For a long time I’ve been feeling an overwhelming exhaustion from… being.
It’s kind of embarrassing to talk about… considering it’s not a “real” dilemma.
On the other hand, contagion considering this “NON-BLOG” – where I try to be the least personal – has become a haven for venting, buy since it’s buried under all these frames.

Like you have to come in to a dark room with a door you usually ignore, dosage then crawl under the covers to read it.
That’s how I like to imagine it, anyway.

Well, this exhaustion… I like to set nearly impossible goals for myself, most of which I keep secret, because though I suppose I cope with failure, I like to avoid it at all costs.
I think the last time I felt hopeful about life was while I was still stumbling through my MA, not really sure of what I was doing (as usual), but I thought it would lead me somewhere.
Then I graduated, and hesitated to apply to grad schools for many reasons…

So here I am, and here I’ve been for a long time… with flickers of excitement inbetween, distractions and experiences, none of which I regret… probably because there’s no point in regret, only lessons to be learned.

I’ve mentioned how work really sucks the magic out of me. I’ve been working at the same place for a year now (a year!) and it’s starting to give me an existential itch… wanting to explode.

So I have this (not so crazy idea) that I’ll be carrying out this year.
I also made a decision that I’d been wanting to make for a long time that I haven’t told a soul. (And I’m still not telling. Don’t wonder, it’s not even that interesting, but it is a chosen path of Fate.)

I kind of hate how sometimes my posts become all about my hair… but this is another decision I made that I’d only thought about in terms of “what if.”
Destroying my hair with bleach.

It doesn’t even look like the photos above anymore, I’ve lightened it one more time and the residual colors are fading.
I still feel strange when I look in the mirror and see blonde hairs on my hairbrush…

Though a purely superficial act, it’s symbolic for me… creation in destruction, a sort of death that needed to take place in order to allow rebirth. Rebirth of an imaginary state of being I only assumed in darkness, that took over me when I felt unlike myself…

So this existential discomfort is lifting with the simplest thing… something I want to do.

I’m still drawing pen sketches for Where Everything Lost is Found. I wrote a bit about it at my books blog. My deadline is May. Let’s see if I can come through.


I’ve also been finding scraps in what little is left in my old house, which is to be sold soon. (Not going to talk about that.)

I don’t like the notion that, try as we might, we really are essentially the same person. This little bit below was in a tiny notebook, I never even used it, only transformed it and recycled the rhymes. But it made me go “bleh.” I was perhaps 16 when I wrote it. Not going to use it now, either, but this is precisely the person I’m trying to un-become.

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This entry was posted on Monday, February 18th, 2013 at 11:37 pm and is filed under LITERATURE, own publications. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
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2 Comments(+Add)

1   Naelle    
February 20th, 2013 at 5:49 am

Transformation, one of the best things since Gregor Samsa.
But really, looking for power and greatness is the way to go. In someone as grand as yourself sounds like the road to epicness.
“Whatever makes you live!” *dr. frankenstein voice over*
I’m actually under the covers as I read this. 😛

2   n3cr0phelia    
February 26th, 2013 at 1:46 am

Best way to read me! Thank you, thank you. You are a voice in my conscience sometimes.

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