Friday, April 25, 2014

This Is Hell (3)

How many "I fucking hate my life"s / day is too many?

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From Cioran's Pe culmile disperării (not my emphasis #librarybooks): 


Because thinking / knowing that others have it way, way worse never helps.

(Reading Cioran, especially at this age, always feels a bit embarrassing. I mean, I'd be embarrassed to quote from his writing in a more formal text. I might be wrong, but I get the feeling Romanian intellectuals view his writing as teenage-y. At the same time: American writers I admire read and quote from Cioran and there's no shame about it. În fine / whatevs.)

Thursday, April 24, 2014

This Is Hell (2)

Mistakes repeated for the nth time:

Assuming things can't get worse. They can and they will.

Assuming you can count on some people. For some things at least. You can't.

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What to do when home doesn't feel like HOME anymore? When you have no second "home", when you have nowhere else / no one to go to.

(Wishing I could afford a hotel for at least one night. I could really use two days in Cluj. Away from all this.)

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From Søren Kierkegaard's Repetition (via Berfrois on FB):
Where am I? What does it mean to say: the world? What is the meaning of that word? Who tricked me into this whole thing and leaves me standing here? Who am I? How did I get into the world? Why was I not asked about it, why was I not informed of the rules and regulations but just thrust into the ranks as if I had been bought from a peddling shanghaier of human beings? How did I get involved in this big enterprise called actuality? Why should I be involved? Isn’t it a matter of choice? And if I am compelled to be involved, where is the manager? I have something to say about this. Is there no manager? To whom shall I make my complaint?

Sunday, April 20, 2014

This Is Hell

In German, "il fait jour" is "es ist hell". Hell, indeed.

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In Gilmore Girls (season 2, episode 5: "Nick & Nora/Sid & Nancy"), as Jess gets out of Luke's diner on his first day in Stars Hollow - a bright, sunny day, with kids playing around - Elvis Costello's This Is Hell starts playing:




This is hell
This is hell
I am sorry to tell you
It never gets better or worse
But you will get used to it after a spell
Cause Heaven is Hell in reverse


Getting used to it is the worst thing that can happen. That does happen.


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I'm in such a toxic milieu and of course I have no idea how to get out of it. The obvious options aren't really options. The usual palate cleansers (movies, books, music) aren't enough anymore. They will never be enough.

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In German, "hell" means "light." I find that fascinating. LIGHT is always presented as an aspiration, as a positive to the negative represented by DARKNESS. But I think it's essential to make a distinction here. There's the soft, warm kind of light that is all about enlightenment - peace of mind, wisdom, love and all that hippie stuff. The kind of light you want / need to be in. And then there's the hard, crude light that is blinding and suffocating. That doesn't allow for a clear vision. That makes you want to crawl back into the shadows.

I wanna crawl back into the shadows. I wanna stay up all night and sleep all day. I crave it so much, it's ridiculous.

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More proof that I'm a teenager:

The soundtrack to the Dirty Girls video is Liz Phair's Batmobile. (I don't think I've listened to Liz Phair before.)  I find those teenage-y lyrics so relatable. (At least I've decided to stop being embarrassed about feeling like a teenager. Adulthood - as it is understood by the masses - is so overrated. Just an accumulation of properties and experiences dictated by society. I know, I know, I'm oversimplifying things, but that's the level my mind is at and I can't form a deeper / more articulate / academic opinion.)



Fire up the Batmobile
Cause I gotta get out of here.
I don't speak the language.
And you gave me no real choice
You gave me no real choice
You made me see that my behavior was an opinion.

So fire up the Batmobile
Cause I gotta get out of here.
It's the mouth of the gift horse I know
But I gave it my best shot
I gave it my best shot
I gave you the performance of a lifetime.

So I hope you all will see
There just isn't a place here for me.
I look around and feel
Like somebody must be fucking with me.
I just can't take any of you seriously
And I can't keep keeping myself company.

Fire up the batmobile
Cause I gotta get out of here.
Big shoulders block the view
You can't get your money back
You can't get your money back
You can't pretend that isolation is the same as privilege

So I hope you all will see
There just isn't a place here for me.
I look around and feel
Like somebody must be fucking with me.
I just can't take any of you seriously
And I can't keep keeping myself company.

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Even more proof that I'm a teenager:


Hanging out with people you like and who like you back. That must be nice. I wanna be cool and be able to say: "it was good while it lasted" and just let it go. But the truth is: I can hold a grudge like a Japanese ghost. There are only so many rejections I can take from people who at one point in time claimed to be my friends. Yes, most of the time I prefer being alone, in my room, watching tv series / movies. But when I do wanna get out, once in a blue moon, it would be nice to have sm to hang out with. I know it's not fair to expect sm to be available whenever I decide I can handle a few hours in public. I know that. And yet.

