Tuesday 21 December 2010

Motivation: n. that which gives purpose and direction to behavior

I wonder if anyone has ever been surprised by me. It is no doubt that I regard myself as one of the most boring people on the planet -- I cannot stand me, so I highly doubt that anyone else could. No one has ever said, "Wow! I didn't know you were awesome at _______!" No one has ever said, "Wow! I didn't know you had really good taste in _______!" No one has ever been surprised by my ability to do anything. I have friends who paint and sing and write and play instruments and photograph and listen to great music and are loved by any animal they meet. I don't think I have anything like that. I am good at school, and "well done, me!", I get lots of academic awards every year. But 1) Why couldn't I keep that up in the only year that counts?, 2) What sort of worthwhile skill is "being good at school"? And 3) It is neither exciting nor surprising. I set myself a precedent, and the only way I could surprise people was by failing the great expectation that they and I had placed upon myself.

I am so tired of living the life of a cliche. I am a cliche of myself. Even if I haven't, I feel like during high school I became a stereotype of myself, hence, to be "M." seemed to hold some mythical sort of meaning. And whether I am the only person that sees that, or feels like that, it doesn't really matter, because this image has influenced my life beyond belief.

It is difficult these days to even know what I want to do, because I cannot tell whether my motive is my own desire, or my desire to destroy this image. Why do I get drunk - because I want to have fun or because people expected better from me? Why do I want to travel next year - because I want to see the world or because people expect that I would go to uni? Why do I want to get a tattoo - because I want to remember something or because it would shock people? I don't even know my own motives anymore, because I am expending so much energy trying to break down something that I created, held onto, and now, desperately want to destroy.

OK.

I have only just come to realise the significance of two letters in the alphabet, which, when put together, side by side, form one of the most commonly used responses in the English language. OK. Although at first I saw this simply as a throw away line when mum would ask how school was or someone was explaining a concept that was not remotely interesting, as I have stopped to think about what it actually means and how many times it has appeared in my thoughts during my deepest and most desperate moments, it would seem that these two letters may have more serious connotations. For what does it mean to be OK? Okay means that we are coping; it means that even if things aren't at their most ideal, we are handling it and accepting it. Okay, to me, suggests a sense of deeper contemplation, and provides a satisfying answer often accompanied by a breath of relief. Okay suggests the worst is over.

For a perfectionist, however, okay is also a fine and delicate point that lies between order and catastrophe. After all, if something is not okay, then that is exactly what it is -- not okay. One cannot escape, one cannot breathe, one cannot be content with the current state of affairs. Hence, the incessant statements that appear in my mind -- I am okay, I am not okay, life is okay, life is not okay, things are okay, things are not okay -- have greater implications than the flippancy in which we use such an adjective would suggest. With this word balanced on such a fine line and being so closely related to one's ability to cope with a given situation, it feels on occasions, that simply being okay is the line that separates life and death. Am I being too dramatic? I have found myself saying lately that, even when bad things happen, all you can really do about it is find it within yourself to "be okay"; to find a way to deal with it. And that is it, because in the end, being "okay" is the only way we will ever get through all this. It is the only way we will stay alive through all this because we have to find a way to convince ourselves that it is all worth it, that we have a reason to keep going and that we can keep going.

For now, all I can do is take each day as it comes. As for today, today I am okay.

Flying.

I always find myself asking the question: Don't you wish the world would just stop? Well travel wil do that to a fair extent, won't it? I won't be on anyone else's terms or preoccupied with any real troubles. It will be an opportunity to enjoy myself, find myself and learn something that no uni degree will teach me. I hope more than anything that I will finally, FINALLY be free.

Sunday 28 November 2010

Finished: An afterthought.

I don't know how to write this. I don't know why I would bother writing this again, as I have written these words and made these complaints over a hundred times before. Only this time, one thing is different. This time, I have reached the other side and nothing has changed. I could complain all I liked before I finished school about the stress and how none of it was worth it, and all anyone could tell me was that things would be different when school was over. A week and two days after my final exam nothing has changed. I am still feeling this.

I cannot help feeling alone. In the company of close friends, in the company of more distant friends, I feel no sense of connection. I have spent a week being surrounded by people, yet much of the time all I wished was to be alone because at least then it would be normal for me to feel so lonely. I am so disconnected and isolated and I don't feel close to anyone. Yes, we all feel like this sometimes, but not now. This is not how I want to feel now, because it is exactly as I have felt for the past however many years of my life, and now all that is certain is that even on the other side of this long and arduous challenge, the grass is no greener. I have been holding out for a long time to feel good about myself, to feel good about life, to feel fucking good. Full stop.

I feel myself making plans to change my life and be a different person. But I know I will struggle to put these into action. I have no energy and I am so drained and after what has only been a week of freedom, I still feel like complete and utter shit. I don't know what I want to do next year, what I want to do in the future. I don't know anything. I have written lists of all the books I want to read and all the things I want to do: learn to surf, go horseriding, go skydiving, skinny dipping, camping, play soccer, cook, make clothes, do yoga, have a picnic, go iceskating, dancing, bowling, paintballing, go karting, shopping, go on a road trip, travel the world. But what if these are all empty aspirations? I am supposed to be in control, but I feel like I am not because I have lost hope for any prosperity or happiness in my life.

I don't know who I want to be, all I know is that I don't want to be me. I don't want to be who I am now. I can't be or I will just die. I want to start again, but I feel like it is too late. I am too rooted in these cognitions and in these bad habits that have overtaken and ruined my life. I just want to cry and die, I just want to feel something. I am so empty and just do not know what to do. I want to hurt myself and destroy myself, so I can break down everything that I have become - in my mind and in reality - and just rebuild. Restart, all over again.

I do not understand how some days I can have so much hope, and other days things just fall apart. Others may deny it, but, as I have said before, I believe the only way to be happy is to distract yourself from the fact that our lives our absolutely meaningless. Hence the list of extravagant things to do - there has to be something that I can do to make something out of my life, to use my life and to at least feel alive. But you know what? Even if I ever did achieve all these things - the big and small - I can see myself finally sitting down on the couch at the end of it all and feeling exactly as I do now.

Someone once told me that we are guaranteed of one thing in life - change. Well I hate to say it, but experience has proved quite the contrary. Indeed, I have learnt that some things never change. And if this is the case, then when do we say enough is enough?

Tuesday 16 November 2010

An empty euphemism.

No one passes away.
Do not describe such grief and sadness
Like it just passes us by without
The deepest sense of loss.
We have all felt it,
And no combination of words could soften the blow.
Death knocks on all our doors and
Wakes us from a slumber devoid of consciousness.
For what was I preoccupied with?
Where sums, equations, studies and concepts
Once filled my brain, I am now
Empty.
None of it seems to matter anymore.
Eight years a friend, yet one minute you were here,
And the next you were gone.
Such parting, so untimely - you are gone too soon.
If I could see you one more time;
To hear you say "Honey" just once more
And just to say goodbye.

Monday 15 November 2010

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air;
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.


~William Shakespeare, The Tempest

Sunday 14 November 2010

Food for thought.

“If you are born into the subculture of poverty, what do you inherit? Well, you inherit an economic condition, and you inherit a social and psychological condition... [One] inheritance is his inability to control impulse: he is present-time orientated and seldom defers gratification, never plans for the future, and endures his here and now with resignation and frustration…

"Now, I don’t want to idealise or romanticise the culture of poverty… But there are some positive aspects which we cannot overlook completely. Present-oriented living, for example, may sharpen one’s attitude for spontaneity and for excitement, for the appreciation of the sensual, for the indulgence of impulse; and these aptitudes are often blunted or muted in people like us who are middle-class and future-oriented…

"They have, in fact, no future. They have only today.”

~ Dodds, The Freedom of the City (Brian Friel)

I realise that we live in a society where it is essential to plan ahead to some extent. It may be considered advantageous to know what you would like to do with your life (even though I don't), to have goals and aspirations and to choose courses of action that will positively impact your future. But I hope that I have finally come to realise that to live in the present is more important than all of this; to live and be in the present is life. We cannot change what has happened. We do not own the future. Much of the future we have little control over. Dodds speaks of a culture of poverty and the life of the pauper - "they only have today" - but really, these words apply to all of us. We only have today.

