Spray-paint, name tags & great coffee.

I promised you my story…but it will have to wait for another day. Today is a little cloudy, and while things sort themselves into fashionable order, I will take the opportunity to just share a few ‘in the meantime’ thoughts.

I’m having a night. One of those ones I haven’t seen in a while. It’s not exactly ‘bad’…just flat and grey and I know in the corner of my mind, like a catching a fleeting glimpse of something…something is not quite right.
It’s been a long week. Oh…hang on…It’s been a long few months!!

While I haven’t been super forthcoming with details (with nearly anyone-don’t worry, you’re not being singled out) my whole life has changed. Why?…because I made it so. Because it had to, to save my sanity and self respect. Because there just comes a time when it should. And I knew it was exactly that time. Time for change.
Someone said to me this week, that it seemed I had a new ‘persona’. It was interesting, because all it really meant, was that that person had never seen/noticed this side of me before. I haven’t changed, I’m just more of me than I was before. I still can’t decide what I want from a menu in less than (at least) 5 minutes. I still have trouble crawling from underneath warm covers in the morning. I still have an unquenchable thirst to create and be inspired. I still run through the house singing, and crash tackle my dogs when they’re not expecting it. I still love rainy nights in and clear nights out. Strong coffee always features in my day and I smoke cigarettes.
Those things are parts of who I am, but they are not all of who I am.
Maybe the thing that’s changed, or just become more obvious, is that now I have found this place that I love. A place I actually want to be, explore, and let inspire me. And I know what I do want, don’t want, and what I deserve. My boundaries and desires have become quite clear. And from somewhere, I have tapped back into my reserve of independence & self-confidence to establish in my mind, that I am completely capable of achieving.

You see, through my life I have been respectively told that I am nothing, nothing without someone else, that I am plain, and that I …cannot. And I have repeatedly taught myself that I can.
Maybe I am not pretty or feminine or delicate. Maybe I don’t inspire second glances or stand out in a crowd…but I am beautiful and colourful for who, and as, I am.
Maybe I don’t make the most money. Maybe I am not a world celebrated artist or business owner. Maybe I have not grappled my way to the top…but I am proud of my achievements and strength.
And maybe I cannot do everything I try…but at least I try.

And now I am here, in this brand new chapter, feeling pretty brand new. I am experiencing new things, and trying to feel every moment of the present for just what it is. 3 weeks ago, someone I had literally just met, looked at me and asked me point blank “Do you always run away from things?” And I replied…”No, I’m not running away…I’m moving forward”. It was either forward or down, and I decided I’m not ready to go down just yet.
One day I might tell you where I am, and what has changed, but right now that’s just geography. The important stuff, is where I’m at. And it’s a better place.

It’s pre-school bedtime hours for me tonight kids. Have to be up early with the morning people, but I’ll be around the way again soon.
Hope you are all well, and looking for your better place…if you haven’t already found it. Maybe you have and you just don’t know it?
Cheers
V

 

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The opening act.

So, I’ve made some decisions and plans lately. Not your average, off the cuff kind of things. Not the fleeting things that are fairly inconsequential or lacking in substance. The huge ones. The ones that change everything. To make it just a little clearer than mud, they are the kind that leaves me with the only two things in my life that are constant, remaining. Everything else…nada.

In time, I’ll tell you about them all, as they inspire me to write, to feel, or to vent. For now, let’s just say they are monumentally life changing, and leave it at that.
However there is one catch…

To truly change and move forward, one must let go of what was, to embrace what is, and what will be, or can be. We need to rid ourselves of not only ‘things’, but the ‘things’ our minds also keep. We need to become versed in letting go of the past and things that are bad for us. The things that lingered and stopped us from living the life we deserved, wanted or needed to. Especially the toxic things, or fabrics made of lies.

That’s one of the hardest things in the world to do, for any living soul, that has an ounce of love or compassion in their bones. It is made easier with anger, hurt and pain. It is made easier when you see certain ‘truths’ for the lies that they are, and it is made easier when you start admitting your own self worth and desires.

You see…love is one of the strongest things there is, a force to be reckoned with. It can fix broken things. It is in everything. But the catch is, some people use it, twist it, and then rely on it to save them from consequence. But if you abuse it, disregard it…when it is gone…what can save you then?

So, I will be, moving forward that is. Because everything in my life…it is my story to tell, and the time seems just about right to do that.

I’m guessing that most of you are not going to want to miss this, so you might want to keep an eye out for the next blog. I have been accused of often being vague, misleading (in a harmless way), unfocused and have been told I can digress. This post, will not be one of those. It might be long and difficult to digest…but life often is. It’s really not the happy stroll along the waterfront that you think it’s going to be.

