August 14th, 2006
I've had certain people in my life comment on how they were old souls and I was a young soul. And they try to tell me that that can be a good thing because young souls have enthusiasm and energy for life, but really I know that people have a connotation of old soul as wiser and young soul as --- well, not so wise.
But really, how many times have we seen young people who think they are wiser than older people. If you are not so wise, it is easy for you to think you know more than you actually do and so you may think you know enough to be considered an old soul, whereas perhaps a true old soul knows he's foolish, doesn't take things as seriously and therefore comes across as young.
as an afterthought - how is it that some people, even my own boyfriends think i am a young soul, whereas others think i am an old soul?
silly people who think they know enough to know what it really means to be old or young
maybe i'm a transcendental soul = one that appears young but is actually old, or one who lived through it all to become the child again
on a different thought.. why do I always find maintaining friendships to be too much for me? what kind of freakishness is that.. it only makes me lonely when i have the example of others with longtime deep friendships, especially of the opposite sex.. and don't those kinds get hazy and confusing in the Harry Met Sally Way.. especially if you've at one point in your life been romantic with them? how easy is it then to maintain an email, long distance, letter, phone call conversation with them that can often be romanticized, idealized and turned into a sort of fantasy sanctuary or image of future bliss to keep you going or escaping when your own very real relationship is needing the kind of care a gardener gives his flowers
oh in the dark dreaming raging screaming. what to do with this little heart. it wants to jump out of my chest and escape somewhere but it's reckless at a time like this and wants to listen to the heart of nothingness conceived by Kim - a place without lies and pain wrapped in pretty packages. There are times when I so intensely understand Kim... and Sinclair. Some hearts aren't made for this world. Truly.
My heart has grown large and wide.. letting the whole colossal craziness of life and death flood so that it pushes against my chest like a caged beast, one hand rising up to strangle the breath out of me in one neverending gasp.
Nobody ever gets to know nobody! We are all of us sentenced to solitary confinement inside our own skins, for life.
We have to distrust each other. It is our only defense against betrayal.
It is almost as if you were frantically constructing another world while the world that you live in dissolves beneath your feet, and that your survival depends on completing this construction at least one second before the old habitation collapses.
May 23rd, 2006
|05:14 pm - Here is my conditionnel exercise which I did (for fun)|
based on a book that I love: Jean de Florette. I imagined what Le Papet would say if he allowed himself to believe that Jean Cadoret was his son. Please let me know of any errors or anglicismes that I made:
S'il était mon fils, je lui donnerais tous que j'ai: ma ferme, mon héritage, mon temps, mon amour... Je lui inviterais chez moi tous les soirs. Nous dinerions ensemble. Je passerais des heures à lui communiquer toute la sagesse de mes expériences. Je ne me moquerais pas de ses bizarres méthodes agricoles. Non, à la place, je lui donnerais des suggestions amicales. Les mauvaises effets de la sécheresse ne lui toucheraient pas. Et sa manque de connaissance en agriculture ne serait pas le désastre qu'il est. Je ne le laisserais jamais souffrir. Non, pas mon fils. Un homme étranger, oui, mais pas mon fils. Pour lui, je ferais tout, je ferais même plus que tout car il continuerait la ligne des Soubeyrans et il garderait pour ce nom toutes les privilèges dont mes ancêtres ont fort travailler pour acquérir. De plus je ne ricanerais pas de son côté artistique. Non, au contraire, j'en serais fier. Oui, son côté artistique, ça serait une autre raison pour respecter le nom Soubeyran. Ah s'il était mon fils... mais il ne l'est pas... Alors, qu'il crève ou ne crève pas - ça m'est égal.
April 4th, 2006
|11:55 pm - ach ich habe nicht mehr deutsch gelernt|
i've been swimming in the vast cultural waters of Jean de Florette and
Manon des Sources. I mean I have been looking up every single word and phrase that I'm not entirely sure about and writing the meanings down, having mostly accomplished that, (no easy task considering many of the words and phrases i didn't get were colloquial terms from La Provence) I then proceeded to reread ze books using my notes as a reference. Ah it's like hanging out with my old friends again. Ugolin, Jean, Papet, Pamphile und so weiser.
