, i know i'm not the only person to wonedr that, to ponder the capabilities of the mind, but it's still a rather fascinating question, probably because all the answer to it are theoretical. there really is no answer. but, all the best questions have no answer. if they did have an answer, life would be much duller. we fear the unknown, but that's kind of silly when you think of it. the unknown is what makes life an adventure, what makes everything so interesting. when will i die? that's the big unknown. it's the one that taints everything else. the big fear. the big unanswerable question. when do i get to stop asking questions? i don't want to know everything. i think that would grow rather tiresome. i want to search forever. Ulyses had a hard time having to come home after all the adventures. He strove so long for his goal that when he finally achieved it, he probably didn't know what to do with himself. The best goals are the ones that can never be achieved, but are so strongly desired that you never give up. sometimes, i think that's maybe why i have a hard time trying for anything. Striving. because the goal is never the true goal. It's the quest for the goal that matters. christmas morning was never the same once i realized all the fun was in the waiting, the wondering, it wasn't the presents, it was the wondering what you would get. maybe that's what growing up is, realizeing the nothing will ever live up to the anticipation, and then, growing weary of spending too much energy anticipating any one thing. i want my anticipation back. it's true what they say, ignorance is bliss. when you know too much, evrerything becomes stale and drab. is that where our society is at? always looking for something new because we've done so much that we don't know what to do with ourselves? japan will be the next superpower because it's culture seeks to continually improve, while western culture strives to seek out new ways to avoid working. Everything we do is designed to give us more leisure time. time to not do anything. time to watch tv and get motivated to buy things. But even buying is made simpler. don't go to the store! buy online! from trh comfort of your own home! call now! no wonder our society is a wasteland of the obese, the mentally dull. We have never had to work for anything. maybe that's why i like to do crafts, why i like to sew, learn to do things the old fashioned way. Sure, it's easier the new way, but that's just the thing. It's easier to appreciate the things that you work hard for. I'd love to have a farm and milk my cow or not drink milk, make my own butter and cheese, grow vegetable and pick them fresh or eat nothing, slaughter my livestock to understand that it's a life being taken that allows me to eat meat and live more. Work for everything. except for maybe water. i do rather like plumbing and electricity. refrigeration. I couldn't be all amish. nope. that's just too much. But to mix the modern amenities with the old fashioned work-ethic, now, that would be grand. i wonder how long i'd be able to make it if i were ot do something like that. how much leisure time i would sacrifice to get things done the right way. i wonder if all this comes from my farmer genes. oh to be self-sufficient. i do kind of think that's a bit of a pipe dream in today's modern society. but i'd love to live like that. maybe i should move to saskatchewan and live with my farmer grandparents. houses are cheap there. hmmm. t'would be interesting. my aunt would probably like it. she's from the ukraine. i think she's rather lonely out there. but maybe not. she does a lot of stuff too. oh, now this is just far too much thinking about reality. i am actually pondering giving up all i know to live a simple life. not terribly seriously pondering it, but pondering nonetheless. having a farm with lots of cats and dogs and chickens and a couple cows and maybe a few pigs. a big plot of vegetables and a greenhouse to grow tomatoes year round and mayeb green peppers and such. it sounds so idyllic, letting every waking moment be comsumed by the earth, doing everything to accomodate my needs myself. it would feel like being true to a very large part of myself. though there is the other part of me that loves cities, and shopping, and partying. i think that as i grow older, i will probably strive more for the simple life. but i do wonder if i really could. that's the question that plagues me. unanswerable, of course. :)

Anita_Blake

30th March 2003, 17:40

wow, i just copied my whole reflections page into word, and here are the stats:

37 pages
17,492 words
75,961 characters (no spaces)
94,003 character (spaces)
315 paragraphs
1,657 lines

of course, that's a little bit off because i kept the date tages, but removed all the name tages and such.... and i left lots of spaces between posts.

this information leads me to two (2) conclusions:

1. i write a lot for 33 posts. it's like the way i talk... don't i ever come up for air? big old wind bag. yikes.

2. i have way too much time on my hands and not enough to do while i'm at work. i mean, do you realize how long it took to copy and paste, reformat the word file, and make it look pretty so i can save all this crap? Probably at least half an hour. and i was only interrupted once. man, i need to find something to do today. and also, does anyone read this crap? i mean, i know some people do because they've commented on stuff to me, but seriously, i don't know how they have the patience to endure my crazy ramblings. man, i probably seem either really pretentious or else really bored. the truth is probably somewhere in between, i guess. man.

