Variants
She seats upon the heated sidewalk, slowly revealing the form of ehr pointed pencil. Cut here, now, then. She looks to the horizon and the blue blinds her. There is nothing she wants, nothing she longs for. Horizon stretches on forever and ever. She feels lost.
The fire above is white-hot. White she understands, as the greatest extreme of the inner turmoils. She is like that, extremes in the dancing motions of fire. Or so she'd rather think. It helps her sleep at night.
Saturday, August 30, 2003
Everybody's Fool
Somehow, somewhere, I feel like I've made a terrible mistake.
My lenses are off and the flower's burning in the afternoon sun are like melting bludges of color in an impresionistic portriat. I cannot help but wonder what Ake would say if he could see the suburban horror of palms and tawny beaches that mocks me as I write. Skaters and bikini clad blondes and the fact that I am probably exaggerating. It may just be the shocking deception, that I had imagined this place so differently and despite my protests thought of it as a chance to find happiness of some strange nature. The climate is strange, the people more so and yet everything recalling some ancient postcard of sentimental value.
I don't feel I'll belong here.
I left my house looking through the door's glass expecting perhaps a little ghost that would not scare me, as the mouse didn't scare me. Because that was not my home any longer. Those were not my problems nor my worries now.
The sense of incompleteness strangles me. I've forgotten something important , so many things I would like to have done or given. Maybe that's the urge to work, to sit outside my motel room and set down what I'll pour into the screen as soon as I get the chance.
I think I'm starting to fear this, more than ever; it is anger and anguish, not the soft, translucent sorrow of the morning or the selfish reticence of the last months.
I had imagined so many things, created a universe where I was heroine and couldn't care less for what all these strangers thought. But the fact is I care, I am starved for love as I've always been. Millie was right, loneliness can kill, and I know I don't want to die.
I was expecting so much of this place and this is only the first real shock, the first real dissappointment. Coming so far down this brave long day, passing through exhaustion and the painful childlike expectancy.
That is me, for whom everything must be perfect and made and handed on bended knees. Every word, every coma in the right place, to create, to give meaning; to make this diary something worth reading. All these abilites I have lost and shattered fot the sake of periodicy, as if I have betrayed my dream , my silent promise to make everything fit. To emulate the great ones of my art.
This will pass, it is only the first instants, it is only the chemics stinging my eyes. It will all pass.
I want to walk along the beach with my mother. I'm thankful, as alwaysshe's by my side.
Somehow, somewhere, I feel like I've made a terrible mistake.
My lenses are off and the flower's burning in the afternoon sun are like melting bludges of color in an impresionistic portriat. I cannot help but wonder what Ake would say if he could see the suburban horror of palms and tawny beaches that mocks me as I write. Skaters and bikini clad blondes and the fact that I am probably exaggerating. It may just be the shocking deception, that I had imagined this place so differently and despite my protests thought of it as a chance to find happiness of some strange nature. The climate is strange, the people more so and yet everything recalling some ancient postcard of sentimental value.
I don't feel I'll belong here.
I left my house looking through the door's glass expecting perhaps a little ghost that would not scare me, as the mouse didn't scare me. Because that was not my home any longer. Those were not my problems nor my worries now.
The sense of incompleteness strangles me. I've forgotten something important , so many things I would like to have done or given. Maybe that's the urge to work, to sit outside my motel room and set down what I'll pour into the screen as soon as I get the chance.
I think I'm starting to fear this, more than ever; it is anger and anguish, not the soft, translucent sorrow of the morning or the selfish reticence of the last months.
I had imagined so many things, created a universe where I was heroine and couldn't care less for what all these strangers thought. But the fact is I care, I am starved for love as I've always been. Millie was right, loneliness can kill, and I know I don't want to die.
I was expecting so much of this place and this is only the first real shock, the first real dissappointment. Coming so far down this brave long day, passing through exhaustion and the painful childlike expectancy.
That is me, for whom everything must be perfect and made and handed on bended knees. Every word, every coma in the right place, to create, to give meaning; to make this diary something worth reading. All these abilites I have lost and shattered fot the sake of periodicy, as if I have betrayed my dream , my silent promise to make everything fit. To emulate the great ones of my art.
This will pass, it is only the first instants, it is only the chemics stinging my eyes. It will all pass.
I want to walk along the beach with my mother. I'm thankful, as alwaysshe's by my side.
The Last Word
It seems that I am walking in a dream. That I didn't really wake up, more tired than the day before. This is the last time I write from my computer for some three or four months. I'm leaving, in two hours time. Finally I'm starting to believe it's happening, finally everything is hurting as it should hurt and I'm crying because I'll miss everyone and everything. I'm going to miss my old life even as I start the new one, because I know that when I'm back I'll be someone else, something more.
Fancy words, just dancing on the tip of my fingers as I write them.
I just wanted this day to end. I don't know how we ever got through with everything, with all the things that happened and all the things we still had to do. I don't know how I woke up to find myself ready to take care of my tenth year grades or my mother's backup. I don't know how I could be ready to go and say goodbye to my aging aunt in the hospital or to say goodbye to my friends as I held them for the last time in three months. I couldn't cry. I wanted to, I was just to exhausted and rushed to bring myself to do it. I had a most horrible nausea and a headache, I was so tired, so hot, so hopeless. It seemed I would be sick at any moment and yet I still managed to have everything done... now I cannot seem to shake off the feeling of discontent, that I'm still missing so much and that I want to be on the plane with nothing but sleeping to do. I want to start, I'm so tired of ending.
I'm leaving my house, I want to see the new one. I'm leaving my city and I want to know the new one. I want to get the feel of, the atmosphere, the particular breath of life it will have. I want to feel the streets under my feet and I want to work and I want to do things and create things and I'm so tired...
