Random Thoughts on Oblivion; and Other Such Cheery Topics

[Anita Blake]

adrift on the orange, glowing sonic waves of symphonic madness, like a caress of the sunset clouds.

send me sleep send me warmth send me love, but mostly send me music to glow by.

[Anita Blake]

there's a strange power forged in the heart of nutmeg, heating, warming, numbing, all over deliciousness. Combine with the cold, soulless sound of techno-dance music, and you have the makings of a strange, imminent emotion. Longing? Regret? Wistfulness for days gone by? Perhaps it is the realization that while the nutmeg warms the soul, the music is the reflection of what was there before the nutmeg: cold, empty ... filled with delicious beats and sounds, but ultimately empty and hollow.

look in the mirror and see that there is no reflection. The ancients believed that a creature with no soul would have no relection, no shadow, that our shadows and reflections were proof positive of our souls. That we are creatures of God. Animals and critters of course, have shadows, and souls, because they too are creatures of God, while those strange creatures we dare not name by the light of the moon for fear that they will come to gobble us up.

powerful magic is wrought by spices and sounds. the veil can be peeked through with the right combinations, but never really lifted. Feel your mind expand and contract with the music, as your blood boils with the spices, and know strange things that never before have occured to you, feel that for all the foreign heat now coursing through your veins, their natural state is closer to ice than fire. Your natural state is closer to ice than to fire, no matter what astrology tells you. You crave the heat, long to borrow the heat of those near you, even pray that one day the heat of others will melt that hardest lump of ice that is your heart, and hope one day to warm others. It's futile to try to warm others when you are made of snow. First you must melt, and then be warmed, until you, too, are one of the hot ones, ready to share your heat and bring others like you to life as well.

bring on the flames.

[Anita Blake]

Oh, women. How we love to make wild claims that Womanhood (or Womynhood, if you are THAT much of a feminist, you fucking freaks) is some sort of higher state of evolution, that to menstruate is to know the very meaning of life.

Well, perhaps we're not that far off. For i am pondering today the quirks and qualms of menstruation. Allow me to put it prosaically, and then perhaps it will be deemed Important.

Once, a month, my uterus says hello. It seems to have been afraid that in the intervening 4 weeks, I have forgotten it's presence. So it says hello in the most spectaular way it can imagine, it decides to tear out it's inside lining, and expel it through various canals inside my body. In order to make sure i get the message loud and clear, it decides to do all this as painfully as possible. "HELLO!!!! I'M HERE!!! DON'T FORGET ABOUT ME!"

Don't worry, Uterus. I know you are there. There's a good reason I'm not using you. You're not forgotten, you've been set aside for that magical day when i lose my mind and decide that this planet needs another human being, and that I should be the one to bring such a new human into the world. Your continued and painful reminder of your existence does one thing: it serves to keep me abreast of the shadow of what birth pain must feel like, and to tell the truth, you are not inspiring me to want children at all. Could you please stop shouting at me? Thank you ever so much. Here, have some ibuprofen. And chocolate, you like chocolate, don't you?

We must do things to pacify and ease our uteruses. Uteri? Whatever. The point is, the uterus is a cruel and jealous body part. It demands quite a lot of attention, and it does so like a spoiled child used to getting what it wants.

How to describe menstrual pain to someone who has never put more than a passing thought towards the subject? Hmm. Well. Imagine the area between your hips. Now, concentrate hard, and feel the centre of your abdomen cramping up in horrible pain. It's dull and yet strangely sharp at the same time. The only thing you can think of is that everything in between your hips has got to go, it's just too full and needs to be emptied ... IMMEDIATELY. Intestines, reproductive organs, digestive organs, muscles, it's all on sale, clearance, all items MUST SELL! Except, well, they can't all go. There's a limit on how much the human body will allow to escape, and sadly, everything that you want to vanish, if it were to vanish, it would probably kill you.