Do not distress over what has been. Do not feel disappointed over things that have not yet happened. Do not be excited for an end that has not arrived yet. When I was told to "Focus on my current job" I now see why - because focussing on what has been and what is coming is a waste of where I am now. Do not mourn what has happened. Do not celebrate what has not. Just be - right here and right now.


“As we stood on the Guildhall steps, two thoughts raced through my mind: how seriously they took us, and how unpardonably casual we were about them”

~ Skinner, The Freedom of the City (Brian Friel)


A person who has always been quite practical, logical and mature, I would have generally considered myself as a serious person. Despite a vital and jovial side to me, I often found myself supressing this whilst in company and putting on that familiar, safe mask of composure. A friend of mine quoted this statement from our English text as we began our Year 12 exams, and she could not have been any more correct. Although I think she was referring to how seriously the exams were and how unprepared many of us felt for them (herself not included!), I have come to consider this quotation to reflect how seriously everyone around me views the results of these exams, and how impartial I have become towards them.

I used to laugh when someone called them the "November tests"; it seemed a little casual for my once perceived importance of them. But as someone who gave these exams more importance, focus and meaning than most people in my entire school, I think I have now come to view them with greater flippancy than many others - parents, teachers and fellow classmates.

Perhaps it's easier to downplay the importance of something when you haven't been as successful as you would have hoped, but even if this is the case, in a way I think I should be incredibly thankful that these November tests didn't go nearly as perfectly as I'd planned. Once again, living in the future had me stumped, and although I may not quite be sitting in the present at the moment, I am definitely getting there.

Initially the worst experience of my life, these exams have proved one of the greatest learning curves and most insightful lessons I could have ever learned.

Something really slapped me in the face in these few weeks and said, "If you're going to base the whole value of your education, your level of intellect and your self-worth on 4 digits and a decimal point, your a fucking idiot."

Wednesday 10 November 2010

To be nobody but yourself
in a world which is doing its best,
night and day,
to make you like everybody else
means to fight the hardest battle
which any human being can fight,
and never stop fighting.
~ E.E. Cummings

Books to read.

The exams finish on November 18 and the wisdom teeth come out on December 16. No more needs to be said - apart from catching up on a year worth of socialising - there is a long list of movies to watch, TV shows to catch up on and books to read.

Shall I begin?

Candide (Voltaire)
The Bell Jar (Sylvia Plath)
South (Ernest Shackleton)
The Feminine Mystique (Betty Friedman)
The Graduate (Charles Webb)
Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee (Dee Brown)
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (Mark Twain)
Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte)
Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
Animal Farm (George Orwell)
Brave New World (Aldous Huxley)
Only Forward (Michael Marshall Smith)
The Catcher and the Rye (J. D. Salinger)
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (Ken Kesey)
Great Expectations (Charles Dickens)
The War of the Worlds (H. G. Wells)
American Psycho (Bret Easton Ellis)
The Lord of the Rings (J. R. R Tolkien)
The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)
Around the World in 80 Days (Jules Verne)
Through the Looking Glass & What Alic Found There (Lewis Carroll)
Memoirs of a Geisha
The Penelopiad (Margaret Atwood)
The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinback)
A Farewell to Arms (Ernest Hemingway)
Siddhartha (Hermann Hesse)
The Importance of Being Earnest (Oscar Wilde)

A hint of realism.

Over halfway, woohoo! English was shithouse - today and yesterday.. But I think I'm okay with that. In the end I think you kind of just have to laugh at the shit essay topics you get given, the stupid meanings you interpret from a poem and the fact that some people are so bold as to tell you how well they went when they know you did shit. In the end I think you just have to find a way to be okay with it.

It is frustrating that I know I have written some brilliant practice commentaries and essays in the past 2 weeks, and 2 years for that matter - some of my best - which feel like they have all gone to waste. But I guess that they themselves are something to be proud of - I guess I can just come away from that knowing that I can write - well - but today, that exam, just wasn't my day. They're all just variables that you can't control. And as I've been told - that's just the way the shitty education system is. In the end, it is what it is, and you just have to find a way to deal with it. Whether that is by trying to do what I am doing now and downplay the significance of it all or some other way, I don't think it matters. You've just got to learn to be okay with it, regardless.

Perhaps doing shit (at least in my eyes) will be a blessing because I will finally learn to appreciate myself for who I am, not what I achieve, and not worry about what others think of me. I have a quote written up on my wall that says, "Your reputation is what you're perceived to be. Your character is who you really are" and maybe this - just like the previous disappointments this year - will finally engrain these ideals into my head.

Honestly, I can't even beat myself up that much with the "not doing enough study excuse" in the past few days, because really, much of what I have stuffed up were things out of my control - I didn't really understand the poem, I cracked under pressure in maths, and I didn't pay attention to the one tiny sentence in the Enviro textbook that said how the destruction of ozone layer was an example of positive feedback. I can't change anything, and I am in control of very little. And everything that has already happened - that, I have no control over.

Perhaps I am making excuses for myself, but I think at least this is bringing me closer to having a more objective and realistic view on what I can take out of these exams and what the results really say about me as a person. And realistically, that is very little, apart from the fact that at the end of all this, those results will say that I made it through these two years and came out on the other side.

Without trying to be too ambitious, maybe this lense of warped perception is fading faster than I had initially imagined.. :)

Tuesday 9 November 2010

You can spend, minutes, hours, days, weeks or even months over-analyzing a situation - trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could've, would've happened - or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on.

You'll never change what's been and gone...

Hold up... hold on... don't be scared
You'll never change what's been and gone
May your smile... Shine on... Don't be scared
Your destiny may keep you warm.

Cos all of the stars are fading away
Just try not to worry you'll see them some day
Take what you need and be on your way
And stop crying your heart out

Get up... Come on... why you scared
You'll never change what been and gone


~Oasis

Crash & Burn

Perhaps these are the words that we need to utter to ourselves every once in a while. As lame as it may sound, maybe when we feel completely alone we should start by cutting ourselves some slack and being our own friend first...

When you feel all alone
And the world has turned it's back on you
Give me a moment please to tame your wild wild heart
I know you feel like the walls are closing in on you
It's hard to find relieve and people can be so cold
When darkness is upon your door and you feel like you can't take anymore

Let me be the one you call
If you jump I'll break your fall
Lift you up and fly away with you into the night
If you need to fall apart
I can mend a broken heart
If you need to crash then crash and burn
You're not alone

When you feel all alone
And a loyal friend is hard to find
You're caught in a one way street
With the monsters in your head
When hopes and dreams are far away and
You feel like you can't face they day

Let me be the one you call
If you jump I'll break your fall
Lift you up and fly away with you into the night
If you need to fall apart
I can mend a broken heart
If you need to crash then crash and burn
You're not alone

Because there has always been heartache and pain
And when it's over you'll breathe again
You'll breath again

When you feel all alone
And the world has turned its back on you
Give me a moment please
To tame your wild wild heart

Let me be the one you call
If you jump I'll break your fall
Lift you up and fly away with you into the night
If you need to fall apart
I can mend a broken heart
If you need to crash then crash and burn
You're not alone

~Darren Hayes & Daniel Johns

A bit of inspiration?

You have a choice. To live or to die. Every second is a choice. Every breath is a choice. To be or not to be.
~Chuck Palahniuk


A minority of people succeed in life, because as people are faced with a hurdle, with a challenge, they back down and withdraw. These hurdles are defeatable. Do not be the person that didn't reach their potential because they shyed away from the challenge. Be the proud and successful person who struggled, embraced it and overcame it to reach the ultimate goal. Do not stop at the hurdles, but find the strength to jump over them.
~M.

Time and time again, you have reached the light at the end of the tunnel. You have faced adversity on countless occasions and pulled through. Just remember, no matter how hard things get, no matter how dim that light is and no matter how far away it seems, it is always there; it never ceases to exist. Shit happens, and shit passes. Just keep pushing through, remembering the gasp of air that awaits you at the end.
~M.

What are you worth? What am I worth?

Why is it that I must punish myself incessantly?

