Substituting Time

Someone recently told me
that time is like rubber,
and can be streched to any lenghts.
One can always find time.

Apart from that grim moment,
which we all seem to fear:
Death.
There is no cheating time there.

This may sound extremely cliché,
(I promise I will attempt to avoid such
melodramatic topics in the future),
but it is not my Death I fear.

There is a certain lonliness
in the Death of loved ones or even acquaintances,
which is not related to a clear fear of the dark.
It is just...Sad.

Such a simple word, sad,
with so many incredible emotions attached.
Such a simple word, love,
with so many positive emotions attached.

There is a reason for why I am afraid of Death:
The loss of loved ones.
But there is also a reason why I fear Love:
The loss of loved ones.

I cannot imagine life,
after a Love is lost.
The world would seem a "mighty stranger,"
as Emily Brontë once wrote in the cries of Cathy.

The fact is, that Love is not so sweet.
It resembles Fear.
It hides it's true colours behind
that infinitely beautiful crimson.

The destruction that is involved in Love!
Such a short, insignificant sounding word.
It finally rushes up to you,
and destroys everything you believe in.

It has the capacity of taking away Life.
It can simply devestate routine.
Become a hole with no visible bottom.
All little syndromes related to both Death and Love.

Is it but a coincidence that such strong words,
such significant events in our lives,
carry the same blatant loss and pain?
Are they truly so innocent in their similar patterns?

Maybe we should measure our lives in Love.
Replace Time, that messy little fact of "life",
with Love, which may guide us directly to
Death.

Let us thrive in the typically unsatisfying Love,
and have it all snached away,
by Love's great partner in crime,
the rapturous accomplice, Death.

Rust away with me in the night..

(Thank you Priit L. for the photograph.)

I recieved a comment from a complete stranger
regarding my previous post.
One of his final sentences grabbed my attention:
"...or just take things as they come?" (- Nabil)

Good point that one.
The notion of planning very little.
Allowing Life to take its natural course.
Trying to survive along it.

The truth is
that we have very little influence over life.
One moment we may be planning the most incredible event,
just to be hit by a speeding bus the next.

There is a certain beauty to that however.
It allows us to be Free.
It allows us to remember
that not everything is ours to choose.
Thus, not everything is our fault.
In fact, very little often is.

Circumstances are extraordinary sometimes.
Regardless of our Willpower,
our astounding Obstinacy,
and even our Emotions towards life,
we die,
we suffer.

The beauty here is simple though.
The chances of suffering are just as plausible
as the chances of falling in Love
or maybe, for the luckier ones,
finding Home.

Myself,
I believe in just living.
Planning works to some extent,
but at the end, there are far too many uncontrollable factors.
That is the freedom we are offered.
Now it is up to us to accept.
I just hope that we don't Rust away in all our pain,
and learn to focus on all the Pleasures.

Minibars

Fear.

Tiring.
Difficult.
Paralyzing.

There is something rather amusing about it though.
The thought of people stuck in the same boat.
Her name is "Fearful Jane",
(Silly name, but who expects a Boat of Fear to have a logical title?)

All the passengers with the same basic fears.
Scared of rejection.
A lack of trust.
Petrified of committment.
Worried of expectations.

The irony is simple however.
We create our own fears.
Feed them.
Then remain estranged to the only thing
that may truly make us happy.

We worry about the risks.
Stay lonely.
Afraid.
Bored.
And damn determined,
not to let anyone tear down our walls.

These tired red walls we build.
Over the long years.
Each brick a reminder of some loss.
Some deception.
Some dormant fear.

(I wish we could at least have sexual relationships with these walls,

but most of us aren't quite attracted to objects...

That woman who had a relationship with the Berlin Wall seems pretty lucky right now.)

It reminds me of the sad fate of rabbits.
Rabbits are easily frightened.
Illogical in their panick.
If a rabbit is crossing a street,
and a car is coming towards it,
more often than not,
the rabbit will start running in front of the car.
This forces the car to follow it,
Increasing the risk of a rather disgusting death.

That's human nature in a nutshell.
Rather than being logical,
risking a little bit,
and possibly experiencing something decent for a change,
we make it a point to be run over and crushed brutally
by our very own, personalized, yet surprisingly unoriginal
fears.

So the question is simple,
shall we all continue this way?
Or risk a little bit?
Personally,
regardless of my pained and determined decision,
I feel myself weakening.
I find myself considering working upwards,
rather than remaining in this Playgroud of Fears.

For those of you planning to remain in this Boat of Fear,
there's something you should ask now, before it's too late:
Does "Fearful Jane" at least have a minibar?