So, meanwhile, there's this part of you, the very centre of your being, that feels like it is dying, pieces of dead flesh falling off and out of you. The only thing you can think of is that you need someone to punch you in the belly to shake it all loose and just end the death cycle. Or maybe long, raking fingers to reach up inside you and gut you like a pumpkin.

And through all this, of course, you are at work, or in public, and you are expected to behave like a normal human being, not someone who feels like they are dying from the inside out. Oh, sure, there's some comfort in the fact that the pain will go away soon enough, in a day or two or three, or in knowing that the pain comes and goes in waves, but that is little comfort. Knowing that this pain is only a shade of what is intended, that the pain of birth can only be multitudes worse than this, in some ways only makes it worse. There is no escape from it, even should you be lucky enough to administer ibuprofen before the pain makes you wish for death, the feeling still remains, the sensation of evacuation, the nauseating way your abdomen feels bloated and filled with poison, like there is simply too much water in the universe and it's all residing in your body with no way out.

In short, being a woman is about pain. Suffering through intolerable pain because there's no other choice, because it's either that or die.

[Anita Blake]

roar. dull rage. slight sadness. feeling hollow and empty and cruel and cold and heartless. is this... my fault? perhaps. perhaps. but surely the blame does not lie singly with me. surely not. no. no no.

so tired. so very tired. mentally exhausted and physically ready to sleep. such is life.

[Anita Blake]

back. been away for a while. feel like i'm being spied upong. it's curious. anyhoo. life is a mess. can't wait for christmas to come and take me away to my home home, and then i can just put all this behind me, or actually, ahead of me, since i'll have to come back to much the same. but the christmas break will be good.

note to others: do not follow in my footsteps. it's not a good path to follow. trust me on this. learn form my mistakes, little chickens. i greatly enjoy calling people littel chickens in a fond and gentle way. Not calling them "chickens" like "cowards", but "chickens" like "duckling" or "kiddie" or "little 'uns" You know. Don't know why. Just am that way. Weird, huh?

So, maybe i just need to go away and calm the fuck down. Well, ok, i'm pretty calm right now, but i need to be around other calm people. Well, ok, most of the people i am around are pretty calm, pretty cool, pretty collected, but it's one of those cases of the vocal minority giving everyone else a bad name.

sooo fucking tired. like, it's as though everything that is happening in my life is manifesting itself in myself being superbly exhausted. It's amazing. Crazily, stupidly, amazing. wow. well then. ok.

ok. back to work.

[Anita Blake]

he makes me feel so strange, you know, like, well, i don't know. but as though there's something i'm missing. Some basic human charicteristic that until now i've never really known existed. But i can't quite put my finger on what it is. I wish i knew how i made him feel, what attracts him to me. I wish i knew who i was, i guess. It's frightening to look at myself and realize, the only thing i've ever really been afraid of is myself. I've never been afraid of someone else's void consuming me, only afriad to look up and realize that the void isn't consuming me, that it is me.

Things are so confusing right now. I want so many things. I want one thing. I want clarity. indeed. i've stopped smoking so much weed, and instead of clarity, i've been given a fog, as though the haze i walked through before was the clearest reality that existed, and now, without the purple haze, all is murky and unclear. Who knows what that means. All i know is, i'm too poor to afford such herbal remedies to my life, and anyways, some of the side effects were starting to get to me, like over anaylzing people and becoming far too judgemental in my own mind. Too judgemental of myself, perhaps.

That's what it really means to be judgemental, in effect. You're never really judging other people, merely judging yourself by projecting your own misgivings and wrongdoings on those around you. Sometimes on those you care about most, because you want to belive that they are better than you, but then you only see yourself in them. Does that make sense?

