It’s the worst when we have to make decisions now based only on what will make us better later – because the suffering is immediate.
listening while writing: Florence + The Machine – The Dog Days Are Over
Right now I really need to write things down. I have three different notebooks and this blog. Somehow each option is for an ocasion.
– the diary is for: opening up completely about how I am feeling and write my dreams and sometimes read it out loud in therapy.
– the big moleskine is for: drawing what I am that day and then writing about it (“today I am a bird, a cloud”, etc.)
– the small moleskine is for annotations, vague phrases, things that could inspire me later, references about authors, books, songs, people and dates.
– the blog is for writing at work and archiving all in one place instead of lost emails in my inbox. a reference to what I’ve been through. for when I feel the need to type something and hear the keyboard noise and just the sense that I am publishing something.
listening while writing: The Rolling Stones – Ruby Tuesday
I had an awful night. It was like a constant change of channels in my dreams. Weird and scary things, like the rape scene in Game of Thrones and me scaping from that world – somehow, I was never able to.
I woke up and told myself to think about something good, to calm me down. In a nanosecond, I transported myself to the day we were in the backseat of the car kissing and the windows were down and I could feel the wind and I had this tingling sensation down my spine, mostly from our wet kisses.
I was mad with your friends that day – something inside told me that the best way to say ‘fuck them’ was to just ignore their jokes and kiss you hard. I was proud of myself for not letting stupid jokes get to me and for explaining to you, reasonably, why I didn’t like it. I wonder if you ever told them that.
I wonder a lot of things. Some are the same I did back then.
If in the future we would have the picnic at night I wanted, if there would be a day of holding hands without worries, of no phone calls, of no hurried goodbyes or i don’t want to but i have to’s, a possible reality that didn’t involve moving five thousand miles away.
listening while writing: STRFKR – Rawnald Gregory Erickson The Second
One Last Poem for Richard
by Sandra Cisneros
December 24th and we’re through again.
This time for good I know because I didn’t
throw you out — and anyway we waved.
No shoes. No angry doors.
We folded clothes and went
our separate ways.
You left behind that flannel shirt
of yours I liked but remembered to take
your toothbrush. Where are you tonight?
Richard, it’s Christmas Eve again
and old ghosts come back home.
I’m sitting by the Christmas tree
wondering where did we go wrong.
Okay, we didn’t work, and all
memories to tell you the truth aren’t good.
But sometimes there were good times.
Love was good. I loved your crooked sleep
beside me and never dreamed afraid.
There should be stars for great wars
like ours. There ought to be awards
and plenty of champagne for the survivors.
After all the years of degradations,
the several holidays of failure,
there should be something
to commemorate the pain.
Someday we’ll forget that great Brazil disaster.
Till then, Richard, I wish you well.
I wish you love affairs and plenty of hot water,
and women kinder than I treated you.
I forget the reason, but I loved you once,
Maybe in this season, drunk
and sentimental, I’m willing to admit
a part of me, crazed and kamikaze,
ripe for anarchy, loves still.
listening while posting: Marilyn Monroe – River of No Return
when you said
you were angry
to give me answers
i wonder if it crossed your mind
i lost my best friend too
or how hard it was
to go through
i don’t do anger very well
and perhaps i should
scream and yell
instead, my heart swells
maybe i am dumb
for imagining a future
we can be together
to mend and suture
i can’t wish you the best
but i’ll do exactly that
because i am all by myself
listening while writing: SILVA – Janeiro
Só a ferrugem dá à moeda seu valor autêntico. É uma espécie de paráfrase alquímica. Seu significado fundamental é o de que não há luz sem sombra, nem totalidade anímica sem imperfeição. A vida em sua plenitude não precisa ser perfeita, e sim completa. Isto supõe os “espinhos”, a aceitação dos defeitos – sem os quais não há progresso, nem ascensão.
