somniare.

sometimes, my head explodes

the weight of waiting January 30, 2008

Filed under: about me,philosophical muse — somniare @ 10:59 am

I’m beginning to see my writing to be a lot like a weather vane. My thoughts like charged atoms vibrating wildly as clouds gather at the horizon. They sense the involuntary repression brought by inclement times. Perhaps they are feeding from the sun which I’ve recently let in. Sometimes I wonder if my willingness to peel back the skin a little and expose some raw pieces of self only invite the light to burn and speed up the merciless storms in the distance. Of course, it could be that I can think more openly and write with the freedom of my unfocused mind when I step down from my dedicated sentry position and take the time to acknowledge the existence of peripheral vision. It isn’t easy to take a break from standing guard.

On that note, I’m going to tackle one of the many recurrent subjects I’ve been encountering lately while I am still at ground level and out of the watchtower.

It gets told to me every day by at least one person that I am one of the most patient people they’ve ever encountered. I never really thought about it up until recently, but it’s showing up around every corner like it’s something I should take the time to wrap my mind around. Ironically, when it comes to silly things, I don’t have an ounce of it. I can’t stand to wait at a stop light or know that someone has a surprise that they won’t reveal. There are multiple times I find myself swallowing my all encompassing rage as I’m forced to sit through something I find boring, annoying, or completely repulsive. I honestly hate having to wait for anything that I can possibly define as insignificant to my life as a whole.

Interestingly enough, you’d think those things mentioned would confuse a lot of people into thinking, “Gosh, that girl has no patience at all!” As it turns out though, patience has a much deeper meaning than the willingness to wait. A lot of it is in the presentation. Take my job for example. Do you really think I want to sit and take a half hour out of my extremely hectic schedule to get the world’s oldest living relic into the bathroom. No, of course not! But it’s not in me to make someone who is sick in the hospital feel like a burden to me when I have chosen a career specifically geared to healing and helping those in need. I put a smile on my face and gently guide them, all the while assuring them that I am most certainly NOT busy and I have more than enough time to help them. Why do they insist I must have immense amounts of patience? Because no one else seems to. Rush rush rush… dragging these people around like rag dolls and scowling in a way that says, “You’re no more important than the rest so move your damned ass!” I’m no saint, that thought crosses my mind every day. That’s the reality of being a patient though. Many are equal in neediness and there is bound to be at least a few in more dire need than the archaic shell of a person I may find myself moving in slow motion beside at any given moment. What is the sense in creating such apprehension in a sick person who needs you that they feel it necessary to start every sentence with, “I know you’re busy but…”

Patience runs deeper than the appearance on the surface as well. Most everyone has the friends that seem to call non-stop in need of support for problems so consistently that you wonder if they have ever seen a bright day in their lives. My patience goes beyond the constant pillar I become to those who mean something to me. I’ve been known to spend hours counseling complete strangers on their deepest issues. I stick around as a support until I’ve served my purpose and then I stand back and disappear. I do this regularly. People find me out of nowhere just to open up their pandora’s box to someone who will listen. Yes it requires an epic amount of patience to dedicate such large amounts of time to complete strangers.

These days, true patience is not only a commodity among the masses, it’s become something unrecognizable and unappreciated. The world is comprised of takers and givers… without tolerance, you can never be anything more than a taker. I do wonder if such a virtue will run dry in me. Will there come a point when I get sick of others getting frustrated with me or never taking the time to see past their own world of various dramas to notice that I exist as something other than a pocket psychiatrist. Have I crafted my own destiny of loneliness out of a desire to be needed? Patience does not bring happiness. Being needed for support purposes is not the same as being needed for everything I can offer as a person just existing.

There are so many things patience is mistaken for: generosity, openheartedness, selflessness… these just being a few examples. I may have aspects of each of those but I harbor their antonyms equally. While that may be a fact, I still have both feet firmly planted on the ground when it comes to matters requiring steadfastness. When no one else has been there, most people can say that I was. I stuck it out. I am proud of myself for that because I feel like I can mean something just using a natural born part of my personality. Where it leaves me thinking is when I wonder if that is what I am truly seeking in someone to share my life with.

There are no viable consequences that I can manifest about bringing two people together with immense amounts of sufferance. The challenge would come in when one person possesses the quality and the other one can’t see it and spends the greater portion of time chipping at the walls of fortitude. It may be necessary to have a giver and a taker in order to keep a balance, but as I pointed out, you can’t be a giver without patience and having two takers in a relationship is a recipe for failure. Eventually the surplus will run dry and the relationship will shrivel.

