This is a song I love more than words can say, and that continues to bring tears to my eyes and goosebumps to my arms. The first time I heard it, in fantastic Anique's workshop during the 2006 Goddess Conference in Glastonbury, UK, it started a very deep healing process. I have since heard it performed by Anique and Julie Felix (whose version is probably my favourite), sung it alone and with friends and Sisters in group, circle and ceremony, and witnessed the impact it has on people. I sing it whenever I need to feel the Love, whenever I feel low and unworthy, and I aim to spread it as widely as I can.
Lyrics: Libby Roderick.
Friday, 24 July 2009
Tuesday, 21 July 2009
Turned inside out
I'm so tired and exhausted that it feels like every nerve is raw, every emotion too close to the surface; almost like having been turned inside out. For almost a week now I've felt like I'm having the worst PMT (without a period), and I feel so weepy it's crazy. My circle sisters and lovelies know just how not weepy I am, but not now. I could almost burst into tears for no reason at all - or for any reason. This is not like me. It's not bad though, just unfamiliar.
It may just be a Very Good Thing that I've finally dived deep into the sea of emotions, gently bobbing on its waves and feeling the strong, currents in its depths, that so exatly mirror my own emotions. I've surely taken my time to go with Domnu, but here I am, Lady. Perhaps I should revisit the place She brought me to in that meditation in Chalice Well two years ago; the space that echoed with the energy of the Caer Sidi, a cavelike space outside of time and place which appears to be at the centre of all dimensions and from which I will be able to move freely between them. Perhaps this is just another nudge from the Lady that it is about time I come back and get to work.
Still, the feeling of having suddenly been turned inside out and wearing my emotions without protective walls, is not entirely pleasant; and yes, what a challenge!Sunday, 19 July 2009
Irrational feelings or not?
So I found out earlier this week that my latest X, who dumped me without a reason I could understand (and apparently just as surprisingly to the number of friends who have asked me why, since they didn't understand), is now in a relationship again. It bugs me, and I'm not sure why. I don't like not knowing why.
This X was someone I liked being with - or rather liked having fun with - but never the big love. Actually, not love at all. So from that perspective it was no surprise that it didn't last, and it served the important purpose of opening my eyes for the fact that I don't really fancy men at all; ie that I can stop kidding myself that I'm bisexual.
I'm not saying "good riddance", like some friends did, because he's a good guy and a really good Dom, but just nothing more than that for me. And still... being dumped hurt like hell, and I'd rather be the one to move on first, after any relationship. Which I never am.
I'm trying to figure out why I'm feeling this conflicted - I don't want him but I don't want him to want anyone else, sort of thing - and so far, I've come up with this:
This X was someone I liked being with - or rather liked having fun with - but never the big love. Actually, not love at all. So from that perspective it was no surprise that it didn't last, and it served the important purpose of opening my eyes for the fact that I don't really fancy men at all; ie that I can stop kidding myself that I'm bisexual.
I'm not saying "good riddance", like some friends did, because he's a good guy and a really good Dom, but just nothing more than that for me. And still... being dumped hurt like hell, and I'd rather be the one to move on first, after any relationship. Which I never am.
I'm trying to figure out why I'm feeling this conflicted - I don't want him but I don't want him to want anyone else, sort of thing - and so far, I've come up with this:
Being dumped hurts because it immediately takes me back into once again being rejected, found not good enough, not lovable. (I know that's probably not how it is in reality, but that's how it feels, and feelings are never true or untrue, good or bad, they just are.) Will I never fall in love? Will I never be loved? Am I unlovable? So far, all evidence unfortunately seems to point in that direction, so there's really no surprise the thought springs to mind.
I think I am lovable; I know I am. Or should be, for the right person(s). So maybe I just haven't met that Big Love, who will love me and whom I'll love back. But inside of me, there is still that little vulnerable girl who's never been loved, who still doubts that she is good enough since no-one seems to really want her or love her. And she hurts like hell every time she's rejected.
