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What I don’t remember writing.
It’s happening again. The same thing. Stripped of your crutches, the monster emerges again. Before. Before. Before. It’s all you can think about. The lack of composure. The lost dignity. The agitation that drives your mind, forces your legs to move ceaselessly, sucks the tears out of your eyes and drags them down your face. You swore you’d never be back here again. Out of control like a train off its tracks. Capable of anything. Of screaming. Wailing. Cutting. Moaning. Stabbing. Running with no return. Trapped. Tearful. Terrified. Lost in the midst of a self that is not yours.
Your real self, the one which you had regained, has suddenly vanished. The personhood that you built slowly, painstakingly, through the sheer effort of getting out of bed in the morning. Through the ceaseless act of putting on self, daily and with constraint, like she revealed to you one day that it would always be. But under duress you succeeded to reclaim the life that was lost. You spent weeks in the arms of another, of others. Months immersed in the world that had become sharp and clear and distinct once more. You bathed in a haze of books and chatter and thought and laughter. You had won, turning your face to the sunlight that had chosen to bless you and follow your movements. To cast only shadows of the monsters that had once ravaged you. Ravaged you. And yet now, only months later, this self has fallen.
Once again, the ending was simultaneously prolonged and brief, similar to the fate of a Jenga tower. You noticed some dark spaces amidst the fullness of the days. A shadow shot right through your centre, and your breath became halted. The tower swayed. And all at once the monster emerged again. Yes. One moment you stood at the precipice, the next you tipped. The monster opened its jaws. You tumbled through the dark. And when you landed, you were once again left with nothing.
It’s the same in other ways too. A different place, yet the same people. They could be from anywhere, they could be anyone. Yet they are familiar. The same. They are the ones that pull you in, that you hope to find comfort with. A small relief to console and be consoled, to take the sufferings of others and discard your own. A temporary measure. But in the end only another form of destruction. For they are not yours, nor are you theirs. They are caricatures, people who will fade into shadows as soon as you leave this place. You will be nothing to them. They, nothing to you but a wasted memory tainted by the glasses assigned to your eyes at the time. But for now they become you, their mannerisms, their voices, their personalities melt into your own. Your struggles become theirs, and theirs yours. You can hardly be sure where you end and they begin. Confined, slapped together in the underbelly of society, you can do nothing if not mingle with its great unwashed.
You knew this last time; the danger enclosed in their shy smiles or comforting arms. The danger of affection – of giving away a part of yourself to others who would only ask for more. You watch the procession helplessly; tender morsels of yourself given timidly until you are swallowed whole. And yet you cannot blame them. There is hardly one whole body between you. Your offerings, however small, help to construct the whole that you all dream of owning. And so you sit, bodily present, mind lost to another world. You hear the words spoken over you.
Sanity in question.
Situation perilous.
Destination unknown.
And yet a shred of yourself remains. Ribbon thin, frayed, hidden in the mess of wires and sockets. It runs like a spinal cord amidst veins and arteries dyed with artificial colours and flavours. It is swayed, bent, but never broken. It is the voice that speaks with clarity amongst the others, those that try to convince you that you are broken. They; the liars, the cheats. This voice is quieter. It does not shout. It speaks truth. It tells a story that has been lost, that exists only in fables of the aural tradition; voices that have been drowned by the west, by its perilous quest to play God. Because between the red pill and the blue there was once another. It was neutral – its value lost to the world of medicine, its décor demure and as such underrated. It didn’t hand out free mugs and staplers with its presentation, nor holidays to the orient for its champions. That pill was once known as normality – under duress of course, for all who seek struggle to find. Normality. It is found in the thread of the real, the pill that will center and make true an illegitimate existence. But in this place, they shun normality. For here all are already lost to a darker fate. Instead we are served a regulated, shared meal from which we can all partake. Normality has vanished. Here they replace it with a cheaper brand. Uniqueness. Doesn’t have the quite the same flavour to it. But the starving will eat anything.