My mind circles around the same thoughts over and over again and it's tiring and pathetic. However, I'm pretty sure it's less tiring and pathetic than it would be to pretend I'm something I'm not, all in a fruitless attempt to make ppl like me.
I haven't got an ounce of charisma and unless they're selling that at the supermarket for the low price of 1.99, there's nothing I can do about that. According to any number of random studies, people don't want to be around people like me: moody, bitchy, negative. But here's the thing: being positive is not and will never be my thing. I don't even want it to be my thing. What confuses me is how come positive people find negative people annoying and yet the thought that the opposite is valid never crosses their mind. Yep, that's right. Positive ppl are annoying as fuck. Landing somewhere in the middle would be the ideal. Unfortunately, I do not see that anywhere in my near future.

And gosh, there are ppl whose status in relation to myself might have not been "friends" but it has definitely been somewhere around "friendly" and whom I now avoid because I cannot stand them anymore. Um, okay. Let me rephrase that in a more... friendly way: our interests and opinions have come differ too much, which makes each interaction / encounter feel like a confrontation (mostly b/c of me and my big mouth; I just can't shut up about feminism - especially when I know the person I'm talking to is an anti-feminist). Therefore: it is not fair to get upset when sm is avoiding me. I know that's not fair. So why do I always end up feeling like the guy from Film pentru prieteni? Gosh, I so do not wanna be the guy from Film pentru prieteni.

Speaking of Film pentru prieteni: growing up, there's another obstacle in finding people to hang out with (and I'm talking about "hanging out" because I realize "friendship" is asking too much). Status. When sm is above you - socially / intellectually / emotionally - hanging out with them more than a few times - i.e. till they get bored of you - is just not gonna happen. And you can't blame them, and there's no getting to their level because you've missed too much, because you've been raised by emotional illiterates and it's too late, you're too slow and you'll never ever catch up.

Maybe being left behind wouldn't feel so awful if it weren't for the fact that the people I happen to be around are holding me back. I'm not learning anything, I do not have enough time / energy to pursue my own interests and I have never felt more estranged from myself. My trips to Cluj, being surrounded by culture even for just a few hours - that's what is keeping me somewhat sane. For now.


From Clockwatchers:

Margaret: Do you ever feel like you're floating? Like you're not connected to anything or anybody?
Iris Chapman: Yeah, sometimes.
Margaret: I feel like I could vanish and no one would even notice. Not for weeks.
I've been feeling like I exist outside the world for too long. Actually, I can't even remember a time, a moment when I didn't feel this way. On the outside. Waiting. Watching.

Also from Clockwatchers:

Iris: Everything is temporary. Everything begins and ends and begins again. When I look ahead, I imagine infinite possible futures repeated like countless photocopies, a thousand blank pages, and in each one I see myself, never hiding, never sitting silently, and never just waiting and waiting and watching the world go by.

Clockwatchers

"We're all in this together." Is this just one big lie people tell each other? Or is it a truth that only a few lucky ones get to discover / experience?

As I'm rambling here, others - whom I might count among the ones who've left me behind - are probably feeling the same. Not about me. But still. They're feeling the same and I have no idea what to say to them. Because what can you say? "Hang in there!" and other platitudes like that? Geez!


From Synecdoche, New York: 

And the truth is I feel so angry. And the truth is I feel so fucking sad. And the truth is I've felt so fucking hurt for so fucking long, and for just as long I've been pretending I'm ok just to get along, just for... I don't know why. Maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own. Well, fuck everybody.

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Listening to songs from his new album. But will I be able to enjoy them? Will I be able to let myself get excited about this new album? How can I tell if I like his new music when there's still this DOUBT lingering on? Just looking at his face hurts. It hurts to think that this honest, pure face might not be that honest and pure. And if all of that is just one big lie, it hurts to think of his sadness and his own hurt.

At the end of last year, I was looking for an image that would capture the idea of an end. The end of 2013. The end of yet another miserable year. I somehow got to Cocteau's Le Testament d'Orphée. Its end: a sharp knife, a bubble burst, and "fin" written in chalk. Chalk. So easy to erase. So easy to write in something new. Something better. Oh, but what a silly, naïve girl I am. I couldn't have predicted it at the time, but that burst bubble came to symbolize my own bubble being burst. The day I entered was forced to enter the REAL world/life (whatever the fuck that means) was also the day I first read about the rape accusations brought against Conor. Any illusions I might have had - about intellectual/spiritual growth, about incubation time, etc. etc. - GONE. And my go-to in times of utter despondency, the image I had of him - DESTROYED. All in one day. One long, depressing day.

Wait. What? From Lonely at the Top: "Laying in your bed / My dreams are sex and violence / I chase the rapist chasing after you." What the fuck? Now I've got a million questions. Actually, just one: was this written before or after?

(I'm not even sure if I like his new music... Common Knowledge, yes. But the rest... I just don't know. Time Forgot, too.)

"I'm gonna work for my sanity, give it everything I've got." Will I ever be capable of doing the work? The only type of work that matters.


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The only possible conclusion to this word-vomit: