Empty Hole

I feel sad.

I don't really have a reason to.  Not a real reason.  Sure, I can use the excuse that I hate winter; I hate being cold.  I could say I 'miss home', but home isn't a place to me.  I could say that I'm stressed and overworked, and it would be true.  But it's not an excuse.  I've been overworked before.  I can handle stress.  I can't even use the light dusting of snow and ice as an excuse.  Because all of those things mean nothing.

This sadness consumes me.  Like an empty hole somewhere inside me.  And all of the light and sunshine-- okay the dark and twisted happiness around me gets sucked into it.  My life is good.  I have money issues, but who doesn't these days?  I have a wonderful family, a perfectly happy relationship, and I do what I love.  But somewhere inside me, that little girl who is still a part of me is crying.

And I know why.

I don't like the reason why.  But I can't deny it's truth.  And for three long years it's been slowly eating away, like acid, in the pits of my heart.  I hate admitting it.  I hate looking at that part of my life.  My past.  It's bright and shiny and fake.  All sugar coated and candy covered to hide the rotten parts underneath.  But that doesn't change the facts of the reason I am sad.  And there is nothing I can do to change it, short of having a time machine.  And even if I did have such a contraption, I'm not sure it would make a difference.  Most likely I'd end up looping time circles, trying to fix what will forever stay broken, just like in H.G Wells' The Time Machine.  

You see, I hurt someone.  I hurt them badly.  I was a child at the time.  I didn't really understand what was going on.  All I knew was that something had to change.  So I changed it.  And it was a good thing.  But in the process there was some damage done that could never be undone.  And now there is this one thread, this one thing, from my past.  Tying me down.  Holding me back.  I wish I could say sorry, but I'm not sure what I'd be sorry for.  I wish I could say I still care, but I doubt they'd believe me.  After all, no matter how much I care, it doesn't change me.  I'm not the same girl I was then; not the same girl that this person cared for.  And I know that they'd be shocked to see me now.   And that they wouldn't understand.  But I'm still sorry, and I wish they could understand.  I wish I could show them.  But I can't.  Ever. 

That person is gone from my life.  And I'm left with these tiny threads, tying me the past.  Like cobwebs, clinging to my heart.  I'll never be rid of them.  I'm sure of it.

Insomniac

So, I'm sitting here.  In the dark.  Listening to a house full of snores, wondering why I'm still awake.  It's very unusual for me to be awake.  As much as I like the night and the dark, I also really like to sleep.  I have wonderful dreams.  But it seems I won't be dreaming this night.

This whole day has been off for me.  I knew something was up when I felt a desire to clean.  That just can't be normal.  And then later I just had to make something.  It  was with the same need of a starving man reaching for food when I reached for my paints.  And as I started brushing paint across my canvas, I wondered.  Wondered if something might be wrong with me.  Because, you see, I never just start something.  I'm not the kind of person who can sit and paint a picture straight out of my head.  I have to plan.  To find models, ideas, and stock images.  Place them just so.  Draw it out.  Trace it.  Question it.  Rinse and repeat.  

But not tonight.  Tonight I went on impulse.  And I'm actually happy with the resulting work so far.  Unusual.  This energy.  I don't know where it's come from.  It's like I'm wired to a car battery.  Been possessed by the Energizer bunny.  Who knows.  

But whatever it is, I am here now.  Tapping on the keys slowly, so as not to wake anyone.  Wondering exactly what I'm doing here.  I don't really have anything important to say.  Usually I come to this place when I have a message; something to get off my chest.  Tonight... I'm just rambling.  Like a train without tracks.  I suppose it's fitting.  I am the Queen of Derailment.  Ah, well.  Can't fight with the crown.  Sometimes you just have to wear it.

Aphrodite's Dream

I used to think that there wasn't anything in this world that was perfect.  Not one single thing.  But I was wrong.  There is one thing, and one thing only, that is perfect.  That is love. 

Love is never failing, never ending.  And anyone who says otherwise hasn't experienced it.  The relationships that accompany love, and the emotions that love influences, aren't perfect.  The people who love aren't perfect.  They make mistakes.  Do things wrong.  But love is an entity beyond humanity.  Love is something that is more than what it can be defined as.  Love is the only thing that makes this world worth living in.  Everything else in the world that is good or beautiful is colored by love.  Without love, those things would not exist.

