Posts Tagged ‘isolation’

I don’t want to play.

Thursday, May 9th, 2013

Everywhere I turn and look
Someone around is telling me
How the only way to keep good relationships
is to be playful
And the only way to be a real woman
is to not care about being sexy

Everywhere I turn and look
Someone around is telling me
That the only way to make money from my art is
to spend every waking minute of my life
pouring my soul into the laps of strangers and
asking them for handouts

Everywhere I turn and look
Someone around is telling me
How the only way to be good for the people around me
is to think positively always
And the only way to salvation
is fucking love

Fuck love.

I don’t want to be playful.
I want to fucking screamcry
like an angry
raging baby and
slam my door
in your smiling fuckass face.

I don’t want to have to overcome
being fat
or haggard
or missing a fucking limb
so you can see I’m a worthwhile
deep person
because I have a fucking persecuted vagina
that men want but are afraid of
and I know
how to put on eyeliner

I don’t want to pretend
that I’m not a fucking introvert
who wants to be paid first
and loved later
for my god damn
soul sucking

I don’t want to pretend
that the first thing I see
when someone tells me a lie
or fucking hurts me
is their god damn good intentions

Fuck your good intentions.

I don’t want to pretend
that love is the be all
end all
of what life is about

Even if
that means
you’ll find someone else
to play with.

I don’t write poetry

Sunday, April 28th, 2013

Do you think
It will matter
Who is standing beside you
In the moment you realize
You finally know
How to love?

– Courtnee Papastathis

Wednesday, April 10th, 2013

“Those who are able to see beyond the shadows and lies of their culture will never be understood, let alone believed, by the masses.” – Plato

Monday, March 25th, 2013

“If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.” – C.S. Lewis

“Madness lingers” – Music from Alice

Thursday, April 26th, 2012

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Earlier this year, partially due to extended illness, I became deeply entrenched in the game Alice: Madness Returns, which is the sequel to American McGee’s Alice. It’s the first game I’ve really sunk my teeth into in a decade, and once I did that, I thrashed it around in my mouth like a rabid bulldog for weeks.

I found myself relating to the visuals, storyline and music in the sequal even more than I had the original, and in ways I can’t summarize quickly. There were even pieces of my original songs that stuck out in this soundtrack. The feel and movement of the audio in the game has, but especially had then, a sinisterly heavenly feel to it. It overtook me, gave me nightmares, personified my own flavor of festering pain I’d refluxed up at the time, and extended its hand to me.

In a word, it was fucking beautiful.

I don’t recall how I stumbled across wickedslicks1003‘s game extensions on youtube, but I did, and I’m glad for it. I still try to fall asleep to this stuff sometimes, but because I still have really fucked up dreams when I do that, I mostly listen to it as background and sing with it. I imagine at some point soon I will make good on my priority to learn how to play some of it, and I won’t be surprised if some of this music makes its way into Obsidian next year.

Above isa flash-player offering my favorite of the games musical pieces, extended into ~10 minute long tracks.

Below, one of my interpretations.


An introverted peace

Saturday, April 7th, 2012

For as long as I can remember, I have identified with with my thinking, and being thought of, as a naturally extroverted, gregarious, outgoing person.

It wasn’t a conscious choice, it just happened somehow that I caught onto the facts that a) I did well at creating myself as the center of attention and b) that people who are noticeable are the ones who receive the affirmation and encouragement I wanted.

I remember a specific interaction I had as a very young person, as I began to withdraw in response to the pressures of significant dysfunction and tension in my home life. A no-doubt well-intentioned, somewhat concerned figure of authority and reverence to me, probably my Dad or one of my favorite teachers, took me aside and mentioned missing the bubbly me.

In that moment, I determined that the quiet, introspective me, wasn’t good enough. That being that person made the people I cared about hurt and worry, got me in trouble, and being available and seen was what was best for everyone. Through this and other observations, over time nurturing my fledgling ability to communicate my desires authentically and effectively was overlooked.

It is true: I have magnetic, charismatic social talents, and I do occasionally truly and fully enjoy going out into the world and sharing them. Coupled with my intuition and understanding of people, I’ve experienced amazing, even transformative social interactions that I highly value as part of the life I’ve lead, and I am certain I will again.

However, I have habitually, and with potentially misguided examination, met my more frequent tendencies toward solitude — though intense and from a deep place — with shame, and all too often with a vehement self inflicted emotional punishment.

In my teens, my deep desire for a quiet safety and security was under constant, incessant attack. Though eventually recognizing the wisdom in doing so, I left high school an angry, guarded, self-perceived social failure, even though I passed the equivalency exam with ease at the age of 15, immediately and very successfully joining the work force.

Due to many factors I spent years in an agonizing isolated depression, in pain, online; a constant pressurized stream of my fears, my weaknesses, and my disappointments lurching passionately from my mind into IRC channels full of people ready to commiserate and affirm my negative beliefs, which were carefully constructed to appear as though I thought they were completely and utterly right. And I probably did.

It took me until 27 years into my life to be able to say, compassionately and authentically, that I didn’t enjoy loud live music, crowds, and bars so packed I’d find myself having to scream in order to be heard speaking. Due to other facets of my personality as well as prioritizing social interaction, it was scary and incredibly hard to ask for the closer one on one and small group connections my soul was really seeking.

Until my 30’s I met the physical disturbances in my body, and the numerous emotional hurdles present in most of my preparation for social events, with blame and negativity. For years, I’d get churning nervous shits while preparing to go out, holding onto the promise of inhibition annihilation by way of drugs and alcohol to power through it.

I have often been assuming that those responses were just me being weak, and seen my anxiety an unnecessary obstacle, or worse, a fundamental psychological flaw. I have scorned myself for wanting to be alone, for wanting to hide, for wanting quiet around me, when I feel scared or threatened or off kilter or tired.

Self scorn, and more frequently now self-doubt, is still my first response toward wanting to be with myself, in many cases. It’s a long road back from it being nearly impossible to trust when I need to be alone, and when I am trying to withdraw to punish myself in silence. Over time, they had simply become the same thing.

As I’ve aged and learned more about how and why to be alone, I’ve started to embrace alone time, usually in the form of travel. For a long period of my young-adult life I forced myself to constantly value expressing connection over taking time for myself, in part for fearing that if I took that time my job/lover/friend/parent/insert-connection-of-value-here would be gone when I returned, and as such often undermined the limited time I had so boldly and bravely taken.

Boldly and bravely may even be an understatement. Even now that I am beginning to master recognizing my need for solitude in wilderness, and having felt the amazing freeing power in listening to that call, prioritizing it is still incredibly challenging. Over these last few months as I’ve been frantically struggling, I’ve known and even proclaimed to others repeatedly that I desperately need to get away for a while, even just a few days, and have yet to make it happen.

There are many, many pieces to this puzzle of worth, of connection, of belonging and feeling accepted, for every one. What this woman said helped me find another one of mine:

In health and otherwise, my introversion is where my revelations come from. It’s where the meaningful, impactful words I write, the ideas I share, and my awareness of the connection I feel with humanity comes from. It’s where my performances come form, it’s where the layers upon layers in my shows come from, it’s where the compulsion to create Vita Arts came from. It’s where my paintings, my music, and every self photograph I’ve used in this post comes from.

My introversion is the birthplace of my extroversion. It’s how I communicate with my soul.

Hiding isn’t always a lie.

Wednesday, April 4th, 2012

While petting and comforting me last night: “You will find yourself again, soon.” – Edgars Klepers

Wednesday, February 15th, 2012

God, my music is *dark*.

Your paradise is not for me.

Sunday, July 10th, 2011