Why can I not just give myself a break?

I remember reading once a comment on the back of a toilet cubicle, abusing someone who had replied rather harshly and insensitively to a note that someone else had written saying they wanted to kill themself. This person had written, "...How could you say that? You are the lowest form of life, kicking someone while they are down..."

How true this is, and how much can I apply this to myself.

I am down and I am hurting. I never remember struggling so much in my life as I am now, yet in every possible way I seem to be abusing myself and only making things even harder to cope with. Why dwell on everything that I can't change? Why fucking look up what I was supposed to write in my commentary when I can't change it now? Why punch my fist against my palm pointlessly? Why, why, why...

I would never get away with treating anyone else like this.

If I treated anyone else as badly as I treat myself I wouldn't have a friend in the world. So why can I see the best in others and only see the worst in me? How do I get away with loving and respecting others yet reducing myself to nothing?
I am a terrible, terrible person,
But only to myself.

Monday 8 November 2010

I guess I forgot to consider how much reality could differ from my hopes and expectations. Once viewed upon as a conquest to triumph, these exams have become the final hill of a marathon that I can spare no more energy towards. Once thinking that they would be a place for me to achieve, to give my all and take away something to be proud of, they have become a mere struggle for survival. There is no energy left to give. There is no more effort that can be exerted. There is certainly nothing to be proud of.

Right now I just want to make it through. Right now, that is enough.

In a month and a half, looking at that sheet, looking back...

Then, there will be nothing but regret.

Saturday 6 November 2010

Through every dark night...

"Through every dark night, there's a bright day after that. No matter how hard it gets, stick your chest out, keep ya head up... and handle it."
~Tupac

Fuck.

FUCK THIS. FUCK THIS, FUCK THIS, FUCK THIS, FUCK THIS, FUCK THIS. No amount of cursing, no number of capital letters and no group of words even comes close to describing the anger and frustration I feel at everything right now. Talking to people does not make anything better. I hate myself for not being able to get over myself. It frustrates me that no one else can understand, but good for them, at least they don't have to go through it too. I hate that my emotions cannot follow any sort of consistency. I just want someone to hold me in their arms, I just want to break down and cry an ocean of tears into their shoulder. I want to cry until there is not a remnant of water left in my body, and then shrivel up and disappear. Fuck this, man, seriously. Fuck it all.

Friday 5 November 2010

Facade: n. A showy misrepresentation intended to conceal something unpleasant.

A definition could not be so true or better suited: "A showy misrepresentation intended to conceal something unpleasant." How perfectly these eight words describe my entire schooling life. How perfectly they describe me.

"Showy"
Well I guess any attempt to conceal the truth has to be so exaggerated and flamboyant to be believable, and I think I did a pretty good job. If people had really thought about it, surely they would have realised that this sort of life wasn't really that of a person, but more a robot. Or maybe that is me just getting angry at myself for putting on such a good show that everyone did fall for it. Junior School Leader, lead role in the Year 7 musical, numerous academic awards, Social Justice representative, First Teams in every sport, Kwong Lee Dow Young Scholar, Captain and B&F for Netball - twice, debator, musician, State League netballer, and School fucking Captain. Is that not complete and utter insanity? And why do I not see these as achievements to be proud of? Because they all form part of this act that I have come to hate myself for. And could this act have been much more "showy" as the definition states? Well actually, it could. But now, without triple honours and with a rapidly decreasing ENTER score, perhaps I will not only learn the best lessons of my life, but also break out of this superficial performance.

"Misrepresentation"
So if all of this was a misrepresentation, then who am I really? I don't even know, and I guess that's half the problem. All I know is that I fooled people pretty damn well. At one stage, it was killing me how many times I would hear, "I wish I were you," only to think to myself, "You have no fucking idea." Yet as the facade began to break down, I would panic and quickly gather up the pieces and try and repair it. Why? Maybe because it was what I had come to know and feel comfort with. It was safe and it was secure. It sheilded what I was scared of people finding out, even though I didn't quite know what that was. It was nice to be praised, loved and admired, yet at the same time I paid a heavy price appearing to be this image and suppressing all my emotions and self-destruction underneath. I hated people for not knowing how hard things were and not helping or being there, but instead, "wishing they were me" when they had no clue what that even meant. All of it was a lie, my show was a lovable, perfect and enviable young woman, yet everything that brewed below the surface was the polar opposite.

"Conceal"
So what exactly was it that I trying to conceal? That I had no personality? That I was suffering, in pain, hurt? That I hated myself? Or that I couldn't cope with my pathetic excuse of a life and simply wanted to die? Beneath a confident exterior I was still a shy and self-conscious little girl, yearning for some level of self-acceptance. I was scared of exposing weakness, scared of letting people down, scared of being vulnerable. And honestly, I still am. I have been lost and confused for so long, and somewhere along the way, I seemed to have missed the "coping skills" or "resilience" lesson in my life. Nothing went wrong in my life. Nothing. I just went wrong. Feeling like my life was worth nothing, being nobody and not being okay with that - that is what I was trying to conceal. And what better way than to distract everyone with an almost flawless overachiever - while in the meantime, whoever and whatever I really was just wiltered away.

"Something unpleasant"
Yes it was, is and has been. Right now, where I am, I feel like these have been some of the worst years of my life. This year, certainly, has been the worst year of my life. And in a way, this offers one of the best rewards - what I will have learnt and what I will have achieved. Because in a year, 5 years, 10 years - whenever - I know I will look back at this and say, "I can't believe I got through all that". And right now, these exams, this pressure, this stress and this emotion is one of the worst, most upsetting and most dragged out things I have ever done in my life. It is merely beyond words, so I won't even try. But as they say, if you're going through hell, keep going.

The facade will fall away soon enough - I know it already is, and although part of me wants to hold onto it, in the end I know it will be for the best. At the moment, I am not free, but I will be so soon. It is almost over, and I cannot thank my friends - above all, Nom Nom and Katie Lou - for getting me through this - you don't know how much you have done for me, and I honestly thank you so much and so sincerely for always being there at the end of the phone or the receiving end of a much-needed hug. And Kim, counsellor and friend, well, even though you'll never see this, thank you for everything. For the few tragic lives that may have been lost in your time, I can promise you that you have saved a lot more.

As for me, well, when it's all over I will finally have the freedom to find myself, discover what it is I'm looking for and I will have so much to be proud of - none of this academic crap, but the simple fact that I made it through.

Now, go out there, M. Put on a brave face and finish off what you started.

Glass half empty.



Why is it so much easier to see the worst in myself than the best? Why must I be blind to any merits or good doings that I am acknowledged for?


The problem with being a perfectionist is that the picture is not even that of being a glass half full or a glass half empty. It is a matter of a glass being full, or a glass being not full. There is no middle ground - if the glass if 95% full, this is still insufficient.


Just like 95.00 seems like such a god damn disappointment. You know, someone pointed out to me that, as terrifying as such a score might be, that would still put you in the top 5% of the state - so since when was that not good enough? Well, since always.


I do not remember when I was suddenly struck with such a distorted perception of the world, or when I became so self-critical, but somewhere along the way, some cognitions lined up in such a way that it has been years since I have been able to see the world clearly. So long, in fact, that I do not even remember not feeling like this.


When will this distorted lense of warped perception disappear? When will I ever see things objectively, and when will I ever appreciate myself? So many questions, and so few answers.

Thursday 4 November 2010

Our deepest fear...

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small doesn’t serve the world.
There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking
So that other people won’t feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It’s not just in some of us, it’s in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine,
We unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others.

~Nelson Mandela

Monday 1 November 2010

Right now.

Right now, I really just need someone to tell me that I'm okay. Years and years of my own abuse and my own self-hatred - promising myself that things will be different in the future. That things will change once I reach the other side? But where is the other side? When is it?

Right now, I need someone to tell that I am beautiful. That they can look at me and smile. I need someone to reassure me that one day, somewhere, someone will fall in love with this monster. Someone needs to tell me that it's okay to want to lose 10 kilos, but even if I didn't, they would still look at me with just as much love and respect.