*realizes she's doing it again and flees*

:eek:!! i have fleas!! ;) :p

Anita_Blake

1st April 2003, 21:42

arg. why is is that it seems the only time i need to work long hours is when i have PMS and cramps and just want to go home and lie down. I mean, my job is pretty fun, so i generally enjoy it, but i don't want ot be here tonight, i don't want to do what i have to do (well, not really) and i was going to come to work tomorrow at 2:00 for the one class i ahve to teach, but then the other girl i work with is taking the day off because her mom's in town, so i got asked to come in at 11:00 instead, which was OK, but now because other stuff happened today instead of us cleaning the computers, i have to com in at 9:30. I'm tired. i want to do laundry. i want to sleep in. but no. i was supposed to take yesterday off, and i got called in in the afternoon, so i didn't get to do the stuff i was going to do. sigh. i won't get a day off until friday, and i will have to fudge my time sheet because i'm not supposed to work more than 5 days a week, even though i probably will still be under 40 hours, i am not allowed to do any over time, and today i am doing over time, but technically i am doing two different jobs and i just want to go home, curl up in bed, read my book, and go to sleep. warm, comfy, not moving, not thinking, just close my eyes and rest. alas, it is not to be. i have to stay at work for another 3 hours. and the teacher i'm assisting hasn't given me a really very clear idea about what i'm supposed to be doing yet today, and he just left to get supper and ARG!!!!

mlah. wanna go home *pout*

*pout pout*
*poutpoutpout*
*whine*

Anita_Blake

6th April 2003, 00:19

well, another day. gone by.

good news, i found out that my sewing machine has been located by my parents, and will at some point be shipped to me! yay! the bad news is that i had pretty much made up my mind to go buy a new sewing machine, so now i will have to settle for my old 1950s hunk of unreliable junk. I don't think i've ever successfully sewed anything with it. Which is sad. I hope i can figure it out, now that i have the desire to learn how to sew and to make stuff for myself. well, i guess i'll just find out.

i wish i had something interesting to say. alas, i fear that i do not. my head hurts slightly, and my neck, and i am kind of tired, but not tired enough to go to sleep. and there is no one in chat. :( On the plus side, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom is on TV. i like that movie. my roommate insists that it is the worst of the series, and maybe he's right, but i love it anyway. I watched it many times as a child and enjoyed it greatly. sigh.

i wish i had something to do. i mean, i suppose i could find something, but that might be difficult. sigh. i like to sigh. sigh. perhaps i should just go. write somethign more worthwhile. like a script or something. i want to film something involveing putting the same person on screen 3 times. 1 person playing 3 characters, all onscreen at the same time. I don't pretend that it will be great, or hell, even good, but it will be a good exersise for me to get back into the film frame of mind. I mean, for goodness sakes, i graduated from film school, and work there, you'd think i'd think about making movies more often. but i don't. damn lack of ambition. well, alright, that't it then. have a good night.

*bows gracefully*

Anita_Blake

9th April 2003, 02:00

a departure.....

Liz loved to watch people. She took the bus to work every day, and she loved to surreptitiously watch people. Wonder what they were thinking. Wonder where they were going. Who they were. What was their life like? Sometimes, she would envision their life story, not over simplifying it, but imagining the good times and bad times they might have had, what their reactions were to those times, how they reacted to situations. Some people the image came easily, for others it was more difficult.

Old people were her favorite. Their features were so worn in and deep-cut. Hidden by layers of age, years of life. She liked to wonder, what was that woman like when she was my age? Was she beautiful? Unpopular? Did she like music? Who was she?

Perhaps it was all just self-reflection. Liz liked the old women because she was curious about what she would be like when she was old. She was beautiful now, with large blue eyes, and high cheeks, full lips, but beauty, she knew, was a passing thing. One day, Liz would be an old woman, and she wondered what she would be like. How life would affect her.

She saw a woman get on the bus, and thought to herself, there is a woman who has lived a long life. SHe didn't look that old, not really, but she was wrinkled, her pale eyes sunken into her head, not unnaturally, simply with age. She looked as though she had seen a lot of happy days, as well as lived through a lot of pain. She had seen her babies grow old and have their own babies, watched her daughters make mistakes. And yet, though her back was slightly bent, her head was high. This woman had suffered through pain, but had never lost her dignity, her pride in herself. Her body had withered somewhat, but her core strength had never left her, and by now, it was probably safe to say, it never would. Her eyes were sharp and clear, seeking something, a seat perhaps. Old as she was, she probably wouldn't want to stand on the crowded bus.

