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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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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 |