I went to see my aunt at the hospital... my aunt Tilina. The pillar, the strong one. She's sick, so terribly sick and she is just so vulnerable now. There is no wonder in the pain such a sight must cause to her protected. All my life I have known her strong and well, all my life she has been there, beautiful and wonderful in her own particular way, doing everything for everyone at once.
She can do nothing for herself now.
She's scared but she's trying, she's being strong. She'll get through, I know too many people who have done so to be afraid of this.
Thirty minutes to go and the panic is comign again. I'll say goodbye to everything and I'll regret it every minute and love it for the fact. I'll run into teh arms of the unknown and I'll fear it. But I'm going to be alright and I'll cry and I'll tell Andy how much I miss her through the msn. And I'll write it now for all of them to read, all my friends, how much I love them, how much i need them. Adrian with whom I can speak and cry and work. Lorena with whom I can laugh and forget. With Andrea with whom I can live and relive everything. I'll miss Alan and Paola and I'll miss you Cesar because it's been so long since we've spoken and it'll be longer still. Because I knwo them and they know me, as best as we can we know. And all the tears and all the happiness will leave me empty, ready to be filled in this new place.
Millie i love you, you know me better than anyone, Joel I can't live without you and your simple goodness, Alex and Furya with whom I can talk as much as I can about all the possible worlds, Rick who is adorable in his blindness, Nina and Noemi and Carla because they are special and hae shared sleepless nights both cheerful and agonizing. My darling child Marina, you ahve suffered and missed and I know it... and I'll miss you all.
Millie I'm coming over to see you...
God this is hard, this is really the last time, I want to say something significant and nothing comes out.
I'm worried and my aunt is sick and everything was so depressingly old and worn in there. Such a piercing differece from where Lorena was staying. I nearly fainted then, now my head pounded horribly and my throat ached for crying but there was no fainting. My aunt is such a large patient and Lore was so diminished, she was small and delicate and soft and tender. My aunt is a woman, how scary, to see it all so charply and know it.
Goodbye. I love you all.
The Bound Woman
What sign of the Black Zodiac are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
It seems that I am walking in a dream. That I didn't really wake up, more tired than the day before. This is the last time I write from my computer for some three or four months. I'm leaving, in two hours time. Finally I'm starting to believe it's happening, finally everything is hurting as it should hurt and I'm crying because I'll miss everyone and everything. I'm going to miss my old life even as I start the new one, because I know that when I'm back I'll be someone else, something more.
Fancy words, just dancing on the tip of my fingers as I write them.
I just wanted this day to end. I don't know how we ever got through with everything, with all the things that happened and all the things we still had to do. I don't know how I woke up to find myself ready to take care of my tenth year grades or my mother's backup. I don't know how I could be ready to go and say goodbye to my aging aunt in the hospital or to say goodbye to my friends as I held them for the last time in three months. I couldn't cry. I wanted to, I was just to exhausted and rushed to bring myself to do it. I had a most horrible nausea and a headache, I was so tired, so hot, so hopeless. It seemed I would be sick at any moment and yet I still managed to have everything done... now I cannot seem to shake off the feeling of discontent, that I'm still missing so much and that I want to be on the plane with nothing but sleeping to do. I want to start, I'm so tired of ending.
I'm leaving my house, I want to see the new one. I'm leaving my city and I want to know the new one. I want to get the feel of, the atmosphere, the particular breath of life it will have. I want to feel the streets under my feet and I want to work and I want to do things and create things and I'm so tired...
I went to see my aunt at the hospital... my aunt Tilina. The pillar, the strong one. She's sick, so terribly sick and she is just so vulnerable now. There is no wonder in the pain such a sight must cause to her protected. All my life I have known her strong and well, all my life she has been there, beautiful and wonderful in her own particular way, doing everything for everyone at once.
She can do nothing for herself now.
She's scared but she's trying, she's being strong. She'll get through, I know too many people who have done so to be afraid of this.
Thirty minutes to go and the panic is comign again. I'll say goodbye to everything and I'll regret it every minute and love it for the fact. I'll run into teh arms of the unknown and I'll fear it. But I'm going to be alright and I'll cry and I'll tell Andy how much I miss her through the msn. And I'll write it now for all of them to read, all my friends, how much I love them, how much i need them. Adrian with whom I can speak and cry and work. Lorena with whom I can laugh and forget. With Andrea with whom I can live and relive everything. I'll miss Alan and Paola and I'll miss you Cesar because it's been so long since we've spoken and it'll be longer still. Because I knwo them and they know me, as best as we can we know. And all the tears and all the happiness will leave me empty, ready to be filled in this new place.
Millie i love you, you know me better than anyone, Joel I can't live without you and your simple goodness, Alex and Furya with whom I can talk as much as I can about all the possible worlds, Rick who is adorable in his blindness, Nina and Noemi and Carla because they are special and hae shared sleepless nights both cheerful and agonizing. My darling child Marina, you ahve suffered and missed and I know it... and I'll miss you all.
Millie I'm coming over to see you...
God this is hard, this is really the last time, I want to say something significant and nothing comes out.
I'm worried and my aunt is sick and everything was so depressingly old and worn in there. Such a piercing differece from where Lorena was staying. I nearly fainted then, now my head pounded horribly and my throat ached for crying but there was no fainting. My aunt is such a large patient and Lore was so diminished, she was small and delicate and soft and tender. My aunt is a woman, how scary, to see it all so charply and know it.
Goodbye. I love you all.
The Bound Woman
What sign of the Black Zodiac are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Thursday, August 28, 2003
The Hunger's Strike
Two more days till the final hour in my country. My mother has sudden wratful attacks against me and my papers and other things. Everything that I haven't packed or neatly ordered in my room and the vicinities. It's normal of course.