I also suppose I have this desire that any man who's been in a relationship with me, and who dumps me, shall never be able to appreciate another woman in the same way. I know, it is childish and foolish and perhaps a bit possessive, but I think that it's also quite a common reaction. If they've liked me, and been allowed to enjoy me, of course I don't take too kindly to being discarded like an old pair of boots. May their testicles shrivel up and rot, may their physical fun give them no more pleasure sort of thing. No, there's no curse involved, just a bit of a woman scorned. And it usually passes after a while. But I really do think that he should never desire another woman like he desired me, and never be able to enjoy physical pleasures in the same way. Which is of course exactly the truth, because it is never the same with anyone else.
I wish my Xes the best of luck and I want them to be happy - but I want to be happy too! And to know that they move on and are (hopefully) happy only highlights the fact that I'm single, rejected, scorned and not happy about it.
Sunday, 12 July 2009
Breaking the box - or just refusing it?
There are times when I am struck with how "alternative" I apparently am. Not in my own eyes, nor in those of my closer friends, but in the eyes of "normal people". And I wonder why. Because in all honesty, I really don't think I'm very different at all. But it may be that I come across as a fairly normal person, which makes people assume that I am, and when they realise that I don't fit in the neat little box they made for me, they are confused. And all too often these "people" are the kind who can't accept the things they don't understand and just shut up, so they have to comment their surprise. (Which is another thing I don't get; why some people have to voice every single thought and opinion they seem to have?)
I believe in trying to accept the things I don't understand, and most life choices I don't like, and I absolutely believe in not having to comment them. There are of course exceptions to what I can accept; I will never accept that people choose to harm themselves or lead destructive and self-deprecating life styles, I will never accept intolerance, paedophilia, abuse of animals, women and children, chauvinism, bullying, and fundamentalism, and I have no problem voicing those opinions, which I don't see as a problem, either. But this thing of seemingly having to speak every single thought out loud, no matter how irrelevant and negative it may be, that is something I don't understand. Usually, I just refuse to react to it.
I like breaking people's boxes, I like messing with their preconceived notions of normality and their judgements of me. I like when they have to reconsider and - hopefully - realise that there is more to life than they may have thought. But at times, I am reminded of how different I seem to be.
I'm not normal, and shy away from normality in the sense of neat little boxes and labels, but the things that feel natural and normal to my identity, can be box-breakers for others.
But in what way?
I'm a Goddess follower, I am in Her service as Her Priestess (which is not the formal title of the Christian church, but more a term for my commitment to Her - in lack of a better word); but I don't really relate to the term Pagan.
I love body art - especially tattoos and piercings - and see them as a means of self-expression. This may not be uncommon anymore, but I apparently don't seem like "the type". Guess what? I am. There are more patterns on my body that have yet to rise to the surface and be captured in ink by great artists...
I'm into sex/playing that may seem kinky and perverted to others - BDSM, dominance/submission - have found that immensely empowering and rested gently in surrendering control while still keeping the ultimate control of the situation. (If any Dom doesn't respect a stop word, it's not BDSM any more, but abuse and rape.) It is something that resonates with me on a deep level, and that feels very true. But many normal people frown upon it and would never admit the kinky stuff that goes on in their vanilla bedrooms.
I'm not heterosexual, and haven't been since before puberty. For the longest time I defined myself as bisexual, but with the years I've come to realise that it is not an accurate label. Even though I may play with men, do sessions with them, I am not attracted to them. Sex with a man has always left me feeling unsatisfied, even though the men in question have (too) often pointed out how wonderful it is. I guess there's some spirit work involved, channeling the Divine through the mind/body connection of sex, but to me that actually feels more like work than the pleasurable rapture and passion that sex should be.
So last week I took the plunge and decided that it was time to stop denying the obvious: I'm gay, not bi. The change is purely semantic in nature, but that little change of a prefix is a huge one to many people. For me, it's just stating the obvious and I'm really quite surprised that I didn't see this more clearly sooner. Rhiannon did point me in that direction more than two years ago, and only a week and a half ago, when relating Her message to a couple of friends, did I finally hear what She had been saying. There is more to be said in that matter, but in time.
So as for boxes, I'm not a fan of them. I don't like limitations to who I am; I spent far too many years building a prison for myself to ever let that happen again. I am free now, and I will not let anyone tell me how I should be or that what I do or am is wrong.