Right now, I need someone to tell me that I am interesting. That I am "cool" in one way or another or that there is something about me that makes me special or unique. I wish that someone could look me in the eye and honestly tell me that my words are worth listening to or that they value me as a person. And why. Some sort of reassurance that I am not that socially retarded or that I am not pedantic and wound up by the stupidest little things. Although to that, perhaps I would just say, "You don't really know me."

Right now, I need someone who will tell me that I am a good person. That they know I have good intentions and that I am worthy of love from others. That perhaps I could make a difference.

Right now, I need someone to tell me that things are going to turn out okay. That I will get through this. That one day, one day soon, I will be happy and life will stop being such a chore. That I won't feeling like crying all the time and that things won't be such a struggle for no good reason.

Right now I need all of this from someone else, because quite simply, I cannot give it to me. Right now, I need to believe it.
Right now, though, I don't think anyone is listening...

Tuesday 19 October 2010

Maturity: n. The state or quality of being mature.

Someone very recently told me: "Maturity is being able to force yourself to do something you don't want to do to the best of your ability when it is required of you". For now, we just have to suck it up. It is the blood that a doctor has to look past, the vomit in the bed that the parent has to clean up, and right now, for me, it is the mountain of work that I must conquer in the next few weeks.

Time to be practical. This, my friends, is my job for the next few weeks.

It isn't forever. The end is so near that it is almost teasing me. I can see it. I can feel it. Hang in there... just a little longer...

Adios amigos.
I am the worst at making the best of bad times. I am probably the best at making the worst of good times too. But every time we are faced with a challenge, we must ask ourselves, what can I gain from this?

From netball: I will make new friends, I am given a fantastic opportunity to be a leader, I will have a new coach, I will have an amazing season and the ability to dominate.

From school: I will have overcome one of the greatest challenges of my entire life, I will be proud that I made it through, I will settle my nerves before exams and I might even enjoy learning.

When you land yourself in a shit place, look around you, recognise and acknowledge where you are, and back away. You will end up there - this is inevitable - but you have the power to pull yourseld out of it. See the positives.

Just do it.

Monday 18 October 2010

M for magician.

I know you're worried about me, I just wish I could tell you that none of it is your fault. It is not your fault that I hate myself. It is not your fault I am scared. It is not your fault that I cannot see any prosperity in my future. If I could be granted one wish right now it would be to fade away quietly without a fuss. To be able to end this all without any commotion. To cease existing without all the pain of loss. To just succeed in a disappearing act and for life to go on as if I had never walked on the earth. I wish the reality was not that ending this would inflict irreparable damage upon my friends and family. Perhaps I should regard myself as compassionate to simply bear this pain instead of watching others feel it for me. But how long will it be before I start to do things for my own reasons, not for those of others? I wish, I wish, I wish...

As for happiness, for that, I have given up on wishing...
Have you ever passed 18 years of your life and wondered, "What the fuck just happened?"?

Sunday 17 October 2010

It feels like yet another failure.
I wonder when I will be able to open my eyes and see the world
Clearly again.
How many blows must I take before I become stronger?
When will this stop feeling like it's just getting longer?
Tears again.
The familiarity of stinging eyes again makes me at home.
Alone.
Hope is lost all over again, and I just become weaker.
The future is bleak.
This has reached its peak.

Yet again, like my dreams of change and aspirations of happiness,

It fades into nothingness.

Don't Quit

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit-
Rest if you must, but don't you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a fellow turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out.
Don't give up though the pace seems slow -
You may succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man;
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor's cup;
And he learned too late when the night came down,
How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out -
The silver tint in the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It might be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit -
It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.

~Unknown

Ctrl + N

Do you ever just want to start your life all over again? To forget the past, to forget everything that you have been, everything you have done, and just start afresh?

I do.

Right now, I want more than anything to escape the grind. Not just because I am entering what is possibly one of the most stressful experiences of my life, but because I simply hate being who I am and want to start over. I have been upset for so long, hurt for so long, struggling for so long I feel that the only way any of this will ever change is if I simply forget everything that has ever happened to me and everything I have ever been.

No more perceptions of me being perfect. No more negative thoughts. No more netball. No more attention-seeking antics. No more over-eating. No more emptiness. No more conformity. No more excuses. No more me.

I have not been myself for a long time - I don't know who I am because I have stopped trying to be this person that I hate. Yet in the meantime, I do not like this person that I have become any more than that. I just want to leave. All I want to do is leave everything and everyone and simply be alone somewhere for a while where I can figure out who I am and what the hell I am doing here. To read about the world and life. To discover nature. To find myself.

Friday 15 October 2010

Who in the world am I? Ah, that's the great puzzle.
~Alice in Wonderland

Thursday 14 October 2010

Undeviginti

The one question that I often find undermines my very existence is that of the meaning of our lives: what are we doing here? Whether at the age of 15, the age of 30 or even when we hit the big 5-0, every one of us, at some stage in our lives, will be faced with this question. It is a window that, once opened, allows for no going back; once you have asked this question, the search begins. As I have personally experienced, this can be a real challenge - trying to find one's meaning in the middle of high school is a difficult task, but at the same time, it leads to empowerment. The problem is when this question becomes central to our lives, and instead of it acting as a journey through which we explore different pathways, passions and possibilities, it becomes a struggle that undermines our existence. After persevering through the perils of this question for what has literally been years, I think I have finally come to a conclusion. And this conclusion is that we must simply have faith.

There are many things we cannot control in life - when we fall in love, when we meet our dream job - and finding our meaning is also one of these. I think I set my hopes on expecting someone to relay my own purpose to me, only to realise that everyone's purpose is different. Therefore it is only through self-discovery that one will ever find this.

However, if it is not in our power to determine when we discover the answers to these questions, then what are we expected to do in the meantime? As much as I may struggle to find meaning in it, I believe it is to simply have fun. To enjoy yourself. To try out a whole range of different pathways until one really clicks. And how much fun this could be! To be dragged down by the thought that our lives have no meaning is ridiculous - why does this thought merit any more worth than the simple pleasures of life? Because for now, while we are still searching, that has to be enough, and in the end, it is likely that we will derive an element of our own meaning from these simplicities.

What's more, we cannot let our expectations exceed beyond us when we try to find our meaning in life. We cannot build our lives around this seemingly pivotal discovery, or we are simply reducing the complexity of life to something that does not encapsulate everything that humans are. Humans love, humans laugh, humans cry, humans care for each other. There are more turning points in life than simply finding your reason for being here. Yes, this plays a large role - one of the biggest in our entire lives - yet human life is not this one dimensional. What about the development of relationships? What about the significance of falling in love? Finding you passions? Having children? Watching friends get married and have children? Travelling? Helping others? Broadening our perception of the world?

What about the pleasure and satisfaction we gain from these things?

And viewing bright city lights on a dark night; breathing in night air; winning a netball final; sitting in the sun; singing to music; baking chocolate cakes before training; laughing with friends. The little things.

We are young. We are always young, and there is always time. Things will work out in their own time, and the key is for us to have faith in this fact. Until then, let us take meaning from the simple pleasures - cherish relationships and enjoy all the wrong pathways that we will travel down as part of our journey of self-discovery.

Enjoy being 18.

Wednesday 13 October 2010

Again...

The only way to be happy is to simply mask the truth that life sucks and that our lives have no meaning. No matter how many good times or how many bad times, our lives are hollow. Maybe it's easier to convince yourself to bother sticking around if the good ones outweigh the bad, but it doesn't change the fact that we have no purpose and we are simply another organism that is made up of atoms just floating in space.

I do not know how I will ever stop caring about what other people think of me; it is not like I haven't said to myself before "Just ignore it" or "Who cares what other people think?" - for goodness sakes, one of my life ideals for years has been Dr. Seuss' "Be who you are and say what you feel because those that mind don't matter and those that matter don't mind". Off by heart, I know the philosophy. Yet knowing isn't doing? Knowledge is not power until you are successful in acting on it. Caring an obscene amount about what other people think will ruin my life. I know that, because it affects me in so many different ways already. I always thought it was one of those things that diminished with maturity, but now it just seems like an embedded part of my personality.