Til then Kids. Get your beauty sleep.
Cheers,
V

 

The other C word

When life gets hurtful, people say there are no words. There are always words…the real problem, is that some cannot put aside their ego or selfishness long enough, or are not strong or honest enough to say them. Because words make how you feel into reality. Words like Love, sorry, promise, loyal, hurt or goodbye. They put a part of you out there in the world in some way, to be acknowledged in some way, to be seen. Some people are not real enough, to use words.

If there was a word for this, what I feel now, above all others, it would be conflict. It was even a conflict, as to whether or not to write here, yet, or ever again. Because I currently have little tolerance for anyone or anything. I have depleted people skills other than wanting near everyone to just fuck off and leave me to my own devices, and no desire to share personal feeling with anyone, let alone that one person. I can likely rest safely assured however, that he will not read this, and has happily turned away, seemingly secure in the knowledge, that he never has to set eye on me, my writings, or anything else to do with me ever again. And I have accepted that is what he wants. I have accepted many things in that regard.

Me however, I am caught/torn in this intense situation. A cocoon if you will. It is this painfully real transformation of one thing into another. A myriad of truth and painful realisations.

It’s like piecing this puzzle together, as as it all slides into place a light comes on, and then the ground drops from beneath your feet. All you feel is falling, and after a while you stop fighting it…

It’s not just feeling down. It’s an intense feeling–as intense as any you’ve ever felt–of betrayal, profound and irredeemable sadness, and despair. It bounces between needing and not wanting.

It has a lot of different feels, and lack thereof. The common factor, is that it all feels so fucking hard to do. Every little thing. Talking, eating, moving…and then you go to sleep (if at all possible), wake up, and it’s the same all over again. It takes the form of anger, irritability, resentment, hurt or just a deep chasm of emptiness. It is a near complete lack of sensory input.

It has been a calm rational thought ‘I should kill myself’ or ‘I am nothing’ and it didn’t even feel like sadness. It can be very cognitive, like -the world is an evil place, and people are heartless. You just feel the light drain from your eyes, and the eyes drain from your smile, and wonder if anything can ever bring it back.

Then, in stark contrast, there is this opposing desire to be strong and overcome. There is a passion to prove, that if I can make it through a minute, a day, and a week, then there is hope to survive another yet. And then defiance, opportunity, plans and other things creep in and push, whisper, push…to keep going. To do better. That there is more.

So, here’s where it changes, just one last time. Just as others have made choices, so have I. Only these ones are honest, resolute, progressive and some, concrete.

They are selfishly only for me, and surging with primitive desire to not only survive, but succeed. They are raw, spontaneous, laden with fear, anticipation and change, but I’m making them anyway. I can no longer stand still. Because if I do…I won’t make it. I can’t just exist any more.
Hence, I’m not sure what you all do for shits and giggles on a Friday, but I’m pretty sure it’s not diagrammatic reasoning, cognitive ability, personality factoring, verbal aptitude, inductive reasoning, psychometric and situational judgement testing. But today that has been my program, and a doorway to other things. Out of this closed dark room in my head and my house, drapes pulled shut.

I have this world of possibilities and new options in front of me, and I have to piece it all together again, but I will, because I can. I have done this before, clawed my way out of the dark…it sharpened my nails.

This time the hole is darker, deeper, and full of the broken bones of promises with debris of scattered dreams…but this time I know which way is up. And I will do it the only way I have ever done anything. Alone.
I just…need a minute.

Always know which direction you’re heading in Kids.
V

Night owl

Night-Owl-Moon2For all and any of you that continually tell me to get to bed (to sleep)…I do actually have a valid reason, to tell you to put a lid on it.
DSPD-social jetlag mutation
They found out I had this years ago, and again recently, but I just never really remember to tell anyone, because it’s just a part of who I am. It doesn’t bother me, and you can make life work around it.
I get asked if I have insomnia, told to relax, or go to bed earlier, neither of which makes a difference.
But a few of you are probably nodding and saying “Ahh, yes, this makes sense now”…
It gets worse when you are stressed or adhering to an irregular schedule too. “Oohhhh, right…that explains even more”.

They say it’s commonly linked to and/or aggravated by anxiety, depression, cardiovascular problems, diabetes and a myriad of other things, but this is not always the case, and with only around 10 percent of the population confirmed with it, they have done a relatively small amount of research. Because it is technically just a ‘disorder’ or mutation (yeeeah, I’m a fucking X-Man!) there is no ‘cure’. There actually is, no rest for the wicked 😉

It means that my body clock runs differently to most, and that there are quite literally, not enough hours in a day, for it to make sense of it. You can regulate it somewhat if you try hard to get into a routine or remove yourself from the general distraction of Society and technology for a while, but the other facets of my personality make that very difficult, so I have just adjusted around it more often than not.
UntitledIt means that I love the night-time (which I think is pretty cool). It’s when I feel the most awake, and able to coherently communicate or create better. It means that I have absorbing thoughts and ideas at 2am, that I just ‘have’ to write down, draw, remember or say. It means that I have to force myself to go to bed on the off chance that I will sleep. I have always had mixed feelings of guilt and satisfaction for it. It also means that I am ‘not’ a morning person-quite literally.
84dc3ae760e5dc14b07949b33bfc1215That said, my body still reacts according to my situation. If I am excited about waking up to something or someone, I will often naturally wake up without prompting. If I have something important to do, or somewhere to be, I find it extremely hard to fall asleep, because my brain convinces me that I may not wake up in time, yet my eyes open 5 minutes before the alarm sounds. If I am sleeping in a strange or uncomfortable place, I will sleep lighter, and wake up earlier.

