I can feel your beat
Enough has been ruined for me. I know that I deliberately destroy what i have for the beauty of tragedy. I lust the role of the tragic heroine, some sort of Iphigenic character to fulfil my attaction to the hapless one, bound up on the masts of circumstance.
Huh. Charming.
Well, time to start making some movement.
Get out of my head, and into my car.
I want this.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
I'm spent.
"If your glass heart should crack and for a second you turn back...Oh no, be strong"
So Seth comes over to collect donuts from seattle and to chat. The grieving isn't over for me yet, date-line is set for the 18th. But I know that the cracks are deep and wouldn't be completely covered for a while. Thank God for the reprieves. But having Seth over for the awkwardly shy, yet gentle contact was a step to healing. I think. I admit, it was like picking at the scab: feels good, yet hurts like a bitch after, might leave darker scars.
I feel turned over, moving on, different level, different plane, different timezone. What I want and what we were and what I used to be are shifting out of focus and I'm just going to have to keep moving.
There is only so much I can take, so I should stop taking more.
God this hurts. But not in the way I was expecting. Which is a good thing.
"If your glass heart should crack and for a second you turn back...Oh no, be strong"
So Seth comes over to collect donuts from seattle and to chat. The grieving isn't over for me yet, date-line is set for the 18th. But I know that the cracks are deep and wouldn't be completely covered for a while. Thank God for the reprieves. But having Seth over for the awkwardly shy, yet gentle contact was a step to healing. I think. I admit, it was like picking at the scab: feels good, yet hurts like a bitch after, might leave darker scars.
I feel turned over, moving on, different level, different plane, different timezone. What I want and what we were and what I used to be are shifting out of focus and I'm just going to have to keep moving.
There is only so much I can take, so I should stop taking more.
God this hurts. But not in the way I was expecting. Which is a good thing.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Monday, February 14, 2005
2005-02-09_0011
So it's valentines and Love is in the air. I skipped church today and walked with Elim along Jerico (I know there's an 'H' somewhere) beach for 2 hours in the late afternoon. Life cannot get any better.Then Paul comes over for Marvel Vs. Capcom and Cranium. Poker-face doing river dance. Now that is what I call in house entertainment.
Stepping back from the moment, I can see how I've totally screwed things up with my meddling hands. I'm learning the basics, once again, of letting go and letting God take it all. Something that I've always found so intrinsic to the Christian faith, and yet humanly impossible to do.
Now, don't get lost in your head.
Dear Lord, give me more love. Overflowing. Out.
I'll be in Seattle folks. Have fun...
Urrrmmmpppp!
Ok. Life really does get harder then anticipated, even if you're walking on air. I struggle with being aware of how I'm feeling, why I'm feeling this way, how I react, and how I want to react. And at the end of the friggin day (read 5 in the a.m.), I find that I am hopelessly not enough to lead a fulfilled life in all that I am. I naturally gravitate into the blackholes of sulkiness and blahness and dearie-me-I-am-all-depressed-and-tragic. Even Glen notes that I cannot descibe my emotional state of being, which is usually less then 7/10, apart from my relationship with Seth. Whatever that is.
And then the story goes round my head and the text is impossible to read. It's like being in the Never-Ending Story and trying to read it, simultaniously, with a cuppa coffee in the Starbucks at Tampines Mall. Then the rethoric goes something like "ahhh... but the story isn't meant to be read charted... it's meant to be lived."
Horkay, very good. So then now what does that mean? What does that mean? What does that mean? And over bus-rides and Nav meetings I try to figure out how to pen the process of not penning the story. And as I watch one rodent in my life, another one slips past and hits the cheese. Oops. How did I get here again? Thank God for constantly pulling me out of the black holes. Ok, now back to rat-watching... ttyl, creator.
Flip out. I need to worship.
My last resort to being a perfectly regeneratingly flawed Human being.
Suits me just fine.
Thank you sir.
shhh. yourself.
Ok. Life really does get harder then anticipated, even if you're walking on air. I struggle with being aware of how I'm feeling, why I'm feeling this way, how I react, and how I want to react. And at the end of the friggin day (read 5 in the a.m.), I find that I am hopelessly not enough to lead a fulfilled life in all that I am. I naturally gravitate into the blackholes of sulkiness and blahness and dearie-me-I-am-all-depressed-and-tragic. Even Glen notes that I cannot descibe my emotional state of being, which is usually less then 7/10, apart from my relationship with Seth. Whatever that is.
And then the story goes round my head and the text is impossible to read. It's like being in the Never-Ending Story and trying to read it, simultaniously, with a cuppa coffee in the Starbucks at Tampines Mall. Then the rethoric goes something like "ahhh... but the story isn't meant to be read charted... it's meant to be lived."
Horkay, very good. So then now what does that mean? What does that mean? What does that mean? And over bus-rides and Nav meetings I try to figure out how to pen the process of not penning the story. And as I watch one rodent in my life, another one slips past and hits the cheese. Oops. How did I get here again? Thank God for constantly pulling me out of the black holes. Ok, now back to rat-watching... ttyl, creator.
Flip out. I need to worship.
My last resort to being a perfectly regeneratingly flawed Human being.
Suits me just fine.
Thank you sir.
shhh. yourself.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
It's true that we can't live on good intentions. Dialogue and communication, expression and understanding and drastically understated. I hate how we're unable to see past the monolithic constructions we've happily projection on others. No fault on our part I think, that's just how we function, -very within-.
So things happen, tempers flare, opinions are wrong...
I do sound like a pretentious honors student. ok, enough of that.
It hurt very much and I cried.
But that's ok.
Really, what else was I expecting?
Fuck all that.
Just shut up Hannah, and keep running.
