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Tuesday, October 30, 2007
My soul is so so so unsettled.Why do I do things even when I know the outcome will be shit? Why is it that even though I know the end product, I still trudge on willingly, consciously resigned, but subconsciously hoping against hope that my sheer will and selflessness might possibly change things. Am I really such a pollyenna? My insides are just wrenched and gutted, and yet I have to think and make a decision on which fierce gale from which of the 4 directions I want to turn to face. Too many weighty decisions, too many repercussions, I can't think; I can't choose.Why do I choose to be such a matyr? Am I trying to make a point? But to whom Daphne, to whom? Empowerment, Peter says, Life is about empowerment, of yourself, and the others around you. But what if I don't want to be empowered? What if I don't want to have the power to make those decisions I fear might haunt me? What if I know what I should do and what I want to do, but they're both at odds. How can I empower myself with what I want when at the end of the day, what I want is determined by another human being's choice?This is all too much for me to handle right now. Why is all of this thrown at me right now? When I have to make possibly the first huge decision of my life. Why does the right person have to come along but at such a shit time? I don't believe there are a few right people, no. I believe in the right person, and he's standing right in front of me, behind a layer of barbed wire. What do I do? Stand at a distance and watch, or reach out and get torn to shreds? Either way I end up ripped. Why have I adopted my dad's big heart, my mum's care for people, and both their selflessness? Why do I consciously place myself in such a position of vulnerability, knowing full well my efforts will change nothing. Do I hope to effect some sort of internal change? Maybe.I think, when I want something, I don't go for it forcefully and bash my way through the thick foliage with a machete, cutting down whatever's in my way. Instead, I demonstrate my urge, and rely on the milk of human goodness to fulfill my desire. That's the karma I subscribe to; that if you are good and patient, life will provide. Doesn't really work in the real world, does it? It works ideally in a world where everything is beautiful and perfect, but our world is not. It's ugly and vile, and will eat you up the minute you don't watch your own back. But how can I change my nature?I think, in the crazy tedious world, when you come home, you retract to what's closest to heart, because you want to shut out the ugliness and bury yourself in daffodils and sunshine. But when what's closest to heart is not pretty like you'd hope it to be, you pretend it is, hoping that by ignoring the problem all will be fine. Until the rug gets pulled out from under you. But what else can I do? What else can I do? I can't rip off the bandaid, I don't know why, but I can't. I have contemplated it passingly, but I just can't. Silly as it sounds, but when you look at it objectively, the answer is rather clear and simple, isn't it? Just do the fucking thing already Daph. But it's more than that, there's more subtext underlying the surface. I think, at the end of the day, I'm just scared that I won't find something that's as good as this. I think that's my underlying fear. But why now? Why fucking now? When I have my fucking career path to think about and where I wanna start up and my familial obligations, why throw some fucking Cupid's arrow my way? After 23years of misses, why a fucking hit at this particular crucial point in my life? It's a fucking joke.And yet sometimes there are so many signs that tell me I'm doing the right thing, yet how can I be? When he's upping and leaving in less than 3months and telling me blatantly he doesn't want me in the picture? Countless people have told me I deserve better, I know I do, yet do you see any better in the horizon? I don't. You get what you give, I believe. And I guess that by giving such as I am, I'm hoping that there'll be reciprocation somehow.At the particular point right now, at 11.50am on a Tuesday morning, my head is so troubled. My heart is being wrenched in two separate directions. My soul is in doubt and disparate, aching for inspiration. My scholar's mind is being crushed in a vice. And my roots are unsure and uncertain, reaching out longingly in all directions, aching to call someplace a possible home.And until I finish this final 3000word essay, sort out my heart and what's right, land a role that inspires me, get a day job, secure a firm footing in the theatre industry and get some contacts, decide what I want to do with my life and career and where I want to be in the next 2years, until I get all this sorted out, my head and heart will remain all tangled and knotted. Ack.
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