La crême de la crême: It will ALWAYS be such a goddamn effort to be happy, why should I keep on trying? Perhaps you don't agree with my deterministic viewpoint - kudos to you for having a glass half full attitude on the matter. But not only have I read it, but it is evidenced by life itself: the way we are is a result of nature via nurture. Things happen to us throughout life, but we have some sort of genetic predisposition that determines what these experiences mean to us and how we innately react to them. The funny thing is, I don't think I am like either of my parents. I think there is some similarity between me and my sister, but what happened in all of this? Did we just get some fucked up set of genes. Because I honestly feel like that; I got given so, so, so much - everything that everyone is so jealous of me for - yet there are so many others whom I would trade places with in an instant just because I would so much rather be inside their head. People who are okay with themselves, people who either know what their purpose is, or conversely, don't care. People who are funny, who love life. People who are happy. You rave about how interesting I am all the time, yet one of the primary reasons I fucking hate myself so much is because I am so goddamn boring. You always speak of how intelligent I am, but I struggle to find proof for this in anything. You say that I'm beautiful, yet these days I can' stand to look at myself in the mirror. I am not unique and I am not special.

It all seems so logical, and hey it is probably that twisted type of logic that I have made such a bad habit of, but can you see what I'm getting at? With any of it? The best way to be happy comes with not thinking and being distracted because life does not have a meaning… How will I ever stop caring about what other people think of me, because it is not something you can just will away… and why should I keep trying to make things better when it feels like I am innately predisposed to not be happy - like a magnet is continually pulling me back to what is "natural"?

But you see, you have me trapped again. Because as the quote says, "You have a choice. Live or die". Ultimately, there is only one choice; to live. I wish it could be over and I wish I didn't have to go through this anymore because I am just so tired of feeling like I am never making any progress, even if I am. I am sick and tired of the way that I view the world, of my so goddamn pessimistic attitude, for being so fucking self-centred and everything about me that makes life such a fucking arduous task. I hate my temperament, I hate that I can't sustain any one emotion for more than 5 minutes. I hate my stubborn thought that it will never change, yet I see a world of truth in it.

Tuesday 12 October 2010

Lady Lazurus

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it-----

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The Peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot
The big strip tease.
Gentleman , ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart---
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair on my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.


~Sylvia Plath

Untitled.

It will ALWAYS be such a goddamn effort to be happy,
why should I keep on trying?
I give up right here and right now
because it has been too long
I am too tired
I am too hurt
I am too broken,
like the swallow without wings I long to be
free. I cannot lift myself off the ground.
I am not trying hard enough -
I have yet another excuse - I am
exhausted. No reinforcement for my efforts, but instead a large perpetual
circle, round and round and round until
I cannot spin any further.
Give me a lethal dose of the opiate that will take this pain away.
I hate the world... I hate myself.
Where is the you or the we?
Selfish, careless, lost to infinity.
I have failed and it has not even started;
to be born was my biggest failure.
Perhaps the best thing I can do is just to undo the damage
I have done.

Monday 11 October 2010

Note to self:

You have a choice. Live or die. Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or not to be.

Thursday 7 October 2010

Thank you.

Although I should really never pass a day without thanking God for my friends, I often do. I guess when you become so used to having something all the time you begin to take it for granted, but when I step back and take a look, I can appreciate how damn lucky I am. I never, ever, ever want to lose them because these are some of the most amazing people I think I will ever meet. Gifted, beautiful, loyal, wise and so much more.

For my friends, thank you. For the laughs, the smiles, the support, the music, the artwork, the thoughts, the tears. It is not your fault that I still feel lonely, but it is your blessing that I see something worth fighting for.

Wednesday 6 October 2010

Life.

Things to do:

  • Go skydiving
  • Live on a farm / in the country / country town
  • Ride an aircraft to the edge of the atmosphere
  • Dive with sharks
  • Live and work in France, speak fluent french
  • Visit every continent (except perhaps Antarctica)
  • Do a cross-country bike tour
  • Learn to dance/tango
  • Learn to surf
  • Be part of the Rio Carnival in Brazil
  • Volunteer abroad
  • Go skinnydipping

Places to visit:

  • Live in a french cottage in the French countryside and read for a month
  • Revisit England, Venice and the New Zealand south island
  • See the lights in Las Vegas and visit the Grand Canyon
  • Visit Iguazu Falls and the Amazon forest in Brazil
  • Go to egypt and see the pyramids and sphinx
  • Volunteer in India and visit the Taj Mahal
  • Visit Victoria Falls and go on an African safari
  • Visit the Great Wall of China
  • Go diving in the Great Barrier Reef
  • Visit Niagra Falls and the Rocky Mountains (Canada)
  • Go to Bora Bora (French Polynesia) and relax....
  • Visit the fjordlands of Norway
  • See the Himalayas
  • Visit Japan

I awoke
Only to find my lungs empty
And through the night
So it seems I'm not breathing
And now my dreams are nothing like they were meant to be
And I'm breaking down,
I think I'm breaking down
And I'm afraid
To sleep because of what haunts me
Such as living with the uncertainty
That I'll never find the words to say
Which would completely explain
Just how I'm breaking down
Someone come and, someone come and save my life
Maybe I'll sleep when I am dead
But now it's like the night is taking sides
With all the worries that occupy the back of my mind
Could it be this misery will suffice?
I've become
A simple souvenir of someone's kill
And like the sea
I'm constantly changing from calm to ill
Madness fills my heart and soul as if the great divide could swallow me whole
Oh, how I'm breaking down
Oh my life
Someone come and, someone come and save my life
Could it be this misery will suffice?
~City and Colour

“Sometimes you put walls up not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to break them down.”

Forty-five.

Fuck you. Fuck everyone. Fuck you all for being on my back. For not being on my back. For only being there when it DIDN'T matter. Fuck you for trying and failing to be a part of my life. Damn your pathetic efforts to make some sort of meaningful relationship with your own fucking daughter. Fuck you all for just assuming that it would be okay, that things would just turn out alright; fuck you for being so damn blind. For standing so fucking far away that when I needed you, you were too far out of reach. Fuck you all for being so goddamn disappointed in me, like you never expected it. Well open your eyes you dumb fucks! Did you think I wasn't disappointed enough in myself? How goddamn smart did you think I was; did you think I'd get away with a year without studying? I'd like to see you get a fucking 7 in Standard Level maths...

Fuck you for giving up on me. Don't you worry though, because I'll show you. And when I do, I'll make sure you don't get a cent of credit for it. I will remind you how you didn't believe in me, how you didn't put the effort in. Unless, perhaps, it all turns out the wrong way round..

You want to know the truth? The truth is, I didn't put in the effort. I didn't put in the effort and there was very little that you could do about it. There. I said it. But you'll never hear it. I couldn't bear to expose your ears to the horrid words. Your money, your livelihoods, your lives - all devoted to me, the selfish brat. Stop trying to blame everyone else, M., it's all your fucking fault.

Friday 24 September 2010

Fear: n. A feeling of agitation and anxiety caused by the presence or imminence of danger.

A fear resides within me: a fear of doing the wrong thing, a fear for the world, a fear of hurting other people, a fear of hurting myself, a fear of failure. I feel sick with nerves and a cold chill shivers down my spine. It is stress at its peak – simultaneously paralysing and motivating. Perhaps if I didn’t overanalyse absolutely everything I wouldn’t feel like this. Perhaps if I didn’t overanalyse everything I wouldn’t be so damn exhausted. I lie awake at night, just willing myself to go to sleep, without success. Thoughts wildly run through my mind and I long to tie them up and discard of them, but I feel powerless to stop their antics.

I write and write and write in an attempt to expel from me this poison that flows through my veins. It becomes an addiction because part of me wants to believe that writing has a therapeutic effect and that if I just put everything I feel in words, out of my mind, then I will be free. But it is only a fool’s game. There is no relief in writing, and rather than cleansing my mind and body of every ill thought and sinister deliberation that resides within me, it draws me deeper into myself, sucking my thoughts further and further into this black hole. These ineffable thoughts finally put on paper offer no form of relief, because in the end, they are beyond the description of mere words. Well, almost.

