Monday, April 11, 2005

But I won't cry for yesterday, there's an ordinary world somehow I have to find, and as I try to make my way to the ordinary world I will learn to survive . . . .
*clicks heels together* There is no conspiracy to ignore me, there is no conspiracy to ignore me . . . .

Sometimes I am so silly I shock myself.

I have failed in my life enough times that picking up the peices seems natural. My Mom tells me that she admires how nothing phases me for long but I feel that is a symptom of my illness. After all, you do what you have to right?

Looking at that paragraph it occurs to me that I'm belittling my accomplishments again. There is nothing wrong with recognising your successes, even though it isn't considered 'proper' to do so in this society.

Societal norms are overrated anyway. I rarely fulfill them and why should I feel beholden to do so?

I'm thinking of writing a book. Just a crap romance, but then they're the easiest ways to earn a living with my pen. That's one of the reasons I'm doing this journal. I feel that if I make myself write everyday then this book thing will be easier . . . going to start after my exams though.

I am miss being half of a couple. It's been so long since I've felt this way, and frankly I hope it passes soon.

*sigh*

I remember so clearly the way it feels to have warm skin against my own, someone else's breathe ruffling my hair. The smell of a man. The feel of hands on my bare arms. My roommate has been really physically affectionate since I lost my job, probably she can sense that I crave the contact, but it isn't quite the same.

I do very much enjoy the independence of being single however. Plus there isn't anyone nearby I want to be with right now.

I suppose it would take someone really special to keep up with me, I can be a difficult person to be with. Demanding affection and then pushing the person away when I get antsy. I want to be independent, yet I crave someone to depend on. At least I know have some idea about how exactly to go about having a healthy relationship. It is hard, but worth it. And I know what I want, not just a friend, but someone who 'completes' me. That's sounds really hokey, but that's the way I feel. I want a relationship that will never degenerate into 'we live in the same house but have different lives'. Though according to my courtship and marriage class that is the most common kind.

I refuse to settle!!!!

I don't care if people think my standards are too high, I would rather be alone than settle for second best, it wouldn't be fair to either of us.
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Blame it on the rain
Went to bed last night determined that today I would Get Things Done; woke up this morning and it was raining. The true test of a Pegger; we laugh at snow and scoff at sub-zero temperature, but make it rain and we wilt.

But I will Get Things Done nevertheless; I may just revise my plans an eensy teensy bit.

Mrp, I am in a strange mood, not melancholy or depressed, but not paticularly cheerful either. Yesterday afternoon I jaunted around town in a daze of delight, if there is any such thing. I felt sure all was right in my world, but today I'm not so sure.

Well, we shall see as the day goes on . . . .
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Sunday, April 10, 2005

Do you believe in what you see, motionless wheel, nothing is real
I don't want to go today, I am so tired. Once again stayed up till all hours. Sleep is so elusive.

And the world seems unreal . . . .

I wonder if anyone can figure out what songs my subjects come from. If you can I commend you, I listen to a lot of weird stuff. Meat Beat Manifesto anyone?

Amazing how one person can change the way you listen so much. My ex, whom I haven't been with for years, listened to some weird shit. He spread it to me as well. Though it doesn't seem fair to me, the attitude that if something is popular it is automatically bad.

Boy bands would be the exception to this I suppose . . . .

I swear my roommate and I act like we're dating. We have all these inside jokes, it's baffling to others. Like if I mention Mulians and she calls me a tomatolian. Weird.

Not that my life is anything but weird . . . .
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Still I can't escape the ghost of you . . . .
Ah the joys of the online journal. Hmm, what to write what to write. What are these things for anyway? Are we all exhibitionists or narcicists, or do we actually have something to say? I guess it would be a little from all three of those columns. Though I suppose that everyone has something to get off their chest on occasion.

I wonder what makes people stay or leave. It seems sometimes that I'm always chasing after people or maybe I just think that I should see/talk to people more often than others think is appropriate. Thinking back I marvel over all the friends I've lost in the course of my life. It can be hard to remember these people, sitting here thinking about Elysse or Sarah or any of the others. Some of these people I still miss while others I know I can do without. Strangely enough I still care about the them all, even the ones who hurt me. I don't thing this is a sign that I am a loving person, I think it's more of a drive to have to the good opinion of everyone I meet.

I wish I had that trick of not caring what people think of me. I'm good at saying it and stubbornly remaining myself no matter what, but sometimes I feel that inside I'm still a little girl who is longing for somone to hold her.

I've learned a lot of hard lessons in my life, but the most difficult, and the one I still haven't grasped is knowing which parts of me I need to change to become someone who moves easily through life and which parts I need to hold onto to remain 'me'.

And how do we decide who we are in the first place? Sure I can see and touch my body, but what about the more ephemeral parts of me? How do I define what they are when I still have trouble defining where I end and other people begin. Sometimes I feel as though I'm a sponge, just absorbing the traits of the people around me. This is something I definitely don't do as much as I used to, but that sense of loss of self is still omnipresent in my life. Wouldn't it be nice if we came with operating manuals.

Ahh, good old existential angst. I feel so self-indulgent, pouring these thoughts onto, well not paper really, as if they mean something. I never could draw or write without feeling that I was imposing on the world by doing something that I wasn't perfect at. But there's that saying, if only the most talented birds sang the forests woould be silent. I suppose I should take this to heart; after all, who am I to say I'm not good enough.

I wonder if you, my elusive reader, has ever realised how differently life appears to other people. I sometimes have troubling grasping the concept that people don't feel the same as I do about things or that they could have different priorities. Things can have totally different interpretations depending on who's looking.

Well, I think it may be time to wrap this up, I seem to have been doing this for a while. Well, I hope people respond to my introspective flight of fancy, I could use the feedback, though I'd appreciate it if you left the negative to a minimum.

Ja ne . . . .
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