Month: November 2011

Be like

Be like a solid rock island in an ocean.

Be like the still depth of a lake.

Be like a solid mountain.

Remember that you are not your emotion.

Remember that you do not need to act on your emotion if it doesn’t serve your values.

Remember to cultivate compassion and tolerance [toward myself, toward the emotion]

Remember to say to yourself “it is okay, this will change”.

God knows, I’m trying. I’m trying so hard but it seems like an impossible task right at this moment. I have been trying to do different meditations now for hours but it’s just not working. I’m so unbelievably fucking hurt right now I can hardly breathe.

I do not exist

I am non-existant.

I am an echo, a relic of an afterimage.

I am the last exhale.

Question: Is using “I am” and “non-existant” in the same sentence an oxymoron?

More: Do you notice the void I left behind? Do you remember I used to exist?

.

Thus, I do not exist. Not even to myself.

And perhaps, I never did.

Who was it, then, who drifted through your soul?

 

had enough of

  • Humidity & having the aircon blasting at 1am.
  • Teenagers. Holy mother of god nothing more needs be said. Bar one gorgeous niece.
  • Brainless bogans.
  • Cooking dinner.
  • Christmas beetles (already!)
  • Going to the loo.
  • Salad *sigh*
  • Not having enough time for everything.
  • DEATH. O Death sitting at my shoulder.  Won’t you spare me over ’til another year. Better yet, spare my sister over for another year.

A psych-folk version of an old Appalachian classic:

An interesting version with throat-singing:

Oh yeah, and liars. Had enough of them. Ahuh

thinking aloud…

  • Finally made the perfect pork crackling. The secret is to cut the crackling off the pork when the roast is finished cooking, and put the crackling back into the oven to continue cooking by itself for 15 mins whilst the pork rests.
  • Watching Junior Masterchef is bad for the self esteem. Those kids put me to shame.
  • Crocheting Cthulus (as in multiple).
  • Reading Stephen King’s ‘Under the Dome’. It’s a doorstop of a book. But it’s like putting on a favourite, daggy, comfortable old sweater. A return of the ‘old’ Stephen King we know and love. A comfort read (I know, as if ‘horror’ should feel like a comfort read!)
  • One more day until I can enrol in my comparative religions class for ‘summer school’. Am I insane, getting excited? I will think so at the end of the semester I know that one thing for sure!
  • Nat still hanging on in there, ‘for grim death’ keeps popping up in my head after that phrase, with feelings of horror attached. Nobody should have to endure such a long and terrible death.

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