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I'm not okay with no motivation. I can't work in the 'artistic' headspace any more. I need motivation. There is some, I'm sure, stored somewhere in a box clearly marked 'get off your arse' but I seem to have lost the key to that box and I can't get into it. Staring at it isn't getting anything done. AGH... Time to go... to try and not make the same pattern of mistakes. Tron |
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I click the dial on the washing machine to synthetics. Its a shorter cycle, save the planet. I feel synthetic myself tonight. I feel thoroughly unmotivated. I see posts on here about new things, and here, at the end of semester, I'm finishing something when other people are starting. Its startlingly incongruous. I'd like to feel like I were headed somewhere. Like I were motivated toward a goal. But I'm not. And surprisingly, despite this empty feeling and a longing to 'get up and go somewhere every day' I'm not too worried by the whole experience. On the whole, I find demotivation the usual place to be when the air turns cold. Something else opens up inside my head and creative wheels start to turn. I'm like a deciduous tree to look at, stark, gaunt, completely still... not doing anything and surrounded by the rotting decay of my own leaves. But inside, I'm not dead. I'm just sleeping, and thinking. I could be like this forever. I could be content with this... if only I could quell that desire to get up and go somewhere every day. I wish there was a vaccination that could prevent this sometimes. I wish there were some kind of 'dilligence' drug that made you want to do things (I think there might be one, I think its called 'speed')... But then again, is it better to be in this natural state of stagnance, to take stock of all that is not happening? I have no answers. |
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Why is it that a person can feel completely fine until they walk into a therapist's office. I challenge you to find me someone who won't consider themselves a little mad after subjection to the intensity associated with the medicinal confessional that is my therapists offices... Today I felt fine, balanced. Unmotivated, definitely but still, fine enough in my life. But step into that office, and I am again disintegrated into the ball of raw sinew and fuckery that I have come to associate with these sessions. I left early. I hated myself for the lack of commitment. I am successfully conditioned to deteriorate in small rooms with high ceilings and yellow walls... my god-- the walls in my house are ALL YELLOW... (not my choice). So here I am feeling totally shit about the whole experience, and assured by the many voices of judgement within me that not one soul will give a shit. Good on you if you do. Its a wonderful place inside my head. I think I'll go to sleep. night world. Tron |
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I am free. Free in my own mind. Whirling, swirling, twirling in happiness. Light as air, too far from the ground with relief. Soon, all this shall be over. I am returning to my first love: The english language. I don't mean to discriminate and exclude the many other beautiful languages out there, this is, simply, the only language that I have... I am returning HOME, to myself. I am changing paths, a little, again to become more myself. My life is a stone and I am carving myself out of it pebble by pebble. I am closer to my dream. I have accepted fate. I like it. I love it... I have gained all I need here, and am ready to move on. I made this decision today, and it made the world make sense. I am becoming again, what I always was deep down. THANK FUCK! Perhaps, just maybe, (the bald man had no hair), this therapy caper is working. I can see the self satisfaction seeping out of my therapist when I make progress, but I refuse to get into that... not now. I can't corrode this. |
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When did dressing like a slut get glamorous? There's a few questions on my mind that I'd like the general public, or society as a whole to answer for me. This is the first of them. If you put on something skimpy from an op-shop or something that's hand me down no matter how good condition its in, you're trashy. If you buy the same kind of thing new, and cover it in diamonties than your classy? Well maybe its not that simple. You do have to slick your hair down and make sure you're clean, and there's a certain implied elegance in 'class' but essentially, you're either all hanging out there, or 'creating the illusion' of all hanging out there, and realistically isn't that one of the trashiest things you can do? Firstly, that last sentence was far too long. Secondly, its wrong to judge, out loud. People don't like to feel like they're being judged, but we all do it. We rely on the external appearances of others to make those split second judgements about how much value they might be to us. We are, after all, social capitalists. We all are, regardless of your economic viewpoint. But this is beyond my original point. My point was about class, and the seeming lack of it when all your body parts are on display. I sometimes think that animals have it