I'm completely out of inspiration and I don't know what to write anymore. I feel I must, record something of the fear and the not wholly unpleasant expectancy I'm feelign towards Santa Cruz. I know I won't be able to do many of the things that usually take up my time in those first days. But I want to see it all. I want to get there and see my hosue and my school and my garden. I want to know where I will sit and write on my notebook while I don't have my computer to do it with.
Mother calls from her room, she calls to say something unpleasant, to cut the flow of words and strangle it with spite.
I must write to Millie, I need her phone number.
I fixed most of the things that were bothering me today. Called the school, scanned what I needed to scan, said my goodbyes to dancing friends. I knwo all the documents I need for school which is a relief considering I so desperately want to attend it. I'm missing one probably, but I'll get it tomorrow, maybe even see my friends. I need to fit all my data into two CD-ROMs and then I'm ready.
Or so I think.
There are still so many things I'd like to do, not really anything about organizing, but creative work, sketches I'd liek to finish, banners and other things. Tie knots, or "atar cabos sueltos" as you say in Spanish.
Went to see Andy on Tuesday. I wanted to see everyone, but there wasn't enough time and she wouldn't come over to watch the movie with me. I should've called everyone the day before becuase I really wanted to see them. But I guess I'm just disorganised liek my mother says.
Ah well, I'm rambling and I miss them already, I must go to sleep and try to fix Andy's blog before I go...
Two more days till the final hour in my country. My mother has sudden wratful attacks against me and my papers and other things. Everything that I haven't packed or neatly ordered in my room and the vicinities. It's normal of course.
I'm completely out of inspiration and I don't know what to write anymore. I feel I must, record something of the fear and the not wholly unpleasant expectancy I'm feelign towards Santa Cruz. I know I won't be able to do many of the things that usually take up my time in those first days. But I want to see it all. I want to get there and see my hosue and my school and my garden. I want to know where I will sit and write on my notebook while I don't have my computer to do it with.
Mother calls from her room, she calls to say something unpleasant, to cut the flow of words and strangle it with spite.
I must write to Millie, I need her phone number.
I fixed most of the things that were bothering me today. Called the school, scanned what I needed to scan, said my goodbyes to dancing friends. I knwo all the documents I need for school which is a relief considering I so desperately want to attend it. I'm missing one probably, but I'll get it tomorrow, maybe even see my friends. I need to fit all my data into two CD-ROMs and then I'm ready.
Or so I think.
There are still so many things I'd like to do, not really anything about organizing, but creative work, sketches I'd liek to finish, banners and other things. Tie knots, or "atar cabos sueltos" as you say in Spanish.
Went to see Andy on Tuesday. I wanted to see everyone, but there wasn't enough time and she wouldn't come over to watch the movie with me. I should've called everyone the day before becuase I really wanted to see them. But I guess I'm just disorganised liek my mother says.
Ah well, I'm rambling and I miss them already, I must go to sleep and try to fix Andy's blog before I go...
Wednesday, August 27, 2003
Stolen Pearls
It's been pandemonium these last few days with me having no time, indeed no volition to come near the computer and just sit down to write. This is my last week in Mexico. Things seem to be growing ever more difficult as the final day approaches, my aunt fell sick, my school info si not ready and I get even more scared by the second. I've been doing everything not to think about my departure but all I seem to be doing is fixing those details which will make life bereable for my first months. I need to get my skirt, my CDcase, my drawings scanned and I've been working for everyone lately, maybe as a sort of gift before I leave, or maybe because I cannot bring myself to work on anything that has to do with the trip.
With all the webbuilding and going out that I've been doing there has hardly been a second for me to write, even when I truly wanted to. There'll be even less time once I get there and yet this is something I simply can not let be. I'll stop writing for some days now and gain, weeks even, but always I'll come back to explain my absence to myself and I'll write this for myself and only for myself.
To cry here.
To scream.
To hurt.
It's been pandemonium these last few days with me having no time, indeed no volition to come near the computer and just sit down to write. This is my last week in Mexico. Things seem to be growing ever more difficult as the final day approaches, my aunt fell sick, my school info si not ready and I get even more scared by the second. I've been doing everything not to think about my departure but all I seem to be doing is fixing those details which will make life bereable for my first months. I need to get my skirt, my CDcase, my drawings scanned and I've been working for everyone lately, maybe as a sort of gift before I leave, or maybe because I cannot bring myself to work on anything that has to do with the trip.
With all the webbuilding and going out that I've been doing there has hardly been a second for me to write, even when I truly wanted to. There'll be even less time once I get there and yet this is something I simply can not let be. I'll stop writing for some days now and gain, weeks even, but always I'll come back to explain my absence to myself and I'll write this for myself and only for myself.
To cry here.
To scream.
To hurt.
Thursday, August 21, 2003
Nothing much
Once again the lateness of my awakening leaves me with a strong sens e of distaste. I cannot bare to do so little when I want to do so much.
I better do this fast and go to sleep then since tomorrow I'm going out with friends and I need the morning to scan and get to work on all the art I still owe people.
Once again the lateness of my awakening leaves me with a strong sens e of distaste. I cannot bare to do so little when I want to do so much.
I better do this fast and go to sleep then since tomorrow I'm going out with friends and I need the morning to scan and get to work on all the art I still owe people.
Wednesday, August 20, 2003
Sloth
I'm reading the Merchant of Venice. Apart from that I haven't done much, unless all the editing and html writing for my blog has brought.
Today I've felt too many times the need to cry. I don't like doing it in front of other people, I don't like talking about things that bring tears to my eyes or suddenly think about them. It's foolish, exposing myself when I don't like it, thinking of songs, of anything in particular that just stings me so deeply I can't control it. I wish these things were in my control but they're not.