é como se
é como se arrancassem o coração
é como se sangrasse sem parar
é como se assoprassem o dente-de-leão
é como se pisassem na flor
é como se arrancassem páginas do livro
é como se dessem um soco no estômago
é como se jogassem água fervendo nas mãos
é como se arrombassem a porta
é como se jogassem um copo na parede
é como se estourassem a bolha de sabão
é como se dessem um tapa na boca
é como se cortassem a pele com papel
é como se interrompessem a canção
é como se riscassem os discos
é como se dessem um empurrão
é como se queimassem o diário
é como se caíssem as compras da sacola
é como se não houvesse cuidado
escrevendo ao som de: Fernanda Takai – Insensatez
I think I’m done feeling sorry for myself at this point.
I’m in the new stage where I want to plunge deep into my tears and sorrow, but now to swim in it – to do something with this, instead of being passive and waiting for a turn of events.
I decided to look around and take a breath before doing anything – to relish in this connection I have with myself. And then simply do it, be held accountable with the consequences, good or bad. And look to myself again and say: it’s okay – I got you, and I always will.
It’s what I’ve been fighting for in the last 3 years of my existence, at least in a more conscious way.
Things I am able to do so far in most occasions:
– engage in frivolous talk without getting affected – a.k.a. thinking I’m faking it – (unless if it’s on a daily basis with negative people – even frivolous has its limits -, when that happens I need, with reason, to step back and be alone for a while just to save some energy and I do not feel guilty about it anymore).
– be aware of what is mine and what is someone else’s — there’s still practice/learning to be done as to how not get affected by it, though.
– be able to feel compassion for people’s difficulties, but also recognize everyone has their own path and before feeling pity, asking myself: “what are they doing to solve it?” – which is not as judgemental as I thought it was 2 years ago. I try offering advice, if feeling comfortable, whatever the answer to that question is.
– being more free to organize feelings and getting to know my truths and things I only think are truths – sometimes it is very hard to be patient with myself, but I do sense improvement. before it was like: you suck and never will be happy. nowadays it’s more like: you suck. wow, where did that come from? which part of me is saying it?
– commitment with healing: this is a hard one, in the sense that is also very personal and there are many things that can be considered healing. I can now separate the healing process from what I do to avoid it, and to do both without judgement.
Example: when I am the saddest person in the world, there are only two things I like to do: sleep and watch tv shows while browsing the internet endlessly. However important it is to do both, since I consider it fun, they are also very passive activities with a numbing sensation. so what I do is allow myself to do them for a while (time frames here are nonexistent, depending on my own will to stop) and when there’s this little voice saying: “maybe that’s enough”, I slowly try to add what I consider healing, which includes: listening to music (and by that I mean listening without doing anything else, except maybe crying), writing, drawing, coloring, cooking (or just eating something really), reading, talking to myself or with beings that appeared in therapy and I consider my friends.
– and then there’s that energy or essence inside that tells me that: it’s possible to change the future if you’re not settled with the now forever.
listening while writing: Kimya Dawson – The Competition
I often felt stupid by the little things I tried to say between the lines. Things like “please read this book” or “this show reminds me of you”. I felt stupid because I tried being direct before. And when I realized everyone has their own pace and their own awareness, the only way I could try to touch you was with something else rather than words.
Words are really powerful to those who are saying them – by how well thought they might be arranged and the emotions that often come with them. To the person listening, however, you are never quite sure. You have to wait and see what will happen. The one who’s listening might not realize at the moment that the one who’s doing the talking has to pick a point to stop, take a breath, leave it as is, no matter how many words are left unsaid.
And words unsaid are the saddest thing in the world.
listening while writing: Joni Mitchell – All I Want
why it hurts it’s because it’s beyond words or explanations. it’s because I have to deny myself from what I want right now in order to seek this gut feeling of what is most valuable to me. to this idea of what a relationship should be, without trepidations when sharing what is most important, honest and sincere – even if sometimes not pretty. that’s why I am so lost, because there’s only the vague notion of what I need and in order to find it, I must pursue a maze alone, no matter how lonely it is. and sometimes the actions are like walking backwards. it’s hard to keep reminding myself that they also have a meaning – to put me back on track. and that there is a bigger picture.
it’s confusing because there is no sense of how long the road is, where it leads, what will I find there. I picture it calm, with lilies and rabbits, I feel free when riding a car through that road, it’s sunny and windy. when I’m in it, I realize that everything I did was worth it.
listening while writing: Joni Mitchell – Help Me