camomile, honey and vanilla

I feel the plain void in my heart and I am finally comfortable with it. I long for something else then love now, I see fulfilment in a different shade and it kind of set me free. I am not in love and I don't search for filling that drawer anymore. The empty box in my apartment doesn’t bother me anymore though I pass by it every morning on my way out. I am peaceful. Still my mind is more creative then before and thoughts are taking off the motorway. The people I meet at the course inspire me and I like this feeling of being “back in school”.

No more envy, anger, jealousy. I’m ok. I made the right decision.

If I kept on doing the same things, how could I have waited for different results?


2006 is the year when I finally became free.

May I subtract the induced parts?

It's perplexing and muddling knowing that a deep feeling of uneasiness can be tore apart by two new pairs of baggy pants and a black cardigan... how a sore moment of loneliness is caused only by the fact that no one is around at a certain point when you'd rather not be alone. How can we know when our uneasiness should be taken seriously? when the "bad state" within is not just a "bad mood"? Is it when it finally ends up tragically and you finally identify you HAD a "real problem"? (if you're still around). Or is it when the others are seeing you as being in a serious distress or depression and they realize they should've helped you earlier?

What is authentic and what is illusion about our emotions? How can we see the difference between the true feelings and the feelings we induce ourselves?

When is love genuine and unbiased by unbalanced emotions? When should we take it seriously? When should I say: "I love you"? How do I know when love's a "state" and not a "mood"?

How should I define the intense emotions that come up in moments of happiness? How can I communicate to the other that emotion and how complete their presence sometimes makes me feel, without making a long-term promise out of it? If it were love, it would have lasted longer and my words wouldn't have been an irresponsible lie.

Oh, all these questions always find the same unsatisfying explanation: "only you can find that answer... search within you..." or "you will know when time comes, you will know love when it will fill your heart..."

...that rather means: "I don't know, why do you ask me these questions?"... Probably they don’t know more then I do... we are all part of the same world after all. But maybe I am looking for a Jesus in disguise…

It's like the question I never got to ask Collette about the amateurish painting in the "Wee House" pub: "Why did the author insist to carefully show us the cards of one of the two characters engaged in the poker game? Did (s)he consider it important for the plot of the visual or was it just a coincidence or a desire to represent the scene in the most realistic way?"

I have to ask the "Author" and maybe not even (s)he knows why.

Enough. Goodnight!

conversation...

She had something to confess too
But you don’t have the time so
Look the other way

(Muscle Museum)

Loneliness of the long distance runner...

...it is what I feel I go through now. Emptiness. It's so empty that I don't even know what to write. I don't know where I am and I don't know where to go. I float, I'm like a bacteria. I feel tired, tired, tired, tired...

How can I know where to start when I am way far over the start? I have death in mind... experience is no fun anymore and there's only self destruction and emptiness beyond experience. Nothing else makes life my journey.

Go to sleep, dream away the (w)hole that have become your home.

and in weekend God created...

What if I start to write my own Bible? My own story of the world… and in the sixth day, God created Ioana. S(he) was playing with dirt and by mistake, a pretty human face came out, was a fat 4 kilos baby. Had no defined features and besides that pretty face nothing was yet set. That Saturday was not a working day and as funny as it seems it was the only day when God created humans. Every other creature and every other soul had their reason of existence, well set, well placed, well integrated, well defined as parts and complete as wholes. But Saturdays were fun. They were weekend days to play around when no limits were set to creativity, pleasure and the delight of art. And who would like to spoil that with reason, order, common sense or logic? Interesting creatures were born on Saturdays… but they were never finished, they were never spotlessly defined or specifically outlined, they had no precise meaning and no determined fate. That’s why they got a mind and heart, they got desire and they got hope, but most of all they got FREEDOM; freedom to act, freedom to speak, freedom to decide. And as they were born out of a heart’s work not mind, each one is loved by God, and cherished and encouraged and supported to go on, to find their paths. Every other Saturday creature is intensely beautiful. The world is now diverse, lively, spontaneous and free. No one knows why they come and where they go, what they want and mostly: why do they love? Each one of them has this obsession of finding “the one”, they are afraid of loneliness and their happiness is always defined by something they don’t have.

Probably God was afraid at one point humans would stop evolving and then they will be as ordinary as the other creatures are. So carefully each last touch is always doomed with greed, longing for love and lust. We all want, desire, fancy, wish, crave, miss, need, yearn and search and search and search… and it’s probably what makes it all more fun to watch.


Saturday creatures are lot of fun and probably God loves to laugh...

fly away with the wings I gave you...

 
...try to be closer to me and I'll save you...

confused

Memories consume
Like opening the wound
I'm picking me apart again
You all assume
I'm safe here in my room
Unless I try to start again

Clutching my cure
I tightly lock the door
I try to catch my breath again
I hurt much more
Than anytime before
I had no options left again

I don't want to be the one
The battles always choose
'Cause inside I realize
That I'm the one confused

I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean
I don't know how I got this way
I know it's not alright

So I'm breaking the habit...

I'll paint it on the walls
'Cause I'm the one at fault
I'll never fight again

And this is how it ends...

...I think.