I woke up at an abominable hour today and my mother is right. It does make me feel depressed. The day was beautifully bleak though, and I went to my therapy. I cried over dad again or nearly did anyway. I have the most curious feeling of wanting him to notice I'm reading Shakespeare. I close my eyes and conjure images of him picking up my book and asking me, commenting about it, telling me those tidbits of interesting data he used to give me when I was a child, when he bought me books. They did that for me, my fahter and my mother, they opened the door for me to find out my passion in life and I'm so damn grateful to them. All the stories he told me, all the plays she took me to, every hint on what she thought art was, every book he ever mentioned... and I don't think he cares much for the harvest now it's beginnign to give fruit.
I should go to sleep because I am tired and I am angry at having done so little considering how much there is to do yet. How many things I have to fix in my room and in my life before I go. I should have ordered my books today, I should've called my school, I should've called my dad and told him I wanted to go with him to lunch and get the photos at last... so I could take them with me.
Me and a gun and a man on my back
and I sang holy holy as he buttoned down his pants
I know I must ask him to care, but I don't want to be an obligation. I don't want to be something he has to do, something more in his agenda, another tension in his life. I'm hsi daughter, he
This song stirs something within me, something hurtful and sordid, something filthy and of agonical value. It makes me think of wide-eyed confessions.
If I don't tell these things, if I don't write about them, abotu everything I want to say or do or just shout... then I'll go insane. I know I will, tears streaming down my face and I feel like I could hate him. I don't what to do, I don't know what to say that won't sound childish and stupid. Selfish. Horrible. I want to know he loves me because I can't stand not knowing. I want to know if he'll miss me because I'll die if he doesn't.
I want someone's arms around me. I want Diego murmuring comfort to me. But it's over and I'm in pain.
I'm reading the Merchant of Venice. Apart from that I haven't done much, unless all the editing and html writing for my blog has brought.
Today I've felt too many times the need to cry. I don't like doing it in front of other people, I don't like talking about things that bring tears to my eyes or suddenly think about them. It's foolish, exposing myself when I don't like it, thinking of songs, of anything in particular that just stings me so deeply I can't control it. I wish these things were in my control but they're not.
I woke up at an abominable hour today and my mother is right. It does make me feel depressed. The day was beautifully bleak though, and I went to my therapy. I cried over dad again or nearly did anyway. I have the most curious feeling of wanting him to notice I'm reading Shakespeare. I close my eyes and conjure images of him picking up my book and asking me, commenting about it, telling me those tidbits of interesting data he used to give me when I was a child, when he bought me books. They did that for me, my fahter and my mother, they opened the door for me to find out my passion in life and I'm so damn grateful to them. All the stories he told me, all the plays she took me to, every hint on what she thought art was, every book he ever mentioned... and I don't think he cares much for the harvest now it's beginnign to give fruit.
I should go to sleep because I am tired and I am angry at having done so little considering how much there is to do yet. How many things I have to fix in my room and in my life before I go. I should have ordered my books today, I should've called my school, I should've called my dad and told him I wanted to go with him to lunch and get the photos at last... so I could take them with me.
Me and a gun and a man on my back
and I sang holy holy as he buttoned down his pants
I know I must ask him to care, but I don't want to be an obligation. I don't want to be something he has to do, something more in his agenda, another tension in his life. I'm hsi daughter, he
This song stirs something within me, something hurtful and sordid, something filthy and of agonical value. It makes me think of wide-eyed confessions.
If I don't tell these things, if I don't write about them, abotu everything I want to say or do or just shout... then I'll go insane. I know I will, tears streaming down my face and I feel like I could hate him. I don't what to do, I don't know what to say that won't sound childish and stupid. Selfish. Horrible. I want to know he loves me because I can't stand not knowing. I want to know if he'll miss me because I'll die if he doesn't.
I want someone's arms around me. I want Diego murmuring comfort to me. But it's over and I'm in pain.
Tuesday, August 19, 2003
Tinkering
Already 8 am and I'm trying to see if I can edit this blog to make it look prettier. If I can I'll do some layouts for my friends.
After the whole morning and a large part of the afternoon I have managed to change the background, but haven't figured out how to upload images... till now. Thanks to Lore I have everything ready I just need to finish editing the main pic and I'll be done. I don't think I want various versions.
Already 8 am and I'm trying to see if I can edit this blog to make it look prettier. If I can I'll do some layouts for my friends.
After the whole morning and a large part of the afternoon I have managed to change the background, but haven't figured out how to upload images... till now. Thanks to Lore I have everything ready I just need to finish editing the main pic and I'll be done. I don't think I want various versions.
Monday, August 18, 2003
Back
Late already and I must soon go to sleep, but not without setting down whatever meaningful events to the day.
Had a row with my mother about my responsabilites and money and something completely trivial which resluted in me not goign to see anybody today and doing my duty at my dancing lessons.
Woke up relatively late and am tired due to classes. Forgot my dancing shoes. Must get up early tomorrow and work on a lot of things.
Aesthetic theme comign out somewhat blur. Soemthing to do with mysteries and my complete lack of work on 'Cloouds over Styx' tomorrow I write or I die trying.
Have to scan, have to work... have to stop fearing I am so afraid and so self-concious. I'm going. I'm really going. To where nobody will know me or like me or love me or speak to me for a time.
I'm dead scared. No computer, few books, mother stressed... writing as a succor I guess.
This is disjointed and rather awful. I better go to sleep.
Almost done with Dorian Gray book, I'll finish it tomorrow as a sort of class practice or something.
Late already and I must soon go to sleep, but not without setting down whatever meaningful events to the day.
Had a row with my mother about my responsabilites and money and something completely trivial which resluted in me not goign to see anybody today and doing my duty at my dancing lessons.
Woke up relatively late and am tired due to classes. Forgot my dancing shoes. Must get up early tomorrow and work on a lot of things.
Aesthetic theme comign out somewhat blur. Soemthing to do with mysteries and my complete lack of work on 'Cloouds over Styx' tomorrow I write or I die trying.
