September 22, 2008
Goddamn. Random emotional turmoil is for teenagers. It would be so much easier to be emotionally dead. I’ve been thrown off since an emotional sex session when I looked into his eyes as he was coming but when it was my turn he shut his eyes and I couldn’t speak. I’ve been exposed and vulnerable since. I find myself trying to take responsibility for every bad thing that happens to him, pretending to myself that it was in my power to have prevented it and feeling bad for not doing.
Totally irrational. Completely unfounded. Really friggin irritating. I’m trying not to let it bring me down.
Aside from this I’ve had a good weekend with friends. We went to the awesome Cafe Soya and did meditations together. My spirit animal is a ladybird and it took me to stand in a blue fire. I have a guide that’s really tiny and easy to lose track of: what does that say about me? I also found it by falling flat out into some brambles (in the meditation). I think this symbolises how difficult I perceive it to be to get useful things out of my head. I make things hard for myself.
Also really friggin irritating.
I might start a page to make a list of bisexual icons. The biggest regret of my life was caused by not knowing that sexuality wasn’t a binary, and that liking boys didn’t have to get in the way of kissing a really amazing girl who was probably the first person I ever loved and who I probably really hurt with my unfounded rejection.
My other regret (anything else has apparently been forgotten or healed by time) was caused by alcohol. I offered to lend the same book to two people – poaching from the first person to give to the second who then disappeared with it forever. It was a couple of years ago but it still bothers me. I’m going to redress it by buying a new copy and giving it to the person I should have left it with in the first place.
July 31, 2008
To get back to the positive and the personal, a short interlude about things that I love this week.
I love… the latest book I picked up: The Garden Party and Other Stories by Katherine Mansfield. After my Phantom book fail this is going very well. I love the way she captures the inner workings of people’s minds and how mood and opinion flickers with every little event. I forget that her stories are almost a hundred years old – I suppose the way people feel doesn’t change nearly as much as the way people write about their feelings.
I love… the toner I got from Lush. I can’t remember what it’s called, something Roma, and it’s based on rosewater with a little tea tree oil. Frankly I love most things from Lush, and I am amazed that my hair stays clean for two days with the Karma bar (oh the shameless plugs, these people should pay me). I am now free of the once ever-present threat of grease.
I love… making things. Sewing is going well and the addition of a box to tidy all my crap into has brought favour from the House Folks. I’ve also been working on a story under the place holder title: Electric Dude Interlude. So far I’m pleased with the fragments I’ve produced.
I love… coffee, though no matter how hard I believe it doesn’t cancel out a bad night’s sleep.
July 2, 2008
I feel like the shadow of death is hanging over me at the moment, and it doesn’t help that the sky is thickly overcast. Yesterday I didn’t post because I was too busy having a massive freak-out after my partner told me he’d been quite badly electrocuted by the toaster. I was consumed by the possibility of his death for the rest of the day and as soon as I got home I hugged him and started to cry. This probably confused him quite a lot as it was 6 hours after the incident and he was quite chirpy by then, playing games and enjoying caffeine. It was like the moment when you realise your own mortality. I’d had mine at around the age of six when my great-grandma died and I realised that I wasn’t going to last forever. I was probably too young to include in that the idea that all the people I dearly love will die also. Losing my parents will of course be devastating when it happens but losing my partner or very close friends will hurt in a different way because I’m not done with them yet. There are still things I need them for, things I will want to share with them and things I can share only with them. Each of these people means something different to me and there are things that I share with each of them that the others wouldn’t understand.
An assured death, definitely sheduled to occur shortly, is that of my childhood cat. There were two of them but the first died two years ago of tongue cancer – apparently common in cats. Now the fat old mog has grown frail, her kidneys are lumpy, her heart murmury and her appetite lacking. I don’t think there will be time to go home and say goodbye.
Finally I fear for my grandmother. She is 80 today, and next week she is going to have surgery to remove a tumour from her bowel. I hope this will make her better – she has been getting weaker for the last year and it could be the tumour growth was sapping her strength. Or she could just be old. My brain has created a story around the situation: that my mother will sacrifice her beloved cat in order to save her mother. Will this satisfy death? In time I will know.