And you can argue all you want.  Say whatever things you want.  But it's true.  Love is the only perfect thing we have.  It can't be stopped by any means.  It can't be broken, or forgotten.  It can't be accidentally thrown out.  And it can't be avoided.

No matter who you are, or where you are, or what you do, you can't avoid love.  You can't live without it.  Even if you only love yourself, you have to love something.  Even the meanest, most shrewd person in the world needs love.  It's as essential to our existence as air or food.  

So of all the things in the world that I cherish, I cherish love the most.  For its limitlessness.  For its irrationality.  For its perfection.

Feeling Inhuman

            Humans are creatures of habit.  They take the same routes to work.  Ride the same buses.  Drink the same drinks, order the same foods, and use the same shampoo over and over again.  They like stability.  A ‘nine-to-five’ job, a routine before bed, a certain way they brush their hair.  It’s true of older people, more than younger, but even the most rebellious of teenagers can appreciate habit.  Even chaos can be habitual. 

            It is for this reason that I wonder if I am human.  Or at least, how much of me is human.  I crave change.  Not disorder, or chaos, though I appreciate these things in their own right.  But CHANGE.  I like new things, learning, developing.  Every day I wake to find that I am not the same person I was the day before, no matter how small that change might be.  It might be that I’ve decided I like two scoops of sugar in my coffee, instead of the normal five.  Or it could be that I wake to find that I no longer love the same person I did.  Staying in the same place wears on me, physically, mentally, and emotionally.  Having a static life drains me.  The same job.  The same food.  I crave something new.  ‘As changeable as the winds’, or so they say.  Perhaps that’s why I dream of having wings.  That I might take flight across the world at any time the fancy takes me. 

            Now, I’m not suggesting I’m an alien, or anything.  Just that, I am not entirely the same as the rest of the human race.  Perhaps I’m insane, and this is how insanity feels.  Perhaps I’m some form of mutation, sans cool super-powers.  Perhaps I am simply anachronistic, in the wrong time.  A soul that was intended for a time long past, or yet to come, but through some mishap of fate, ended up here.

            Who can be sure?  There are no answers for questions like that.  But one thing is certain.  I crave change.  And change must happen.  Soon.  Before my head explodes.  Either the world will change and sweep me along, or I will change it on my own.  But I can not abide this static world much longer.

Untiy, Not Conformity

Just think about it for a minute. No, really. Think. What does the word 'unity' mean to you? What about peace? What about love? So many people preach it. Peace, love, and understanding. But what does it really mean? I hear people in church proclaiming to love their neighbor. And the same people curse their neighbor who is gay or lesbian. I see people out protesting the war. Asking for peace. I see the same people starting riots. And I just don't get it. So I want people to think.

Since when was love something you gave only to people who agree with your way of life? Since when was peace something that could only be shared between friends? When did 'love thy neighbor' become 'love they neighbor only if they are like you'? And we all do it. Maybe not intentionally. Maybe just out of instinct. Maybe out of habit. Maybe out of fear. But I want that to change.

Unity, not conformity. It means that we can all live united, even when we don't agree. It means that peace is something that doesn't have to be bought with wars. It means 'listen' and it means 'share'. It means 'no fear'. I don't want to start a major revolution. I just want people to learn to live. How much of your life is lived in fear and sorrow. And who is to blame for it? Is it your gay neighbor's fault for not living the way you do? Is it the Wicca family down the street? Is it the government making choices for you? No! These things may affect you, but only because you let them.

You can try and place the blame all you want. But you know the truth of it is that you let it get this way. It's your fault, and it's my fault, and it's every one's fault. We could have done something. But we didn't. It's time to change that. It's not to late to change. Keep an open mind. Listen to people. Listen to the world. Listen to yourself. And just think.

Unity. Not Conformity.

Fishbowl Mind

Sometimes I think that if I were a character of myth, I would be a muse. My head is constantly filled with ideas. Ideas that someone should do. Anyone. Doesn't have to be me. They swim around my brain, like brightly colored fish, flashing brilliantly in the light of ingenuity, and then darting back into the shadows to lurk. I wish I had time to do them all. To invent everything I've thought of. All the crafts, the bits and pieces. Sometimes I do a few of them. Sometimes I start something, and another brightly colored fish catches my attention, leaving the other thing behind unfinished. Sometimes I simply don't have the time or the skills to be able to pull off my grand schemes.