Have to scan, have to work... have to stop fearing I am so afraid and so self-concious. I'm going. I'm really going. To where nobody will know me or like me or love me or speak to me for a time.
I'm dead scared. No computer, few books, mother stressed... writing as a succor I guess.
This is disjointed and rather awful. I better go to sleep.
Almost done with Dorian Gray book, I'll finish it tomorrow as a sort of class practice or something.
Sunday, August 17, 2003
In memory
Of the many things I can recall from my childhood there are three manias: dinosaurs, marine biolgoy and pirates. Thankfully mmy chosen profession is one that can encompass all three. As a writer I may venture wherever I please and that makes me happy.
I've just come back from watching 'Pirates of the Caribean'. Remembering everything I loved about this particular field remembering how much fun I had as a pirate's daughter when I was eight, how many times I saw a musical or a movie about the Treasure Island, how many hours I could spend just waiting to be let in at the Disney spectacle.
It made my day, and it made my week.
It made me forget yesterday's bitterness and now I decided I'm going out with friends tomorrow. Life is good when my father is not involved.
Of the many things I can recall from my childhood there are three manias: dinosaurs, marine biolgoy and pirates. Thankfully mmy chosen profession is one that can encompass all three. As a writer I may venture wherever I please and that makes me happy.
I've just come back from watching 'Pirates of the Caribean'. Remembering everything I loved about this particular field remembering how much fun I had as a pirate's daughter when I was eight, how many times I saw a musical or a movie about the Treasure Island, how many hours I could spend just waiting to be let in at the Disney spectacle.
It made my day, and it made my week.
It made me forget yesterday's bitterness and now I decided I'm going out with friends tomorrow. Life is good when my father is not involved.
Saturday, August 16, 2003
Out for the day
"Maid in Manhattan" has just ended and I'm a little bit less angry, a little more willing to write thatn some hours ago.
Went out with my father today and I must say the whole day has been a disaster, except for this last movie my mom rented for us. My father can't give me three hours straight just for me alone, I don't know if it was better to accept Saturdays as the day I see him. True, now I spend more time with my cousins, but dad will rather talk with any of my uncles and aunts instead of just looking at me. He never does anything for me exclusively unless I ask him. I really wish that he would one day just surprise me. A real wonderful surprise that shows me he listens. He goes to Russia he brings me tourist t-shirts, he goes to Argentina he does likewise, hell he goes anywhere and he can never think what to bring me. Frankly I don't think he even tries to find things for me. He just dumps whatever in his bag and finds stuff for everyone else.
And of course he could never know. I don't speak to him anymore. I just can't bring myself to talk to someone who doesn't want to hear me. I start speaking and stop midsentence and he doesn't notice. I cry in his car and he doesn't notice either. He laughs and waves my every problem with pseudotheories of pseudosciences.
I even woke up late, around eleven and half in the morning and I was wishing to get up at nine. I went abnormally early to sleep last night, I was tired because Ake, Javier and myself had gone out all day on Friday.
That was enjoyable, that and Wednesday made my week worth everything.
I think my talking to Javier made Adrian uncomfortable, maybe I was flirting and I didn't realise. I shudder to think I could do what was done to me. It troubles my mind of late, Adrian always has that effect. I can't helo him and I can't discenr what is wrong with him. I know he is angry, I know he is sad, I just don't know what to do about it except tell him that I'm there, even countries away I am there for him to speak with, for him to cry with. I'm just... there...
"Maid in Manhattan" has just ended and I'm a little bit less angry, a little more willing to write thatn some hours ago.
Went out with my father today and I must say the whole day has been a disaster, except for this last movie my mom rented for us. My father can't give me three hours straight just for me alone, I don't know if it was better to accept Saturdays as the day I see him. True, now I spend more time with my cousins, but dad will rather talk with any of my uncles and aunts instead of just looking at me. He never does anything for me exclusively unless I ask him. I really wish that he would one day just surprise me. A real wonderful surprise that shows me he listens. He goes to Russia he brings me tourist t-shirts, he goes to Argentina he does likewise, hell he goes anywhere and he can never think what to bring me. Frankly I don't think he even tries to find things for me. He just dumps whatever in his bag and finds stuff for everyone else.
And of course he could never know. I don't speak to him anymore. I just can't bring myself to talk to someone who doesn't want to hear me. I start speaking and stop midsentence and he doesn't notice. I cry in his car and he doesn't notice either. He laughs and waves my every problem with pseudotheories of pseudosciences.
I even woke up late, around eleven and half in the morning and I was wishing to get up at nine. I went abnormally early to sleep last night, I was tired because Ake, Javier and myself had gone out all day on Friday.
That was enjoyable, that and Wednesday made my week worth everything.
I think my talking to Javier made Adrian uncomfortable, maybe I was flirting and I didn't realise. I shudder to think I could do what was done to me. It troubles my mind of late, Adrian always has that effect. I can't helo him and I can't discenr what is wrong with him. I know he is angry, I know he is sad, I just don't know what to do about it except tell him that I'm there, even countries away I am there for him to speak with, for him to cry with. I'm just... there...
Thursday, August 14, 2003
Days the sky cries
Was unwittingly awoke at some time near 8:30 am by my mother and her guest, Enrique. They had a congress today and had to be up and refreshed by 10 maximum. No way to go back to sleep with the noise they were making and frankly it did me good just to eat breakfast and get a bath and start my day in the actual morning instead of noon. I'll be better equipped when dealing with the school timing.
Well ramblings aside, I did manage to produce a decent pic of dearest Celia at last. I also inked one of the sketches I have. I'll do two rough CG colored sketches of both Celia and Claw and two natural media proper drawings of each too. I think I'll try my hand with Rodion in water colours and inks (same goes for Claw). Don't have the slightest idea of when I'll get started with Clouds over Styx again (since I actually deleted all I had, which wasn't much) or with the packing. Choosing what things I'll take with me besides clothes is going to be hard. I think I'll take my drawing equioment, my 'lost soul' diary and both Clanbook: Baali and Revelations of the Dark Mother. Two books I cannot part with. I'll try to smuggle in either Dorian Gray or one of my Lovecraft collections.
