Something, Anything

Fade and Out and Then

frenchmix — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 15:20:39 +0000

This year draws to an end. I’ve been waiting for something to report, but they trudge along in the same ruts, both her, and him, and I sit idly by, waiting to see what will happen. Perhaps it’s about time to give her a nudge, I think so, as she doesn’t seem able to get a grip on herself, and not on her life either. If I could only find out what she really wants! Maybe she doesn’t know, maybe she does, but is afraid to say. Well, I’ll give them this year to finish, or start over, and then hopefully this peeking into their lifes will be over and done with. I feel it’s high time to move on, to look further afield, or maybe deeper within. To change, and to be changed! I’ve been idle, and feel stale, and I can feel the flow of time quickening its pace, as if we’re on our way downhill…

A Quick Look

frenchmix — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 20:49:38 +0000

After all this time, i would’ve thought things were different. They’re no ofcourse, and that makes me wonder if this is not maybe always the case? You go away for some time, and then when you return feeling new and improved, there it is , same old, same old. Such a shame, as i really hoped for, and wanted them to be moving on. I mean she’s soo slow, and he’s soo dense, and Hello Help! will they be able to pull it off before their span is used up, for this time? Still, who am I to try to hurry them along their way? life’s life, and we all use ours up the way we see fit.

He falls asleep early more often than before. She’s swalloing, and biding her time, being too cowardly to react. He knows this, at least within, and acts accordingly. She tries to have a life within a life, as she thinks it’s easier. He seems to think this is the life, and lives it…. And so they pass the weeks, months, years. Who will be able to break this status quo? Or rather, what will it take to crack the surface, to pick the thick scab off of the wound? What will ensue once it’s all off and running. I can’t see, and I can’t guess. I will however watch, and report.

On and On

frenchmix — Fri, 07 Oct 2011 21:10:15 +0000

This post has been a long time coming. Actually, I don’t even know yet if it will survie. It’s been so very long since… and I feel all changed, and it feels strange, and I don’t know if I will be able to explain what happened. Sitting here I can at least see some of the results. They give me a feeling of maybe having left that “Stubborn Princess” behind. I didn’t know this was possible until a dear friend explained it, and then I recognized it as something that maybe had happened to me. Strange how things can slip by…

All’s not well ofcourse, but when is it, really. I don’t bite my nails, that’s true. But as I seem to gain strenght my immediate surrounding sort of fades, loses focus and presence. I don’t know if this is just something I see because of who I have become, if it was there all the time, but as I struggled with myself i didn’t see? Now however I see and I shrink back, plotting my retreat like a coward. I just don’t think I can do this as well; take charge, scold and support at the same time. Be the “bad cop”… Oh I really really don’t feel like it! Ofcourse there isn’t any getting away from the thruth, no matter how much I kick and scream… but Oh to just leave things well alone! We’ll see, I’m just not ready yet, and I don’t know if I ever will be. Supposedly we are all acting according to our own capacity, so maybe I’ve reached my limit. But I know ofcourse, lying to myself won’t get me anywhere, not anywhere i want to be that is.

This is a very messy post. Maybe I should just delete everything, and sit back and try to get a grip on what will happen next. Still, there is that thruth again; I wrote this, so it must mean something and deserves a better faith than deletion. And maybe that is the whole point of all this anguished rambling this time? To decide that deletion is never really the right answer, that it’s to quickly done once you do do it, that to un-delete isn’t really possible. Once the damage is done there is no turning back. Is this cowardly I wonder? It’s annoying that I can’t seem to know what I want, or how I want it done!

I started this post thinking I’ve grown up and left that hurt little girl behind. I actually been referring to myself as “serene” once or twice lately. God what conceit! Here I sit hacking away at the keyboard instead of getting up and do something out there in my real life. Well, I’m not more than a coward than that I can admit to being one… I have to think before I continue.