I’m getting old. I find that it is impossible to find an intelligent and worthwhile companion who retains the virtue of patience in the midst of rebuilding life in the post-apocalypse of failed relationships. In that light, the real question comes in. Can patience be learned? Can it be taught? Can it be absorbed from another? Perhaps my only hope will be to subliminally infuse it into my other. If I can’t, I will find myself waiting for someone who couldn’t bear the weight of waiting.

 

gathering dust January 28, 2008

Filed under: in.between — somniare @ 5:35 pm

I hate that I sit for days welling to the brim of things to say but lack the time to sit down and get them out. By the time I sit down, dissipation has begun and I’m left grasping at my ideas as they drift like dust in the light.

Isn’t that how most things work though? I feel like I spend most of my life reaching. Even when I can grasp a hold, the grip is tenuous and I feel the slip. When I do have a firm hold, I find that only having two hands means that whatever may pass by during the struggle is left to it’s own devices while I am indisposed. Who knows what is lost while the focus is on one level of salvation.

Meanwhile, in the midst of all of this holding tight and letting go, I just watch. There is peace sometimes in just watching your thoughts swim in the vacant space behind eyelids. Eventually, the dust will settle and the entertainment of envisioning shapes against the light will evaporate…. until something stirs it up again.

 

cause and effect pt.1 January 24, 2008

Filed under: philosophical muse — somniare @ 1:35 am

We spend years developing ideals which are often shaped by the people who have affected us over the years. I question whether or not there is evolution in that or if we simply use the existence of other people to help define our underdeveloped senses of self. I wonder if the people who find themselves with their happy endings and minimal strife get to that point because they were born into this world knowing who they were.

This may sound contradictory to my firm belief that if you ever stop learning about yourself, you have reached a dead end. It’s not a contradiction per se as much as an expansion. People are dynamic by nature and being that there are countless experiences out there that can shape a person, it’s near to impossible to remain completely static all throughout your life. The people we meet- and either let in, shut out, or even completely ignore- they are all experiences in their own way. There is a fine line separating what is genuine change and the superficial alterations made simply due to the existence of a certain personality come in contact with.

Where is the line between changing and recovering what was lost along the way? Where is the line between a gaping schism in our foundations and what is nothing more than the slow shifting of plates deep below the surface of being? There is a fault line regardless and the slightest quake makes a difference… perhaps there is no definitive line separating the two results of cause and effect but more a matter of when our inner tuning picks up the signals.

Do we use other people to deceive ourselves into believing that something somewhere is shifting? The sad truth is that we just might not be able to tell the difference between sensing a change and wanting it. Our desperate desire for change, evolution and personal enlightenment drive us to see people as tools. Can an outsider really be a true catalyst… or is that just an illusion?

 

echoes inverted January 23, 2008

Filed under: from the mute to the deaf — somniare @ 2:04 am

I can’t sleep. It’s nearly 2 in the morning and all I can do is stare at the ceiling and listen to the empty house. I feel nothing but space and it is crushing me. All of this damned space. There’s a draft despite the insulation. I cry when I’m not sad… there’s just nothing else I can do.

I can’t.

I don’t even know what that means… it’s some obscure mantra the repeats over and over and over in my head. I can’t… I can’t… I can’t.

I am dark because the night is dark. I am cold because the night is cold. I am empty because this space is empty.

There is no concept of time here. The clock moves and the numbers change but everything around me stays the same. Seconds shift seamlessly into months and I can’t tell which is which any more. Am I feeling a moment or experiencing an eternity?

When the weight of the vacuum deprives my heart of sustenance and I finally succumb, will I wake up and find something more? I want to roll over and find warmth.

Is this what I asked for… my new life sought so desperately… am I really here again?

 

validating logorrhea January 22, 2008

Filed under: from the mute to the deaf,hell is other people,my evolution — somniare @ 1:45 pm

If it hasn’t been blatantly apparent, Life As We Know It has been consuming me in ways I am struggling to cope with.

This morning started just like any other. I woke up at the relatively late time of quarter to 10, stumbled with my half vision into the bathroom, then trudged down the stairs to get my son his breakfast- Lucky Charms of course, due to his obsessive cereal phase and crippling fear of trying anything new. All the while feeling miserable due to having lost my most productive morning hours to the waste that is sleep and thinking about how much I didn’t want to go to work in 4 hours. It then struck me, “Oh yeah, I have the day off today!” Let the games begin.