For Me

"Hej little dreamer..."

How are you today?
How was your night?
How was your day?

Did you meet with the Fairies?
Did you dance with the Wolves?
Will you sing with me tonight?

Can you smile at the Mermaids?
Can you play with the Dishonest?
Or shall we kindle the fires tonight?

How about a Dinner?
Or just a little bit of Fun?
Maybe some Companionship?

Let's watch the stars burning.
Or avoid the meteors falling.
Maybe just lie with the Kings.

Can you hear my voice trembling?
Or see my eyes whispering?
Please notice the rain falling...

See me.
Devour me.
Care about me.

How about our Future?
How is their Life?
Are we not smiling?

Shall we take those steps?
Or wait a few moments?
Just let our Lives slip by.

The Waters are waiting.
The Lions are calling.
Do I leave Us now?

Maybe a reunion.
Just a moment of Weakness.
(Or a lifetime of Misery.)

Let's Sing for the Fires.
Find Love with the Kings.
Just Sense the Drops falling.

Smile for me please.

"Love comes and goes, but you, I want to follow till the end of my days..."
(Thank you Lisa K.)



Tonights random thoughts hold only the value of a simple hope for a better future.
Maybe once I am ready for an easier life.
One day, far, far away.

Unhappy Pieces of Paper

My current job is at a Kindergarten.
I am a substitute teacher;
taking the place of a rather incompetant man.
Working under the supervision of a Dictator.

I realized on Friday,
that this is not the job for me.
I am much better in the cold world of Business.
Economics.
Finance.
Managing the incompetant.
Paying the Brilliant.
Or firing the Uninteresting.

Numbers
and Figures.
Words
and Speeches.
Arguments
and Discussions.
All related to Money.

The beauty of Money is incomprehendable!
It makes life so much easier.
Omits all unnecessary emotions.

Working with Children is different.
They don't have any understanding of money.
Sure, it's great when they get a new toy,
but what about those Hugs?
Kisses?
That infinite Trust?!

How is it possible,
that one work with children,
and ignore the fact that life is not beautiful?
It's not a dream that one sails through smiling.
It isn't even mildly sweetnatured.

Bad things happen.
People die.
Children die.
Others are hurt,
decieved.

How can I work with children,
if I keep thinking about the horrors they may one say suffer?
The moments they will want to cry.
Other's when death may truly be the only other logical alternative?

I like that which will one day be my profession.
I like rewarding with money.
I like punishing with a lack of it.

"This planet has — or rather had — a problem, which was this: most of the people on it were unhappy for pretty much of the time. Many solutions were suggested for this problem, but most of these were largely concerned with the movements of small green pieces of paper, which is odd because on the whole it wasn't the small green pieces of paper that were unhappy."
(Quote from "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy"
by Douglas Adams, Chapter 1)

Impossible

Expectations.

The world wouldn't be complete without them.
However, I have a peculiar relationship with them.

It often seems,
that when someone has expectations of me,
I insist on failing them.

It's something about expectations.
Maybe it's just me,
but they are truly unfair.
That Pressure.

The Dissapointment people feel,
When some small expecation is not met.
Why expect something,
if another's failure depresses?

I feel that I may have rushed into things.
So to speak.
But it's been fun.
Easy.
No Drama.
No Questions.
I don't have to Share myself.
Plus I'm learning new things...

If I just drop those preconceived notions.
Ignore my impairing thoughts.

But...
Well...
Honestly,
I don't want to end up hurt.
I don't want to start caring.
And I definitely cannot afford to have Expectations.
Or have someone expect too much from me.
Unfortunately, I may have a lot to give.
But not today.
Today's too soon.

Home

"My mind's distracted and diffused,
My thoughts are many miles away.
They lie with you when you're asleep,
And kiss you when you start your day."
(Verse from "Kathy's Song" by Simon and Garfunkel, 1965.)

If I could simply live within this song.
It reminds me of Home.
Of me.

Simon took a piece of me away with his words.
I remembered this piece now.
I seemed to have forgotten about it.
Left it stranded and alone.

The music reminds me of my memories.
Enjoying Love.
Painting.
Dancing.
Singing.
Crying.
Hoping.

It reminds me of the "drops of rain..."
Like a Memory they fell.
Each drop a reminder of myself.
Each a burning memory of the past.

The steps I took then
are slowly returning.
Uncertainly questioning.
Dancing with the drizzle.
Expecting a Storm.

"And as I watch the drops of rain,
Weave their weary paths and die.
I know that I am like the rain,
There but for the grace of you go I."

Surprises

Today's post will be far from intangible.