I'm tired and I'm still ranting.
Went to the psychiatrist today and I do love that street when it's raining even if it lands me with a pneumonia.
Reeived mail from Millie.
Most add the most imperishable info inside a CD-ROM and take it with me, along with the Office and PS softwares.
God this is becoming real... oh dear lord I can't stand it.
Had the most strange dream Tuesday night, suppose it had something to do with the accident or actually going to sleep early (maybe that's why I haven't had picturesque dreams of late). It was set in a pseudo-castle-manor I am sure I placed in Northern Iberia. There was this old bloated tree, one of those monstrocities who have centuries upon them, and everything was green and the sort of place I love. The tree was nearly black (my psychiatrist says it must be him benerably watching over me, but those sort of trees are not fatherly, they eat the living hiding their remains inside their swollen roots). The castle belonged to a girl called Paola I had known years ago and not even befriended. She had invited us over for vacation and I remember most of my young cousins (both sides) were there. They were all talking about going to a darkkiosk atop a mount that seemed to entretain youngsters in the evenings. It was visible from the castle's grounds and there were lighted paper lamps. Paola escorted me through the rooms telling me that I would be in charge of the keys ('The Other' came to mind). I can vividly remember three things, the dining room of nineteenth century decay and dancness and two inner courtyards both dark and mosso covered. In one of thems workers were busy digging a very square sort of hole, the better for some large structureto sit upon.
It was a very strange and wonderful dream. It was also wonderfully absurd.
Should be going to sleep now. No one seems to appear and I'm rather tired and want to get up tomorrow and do some sketching.
Maybe I'll answer some mails before.
Bought "El manual del guerrero de la luz" at last. I cannot seem to bring myself to read it.
Was unwittingly awoke at some time near 8:30 am by my mother and her guest, Enrique. They had a congress today and had to be up and refreshed by 10 maximum. No way to go back to sleep with the noise they were making and frankly it did me good just to eat breakfast and get a bath and start my day in the actual morning instead of noon. I'll be better equipped when dealing with the school timing.
Well ramblings aside, I did manage to produce a decent pic of dearest Celia at last. I also inked one of the sketches I have. I'll do two rough CG colored sketches of both Celia and Claw and two natural media proper drawings of each too. I think I'll try my hand with Rodion in water colours and inks (same goes for Claw). Don't have the slightest idea of when I'll get started with Clouds over Styx again (since I actually deleted all I had, which wasn't much) or with the packing. Choosing what things I'll take with me besides clothes is going to be hard. I think I'll take my drawing equioment, my 'lost soul' diary and both Clanbook: Baali and Revelations of the Dark Mother. Two books I cannot part with. I'll try to smuggle in either Dorian Gray or one of my Lovecraft collections.
I'm tired and I'm still ranting.
Went to the psychiatrist today and I do love that street when it's raining even if it lands me with a pneumonia.
Reeived mail from Millie.
Most add the most imperishable info inside a CD-ROM and take it with me, along with the Office and PS softwares.
God this is becoming real... oh dear lord I can't stand it.
Had the most strange dream Tuesday night, suppose it had something to do with the accident or actually going to sleep early (maybe that's why I haven't had picturesque dreams of late). It was set in a pseudo-castle-manor I am sure I placed in Northern Iberia. There was this old bloated tree, one of those monstrocities who have centuries upon them, and everything was green and the sort of place I love. The tree was nearly black (my psychiatrist says it must be him benerably watching over me, but those sort of trees are not fatherly, they eat the living hiding their remains inside their swollen roots). The castle belonged to a girl called Paola I had known years ago and not even befriended. She had invited us over for vacation and I remember most of my young cousins (both sides) were there. They were all talking about going to a darkkiosk atop a mount that seemed to entretain youngsters in the evenings. It was visible from the castle's grounds and there were lighted paper lamps. Paola escorted me through the rooms telling me that I would be in charge of the keys ('The Other' came to mind). I can vividly remember three things, the dining room of nineteenth century decay and dancness and two inner courtyards both dark and mosso covered. In one of thems workers were busy digging a very square sort of hole, the better for some large structureto sit upon.
It was a very strange and wonderful dream. It was also wonderfully absurd.
Should be going to sleep now. No one seems to appear and I'm rather tired and want to get up tomorrow and do some sketching.
Maybe I'll answer some mails before.
Bought "El manual del guerrero de la luz" at last. I cannot seem to bring myself to read it.
Wednesday, August 13, 2003
Loved
Today I felt the very first fibers of misery. The ones that loneliness was going to give me, because I was with my friends, and I realized how much I'll miss them, how close is the time when I must say good-bye for almost a year. It hurts, not too deeply at the moment, but I'll know it will be agony when the reality truly strikes me.
My father was quite good to me today. I think he'll miss me too. I also think he is feeling terribly guilty because he took the suggestion of a trip to Queretaro quite well. He must be, we haven't been together much, even thought this was suppose to change. He is still always tired when we go out together and it's sickening. He sees me three hours a week and he's tired. What would he be were I to live with him?
We ate together and chatted away and he bought me jeans and took me to Lorena's house.
Everyone was there. Alan, Adrian, Lore, Andy(along with bf), Sebas and his brother. They were there to say goodbye... and the fact is I don't want to do it yet. Even if they will enter school next week. Even if I'm leaving the week after. I don't want to make this real.
I haven't been able to sketch a proper Celia yet and I'm feeling miserable over "Clouds over Styx". I need to go to sleep and get working tomorrow morning.