But what of the others? The ones who exist beyond the borders of the shadowlands, those who live beside but apart from me, who I know I will find again, be it in months or years. Their charmed lives have become my benchmark. They, the only reminders of my ribbon thin existence beyond the deep. My friends, my family, the fleshed embodiments of life, the products of the normality pill that sits beyond the locked door. Yes, the ones who live above the surface, who walk the sunny streets with familiarity, with a lazy for granted-ness I can now only dream of. They live unabashed, unconcerned, tossed by waves in a teacup, never knowing of the storm that lies beyond. They are the frying pan to my fire, the molehill to my mountain. They exist in my perpetual Narnia – far beyond the confines of the wardrobe. It is a place I dream of, where the lion lives and the witch is vanquished, never to return.
Ok. I have a feeling this is going to be a very long post.
Have been debating whether or not to lower this blog to the level of a journal in which I thrash out my inner moral and existential conflicts/ ruminations for the internet world to see. Apart from a few posts such as ‘and she shall be called woman’ and ‘white fear’ I’ve steered clear of this for several reasons.
1. I know that people (friends, family, acquaintances) read this blog from time to time, and I would never want to hurt or offend them by disrespecting their beliefs. But I think that there is a difference between objecting to something, contesting a point of view, and being disrespectful to a person, and I think most people know this. So, I’m going to put that worry aside….
The next two reasons, I acknowledge, are inherently narcissistic ones:
2. These kind of questions are for me the most important questions in my life – discussing them for everyone to see is kind of like bearing my soul. This is what I am pre-occupied with most of the time. This is the ‘inner me’. Also I feel completely inadequate trying to talk about ‘big grown up things’ like philosophy and religion. Sure I’m fascinated by them, but it’s not like I have anything new to say…
3. Writing is my ‘thing’. Or what I consider to be my ‘thing’. It is difficult not to let my entire self-worth depend on whether both I myself and other people perceive me to be a good writer. I know this is going to sound incredibly melodramatic, but writing becomes almost a terrifying prospect for me sometimes. If I fail at writing, I fail full stop. I feel as though I have worthwhile things to express in words – on paper. My greatest fear is that I won’t be able to ‘get them out’. It becomes almost an exhausting prospect, then, because when trying to express myself, I’m using the very medium in which my entire self-worth seems inextricably embedded in – written words. Consequently, I’m hyper-conscious when writing that whatever comes out on the page when I’m putting 100% into it, is (at least as I perceive it) the sum of myself. That knowledge, and the knowledge that someone else, someone reading my writing, could be doing it better, could be more articulate, more eloquent… well it’s almost paralyzing.
I guess the connection between 2 and 3 is obvious. Using the medium my self-worth is ingrained in to try and convey the things most dear and important to me – things I’m still figuring out, things I don’t know enough of yet to even form an opinion on – seems like the hardest thing in the world. Why? Because my pride and self-esteem are both at stake. I’m putting the extent of my skills and knowledge out there while knowing that they are insufficient.
The biggest temptation for me is to procrastinate, or even refrain from writing until I ‘know more’. In my head, there is some kind of obscure level of understanding or general knowledge I need to reach before I can legitimately attempt to write about ‘the big stuff’. But I was talking a couple of months back about this with Alice and she said something like ‘when will anyone ever be done learning?’ So I think I need to relinquish my pride on this one.
I just finished reading The Catcher in the Rye today (which was on my JANUARY summer reading list). Even though it’s soppy I’m putting in a quote that comforted me when I read it.
“You’ll find that you’re not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and sickened by human behaviour…. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You’ll learn from them – if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer , someone will learn something from you.”
This kind of prompted me to reconsider my reservations about expressing my thoughts. Sure, I’m not a theologian or a scientist or a philosopher or even a phD student. If any one of the above took me to task I’m pretty sure they’d annihilate me. But that’s not the point, is it? I have no delusions that my writing is pure poetry or that any of my ideas are original or that I comprehend the obscure thoughts of philosophical genuis’ . But I want to learn, to improve, to understand, so there’s no reason for me to be ‘ashamed’ of where I’m at now. And if people read this and think “god, that person’s stupid, they have no idea what the fuck they’re on about” well, they’re probably right! But I’m choosing not to care (or at least to try to not care 
) Because I don’t think I’m going to find the answers I’m looking for if I avoid questioning and formulating and expressing my thoughts. I think actually that for me, that’s exactly the way in which I might find a way to make sense of things. (That and alot of reading, of course…)
Just a few short days ago, life was hectic. I had too much work, too many assignments and not enough time. Now, looking four months of study-free existance in the face, time seems endless, empty and unexciting.
Yesterday, I went to Sticky – an independent publishing shop that sells various Zines, Graphic Novels, and other self-published goodies. Despite my aspiration to be published, I hardly knew what a Zine was until a few weeks ago reading about the ‘Riot Grrrl’ Zine fad of the 80s and 90s – a feminist forum for mostly white-middle-class American punk and alternatives attempting to be heard. Zines rose in popularity immensely in the 80s due to the availability of photocopiers and the convenience of mass-production … they were cut-and-paste style brochures, handwritten, often with poor graphics or personal cartoons. At Sticky, there is still alot of Zine’s looking just like that. Others are a bit more advanced, pretty colours, sophisticated designs, glossy paper, evidence of the 21st century and the existance of photoshop. I bought one zine entitled Murder Can Be Fun, an anthology of zine work called Doris, and another self published book of random stories. It got me thinking about making my own zine, after all, it seems like the simplest way to get your name out in the field of writing and publishing. But exactly how I will slant my zine I don’t know. I have alot of pretty photos I used in my ‘vintage photoshoots’, alot of short stories and articles I’ve written for Uni… but how it will all fit together I’m not too sure. Also, does printing your work in a Zine mean that actual publishers or magazine’s won’t publish it because it’s already been distributed? I don’t want to waste my best work in a crappy pamphlet if there’s a chance an actual publication would print it.
While contemplating the relatively empty summer that lies ahead of me, I decided that it was the perfect opportunity to write as much as I could and see if I’m really serious about it. My growing concern that for a 2nd year creative writing major I have done pretty much crap all in terms of actually getting my writing out there is starting to buid into a panic. So really, I now have the time to really research the industry, practise my ‘craft’ and try to get something published! It’s kind of scary though, as with anything, because of the fear of failure. But it’s a risk you have to take to get anywhere, so… no excuses. This Blog is the perfect place to write my ass off, and I’m going to do it.
Today I designed a potential zine cover – with the same title as this blog. I’m going to keep working on the potential zine as well as other stuff. I need to buy some more of the magazine’s I’d be considering submitting to: Voiceworks, The Big Issue, Frankie…. and I need to find out about a truckload more like them (if they exist!). Maybe volunteering for a local newspaper wouldn’t go down too badly either. Lot’s to think about. I’ll keep you informed!
i am now a double blogger and bulletin poster on myspace. there are just too many forms of electronic publication in this world.
(((I just lost something that I spent like 2 hours writing.
Part of me wants to scream!!!!
But its important so screw it, I’m going to re-write it.
It went something like this: (AHEM)))))
Why is it that it’s so much easier to remember the times when people let you down, when friends weren’t real friends, than it is to remember and appreciate the good things people have done for you? Why is it so much easier to dwell on bad relationships than good ones, so much easier to think about people’s negative qualities than their positive ones?
I realize this has been my attitude. In my last ’poor me’ blog all I could do was lament the people I’m losing or have lost, and haven’t taken the time to think about all the people that are in my life. So I’m going to write as much as I can about all the good people in my life and why they are good. Even the ones that have let me down lately. Nobody’s perfect.
Bec: Is my oldest consistent friend. Months can go by, as they have in years gone by, when we’ve hardly seen each other, but nothing changes. We can always pick up where we left off. We never fight; if we’re pissed off we just get over it. Bec is always generous, always loyal, she is one of the least bitchy people I know, and lately has been so much fun spending time together. I can say anything I want and Bec won’t bat an eyelid.
Katie: I haven’t known as long but in the time I have, Katie has enriched my life to no end. She’s always up for fun, lets my try on her hot clothes. Katie is generous and gave me the most beautiful birthday present. She is always happy to listen, and not just listen but actually involve herself with what you’re saying and have a really good discussion with. And makes me laugh hysterically. And she wrote me a song!!!
Bek: I am so lucky to get to work with someone who is also one of my best friends. Bek is a strong person, I have really benefited from my talks with her, and she is always happy to hang out, and fun to spend time with. She spent hours helping me set up for my party, and if I need someone to tell me the truth with no beating around the bush, Bek will do it!
Orsh: An incredibly talented person, some one you can have a serious conversation with as well as talk crap with. Orsh is adorable, but speaks her mind, something I can learn from! Eg. The other day when I was moaning about everyone in my life leaving me her reply was ’I’m still fuckin here dude!’ That’s why I love her!
Bert: Where do I begin, my little sex kitten? Bron is always evolving, she has a million different sides and most of them are fantastic. She’s the only person who would quote Gilmore girls endlessly with me, who can be act like such a dork and look so hot doing it. Most of the time we are the best of friends and I love her to bits!
Marita: The fun loving adventurer. The time we spent in Byron bay is one I’ll never forget, we tried everything either of us wanted to try, and she is one of the most caring and genuine people you’ll ever meet. Even though YITS is stealing her away, I can always pick up the phone and find her the same, unchanged, kind and lovely person!
Blair: Blair is some one I’m constantly in awe of. If only I have a little bit of Blair in me, I’ll be happy. She is the most talented artist and had the best taste in books, music and movies and I’m lucky enough to get to share those. She is someone that leaves a little bit of herself wherever she goes, and the place is better because of it. I admire the way that she thinks about things, the way she has grown over the years into her own person, into someone that I am so jealous of but so proud of!
Emily: I can recall only one phrase to encapsulate Emily: ’the sunshiny smile’. Em is always a little breath of fresh air, with her own unique twist. She will have me in hysterics with her antics and is the one person to go opshopping with! Em is good for a chat about the mundane-ness of uni, and she gives the best presents too!
Chris: My bro. It is rare to find a guy that is as strong in himself as Chris. I wish I was more like him; he is steadfast in character and respected by everyone that knows him. Chris is going to go far in life; he is likable, honest and dependable. I’m lucky to have him as a brother, even though he is younger than me I find myself looking up to him in so many ways!
Doug: Doug is just plain good fun. An awesome guy to talk to and hang out with. From the moment I met Doug I knew he was a good guy, trustworthy and easy to get along with. Doug is the person to go clubbing with, people!
Hannah: Technically my oldest friend; we’ve known each other since we were born. Han and I have had a lot of ups and downs but the fact that we’re still friend’s means a lot to me. Han is surprising and fun, and her thoughtfulness is always appreciated. She’s the one who will send me a text message to make sure I’m ok when nobody else would. Oh and now she’s a hot model, what more would you want?
Dylan: Someone who is literally always there if you need them. Another friend I’ve had for a long time and know that even if we don’t talk for a while we can pick up where we left off. Dylan genuinely cares about his friends, and that is rare to find. I really value his friendship.
James: When I met James I couldn’t believe how polite he was! He has all the qualities of a gentle man, but the most important thing is the way that he always listens to you when you’re talking, like he really cares about what your saying. I can tell James is going to be a great person to have as a friend and someone I’m going to benefit a lot from.
Tom: A person I can’t quite believe I’ve been fortunate enough to meet, and it seems, inevitably I’m going to lose. In the short time I’ve known him I think we have had a connection that is rare to find, that extends beyond our shared taste in music and books. There is so much more I want to talk about, to learn about Tom, so he is somewhat of an enigma, but a very nice one at that!
Ana: something inexplicable draws me to Ana, and I think it’s the fact that she is so her own person. Another girl that I envy, because she doesn’t have any bullshit, and is genuine and enthusiastic, I’d like to get to hang out with her more.
Jodi: Is like a butterfly. Always fleeting, colorful, enticing. Jodi and I have shared a lot over the past two years. I will never forget her coming to my rescue in her pajamas when I needed someone most, being my refuge during one of the darkest times of my life. Jodi is an incredibly colorful character and I’d like to have more of that in myself.