minuit et trois, drei nach zwolf
and so to bed
|Guilt|| What is yours? || Explain yourself |
| Culinary: ||Greek Salad
|| I call it that but I add blasphemous things like lettuce, carrots and maple syrup and leave out the tomato
|Literary: ||The many classics and other books overcrowding my bookshelf|| They seem to add so much pretension to my home when really truly I intend to read them at some point|
|Audiovisual: ||I like symmetry dammit|| i read somewhere that the truly creative people prefer asymmetry|
|Musical: ||80's music|| without its melodrama we'd all sink into a vast pit of despair|
|Celebrity: ||celebrity mags at the cash register|| i'll often catch myself staring at them like a deer caught in headlights and have to snap out of it and pick up my scattered brain cells|
Now I tag:-
January 11th, 2006
|02:00 am - rework of an old something|
Hunger for the strength
of an impassive gaze
not the calm murmer
of water in the eaves
nor a tiresome stream of gold
but a faint glimmer
of promise in the sieves
a mystery to unfold
eyes one cannot trust
filled with doubt and lust
winds in the fire?
what fans desire?
a pale moon over spires:
is a rising current
to follow and withdraw
from a radiance withheld
yet endlessly startling
She has baited you
with a stray smile
you linger as it fades
in and out
December 31st, 2005
|12:23 am - wonka pepper|
and it would get sent along and you could just take it...
December 28th, 2005
reading Calvin Und Hobbes (in German)
November 16th, 2005
Ever since I moved to a new place, my cat, Marmalade has been getting attacked by the neighborhood bully cats, Blackberry in particular. Excuse me madame, you have your blackberry in my marmalade. Poor Marm has another somewhat infected wound. I've taken to walking him around the neighborhood every night when I get home. He's just like a dog that way. No leash, he just follows me. It always baffles me how he sometimes cuts across a yard and other times will very precisely follow the path of a sidewalk even as it makes a 90 degree turn around the corner. I wonder if he does that because I do it, but then again, I don't cut across a yard and he does. Weird.
I never used to like routines, having been more of the Don Juan mindset: "routines make you vulnerable to attack and make it more likely that you will sleepwalk your way through life". However, I like this routine and it's starting to warm me up to the idea of routines in general. Not that I'd want every part of my life to be a routine, but, like a buddhist, I am starting to see the value in them. You could say that it does allow you to go to sleep, but it is the part of you that you don't always need, that busy mind that rehashes the past, frets over the future and criticizes the present. At about 11 o'clock every night my mind doesn't do any of that. It just lets in the sensations, Marmalade, orange and white, paw by paw, wet street, red leaves, dry hedges, rough tree, half moon, night breeze.
November 4th, 2005
|03:20 am - random somethings|
-Last night I dreamt that I was riding a pickup truck while lying next to a cow and a dog. Most of the time, I couldn't tell them apart. They acted the same, super affectionate and lick-crazy. I remember thinking "Aw, and people eat cows? Can't they see they're the same as dogs?" ... This might have something to do with the fact that last night I chose for my pyjama a shirt that says, "If you love animals called pets, then why do you eat animals called food?"
-I'm reading from a book that teaches you how to speed-read. Apparently, one of the keys to breaking the 900 words a minute barrier is to stop pronouncing the words in our heads and just read with our eyes. Why is that so bloody difficult for me? I can't seem to trust that my brain has taken in the words unless I hear them in my head. I mean, as I am typing this now, I am hearing my own inner voice say these words. Sometimes that is nice - when I read novels, I actually hear many different inner voices, a gruff old man voice, a sexy female voice, a whiny kid voice, a British accent voice and so on. But when I'm reading a non-fiction text to learn something, I don't need to hear a voice - so why can't I get rid of it when I want to? I bet this also applies to thinking. I wonder if some people can only think by internally saying their thoughts. Wouldn't that slow down your thinking? But maybe those people then have an easier time telling people what they are thinking, because their thoughts are already in words, rather than images or gestalt blocks.
-lost my train of thought, or maybe I didn't and it just broke through the sound barrier
-watched "Das Experiment" - about the famous Stanford University experiment. Looked it up on the web. Holy crow, that experiment created a lot of food for thought. Want to list them here another time when it is nicht so spät (not so late)
-"Die Erleuchtenung" (The Enlightenment) is beautiful. Not sure of the spelling. It leaves you with a good feeling about life, no matter where you are, what's happened to you, what's going to happen to you. Fear of losing something that you love prevents you from fully appreciating what you love. Fear of doing something wrong prevents you from fully appreciating what you are doing. It is not the act of cleaning that is important but by doing the cleaning, you wash away all past sorrows, all worries. Enlightenment is not a becoming it is a gradual elimination of everything that is separate, including our memories and past experiences that we associate with "the self". We are miserable because we believe that there is a separate self called "me" or "I". Only a separate self can judge or be judged, criticize or be criticized. "Life is like a chair that you go to sit on and somebody pulls it out from under you." :) that was a great line. Look at the artwork in the sky, so beautiful. In a moment, the wind will come and blow it all away. Life is like that. It is only sad if we try to hold on to that sky. Look up, this is the sky right now.