Addendum, July 13: A friend drew my attention to how I apparently stand out a bit among normal people because of the way I dress and the music I like as well... But is that really relevant? Music and dress style seem to be areas in which it is accepted to deviate, because then people can usually see what subculture you belong to. Usually, not always.
I believe in trying to accept the things I don't understand, and most life choices I don't like, and I absolutely believe in not having to comment them. There are of course exceptions to what I can accept; I will never accept that people choose to harm themselves or lead destructive and self-deprecating life styles, I will never accept intolerance, paedophilia, abuse of animals, women and children, chauvinism, bullying, and fundamentalism, and I have no problem voicing those opinions, which I don't see as a problem, either. But this thing of seemingly having to speak every single thought out loud, no matter how irrelevant and negative it may be, that is something I don't understand. Usually, I just refuse to react to it.
I like breaking people's boxes, I like messing with their preconceived notions of normality and their judgements of me. I like when they have to reconsider and - hopefully - realise that there is more to life than they may have thought. But at times, I am reminded of how different I seem to be.
I'm not normal, and shy away from normality in the sense of neat little boxes and labels, but the things that feel natural and normal to my identity, can be box-breakers for others.
But in what way?
I'm a Goddess follower, I am in Her service as Her Priestess (which is not the formal title of the Christian church, but more a term for my commitment to Her - in lack of a better word); but I don't really relate to the term Pagan.
I love body art - especially tattoos and piercings - and see them as a means of self-expression. This may not be uncommon anymore, but I apparently don't seem like "the type". Guess what? I am. There are more patterns on my body that have yet to rise to the surface and be captured in ink by great artists...
I'm into sex/playing that may seem kinky and perverted to others - BDSM, dominance/submission - have found that immensely empowering and rested gently in surrendering control while still keeping the ultimate control of the situation. (If any Dom doesn't respect a stop word, it's not BDSM any more, but abuse and rape.) It is something that resonates with me on a deep level, and that feels very true. But many normal people frown upon it and would never admit the kinky stuff that goes on in their vanilla bedrooms.
I'm not heterosexual, and haven't been since before puberty. For the longest time I defined myself as bisexual, but with the years I've come to realise that it is not an accurate label. Even though I may play with men, do sessions with them, I am not attracted to them. Sex with a man has always left me feeling unsatisfied, even though the men in question have (too) often pointed out how wonderful it is. I guess there's some spirit work involved, channeling the Divine through the mind/body connection of sex, but to me that actually feels more like work than the pleasurable rapture and passion that sex should be.
So last week I took the plunge and decided that it was time to stop denying the obvious: I'm gay, not bi. The change is purely semantic in nature, but that little change of a prefix is a huge one to many people. For me, it's just stating the obvious and I'm really quite surprised that I didn't see this more clearly sooner. Rhiannon did point me in that direction more than two years ago, and only a week and a half ago, when relating Her message to a couple of friends, did I finally hear what She had been saying. There is more to be said in that matter, but in time.
So as for boxes, I'm not a fan of them. I don't like limitations to who I am; I spent far too many years building a prison for myself to ever let that happen again. I am free now, and I will not let anyone tell me how I should be or that what I do or am is wrong.
Addendum, July 13: A friend drew my attention to how I apparently stand out a bit among normal people because of the way I dress and the music I like as well... But is that really relevant? Music and dress style seem to be areas in which it is accepted to deviate, because then people can usually see what subculture you belong to. Usually, not always.
Friday, 29 May 2009
Tuesday, 26 May 2009
Days with heavy sighs
And everything feels so heavy again. The air is hard to breathe, there's like a pressure over my chest, and it's very difficult to get started with anything. Could it be depression? But hey - I'm already on antidepressants! Perhaps it's just a brief dip into anxiety. I hope it'll pass soon, because I don't like feelng this unstable, this... vulnerable. It's like my protective outer layer has been peeled off, like my shell is thinner. Like I'm more susceptible to the woes of this world; or rather to my emotions and any other things that affect me. That may be a good thing, but it sure doesn't feel too good. I don't like not feeling like me; I want to be competent and string and full of initiative and... passionate. I want to burn! Now it's more like I'm smouldering.