much easier when it comes to appearance, but whatever, that's another post. So back to class. I guess its all about the presentation of a message. See, to me, looking beautiful without the perfect body, without the mint of money, that's something. Its easy to 'scrub up nice' if you never get dirty. For me, I like those hard won battles. And I don't like diamonties. There's something a little bit trivial about overtly worshipping those 'shiny things'. I guess what I'm trying to say amongst this very tired prattle, is that its the messages that are hard won that count. Its the person who took the effort to say what they wanted without compromising that impresses me. Anything can live up to this high ideal of mine: art, music, dance, drama, literature, conversation... taking the time to get the message out there without using cheap tricks will always seem more classy, elegant, sophisticated to me than all the diamonties, or even diamonds real or metaphorical you can dish up... Tron |
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Every time I sit down to write something here I come up against a wall. It is made of reasons not to write, reasons to just walk away from this... the foundation is a loyalty to paper, and a fear of readers. Its a judgement avoidance. It is cemented to the next layer by a conviction that I have nothing to say. The next layer is the certainty that the whole exercise is futile... wasteful of so many things... time, energy, thoughts, little pieces of myself so optimistically cast into the world and lost in the swamp of other people's needs... need to be recognised, need to be loved. the wall builds itself up higher and higher with layers of failed attempts... and is decorated by my own self scorn and my distaste for the process. The wall protects me from you all... and traps me within myself. there is so much to say. and no reason at all to say it to anyone. I am utterly convinced that no one is listening. I am utterly convinced that the exercise of opening up to others does little more than push them away further from me in the times when I need them the most. I am tired of listening. I am tired of not listening. I am afraid of not hearing I am terrified of not being heard. There came a point when, without the structured inescapable environments to pressured people closer and closer through their shared captivity, I realised that I had lost the capacity to connect in meaningful ways to those around me. I am ready again to trust someone, completely, but how do I find that someone? How do I reach out and find someone who would not see me as a burden? I need that person with the right mix of empathy and understanding, interest and forgiveness, similar experiences, and self resolve... the right person... someone to be very close to and share with. I am ready for a new friendship. I am ready to nourish and be nourished... but I am behind so many walls. How do you reach out to people? This seems like a first step. |
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paper is working well for me. begun therapy. don't worry if you don't hear too much, i'm just very busy, very tired, and paper works better. tron |
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So I've had a pretty shit run of late. There's been some huge fucking nightmare at the school I was working at for practicum (first prac out mind you) where I was handed from teacher to teacher and in the end without following proper procedure they tried to fail me. The school... well I'm just not happy. Yet we live and we learn. I had such a miserable time this prac that I can't imagine myself doing this job anymore. Everyone around me is either sick of hearing me whine or they think that its better for me not to talk about it. Either way I feel like arse. It strikes me that my entire personality might be wrong for this profession. Its not the teaching kids I can't handle, its the colleagues. I'm sure there are nicer teachers out there, but really, if there are more like this, I certainly don't want to run into them. To compound things, my holiday to Melbourne is off. Kaput. And this is final. There was no way *** could get the time off work, so we can't go. And frankly, we really need some time to ourselves asap. We've barely seen each other for two weeks or more. Our schedules keep us apart. I know I'm pretty much a wreck, and I'm sure he's pretty rooted too when it comes to mental fatigue. Time away just the two of us would be really nice. So apparently, there will be another holiday in a couple of months. And right now I just see that as another opportunity for disappointment. I'm feeling pretty negative. So at the moment, I've got to finish assignments, while living in limbo because someone decided I'm not good enough. I refuse to accept that. I cannot concede that I was so terrible that I might deserve to fail!!! I'm just fucking sick of everything at the moment. No Holiday, no certainty about my degree. I feel like I may as well pack it all in now. I can't see my personality changing and I'm not a people person. I'm not mentally drawn/ interest drawn to the jobs/professions that allow you to work without other people around me. I just want to go and do something else, and soon. Fuck it all. Tron |