sometimes, my head explodes

She said, perhaps April 19, 2010

Filed under: in.between,my evolution — somniare @ 7:29 pm

I found one sparkling silver-white hair today. Amidst the ashy greys and the black that is slowly becoming overwhelmed, this single strand caught my eye. Like a prized souvenir, it glistened there full of memories… nights to forget bleeding into days to remember… broken glass and fingernails and hearts… a spine curved beneath the weight of a burdened mind… the soreness in a phantom scar that should have long been healed but never let go.

In that one thread- a life I treasure, regret, own, and belong to. All at once, there came sadness and a smile. Maybe it’s all okay.


make-a-wish July 15, 2009

Filed under: my evolution — somniare @ 6:08 pm

I don’t think I ever believe I’ll live to see the day.

As if every morning is greeted with surprise that I’ve made it through another night. Somehow this wonderment sets me apart from those I watch go in and out, weaving their lives through mine for moments in seconds or years.

They say that we are where we’ve been. A cheap martini of genetics and experience with our environment skewered like a rotten olive to garnish. In one way or another, one will just end up exonerating their damages and waning sense of self as the cost of time. Sure, the excuse will coerce a night of drunken laughter and confessions for show, but every morning you’ll be blinded by the brilliance of truth in the luminance of lies. By twilight, the day will have dimmed it all again… and you’ll drink your chagrin by the litre.

And so I sit, malleable and unshaped, untouched and diffident… the make-a-wish child on the first and last roller coaster of their life. Every day might be the same, but I’ll awake amazed every time.. even if it’s never my last, I will never be my past.


A new year January 1, 2009

Filed under: my evolution,philosophical muse — somniare @ 2:46 am

I went back to my first post of the year for 2008 to see how far I’ve come… or more less, how far I haven’t.

My eloquence has forsaken me. My talent for language moved onto more fertile ground and left me to follow my singular path backward in perpetual digression. Every moment that I feel is my worst ends up eclipsed in the next minutes… full of ambiguous wording and ellipses replacing the experience provided only by proper punctuation.

My grammar seems to be the casualty of the year. As I’ve become more and more mentally scattered, any intelligent thought wanes away in the wake of emotional tides. I suppose that as we evolve on some levels, there has to be retrograde on others. Such is the nature of balance in how we maintain our unique personalities while becoming something different at the same time. Evolution in humanity is contradictory that way. It works out in such a fashion that one might question whether or not it qualifies as development at all but rather a minor alteration, such as rising the hem of a skirt you’d like to shorten or sewing a new button onto a shirt that many would have simply thrown in the trash.

If it were up to me, I’d toss my whole being into the trash. Chalk my existence up to a glitch in the system and let a higher power develop a more dynamically stable model. If everyone felt that way though, we’d end up a society of highly functioning automatons, performing our assigned tasks in a worldwide society of functional communistic beliefs. We’d be robots without flaw and, by default, without the ability to learn and grow from our mistakes before being deemed obsolete and destroyed. Truth be known, this is possibly the reality of our lives already… our deaths only being testament to our ceasing functionality and uselessness in the grand scheme of things.

Existential crises and depression stem from instinctive awareness of our lots in life and definitive fates. Those that find themselves faced with such states often medicate in an effort to numb the pain ; diminish the agony of performing day to day pointless activities and ultimately fruitless obligations. The numbness only suffices in the eyes of the perfect Utopian mechanical world. As much as it would seem ideal to run our course without the suffering of cognizance… we are what we are here. We need to come to terms with our own places in this world.

I’ll take my faults with a grain of salt. I’ll enjoy the flavor of cherries and appreciate vintage photography in all of its emulsified beauty. I’ll kiss and laugh and smoke and brood. It’s another year of being alive and aware that life is simply varying levels of unhappiness regardless of how I’ve changed. This isn’t negativity. This is life.


resolve simply December 31, 2008

Filed under: almost poetic,my evolution — somniare @ 12:21 pm

I’ll throw antidotes at the sun and I will lay beneath, hypaethral. I will swallow the mutated light viruses and feel my cells singe in the most delicate of deaths.

Pages torn to pieces and thrown against the wind… they find me now, open to the sky.


dreamscapes November 18, 2008

Filed under: my evolution — somniare @ 12:47 am

I titled this with only the thought of a premise, curled up and small, like the damaged bastard fetus in a drug addicts womb.