Today I felt the very first fibers of misery. The ones that loneliness was going to give me, because I was with my friends, and I realized how much I'll miss them, how close is the time when I must say good-bye for almost a year. It hurts, not too deeply at the moment, but I'll know it will be agony when the reality truly strikes me.
My father was quite good to me today. I think he'll miss me too. I also think he is feeling terribly guilty because he took the suggestion of a trip to Queretaro quite well. He must be, we haven't been together much, even thought this was suppose to change. He is still always tired when we go out together and it's sickening. He sees me three hours a week and he's tired. What would he be were I to live with him?
We ate together and chatted away and he bought me jeans and took me to Lorena's house.
Everyone was there. Alan, Adrian, Lore, Andy(along with bf), Sebas and his brother. They were there to say goodbye... and the fact is I don't want to do it yet. Even if they will enter school next week. Even if I'm leaving the week after. I don't want to make this real.
I haven't been able to sketch a proper Celia yet and I'm feeling miserable over "Clouds over Styx". I need to go to sleep and get working tomorrow morning.
Tuesday, August 12, 2003
The Worst
Ages since I've taken the time to visit my blog. The fact is I've been either busy or tired or too damn idle to bother. Mother went to Buenos Aires and stayed there five days in which I took the liberty of inviting Andy over to sleep. I missed that, I hadn't slept over with anyone for too damn long and this had a perfect timing. It made me feel better, it made me deal with what I had done, what I had been suffering in a more amenable way.
I like the attenttion and I like the concern, I have to admit it.
But I haven't been too loving lately...
It's strange the way I tend to be a right down slut when I'm happy. Especially with my mother. She's the one that talkes the blunt of my temper, adn she let me know in no uncertain terms today.
Got the visa. We're really going. My mind is blank.
Soem idiot crashed on us so horribly that we might've died. If it hadn't been for the sit belts we really would've. I was so scared I wanted to start crying. Needless to say today was a miserable day.
I think I'll call my father tomorrow, very early in the morning just to see if he would take me to lunch before I go to Lorena's house. I'm not going to see him in for months... and he doesn't seem to mind...
Ages since I've taken the time to visit my blog. The fact is I've been either busy or tired or too damn idle to bother. Mother went to Buenos Aires and stayed there five days in which I took the liberty of inviting Andy over to sleep. I missed that, I hadn't slept over with anyone for too damn long and this had a perfect timing. It made me feel better, it made me deal with what I had done, what I had been suffering in a more amenable way.
I like the attenttion and I like the concern, I have to admit it.
But I haven't been too loving lately...
It's strange the way I tend to be a right down slut when I'm happy. Especially with my mother. She's the one that talkes the blunt of my temper, adn she let me know in no uncertain terms today.
Got the visa. We're really going. My mind is blank.
Soem idiot crashed on us so horribly that we might've died. If it hadn't been for the sit belts we really would've. I was so scared I wanted to start crying. Needless to say today was a miserable day.
I think I'll call my father tomorrow, very early in the morning just to see if he would take me to lunch before I go to Lorena's house. I'm not going to see him in for months... and he doesn't seem to mind...
Tuesday, August 05, 2003
Calm
No need to write here for the past days. Perhaps because I finally managed to sit and talk about what was tormenting me. As always it was Millie who made the miracle of rebirth possible for me. Across countires we have found each other and she is the one person who can understand what I go through. she has been there when all the rest have been absent, and she gave me the courage I needed to leave the RPGs. She was right I think, somehow I was strangling myself with them and it was a time to put an end to it. I won't hold myself back like that.
We spoke on Sunday after I had a nervous breakdown Saturday night. I started crying for no reason and scared my mom and scared myself. I was unable to stop it. But my mom has been very understanding of all this, she's leaving today for Buenos Aires. She told me I must try and speak about this with my therapist. All the talking has helped me. He said I was very sensitive, but that there was a very strong part of me that was my stoicism, my dislike of appearing weak before others. Somehow that made me proud and a little sad.
Started with dancing classes again and they have helped.
Tomorrow Andrea is coming over and I'm joyous about it. I have to call the Santa Cruz Highschool and then finish my EoW chapter.
No need to write here for the past days. Perhaps because I finally managed to sit and talk about what was tormenting me. As always it was Millie who made the miracle of rebirth possible for me. Across countires we have found each other and she is the one person who can understand what I go through. she has been there when all the rest have been absent, and she gave me the courage I needed to leave the RPGs. She was right I think, somehow I was strangling myself with them and it was a time to put an end to it. I won't hold myself back like that.
We spoke on Sunday after I had a nervous breakdown Saturday night. I started crying for no reason and scared my mom and scared myself. I was unable to stop it. But my mom has been very understanding of all this, she's leaving today for Buenos Aires. She told me I must try and speak about this with my therapist. All the talking has helped me. He said I was very sensitive, but that there was a very strong part of me that was my stoicism, my dislike of appearing weak before others. Somehow that made me proud and a little sad.
Started with dancing classes again and they have helped.
Tomorrow Andrea is coming over and I'm joyous about it. I have to call the Santa Cruz Highschool and then finish my EoW chapter.
Saturday, August 02, 2003
The Shinning
It's there every night, mark it reader, every blessed night and I can't stop it. Whether the day ahs been fun or indifferent or horrible something comes and tries to eat me alive at night. I wish I could lay on the floor and cry all I haven't been able to cry. I don't dare lest I awake my mother.
I was going to add something else but I have forgotten...
Little by little the rain falls and it's inside me for once. I lay in my bed and I cry a little and then I speak with someone through the msn and cry some more. Never the whole thing at once. I feel trapped inside a claustrophobic despair that won't let me feel the scope of all I can feel. If I could just let it all go, break the dam and let the weeping flow free, maybe I'd feel better afterwards. Maybe not.