But that wasn't right, exactly, because the bus wasn't particularly crowded, and the courtesy seats for senior citizens were available. But the woman's eyes (Liz briefly wondered what her eyes had looked like when she was a young woman, they looked so oddly familiar), her eyes were hunting still, examining, searching for....

The old woman's eyes stopped their ceaseless search when they landed on Liz. And suddenly, Liz knew why those eyes were so hauntingly familiar.

"Oh my god," she whispered, her heart suddenly racing, as the old woman approached her and Liz stood face to face with herself.

.....
potentially to be continued, but probably not. :)

Anita_Blake

10th April 2003, 22:20

another half-told story that goes ... you know.

i used to dream in black and white, you know. then i got a little older and less afraid. then my nightmares were in full-blownn technicolor. yipeee.

it's a funny sad thing when you are trying to shut down. tryign to close off. trying to stop ... just stop doing whatver it is that makes the hurt. stop feeling. stop living. stop something. tha'ts all. funny sad. sadly funny.

there might have been some form of substance to this once, but now it is gone. a true example of life if ever there was one. just when you think somethign is solid, that's when it blows through you like a ghost. nothing is real then. perhaps. something something something. thoughts are like clouds, ever shifting, ever changing shape and form and substance. the world is crazy.

Anita_Blake

11th April 2003, 03:00

this is a portrait of me. note the lack of interest. note the lack of hope. note, the lack of anything resembling life.

there is only so much a person can take before they shut down. there is only so much uncertainty that the human mind can handle before it reaches for the off switch. There is only so much heartbreak a person can deal with before they lock their hearts up forever and throw away the key. But then, some are just suckers for punishment, aren't they? We just let the pain keep coming, we don't shut down all the way, we want to, we try to, but in the end, the pain is the only thing that reminds us we are alive. The pain comes to be the thing we strive for. Happiness is out of the question. It's just a matter of how mcuh can you fool yourself into thinking that everything is wonderful until you realize that it's not, because it's that realization that hurts more than anythign else. the realization that nothing you did could have changed him. Nothing could make him need you. No matter how perfect you are, in the end, you'll never be what he needed. Happy? deliriously. wanted, needed, loved? don't answer that question. don't think about it. don't think about the purple elephant. it's impossible not to think about it, isn't it. impossible not to hear the answer that your mind tries to stifle.

this is a portrait of me. note the self-loathing. Note the mask of strength. Note the same patterns emerging, note the life long commitment to 'being myself' while trying so deparately to please others.

It's hard to be yourself when you have buried your self image in trying to not be selfish. Trying to make other people comfortable, happy, trying to make other people feel loved because you never did. Hopign against all hope that one day, someone would repay the favor. Hoping against all you believe to be true, that one day, someone will love you. It's hard to be strong for others when you just want to feel sorry for yourself. You can hold your head high, but in the end, it's a mask designed to let other people see what you want them to see. And if their first impression of you is that you are cold and hard, cruel even, then who is to say they are wrong? What they later learn of you? It's all a lie. You just want so desparately to be loved that you will be kind to everyone, anyone who needs it. You will give them what they need so that they will give you what you need. have you ever had a friend? Have you ever cared about someone more than yourself? yes, you have, haven't you? It's not hard to care more for someone else when you loathe yourself, is it? It's not hard to say what they need to hear, pat their back and tell them everything will be fine. It makes you feel like you're not so bad after all. But when every kindness is calculated, what are you?

This is a portrait of me. Note the lack of tears. Note the intense clarity of mind. Note the anger and rage hidden carefully below the surface, waiting for an appropriate time to come out and attack. Note the curious blend of predator and prey. Note the lack of humanity in those cold cold blue eyes.

he called her an ice queen once. she was shocked that he could say that, after so long. didn't he know her? in hindsight, maybe he knew her better than she knew herself. nothing about her was real, genuine, unplanned. Her every gesture was filled with the meaning she gave it and never explained, and while she praised herself for being so magnanimous, all the while, did he suffer? was that why he made her grow to hate him so? did she do that to him, or was he flawed all along? She'll never know, not now. It's too late now to go back and ask questions of a past that is best left dead and gone. The present presents another challenge. Does she want what she thinks she wants or does she simply want what she's always wanted, what she's always needed... to suffer more and continue to hope that someone notices her suffering?

this is a portrait of me. note that you can't see any of this. note the smiling happy face. Note the bright eyes and genuine smile. note that portraits lie. this is not me at all. it is a portrait of me.