Final Countdown

frenchmix — Sun, 15 May 2011 13:10:39 +0000

Her sentence is almost up. Maybe that’s just putting a too dramatic edge on it, but yes, she’s definitely counting down. It’s been long, and tedious, and frustrating, but as the tunnel is getting somewhat lighter, so also does the tediousness dissipates, and the frustration becomes but a memory. She likes changes, and by now lives by them, but to live like that is to exchange the change for continuity, and then what’s left of the adventure? Sometimes she yearns for something completely different, but she, like most people , is still more comfortable with that which is known. Still, there will be a change of scenery, of comings and goings, of foods and of walks. A welcome change, almost a relief. Still, there’s some distance to go, the hardest really, when you see the finish-line, but can’t yet get to cross it. The tiredness, the slipping of standards, the stress of it all.

Still, just the very thought of peace, quiet, light… Combined with being cocooned in the warmth of friendship, of solitude and nature. This is surely worth waiting for, for as long as it takes. She’s still so stubborn, never saying die…

Stubborn Princess

frenchmix — Wed, 16 Mar 2011 18:46:27 +0000

I know that woman with her bag of books, poised for flight, and I don’t believe it. We’ve grown up together, and I remember her in quite a diiferent light. Silent and stubborn to a fault, never giving up on the things she really wanted. ofcourse she had that problem with her selfesteem being erode by bullying, and by upbringing too, but I’ve heard the stories about the little girl, who like a picky princess bestowed goodnight-kisses to those she considered having earned them… The little girl who would not go to sleep until she’d been caressed and petted enough each night. The little girl who sat with the dog, on the rug, behind the hall-curtain watching TV behind everybody’s back, instead of being asleep in her bed. I just don’t see her getting up to leave. Granted, there is a time for everything, and maybe this is it, but knowing her so intimately I still hesitate. Granted she is the sly stalker kind of person, and may very well just get enough when nobody expects it, but she’s also proud in a strange way (maybe the wrong one) and wouldn’t want to admit herself defeated. because a defeat it would surely be to her. Not being able to fix things is something she has a hard time accepting that’s for sure, and so much more so if she’s part of that what’s broken.

So I’ll just keep an eye on her, and report back when the next step occurs. Because ofcourse there will be one, how could it not?

The Comeback Again

frenchmix — Mon, 14 Mar 2011 21:04:50 +0000

Once more I find myself behind with the recording of my thoughts. My life is at a stage where I don’t seem to be able to catch up. It’s not the first time, but each time I’m getting more fed up with it. Fed up with the fact that I know better, and still, I carry on until I’m past the limit. I see the signs, but just out of the corner of my eye, and ignore what I see. Stupid, I know, but that’s me I suppose. Well, the worst is past now, and I do feel better. Just some more days and I’ll be free. Free to catch up, to catch my breath, to be somewhat in command of my own days. Peaking at what I’ve written I can see a pattern where I cast myself in the role of “witless woman without a will”. That is not the case at all, but I did feel that I was losing my way with all the running, and in the end I made myself ill. Maybe that is the way our bodies tries to save our minds, or is it the other way round? Suffice it to say that I was down, and now I’m up.

The rage gets the better of him more and more often. He starts slowly, and builds up steam by repeating, and repeating that which is the current topic of disgust, despite, well, anger. The whole evening will pass thus, until, finally exhausted he will sleep. She stopped some time ago to either argue or egg on. Her opinion is never the right one anyway. She’s biding her time. On a small scale by each evening. When all is quiet she gets out her book, and just disappears. On a larger one maybe she will pack all the books in a bag, when all is quiet. Gently disappearing.

Dull River

frenchmix — Sat, 26 Feb 2011 13:54:52 +0000

I look at them, and sometimes I wonder how it will all end. It seems time isn’t really a guarantee that all’s well, and will end that way too. I think he despises her. Not in so many words perhaps, but in many words, so many, many words. Small, even tiny, little daily pinpricks of despite. Why she doesn’t bite back more often God only knows. I would! But I think maybe all these small hurts are slowly bleeding her dry. Anemia of the soul maybe is what she suffers from. I root for her, but can also see that it isn’t that simple. Not from her point of view anyway. And she’s so so tired of it all sometimes, and then another week, month go by without any sign of change. It alls flows into one long dull river. Maybe she’s hoping for that instance when the river will reach the sea. When all will be diluted, less painful, less personal. I think she’s deluding herself, but it’s hard to tell people what to do. Even when I know her as intimately as I know myself. I’ll bide my time and hope to be there just before the necessity arrives to say, ” I told you so, didn’t I?”

