I did it. I finally wrote it all down in my journal. That only took me three months to do...
I wrote some in the airport when I was about to fly to Washington. Then I managed to write some more in the beginning of February, but not much. And now, now, after almost five hours of writing tonight, I have finished with it.
This particular demon is now as "laid to rest" as it can ever be for me.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Two Years Ago
Tonight, I looked over my old blog and I found the entry from exactly two years ago today. I can hardly believe that it was two years ago--I remember that day so vividly. A million things have happened since then, it feels like an age ago already, but how can it be two years? I remember feeling so detached from the world that night and I suddenly decided to write a dream down from earlier that week. And I remember this dream so, so well (this is copied exactly as I wrote it back then):
The deepest, clearest blue. Before my eyes, uplifting and effacing everything in its glory. The cool glass that lies between me and its presence is an eternal barrier. I will never reach through and melt into its pure hue. Every atom of my being aches to disappear in its embrace, but the cold glass will never permit this quenching. I am doomed to see and never touch, to yearn and never experience. The world lies forever in front of me, the past haunts my thoughts, and I am alone.
He’s in the other room, the one that faces west with the view of the lake and the dying sun, its light shifting into its last burning shades. All too soon, the night encompasses the world in its tones of darkest blue and sheltering black. Yet the door stays closed. There are other windows, leaving the room exposed from my position; I could see into the room if I wish, but I will not turn away from the wonder of my own blue light, somehow still thriving in the courtyard. This is my place. And I cannot move from it.
The door opens. Footsteps approach. The air feels cleaner, I breathe more easily. He stands to my right, at the other edge of the vast window, too far away. I cannot reach him. I gaze at him, but he does not turn. His face is hardened, his person inapproachable. The blue has swept him away, even as he stands, and he will not see me. I look back towards the blue out the window, feeling inexplicably cold and desperate. This was never for me, just as he never was for me. But I still cannot move. Never.
Two years. God.
I want to try to keep a dream diary again. Dreams have always fascinated me. There are so many that I can still remember because I wrote them down. Some strange and sinister, some delicate and beautiful, some flat out horrific, all of them inexplicable, but I'm glad that I have them. They came from my own mind. So, that's my new resolution.
The deepest, clearest blue. Before my eyes, uplifting and effacing everything in its glory. The cool glass that lies between me and its presence is an eternal barrier. I will never reach through and melt into its pure hue. Every atom of my being aches to disappear in its embrace, but the cold glass will never permit this quenching. I am doomed to see and never touch, to yearn and never experience. The world lies forever in front of me, the past haunts my thoughts, and I am alone.
He’s in the other room, the one that faces west with the view of the lake and the dying sun, its light shifting into its last burning shades. All too soon, the night encompasses the world in its tones of darkest blue and sheltering black. Yet the door stays closed. There are other windows, leaving the room exposed from my position; I could see into the room if I wish, but I will not turn away from the wonder of my own blue light, somehow still thriving in the courtyard. This is my place. And I cannot move from it.
The door opens. Footsteps approach. The air feels cleaner, I breathe more easily. He stands to my right, at the other edge of the vast window, too far away. I cannot reach him. I gaze at him, but he does not turn. His face is hardened, his person inapproachable. The blue has swept him away, even as he stands, and he will not see me. I look back towards the blue out the window, feeling inexplicably cold and desperate. This was never for me, just as he never was for me. But I still cannot move. Never.
Two years. God.
I want to try to keep a dream diary again. Dreams have always fascinated me. There are so many that I can still remember because I wrote them down. Some strange and sinister, some delicate and beautiful, some flat out horrific, all of them inexplicable, but I'm glad that I have them. They came from my own mind. So, that's my new resolution.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
"The arms of the ocean, so cold and so sweet"
"Never Let Me Go" by Florence + the Machine. I love her obsession with water and drowning. Her voice is amazing. And I can't stop watching it! I love that the ice rink represents the ocean, that she's remembering even as she's drowning. The contrast between her smile and her singing-scream just kills me. And, yes, that is Jamie Campbell Bower.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Bad Habit
And here I am again. I live for posting things! However, for the past couple of weeks, I have been trying to not post anything on Facebook, at least. It's a stupid compulsion to post the song that defines my current mood or emotional state, or to share every beautiful or worthy thing I live for or have recently discovered. No one is looking, besides my family. I do want to share everything, and it's so much easier when it can be done in a impersonal, indirect kind of way, and at least this way, posting these compulsions on my blog, I won't embarrass myself. Only my family and Russians (huge fans of my blog...apparently) will see these.
