Saturday, December 27, 2008

I don't believe in second chances, yet tonight I was given the opportunity to correct what may have been a mistake.

In the end, the choice I was tempted to make would have been the mistake. I never liked saying no; in fact, it's a bit of a problem. I rarely say no to anyone, no matter how much it puts me out, yet I found myself saying no to a possible future, no to a path that may have brought a certain happiness and fulfillment to my life.

I finally committed a selfish act; one that leaves me alone, and wondering why I do the things I do, why I feel the way I feel. Yet I am in control, even if it is only to control my loneliness. I gave my heart away, and I have yet to desire its return; I am happier knowing it is in good hands, even if those hands never hold my own.

Loneliness is a state of mind. 'nuff said.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Eddy & the Cruiser

I was driving through the rain tonight. It was a long drive back from my friend's house, and with this virus I was zoning out a little, huddled as I was in my hood and scarf, with the heater on full blast. As I passed beneath the mammoth structures of the new freeway, amongst the tiny bullets of rain pelting down, I saw something flutter down towards me; a tiny, twirling thing, pushing its way through the manic suicide-dives of its fellow travellers.

The tiny thing was swept away from me as it got caught in the eddy of streaming air around my car, and, somewhat paradoxically, for a moment, time did not exist. It was beautiful, fragile, the potential for the moment was endless, inconsequential and exponential, all at once. I felt strong, and renewed, and reminded of the fact that there is magic all around me, at all times, even though more often than not I feel like it has left me for good.

I know this feeling won't last. I know tomorrow when I go back to work I'll feel the apathy tightening again. So I'm trying as hard as I can to hold onto that image. Trying to hold onto the idea that such feeling is readily accessible even to someone as cynical as myself.

In that moment, everything was Right. Every piece of my life was in its correct place, everything, no matter how painful or hard it has been, happened, is happening, for good reason, and no matter what the outcome is, it will be OK. I don't necessarily believe in destiny, except that which I create for myself, so I have to believe I'm creating the perfect future for myself.

If I live long enough, I guess we'll see how that works out.

Monday, November 17, 2008

All is fair in.... ah, what bullshit.

The shower does not hide the taste of salt on my cheeks; if anything, it is magnified, both on my tastebuds and in my head. The pain echoes off the tiles, bouncing back at me with tactical precision.

I won so many battles, but in the end, I lost the war.

A good General, however, never completely gives up all her options, nor does she give away her Top Secret Plans. Those are tucked safely away; give it a few years.

Because this particular piece of territory is too good to give up; let the rebels have it for a while, let them cover it in their communist slogans, let them destroy the infrastructure, deplete the gold reserves and ruin its natural beauty. I'll still be here waiting for when they get bored and move on to the next piece of land. In the meantime, I have other territories to conquer, other places to see. I will not be sitting on my laurels, I will not be curled up in my room moping, I will not be that person.

And if you don't like it, I'm sure my musket can take care of that for you. Pfffft.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

and prejudice...

When I think of all the times I sat back and took the verbal crap that people said about me with a certain amount of dignity, I thought it was because I was the better person. I couldn't understand why I was such an easy target, but I let it slide.

Even I have my limits though, and tonight, I could see the finish line. I was far more angry than my company realised, and frankly, even if they did realise, they'd laugh it off because they probably wouldn't believe anything would come of it. Sometimes, though, it truly is the straw that breaks the camel's back - one seemingly insignificant comment in the tirade of attention-seeking words, that makes me look with different eyes, that makes me realise I have too much pride for this, that if things don't change, then maybe it's finally time to walk away.

It's hard when you know someone cares, but you still don't understand why they behave the way they do. Yet when it comes to choosing between someone that challenges you, or someone that acquiesces to everything you say or do, I know which one I choose.

So maybe it's time I became that person. The person they deserve to be with, or are expected to be with. Someone who has the confidence to tell you to fuck off when you need to be told. Someone who doesn't follow you around like a puppydog, who is strong enough to say that she'd rather sit at home watching a movie than sitting around with you. Who isn't selective about who she goes out of her way for.

Maybe you won't like that person, or recognise her in me, but I'm sure I can pull it off. If only because I have too much pride to let you be right in this moment, too much pride to let you win this battle. This little black duck has far too much at stake to let this go now.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

I hate to resort to lyrics. But tonight is a no-brainer. And too much homework. And too much whisky. So fuck it. This works just as well.

These days you barely even say my name,
Like you don’t really feel the same,
I’m wondering what’s to blame,
These nights I fall asleep wondering where you are,
It feels like we’re falling apart,
And it’s only breaking my heart,
Cause if being with you means being alone,
And never knowing when you’re coming home,
Then I guess I’m better off on my own,

But I can’t move on,
Cause that makes forgetting, forgetting everything we’ve had
Instead I keep coming, keep coming, I keep running back
Cause I keep forgetting, forgetting you treat me so bad
So I keep coming, keep coming, I keep running back
I keep coming back
I keep coming back
I keep coming back
I keep coming back

My friends say that I should leave you behind,
And stop wasting all my time,
They tell me that I am out of my mind,

But I know that what we both share is real,
And I’ve been willing to deal,
With the way that you’re making me feel,

Cause if being with you means being alone,
And never knowing when you’re coming home,
Then I guess I’m better off on my own,

But I can’t move on,
Cause that makes me forgetting, forgetting everything we’ve had
Instead I keep coming, keep coming, I keep running back
Cause I keep forgetting, forgetting you treat me so bad
So I keep coming, keep coming, I keep running back
I keep coming back
I keep coming back
I keep coming back
I keep coming back

Friday, September 26, 2008

Hyde & Seek

Bella has had an interesting week. Bella likes to speak in third person, because sometimes she feels more like she is watching her life unfold, than living it, so bear with her.

