Diary-Like Entry...

Well I guess no mind-blowing entry for today, I feel waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too hyped up to at least thing rationally, lols. (Haha, Am I able to write any mind-blowing entry anyway.... ^ ^)

Not that the situation I'm in bugs me.... I would say: on the contrary. I just had one of the best week-end in my whole life, and Christ forbid, I hold on to those precious moments as some safe haven in that sea of tourments I am in now, and go me! for the cheesy image....

Though, when my mind is not set on tickle mode (XD), it comes to think a bit more about the actions/reactions such a situation will inevitably leads to. And, granted, I got a lot of flews, but being a liar is not one of them. And I simply cannot bear all those semi-confessions and innuendos anymore........ I want to tell everyone the who, the whys and the hows, even if I am afraid of being judged. Sad to say, I'm still a bit self-conscious about it, I mean, will people understand my point of view?

But WHAT situation, some of you might asked, the mouse ready to click away from that personal blurb....

Thing is: I am helplessly falling in love right now. More accurately, I am willing to receive/give back his feelings, have them grow between each other, maybe test the waters a bit further (which, mind you, are on process to be dived into willingly ^ ^, and which, for those who know me, are totally knew...). Thing is : the realisation of it came as a total surprise, I mean, the line between friendship and care has been crossed a few time ago, and I felt myself willing to yield in....More exactly, I let go all the feelings I was repressing for a while...

And I don't want to take anything back. And now I have accepted to make it known. Well, slowly first, because I could not stand any joking right now..... I am too passionnate still, I feel too high, and I dread my overreacting......Though somehow, I trust the people reactions too.....I know all this, again, is taking place on a weird environment, where all the people only know each other virtually..... can't help feelings to grow, though, especially when you get to actually hear voices, smiles, whispers, or when you are trying your best to plan something out to make it work, really happen; still being aware of the risks, of the (dreaded) possibility that we might not get on well in flesh and bones....

But I am an optimistic right now, and I won't let go before I even try.....

Sigh.....I am sorry for saying only blurred things, but there are some details I like better keep for ourselves...Just to tell you how important and precious this is growing for me....


So far I made up my mind, and I am ready to unveil things, but in a natural way, little by little.... and I will wait for his agreing with me on this before saying anything...^ ^

Bliss

I feel so happy!

I feel so cheerful!

I feel so warm!

I feel so comfortable!

I feel so strong!

I feel so confident!

I feel so smiling!

I feel all this, and this time it is not even painful, nor sad. I hope, Ido hope, I take any chances on you, I am there, I have your voice near me.....

I want to believe there's a future for us.

I want to find a way for both of us.

Mahal kita...

Inner Thoughts

Taking my leave.

Try and thinking right. Find back my own writing.

Events do not move anymore. I feel trapped by my feelings, unable to make out if I do not go right ahead in the wall. When will I learn to trust again?

The Purple Rose of Cairo. I feel like he is jumping in my life out of a screen, too. Is there a future for us, somewhere?

I want a future for us, somehow.

Shrimps. And white wine. For me to cook tonight. Staying alive, even if the forthcoming pain is putting me down yet. Changing moods, that I've been knowing for 15 years now, and that I still cannot entirely tame down.

I want him. I desire him. He knows it. I'm afraid of physical pain, yes. Too much stress and anticipation, someone comfort me on that point. I wanna tell everyone about him, and keep it secret. I want him to desire me.

Shoah. Images of a past that I do not wanna witness again. Auschwitz-Birkenau. Bergen-Belsen. Sobibor. Chelmno. Treblinka. Dachau. And so many more. Too many more.

God. His presence, or His absence. His religion I cannot believe in.

Questions, Readings, Feelings, a pseudo-forum war I do not give a damn to, and real biting sadness I simply cannot comment on. Breanne, I wish I had the words, but they are escaping me…..I wish I could be as strong as you seem to be….

Loneliness. Somewhat pleasant, when I need to focus on. Could you understand it? Could you feel when I want to stay alone, or when my silence is a call for having you near me? How can I be closer to you? How can I understand you better?

How can I get out of myself, out of my Ivory Tower that have me choking right now?

Rilo Kiley

Concert tickets maybe soon.....

Now this was a weird story, too...

A few weeks ago, i met my friend, back from Sweden for a few days....So i met her in a bar, and there were some of her friends, that i had never met......On the conversation goes, and we told about our projects, me saying i was craving for some Rilo concert coming soon....*

And here that guy, Jan, who i haven't ever met, told me "okay, since i am a big concerts fan, maybe i can get free tickets for you...all i shall ask is you to help me distributing flyers before the concert...."

So he made a demand, and it looks like i shall get those 2 free tickets eventually.....
Nothing certain yet, but i still do hope !!!!