Anyways. I was listening to the soundtrack of the film Atonement just now and suddenly wanted to hear all the words from the track, "Elegy for Dunkirk." The words are from an actual hymn, which, in turn, come from a Quaker's poem, John Greenleaf Whittier's "Dear Lord and Father of Mankind."
In the movie, this track is played during an incredibly long shot of wounded soldiers waiting on a beach, hoping that help will come by sea. It shows one of the characters wandering the beach; he passes a group of men singing the hymn and their voices fade away as the camera and the character move away, synced into the soundtrack. It's really, really beautiful, just as the entire movie is. The film is adapted from one of my favorite books. Ian McEwan is the author, and he is like a modern, concise Virginia Woolf. It's beautiful, beautiful writing.
So, here's the song. Below are the lyrics (not the whole poem!) sung towards the middle of the track.
Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
Till all our strivings cease;
Take from our souls the strain and stress,
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace.
Breathe through the heats of our desire
Thy coolness and Thy balm;
Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;
Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
O still, small voice of calm!
Anyways. I was listening to the soundtrack of the film Atonement just now and suddenly wanted to hear all the words from the track, "Elegy for Dunkirk." The words are from an actual hymn, which, in turn, come from a Quaker's poem, John Greenleaf Whittier's "Dear Lord and Father of Mankind."
In the movie, this track is played during an incredibly long shot of wounded soldiers waiting on a beach, hoping that help will come by sea. It shows one of the characters wandering the beach; he passes a group of men singing the hymn and their voices fade away as the camera and the character move away, synced into the soundtrack. It's really, really beautiful, just as the entire movie is. The film is adapted from one of my favorite books. Ian McEwan is the author, and he is like a modern, concise Virginia Woolf. It's beautiful, beautiful writing.
So, here's the song. Below are the lyrics (not the whole poem!) sung towards the middle of the track.
Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
Till all our strivings cease;
Take from our souls the strain and stress,
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace.
Breathe through the heats of our desire
Thy coolness and Thy balm;
Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;
Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
O still, small voice of calm!
Final Fantasy and Fruits Basket
Had another stinging dream last night. Can't they just stop?!!!!!!!!!
Last night, I discovered the music tracks from the old 1994 game of Final Fantasy III (SNES), or, rather, Final Fantasy VI as it is now known, all up on Youtube! They may not seem like much on a first, random listen, but as a child, the music of this game defined the characters, their tragic pasts, and their personalities. It brings back tons of memories for me. So, I'm putting up a few favorites.
Celes's Theme--my favorite character.Who can forget the suicide scene?
There's tons more, but I think I've already exposed enough of my nerdiness.
The other thing I did last night was to start to watch Fruits Basket again, an anime series I found back in freshman year. I'm not really an anime nut, but I can't help liking this series, even though it is over the top and silly. I just love Kyo, the cat, with his insane temper and random cursing. So funny.
Last night, I discovered the music tracks from the old 1994 game of Final Fantasy III (SNES), or, rather, Final Fantasy VI as it is now known, all up on Youtube! They may not seem like much on a first, random listen, but as a child, the music of this game defined the characters, their tragic pasts, and their personalities. It brings back tons of memories for me. So, I'm putting up a few favorites.
Celes's Theme--my favorite character.Who can forget the suicide scene?
Forever Rachel--when Rachel releases Locke from his obligation and dies
Coin Song--Edgar and Sabin!!Cyan's Theme--his entire family was poisoned by the Emperor and Kefka. He is one epic warrior.
My personal favorite Boss Fight theme. ;)
Dark World--after the world has been mostly destroyed and all hope is lost. This has always been my favorite track. Oh, desolation.
There's tons more, but I think I've already exposed enough of my nerdiness.