Bella has learned a lot from the way people behave towards her. She has learned to recognise the signs, see beyond the pale, and figure out who people truly are (as opposed to what they pretend to be).

God help you if you try to get close to her now.

Words are strange, especially in a digital world. You may think they can mean anything; the truth is they mean *everything*. You cannot hide behind them here. What you choose to say, or not say, speaks more about the person you are than than anything else. Simply put, the fact that you can pick and choose the words you write, think carefully, delete, replace, means you only show a certain something about yourself - but there are phrases between the words, nuances upon the letters, and ripples beneath the waves.

You think I don't see it, but I do.

Woops, there goes the third person. I guess you can understand my meaning, now.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Hesitation and subjugation

When so many people say something about you, it becomes easy to believe it after a while. Since I was a child, I was told how bright I was, how intelligent, that one day I'd 'go far'.

But the truth is, I've deceived them all.

Yes, I am very good. I am very good at understanding the bare essentials of almost any topic you can think of, and convincing you that I'm an expert. I float on the top of the ocean of knowledge, never choosing any one specialty to dive into, to dedicate my attention, or time, or life to. You think I'm going to become a Maritime Archaeologist, purely because I've convinced you I will.

I wish I had something to be proud of. I wish there was something I could hold up and go, "Look at what I've achieved".

I can be a pretty good writer; I've won awards for poetry and short-stories (published, even, but not many people knew that). I'm a good musician; I can pick up the basics of most stringed instruments, and have a talent - up to a point - for the harp (I play by ear, because I never really picked up theory well). I can argue politics, because I have a certain naivety in terms of ideology that some people find charming. I know a little about a lot of different periods of history, science and literature, and have even read the Old English version of Beowulf. I can easily see three sides to an argument, and choose any one depending on my mood and company.

Essentially, I'm a good actor. I can pretend to be all these things, to do all these things, and at times I even enjoy it. I think of all the characters I have played, and it reads like a Shakespearean cast list. Or perhaps a Greek Tragedy would be more suitable.

Hell, maybe I'm acting right now.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008


These photos are like lucid dreams; the sights, the smells, the emotions, they are all present and accounted for. Moreso than for the better part of the last three years, since I said goodbye to that tiny anti-spark. The aggression has gone, and the senses are waking up - I didn't even realise that they had gone to sleep. The memories, how things felt, all suddenly ring false; the fact that I remember them at all is a step forward.

A sideways view is better than nothing at all, and the mineshaft this Alice fell down is echoing painfully with the sound of clocks. Time is running out, my White Rabbit has come and gone, and I'm left here, white gloves dangling ridiculously from my pocket. Discarded fairytales find refuge in the imagination as dreams, broken and disjointed.

This awkwardness, shyness, cloistering... is not like the old Alice. She was a huntress, chasing that White Rabbit through the strange, the weird, the perverted. Never giving up, even when threatened by the Queen of all Hearts. One phone call threw the world into chaos, one phone call uncovered a path she thought she left behind, and suddenly this Alice wasn't sure whether she was chasing the Rabbit, or seeking the Hatter.

At least the Chesire Cat is still smiling.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

The Cat's Meow

As I walked up the steps to my house, a rare and familiar scent enveloped me.

Cherry Blossoms.

And the memories of the last time they bloomed brought such yearning that I stopped dead in my tracks. How bittersweet.

How annoying. Never have been one for letting go of control, for allowing someone or something to dictate any of my actions, I have fought like a tiger for my independence of the tight bands of control, and I still have the scratches to prove it.

So I shook it off, walked inside, and promptly shut off that part of my mind.

Denial. Independence. Same thing, really.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008


There is potential in everything. However, this is no reason to put all your eggs in one basket. Directly all one's energy towards a single endeavour will inevitably drain you, and, in my experience, usually fails.

You either like the chase, or you like being chased. Right now I feel like the hound, knowing there is no reason to chase the fox, but unable to resist sniffing around, looking for a path that leads to it. My head says to stay away, but my heart insists on trying, trying, trying again. And that is exactly what would push ME away, if I was on the other side.

So. Relaxing my hackles, I'm taking a back seat. Watching with interest what unfolds, and seeing where the path leads before I pursue it again, if I ever do...

Because this heart beats hard, and fast, and singularly in tune with his.


Honestly, I read too much into everything.

Sunday, September 7, 2008


... seems like it's spinning, a vortex. Quite literally, actually.

And the ideas, they are coming faster and more frequently, and I can't write them down fast enough to retain their magic.

She opened the door again, a sweet drink of ginger and honey, and there they all were; all my pretties, banging on the door until their hands were raw, and their wrists bled the light from them. Now they file in, one by one, two by two, and my own fingers hurt from committing them to digitised format.

My head continues to spin.
Sleep escapes me.
He eludes me.

But at least I'm writing again.