homecoming

 So, after about half a year of turmoil, I will be moving back into the Mežaparks house. With my arrival, I will be bringing with me a flurry of renovating, designing, personalising, sorting, and a lot of other things. I hope that giving the house a new energy will contribute to the hope of us not having to sell.










Also, stockings. I need stockings.
*looks distractedly off into the distance*

want

(Birdy - "Wings")

adventure.
beautiful, beautiful people on an adventure

nothing nothing

(Everything Everything - "Cough Cough")

The ISP

They walk among us, in great numbers. They are us.
The Incredibly Sad People.
The ISP.

"He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others--the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of his at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad."
 - Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated

This same guy also said "You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness." There are the ISP who are like the man from the story, who lie to themselves for the sake of illusion of the past. There are also those who lie to themselves for the sake of illusion of the future. They know they are sad, they admit it freely, at least part of the time, they will feel it all for the sake of the glimmers of happiness they may capture throughout the day. Brief, but serene, especially on the background of everyday sorrow. It might be better, this way, as they may learn this way. It might be better someday.

I don't think realisations exist.

In my mind, they almost don't count. I think this because I can disprove my convictions as soon as I come up with them. What I'm left with is an incredible amount of self-doubt, and eventually, loathing. Being unusually gullible probably doesn't help with establishing concrete facts, either.
Now I know what happens when I try too hard, what happens when I give in to fears and desperation. I, hah, get so goddamn needy. Once I've given up on trying to deal with myself I seek help, simultaneously seeking independence and self-assurance, creating such a mess that no one in their right mind would want to deal with that, but yet, I continue, because I don't know what else to do, and because the self-destructive part of myself is keen at proving that I'm no good for anybody.
Which means that what previously I considered "manning up" and expressing myself, trying to get to the bottom of my emotions was pretty much doing the opposite of what I wanted to achieve. I have yielded some good results with the bad, thought. Doing yoga and making an attempt at stabilising these energetic things had been a useful experience, but, as it turns out, too much interference remains being an overload of something.
I was told that both getting drunk and having a cigarette shuts these things off.
It seems that people smoke, somewhere subconsciously having stored the knowledge that it is for their own peace of mind as well as for that of the rest of the general public. If you're off, you can't sabotage other people's work with themselves at that moment. It's a tolerance conspiracy. Which is funny, because it explains how inept people are at dealing with their own shit, really, gives a good reason for the state of the world.

Unrecognizeable

I used to have such a fascination for decay, but a great deal of that seems to have been lost in my frenzy of stress and apartments and having to keep things clean and organized.
It's sad, to see the bubbles fizz out of the lemonade. I do see what you mean, Kat.
Pain, pain, less gain than complete disaster - it's hard to tell if you should be grateful for the experience or furious about having become one of the countless broken beings. The word "broken" having a new meaning for me.
The music stopped, and left behind a buzzing silence, interspaced with occasional tapping, the closed door muffling the city outside.
Let's make lemonade again, world. Full of delightful bubbles. I suppose it would be more sophisticated lemonade, perhaps pink lemonade, a sort of a metaphor for joyful lacy intercourse.
Boots. Boots is a good start, I suppose.

Malaguena

a late night disruption, most welcome

titties and cream

I know now, for certain, that I have lost several different parts of myself, many of which I valued a whole fudging lot. But, like my hair, I think I had to lose them to appreciate them properly. It's going to take a lot of work to get my lost values back, and a lot of time to grow my hair back, but when I do, I'll know that I deserve them.

I have some significant additions to my personality, but I do feel that a couple of them (at least), are destructive. I've been shaken by life, but the essence of healing is always beautiful.
There is a haze I need to get into. Also out of. What



Lost and broken toys - tiny, desecrated envoys.

I had this dream as a kid, a recurring nightmare - there’s a line that I have to keep straight at all costs, but it always got jagged at one point, like the line of a heartbeat. Then someone would scream “I’m the king of the world!!", like some grand, yet terrible finale, and that’s pretty much it. The worst thing is, all throughout the dream there was this feeling of suppressed anger. Not my anger, just terrible, terrible rage, like someone’s going to go apeshit any moment now. 

I’m not sure how many times I had this dream, but I’m pretty sure it was mostly in my childhood. But here’s the twist: that feeling of suppressed anger comes over me once in a while. Sometimes it lasts around 10 minutes, sometimes more than that. Sometimes I almost think I hear voices in my head, although that might be just in the recent episodes. 

Whenever that happens, whatever anyone says to me sounds angry, like they’re only barely, barely suppressing it, same goes for music, almost any sound, really. It’s mostly unprovoked, the only thing I’ve noticed that if I’m in front of the computer when it happens, staying there makes it worse, I have to get away from the screen for it to go away.

These “episodes" have happened a bit more often lately, and I’m just wondering what it means and what I can do about it. I’d appreciate any feedback anyone has to give. Thanks.

end of the rainbow

There is this thought I had about people wanting to commit suicide. See, YouTube is spotlighting a whole gay support thing, and Pixar Studios has contributed with an “It gets better" video. The gays of their community spilled their hearts out, and several of them shared their near suicidal experiences and suicidal thoughts they’d had in the past. One phrase that got me was “I would’ve missed so much." I think that that one phrase has something that fails to occur to so fucking many unhappy people out there. A decision to commit suicide happens in a certain stage of a person’s life (this stage differs for everyone, and some don’t have it, (just to avoid misunderstandings)). Logically, whatever stage of life we’re in, we still have something to learn. Any decision is made in some state of mind, and every mind changes incessantly. So no decision is absolute. One must remember that they are capable of change, and to quit now would be missing out on an unfathomable range of experiences, good and bad. And here I could end with the key phrase of the support campaign - “It gets better."

(I apologize for the punny title, but I honestly couldn’t help myself.)

two nights

..since I moved in on Alberta iela. Even this early, it's surprisingly easy to make it feel like home. Not as a reflection of what was home previously, but my own home. I had a breakfast of cereal and raspberry yoghurt, and this I bought myself, yesterday, on trip of many to come. A combination of adulthood chores and youthful excitement of tasting independency.
I haven't had the easiest time falling or remaining asleep. That should change, as I change the colours of the walls and the aura of my surroundings, and also as inner problems and wounds fade away. A place of starting anew, like it usually happens, only with a whole new way to do it.
I haven't been in my old room since I moved out, and I'm expecting the encounter to be rather saddening. It's a lovely room, it really is, and now I've left it sort of broken. Child-like drama, if you will. Storybook stuff, only all too real. I'll probably end up taking all my dolls here.
Since I'm up so high, all the things going on in the sky seem more relevant. It's raining, now. Right above me, it's very comforting.

this is amazing

(Metric - "Grow Up And Blow Away")

yes, Kat.
and battalions of salivating kittens sounds so nice I thought I'd put it here, too

more of me

http://amdusciane.tumblr.com