Rainy Days

A few drops of acid separate you down the middle, skin melts off, falling in gooey clumps at your feet. You have been divided in halves. Thirds rather – theres a bit of you there on the floor. Yes, next to the shoe. Either way, you have been divided into segments that collectively may become you, but alone are nothing but abstractions of human nature that may belong to anyone. Was there not once a con artist with your intelligence? Or an unfeeling sadist with your dry wit and sarcasm? Maybe a molester with your tenderness? Perhaps a gunman with your grief?

Recognizable yet indistinct globs of you float, slither, seep, dry up into the atmosphere to rain down on a tree far off beneath which lies a child, drinking up the fragments of humanity that soak through to the bone. One cannot tell what the child will be. And only he may retell the story of each raindrop falling upon him.

Talent?

What good is talent when it cannot be embraced?

“Understand I’m a Sinner”

” don’t like the idea of coffee” you said, and ironically spoke of kapoofing your head off. The value of human life as one sees it is interesting.

Vague statements, unlike smoke screens, cannot be blown away. So while I sip on the embodiment (in part) of my self destructive tendencies, you inhale the fumes of yours. Of course, “you” exist only as I want you to because I will see everything through my tinted glasses and the fumes making you dizzy will, in my mind, beautify you. Bloody bandages do all the explaining. Only doctors look at the wounds.

I read somewhere it is what we don’t know about strangers that makes us like them. The less I know about you, the easier it is to fall in love with the “you” I fill in the blanks for. Maybe you were me in another life. Maybe you were real. Maybe you felt human…but what is it to feel human? Is it to feel pain? To feel joy? To feel relief, guilt, sadness? To feel (too much), to think (too much) – is that what it takes?

They call it a disease. One we are, in part, at fault for. So many faults to repent for, so little time. Forgive me doctor, for I have sinned. I have felt too much of life. I have thought too much of death. I have sinned I have sinned. And I repent for being too human. I repent for the naivety I tried to maintain, but I am all spent now doctor. How many Valiums will bring me to Salvation? How many more conf(s)essions till I’ve been cured?

Once I wanted to be…

the greatest
no wind or waterfall could stall me
and then came the rush of the flood
stars in mind turned deep to dust

[I dont know why I'm doing this. I want to write.

Lower me down
pin me in
secure the ground
for the later parade.

No, I can not

is very fucking hard to say.

Letters to No One

A forward email claiming we’re friends. Nice.

Am I really supposed to send it back to you? To prove we’re friends? Or…fuck..I dont even know. What do you want me to do with this? After..what? four years? And not a word in between.

I’m not replying or forwarding this back or..anything really. I dont need this right now. I dont need you. I have enough shit to deal with. If I do decide to reply, you’ll have to wait for it. I’m not cruel. This time I’m putting myself first. I need to do that. For a week. Till the 28th. And then I’m back to being..me.

The me that you didnt like. Or perhaps, a better me. A me without you. A stronger me.

Of course, i could be severely delusional, because sometimes I feel like the same little girl I was four years ago, in desperate need of someone to hang on to, and no one to reach.

Today

I missed one of my favourite classes today. Art Appreciation. Because I was registering. I went to the teacher and didnt have the decency to even say I’m sorry (which I genuinely was) because apparently…well, she didnt seem to mind. I feel like shit for not apologisint nonetheless. I should have. Even though I’m attending the lecture with another section on saturday.

So I finally got to register. I got to uni and went to registrars and told them the fucking shit system wasnt working and the shit response I got was “yeah, maybe there was a problem with IT, you can check with the. Maybe you can try registering from that lab?” Like wtf?! >_> the fucking system was SUPPOSED to be online at midnight.

Either way, I went to the lab, registered for courses (loooooong procedure, had to go to the academic affairs head because the shithead at registrars wouldnt let me drop english). Either way, that got done and I had class in the dark room. So I’m trying to print and I feel like I”m gonna collapse because I had had nothing but coffe since last night and ran the equivalent of at least 3 kilometers while trying to get all the signatures and bullshit for registration. So I go to the teacher and she gives me this disappointed look with a huge ass lecture and then sends me to go get food for myself. While eating I ask her what i”m supposed to do to improve my pictures. I am apparently supposed to shoot from my soul. They’re fucking textures. Someone tell me how. Anyways, she said the hourses I shot were the best and it all went downhill from there. I dont know what to do with this. I have a week left and the film I just developed was, in all honest, absolute shit. So I have got 3 rolls left. And a week to shoot and print. I”m so fucking screwed.

and so sleepy. And so fed up. Meh.

