Nibbling at the fruit of the melancholy tree

His name was "Jeff". We had the same top hat. Thanks to him, the final part of my evening at the Zen 'Children Of The Night' party was lovely. :)
"May I sit by you?"
"Go ahead!"
"..Sooo.. what brought you to wear such a dashing top hat to this little party?"

Much better than:
"May I join you in this corner?"
"Yes, sure."
"....."
"....."
"Umm.. how was your evening..?"
"Uh, nice.. up and down. You?"
"..Same. Heh."
"Hah. Yeah, umm.. bye."

I still don't quite 'get' social interaction. Eh. I should just get a PhD in Physics and make that my excuse; "Sorry, I'm just not used to people. I spend my time musing over elementary particles and devising a way to create the Grand Unified Theory... *cough* It's a nice evening though..." ..I probably could get away with saying that sort of thing anyhow, it is after all mostly true.

Actually... I get some sociality.. I'm just not taking first prize for interacting with people who don't want to interact with me...*pause for laughter*... it's a skill that I used to have though, so this frustrates me. [annoyance] FUCKING FUCK. [/anger]

I'm probably just hurt because a person I knew for only a few hours was kinder and gave me more respect than people I've adored and worked with intimately for the past 6 months. *sigh*
..."Brought up by Disney movies to believe that if we're good enough, if we put enough "heart" into it, they'll see us for what we are, then accept and appreciate that. LIES."

Still feels ..(sporadically).. Wrong.

It starts with an "A"! Aardvark, Aardvark!

I was hurt.
Badly.

I forgot I could be this hurt. I thought I'd overcome it... James told me "You're only human." and... I I'd forgotten that.

I didn't even realize just how deep the pain ran until tonight. It'd been there but I overlooked it.

I felt constantly uncomfortable. Unsettled. Bothered. But the 'why' eluded me until about half an hour ago. (Was it obvious to everybody else? ..Am I the only one that didn't see it?)

...the question is, now I know, how do I fix this?
Perhaps asking that question is a step in doing so.

When the war is over got to get away

"Life is no cabaret.. we don't care what you say.. we're inviting you anyway.. you motherfuckers you'll sing someday!!"

Drunkenly wandering other people's unfinished houses and swigging from the bottle while standing in a half built jacuzzi, it occurred to me "I will remember this forever."
The rain started just as I climbed into a house frame without a roof.

I was one of those nights;
Totally worth it.

We all had delusions in our heads

Who knows, maybe I will change my mind again or realize something else further down the road. I'm comfortable with the idea of constantly evolving, rather than heading towards some inevitable goal. That's what life really is, I think.
...
Perhaps.
I talked to Kaylie today. I said more than I meant to. I don't regret it.
I can tell myself I know... and if I change my mind again, well then, I'll see how I think about it then.

“The future you have, tomorrow, won’t be the same future you had, yesterday.”
-Rant Casey

We choose between reality and madness

"I find myself stumped on something I'm trying to say" -Jason Webley

The following is an e-mail I wrote to Steven Mitchell Wright -Zen Zen Zo Teaching Artist- of my recent thoughts. I shan't send because in writing it, it served it's purpose... (the only thing it's missing is the word "discombobulating") ... Also, in the spirit of "truthfulness", another reason I won't send it is that I think I already know the answers... but I'm not comfortable with them. Not to mention the whole thing is written in the style of Buffalo buffalo Buffalo ect; Wank wank Wank wank wank wank (rec).
Perhaps the main reason, however, I'm not sending this is because I want his respect. And showing my 'doubtful, always questioning' side isn't something I do until I've determined I have that persons trust in me equal to my trust in them.