So what happened? Nothing, really. I went to a fantastic wedding party for one of my darling friends on Saturday, had a migraine instead of a hangover on Sunday (which is infinitely worse while in the midst of it, although I feel better after the migraine than if I had a hangover), and had a real day-after afternoon when a friend came over and we had pizza and watched Twilight.
Yesterday I really didn't want to get out of bed, and had a ridiculously hard time trying to focus on work. Not that there is much work right now - which is a huge stress factor and a partial source to the anxiety - but I do have to get to work on the next book. Of course I became a bit busier in the afternoon, so I ended up missing the bus to dance class. Darnit! I don't show up as late as I would have done if I'd taken the next bus or tried to take the tram and trunk bus there, so I felt sorry for myself and ransacked the kitchen for whatever chocolate I could find.
It feels like there is just so much that goes against me right now: My baby kitty Bonnie is in heat since Friday night, and that's a bit hard to put up with. Sure, Tiger has had mercy on her a couple of times (surely it must be a mercy fuck, coming from a neutered male), but it's not like that shuts her up for long. I never guessed there could be so much noise coming from such a small cat. I knew it would happen, sooner or later, since she's over a year old, but I had hoped she would wait until I had more money. Evidently not. So I've got a vet appointment to sterilize her next Wednesday - apparently it can't be done while she's in heat. But by then I should have had an invoice paid.
My old desktop computer is at its last straw, and I need to get another one. The laptop is also getting a bit old and slow, so they both will need replacing soonish. It just takes so much energy when computers don't work properly
I'm getting a tattoo on Monday, and even though I've been looking forward to this for months, I'm not looking forward to the cost. At the moment, my financial situation is worse than in a long time, but I'm trying to keep my faith that everything will be all right. It has to be.
I won't be able to afford a holiday this summer, but I will be dancing twice a week, and that's better than most holidays.
I've made a decision to have a shopping-free month. It means no shopping for myself, apart from food and things that I need to replace (contact lens fluids etc); and presents to others. It shouldn't be too hard, but seeing how I love to shop and how it's so therapeutic for me, it'll be a challenge. No books, no clothes, no makeup... But I've already got more than enough, and a month is not a very long time. I can't but try, right?
So what happened? Nothing, really. I went to a fantastic wedding party for one of my darling friends on Saturday, had a migraine instead of a hangover on Sunday (which is infinitely worse while in the midst of it, although I feel better after the migraine than if I had a hangover), and had a real day-after afternoon when a friend came over and we had pizza and watched Twilight.
Yesterday I really didn't want to get out of bed, and had a ridiculously hard time trying to focus on work. Not that there is much work right now - which is a huge stress factor and a partial source to the anxiety - but I do have to get to work on the next book. Of course I became a bit busier in the afternoon, so I ended up missing the bus to dance class. Darnit! I don't show up as late as I would have done if I'd taken the next bus or tried to take the tram and trunk bus there, so I felt sorry for myself and ransacked the kitchen for whatever chocolate I could find.
It feels like there is just so much that goes against me right now: My baby kitty Bonnie is in heat since Friday night, and that's a bit hard to put up with. Sure, Tiger has had mercy on her a couple of times (surely it must be a mercy fuck, coming from a neutered male), but it's not like that shuts her up for long. I never guessed there could be so much noise coming from such a small cat. I knew it would happen, sooner or later, since she's over a year old, but I had hoped she would wait until I had more money. Evidently not. So I've got a vet appointment to sterilize her next Wednesday - apparently it can't be done while she's in heat. But by then I should have had an invoice paid.
My old desktop computer is at its last straw, and I need to get another one. The laptop is also getting a bit old and slow, so they both will need replacing soonish. It just takes so much energy when computers don't work properly
I'm getting a tattoo on Monday, and even though I've been looking forward to this for months, I'm not looking forward to the cost. At the moment, my financial situation is worse than in a long time, but I'm trying to keep my faith that everything will be all right. It has to be.
I won't be able to afford a holiday this summer, but I will be dancing twice a week, and that's better than most holidays.