Anita_Blake

11th April 2003, 18:14

drained. totally and completely drained. nothing left inside. hollow like a reed. like a straw to suck and suck and suck whatever will fit inside you, through one end and out the other. everything becomes transitory. Nothing permanent, nothing stable. what does this mean?

thoughts like a rushing river, try to hold on to it and it jsut sllips away, dashing to and fro, gradually wearing down the rocks underneath, eating away at the riverbed. that riverbed is your head. You should be careful not to think too much. It will kill you. slowly, gradually, eating away that the foundations of your life, the more you think about it, the further away it slips. The further away you slip.

darkness, then, is our only friend. keeps you safe, keeps you warm, keeps you tight inside it. that's what you always wanted, isn't it? to be warm and safe and tight inside something? Of course it is. it's what we all want. we all want to be pre-alive, womb-safe, womb-warm, womb-tight. go back to that happy place where there was no thought, just pure darkness and bliss. alive, but not. what happens there? do you hear your mother's indecision keep you alive? do you feel her fear at your sudden burst into existence? do you feel her love and overwhelming joy? her terror? her confusion? does that follow you your entire life, the not-thoughts of that warm and cavernous place? is that why you never felt loved, never felt like you fit in? was mommy afraid of you? well, maybe she should have been. maybe you are a monster after all. and you just never noticed. until now. Now, try to erase that thought. You can't. It's already started it's course of erosion, wearing away at all you previously understood to be true. Soon, you'll be a full-blown cynic.

Life is not mysterious. Not wondrous. Not anything. It's just what it is. So stop thinking about it and live.

Anita_Blake

12th April 2003, 01:09

of all the songs that have written in the world, how many have been lost and forgotten to the ages. how many of those forgotten songs could have changed the world? how many of the remembered songs have changed the world. these are things to ponder while playing the guitar late at night and wondering vaguley if you have ever written the same song as someone else, but never heard it, but the two of you are somehow connected by writing the same song on the opposite sides of the planet.

weird.

Anita_Blake

12th April 2003, 13:58

this is my twenties. and when i am old and grey, will i remember my twenties as a cultural wasteland, the time i spent a decade being drunk, daring to stay up all night and talk to people and be strange, the times when i was just discovering who i was, the time when everything was transitory and nothing seemed real.

every day, we get older. every day, we learn something new, we feel new feelings, we think new thoughts, and the only thing we need hold on to is this one idea: how are you shaping your life? what memories are you creating? what will you look back on and smile when your memories begin to fade, and deth creeps closer? did you have fun?

will i remember my twenties as the time that i discovered the toothpaste doesn't taste all that different from jagermeister after you vomit it all back up again? that time when i had a boyfriend who would hold my hair even though i didn't really need him to? the time when i ...

this is my twenties. it's one of the times of my life.

Anita_Blake

14th April 2003, 22:43

oh, there is nothing quite like being eviscerated. There is nothing like the feeling of your insides being torn out, watching your life dwindle into something unrecognizable, and finally, look at it from a distance coldly and wonder why you ever cared so much about something so small.

They say every death is simply a new birth, but if that's the case, why is it so painful? Why do the tears come unbidden, watch them as they fall, hear them as they hit your clothes, think briefly about how now people will see that you've been crying, tell yourself that you are strong, that this doesn't matter. And the funny thing is, no matter how long it's been coming, no matter how long you've been waiting for those words, they still feel like a punch in the gut. Is this air i'm breathing, or is it my lungs collapsing on themselves. It's kind of hard to tell.

There is nothing quite like a long goodbye, nothing like knowing it's coming, and then finding out when, and then waiting, waiting, fucking waiting for the lonliness to return, waiting for it to be ok to cry alone, waiting for the day when he says goodbye and looks back one last time, and then what? Never again to see his face? Maybe? Would it hurt less if you knew for sure? Yes, yes, the future would be so much less painful if there was a single ounce of certainty to it. Can the future please hurt less than right now? Because this is just too much to bear. This is just...