"God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of "parties" with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter - they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long. Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship - but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering." ~ Sylvia Plath

Ms. Plath captured it pretty well. Not just the idea of loneliness, but where this comes from. She does not speak of physical loneliness, nor is she suggesting the loneliness of life without the company of friends and family. No, for loneliness exists even in the presence of such amazing people; no, it is loneliness of the mind. Never feeling completely understood, a unique way of viewing the world, and an incessant feeling of desolation over one’s purpose while we’re here. The fear of other people not understanding that and not accepting that, and accepting that it is a part of you. And it does become a part of you. I have lost myself in a spiral of depression over the past few years of my life. I have felt so alone and in such despair for such a long time that I almost feel like I am defined by it. I do not know who I am, and I do not even know the reasons behind my very sentiments. All I know is that I struggle. A lot. And I have only recently realised that it has come to the point where I don’t know how to build a deep relationship with someone except for on the foundations of these debilitating thoughts. Perhaps it is so hard to let go of it because, without it, I wouldn’t know who I am or how to create a such interpersonal relations. Sylvia captures the essence of life’s superficial joys, with the “opiates” and the “shrill tinsel gaiety”, all serving to sustain our joy, yet doing so with no apparent purpose. And the false-grinning faces – how often I have worn this mask… And then the climax. The day that you can finally expel these thoughts from your body, verbalising everything that has been stuck in your head for so long, the words that have scarred your mind and soul for what seems like an eternity. You take a deep breath, and you release them. But the effect is nowhere near what you anticipated. There is no relief, and if there is it’s only temporary. The real pain is in knowing that even verbalising these thoughts does not create change and does not ease the accumulation of confusion, frustration and hurting that has built up over the years. We are given hope all too often, in the forms of friends and delights, moments of ecstasy and elation. But Sylvia was right, it’s never enough and in the end, the loneliness prevails.

Wednesday 22 September 2010

Ode to Chemistry

By M.

You make my brain sore night and day,
From Boyle to Charles’ to Faraday
You force upon us all your laws
But no one cares for these useless bores

You make the world seem black and white
With constants: Avogadro to the Speed of Light.
Why they count in “moles” is well past me,
Why not just say six-point-oh-two times ten to the twenty three?

Bohr, your name is a convenient pun,
Because who in the world finds atomic structure fun?
Electrons whizzing round electron shells
Like thoughts in my brain during crazed chemistry spells.

To scientists Aufbau, Pauli and Hund,
I tear out my hair out when I read what you found.
Chemistry was already hard enough for me
So I ask you, were subshells really necessary?

Van der Wal, instantaneous dipoles were you game,
But just one thought: could you get a real name?
Covalent, ionic and metallic bonds, you’ll be
Forever stronger than chemistry and me.

Born-Haber cycles, you aren’t too much fun,
Atomise, ionise, lattice enthalpy – and you’re still not done.
Give me a two plus charge and your dead,
Cos adding in second ionisation is too much for this head!

Kinetics, kinetics – “It’s all practical work,” you say?
Well I checked the theory – we’re still 16 syllabus points away!
I think you’ll find there are some equations to learn
And Maxwell-Boltzmann has got some nice curves.

Arrhenius, sometimes I think you are trying to confuse me?
Oh sorry, I didn’t realise it was as simple as k equals A times e to the power of negative Ea over RT.
As for the log equation, hardly brain power raisin’,
Isn’t it obvious that natural log of k = negative Ea over RT plus natural log of A is a simple linear equation?

End point, equivalence point, what’s really the dif?
Oh yeh, the latter YOU CAN’T ACTUALLY SEE.
Sorry to mess up my rhyming scheme there,
At times my chemistry emotions are too strong to bare.

From pH to pOH, to pKb to pKa,
It’s all so confusing and there’s not much more to say.
Indicators, buffer solutions – you drive me insane,
Chemistry is taking over my precious brain.

The equilibrium constant? I don’t really care,
After all, my birth certificate doesn’t say Le Chantelier,
Escalators at Centro and peddlos at Albert Park,
I was just watching that video thinking ‘What the farrrrk?’

Organic, could you be any more of a pain?
Twelve hours for standard level, plus HL is ten!
That’s twenty-two hours all up, oh heavens,
For Psychology, French – think of the sacrificed sevens!

No time to be a free radical while studying this,
Nucleophilic substitution and homolytic fiss.
I’ll never quite know why ‘optical isomer’, they be,
When in fact they are something you can’t actually see!

You ask me how to get from an alcohol to ketone,
And I say ketone… is that like a trombone?
SN1, SN­2 – substitution takes me a while -

And why fear men and young children, when there's nucleophiles?

I have often considered how to escape this grind,
And the mass spectrometer came into mind.
Being an isotope would be okay --
Vaporise, ionise, off and away!

Chromotography – didn’t I do that in Year 3?
And even then it wasn’t fun, there’s a trend, don’t you see?
Absorption and adsorption, the both look the same,
A ‘b’ and a ‘d’, come on, that’s pretty lame.

So I come to the end of my chemistry rant,
And now I must work, but quite simply, I can’t!
Thanks to this subject, I am a procrastinating queen.
Oh Chemistry, Chemistry, what a year it has been!

Untitled.

I found a place to hide away beneath the the busy flow
Of people rushing here and there, a place for me to grow.
To grow into my ill-fit mind, too big for me to comprehend
The reasons for me being here, to stay until the end.
This place began to draw me in, a bottomless black hole
Where logic was a weapon and delusion was the goal.
Governed by irrational, this place, it trapped me so
Having survived an almost fatal fall, I could not stay nor go.
When I emerged from years of black, my vision was impaired,
I had not seen the light in years but no one really cared.
Still I cannot see things straight, I see the world a different way
I analyse and criticise every minute, every day.
But past these dark black cataracts, one day, perhaps I'll see
The beauty of the natural world and a peaceful melody
Of songs soothing as bath salts, a tune to calm the soul.
To undo all this pain and hurt, so again I can be whole.

Tuesday 21 September 2010

Invictus

(Just another ideal)

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

~ William Ernest Henley

Anger and hatred

I hate you. Sometimes I just fucking hate you. You have no idea how much your words hurt other people; you just throw them away without anticipating repercussions. Language cannot express the anger that I feel towards you at times. Sometimes I think you have ruined my life… Sometimes I think this is all your fault. Fuck you. Seriously fuck you. For being a bitch. For using and exploiting everyone. For always thinking about yourself. For always hurting other people. For not knowing how or when to listen. For not seeing. For always arguing. For thinking you're always right. For refusing to accept that sometimes, you're actually wrong. Fuck you. Every time I think about how hurt I have been for so long, how much I detest myself and have spat upon the person that I am, it is because of you. Younger, smaller, always inferior. I was only a child, and you were a bully when I needed a friend. I lost two strong feet to stand on years ago. You stole my voice, and now my cries are all but internal. I hate to think back to everything I could have been. You ruined me, but you have no idea - and in a way I'm glad of that, because strangely enough, I love you too.

Monday 20 September 2010

The Pygmalion effect

The Pygmalion effect, or Rosenthal effect, refers to the phenomenon in which the greater the expectation placed upon people, often children or students and employees, the better they perform. The effect is named after Pygmalion, a Cypriot sculptor in a narrative by Ovid in Greek mythology, who fell in love with a female statue he had carved out of ivory.

The Pygmalion effect is a form of self-fulfilling prophecy, and, in this respect, people with poor expectations internalize their negative label, and those with positive labels succeed accordingly. Within sociology, the effect is often cited with regards to education and social class.

Wikipedia (2010)

Perhaps Rosenthal never had experience being that person burdened with expectation. Perhaps the authors assumed this theory could be generalised to every of personality type. Perhaps I have internalised the negative label I placed on myself many years ago to such an extent that no positive external label could ever permeate my now heavy-laden mind...

I saw my life...

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.
~The Bell Jar

Sunday 19 September 2010

God, but life is loneliness...

"God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of "parties" with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter - they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long. Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship - but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering." ~ Sylvia Plath

Saturday 18 September 2010

I Lost A World

I Lost a World
I lost a world the other day.
Has anybody found?
You'll know it by the row of stars
Around its forehead bound.
A rich man might not notice it;
Yet to my frugal eye
Of more esteem than ducats.
Oh find it, Sir, for me!
~Emily Dickinson

Who in the world am I?