I've made a decision to have a shopping-free month. It means no shopping for myself, apart from food and things that I need to replace (contact lens fluids etc); and presents to others. It shouldn't be too hard, but seeing how I love to shop and how it's so therapeutic for me, it'll be a challenge. No books, no clothes, no makeup... But I've already got more than enough, and a month is not a very long time. I can't but try, right?
Monday, 18 May 2009
Strange days
So I'm finding it harder and harder to get out of bed in the morning. Yesterday (Sunday) was pretty weird; I was so amazingly tired that I think I must have gone back to bed 4 times during the day, and I kept yawning and yawning - which of course doesn't make you any less tired. But some time after 10pm, I felt energised again. Perhaps I'm really turning into some sort of nocturnal creature?
But I recalled what my nail technician (yes, I am that vain) said something about the side-effects she got from the same antidepressant that I take; all of a sudden she almost can't get out of bed in the morning (for me, it takes almost an hour) and she keeps yawning. Check. So perhaps it's that simple: I'm more tired, find it difficult to get out of bed although I'm not necessarily that tired in the morning, and yawn a lot more as a side-effect. And I did up my dosage only a week and a half ago, so naturally any side-effects are bound to be more marked for a while. Annoying!
I used to be an early riser, and compared to many people I know, I still am. I'm really not too tired in the morning, or in the evening/at night, but in between can be a bit of a challenge. At the moment, I'm trying to think that it's probably just a residue of the exhaustion from autumn and to give myself time to heal, take naps if I need to and so on. But at the same time, I'm wondering how long it will take for me to get back to normal energy levels. Should it really take this long? I'm not worried; more impatient and annoyed. (Of course. Patience still isn't my greatest virtue.)
So today, I'll try to keep my eyes pried open while I'm going through the proofs for my next book translation. This is the boring part of translating books: The editing. It's pretty mind-numbing work that really requires a minimum of creativity on my part, which is probably why I think it's so boring. I want a creative challenge!
But first of all: A nice cuppa herbal tea...
But I recalled what my nail technician (yes, I am that vain) said something about the side-effects she got from the same antidepressant that I take; all of a sudden she almost can't get out of bed in the morning (for me, it takes almost an hour) and she keeps yawning. Check. So perhaps it's that simple: I'm more tired, find it difficult to get out of bed although I'm not necessarily that tired in the morning, and yawn a lot more as a side-effect. And I did up my dosage only a week and a half ago, so naturally any side-effects are bound to be more marked for a while. Annoying!
I used to be an early riser, and compared to many people I know, I still am. I'm really not too tired in the morning, or in the evening/at night, but in between can be a bit of a challenge. At the moment, I'm trying to think that it's probably just a residue of the exhaustion from autumn and to give myself time to heal, take naps if I need to and so on. But at the same time, I'm wondering how long it will take for me to get back to normal energy levels. Should it really take this long? I'm not worried; more impatient and annoyed. (Of course. Patience still isn't my greatest virtue.)
So today, I'll try to keep my eyes pried open while I'm going through the proofs for my next book translation. This is the boring part of translating books: The editing. It's pretty mind-numbing work that really requires a minimum of creativity on my part, which is probably why I think it's so boring. I want a creative challenge!
But first of all: A nice cuppa herbal tea...
Monday, 11 May 2009
Better
Better today.
Not as devastated; more dejected. But I'm trying to bury my thoughts in translation and Microsoft terminology (and silly quizzes on Facebook) to escape feeling and thinking too much. And because I simply have to. I have a deadline tomorrow and am determined to meet it, because I have to get started with the second part of L.E. Modesitt Jr's The Magic Engineer.
Unfortunately it looks like I'm going to miss the extra drilling class for Callisto tonight :( I was really looking forward to some Bellydance Bootcamp, to dance away all the negative energy from this last week, but alas! Work has to come first. Seeing that the summer courses start in two weeks, I think I'll have my fill of hard training.
I miss him. I miss falling asleep with him, having breakfast together, laughing together. I miss him.
Sunday, 10 May 2009
Broken girl, lost in the shadows...
Bad day. I really need to work; I'm massively behind after spending Monday with book-keeping and my tax returns, and after Wednesday's shocker, but I just can't seem to get my mind to work properly today. And I have to get a grip: I have a slight hunch that falling apart isn't an excuse for missing Microsoft deadlines. That's where I'm at today: Falling apart. Or close to it.
