Ufio har

"Guilty by design -- she's nothing more than fiction."

[I contemplated my semester success in this space, and then decided that when held up ("in the light," so to speak) with those other things I'm thinking about, it seemed too trivial and forced.]

Ting-a-ling.

"He's everything you want. He's everything you need. He's everything inside of you that you wish you could be..."

I have, in these last few days, mused on an astounding number of things. Some have made me incredibly uncomfortable. Some have made me angry. Some have made me frustrated and irritated and...some have moved me to tears. At the moment, I'm actually quite worried. We'll see how those things that have triggered this particular emotion pan out -- it's like roulette with me. I'm perpetually unhinged and subconsciously loving every minute of it.

"...So please, stop explaining. Don't tell me...'cause it hurts."

Lately I've been reliving those moments that caused the greatest pain in my life. I've been reliving blood and flesh-gouged and death after death and my-fault-desertion and cruelty weathered for hope of love and unwanted stretches of solitude and massive doses of guilt and tears that I've caused and self-destructive behaviors and...everything. Such thoughts came creeping in a week ago, and only hit fever pitch last night. I wish I hadn't heard those strains through the floorboards. I wish I could have been held and taken care of after a cold, dark, notion-flooded drive home. "We fell through the ice when we tried not to slip." Won't be held responsible -- she was touching her face! For the life of me...

Oh, lord.

If she tries to remedy as she's said she would, does it matter if she fails on nights when no light shines?

"Og hér ert þú...
Fannst mér...
Og hér ert þú Glósóli...
Og hér ert þú Glósóli...
Og hér ert þú Glósóli...
Og hér ert þú."

"To the gravity and the unknown..."

"It was exhilarating and draining. The emotional effect of saving and being saved was addicting to both of us. And that, as much as anything we ever did in bed, was how we made love to each other: conjoined where [our] weaknesses needed protection."

-- Amy Tan, "Half and Half"

"Just how much you..."

Don't know.

Onyranidroevol

There have been far too many scrabbling, institutionalized fingers picking at me these past few weeks. There have been too many deadlines, too many exams (storm clouds threatening on the horizon), too many 'important' decisions heaped upon me like so much dead weight...too much stress accumulating as a result. Hold on -- just a moment. Am I speaking in absolutes again? Am I categorizing things too strictly...subscribing to a dualism that has, at its worst, managed to cripple me time and time again? If I begin to suffer from a self-inflicted insanity, what means could I employ in order to regain some semblance of mental stability? What, exactly, is 'justifiable punishment' within the sphere of self-motivation?

Because this stress is such a massive force right now, I have begun to think that the accompanying depression and anxiety are...disgustingly prevalent. I have a hard time believing that anyone wants to be apart of this process -- that anyone feels the need to bear the brunt of my venting, to help me weather these academics-seeded tempests...to help me. I don't feel that my reasons for being so "mentally fragile" are verifiable -- but some times (usually at night, when the darkness makes this room seem so shrunken and dead) I imagine that they are utterly well-founded and true. It's hard for me to judge the extent of change this stress has worked in me, and only now am I beginning to realize that by clinging so tenaciously to one side of the issue, I am (in effect) creating more vexation.

It's this dualism that I create and believe in that has so altered my temper and my coping abilities. It's my refusal to "flow" -- simply and with the current -- that has helped to make this stress so difficult to manage. One of the few things I have working for me (at the moment) is a recently-made promise to 'open up,' to continue talking even when the fear of being seen as-is (and mentally thrown open) threatens to shut me down. I can't begin to describe how absolutely relieving and freeing this is to someone who's been intensely private, oppressively guarded, and silently defensive for two decades. It's a wonderful thing, I think, and I'm utterly grateful that I have been made to experience the amazingly nebulous qualities of love. Though still in its infancy, this love has bounded over and across all parameters previously subscribed to...indeed, nothing ever turns out as it's expected in this relationship -- and it is this constant newness, this constant shifting and creating, that really baffles me...in a good way (to be sure).

Since I've made that decision to cease the 'snapping shut,' I find it hard to not express myself. Granted, I only feel comfortable expressing myself to a single person (for the time being) -- but at least that's something, right? In the last week, we've covered so many different topics...most of which have occupied a substantial thought niche in my brain. I have the urge to talk right now -- to discuss something in depth that's only just occured to me this minute (in relation to something that happened last weekend). I won't though; I can't. I need to take a nap, to get started on homework and a lengthy paper and about a thousand other things all directly related to my success as a student and as a human being.

"So many things that keep...that keep me underground;
So many words that I...that I can never find.
If you give up on me now I'll be gutted like I've never been before..."

insectbrainpressedanagainst

Interesting, the way the human mind (after an emotional blow) redoubles its efforts to live and to learn. Interesting, the strength of the urge I have to change externally...oh, chameleon-face's returned.

Interesting, a thousand different things I've been thinking about recently.

This weekend I procured for myself a massive collection of new music (because the Internet connection at my house is so lovely and fast I could cry) -- including Deerhoof, The Decemberists, Portishead, Mogwai, The Arcade Fire, Iron and Wine, Itzhak Perlman, Guided By Voices, Wintersleep, The Magentic Fields, Godspeed You Black Emperor, and The Beta Band. Of course, I couldn't waste an idle minute...so I also got a bunch more stuff by The Cure, Depeche Mode, Switchblade Symphony, Lycia, Coal Chamber, Siouxsie and the Banshees, and -- oh lord -- a trillion more songs not classifiable by artist. It's been a perfectly wonderful weekend, as far as getting interesting material with which to treat my ears.

Right now I've given in to the beautifully campy side in me -- I'm listening to Rob Zombie's "Sinister Urge," a CD that I haven't savored in a long, long time. I'd almost forgotten how flawlessly the man manages to blend B-movie horror stuff and silly thematics. Lord, how boring the world would be without people like Zombie...

As an aside, I dyed my hair. Darker. I love it.

It snowed yesterday afternoon. The sky was steel-grey, the world was muted, and the entire scenescape looked like it was encapsuled in a white fog. Everything was quiet, and the trees thrust up branches like black skeleton fingers; I walked through it, thought through it, marveled at the silent, ghostly beauty...

And now, after a five-hour break from this entry...I feel the need to lash out at something. At someone. You know what? I matter, too. More so than what's been given me thus far. I mattermattermatter -- maybe. Oh, I'm making myself sick...