The other thing I did last night was to start to watch Fruits Basket again, an anime series I found back in freshman year. I'm not really an anime nut, but I can't help liking this series, even though it is over the top and silly. I just love Kyo, the cat, with his insane temper and random cursing. So funny.
Monday, March 5, 2012
"If you twist and turn away, if you tear yourself in two, again..."
Time stands still in this house.On the surface. My life here has followed the same pattern it has since Christmas. But then I think over what's happened and realize that it is moving too fast. I can't believe it's March already.
There are a few things to report. Found out this past week from my step-dad in a nice confrontation (you know how much I just LOVE those...) that it was incredibly naive of me to assume I could stay here for long. Although he and my mom let Nikki stick around for almost two years total, he's expecting me to move out as soon as I've found a job, bought a car, and saved enough to move out, which won't take long. Read out like this, I know it's only logical. It just never had occured to me that they, or rather, he wanted me out as soon as I can manage it. And it all was coming from him. When, two months ago, they were so excited to have me, bought me a freaking bookcase to accomodate all my junk, hung up pictures, etc.
Of course, I overreacted to this sudden announcement, but my response was tied into what he had said before throwing this at me. He first shot down my future plans that he demanded to hear: get a job, volunteer at a library, and try for the Master's Program next year at UW. Without any helpful suggestions, except for the statement that I had screwed up by graduating with a Humanities degree, and an facial expression that declared, "Is that it? You expect to succeed as a human being with that kind of plan?" I was furious with him. And he was being so hostile, and lying through his teeth about just "wanting to get me on my feet" when he said I needed to get out. My presence aggravates him here, I know. We have nothing in common and he doesn't feel needed because we never really talk. He may have been my step-dad for two years when I was a teenager, but we were never close. He was just the man my mom married really quickly after my parents' divorce, who talked a lot and didn't really listen. And we've hardly talked at all since I took off for college, so, honestly, we don't have much of a relationship. I'll admit, I haven't tried. He aggravates me too. The way he constantly goes after my mom about religion, as if he could ever persuade her to go against it, infuriates me. After seven years, can't he just agree to disagree and quit passing judgments?! It's not like my mom EVER makes fun of his beliefs, his obsession with out-of-body experiments, ghosts, sixth senses, reincarnation, or...ancient aliens. Honestly. She'll listen to his neverending monologues and try to understand, without calling any names. She'll read the books he suggests and give her opinions without shooting him down. He could at least do the same thing for her.
God, I mean, he told me back when I got here in December that he would support me whichever way I chose with Mormonism, but in the same breath implied that I would be a fool to follow it. So freaking transparent, it made me sick. Really, would he really support me if I chose the thing he enjoys to paint black? I hate liars.
I feel like this whole entry so far is a bit confusing, and way too personal. I shouldn't be writing about any of this here. But it's so much easier to type than to write it down in my journal. So, to all my sisters and mom, the only ones who look at this thing, well...I'm sorry. We each have our own opinions, and most of you already know how I feel about this topic, but it goes without saying...DON'T BRING THIS UP ANYWHERE NEAR BILL.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I needed a minute or two to calm down. Hah. Actually, it was twenty. Managed by Bono's healing/sexy voice and lyrics. Mhmm.
While Ultra Violet blares, I'll continue. Been applying to jobs, slowly, but surely. Now that I feel comfortable behind the wheel and have a desire to get out of bed (yes, it's been an interesting couple of months, but this I will not divulge), in addition to this nice hot poker now pointing at my back, I am actually trying. There is no greater incentive for me to open my arms to change than the knowledge that I'm a nuisance or burden on someone else. And, honestly, I know I have been and still am. Until I find a job. Time just flew in my dark cloud, even as it dragged. God, how it dragged.
Alright, alright, no more of that. Filed my taxes this past week, started applying for jobs, got my Washington Driver's license and man, does it feel good to be driving again. I still can't get over it, that freedom and control. Feels good.
Been reading Dracula and laughing over the drama. In its historical context, I am sure it was terrifying. And I do love that the book is a compilation of letters, telegrams, newspaper clippings, and journal entries. I really enjoy books that give more than one character's perspective. And, Char, I have come around to the movie. Completely. I guess I don't always see the glory of things at first glance; some things have to grow on me a little before I can fully appreciate them, and this movie has. And I'm a bit obsessed with Gary Oldman now.
Keith Gravley made it out of the hospital a while back, after several close calls, but it looks like he will be going back in soon. Honestly, it sounds like his heart is just not going to make it. If he has to go back to the hospital, they are pretty dang sure that they are going to have to do another heart valve replacement, and when that happens, he WILL be put on the heart donor list, because his heart will not last long after that. Right now, at home, he can barely walk across a room without sitting back down. He can't work. And the fluid is building up again in his lungs and around his heart. It doesn't look good. Julie says that he probably won't last out the year. It's so, so awful.
"If I could, through myself, set your spirit free, I'd lead your heart away, see you break, break away, into the light and to the day." Guess what I'm listening to? Only one of my favorite U2 songs. Alright, it's bedtime...or perhaps watch-a-movie-for-no-reason time. Yikes.
There are a few things to report. Found out this past week from my step-dad in a nice confrontation (you know how much I just LOVE those...) that it was incredibly naive of me to assume I could stay here for long. Although he and my mom let Nikki stick around for almost two years total, he's expecting me to move out as soon as I've found a job, bought a car, and saved enough to move out, which won't take long. Read out like this, I know it's only logical. It just never had occured to me that they, or rather, he wanted me out as soon as I can manage it. And it all was coming from him. When, two months ago, they were so excited to have me, bought me a freaking bookcase to accomodate all my junk, hung up pictures, etc.
Of course, I overreacted to this sudden announcement, but my response was tied into what he had said before throwing this at me. He first shot down my future plans that he demanded to hear: get a job, volunteer at a library, and try for the Master's Program next year at UW. Without any helpful suggestions, except for the statement that I had screwed up by graduating with a Humanities degree, and an facial expression that declared, "Is that it? You expect to succeed as a human being with that kind of plan?" I was furious with him. And he was being so hostile, and lying through his teeth about just "wanting to get me on my feet" when he said I needed to get out. My presence aggravates him here, I know. We have nothing in common and he doesn't feel needed because we never really talk. He may have been my step-dad for two years when I was a teenager, but we were never close. He was just the man my mom married really quickly after my parents' divorce, who talked a lot and didn't really listen. And we've hardly talked at all since I took off for college, so, honestly, we don't have much of a relationship. I'll admit, I haven't tried. He aggravates me too. The way he constantly goes after my mom about religion, as if he could ever persuade her to go against it, infuriates me. After seven years, can't he just agree to disagree and quit passing judgments?! It's not like my mom EVER makes fun of his beliefs, his obsession with out-of-body experiments, ghosts, sixth senses, reincarnation, or...ancient aliens. Honestly. She'll listen to his neverending monologues and try to understand, without calling any names. She'll read the books he suggests and give her opinions without shooting him down. He could at least do the same thing for her.
God, I mean, he told me back when I got here in December that he would support me whichever way I chose with Mormonism, but in the same breath implied that I would be a fool to follow it. So freaking transparent, it made me sick. Really, would he really support me if I chose the thing he enjoys to paint black? I hate liars.
I feel like this whole entry so far is a bit confusing, and way too personal. I shouldn't be writing about any of this here. But it's so much easier to type than to write it down in my journal. So, to all my sisters and mom, the only ones who look at this thing, well...I'm sorry. We each have our own opinions, and most of you already know how I feel about this topic, but it goes without saying...DON'T BRING THIS UP ANYWHERE NEAR BILL.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I needed a minute or two to calm down. Hah. Actually, it was twenty. Managed by Bono's healing/sexy voice and lyrics. Mhmm.
While Ultra Violet blares, I'll continue. Been applying to jobs, slowly, but surely. Now that I feel comfortable behind the wheel and have a desire to get out of bed (yes, it's been an interesting couple of months, but this I will not divulge), in addition to this nice hot poker now pointing at my back, I am actually trying. There is no greater incentive for me to open my arms to change than the knowledge that I'm a nuisance or burden on someone else. And, honestly, I know I have been and still am. Until I find a job. Time just flew in my dark cloud, even as it dragged. God, how it dragged.
Alright, alright, no more of that. Filed my taxes this past week, started applying for jobs, got my Washington Driver's license and man, does it feel good to be driving again. I still can't get over it, that freedom and control. Feels good.
Been reading Dracula and laughing over the drama. In its historical context, I am sure it was terrifying. And I do love that the book is a compilation of letters, telegrams, newspaper clippings, and journal entries. I really enjoy books that give more than one character's perspective. And, Char, I have come around to the movie. Completely. I guess I don't always see the glory of things at first glance; some things have to grow on me a little before I can fully appreciate them, and this movie has. And I'm a bit obsessed with Gary Oldman now.
Keith Gravley made it out of the hospital a while back, after several close calls, but it looks like he will be going back in soon. Honestly, it sounds like his heart is just not going to make it. If he has to go back to the hospital, they are pretty dang sure that they are going to have to do another heart valve replacement, and when that happens, he WILL be put on the heart donor list, because his heart will not last long after that. Right now, at home, he can barely walk across a room without sitting back down. He can't work. And the fluid is building up again in his lungs and around his heart. It doesn't look good. Julie says that he probably won't last out the year. It's so, so awful.
"If I could, through myself, set your spirit free, I'd lead your heart away, see you break, break away, into the light and to the day." Guess what I'm listening to? Only one of my favorite U2 songs. Alright, it's bedtime...or perhaps watch-a-movie-for-no-reason time. Yikes.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Pipes and Whistles
I spent part of this evening watching one of my favorite movies from when I was a kid: The Secret of Roan Inish. It's set in Ireland during the forties or thereabouts, following the story of a girl and the history of her family, which is a strange blend of fact and myth. I love it. Especially the music that comes from this movie. All of it, as far as I am aware, was composed by Mason Daring, but I can't say for sure if any of the music is traditional. Here are a few of my favorite tracks:
Fiona's Walk
Fiona
Fiona's Walk
Fiona Explores
Return to Roan Inish
Fiona
The Roan Inish Theme
And here's the trailer for the film, if anyone's interested:
Friday, February 24, 2012
One More Backward Glance/Ramblings
Sometimes, I feel absolutely capable of finding my way. The certainty is brief, fleeting, but it's a wonderful moment, like when I find a new and exciting job oppurtunity (like being a Library Tech at Crater Lake National Park). And somehow the possibilities of my future that range out in front of me in those swift moments are endless, but at the same time they're not terrifying (as they usually are to me), they're achieveable. But only for a moment. The assurance, the absolute certainty disappears.
This week, I have been down in the dumps to an alarming degree, believing myself to be incompetent, worthless, and filled with regret, all the usual symptoms. And I still feel all of those things, of course. It's always in the back of my mind, a lifelong habit; I'm always looking backwards. And I'll admit that last year, 2011, was the worst year of my life. Despite how difficult it was for me to get through, it is very, very hard to let go of all the things that happened, or, even worse, what could have happened. Regrets are such awful, taunting demons. But I'm working on it.
I feel like I'm in limbo right now. A state of transition. Except I'm not helping myself move forward. I put so much of myself into the last few years (ironically) and now that all of that is gone, I feel I don't have a center. And I don't. Religion is something I hardly ever think about anymore. and I wish I could explain why, but I hate debates. I don't want to end up alone, but I can't seem to grow. And I like being on my own, most of the time. A million things hold me back. The possibility of any hope seems impossible, it always has. Except for those brief, brief moments of certainty that I can't explain.
It's awful of me to tell myself that I am a blackhole, that I take in all light and cannot give any of it back. It is awful to think. But I am a detached person and don't give much. I used to think I was such a good listener when I was a kid, but I have learned over the years that I am not. That I live too much inside myself, that I am thoughtless, and that I am constantly on the defense, to a point that's even hurtful. I like to say it's because of my dad, it's because of the environment I was raised in, as if I didn't have a choice now, even after all these years since my parents' divorce. But I do have to choice, a choice to not let my instinctual reactions take over, to not panic over something so small, to not recoil at a certain tone, to not instinctual judge on such small gestures and expressions. I do this, all the time. It will probably take the rest of my life, maybe not even then, but I know I have to work on it.