Impressed.

Last night was...
Different.

It reminded me intensely of Martha Stewart.
(Apparently she is to have Jamie Oliver on her show during Thanksgiving 2006.)
The details were incredibly specific.
Everything from chopped mushrooms and onions
to numerous salts and spices.

There was a hint of Frank in the air.
Followed by dear old Kenny.
Lemons and Cactus finished it off well.

There were mountains of cushions,
which finally ended up in a bad back.
Perfect lines seemed to dominate as well.

Purples and Browns were rather confusing.
So was the dolphin...shark.
Though the confusion was appreciated,
It seemed to diminish my own.

Decisions were not taken.
Few relevant questions were asked.
Apart from an infamous "What?"
Which lacked all significance...
The focus today is rather simplistic:

"Striving to better, oft we mar what's well."

(Quote from "King Lear" by William Shakespeare, 1605)

Finally, I would like to say,

"Thank you for last night."

Mums...

Words of wisdom.

My mother always insisted that a girl should find a tall man.
One who always has to bow his head if he wants to look at her.

Not because this is useful when the woman wears heels.
Not because it just...looks better.

But because this may be the only point in time when he shows respect.
A bowed head is an unmistakable sign of Respect.

Cheers Mum!

Ode to the Bitter and Confused

THIS GRAVE CONTAINS

ALL THAT WAS MORTAL OF

A YOUNG ENGLISH POET

WHO

ON HIS DEATH-BED

IN THE BITTERNESS OF HIS HEART

at the malicious power of his enemies

desired these words to be engraved

on his tomstone

"HERE LIES ONE WHOSE NAME

WAS WRIT IN WATER"

FEB 24 1821

Keats, of course.

No other Poet would illustrate his death is such a fashion.

This request,

bitter as it may be,

describes the life Keats lead.

Everything from his difficult childhood,

His defeated love,

To his untimely death.

Or maybe it's just the perfect way to describe life.

"I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your Loveliness and the hour of my death. O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute. I hate the world: it batters too much the wings of my self-will, and would I could take a sweet poison from your lips to send me out of it."

(Excerpt from a letter from John Keats to Fanny Brawne.")

The sexual undertone obvious here...

Today has been one of the most tiring days.

Treacherous.

Challenging.

Simply unsuccessful.

But I just cannot stop enjoying certain moments.

It seems to be leaning into something positive.

Something I didn't entirely expect...

It's incredible how many of us are torn between emotions.

Wilde Risks

"Illusion is the first of all pleasures."
(Quote by Oscar Wilde.)


Risks.
Today's world is filled with risks.
Risks are the one thing I wish I could avoid.
At least today.


I spent this weekend in contemplation.
With a touch of worry.
Mild questioning.
A lack of trust.
And numerous smiles.

It's hard to trust oneself with certain decisions.
It would have been much easier if I was only concerned about trusting another.
Who knows what Tomorrow has to say about my life.
Who knows what Thoughts enter this confused mind of mine.
What if all my expectations are crushed?
Better yet, what expectations do I have?

I would have decided against the idea.
Just wondered at the possibility.
Enjoyed the Illusion.

If only these smiles didn't insist I take another step...
If only Pleasure could be continued with keeping this Illusion.

Life

"If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it...Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being."
(Quote from "Wuthering Heights" by Emily Brontë, Chapter 9.)

What is it about "Wuthering Heights" that describes me?

Maybe it's the crazy romance.
The hope of something more that the mundane life lead by so many.
Myself being incredibly childish and sincerely in love with
the idea of love and romance and perfect beauty,
I find Emily Brontë's view of life incredible.
She writes so knowigly.

Maybe that's the factor of interest.
Emily herself lived till the young age of thirty.
There are no reasonable records of her having been in love,
or even having had mild affairs.
How can someone with such little experience describe Life?

How is it plausible, that someone with such a sheltered life,
describe things far from innocent.
"Wuthering Heights" is sensual.
It's disturbing.
Frightening.
Disruptive.
Sexual.
Violent.
Yet so beautiful.
So calm.
Clear.
Simple.

Maybe that's the answer.
Experience doesn't have to bring Love.
It doesn't have to include Life.
I suppose it is all about attempting to Live.
Live in a manner that may one day satisfy.

Now only to discover what this life thing is...


P.S.
Webster's describes life as:

1 a : the quality that distinguishes a vital and functional being from a dead body
(No, no, there's definitely something wrong about that definition given the topic at hand...)

2 a : the sequence of physical and mental experiences that make up the existence of an individual
(Ok then, so that was virtually one of the most painfully hollow definitions.)