Reckless

I can always tell when I'm feeling a bit suicidal because I get these urges to be incredibly reckless while driving.

Clarity

Dear Self,

It's amazing what a good cry can do. Thanks.

School's in session

Untitled - 8/18/2008

Come stop your crying;
what reason is there
to keep on sighing
that life isn't fair?

Just dry your eyes now
and raise your head high;
there's always tomorrow
to learn how to fly.

Years

When I was six
I knew I'd save
the world and be
a hero brave;

And at age nine
I found a group
to play and laugh
and shout and whoop;

Then I turned twelve
and desperately sought
to flee far into space,
alone with my thoughts;

But then fifteen came
and no one understood
this pain that I felt,
but I did what I should;

So at eighteen I fell
hopelessly obsessed--
busy though I was--
driven by love to madness;

At twenty-one I picked up
the pieces that remained,
tried fitting them together
(perhaps gluing them in vain);

Twenty-four and lost:
that's who I am today.
What will i be tomorrow?
I guess I'll find my way.

take me away

take me away
to bluer skies
where i can dance
freely outside

take me away
to warmer climes
where i can soak
up rays of time

take me away
to joyful days
where i can laugh
in so many ways

take me away
to a place i know
where i can think
deep thoughts and grow

take me away from here

Dream a little dream

This I dreamed the other night:

I was standing at one end of a gymnasium. Many grown-up children were playing on the smooth, gleaming floor. I was not there to play. I was on a mission. A man-child stood in front of me with a volleyball by his feet. He kicked it swiftly towards the other end of the gym, and I raced after it. My goal: to reach the ball before it crossed the goal line at the end of the gym, reverse its direction, and kick it past the man-child's own goal line. The ball came to a stop at the foot of a large girl standing with her two friends in the middle of the gym. I slowed down. She glanced at me then gave her friends a small smirk. As I approached her, she gave the ball a light push with her toe. It moved away from me. I blinked. She followed the ball, serenely. I tried to reach the ball, but she was in my way. Every time I got close, she gave the ball another push. As we neared the back wall of the gym, my desperation increased, and I hastened my pace-- but she was quicker, and she gave the ball a final strong kick as it neared the goal line, then she planted herself firmly in my way so that I wasted precious seconds swerving around her. It was too late. The ball crossed the line, and it was over. I whirled around, fire and ice coursing through my veins. I must have yelled or screamed or hurled at her an epithet for her lips, formerly sporting an amused smirk, twisted into a predatory grin. She took a slow, measured step towards me, then another, and another. I stayed put although I yearned to leap at her, throttle her, maim her. She halted mere inches from my face. I was wrong; she wasn't twice my size, although her bulging biceps were all I could glare at due to her proximity. She did not speak and neither did I. Then she took a step back, grasped my hand, and smiled as she broke my thumb. I burst into tears.

My eyes snapped open. I was breathing hard. I was shocked. I was horrified. I was humiliated. Above all, I was furious. Oh sure, I was angry at Her. But mostly, I was angry at myself for crying when all I wanted to do was rip her throat out. I don't really know why I have this tendency to tear up whenever I'm feeling a strong emotion that actually translates into "I'd like to smash your head like a pumpkin". It probably has something to do with hormones; if I didn't let out all that rage immediately, I might just follow through with my thoughts. It's too bad that I can't release my anger in the form of some scathing retort and walk away, although sometimes, it's the knife-edged words I'm holding back that cause me to bawl my eyes out. Oh well. And I can't walk away because of that damn pride thing. Such sticky situations; is it truly better to walk away and live to fight another day? Rationally, yes. But the mind can have a heckuva hard time convincing the heart.

Anyway, I think that's quite possibly the most disturbing dream I've ever had; it even beats out the one where I was a Viking princess and Daddy invaded New York, but when we returned home over snow-covered hills, a velociraptor bit off my arm.

Happy Birthday

Days go by, still I remain
Hopelessly lost, endlessly drained.
I'd be a wanderer if I just knew
Which direction to start in; I haven't a clue.

Yet something tells me that deep within
Lies surety, conviction, passion even.
I need only find the right lock for my key
So that gateways will open to envelop me.

Too many questions, no answers in sight;
How shall I know if my choices are right?
Do I take the safe and well-worn road?
Can I really place my instincts on hold?