Wow, I am rambling, aren't I? The point is this: Even though I feel aimless, directionless, even a bit lifeless right now, deep down I know I'm not. I feel like I've buried myself alive and don't really know how to live a a life anymore, but it isn't a hopeless situation, I have to keep telling myself that. It doesn't help, not having the structure of school or a steady job; it makes me feel like I have no purpose. But I'm on the hunt for a new drive. I have to force myself to look up now. And it's going to be one of the hardest things I'll ever have to do.
This week, I have been down in the dumps to an alarming degree, believing myself to be incompetent, worthless, and filled with regret, all the usual symptoms. And I still feel all of those things, of course. It's always in the back of my mind, a lifelong habit; I'm always looking backwards. And I'll admit that last year, 2011, was the worst year of my life. Despite how difficult it was for me to get through, it is very, very hard to let go of all the things that happened, or, even worse, what could have happened. Regrets are such awful, taunting demons. But I'm working on it.
I feel like I'm in limbo right now. A state of transition. Except I'm not helping myself move forward. I put so much of myself into the last few years (ironically) and now that all of that is gone, I feel I don't have a center. And I don't. Religion is something I hardly ever think about anymore. and I wish I could explain why, but I hate debates. I don't want to end up alone, but I can't seem to grow. And I like being on my own, most of the time. A million things hold me back. The possibility of any hope seems impossible, it always has. Except for those brief, brief moments of certainty that I can't explain.
It's awful of me to tell myself that I am a blackhole, that I take in all light and cannot give any of it back. It is awful to think. But I am a detached person and don't give much. I used to think I was such a good listener when I was a kid, but I have learned over the years that I am not. That I live too much inside myself, that I am thoughtless, and that I am constantly on the defense, to a point that's even hurtful. I like to say it's because of my dad, it's because of the environment I was raised in, as if I didn't have a choice now, even after all these years since my parents' divorce. But I do have to choice, a choice to not let my instinctual reactions take over, to not panic over something so small, to not recoil at a certain tone, to not instinctual judge on such small gestures and expressions. I do this, all the time. It will probably take the rest of my life, maybe not even then, but I know I have to work on it.
Wow, I am rambling, aren't I? The point is this: Even though I feel aimless, directionless, even a bit lifeless right now, deep down I know I'm not. I feel like I've buried myself alive and don't really know how to live a a life anymore, but it isn't a hopeless situation, I have to keep telling myself that. It doesn't help, not having the structure of school or a steady job; it makes me feel like I have no purpose. But I'm on the hunt for a new drive. I have to force myself to look up now. And it's going to be one of the hardest things I'll ever have to do.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Some of My Great Loves
Well, it's Valentine's Day, the day of celebrating love and all types of relationships. This year, I choose to celebrate my love of music, particularly classical music, an area I sometimes neglect. It's a one-sided relationship, I suppose, but I don't care.
Beethoven! I will never deny it--his brooding pieces get me down in a very good way. The first clip is from a movie titled Immortal Beloved, a drama based on Beethoven's life. Jump to 0:46.
And, one of my FAVORITES of his, Beethoven's Symphony 7 Movement 2. Just listen to that slow boil.
Mozart's Requiem: Rex Tremendae. I'm going to see all Mozart's Requiem IN CONCERT with Mom, Kjersite, and Kelli in May and I'm so excited!
Rachmaninoff's Prelude Op 23 No. 5
Tchaikovsky's Serenade for Strings in C Major
Mahler's Symphony 5, Adagietto. Deny this piece, I DARE you.
Samuel Barber (American composer!), Adagio for Strings. Another glory.
And the vocal version, Agnus Dei, which I think I like even better, somehow.
Of course, not every beautiful piece involving an orchestra HAS to be from centuries ago by a "classical" composer. I have a bit of an obsession with soundtracks, especially this one. Schindler's List by John Williams.
Hope you've enjoyed this! Of course, there are only a million more things I wish I could share. But this will do for today. Happy Valentine's Day!
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