I want my bed and I want stress-free sleep.

Recent Reads: The Fact of a Doorframe

The Fact of a Doorframe

means there is something to hold
onto with both hands
while slow thrusting my forehead against the wood
and taking it away
one of the oldest motions of suffering
as Makeba sings
a courage-song for warriors
music is suffering made powerful

I think of the story
of the goose-girl who passed through the high gate
where the head of her favourite mare
was nailed to the arch
and in a human voice
If she could see thee now, thy mother’s heart would break
said the head
of Falada

Now, again, poetry,
violent, arcane, common,
hewn of the commonest living substance
into archway, portal, frame
I grasp for you, your bloodstained splinters, your
ancient and stubborn poise
-as the earth trembles-
burning out from the grain

~The Fact of a Doorframe,
Adrienne Rich

Thought

I thought of you
today
(and yesterday night when I was
wrapping
your wedding present)
I thought of you as
less
than human -
something I never allow myself
to do (not even with you,
or people
like you)

I felt less anger then
as I thought of
your (nineteen year old)
wife
and her
worthless
husband (I thought of you as
less than any
living thing;
less than any
thing)

And then
I asked this
confident(ly indifferent)
girl (a dichotomy
of selves)
how she had allowed
something as pitiful
and repulsive
as you
to hurt her;
to hurt
me

(and then I
stuck a bow
on your
present
and went away)

Somewhere in the dark AM hours

Night comes and I
wish to talk to you (again)
I have not
spilled tears for a while.
I would like to
discuss
at length
my growing discontent with
life and how I have again,
once, many times,
erred.
I wish to proclaim once more
my innocence
and how fate has brought
me to this.
I have not, I swear,
followed my own footsteps
round.
Can I too assert the fact
that I am nature’s making?
The nature of man has made me
and of nurture I can only
say
I have rejected it.
You see, these words
layered with meaning I’ve used
as bricks and boulders.
Only the toughest get in (and survive).
So night comes and I -

I speak
to stone walls

I am not a Poet

When I speak these words
will not be mine
The ones i write are little more
than hearsay put down
to make it seem as though
There is meaning
(some greater cause)
behind the curves of my pencil
other than my whim

Of Life and its Significance

The following post is purely written to organise my thoughts. Not entertaining or interesting.

So the documents for both schools have been photocopied and put in separate folders so bro can go get them attested. Funny how my life/my person/my everything comes down to a pathetic looking folder full of a shit excuse for “achievements”. But no one cares about the person anyways. We’re all just walking manikins, some of which happen to have validated themselves with a bunch of certificates and transcripts and references and statements certified by some governing body or organization that only sees them as such – a collection of certificates. Not a person, not a human being but simply a collection of recognized achievements.

We were talking about mom dying today, at the table. Morbid as it sounds, we were trying to make a point. Mother dearest wants to get/will soon get an operation done and father dearest will have departed for Canada. It’ll be me, bro, sophie and the nanny..and mom recovering from surgery. It got me thinking about death. My death, moms death, anyones death. A human beings death. And what we leave behind in the world. Why is it that certified education and a prestigious career and all that bullshit matter so much when there are greater things in life? Greater achievements and greater happiness. Greater fulfillment. Joy.

Why is it so hard? to…enjoy…to feel fulfilled, content, satisfied, satiated, at peace.

Its funny how you(I) train yourself(myself) to behave and do exactly what is asked of you(me)…and then wonder innocently what the restlessness is born out of; wonder why the tiny inbetweens..the few seconds it takes to get from one task to the next are full of…emptiness? Despair? Like a deep pit opens up within and all maintained happiness begins to sink somewhere into oblivion.

I want to do something more with my life. Feel greater achievement and greater happiness. Feel happiness…genuine happiness. I think of being a child..around ten I think I was…6th grade, whenever that was. I miss it. I miss it so much.