And there it was, my color. Something dark and unnamed. Something vivid and sometimes shocking. My color soothes and abrades depending on the bend of light. I am the product of opal and onyx.

Our colors can be touched. Today I am a tired polyester. Vintage and consigned many times over the years. I am threadbare where I’ve been well worn and repaired one too many times.

I imagine that if you take a color and fold it on itself, it might make a sound. Today my hue sounds like cellos from a distance, an ebb and flow of three timeless notes conversing with each other about quantum physics. There chances of reaching crescendo are a mystery, much like their subject matter. This song is without colloquialisms and platitudes. Slow, soft, and rich.

In my fantasy, my world is an origami crane of color and fabric and song. It’s thrown into space where we’ll live there staring at the stars and loving our dimensions.


the hope that only sleeps April 24, 2008

Filed under: about me,my evolution — somniare @ 12:17 am

I think I need to force myself to write even when I have nothing to say. It’s simply easier to pity those who stumble on this and hold expectations for words laden with worth than it is to feel sorry for myself for my own repression.

Today was a word storing day. Every now and then I seem to collect every utterance… words, whispers, sighs… I tuck them away and reflect in the light of my monitor.

I updated a friend of mine on my divorce proceedings today, which I don’t usually speak much about. When I told her that no matter what was taken from me or how much I had to sacrifice to the undeserving that I couldn’t bring myself to reflect such selfish behavior in retaliation… she looked at me as if I had sprouted an arm from my forehead and did a handstand. I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t played those games before. I’ve lived most of my life lashing out at those who damaged me. Somewhere along the line, I learned that payback doesn’t get you anything in the long run. The temporary satisfaction in punishing those that have done me horribly wrong always ends up shadowed by the guilt later. I can tell myself over and over that my actions are validated, I can hear it from everyone else… hell, the person I hurt can come back and tell me they deserved what I did… it doesn’t matter. I can’t hang on to my humanity and make deliberate efforts to knock a person down no matter what the circumstances are. It may or may not make me an easier target, but I don’t care. I’d rather be under siege then fight a war with a person who has quickly become dead to me.

As is typical, what is currently at the forefront of my mind ends up making appearances everywhere. one of my patients got me talking about my divorce though not really in detail since I find it extremely unprofessional to drag your personal life into your place of employment. Her final statement of the matter was, “Well, you’re beautiful. I’m sure you’ll bounce back quickly and move on.” Is that so? So I should rely on my looks to obtain a life partner since the ugly ones will fully recover and move on. She herself had been through a divorce and the look of genuine sorrow for the fact I was going through it was a bit unnerving despite the horrifically worded statement regarding my ability to get through it. As is typical with me though, I smiled and told her not to be sorry… these things happen and it really wasn’t going all that badly. She nodded and said, “Yeah, but no one gets married to get divorced.” Ain’t that the truth. I was touched by her concern though… she spoke with her eyes and that’s important.

My coworkers breathe sighs of relief when they find I’m working with them. Even if our personalities may clash or we’re not exactly friendly, it’s known that I’m there to do my job and do it well even when I’m so miserable you can see new lines etching in my face by the second. The patients will never see it, they always comment about my perpetual smile. My coworkers know that I will still help the one who’s floundering even when I myself am buried.

The theme today seemed to be my unfailing sensitivity and dedication to people around me… under any circumstances.

My sensitivity is becoming less sickening to me every day. Yes it burdens on occasion, especially in the face of my willingness to accommodate the individual needs of everyone that steps into my life and the continuing neglect of my own. The smallest things can claw and twist my insides and cause my brain to run circles on itself weighing pros and cons until exhaustion ensues. I beg to the vacant space above my head to just once… please… let me encounter reciprocation in the beautiful way I know it can manifest. For once, I want to leap into open arms and prove to the doubting that under no circumstances would I entice one to reach for me just to have the safety net yanked out from under them. In every last one of my failed friendships and relationships, not one of those people would ever tell you I wasn’t there for them. Every.. last.. one… will tell you the story of the collapse and takes the blame. Most of them try to contact me regularly. I’ve made my share of mistakes and will continue to do so until the day I die… but I have yet to lose my grip on anyone I’ve held close… and I don’t intend to. This is my one pride. Without sensitivity, there is no true dedication. Before my time is up, I hope I’ll have earned what I am so willing to give. I’ll work every day for it. If I never find it, at least I’ll have died trying and hope that in the next life, I can continue moving toward this goal. Despite everything, the hope of this experience will die only with me, never before.