I sat down at this glorified heap of excrement cleverly disguised as “technology” and proceeded to work feverishly on my newest piece. I had to abandon working further on it last night due to that “something is missing” feeling that creates quite a frustrating block. As I worked, I felt the familiar squirming of repressed words deep in my belly. See, I can’t even take a hiatus without failing.

Being a writer is a lot like being pregnant. The incubation time of a worthwhile body of writing can often be even longer than the seeming eternity of 40 weeks that it takes to develop a new human being in the womb. In my experience, a good piece of written work is more useful than most children anyhow and much more worthy of the painful duration of gestation. Don’t get me wrong, I am a parent and love my kids but children are parasites until they can fend for themselves. Like it or not. Sure they come with many joys… but let’s be real here. I’m not going to recant my statement for the fragile-minded who now see me as a heartless woman who should never have been given the privilege of bearing children since I didn’t start this paragraph with the intention of disparaging the importance, worth, and satisfaction behind rearing children.

The truth of it is being that I have the experience of pregnancy, I can create an educated comparison to writing. It’s no mystery to those who know me (and even those who don’t) that I can be exceptionally moody. It seems to be at it’s worst during long gaps between fervent writing. When I can’t seem to find that enthusiasm to release the rampant thoughts circling in my head, they seem to fall into a black hole… a void of darkness… and they take my mood down with them. It’s just one more of the many vicious cycles I find myself in. Without the release, there is no hope for my mood… but with the negativity comes the lack of desire to exonerate the verbal effluence.

Then I get to this point where eloquence turns to nothing short of logorrhea. The conscious effort has to be put forth to not sound like I’ve never had a solid day of education in my life. Though, I suppose if it were effortless, I would be a prodigy of sorts.

In these recent months, I have been becoming an increasingly feeling-centered personality. My block prior to the creation of this little blog was the product of laying emotionally dormant for the better part of 3 years. Even before the mass levels of coldness set in, I was still lacking in many of the sensitivities that had long ago been a part of my natural makeup. I believe I’ve pondered that subject before, so I’ll avoid redundancy there. The point of mentioning it comes in the fact that my moodiness is creating hundreds of mini blocks a day. I’ve paused and resumed this one entry a half dozen times and turned what should have been 15 minutes worth of writing into 3 hours. It’s almost as if Life as I Know It changes drastically in short increments of time. Most likely due to the way moods alter perspective and our vision of life is all we really have to base our existence on.

I suppose I may still be on hiatus from exposing many of my personal thoughts and feelings to a world that really only absorbs one or two sentences anyway. The fact is though, I do it for me… maybe even to be reassured that my vision of worldly ignorance remains unchanged and will be validated by your multitudinous misconceptions and skewed analysis of who I am and where I stand. We all need validation in some area of our lives, no matter how insignificant.

 

the last straw January 20, 2008

Filed under: hell is other people — somniare @ 6:18 pm

I can never win. Ever. Everything I do and everything I say is always wrong… to everyone. I’m tired of people only appreciating me in reflection. Apparently my lips move, but no sound comes out. Why even bother screaming?

Apparently, my knowing nothing makes my opinions and attempts worth absolutely nothing. In fact, regardless of my attempts to care about anything, decline is imminent.

My resolution? Stop giving a shit about improving anyone’s circumstances. The people who have given a damn about my feelings have also never made me feel useless and insignificant.

Maybe I’ll be able to care a little more when I stop having to ask people to consider me. One day there will be room for me. At some point, I will be accommodated without resentment just because I needed to matter.

I’ve lost my inspiration and until I can find it again, I’ll be on hiatus from divulging my thoughts and feelings publicly.

 

no more dead end January 11, 2008

Filed under: from the mute to the deaf — somniare @ 4:21 am

I cleaned house recently. Discarded a lot of useless memories and words better off forgotten. Since then, I’ve been scared to speak. I fear digression whenever the urge to write surfaces. I wrote for others who couldn’t hear me… but to no avail since they couldn’t see me either.

My cup is overflowing now.

When did silence become so expensive? I pay the price for damages accrued over years. The ignorance of others has rendered me useless when I need to just… be. Who I was and who I am are very different and either way I seem to following the same path to an implosion of nothingness. My thoughts, my emotions… have become a black hole… determined to feed on victims.

I am trying. I’m here… see me… hear me…