On this day, I wish to act, somehow
(seems appropriate, a turning point, now)
Still. Something in me releases a scream
And wants to know why I've let go of a dream.

Malaise

As I lay here, adrift, alone,
Idly staring into the night,
Afflicted by a malaise unknown,
I don't quite know what to write.

Should I speak of a sunrise bright
Breaking free from clouds of gray?
Or of cheerful chirping by waking birds,
Preparing themselves to start a new day?

But that would require effort, exertion,
Mental energy I've lacked for some time;
My lies have eroded until all that remain
Are glib diversions that follow this rhyme.

No, I'd rather that sleep whisk me away,
Let me figure out things in peace.
Let me be comforted, though in dreams;
Let me believe that wonders never cease.

Where do we go from here?

There has been an uneasy truce going on for a while, and it feels as though I'm just waiting for a catalyst. I have noticed that everything has felt dimmer and sharper at the same time. I'm not sure what this means; I'm not getting a bad feeling about it, which worries me a little.

On a more concrete note: I watched the PBS documentary "Depression: Out of the Shadows" (http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/takeonestep/depression/about.html) on Wednesday and thought that it was beautifully done. I highly recommend it to anyone who wants to understand more about depression. I'll try to post a more comprehensive review later, perhaps by updating this post.

I'm currently working on a poem/song. (I say poem/song because in my head, it's set to a tune.) I like it.

Back to falsity.

Dreamer

Some days I wake and close my eyes
And pause to breathe in the surprise
Of sunlight streaming on my face--
A warm caress that leaves no trace.

And in that instance of silence still,
There is no fear, no dark, no chill,
As I recall my dream (so dear)
Of love, of hope, of endless cheer.

And I can smell your sweet perfume,
As though it lingered in the room
To keep me company, hold me warm;
In your absence, keep me from harm.

And I can hear your laughter ring--
Peals of joy I imagine angels sing.
It fills my heart, that your smile
Was caused by me, for a while.

And I can see, your eyes, they glow,
They sparkle with passion and bestow
Upon me a Look that takes my breath,
And makes me die a little death.

And I remember all the moments spent
Together at home, at parties, events.
We had fun. We enjoyed every day,
Every moment and in every way.

And that's what made it so amazing:
That maybe, just maybe, I was deserving
Of an every day love given free
By someone so special-- anyone, really.

Then some sound jars my senses
And all around up go my defenses;
It was just a dream, reality knocks:
Things to do, reminds the tick of the clock.

So the illusion fades and life remains
Tedious, dull, indifferent, inane,
But even though the dream's now out of sight,
It was with me once, once upon a night.

Two poems in an hour

Absurd, irrational anger knows no face
At which to scream, to hurl, to disgrace;
And in the waking of abrupt alarm,
This rage grows, unfettered, to harm.

But soft! This savage beast needs to be tamed
To avert destruction of innocuous objects unnamed
And return to a state of still waters, tranquil,
In appearance at least (there's not near enough goodwill).

Back to its cage, this emotion is repressed.
The snarls are quieted from this unwanted guest
And all that remains is an emptiness within:
A drained husk flashing a false grin.

---

The seconds tick by, and you think I don't know
That green is grass and white is snow?
That every minute gone can't be replaced?
That time is a treasure and waste a disgrace?

Why must you make it harder than it already is?
I know my faults well; shall I enumerate a list?
This isn't a problem that can be solved by reason;
I've tried that (to my never-ending frustration).

The guilt eats at me every day,
Every moment, in every way.
Self-pity? A bit, but not enough to rate;
It's the self-hatred that suffocates.

Alas, poor Yorick!

You are deemed guilty of letting
Truth to be stretched like a season
Of soaps, as though the world turns
Around you. Must life have reason?
There is no rhythm to neither
Your deceit nor your cowardly tears.
And yet, is it a lie? Or perhaps
It's the truth hidden beneath fear.
For your words are threadbare and
Tolerance wanes and there is nothing
To give voice, to breathe out a cry
For... something. Anything.

Nausea

I feel ill. And possibly suicidal. But hey, Bono says:

And if the night runs over
And if the day won't last
And if your way should falter
Along this stony pass

It's just a moment
This time will pass.