Memories

frenchmix — Wed, 16 Feb 2011 17:55:34 +0000

She was five, maybe six years old, and she knew that it was a bad thing to be greedy. Still she wanted that lipstick so badly! The big girl was nice, and the lipstick was old anyway, so she finally got it. What pure joy!

That feeling is still there everytime somebody gives her something. I wonder, is there something more to this joy of receiving? Is this another way of being “seen”, fulfilled, getting proof not only of existing, but also of being loved? And if so, is it the same underlying search for love and acknowledgement that makes giving the same pleasure? That by giving she will be loved for being “nice”?

The lipsticks nowadays don’t smell like they did 45 years ago. Pity…

Tunnel Ending?

frenchmix — Thu, 10 Feb 2011 20:43:45 +0000

I know. I wanted to write about the Rage… But as the light comes back into my life I can’t seem to remember what was really eating me. Good, I say. It seems the lighter frame of mind is coming back, so why hang on to the negative thoughts of Winter? Yes of course, so many things are still not resolved, are still hurting me. But with Spring in the air even though it’s still just late winter I can’t be bothered. I’ve decided to skip my grievancies as I’m pretty sure they’re not gone for forever. I have a blackbird singing otside my window every morning and evening… life isn’t really that bad!

I can say this with a light heart even though I’m due for yet another surgery. Well this isn’t a “big” one, just a small adjustment of some cartilage gone askew below my right eye. My surgeon knows by now how I fear the local anesthesia so I’ll be put under, just a tad. Thank you! This means I don’t have to worry between now and April 1. That’ll be our wedding-anniversary…which one I can’t remember, so I suppose it’s not that big a deal. What’s a really big deal is me not getting a grip! I can’t seem to stop indulging myself. Eating and drinking as if there’s no tomorrow. And biting my nails to booth… Yes of course I’m not happy! Thing is, I’m not really that sad either, so I can’t seem to resolve this problem. I keep hoping for Spring. But spring in it self isn’treally a solution or a saviour. As usual I have to go it alone…. I’m sick and tired of it, and wonder why I had that vivid dream of my loved one leaving me? Correction; he didn’t only leave me, he left his whole life, down to the wallet and the driver’s license… It was weird, and I woke up trying to cry… Hopefully this dream’ll continue tonight. I want to know what happens next!

Hello…are you there?

frenchmix — Mon, 10 Jan 2011 21:16:29 +0000

Sometimes I wish that more persons would read my page, i. e, that I’d get some more feed-back. Having written that I wonder, why? I mean, I thought I wrote this just for me, and for my writing. Not to get anything in return? Still, when I sit here with my computer at a really bad angle, getting a severe crick in my neck and my waist (!), it seems to be interesting to know that somebody out there is actually acknowledging my existense. But, sometimes I tag-surf, and I do realize that we’re so many out there doing just what I’m doing right now; looking for some kind of acknowledgment, some feed-back on the fact that we’re here, saying something that we hope others will agree with, or at least have an opinion about. And now having written just this I feel that it’s not really that important after all. I can go it alone, and still know that what I write concerns mostly me; I d this mostly just for the doing, and even though I’d might want an audience from time to time, I can see that the advice of Muriel Sparks about not writing for an audience is a good one. I mean, the way I’ve been sucking up most of my life would be disastrous to any kind of writing. Think about it, if I wrote to please others, where would I be? “Can’t please everyone, so you got to please yourself” the song went so many years ago. It still stands… Next post I’ll try to write about something that’s been on my mind for some time now; The Rage. It scares and worries me, and I’m not sure how to tackle this topic. No no, this time it isn’t my own. Which is making it so much more difficult…