This was supposed to be a post about random shit I’ve got to do for uni. Transcripts, essays, portfolios, projects. And I’ve launched into a rant about everything I’ve been trying to ignore while making myself prepare all this shit.

Maybe I’m reading too much into these applications. But I cant help but feel…so often now..that who I am counts for absolute shit. Who I am is not Gin, or Areej, or Dolly or sister, daughter, friend. Who I am is insignificant. And if I die..when I die…all I’ll be leaving behind is a folder full of certificates, some vague memories, an obscure recollection of someone that once was or might have been or perhaps wasnt at all.

On Repeat

A song that has been on my playlist for more than a while – Tori Amos’ cover of Leonard Cohen’s Famous Blue Raincoat.

It’s four in the morning, the end of December.
I’m writing you now to see if you’re better.
New York is cold, but I like where I’m living.
There’s music on Clinton Street all through the evening.

I hear that you’re building your little house deep in the desert.
You’re living for nothing now.
Hope you’re keeping some kind of record.

Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of your hair.
She said that you gave it to her,
On the night that you planned to go clear.
Did you ever go clear?

Last time I saw you, you looked so much older,
Your famous blue raincoat, torn at the shoulder.
Been to the station to meet every train.
You came home alone without Lilly Marlene.
You treated my woman to a flake of your life,
And when she came back, she was nobody’s wife.

Well, I see you there with a rose in your teeth-
One more thin Gypsy thief. I see Jane’s awake.
She sends her regards.
Mmm… heaha… heh-ha… mmm-mmm…

What can I tell you, my brother, my killer,
What can I possibly say?
Hey, I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you,
I’m glad you stood in my way.

If you ever come by here for Jane or for me,
Well, your enemy is sleeping now an’ his woman is free.
Well, thanks for the trouble you took from her eyes.
I thought it was there for good, so I never tried.

And Jane came by with a lock of your hair.
She said that you gave it to her,
On the night that you planned to go… clear.
Sincerely, L. Cohen.

Random developments on this side of the..screen

I have found out today that I’ve got a shitload of work to do (more so than I had thought before the weekend began) and oddly, I cant seem to get myself started. This post is among the many procrastination techniques I’ve employed and it looks like I’m succeeding.

I sat and played with sophie for the first time in ages today. Kids take up time. Pets take up time. People take up time. So I have been avoiding all of them. Its funny how make-believe conversations in my head make up for almost no human contact.

In class on monday, I got up from my chair to hand in something to the teacher. Being me, I tripped and almost fell over someone’s bag/portfolio case/art supplies and whatever else it was that was there next to my chair. I got to the teacher’s desk (after bumping into a table) and she says “please dont hurt yourself.” Its stayed with me all week. Not the fact that she said it but the way it was said. It was…unexpected.

I miss highschool. God. I miss using my fucking brain. College is supposed to be challenging, isnt it? All I’ve got so far is a teacher thats convinced I’m going to fail and ridiculously time consuming work. But nothing that makes me feel smart. Nothing that gives me that high I get from learning something new and excelling at it. This isnt new. None of it is. Well, some of it is, but the basic principle behind it all is…stuff I already know. Dont I sound like an arrogant shithead? If I do “know it all” then I should be getting A’s in…everything. <_>…Oh look! I am! So far at least.

Meh.

Whats funny is…whats really “funny” is that even after my going on and on about being smart..all I can honestly say is that…some day I’ll fall flat on my face and..that will be the end of it. Some day soon, I fear.

I have got a portfolio review scheduled for Feb 20th with one uni and the other is as yet not scheduled…I’ve got the application for it though…Somehow..it seems less daunting than I thought at first. My drawing skills have improved drastically. I’ve been thinking visually which is good for my “career” (terrible for my writing). I want to stop thinking about uni for a while…but everything seems to revolve around it now. I guess that would be the “hard” part.

Coherence escapes me. So I cant really compose my thoughts and write a single damn thing worth reading. Not even a creative rant about things. Not even a damn argumentative essay.

*sigh*

On another note – there always seems to be a atrong female vocalist I listen to for a long patch of time. Sometimes months, sometimes years, sometimes alternating between two for years. Well, at the moment its Tori Amos. And I cannot get enough of her voice. Or lyrics. Or music.