How do you call that kind of event again?

Serendipity? ^ ^

Because Emotional Entries do feel Good, Too....

Okay....

Things are moving so fast around me right now , and in such an expected way....

And I wish I had more time to do everything I want to...

Funny how life can reserve you surprises, and some brighter side, when it's the least unexpected. All I want now....is let got, bathe myself into this happiness and comfort he gives me, while I slowly get to know him, and trust him... Be patient, dear, because I can be such a frightenen creature....

All apologize to Clairobscur....I promise I shall write asap....

"I Remember" ("L" copyrighted)

So last night, I had some strong childhood memories rushing in my head….

I remember summer nights, a light scent of hay in the air. Bugs dancing all around, and the softness of herbs on my skin. I remember the wind swirling in my nightgown, as I took a ride on my swing.

I remember Wednesdays, the smell of cinnamom wafels as I came back from school.

I remember the recess, and the paved playground, that soon became my own univerese. I was a flying unicorn, stretching my wings away from the bullies. They could make me cry, but they'd never catch me.

I remember my begging for friendship, and the slap in return.

I remember the attic, my fear of crossing the two first rooms, dark and dusty, rooftiles whitened by lurking cobwebs. Then my relief as i entered the last attic room, all white and heaten by the sunshine, scents of dust and oil paitings. That's when I would start to browse my dad's charcoal drawings, dreaming away at his farms, landscapes or mountain views.

I remember being alone, never fitting in. Dressed as the underdog. Swirling skirts when Burlington and Benetton were the fashion codes.

I remember the glasses and the braces, the laughters and the naughty comments. "Serpent à lunettes" was my nickname at that time…

I remember that guy on his motorbike. Asking my name, then following me home. The cold sweat of my back while, in my innoncence, I sensed he wasn't wishing me any good. I remember my speeding down the country road to my house, my coming home in a rush. Falling in my bed, saying nothing, waiting my heart to pace down. "Is everything okay?", I heard my mother asking. "I'm fine, Mom" I aswered. Not too sure what I had escaped, but certain I did. And until that day, my fears remaining.

I remember my singing in solo for the first time, during a choir rehearsal. My friend pushing me on the back, towards the others and the unknown. "yes she got that nice voice". My little revenge against "them". But still no trust allowed.

I remember my dad working in the stable. Lots of wood and tools. I remember the damp and the cold. Then, when my babbling around would be enough, he would gently send me out with a toy boat he made for me. Only two or three pieces of wood, roughly put together, and I brought it outside and floating in the rainwater tub.

I remember my playing around. Dressed in my mom clothes, I was a princess or a warrior. I could invent a whole bunch of "friends" around, talking with them as if they were real. The game stopped at dinner time, then resumed again. Was I living in dream or reality anyway? I still can remember most of the stories I was in. Soldier in devastated unknown cities (the farm buildings , and their many doors were fitting allright), I rode my horse, holding my blade tight. Horse and weapon were plain wooden branch, but wtf? They were so real to me…

I remember the geese and the chicken in the courtyard.. I remember the blood in my dad's axe, and my silently watching the ordeal. I remember when, their heads cut off and the blood spilling, my dad would hold them tight, until they had completely stopped moving. I remember the smell of their bodies drowned in hot water, the smell of dust, feather and warm flesh I remember the weight of their dead bodies , as I hung the in my hands, firmly gripping them by the legs, their dead meat dangling in front of me, as I was bringing them to my mom in the kitchen.

I remember my playing with the chairs in the lounge, transforming them into improbable spaceships…

I remember walking around the house, holding a mirror that reflected the ceiling. Then I would pretend I could only see the reflexion, and would giggle at my disorientation.

I remember the spanking, when I was being wicked.

I remember riding on my bike, the roar it made when i put playing cards between the wheels. The late evening light, and the feeling of emptiness. Not a soul, not a passer-by.

I remember the winters, and the snow falling in such thick layers that it obliged me to stay home for a week… Back then our house would be secluded in the countryside, only at a few kilometers from the city, but seeming abandoned or untouched by civilization.

I remember how I loved French classes and how I hate mathematics. Calculus would always have me cry.

I remember how I hated PE classes. My fear of gymnastic devices, the pain when I fell of them, and the teacher laughing at me.

I remember how we used to roam around the HS buildings, during recess ( I was in the same school for both Elementary and HighSchool ). Of course, no one could stay in the building during lunch. That's why it was so thrilling to lurk around the empty halls. I rember one day my friend and I were caught by the Janitor. As my friend started to cry, I firmly explain to the man that we lost ourselves while searching for the lavatories. Then he gently showed us the way. And saved us from detention…

I remember the quarrels, my always getting into some fuss, for one reason or another.

I remember always ranking first in poetry. I mean we had to learn little poems by heart, then perform in front of the class. I was someone else's away from my ugly body. I could mesmerize them by my voice. I could outsmart them at last. And they could not strike back at me.

I remember I was a somewhat quiet kid when being amongst adults. Always behaving, never fussing. I remember I could laugh so hard about little nothings, that even my mom would laugh to.

I remember staying alone at home, when my parents had to go out. I remember I could pretend dying, or being in serious danger. One day, pretending I had lost everything, I made myself actually cry.

I remember I never played with dolls.

I remember that the first day I had to wear bra's was a real catastrophy. Have you ever seen a fearless knight wearing a bra?

I remember how everything changed when I went to highschool. How every kids seemed to have grown up, while I was stuck in my fantasy world. I would never giving in, though.

I remember every single events as if it was yesterday....

Exhausted

so said the Entry Title.

No more Words for today.....

Watching the Fall from the Inside

There is something like a morbid fascination in witnessing your little world falling to pieces around you. You are the silent watcher, already a stranger to those events who might affect your life, but in which you cannot have a firm grip on anymore.

It’s like being the main actor of your soap opera life, and at the same time, watching you moving from above. Some choose the talking away, other prefers to hide, and pretending they still have a grip on everything. Their eyes are emptied from any light, their smiles seems coin-operated, and you hardly ever talk with them, for fear to have them breaking down before your eyes.

As for myself, I chosen to act the most casual possible, even if the ravens and the lawyers might fall upon us at no time. It’s okay, my personal effects never haunted the premises, all my links and writings have already vanished, drown into zeros and ones again.

I am still afraid though.

The only thing I am certain about , is the further decision I will have to take. Choosing risks instead of a relative security I am getting sick of.

You said a doubled-side situation?

Ecrire, pour ne jamais mourir...

Last night I was musing about the writing process.

About what leads some people to write away their innermost thoughts. Shamelessly. Is it out of passion, is it a way of getting away from their fears, their questions? On that field, blogs looks like a blessing, since it allows you not to face your worries all alone. There could be someone lurking around there, who could have the answer of that unanswerable question of yours.

How come it seems much more easier to write at night? Looks like in the mornings, thoughts are not yet awoken. Or maybe they are too logical, too rational to even lead to good writing material….Anyway that's how I have always felt. Not that I am a real nightbird, too bad my body cannot stand it anymore, but any single story I ever written, or at least tried to, were all made at night. That fact didn't struck me until I read a friend's post about it. Well more about his insomia loving but still, his writing seemed to fit that pattern, too. Strange. You feel kinda unique, until you meet your nearly twin over there, across the ocean. Then you cannot help wondering how many of then are still around, undiscovered. "Hey, why don't you read me? So that I know that I do exist for real?"

And why this urge to write in a language that I do not even completely master?

Anyway, yet another question: is the writing simply a way to escape reality? As some might choose to watch a movie, other like better inventing stories on their own?

Nothing new under the sun I know. I bet there are tons of tons of people who asked those very same questions before me. As for myself, all I know is that I couldn't leave without writing. Even if I know I am not that talented, and that I certainly never make it through, to me it's like a drug. Three blogs, all with specific purpose, one paper Diary, countless notebooks and papers, filled with stories, letters, letter drafts, discarded sheets or anything goes. Notebooks I have forgotten, stories I don't even remember the purpose of, and a good gazillion of posts in forums, boxes of emails, printed or not, Personal Messages, postcards, notes on my hands, sometimes, annoted book margins (with pencil only). A flooding of words, as the continuation of my thoughts. As if I was afraid of not leaving a trace behind. Maybe my fear of myself. All those desires that my body cannot contain. The courage of projecting some ideal self on paper.

A real nice drug anyway. Cheap, I can get my daily fix with pen and paper only, addictive (Courting the muse since 1983 AD), low-maintenance (bring on your imagination, Golly), even if I feel like I lack experience in certain domains…, funny (chanllenges rules, and are good for the complexion), auto-analyzing (so that I won't spend dough to some dull Psychoanalist or whatever, telling me I have some serious personality disorder...….yup, you read from a girl who kept his imaginary friends longer than normal average…^ ^)

Intoxication.

So strong that sometimes I feel the need to get away from it, numbing my mind into some time-consuming, thinking-free activities, to better find it back later.

No real answer yet, but certainly the will to go on. Even if nothing won't stand out of all those words

This is not a new entry

Still fumbling with the settings...


Oh and by the way.....go and visit this: http://mojoshivers.blogspot.com/

This is real good stuff ^ ^

Welcome!

previous entries @ http://www.blurty.com/users/inuchan