Steven,

I have not decided I will send this yet, but am writing it anyhow. As an experiment. As a form of expression. And, perhaps, as a way to figure out what I actually think about things. Setting them all out in the order that can only really be achieved through a typed letter. E-mail, I know, is a rather... impersonal medium (indeed, I don't even know if you check yours) but, never the less, I carry on.
First of all, let me start with what I'm after in sending this: I've been thinking quite a bit of late and I'd like to present my ideas to somebody I trust and respect and to say; "this is what I've come up with and I'd like you to tell me if I'm being absurd, please. Impart wisdom. Be nostalgic, I just want your opinion."
I hope that's not out of line and unfair to ask of you, but as I look to you as a 'teaching' figure (of sorts) it seemed appropriate. Also, a lot of the issue's I've been pondering have come up in Butoh classes and it seems natural to ask you in regards to them...
I believe what I need right now is down to earth, frank, "truthful" (we'll get to why I put that in inverted comma's in a minute), sensible discussion.
Prior to plunging on any further, I should perhaps provide you with some more 'back story'...
What you told me when I asked for help (or rather, looked pathetic and waved my arms in a defeated manner... I didn't even allow myself to voice it) after class this week wasn't... it wasn't what I was seeking. Though it was doubtless something that did indeed help, I already knew it. I could have sorted myself out without your input in that regard - not that I don't value it; I do. (Before I go any further I'd like to thank you. Deeply. "Truly" -if you will- for how far I've come due to your classes. Thank you, Steven.) I think what I actually wanted to ask was something along the lines of what's written above "I've thought about truth, I'm having difficulty, would you mind hearing me out and telling me your thoughts, please?"

Ok, enough preamble; truth.
I've always thought something 'true' was... inexorable. Yet these days I have such control over myself (and therefore, in turn, my world) it feels like everything has to be manufactured. Or, even if it isn't manufactured, I still have the ability to step in at any moment and alter it so it becomes so.
That is not inexorable. That does not seem like truth. Isn't truth unavoidable? Untameable? Something that you simply MUST do?
Is everything an act? Nobody is simply one dimensional, one person... they change, situation to situation, encounter to encounter ("We are what our situations hand us").
What is "being yourself"? Am I myself? (I seriously had to fight the urge to type "How am I not myself?" just then; it seemed rather cliché... is all of this cliché?) I don't understand.... I mean.. what if EVERYTHING is an act.. because it is really, isn't it? Just in varying degrees. ("All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts")
My every behaviour is measured and calculated within the boundaries that have been set up over my lifetime and as those boundaries and rules change constantly, I adapt to them; learning. Changing. There is no constant. So how can I be "myself" if I'm not sure what that is... or even if it exists..? Every thing's entirely under my control. And perhaps that's the point. Perhaps that's what I've been inadvertently working towards, which is fair enough, but, now that I'm here, how do I deal with such a thing?
Truth is elusive. Truth is fleeting. And, to tell the truth, I don't even know where to find it any more.

I think this also came about because I was finding things "Too easy"... almost "Too beautiful." I missed the fire. The struggle. The "I have to fight my way through this" and the feeling of being "alive" it brings with it. For some reason I'm now thinking of the phrase "Everyone learns faster on fire".
One of my favourite pieces of advice I've ever gotten was "Get over yourself." I need to remember that. I need to let go. I realise how self-indulgent this is of me, so I shall wrap up now.

I'd like to claim the above was written whilst drunk... or affected by some thing in some way - to say that it wasn't all "truth" and to pass it off so as to protect myself from hurt; in case you neglect to reply, or care, or any of the situations wherein the outcome could be considered "bad"... but I shan't, because I am not.
Admittedly it is rather early in the morning and I am without sleep, but that is not unusual, and hardly an "excuse for pouring my heart out".
Finally, I apologise for my garrulous nature and hope that, in the very least, this letter was not a waste of your time, for I do not believe it was a waste of mine.

Sincerely,

-Frin

Dust In The Wind.... All we are is dust in the wind

The Truth 101:

The Truth is a lie.
Fuck truth.
There is no truth.
It's all an act.
What is reality?
Nobody is simply one person... it changes, situation to situation, encounter to encounter.
Truth is fleeting.
Truth is elusive.
And, to tell the truth, I don't even know where to find it any more.

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts