My birthday

Let’s see what I wrote last year…ok…

Well, here it comes again:

Now that I am 26 and that today was just another nail in the coffin, let’s write out a few guidelines for the coming year. But first, let’s us see what good resolutions I kept:

-I completed my dental reconstruction.

-Yes, I do shave my legs more often (no more lazy hairy yeti), and I even take care of my hair (straighteners, curlers, shower cap).

-I’ve not produced a lot of fiction, but a good deal of academic writing, as well as a good first-try painting.

-I do get along with my colleagues and pupils this year and am looking forward to pursue my career.

-I am doing that translation/interpreting course.

Other things that happened to me:

-I’ve explored Scotland a little bit more.

-I’ve booked a trip to Norway.

-I’ve improved my Spanish.

-I’ve made new friends and kept old ones.

-I’ve got a clear picture of what I want to achieve artistically, academically and professionally and how to reach it.

-I’ve discovered a lot artistically, in the realm of cinema and music. Not as much as I wanted, but, the hell with it…

The black stains that cannot be washed off:

-I’m still very much anorexic and my weight has plummeted lately. I’ve taken to something like five coffees a day and often do 48 -hours days.

-I’m not happy where I am and it makes me mad with frustration + I’m fretting out about the incertainty of my future job/country/salary/language.

-I will not be happy until I achieve what I want to achieve and get proper recognition for it (which I will resent, of course, but I’ll still be better).

My guidelines for next year:

-Try to cope with the frustration by creating, without starving myself, though it seems impossible to do that alone.

-Go on learning and producing, it can only better my prospects for the future.

-Keep in touch with people I like AND who are good to me.

-Try to enjoy life without thinking I was born to do a special thing in Norway, or meet a special person, because it’s not coming and my not knowing what it is just make me feel frustrated (yet, the feeling is there).

Let’s see how it goes and hope I’ll be there next year.

 

Killing time

In my mind there's a lighthouse
That shall forever turn a blind eye
On the uncertain waters of my life to be

In my mind, an overgrown path
Hides away its quiet undergrowth
For fear of being trodden in errance

In my mind, a freezing/piercing breeze
Immobilising in its ice-coldness
Will no longer whisper the secrets of the words

One day in confident sunshine
Death came reaping
Moving forward the cycle of souls
Ripping apart my sense of purpose
Freeing me from my chains, for
Death came reaping
What gave me life - I thought

And I shall never look up to anyone again.

Dedicated to my literature professor, Andre Viola, who died a year ago.

A little piece of humankind

Last Wednesday, during the Einsturzende Neubauten concert, came to me a revelation about children and the motherhood which I may, or may not, experience.
I realised I was yearning to have, not a baby, but someone already formed, already experienced-marked, and our relationship would grow on that - maybe - crumbly ground, but which would suit me perfectly.
Why then bring something to the world, if I only place importance in what has been before me, away from me without knowing me, away from my influence?
So I am and so I shall remain. I own the so un-western opinion that only adults count, those who are already formed, and not of the vulgus pecus, no, sir; la crème, only.
Why did these ideas come during the concert, I have no idea.
It was a great moment of representation, spectators watching artists representing, and accepting their roles perfectly.
Where does the ability lie to communicate words written in several languages and interspersed with screams? What is the difference between music and noise? Maybe a little bit of humanity, and that is what made me think about the creation of a small piece of humankind that awaits the moulding of my hands to grow to its full potential…
Of course, you have seen the lie, the irony. I have still not had the opportunity to influence someone, and I do not believe that I am able to create something fully malleable. I believe that everyone is born with a very special sense of individuality that is almost to amend for fear of uneasiness, to restrain for fear of suicide.
I do not think I’m powerful enough to take on the responsibility for creating someone so different from me that I could love them, or so identical that it could not move forward.
In fact, my interest lies the notion that someone has been able to live so many years without knowing me and the fact that I would become part of their psyche as much as they are part of mine is simply stunning. This makes me think of fate, bringing me slowly towards something which I call “home”.
And then I die.
I was toying with that thought yesterday afternoon, my eyes fixed on the cobblestones of Gordon Street, my head pounding with a migraine so strong even a glass of Kro couldn’t beat it.

I thought about my depressions, the movements of life, sometimes positive, sometimes negative, and every time I thought I could say, "Okay, I will stop here, this is the last time that personality opens its eyes. " And I continued to survive, of course, and I have opened my eyes on a lot of beautiful things.
Yesterday I thought about the moment of my death, and that I will see it come, in the end, that I will be “bien vieille à la chandelle“, and that I will recognise this moment as the last one and that the end is imminent.
On that particular moment, will I remember everything that has happened to me? Will I carry the weight of my life after me? Life is long (relatively). Even if once the obstacles are overcome and the difficulties long gone by, every little memory counts, for it has been a moment of life, a movement towards the end.
The truth is that I should stop lying. I year for peace. But that stability once achieved, I know that I will not recognise it as the ultimate goal, as my own good even if not the highest I can reach, and I will want variety, everything and its opposite, once more.

Across the Looking Glass

This evening, I have taken in the full berth of my narcissistic personality.

Why do I feel such a strong need to love and be loved?

Why can’t I find my acts validated if I don’t come across, at one point, the glance of another being?

This is one of my themes in La Tombe; I’m trying to make Douce-Amère escape from this attitude. Glances and stares – re-writing of fantasies that come to overlap reality.

I shall manage to cross the looking-class.

From now on...

Now that I am 25 and that yesterday turned out to be my best birthday ever, let's write out a few guidelines for the rest of my life (or at least until I turn 26).

-On the topic of health and personal care:

-I will shave more often (doh!)

-I will always try to have matching underwear AND matching fingers and toenails polish

-I will complete my dental reconstruction

-I will try to put on weight and eat for pleasure. Hopefully I'll get my big boobs back (watch out for competition, Leigh-Anne!)

-On the topic of career and literary production:

-I will write as soon as I get inspiration, and do not allow myself to lose wonderful ideas because I'm too lazy to pick up a pen

-I will complete a diploma in translation through evening classes (NB ask for a loan at the Co-Op...again)

-I will try to get along with my colleagues and pupils even if most of the time I only want to Xerox their head

-On the topic of relationships:

-I will be me, dress as I want, open my big mouth when it has to be open and make new friends (oh...and take them as they come)

-On the topic of MEN:

-Stop going out with girls: they like something that makes me happy...difference

-When the rest of the resolutions are well on their way (by September, probably), FIND A NICE BOYFRIEND:

-As usual, let fate guide me. One day, he'll just happen to be here in front of me...

-...but PLEASE let him:

-have an office job (steady money + suit)

-have a tiring office job (want a massage with your bubble bath, honey?)

-have no workplace canteen (you must be starving. More cheese cream on your tagliatelles, love?)

-love flirting, tickling, cuddling, leashes and blow jobs

-accept me for the artyholic that I am and have a time-consuming passion himself

-accept my difficult past and enjoy my open-mindedness towards the future

-have love handles (nobody's perfect)

Rendez-vous in one year! See what happens.