-- U2, "Stuck In A Moment You Can't Get Out Of"

Hiding

Something my mother said brought me another step closer to understanding why I fell apart then. Why I'm falling apart now. I'm most certain that wasn't her intent. She told me to stop being a turtle. That's the literal translation. Stop being a head-ducking turtle. The idiom, however, translates better as "Quit being a coward. Don't be a lily-livered fraidy cat. Face your problems."

It all sounds so simple. So straightforward. So easy.

It explains so much. Yeah, I'm a coward. I never thought there'd be a day when I willingly admitted to it, except I did. It's always so hard to convey what I'm afraid of, and what I'm feeling, and words never speak as loud as actions. Or rather, saying out loud that I'm afraid of rejection and I feel despair and then not doing anything about it... it's hard to get across the complexity of everything.

So it's easier to hide. In books, in TV shows, in fanfiction... even in news. Anywhere but here. Anywhere that I can be someone who isn't me. Anywhere that I can be someone who has a purpose.

//----------------------------

I'm coming back to this post 10 hours later. Not that it really matters. Life, I mean. Purpose or not, what's there to do but live it? And so what if I'm tired? I'll take a break. It doesn't matter that I have a great job, or any of that. If it's wearing me out, then maybe it's not right for me. I've tried so hard to make it work, but if it doesn't fit, then no amount of denial is going to change the outcome.

Maybe I'll make it. Maybe I won't. Maybe this step is a piece of some larger destiny that will stoke my hero complex. Or maybe... maybe it's just life.

Confusion

Not two hours ago, I was all set to post a nice miserable entry about my ongoing battle with myself, and how I'm losing.

Not thirty minutes ago, I was ready to put up a heartwarming entry on finding hope in the darkest of places, and the resilience of human nature, and not being a quitter.

Well, I'm not nearly as emo as I was two hours ago. Neither am I as hopeful as I was half an hour ago. I'm somewhere in between, and I hope that this is a baseline mood that can be maintained for the next month. If it gets worse than this, all the pressure will cause me to crack like a raw egg. Running yolks will ensue.

I'm trying to make light of the situation, but really, honestly, I'm tired.

Yet do I fear thy nature

Buzz Saw's comment on Akubi's post (Seal Hunt Starts in Less than 3 Days) was:
I don't see how anyone could kill such a cute, defenseless, and pitiful looking animal. Such sad eyes.

This affected me deeply. In a bad way. Because I find it quite easy to believe that a human being could kill, would kill "such a cute, defenseless, and pitiful looking animal". Without remorse, even. Some might see it as a job. Some might feel a dark thrill.

It's a sickening thought. Extremely disturbing. And my greatest fear.

This is all not good, very bad, absolutely horrible timing.

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

I'm so tired. And it hurts. I think I'm entering another "listless" phase. What horrible timing.

I'm more than a bit irked because I didn't get nearly as much accomplished as I would've liked over the weekend. However, I did manage to complete my art project.

One task checked off, nine hundred and ninety-nine to go.

Script Frenzy

I have decided to join the frenzy: Script Frenzy, that is.

Who? Me
What? 100 pages of script.
When? April 1 - April 30
Where? wherever I can write
Why? because I have this great plot that I had ready for last year's Script Frenzy, but I never got around to writing it out
How? uh... somehow.

What this means for me is that, before 4/1, I need to wrap up my other side projects, and maybe even get ahead in work (hah! as if! at least I've managed to catch up on work...). Between now and 4/1, I have training, possibly relatives visiting next weekend, and me going on vacation for a week. So I really need to wrap up my art project quickly (it's not technically "due" until July, but I don't want to lose momentum) and keep my focus during work. I managed to get quite a bit done on my art project today, so if I can keep that pace tomorrow, I should be able to wrap it up next weekend; I've only been working on it during weekends because I like doing it in natural light (artificial light creates this nasty glare that makes it hard to work in).

I'm excited! I think the story I have in mind is going to be good. I'm a little worried because I can only envision the beginning and end scenes very clearly, and I'm not entirely certain what's going to happen in the middle. I don't really want to make it super-complex, especially since this is my first screenplay, but I guess I will be throwing in a few more secondary characters than I currently anticipate. They have been forming in the back of my mind while I concentrate on my other tasks. How useful.