I'm not normally one for crying my eyes out, but today I can't seem to stop. I just don't get it. I don't understand what I did wrong. Or why he didn't say anything before, when we were making plans for the summer together, but acted as if everything was fine and then coldly threw it in my face (without looking me in the eyes): It's over, it doesn't feel right, it doesn't click. Why couldn't he say so before we made plans? I don't understand! Also, it seems like he's getting a lot of sympathy, when he's the one who dumped me. How unfair is that?
Life really feels effingly unfair and I just can't seem to pull myself out of the dark right now. I don't want to wallow in misery and feel sorry for myself, but this time, I have no luck with my usual solutions in being hard on myself and telling myself to get a grip, stop being such a pathetic little whine, and get on with my life. They don't work today.
As long as I keep busy, I can hold myself together. Friday was insanely busy; breakfast at the make up studio while getting ready for the big booking (5 make up artists, close to 50 clients who were booked for big party make ups), doing make ups non-stop from 12:30 to almost 6pm, getting everything packed up and back to the studio, a quick change of clothes there and then dash of to Hard Rock Café for bowling and dinner with my sisters and sisters-in-law (late birthday present). Yesterday was filled with a sort of hen party for one of my best friends - brunch at 10, chocolate sampling, silversmithery (?) and dinner. I got back home around 1am, so there wasn't really any time to stop and feel then, either. And I am phenomenal at keeping my guards up and my mask on; to bring out that social and positive part of me. But last night, I could feel the darkness closing in on me again. And today... No. I don't want today.
I don't want to talk about it; I don't know how to handle friends' pity - am I really worth their sympathy? perhaps I'm just pathetic and should be able to cope with the rejection of being dumped? - and besides, I don't want anyone to see me this devastated. (Of course, if I would see anyone, the mask would go on.) At the same time, I don't want to be lonely. Or do I? Argh, I don't know anything! I don't want to be distracted, I don't want to talk about it and share my pain; I just want to forget. Or that it wasn't real. What if it were just a bad dream and I could wake up again and everything was fine. What if I could wake up and be whole again. Because I feel broken.
This wasn't the big love that forever changes me to the core, so why does it hurt so much? Why do I feel broken? Because I was a fool to trust him? Because I let myself believe that just because everything seemed and felt good, it was good? Because I was stupid enough to think that I would be enough, that I'd be good enough? I don't mean to be utterly pathetic or to beg for reassurance, it's just rethorical questions; the questions that keep repeating in my mind. Until I get an explanation, I can't help thinking that it must've been something I did, or something I didn't do.
Broken girl, lost in the shadows...
I'm not normally one for crying my eyes out, but today I can't seem to stop. I just don't get it. I don't understand what I did wrong. Or why he didn't say anything before, when we were making plans for the summer together, but acted as if everything was fine and then coldly threw it in my face (without looking me in the eyes): It's over, it doesn't feel right, it doesn't click. Why couldn't he say so before we made plans? I don't understand! Also, it seems like he's getting a lot of sympathy, when he's the one who dumped me. How unfair is that?
Life really feels effingly unfair and I just can't seem to pull myself out of the dark right now. I don't want to wallow in misery and feel sorry for myself, but this time, I have no luck with my usual solutions in being hard on myself and telling myself to get a grip, stop being such a pathetic little whine, and get on with my life. They don't work today.
As long as I keep busy, I can hold myself together. Friday was insanely busy; breakfast at the make up studio while getting ready for the big booking (5 make up artists, close to 50 clients who were booked for big party make ups), doing make ups non-stop from 12:30 to almost 6pm, getting everything packed up and back to the studio, a quick change of clothes there and then dash of to Hard Rock Café for bowling and dinner with my sisters and sisters-in-law (late birthday present). Yesterday was filled with a sort of hen party for one of my best friends - brunch at 10, chocolate sampling, silversmithery (?) and dinner. I got back home around 1am, so there wasn't really any time to stop and feel then, either. And I am phenomenal at keeping my guards up and my mask on; to bring out that social and positive part of me. But last night, I could feel the darkness closing in on me again. And today... No. I don't want today.