Life is not fair, and don't ever fucking quote me as saying otherwise. I never said it was going to be fun, and i never said it was going to be easy, and i never said it woudln't hurt from time to time, hurt maybe more than you think you can bear. No. I never said that. I never thought that. Hoped, maybe, and now you can see why hope is the enemy of life, why hope is so much more hurtful and destructive than despair. At least with despair, there's no place to go but up. Hope, though, hope is a bitch. Hope will fuck you every time. Sure, it might feel good at the time, but hope is an addictive drug. Oh, it feels so good, doesn't it, you like the way it feels to have hope, until the next day when suddenly the hope is gone and you are left feeling hollow and emptier than you ever believed was possible. Yeah, hope is not your friend, no matter how beautiful and radiant it seems. Hope will tie you up and anally rape you, and leave you in a ditch for dead. You'd best remember that the next time you find yourself in a situation that seems like it could turn out really good. Because it might, for a while, but in the end, everything dies. Watch it, watch it, as it withers and dies, as it takes you with it. And see how helpless you are to stop it? You never had any power to control anything, never.

There's a scream of frustration and rage and sorrow and helplessness that can't quite make it out of my lips. My throat doesn't want to let it out. It woudl be so nice if this pain would just go away tomorrow, but it won't, no, no, that would be too easy. And he just holds me, too afraid to feel whatever it is that he's feeling, too afraid to give me release by letting me know how much he hurts. He smiles so sweetly, denying all the while that he loves me, but i see it, i feel it, just as i feel that he is not as glib as he acts. what does his stubbornness achieve, other than my tears, other than my pain, other than my seep and overwhelming sorrow? This is not his story, so i can't tell. But i do know this:

god, it hurts.

Anita_Blake

15th April 2003, 00:14

ah, nothing like a little self indulgent wallowing in misery. i apologize. but i'm not sorry. Usually, with canadians, it's the other way around, we're sorry more often every day than we can count, but we rarely apologize. It's not my fault, it's my upbringing. Politeness is not hereditary, it's somethign they put in the water. Did i ever tell you about my mother's theory that Revlon puts somehting in the wter to genetically alter boys so that they have long beautiful eyelashes, and girls don't, so that women will buy more mascara. She tells me this with total seriousness, and i'm only now beginning to wonder if she was joking. If she's not joking, she's either on to something, or else completely insane and an example of what i have to look forward to in another 20 years. I think i hope she's joking. Less scary that way.

It's funny, but the manner in which i write can make it appear that i am writing a complete and total fiction, when in fact, every word i say is the gospel truth. Well, exept that, of course. Very little that i write is the truth. And some of it is outright lies. But this, what is this? A clever concotion of fiction, or in all seriousness a very personal and complete diary? Maybe a little of both.

I sometimes have the feelign that the music is burrowing itself inside my body. Not in a weird, drugged-up freak-out kind of way, not like "ahhh! cockroaches under my skin!! get it offf! *introduce razor to arm now*", no, that would jsut be creepy. But in a sonic wave kind of way, entering in through my ears and then travellign to different parts of my body. For instance, some notes stimulate the skin of my chest, like it's pulling at the skin inside me, pushing it's way out from the breastbone. Other notes tingle my thighs, others yet spine, my heart, my gut, my neck, my head, my eyes. Different sounds affect different parts of my body, this is what i'm saying. Sometimes, i just can't keep my eyes open, i have to close them to absorb the music, sometimes the music pushes my eyes open to see all that it touches. It tints the world another colour, makes me look around and see the connection between all the things in my site and between my own life. The sounds can turn my eyes in or out, to see the world around me or to see my own past, present, and future. Sometimes, the music is so beautiful, i can't breathe.

Now, of course i say that, and someone else is going to think "oh, she likes beautiful music," and invent some genre that they think is 'beautiful' thinking i meant tinkly harps and mellow earth music. No, that's not what i mean at all. I mean the dirty music, the hard music, the sharp music, the loud music. Music with grungy, thick, heavy guitars, deep drums, distorted bass, and the voices of men with greasy hair and facial hair. Music that people don't really dance to, but kind of move to. Music that people mosh to. Music that other people fight to. this is what i live to. It makes me feel light and free and alive, the heavier the music, the deeper it drags me into myself, the deeper it drags me into feeling alive, into feeling. Some people don't understand, they say 'this music makes my heart race' or 'it makes me nervous/ansty/agressive', they obviously don't feel what i feel, they obviously are not anything like me. What makes thier heart race makes me feel contemplative and safe. The more dangerous the music, the safer i feel. Does that make sense? Yes, i guess it really does.

this is not the end. no, not by far.