Steph: Honestly the sweetest person you’ll ever meet. I think if I told Steph I’d murdered someone she’d find a way to make me feel better about it! Just the other day Steph left me a b’day present at work, and that is the kind of thing Steph does. When she left Williams she gave us going-away presents. But she is honest and down to earth and I love that too.
Nat: I owe so much to Nat. I may have driven her crazy but I don’t think I could have got through a couple of rough patches without her. She is hilarious, blasé.., and the most unconventional person I’ve ever met. I love talking with her, and I love her take on life, I wish I could pull it off myself!
KT: Has left creative arts for the world of YITS, and who could blame her? But how would I have got thru first year without Katie? She is the most crazy, lively, fun person, and I so appreciate having her around, I love her chilled attitude to everything and the way she is completely herself in any situation! Katie is a metaphor for life J
Zac: Another person I couldn’t have got thru first year without. Zac and I have spent a lot of time on the same level with stuff and I’ve appreciated talking to her and having her around. I think she has a lot to offer, and she will do something really effective with her life. I’m looking forward to her return to uni next semester!!
Tim: I haven’t treated Tim the best and yet he has been willing to forgive that. I admire so much about him; his strong character, his energy and perseverance are just some of those. Being able to talk about so many diverse topics is always interesting with Tim. Turtles, Ancient roman ruins? It’s never dull!
Annie: where would I be without my lovely older sister? I can tell Annie anything and she will withhold judgment whilst still speaking her mind. She listens and yet challenged my ideas. I think that’s a rare gift! Annie always makes me feel cared about, its always fun to hang out together. And I know I can always rely on her in a family crisis, as she has so clearly proved this week!
Well, I think I have to stop there because I’ll be here all day. But it just goes to show who I have to be grateful for, all the great friends in my life, or for some of them, the beautiful things they have done for me in the past.
Much love to you all!
I have at last given in to yet another internet fad. The blog. One i tried so very hard to resist, until at long last the time-wasting devil on my left shoulder achieved victory over the use-your-time-wisely angel on my right.
Reasons not to get a blog, said right shoulder occupant:
1. You already have myspace
2. You already have facebook
3. You already have internet banking, ebay and an hotmail account
4. You already have a university ‘student portal’ and ‘Electronic Blackboard’
5. You are a hopeless procrastinator
Yet with all the knowledge graciously bestowed on me by this wise benefactor, I somehow succumbed to temptation and thus find myself now, on a Friday night I blew off going to Chapel street for study purposes, creating this; ‘Blacking out the fiction’ (for those unelightened of you, it’s my clever play on ‘Blacking out the friction’ by Deathcab for Cutie’. Anyhoo.. I am claiming, like Eve, that the devil made me do it. I think if I had met the serpent head on over this little temptation the conversation would have gone something like this:
Serpent: Lovely day for a blogssssspot, isssn’t it?
Me: I suppose, but I really should be reading David Copperfield plus 2 weeks and four readers worth of uni reading.
Serpent: Do you reeeeally need to read alll that reading? Didn’t the lecturer only make reference to it onssssce in the entire last classsss?
Me: Yeah, I know. That’s what’s so annoying about creative arts!!!
Serpent: Creative artssss! Don’t you want to be a writer? Well, you know what would give you a chance to really expand your skills? … (wait for it) … A BLOG!!!
Me: I guess, but I’d probably waste alot of time on it when I should be studying. My creative writing tutor said the computer is the biggest time waster of all…
Serpent: The creative writing tutors don’t want you to keep a blog, because they know if you do you’ll become a much better writer….
….. And I’m bored now, but so and so forth.
My self-justifying rant now finished, I think I will review my first post and try and find something to eat that doesn’t involve heat.
The forecast is 30,36,36,36,36,30,23. NOT COOL.
I now, like Eve, with you the reader as my proverbial Adam, urge you to partake of this sinful waste-of-time with me.
But don’t blame me when your failing at the end of semester because you’re hooked on my facinating blog!!!!
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