I don't want to talk about it; I don't know how to handle friends' pity - am I really worth their sympathy? perhaps I'm just pathetic and should be able to cope with the rejection of being dumped? - and besides, I don't want anyone to see me this devastated. (Of course, if I would see anyone, the mask would go on.) At the same time, I don't want to be lonely. Or do I? Argh, I don't know anything! I don't want to be distracted, I don't want to talk about it and share my pain; I just want to forget. Or that it wasn't real. What if it were just a bad dream and I could wake up again and everything was fine. What if I could wake up and be whole again. Because I feel broken.
This wasn't the big love that forever changes me to the core, so why does it hurt so much? Why do I feel broken? Because I was a fool to trust him? Because I let myself believe that just because everything seemed and felt good, it was good? Because I was stupid enough to think that I would be enough, that I'd be good enough? I don't mean to be utterly pathetic or to beg for reassurance, it's just rethorical questions; the questions that keep repeating in my mind. Until I get an explanation, I can't help thinking that it must've been something I did, or something I didn't do.
Broken girl, lost in the shadows...
Tuesday, 13 January 2009
I miss the sun!
The sun doesn't seem to have risen today. Again. This is the third completely overcast day in a row. I stupidly went back to bed after feeding the cats this morning and woke up at 8:30, but even then it was still so dark it could have been at least an hour earlier. It brightened a bit for a while, but still no trace of the sun. And now it's raining, the dense sort of drizzle that seems like a solidified mist and that absolutely seeps through any umbrella or rain clothes. Gah - this is driving me nuts!
Honestly, Forks and the Olympic peninsula can't possibly be this bad. At least there's some amazing nature there. I completely fell in love with the scenery in Twilight (of course, since I was already in love with everything else about it); the forests, the mountains, the water... It was awe-inspiring. I could live there! City girl wanting to go into the wild again :) But I really love some real nature. Perhaps it's my Lap ancestry calling me back to Nature, or a calling from the dreamlike images of a vast wilderness that I have yet to place geographically.
In my father's childhood village, up in the Arctic region of Sweden, the sun has only just begun to rise above the horizon again, after 6 weeks of not rising at all, but I doubt that it's as grey and drab as here. OK, so I did whine a bit last week when the temperature dropped to -14 centigrade and I was f*ing freezing indoors as well, and I almost started crying when I had to go outside because it was so cold no matter how many layers of clothes I had on (I don't know what's happened, I didn't use to be this soft. Perhaps it's age), but at least it was sunny. I miss the sun.
I'd rather just crawl into bed with a stack of books, my laptop with all my music, drag the TV in from the livingroom and pretty much go into hibernation until spring comes. But that might be another 3 months... So I'd better stop whining and just get back to work. I guess that's the main reason for my whining: I'm just bored. But there are things to so, so I'd better get them done. Always such a sense of duty.
Honestly, Forks and the Olympic peninsula can't possibly be this bad. At least there's some amazing nature there. I completely fell in love with the scenery in Twilight (of course, since I was already in love with everything else about it); the forests, the mountains, the water... It was awe-inspiring. I could live there! City girl wanting to go into the wild again :) But I really love some real nature. Perhaps it's my Lap ancestry calling me back to Nature, or a calling from the dreamlike images of a vast wilderness that I have yet to place geographically.
In my father's childhood village, up in the Arctic region of Sweden, the sun has only just begun to rise above the horizon again, after 6 weeks of not rising at all, but I doubt that it's as grey and drab as here. OK, so I did whine a bit last week when the temperature dropped to -14 centigrade and I was f*ing freezing indoors as well, and I almost started crying when I had to go outside because it was so cold no matter how many layers of clothes I had on (I don't know what's happened, I didn't use to be this soft. Perhaps it's age), but at least it was sunny. I miss the sun.
I'd rather just crawl into bed with a stack of books, my laptop with all my music, drag the TV in from the livingroom and pretty much go into hibernation until spring comes. But that might be another 3 months... So I'd better stop whining and just get back to work. I guess that's the main reason for my whining: I'm just bored. But there are things to so, so I'd better get them done. Always such a sense of duty.
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