It's there every night, mark it reader, every blessed night and I can't stop it. Whether the day ahs been fun or indifferent or horrible something comes and tries to eat me alive at night. I wish I could lay on the floor and cry all I haven't been able to cry. I don't dare lest I awake my mother.
I was going to add something else but I have forgotten...
Little by little the rain falls and it's inside me for once. I lay in my bed and I cry a little and then I speak with someone through the msn and cry some more. Never the whole thing at once. I feel trapped inside a claustrophobic despair that won't let me feel the scope of all I can feel. If I could just let it all go, break the dam and let the weeping flow free, maybe I'd feel better afterwards. Maybe not.
Father
I think I must start typing the next chapter now, but I'm lonely and there's no one at the msn. I don't want to call Adrian or Lorena since they really don't want me to. I feel lonely and bored. It's been ages since I have gone out and I am so disappointed that my father couldn't take the time off this day to do anything special for me.
I haven't seen him in two weeks, I'm going to Santa Cruz in a month! We won't see each other for months after that and he can't even try to make our few hours a week amenable. He just doesn't give a damn, he doesn't realize that I might hate him for this, or what it will mean if I do. He takes me for granted and I am his only daughter.
I wish I could scream, I just wish I could shout all I feel instead of reducing myself to crying in secret at night or in the kitchen when no one is around. I wish someone would just sincerely offer me to listen, just to hold me whilst I pour out my heart. I don't want a solution, all I want is to say it, to hear it out loud so I can stop pretending I don't feel it.
But there's no one, and I'm still in pain. If I didn't have this place, if I couldn't even write about it even though no one reads it... then I would simply die. All my sense of failure, all my tragedies are for no one except the blank screen of this place.
I think I must start typing the next chapter now, but I'm lonely and there's no one at the msn. I don't want to call Adrian or Lorena since they really don't want me to. I feel lonely and bored. It's been ages since I have gone out and I am so disappointed that my father couldn't take the time off this day to do anything special for me.
I haven't seen him in two weeks, I'm going to Santa Cruz in a month! We won't see each other for months after that and he can't even try to make our few hours a week amenable. He just doesn't give a damn, he doesn't realize that I might hate him for this, or what it will mean if I do. He takes me for granted and I am his only daughter.
I wish I could scream, I just wish I could shout all I feel instead of reducing myself to crying in secret at night or in the kitchen when no one is around. I wish someone would just sincerely offer me to listen, just to hold me whilst I pour out my heart. I don't want a solution, all I want is to say it, to hear it out loud so I can stop pretending I don't feel it.
But there's no one, and I'm still in pain. If I didn't have this place, if I couldn't even write about it even though no one reads it... then I would simply die. All my sense of failure, all my tragedies are for no one except the blank screen of this place.
Friday, August 01, 2003
Lie
I am vulnerable and I am in pain. I don't know when all this frustration I've been bottling up will ignite and leave me barren and broken. I cry everyday now, and I don't tell anyone because it makes me feel worse. People don't want to hear it, people simply don't care. I've been working so much that the screen has become an unreal nightmare of delusions I cannot recall. My artist's hands are not my own anymore. My state of mind does as it pleases and all I can really conceive as a source of pleasure is hurting others with my pain.
I want to scream at my friends, I want to tell them I want to be heard and appriciated, I must suddenly know if I provoke anything in them, any reaction besides mere friendship. All my work, all I've done is for nothing, no matter how much energy I expend I feel horrible and dissatisfied and I can't stand it anymore. I feel as if I could just tear my skin apart out of pure desperation. I know I won't do it, I know I'll keep smiling and feigning happiness as long as I can, but the ache for communicating grows ever sharper inside me and I don't know just how long I'll be able to take it. And I can't just force it upon them because then it's not real, I am nothing to them because they can not do this on their own accord. What I write is rubbish because it moves no one and it does nothing.
I keep working and commenting and saying nice things because I don't want others to suffer what I suffer; or perhaps it's just the fact that I want to appear as a martyr in my own eyes.
I am sickening, truly sickening.
Didn't go out all day because my friends were hanging out with my ex-boyfriend whom I don't want to see lest I spill all my bitterness upon his poor wretched soul.
I answered most of my mail and posted at StS Relived. I am in the process of reading the EoW chapter and starting my own.
Yes, keep working, or you'll drown.
Ye Gods.
I am vulnerable and I am in pain. I don't know when all this frustration I've been bottling up will ignite and leave me barren and broken. I cry everyday now, and I don't tell anyone because it makes me feel worse. People don't want to hear it, people simply don't care. I've been working so much that the screen has become an unreal nightmare of delusions I cannot recall. My artist's hands are not my own anymore. My state of mind does as it pleases and all I can really conceive as a source of pleasure is hurting others with my pain.
I want to scream at my friends, I want to tell them I want to be heard and appriciated, I must suddenly know if I provoke anything in them, any reaction besides mere friendship. All my work, all I've done is for nothing, no matter how much energy I expend I feel horrible and dissatisfied and I can't stand it anymore. I feel as if I could just tear my skin apart out of pure desperation. I know I won't do it, I know I'll keep smiling and feigning happiness as long as I can, but the ache for communicating grows ever sharper inside me and I don't know just how long I'll be able to take it. And I can't just force it upon them because then it's not real, I am nothing to them because they can not do this on their own accord. What I write is rubbish because it moves no one and it does nothing.
I keep working and commenting and saying nice things because I don't want others to suffer what I suffer; or perhaps it's just the fact that I want to appear as a martyr in my own eyes.
I am sickening, truly sickening.
Didn't go out all day because my friends were hanging out with my ex-boyfriend whom I don't want to see lest I spill all my bitterness upon his poor wretched soul.
I answered most of my mail and posted at StS Relived. I am in the process of reading the EoW chapter and starting my own.
Yes, keep working, or you'll drown.
Ye Gods.
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