'Who in the world am I? Ah, that's the great puzzle!'
~ Alice in Wonderland

I just want to be something.
Someone.
Devoid of character.
I am not "cool" or "individual"
I am not unique.
I do not stand out.
In complete honesty, I hate myself.
A cliche.
I wish I was born with a personality.
Who am I?

What the eye can't see.

The thing about sickness is that it is internal.
Whether it is in the body or in the mind
The pain
The discomfort
The mutation
Is all within, hidden away from the naked eye.
People battle disease and illness every day
And many of them go by without us knowing it.
The bodies of some people try to overcome infection
Of the blood, heart, stomach, liver, lungs..
An infection of the mind hardly seems significant to compare.

Just because you don't see the pain,
Witness the discomfort
Or understand this mutation
Doesn't mean that it doesn't exist.
It only doesn't exist to you.
But it is real.
Real and hidden.
And the only way these things ever seem to become
Externalised is when it is all simply
Too late.

Paranoia

You want me to fail,
And I can see it.
Feel it.
You point out my flaws and insecurities,
And you make me feel
Small.
Why do I feel like those closest to me are against me?

Exploiting, manipulating and obstructing me?
I feel sabotage from every direction.
But is it really you? Or me?
My worries are amplified by you.

By me.
Is it real?
I point out my flaws and insecurities.
And I make myself feel
Small.
Why do I feel like those closest to me are against me?
Exploiting me? Manipulating me?
Am I seeing this clearly?
Is my mind playing tricks on me?


Friday 17 September 2010

Selfless vs. Selfish

I guess when you look at yourself and try to evaluate the good in your actions, it is necessary to first ask yourself what you define as a good person. As with most things in life, to me there seem to be two conflicting values: our devotion to others, and our devotion to ourselves. In its simplest form, life is not much more complex than a balance between selfless and self-concerned motives.

The reason I ask this is because in a stupid pursuit for perfection, my goal was always to do things to please other people. To reach and achieve other people's expectations of me, to continually do what people demanded of me and to put everyone else's needs before my own. And admirably, this made other people happy; but for me, there was a large price to pay. Enormous strain under mountains of stress, sacrifice of my own relaxation time and an incredible feeling of unmet personal needs. People cannot live a superficial life that only appeases other people without addressing their own basic necessities.

So in search of a balance between the concepts of the other and the self, I began to assert my personal needs and I guess only now am I really beginning to say "no" - an important lesson when you're about to enter the real world. But it's not that easy, simply because I think after a while, people simply become accustomed to taking advantage of you. And I already feel that a number of my personal relationships have involved people placing unrealistic demands on my time, where the time physically exists, but in a spiritually balanced lifestyle, it doesn't. Because despite there being 24 hours in a day, I believe a number of those need to be spent in some sort of personal reflection, relaxation or, more simply, "alone time". I have spent 18 years feeling like I am constantly "on" every minute of the day with things crammed in left, right and centre - why is it so hard to understand that sometimes I want to take a time-out and breathe? I just think some people don't get it... They demand and demand and demand to the point where you feel guilty that you are not spending time with them or not fulfilling their needs, and because it has always been the norm, your needs are suddenly blown away with a small gust of wind, floating away into nothingness just as before...

So I question you, where lies the perfect balance between selfishness and selflessness? Self-sacrifice is admirable, but not even marginally healthy if perpetually performed. But at what point does thinking about your own needs become selfishness? When should you feel rightly guilty for putting yourself first? I am incredibly admirable of compassion and selfless love and value these traits highly, but where is the balance between caring for others and caring for yourself? Perhaps one must also consider for whom one sacrifices themself, and asking whether that person would do the same for you? I don't know...

Saturday 11 September 2010

Duodeviginti

I decided I would not write if I had nothing worth writing about. This, I believe, is worthy of note.

In the past week a number of things have not turned out as I would have planned or hoped, and I've had to find a way to accept them. Today, a piece of news that made me feel rage in every living cell in my body and simply rubbed salt in an already throbbing wound, led not only to a number of tears, but also a number of revelations. For I have learnt that it is most often from our pains, letdowns and disappointments that wisdom is born. I have learnt two very important lessons which I believe are valuable to note. Maybe I took a while to learn them, but now that I know them, it would be nothing less than insanity to make the same make twice.

1. Don't ever do something for praise, recognition or external reward. You must appreciate the intrinsic value you get from things, not the extrinsic reward. Don't do something with two eyes fixated on whatever it is that lies at the end of the tunnel. Live in the moment and do things that you enjoy. In everything you do, enjoy the friends you make, the cakes that you bake, enjoy the sport and music you play or the words that you say. Don't enjoy something when it is finished, but when you are doing it. And for goodness sakes, don't forego enjoyment for external reward, because some of the time, it just doesn't happen. I have spent so long breaking my back, almost killing myself to please other people and to create an image of perfection around myself. It only so happened that when the cherry on top didn't arrive, I learnt one of my most valuable life lessons. Only do things because you enjoy them, because life is too precious to be wasted on living the life of what everyone else wants you to be, not who you want to be. I do not regret for a minute the friends I have made along the way because of my tendency to overwhelm myself with cocurricular activities - Rach, Eliza, Kat, Nick, Matt, Sean, Steve, Julia, Lori, Rhia, James, Alexius, Nick, Alex, James, Adele, Sarah, Emma, Chloe, Bronte, Steph, Miranda, Molly, Airley, Amy, Jess, Fi, Ruby, Ally, Terri, Amy, Kate, Tutai, Dan R, Loz... I guess the list goes on. I do not regret the help, the joy or the laughter that I gave other people and that they gave me. And the reward I have felt in these aspects makes it okay, because for these reasons, I can know that this time was not even close to being completely wasted. Just do not be foolish enough to let your anticipation of extrinsic rewards outweigh the gain of intrinsic ones.

2. There are two types of people in life: those that screw everyone else over to get everything they want, and those who get screwed over by doing the right thing. I recount countless examples of this. People who blame other people only so that they can further their own position in life. People who shift responsibility to make themselves feel better. People who bully others into getting their own way. I think these people are exactly the reason someone invented the saying "Life isn't always fair." Because despite what we want to believe, karma doesn't always work out. These people will become successful and will climb above others in jobs, school and recognition and, in the meantime, the little guy gets left behind. But maybe we then have to consider how we choose to define success. Maybe not success that is limited to a job or career, but perhaps success in life. Because these people lose things. People see who they are and see what they do, and people don't like them. They may be manipulative bastards, so for goodness sakes, do not let them manipulate you. They may win in the workplace, but they lose out in relationships, in friendships and in love - and in the end, the only relationships that they have left are with people who are just as superficial and selfish as they are.

Be happy knowing that people see you just as you are. If you're going to fuck everyone over to get to the top, people won't be stupid enough to fall for your deceptive looks, at least not forever. And if you just pass by, trying to do good by others and potentially missing out on a world of recognition at the same time, people are watching you too. The right people. The people that admire you for everything you do - for every attempt, for every effort, for every responsibility, for every selfless act and for every kind word. Friends. Don't get sucked into the trap of screwing everyone else over just because it works, because in the end, you will lose out in what is really important.

Friday 10 September 2010

Fini - A personal reminder.

Blogging draws me further into myself, not life.
Work ethic is about activity, not intentions.
Emotion should be expressed to people, not a computer.
And the world exists in three dimensions, not two.

Admirable as a blog can be, this one is not.
I am absorbed in myself and in my mind rather than engaging in my surroundings or bringing up useful food for thought.
My mind is plagued by infection and dwelling in my thoughts only lets this disease mutate further.
This is life.
I want to work hard, I want to do things - for school, that I enjoy, with family, with friends.

Just do it.
Life is too short to be wasted on things like Facebook and a blog that makes you feel crap.
Get things done. Do things.
Be engaged in life.
Where the thought or mood cannot motivate the action, let the action govern the mood.
Just do it, damnit.
For goodness sakes, let there be hope.
Create it.