Anyway, so now you know a little more about me. Not only am I admittedly a touch psychotic, focused and determined…but also sleep deprived and running largely on caffeine most days. Pretty fucking scary thought huh?

Cheers Kids.
Here’s to being different enough, to not live the slow death of fitting in. 😉
V

 

Let them eat cake.

images-6Today I did an incredibly adult thing. Probably the most significantly adulty thing of all things. I had chocolate cake for breakfast! It was fabulous.
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Now, I hear you say (with less than the respect in your tone, than should be given for the aforementioned action) how can this be an ultimate act of adulting? Well, I’m glad you asked. Here it is…

When we’re young, we can’t wait to ‘grow up’, to be adults, and be ‘allowed’ to do all the things that adults can do. We ponder having the ability to be in charge of ourselves, and to set our own rules. We abhor being told what to do, and the confines of childhood, parents and protectiveness. We endure going to school, learning, being educated, and being taught (and no, they’re not all just synonyms).
As kids, we try and get away with adult actions, or try to secretly fulfill our fantasies of what it will be like, when we can walk in heels, earn money, wear make-up, have sex, drive cars, drink alcohol, or elegantly puff on that long-stemmed cigarette like Audrey.

Adults say things like “Enjoy your childhood, while it lasts” and “School are the best days of your life”. Little do we realise that they are speaking from experience. That the days of being footloose and bill-free are limited, and soon enough, we will know why they say it. That the days of roaming the streets, sleepovers, unlimited parties and hanging out with your friends each day, come to an end.
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When it all does start to happen, we realise, that the glamour wears off very quickly.
Earning money means getting a job, which means sacrificing time with friends, or weekends, or other things that enhance the quality of your life. Yet the vicious circle, is that without the job/money, we can’t afford the time.
Jobs also mean being re-educated, more learning and being taught.
Driving a car, means maintaining it, paying registration, fuelling it and keeping it clean.
Wearing make-up, means more learning, allergies, colour-matching, and more money.
Walking in heels, yet more learning, discomfort and for some (much like watching a calf try to walk for the first time) admitting that you really can’t do everything.
Smoking means more money, and being aware of the health and social effects.
Sex means more learning, being responsible, realising that it involves emotion (and not just yours), and while it can be amazing…if you’re not careful, it can also get you into more trouble than you can imagine.
images-7And those things are really only the added items on the ice-berg tip of adulting. Let’s not even delve into paying for the staples like rent, mortgages, food, pets, everyday items, replacements, insurance, phones, internet and electricity.
All the ‘things’ that you never really accounted for when fantasising about ‘growing up’, because you weren’t even really aware that they existed in child-land.

You start to wonder why the fuck you ever wanted to be an adult in the first place-ever?! It seems like it’s just an endless stream of responsibilities and bills and adult rules. You didn’t sign up for this shit??! Where is the dream?? The freedom…
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And this, my friends…is why you should eat chocolate cake for breakfast. Because…you can. Because as an adult, there are things we can do, that hurt nobody, aren’t policed, and are well within our means to do. We can eat cake.
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We can set our own bedtime. We can go for long drives, and play loud music. We can take time to roll on the floor with our dogs, and run through the house. We can jump on the bed. We can watch old movies all night. We can go out for cool night walks, and talk on the phone at 2am. We can have picnic parties on the lounge room floor, and wash the dishes ‘tomorrow’. We can drink a bottle of whiskey and smoke cigarettes. We can get tattoos and piercings. We can wear whatever we want. We can sit on the beach, watching the waves roll in, until all you can see is a sliver of moon on the water, and so much more. And we can eat cake.
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We all too often lose sight of the freedoms and luxuries we actually do have, beyond all the responsibilities in full view. It is easy to forget we even have them. The little things.
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I’m not saying that cake can solve all of your problems, or even when exactly it is consumed, that will help. It is more the symbolism behiiiiind the cake. Whether you are miserably unhappy, or your days are full of love, breakfast cake can just remind you that not all is lost. That you can still make choices. That being an adult has its benefits, however small. That if you choose to eat cake…nobody in the world can stop you, even from doing just that one little thing. And if you look hard enough…you might find other things that follow.
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So Kids…mine was Belgian white chocolate…what’s your flavour?
Cheers
V

Weight-watchers be damned…

17522556_1301392963277581_5645933189065747420_n.jpgFor the third time this week, I have been asked if I have lost weight. For the thousandth time if I am okay. For the hundredth time, given advice.
The answers are respectively: yes, no, and no thanks.