It makes me feel like my head is an overstuffed library. Filled with half finished books piled up in hallways, over flowing from shelves, and notes from pages floating around freely. Footsteps muffled by paper, and voices that are screaming to be found among the lost stacks. Ideas for novels, for poems, crafts, art, jewelry, inventions; things I want to say, things I forget about till several years later.

If I were a muse than maybe my head wouldn't feel so haphazard. I could whisper my ideas into the minds of those who have the time and skill to finish them; to care for them lovingly. Seeing my ideas brought into fruition by masters would be enough thanks for me. To see all my ideas become real.

But I am only mortal. I can not whisper, unseen, into the ears of masters. I do my best to fulfill what ideas I can. And I watch all the brightly colored fish, flitting about so temptingly, just as longingly as a mischievous cat. Wishing I could catch them all between my paws.

Circuitous

Spring seems to have jumped upon us rather quickly this year. In all of her vigor to bloom, she seems to have rushed Old Man Winter and chased him off rather thoroughly. But I know that Winter is far to devious to allow Spring that much leeway. He is waiting. Waiting for the right moment to jump us with another week of bitter cold. But for now, I enjoy Spring's folly. Before to long Summer will come, and the cycle continues on. And on. Like the rest of life. Beginning and ending. Continuously chasing it' tail around and around. We see change and new-ness, but in reality, everything is part of the same circular track. We just haven't the foresight to see it. We continue around, so proud of our circuitous route, oblivious of everything else around it. And occasionally someone strays of the track. But most often they come back. We rebel, thinking we are the first to do so. We conform again. Rise and fall. Like waves upon a beach. And there is nothing else.

World As It Is

Did you ever notice just how depressing it is to go to the mall? And not just a personal 'I don't like people' kind of depressing. More a 'this is the state of mankind? Yup, we're doomed.' See all the happy people? Gushing over those new shoes, which are most likely, the most uncomfortable thing to wear. But one must sacrifice to the alter of fashion! Did you see that new top at that one store! Adorable, right? No, not really. But they buy it anyways. Consumers. Feeding the machine. And the machine feeds them. Here's another spoonful of brainwashing. You must buy these jeans! Oh, look at that poorly embroidered jacket! Isn't it darling! Erg. I'm starting to think they put chemicals in hair dye to make people more gullible. No, really, I mean it!

And here, am I. Sadly watching as my favorite places sell out to the popular crowd. Pretty soon, every where in the commercial world will be a proper ray of sunshine. Artificial sunshine. Bright. Shiny. Soulless. Where then, will we go? We, of the independent thought. Those of us who give a damn about something other than simple contentment for just our selves. Are there enough of us left in this world to save it when it goes under? When it drowns in pool of bottle blonde look-a-likes? I wonder, sometimes.....

Only time will tell. Only time. Until then, I wander. Filled with sorrow and despair. And, oh look.... pretty skullys!

Trains of Tomorrow's Thought

I've been accused of derailing conversations too often, so now I'll just talk to myself. You can listen in if you want. Just don't interrupt. It could be hazardous.

People talk about thoughts as being trains. As in "I've just lost my train of thought." I think my train has been lost for a long, long time. But that's what makes life interesting. People today are so wrapped up in tomorrow that they can't see today. "Live for the moment" has become "Live for tomorrow." Not that there's anything wrong with tomorrow. But you see, we don't live in tomorrow. We live in today. If we're always thinking about tomorrow, then we miss today. And today is a lot better than people think it is.

And that's another thing. So many people complaining about how today is affecting tomorrow. But they won't do anything about it. They make plans to do things... tomorrow. They talk about a better future. Well my question is, what about a better today? It's the little things that count really. Not organizing a huge rally for the rainforest's, or boycotting gas prices for one day. We have do to something today, everyday. You can't treat life's problems like so many people treat church. Go on a Sunday, and forget about it for the rest of the week. You have to live it. Sure, it's difficult. Buy hey, that's life. Easy is boring. Boring is something I can't deal with. Difficult is a challenge. I can handle a challenge. And hey, no matter how bad it gets, there's always tomorrow, right? ;)