The days have been going by rapidly, my sense of self has been shifting, and i've been too exhausted and saturated by other people to really calm down and evaluate. and i guess that's what this is, evaluation. Funny to think that people i know and care about have read this thread, and then looked at me in a different light,a s though they never realized that i was really real. Perhaps i projected that. Sometimes, i don't really feel real. I feel like some creature created by a lonely man to fulfil his fantasies. I'm not saying that i'm some sort of ideal dream woman, but sometimes i feel that way.... like an ideal that has no bearing on reality. I don't meet other people who are just like me. There are no other people just like me. I don't fit into any one particular stereotype or archtype, i'm like a bunch of ideals all blended into one, and maybe that's just because that's who i am, someone who sees an ideal and tries to become that. I am a mimic. I try to emulate that which i desire. And in turn, i become little more than a random mish-mash of false ideals and romantic hopes and dreams.

None of this is where i was going. But since i no longer remember where i was going, i have to just let that go. that happens a lot. tangents. part of me i guess.

so, i read these words, and i think "is this who i am?" Are these words the definition of my self? No, no they're not really. Just a part of me. one tiny little part of me.

and then i think: maybe i should just go get some sleep.

and that's what i'll do.

[Anita Blake]

ack, eek, eep and RRAAHHH.

flipping people. damn you all!!!! why don't you pay attention to what we teach!!?! why don't you learn stuff?!!!! ARG. so now, when i have about 5 billiong things to do, i need to reteach stuff that people sould have already learned, and it's annoying because i just know that either i will end up having to do the work for them, or they will just not get it and screw it all up and i will have to spend the next 4 months hearing about how messed up their movies are.

please kill me now. or better yet, give me somethign to drink. that's it, tonight i am baking special cookies. very special cookies. hehehe.

[Anita Blake]

so, every day walking to work is like descending just a little deeper into madness. the chaos of my life is unbelieaveble. OK, and sure, yeah, i guess i shoudln't complain, i made my bed and now i have to lie in it, but then it turns out that some other people went and laid razor wire in my bed while i was making it, and i am only just now rolling over and being cut up by it. And my, how does that suck?

so here i am, stuck, waiting, waiting for 3 more days until i can go home and just fucking forget all this shit, just put it aside and think about something else. I just need to be alone for a little while, and then i go home and get yelled at for the same thing i've been getting yelled at for the past month. it's so exhausting, mentally, emotionally, physically. Like, i can't have a moment of happiness, because the second i do, i go home and have it ripped away and made to look ugly and cheap. I have my words thrown back at me, the things i have written used against me, and i guess i have no defense. I have done what i have done, i have made the choices i have made, and if i can learn to live with that, why can't he? I get told i am the most important person in the world in the same breath that i am told that what i have done is evil.

Well, in my defense, all i can say is this: i am who i am, and i have done what i have done. i have made choices in my mind because of what i felt in my heart. I have done nothing lightly, and i know that it causes immeasurable pain to someone i once held dear, but i can't focus on that, because if i focus on that, i will lose myself again.

and if i could do it all again, the only thing i would change is what i have told him: if i could change things, i would have never have told him i was seeing someone else. i would have been more secretive and hidden.

i come off as the bad guy in this situation, and that is terrible, because in my heart, i feel that i have only done what i had to do. i have done nothing with spite, and i have done nothing out of malice. Mistakes, i have certainly made, but i resent having those mistakes continually thrown at me and i resent being told that i planned to make the mistakes i made, that i did them out of malice, and that i deliberately tried to hurt him.

i want so badly to move on, and yet i am being held, my wings pinned, my cage being soldered shut. let me out. let me be free. let me fly away.

let this week be over soon.

[Anita Blake]

blah blah etcetera blah. ok. so i was sitting there, reading james' last few reflections and being totally blown away with a resonance to what i have been feeling but not precisesly articulating in the same way. nifteroo. i was thinking that, yeah, people who read this probably know me more than people who know me intimately, but at the same, while some of my deepest and most innermost thoughts and the key to my deep, inner self, are here on display, when i walk around in the street and talk to people and hang out with my friends, my deepest innermost self is not who they know. i mean, sure they get glimpses, but our selves are only a part of ourselves.

and that's when i realized,

... the cookie ... has... hit ... me...

ahh, delicious eggnog-tasting cookies with magical powers to assist me in seeing the unseen.

well, so much for depth and wisdom, huh?

my ex-bf moved out. what do you know? kinda weird here without him. there's a big empty hole in the living room where the computer desk used to be. i'm pretty sure it was my desk. i mean, my old roommate left it behind, but i had always claimed it as mine, but he took it with him when he left. oh well. no big. i do have my own desk, but, uh, well... my roomate's using it right now in his room, so internet time is kind of painful as it consists of my laptop sitting on a kitchen chair andme sitting on a really low stool hunching over said laptop. stupid piece of crap. anyhoo.... well....

tomorrow i go back to work and back to the "real world". my holidays were great, i felt like i found a big piece of me that had been hiding in my mind. the prairie me. the country me, as opposed to this new, urban me. but in some crappy chick flick, this kind of revelation would have been followed by the need for me to make a choice. like, go back to my roots and realize that everything i'd done since was fake and i shoudl return to my roots because that's honest and true. But life's not like that, see, because what happens is, you go back to your roots, and go "man, i was so happy once, when this was me" nad maybe feel a little disapointed or morally uptight about your new life, but then you realize that there are things wrong with your "roots" too, and accept that while where you come from is an important part of who you are, it is just a part of who you are and will always be with you, and always has been. ad then continue with, not your "new" life, but with the liveyou've always been living.

'cause, see, we only live once. there is no 'old' life and no 'new' life, just one big long life with lots of stages of development.

anyhoo. so, that's what i got from my trip back home. a grand epiphany and the revelation that my life isn't fake and bad. it's good and fun and i enjoy it.

the end.

[Anita Blake]

well. there you have it. that time and space again where things seem to be. hmm. whodathunk it. well, i'm here, and i've made this tiny resolution, you see, this resolution to write something everyday. I mean, i know i write on the quill a lot, but it's not the same.... but it's a start. it's something. Now i seem to have all this time at home to myself, so i might as well use it productively. It's better, and cheaper, and less fattening, than cooking everything i have in my kitchen, which is what i'm more likely to do with my time if given free reign and unlimited ingredients. However, since i'm trying to control the limit i eat as a food-crazed north american, trying to become one of the minority in the healthy-weight division, here i sit, writing.

but damn, now i've gone and started this all wrong, becasue you see, i wanted to write a story, or somethign resembling a story, but here i have gone and written a journal entry enstead. well. dear diary: you suck. You just stole my ideas. the end.

ok, well, not really the end, though, since i'm quite obviously still here, writing. This wasn't exactly what i had in mind, so maybe i should just start all over again. Perhaps i will.l

But that brings me to a point, which is that some people i've talked to tell me how if they write something they hate they just delete it or throw it awway and move on. I don't know if that's a good thing to do or a bad thing to do. I certainly could not do it. I need to know that i can come back to it one day to be reminded of what i was thinking, what i was doing. you know. just because. i have a bad memory, and i need as many reminders of what i was thinking as possilble. so, with that in mind, i'm going to shut this off and do something else. i don't quite know what yet, because i haven't planned that far ahead, but it will be something. I'd like to think it will be somethign better than sitting on my couch wondering what to do now. i hate doing that. it's such a waste. unfortunately, i seem to do that a lot. so maybe i should just do somethign and worry about planning it all out later. i don't really believe in plans much. they never really do much for me. well. ok, off i go then. hoorah! watch me.

~runs away~

[Anita Blake]

well well well. we come again to this place, this convergence of mind and words and thoughts and time and space and something else that may or may not be spaghetti sauce. hmm. what do you know.

some things never change. some things change a great deal. some anxieties never leave you, even though you thought you grew up and out of that, all that really happened was that your circumstances changed and certain anxieties were removed from your life. Well, then circumstances change again, and you find that the same old anxieties plague you, that the same old insecurities never really went away, they just went on hiatus, and now they're back and ready to do the job. And the job they have to do? Make sure that you can't live without their nagging fears and doubts.