And before my internet connection crashes, I shall finish this post with a…

*flourishes*

Gnight.

I just realised…

“erratic sleep pattern” might be an oxymoron…because something thats erratic doesnt have a pattern to it.

I shall shut up now.

Erratic sleep patterns and their cons –

Maybe thats what I should write about.

I came home, watched tv for a bit, wrote the last blog post but went to check on sophie before posting it. I fell asleep while soothing her. Funny.

So I woke up a while back and I am still sleepy and headachey and want to crawl into bed with a nice warm blanket and some good music (hooray limewire!) but then my head goes “You’ve already slept for 7 hours.”

If anyone else had said that, it’d be met with a “so what?” and a fuck you thought silently..after which I’d go back to bed. But since I am not someone else, and I probably have work to do (my mind has been scrambling to come up with something for the past hour) I might stay awake till I have to go to uni and come back and sleep then.

….Or not.

Gnight.

Meh.

If I were to be completely honest, I’d say part of me misses being the little one. Not the little one in terms of the youngest child but in terms of the naive, young thing thats still learning. I feel I am older than I am. Most times I take pride in it, in my independence. Then sometimes I’d just love to be held and sung to sleep. Or held and listened to until I’ve given all the speeches I make up in my head and all thats left to do is be cuddled in comfortable silence.

We were discussing “segregated education” today at uni for english and the topic went over to how a segregated society promotes homosexuality. I disagree. But thats not the point. Whenever “we” (the world and I) have a “discussion” of this sort, it occurs to me how extremely animal-like humans are. It all comes down the reproduction and progression of the human race. How tiresome…boring…that that is all life is about. And what of art? What of music? What about love that does not need validation through sex? What about sex that has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with making love? And why is everyone so interested in who decides to make love with whom? Be it a man and a man or a woman and a woman or a woman and a man.

Whats simply astonishing is how they’ll accept a heterosexual asshole and attribute his asshole-ness to his manliness, and reject wonderful people whos only “problem” is that they are “twisted”. It was hate I saw in that classroom. And disgust. But why? Why……because its alright for someone to be a murderer, a rapist, a thief, a whatever the fuck there is to be, as long as he can fuck and she can be fucked and the human race can keep on moving.

I will never bring a child into this world willingly.

Bits of the Day #I’ve lost track

I’m home! I’m home!

Okay, I’ve been home for a while now, and only left for a few hours but it seemed like a lot. We went to ze fish market (smelly place) with someone and got fresh fish and shrimps and squid. And had it cooked, of course. Then went to the beach and had lunch. I had my hopes up for crab or lobster..or both..but it seems it was not meant for today.

Anyhow, the fish market was a lot more fascinating than one would think. And because of that, I have decided that my final project for photography will be about the fish market. I’ve already got a roll of film so I’ll get at least 4 WONDERFUL photographs from it. Now its just a matter of getting a couple more rolls filled out, developing them and handing in the damn thing on time. I’ve got a month, so, no rush.

I’ve been working on another project all weekend. I call it HELL. Well, no, its about the gradual sophistication of living arrangements…in other words how buildings and shit have changed from the times of Fred Flintstone. Not very scientifically accurate, since its just images that I have drawn. Focusing more on design and shit and it is now finally almost done. All I have to do is apply the finishing touches and it will be ready to hand in first thing 11:00 tomorrow. *wipes brow*

The coming week looks rather promising actually. Aside from this assignment and two tests I’ve got tomorrow, and one on Monday, theres not much else to do the rest of the week. I will, of course, be spending time working on my portfolio and final photography project. I’ve been a smart ass and finished an assignment early so that makes me free-er than I would be. hah.

Is it sad that all I talk about is uni? <_>

In other news…my Art Appreciation teacher is pretty cool. The kind one can have random conversations with. Which is always good. Teacher ratings are coming up after finals. She gets the highest, hands down.

Finals…meh..*shudders*

I cannot wait till semester break. Feb 17th. Hopefully earlier, depending on when my final projects are due. Projects..*shudders again*…

Must get back to revising for test and doing other random shit.