the balance March 12, 2008

Filed under: my evolution,philosophical muse — somniare @ 6:24 pm
Tags: , ,

The sun seems to be glaring at me as it bids adieu behind the trees and houses of Suburbia. It’s as if it believes my last memory of light for the day should be one of pain, spotty vision, and finally blindness… reminding me that who needs to really see anything in the darkness anyway. There is luck this time of year as the fire in the sky fades much more quickly than what I have to look forward to in the days to come. It’s the slow descent of the seemingly infinite daylight that I dread now. Contradictory to my yearning for the warmth of a summer night, I still find myself disquieted by the impending lengthening of daylit hours. Perhaps it will be good for me. There’s a chance that the will for wakefulness will return and my dread will be replaced with an urgency to embrace time once again. At this very moment, that is a level of optimism long forgotten.

I learned something about myself today.

While I’ve been so focused on everyone else’s levels of detachment, I somehow failed to notice that over the years a drastic transition in myself occurred. As most people know, I have an intense yearning to make a mark on the world, to be remembered, to have a lasting impact. There is a massive contradiction within me though. When it comes to parts of myself that can become tangible (such as manifestations of creativity, emotion, or my personal history), I only want to give what is within my power to remove.

I decline every collaboration request, every commission for an individual that I know, I no longer write letters or poetry for people, I will not create a piece of art specifically for anyone. I don’t want to take the chance of being immortalized in association with anyone any more. I don’t want people to have pictures, videos, logs of anything… I don’t want to give a single touchable piece of myself at all. It’s not to say that I won’t ever engage in such efforts for as long as I live. I never know what state I’ll be from one hour to the next, not to mention years in the future.

Over years of having my efforts rejected, not wanted, misinterpreted, or thrown back in my face… it has just proven to be unsafe to give any more than what is unavoidable. Even then, I sometimes wish I had the power to erase myself from the memories of people who have hurt me. Unfortunately, I can’t live my life or forge a connection with ANYONE under the premise of complete and utter silence though. Conversation is a necessity and it is the nature of the mind to remember it. The spoken word is just as easily recollected for the purpose of punishment or forgotten out of negligence as a handwritten letter, that being the case, I no longer see the point in setting myself up for additional strife.

If people could honestly live by the adage, “You get what you receive,” the world would be a happier place. Instead of living by it though, people just accept it’s existence and upon receiving the same nothing after a request that they had offered when prompted, will claim that they would have given the same if it were requested of them. Well, hypotheticals mean just as little as the weight of an atom in a skyscraper. The fact is that the concept of equality in giving and receiving is as vague as white matter. Each individual has a different idea of what is an “equal trade” in association. What seems like a simple request to one person may have an entirely different level of importance to the other. What seems to be a casual and harmless declining in an insignificant issue to one party may be a crushing denial of another’s needs.

Many a connection is broken in it’s early stages because of this. Sadly, what ends up happening is that the one thing that could balance the scales becomes the one thing neither person is willing to give… time. During the learning process, we get to know what matters most to people. Some take longer to know than others and there is no guarantee that there will ever be enough balance between two people to ever succeed in the “give and take”, but how can you expect a fruitful transaction when you have little to no understanding of the weight of your request to the person you are asking it of.

In my eyes, everyone and everything is a phase. Even the people that manage to prove a certain level of consistency, whether in presence alone or in their complete personality, everything is temporary. My lack of desire to leave lasting traces of myself with other people is strong but even that is a phase. It may get worse and cause me to fall into more dead years of hermit-like existence and creative hibernation… or it could get better with a little prompting and some proof that not everything is ammo for a pending attack.

I change like the days. I may linger like the sun at the horizon for ages, leaving you painfully craving the sanctity of darkness. But, I might burst through the clouds and warm your back just as the shivers of a distant storm rose the hairs on the back of your neck. There is good in me… and there is bad… and my consistency lies in the fact that you can rest assured I will always be changing. I will give what I receive, and just maybe, I’ll take the time to calculate the weight of an atom in a skyscraper… just in case it matters.