- I am so moving out when I can.
Realised I'm not an easy person to live with. Probably. Then again, is it my parents that are not easy people to live with? Hmm...
I'd take my sister with me. Hells for sure. At least she's a little bit saner, more practical, more sensible. Someone who actually responds to logic. Because in a house, to live alone in a house, is a very silent and quiet affair. It's like my night-times, every single hour I'm in the house. Where its still, and the parlour of the moon all surrounded by black, reminds you of yourself.
There isn't much control in my life. I don't feel that I have a lot of control. Certainly not at home, not in the way we run things. The only control I have, is what I can do about it. And some days I've chosen to just stay out of house affairs altogether. Cos anyway I don't have a voice in 'my' house. At work, there is some control. But mostly I'm going with the flow, with the tides and wishes of others, and the fickle choices of my heart. There are days I exert some control, by refusing. Refusing myself mostly.
In The Personal Life, of which there is like, almost, nada... there is nothing to control. Nothing's happening. Not a mark on the calendar, or a jot on the agenda. Just breathing through the pictures in my head, egged on by emotive music, pretending and wishing I had another reality. I live vicariously through this imagination, to avoid the empty fog of the present. But who's kidding, it's still there. Reminded thoroughly when I awake from this jelly of clouds to find myself, within the grey walls with my thoughts for company.
To be honest, I think I've arrived at the market bottom. This is the market bottom for me. It can't get any worse from here onwards. It can't get worse cos there's no more expectation of 'better'. No such ideal as hope, and wish and future possibilities. I've given up that notion. What was once a bleary haze is now pitch black. And strangely, how oddly calming it feels. How methodically and naturally I came to that conclusion. No panic, just reflexive surrender.
I can't see a future in that. And I would be incredibly stunned, if there's a miracle otherwise. But other than that, I could calmly see nothing ahead. So I let myself steep in the filmstrip, in the heady lull of suggestive music, to tell my head otherwise... for a few minutes or hours each day. I could pretend I was somebody else.
It is still a concept to me. For others, a reality. But I can look upon it with academic interest and theoretical conjecture, and plaster my own grand conclusions and clever hypothesis, and maybe it'll be as good as reality itself. Like watching movies.
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Do you know that when an artery has undergone massive trauma, such as severance, it will shrink and retract upon itself.
Some days I feel like I'm shrinking back inside myself. One cares a lot less about emotional things, or about stressful, divisive situations. One learns to roll with the emotional punches and side-step the triggers. One also trains to let go quickly, to drop at once ideas and notions too dangerous. One surrenders quickly and accepts fate instead of trying to fight it. One stops striving in belief, one forgets about self.
I may have an idea where my career is moving. But I have no idea where this life is taking me. I could forecast the future of dollars and cents, manage and dictate that A will lead to B and promise to deliver results. But I can't predict this life on a chart, on the possible scenarios and sensitivity analyses. Not with all the tools at my disposal, not even if I learn the difficult software. And so, I've given up assuming that I will meet my yields. My 'investment expectations'. I've given up thinking that I will meet them at all. Because life promises me nothing. Owes me nothing.
And you have seen, how those who have laid all their equity upon hope, upon chance. They are still waiting for their return, if it'll ever come. And you have seen, how for some, there is no return and no gain. They are as poor as they were when they begun. Maybe poorer of faith. Probably.
My life could be like this. Could be ... whatever. I don't expect that it will turn out like my dreams or my illusions. I've learnt not to expect or to feel entitled. Because its just the way it is.
It is difficult to work and think in an analytical, logical environment where everything must equate and where principles are founded upon egalitarian ideals. And then to come back to your own life and swallow the fact that none of that applies. None of your schooled, learned, training, prepares you that life is not an equation.
It's just rubbish. Sometimes.
elsa | 10:06 PM
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