Thursday 9 September 2010

25th Hour

YEAH, FUCK YOU, TOO. Fuck me? Fuck YOU, FUCK YOU and this whole city and everyone in it. Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back. Fuck the squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car - get a fucking job! Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped-up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35. Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English? Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go back where you fucking came from! Fuck the black-hatted Chassidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds! Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gekko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for FUCKING LIFE! You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit? Give me a fucking break! Tyco! Worldcom! Fuck the Puerto Ricans. Twenty to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin' parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, 'cause they make the Puerto Ricans look good. Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, their St. Anthony medallions, swinging their Jason Giambi Louisville Slugger baseball bats, trying to audition for "The Sopranos." Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermès scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny. You're not fooling anybody, sweetheart! Fuck the uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense, they take five steps on every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago. Move the fuck on! Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus-violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust! Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's pants. Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And while you're at it, fuck J.C.! He got off easy! A day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity! Try seven years in fuckin' Otisville, J.! Fuck Osama Bin Laden, al-Qaeda, and backward-ass cave-dwelling fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fuel fire in hell. You towel-headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal Irish ass! Fuck Jacob Elinsky. Whining malcontent. Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery my best friend, judging me while he stares at my girlfriend's ass. Fuck Naturelle Riviera, I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back, sold me up the river, fucking bitch. Fuck my father with his endless grief, standing behind that bar sipping on club sodas, selling whisky to firemen, and cheering the Bronx Bombers. Fuck this whole city and everyone in it. From the row-houses of Astoria to the penthouses on Park Avenue, from the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho. From the tenements in Alphabet City to the brownstones in Park Slope to the split-levels in Staten Island. Let an earthquake crumble it, let the fires rage, let it burn to fucking ash and then let the waters rise and submerge this whole rat-infested place... ~ Monty Brogan, 25th Hour

Monday 6 September 2010

The Swallow

Unencumbered swallow, flying swiftly high above
The trees and the oceans - riding the wind.
Forever free, you have escaped the clutches of man
And struggle to survive the entrapment of our world.
Flying from place to place, always searching for your perfect home,
Chasing an ideal.
Travelling high, low, far and wide,
You fly,
You search,
And you find the spring that you are looking for.
You spread your wings and as you soar, through heavens light, the wind sings
Deror in your passing.
You are uplifted. Liberated.
Free.
But what would you do, dear swallow,
If you never learnt to fly?

18.

i have never had a close friend or relative die. i have never been abused or assaulted. i have never watched anything traumatising unfold. i have never been bullied. i do not come from a broken home. i have practically been wrapped in bubble wrap my entire fucking life. so what is my problem? why does it hurt so much? why can't i cope with any of this?

what's my fucking excuse?

i cannot help despising myself for my weakness. you who know the worst of life must resent me. i thought growing older was supposed to yield some sort of self-understanding and -acceptance, yet i am almost 18 and i cannot help but feel that there is just no hope left. the world becomes bigger, you become smaller and your soul becomes weaker, until it is finally crushed into oblivion by the perpetually unbearable weight of simply being alive.

Friday 3 September 2010

Lost hope.

I want to rage. To hit someone, to hurt someone. I want to cry. To fall apart into a million pieces never to be put back together. I want to punch myself in the brain, to beat myself repeatedly. I want to break anything I hold. I want to release, to exhale after each breath and to relax every tensing muscle. I want to be free. I want to be able to sustain any given emotion for more than a few minutes. I don't want to think anymore, to analyse anymore. I cannot handle consciousness. I want internal to be external. Incessant thought, incessant processing and incessant rationalisation every second of the day is killing me. I am lost. My identity is in ruins. I don't know who I am, and anything I do know I detest. I don't want to be who I am, yet I do not even know what that is. I want to look in the mirror and be able to tell myself that I am okay. I want to open my mouth and believe that the words coming out are worth hearing. To say things to people not only so they listen, but so they care. To inspire. I want to stop caring what other people think, yet this seems to contradict the image I have built of myself. Have I ever done something not to please someone else? I simultaneously desire and detest perfection. Why do I have to care about everything. To analyse everything. To solve everything and feel responsible every damn second of my life. Could I not have been made blind to the issues the world faces? Why must I feel that every problem - big or small - was and is somehow my responsibility to resolve? And why did I ever try to believe I could change anything? The world is a shithole, but what are we going to do about it. I am small, and while I want to believe in myself and in change, I feel powerless. Powerless over myself and over others. I do not believe in myself because I do not like, admire or know who I am. All I know is that I am not who I want to be. In truth and sincerity, I cannot help but think, there is no hope.

Wednesday 25 August 2010

Septendecim

Although part of me likes to believe that humanistic psychology is the load of bullshit that everyone says it is, the past week has seen me experience first-hand Maslow's theoretical concept of the Heirarchy of Needs. A sudden contraction of some ghastly virus combined with a depleted immune system saw my health take a turn for the worse. Overcome by a sore throat, running nose and hacking cough, my priority was not schoolwork, relationships or asking big questions, but rather, getting better again. With my most basic surival needs not being met, everything else was omitted from the picture. Although being run-down and feeling terrible, things were, in a way, good. When we are stripped down to our very core necessities, there need be no other preoccupations. After all, who would worry about the meaning of life when they are busy trying to keep themselves well?

Still on a trail of recovery, it's not like I'm particularly happy or sad, but at the moment, this isn't the biggest priority. Happiness, sadness, meaning, solving global problems - that isn't the focus. The focus is the basics. And how much more content are we all when we strip things back down to simplicity. Although it is important not to perpetually see it as a burden, as we grow up things not only become more interesting, but also more complicated and difficult. Lying on the couch watching movies for two days reminded me of being sick in primary school, staying home and doing exactly the same thing. Nostalgia. But wasn't it nice to just visit those days where no one had a care in the world?

So it made me think. Maybe sometimes we just need to strip things back. Perhaps an overindulgence in the meaning of life and one's place in the world isn't can be not only a virtue, but an impairment. Who would have thought that consciousness could in fact be the danger; that perhaps sickness is the cure and that the disease is really in being fully conscious. Of the world, of yourself, and the insignificance of the role you play. We strive for self-actualisation and for understanding, but who said that being so trapped in consciousness was a good thing?

Monday 16 August 2010

Me.

I should have stopped comparing myself to others years ago.

I cannot write. Think.

Plain. Uninteresting. The epitome of boring.

But that's me.

I cannot be what I am not.

Friday 13 August 2010

Compassion: n. More vigorous than empathy, the feeling commonly gives rise to an active desire to alleviate another's suffering.

To varying degrees, every day of my life is a struggle. In line with Buddhist belief, life is suffering. Whether it is sitting at the forefront of my brain, or is buried beneath a mountain of other preoccupations, the question "What am I doing here?" never ceases to challenge me. Over many years of trying to answer this question, I have expanded my knowledge on life, on people, and also on Buddhist beliefs. A recurring theme in my quest for meaning in my life is that of compassion; surely our lives have significance that stretches beyond ourselves. To genuinely care about others, to do well by others, but most importantly, to have a true desire to relieve others of pain and suffering; to me, this is the essence of our lives. Sometimes it takes a bit of reminding to look past ourselves, but in my opinion, the more we can do this, the more meaning our own lives hold.

The superfluous use of this word in our day to day life has meant that its power and true meaning has gradually been diluted, so here I present to you, some of the Dalai Lama's views on compassion:

"Compassion can be roughly defined in terms of a state of mind that is non-violent, non-harming and non-aggressive. It is a mental attitude based on the wish for others to be free of their suffering and is associated with a sense of commitment, responsibility and respect towards the other"

"Genuine compassion is based on the rationale that all human beings have an innate desire to be happy and overcome suffering"

"In one sense one could define compassion as the feeling of unbearableness at the sight of other people's suffering, other sentient beings' suffering.

"In generating compassion, when you are taking on another's suffering, you may also initially experience a certain degree of discomfort, a sense of uncomfortableness or unbearableness. But in the case of compassion, the feeling is much different; underlying the uncomfortable feeling is a very high level of alertness and determination because you are voluntarily and deliberately accepting another's suffering for a higher purpose. There is a feeling of connectedness and commitment, a willingness to reach out to others, a feeling of freshness rather than dullness"