I struggle to lose weight usually, and I have finally found the secret. Want to know it? Stop giving a fuck. It’s really that simple. Stop trying, stop doing anything at all. Oh sure, you could take the conventional route of healthy eating and exercise, and maybe even live longer, but this is so much simpler.
I have skipped meals for nights, days, who knows how long? I have intermittently added copious amounts of alcohol to the equation. I have slept a total of about 10 hours over the last week. I have engaged in heavy labour, while running on nothing more than a few sugar-free energy drinks and an odd vitamin. Oh, and walked quite a lot. And it seems I have found my thing. That thing that works for me. Oh goody.

Obviously this is all a product of two factors. Copious amounts of stress/pain and a less than fulfilling job.
I currently work odd hours, so eating properly becomes a juggling act of when, what and where, so it’s easier not to bother. (Don’t worry, my dogs are still getting all of their proper, regular meals). The energy drinks keep me awake for work-minus the sugar hit.
And the stress…well that takes care of the rest. Lack of appetite, sleeplessness, alcohol (but it’s good home still, crap-free alcohol-honest).
16976992_10211245417424952_493780419_nSo all in all, it’s quite a balanced plan of deprivation, and generally not caring. If only I’d known sooner. All those clothes I could have seen in a window and *not* bought, because that’s generally one of the things I don’t give a fuck about.

So, now that my heart and soul are at an all-time low, at least my self esteem will benefit from it. Always a silver lining huh? I might go down in a screaming heap, but at least I’ll look pretty good on the way down. And people are noticing to boot. I’ve been told I looked thinner (Okay…maybe they also added pale and distant), attractive, have great muscle tone (they may have said similar to She-Ra…or maybe not-you’ll never know), that I am impressive (even criminals can be impressive), that someone ‘wants’ me (don’t hold it against them-everyone makes poor choices), and even that my arse looks ‘perkier’ (don’t ask).
Sadly, the only person in the whole world, that I would want to notice, isn’t even looking. Not that I need the attention, or have done anything I regard as ‘notice-worthy’, it’s just a really shit realisation, that that’s the way it is.
17799354_1037995019669667_5197261132301515712_nI have lost almost a full clothes size in the last month by the latest measure, but I still have a ways to go, so I guess there’s a LOT more fucks to not be given. I’m not a comfort eater, in fact quite the opposite. Not only do I forget to eat when I feel bad, but I also feel bad when I eat. This where my lack of fuck-giving falls down. Every calorie makes me feel guilty and regretful…And I don’t need to feel worse than I already do (if that’s really even possible?)

As for being okay. I think it’s fairly obvious that I’m not, but we don’t need to go into any further detail just yet. If I can accept it, you can.
I’m pretty sure that the few people asking if I am, are really doing it for decoration, because they know otherwise, but just can’t change the fact. It’s a bit nice to know that they care enough to ask in the first place. Someone actually told me that if they can hear me making any noise, they relax for a while, because they know I’m still here. A pretty grave thought. I guess I can’t hide how I feel right now as well as I thought.
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My last word on the topic, is that I don’t really recommend this type of weight-loss regime for anyone. In fact I hope none of you, ever feel like this. But if you do-milk it.

Cheers Kids *raises highly alcoholic, sugar free mixer, terribly strong, glass*
V

Here

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I sat for a minute, lay down, not knowing what else to do.
There are, there are things to do, but what they are escape me right now.
The music puts its foot on my chest and holds me down and I don’t even try to wonder how. It says all the things I won’t understand.
I am existing. In this room. In this place, between nowhere and nowhere else.
It’s grey and rainy, and the weight is everywhere I can see.
Warm fur nestles to my side, begging that I love, feel, and the memories just flow, leak, roll.
The face I can see, and don’t see, and the hand I can’t touch, slides into my own. The heart I can’t reach, beats behind my eyes, pushing each tear to the point of overflowing.
That heart is gone, wherever mine is, they have run away together, but I am still here.
There are things to do. Important things, unimportant things. But what and which, is what and which?
The voice changes, the music, the song. It always changes.
And the chair sits in the corner and rocks, laments days when it was an important thing.
The scents leak from the cupboard. Things hidden away, nestle together in the comfort they can no longer give.
And the call beckons softly, to find another place, other things. To pack the music up and take it away with me.
The warm body next to me huddles closer. A tear licked away. A soft snuffle. Please?
I am here for the love you cannot give. The things that are gone. I am here.
I am here.
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