I swear, there is a part of my mind that I would love to tackle with a ninja sword and obliterate deftly. Because there is a part of my mind that is a terrible creeping force, it attacks in the most subtle and deadly ways, weakening me beyond belief. I want to be strong, I want to be carefree, but that ninja-mind, it tells me that what I think is carefree and strong is actually stupid and weak. It turns me against myself, you see, and that's one dragon I'd love to slay.

Anger and fear, so seductive with their song of "just being realistic, love". I don't like their reality, I really don't. Because in their reality, I am nothing to anyone, and never will be. Can that be so? Can that be true? And don't I give them power by even entertaining a question like that?

So funny, sometimes, some things, so cruelly, sadistically hilarious. Like a man dying of thirst in the middle of a freshwater lake, thinking it's the sea.

And through it all some kind of golden thread, so thin, so faint, nealy invisible, really, trying vainly to lead me through this minotaur's maze that I suspect is nothing more than my own mind.

[Anita Blake]

just relax. take a deep breath, sit back, and relax. let the wind caress your face the way it when you were a child, and just breathe.

just breathe.

you are stronger than you let yourself believe, and you are greater than anyone has ever let you know. fear nothing, and let the wind take you where it may.

this world is beyond your concerns, so let it drift free with your mind, let it float away, let it be gone from you.

just breathe.

just fucking breathe.

one breath after another, one ragged inhalation preceding the next, and then translate that oxygen into movement, step by step, and move, just move, keep walking away, just keep walking.

there is no end to this. there is no beginning. ourobouros, end and beginning the same, world without end, amen.

just breathe. exhale. inhale. this is breath. this is the beginning. this is the end. the is the everything, the eventuality, the inevitability, the clarity, the confusion, the indecision, the justice, the all.

just breathe, and don't think about anything i've said here. don't think.

just breathe.

[Anita Blake]

making resolutions and sticking to them is difficult, i've discovered, but it helps a lot when y ou don't subscribe to cable television. Having 5 seasons of Buffy on DVD does hinder the effort a little, though not as much as full cable.


so, i'm waiting. waiting waiting waiting. what am i waiting for? An acceptable time for me to leave work, that's what i'm waiting for. It's funny, if you put off lunch long enough, you stop being hungry. i haven't yet decided if that's a good thing. probably not but ~shrug~ .

So, i'm bored, and not really hungry, but hungry, and i need to get some loonies for laundry. i think i just like saying "loonies for laundry". It's fun. try it. Now, if you're not canadian, or familiar with canadian currency, you might think i am loony. But no, i insist. A loonie is a $1 coin. It's gold-ish. And it has a picture of a loon, which is a type of bird, on it. And the queen of england too, but we ignore that. Anyway, so we call the dollar the loonie, because of the loon on the coin. and we have no $1 bill anymore. Only the loonie. And my laundry machines only accept loonies and quarters, and thusly, i must get loonies for laundry. But it sounds kind of like some sort of marathon. Like i'll run around the city in a purple polka-dotted tutu getting pledges for the poor, laundry-deprived residents of Laundronia, gathering loonies for them so that they too can have clean clothes.

I like clean clothes. I find them so clean. And clothey. They cover my hideously malformed body and smell nice too. hoorah! hoorah for laundry! What kind of loser does their laundry on friday night? Me, that's what kind.

I am dying of boredom. dying i tell you. every day, i go home, and have nothing to do, no where to go. except laundry, of course. there's always sweet laundry. Laundry never lets me down. Laundry never says mean things to me and hits me (except sheets... those things can be rather nasty!). well, now i've gone and given the impression that i am beaten, and my only comfort in life is my laundry, which is only humorous because of it's complete fallacy. Actually, i guess it's not that humorous. But it is false. So don't get worried.

I think that the lack of food has made me loony. Loony for laundry, that is. ha ha. umm. ok. well, uh,

the end.

[Anita Blake]

I looked in the mirror this morning, and what i saw confirmed something i've been feeling over the past little while. It was surprising, but pleasantly so.

I've been losing weight for the last little while, and adjusting to various changes in my life, and though my life no longer resembles in any way the life i used to lead, i now look the way i did 3 years ago. Well, i look about 3 years older, but i look like me. I feel like me.

Comfort does not suit me well. I become a person i do not recognize when i am too comfortable. When i am bored, lonely, uncertain, then i feel like me. This solitude suits me. Feeling like i have to discover everything anew.

I feel like i've found myself. I feel like i know myself again, in that i still haven't the slightest clue about anything. My world feels like it's falling into place, i'm falling into place, and while nothing is perfect or really the way it should be, that's exactly as it should be.

In short, i'm feeling pretty good right about now. I feel strong and confident, beautiful and free, powerful and with limitless possibilities. I hope i can hold onto this surety of self, this sensation of power and control over my life. I think that the key to that is being single. Or perhaps only loosely attached to someone.

That does sort of make me fear that I'll never again be able to be close to somene, ever able to marry or have a serious relationship, but, knowing myself the way I now do, I know that I'll manage to screw this up and fall for someone, sooner or later. I crave attention and closeness like water. It's just not very good for me, that's all. It feeds another side of me, a different part of me who I haven't yet come to understand, i guess. All in good time. I'm feeling like i have the time to discover that person, but not until I'm completely finished discovering this me. the single me.

the isolated me.

[Anita Blake]

Well, i have to say, i feel like about the luckiest person in the universe. I mean, not just winning a vacation, just... my whole life has been so incredibly blessed. I mean, i used to think i had a pretty rough life, but of course, that was when i was an angsty teen, and now, looking back at my life, at me, i am forced to conclude that there must be some huge karmic retribution coming my way, because, man, what a great life. I know it's going to have to be balanced out with something phenomenally bad. Well, no, there has been some pretty bad stuff in my life, but the point is, looking at the broad strokes of my life.... it's been great. I mean, i was born lucky.... got the good end of my family's genes - kinda pretty, nice teeth, missed the alcoholic gene (thank god!). And a lot of good things tend to happen to me. I'm pretty sure i don't deserve a lot of the good stuff that happens to me, so I am forced to call it luck. Like, when i was really broke, a savings bond matured at the same time, so i had money. And when i really wanted to get away from my life, i won a scholarship to go to film school. Every time life has looked really bad, something good has happened to make all the badness go away. And now i've won this vacation, which is super cool. So, in conclusion, my life is far better than i deserve, and i'm not complaining, just very, very grateful. I don't think i'll ever win the lottery, because it seems that life just sort of gets me what i need to move on to the next thing, and if i need a million dollars, chances are, i'll be given the means to make it.

So, this is the reason i trust in fate. Some would say they trust in god to give them what they need, but i say the universe, or fate. It's all the same anyway, in my mind. We all have our own definitions of god. It's funny, in some ways, i have some very Christian ideas about life, or at least ideas that i know i got from when i was a Christian, but without the dogma. I think i live like a good christian should, i just don't happen to particularly believe in jesus. Ironic, huh? I can imagine that someone will want to point out the intense fallacy of that, but i can't help it. I do think that. Except for the stuff about no sex before you're married. Hehe. Definitely not a believer in that one.

anyhoo... that strayed afield of what i was trying to say, which is that man, do i ever love life. I can think of one person who would read that and go "great, she ruins my life and now she loves hers..." Well... i love my life, not necessarily everything i've done in it. And anyway, i think he might be better off without me.... maybe a bit less happy, but hopefully better off, more motivated to do the things that really matter, rather than just enjoying the radiance of my presence j/k . Anyhoo..... i hope this reflection makes at least one person (any of you, really!) take a look at their own lives and see the good. I can't honestly be the only person with a semi-charmed life. I'd feel really, really bad if i was, because i think everyone has reasons to be happy. Everyone should love their life.... if only because it's theirs . In summation: don't be haters!

much to all.