Friday, April 27, 2007

the how-tos of a successful relationship | part 3 | (yeah right)

Don't ask me why or how I managed to get so bloody sensitive. It must've been something that happened last year, because I swear I was a lot less... emotional... in 2005. Perhaps (as is with many people), I have an undiscovered wound that has yet to heal... and unfortunately can't heal until it is discovered. Or maybe I was an optimist back then, but now I am a cynic. Cynical, sarcastic, critical... and just... hurting?


**


We talked tonight. You can ignore the previous blog now, because we fixed things. I realised that despite our differences (no matter how frustrating they may be at this early stage of our relationship), Edwin and I are together - and that's that. Grateful as I am for his persistence in reassuring me that he's in this for the long haul, I can't help but wonder how we will survive if he and I don't value the same things in a relationship... and then he gently and humbly reminds me that he - a young man who's lived a good 23 (almost 24) years of his life independently - is only learning now what it really means to care for someone else; to be in a relationship that requires more than mere interest, but his commitment and... well... love. And even though his learning curves often mean disappointing or hurting me, I know that if I love him then I'll let him learn.

"Love is patient." The first requirement of love in St Paul's epistle and I can't even tick it off.

And I've had another revelation about the change in character. I mean, I've always been a romantic at heart. No matter how much I say I spew over mush and affection and being called "baby" (which still makes me laugh so hard that my sides hurt), I know that I love the ideal of love. I love Love. This is a character flaw which has led to many heartbreaks and stumbles, but hey - I've known it all along.

What I didn't know, though, was that I capable of being the type of girl I promised I'd never be: jealous, demanding, sensitive and... God-forbid... giver of the silent-treatment. And yet all these traits have shown themselves on more than several occassion in the last four months. What the hell got into me???

Is it really because the idealist in me was so badly bruised that the cynic has taken permanent residence in my personality? Can the bruises heal, or will I forever be jaded? I'd like to believe in a pure, lasting, and beautiful love... but can't help but fear the disappointment of reaching for a star only to find it no longer exists.

I believe all my doubts and insecurities are unleashed at Edwin, even though they've only blossomed because so many other things in my life have come to such a bitterly disappointing "slap-in-the-face-and-splash-your-face-with-a-bucket-of-ice-water" ending - and I'm terrified that we too will reach the same conclusion/finale. I know he tells me I shouldn't think like that... but I won't lie - I am scared.

Like I said to Amardeep on the way home from today's catch-up with Andrew Moody and Cobey: It's like I turned this over and over in my mind so many times, allowing the dreams and fantasies to build; only to find the reality of the situation thoroughly unsatisfying to the point of tears. (I was referring to my job by the way, not my relationship with Edwin)

For years I allowed myself to believe that I was destined to work full-time in youth ministry, only to find myself burnt out and unequipped for the journey only a few months after beginning it. All those years I built it up in my mind, my heart blinded with the desire and the goal to serve, serve and serve some more... and now that I'm here and finally doing it... I can't do it. I told Amardeep the irony was that the moment I started getting paid to do what I loved the most, I began to hate it. Funny that...

And here I am, sitting on my bed, all snuggled up in my pyjamas, and I can't help but get depressed because I feel so unaccomplished. I knew it was blunt truth that the Joy that Andrew taught 5 years ago in senior high school hasn't changed at all: I'm still a lost idealist with no idea what I want to do with my life or my career or my future. All I know is that if I stay exactly where I am now for any longer than I promised I would... I would end up going mental.

I also know that my desire to leave this place is growing even more and more fervent. It's not because I want to escape. It's because I know that if I leave, then I can look back at this very spot and for once see it from an outsiders/objective viewpoint, and realise that it ain't so bad. That I'm not unaccomplished, or that I'm not turning into the girlfriend I told myself never to be. I'm just in the painful process of growing up.

"Why so downcast, oh my soul, put thy hope in God..."
Psalm 42

a poll on disappointment

We've moved offices and it's freezing down here. On a few positive notes, I get a window, and we're one floor below the chapel.
I'm tired. Slightly disappointed. I think I need to go and pray.

Tell me what's worse:
a) You're boyfriend forgetting your anniversary OR
b) You're boyfriend knowing it was your anniversary but deciding that there's no need to see each other or celebrate.

I can't figure it out. I don't know when this all started mattering to me, but I really do think that the first is much better. At least with option (a) it was just a slip of the mind. I could justify forgetfulness because he might be busy, not feeling well.. or had other things on his mind. But deciding the occassion just isn't important enough to even see each other? A brief visit? 5 minutes? A hug?

Nope... none of that. Just an e-card sent via email.
Well... I can't complain about the card: granted it was cute and thoughtful. But I always thought e-cards were the type of thing you sent to acquaintances who lived interstate or overseas.

Not to your girlfriend who lives 1km away.

Boys, take heed. Remember that blog post from millennia ago, when I mentioned how much girls want to feel loved, cherished and irreplaceable? Just because you've got her "yes" and don't have to wonder whether or not you've got her, don't think that desire we all have decreases. If anything, now that we've given our yes to you, we'd like to be constantly reminded that we didn't make a mistake by giving you the green light.

Monday, April 23, 2007

i'm on a train | with no one driving

I chucked a sicky today. Not a fake one - a real one.
Woke up with my head aching, the neighbour's dog barking, my forehead sweating and a sore back.
Not a fun Monday morning. Still tossing up if it's worth going to work tomorrow.. but I kind of think I have to. Yuck.

Friday, April 20, 2007

Incoherent | (excerpt 001)

AT FIRST, IT SOUNDED like it was coming from the neighbour's house. Within two seconds it sounded as though it was erupting inside her skull - the rhythmic rattling on her bedside table and invading sound of her mobile's alarm clock. She slapped it, hoping that the palm of her hand had somehow struck the snooze button.

Friday. Already? How?

Her eyes wouldn't open. She was stuck in the limbo between the tiring reality of having to get out of bed, and the tiring nightmare she'd had while she was in bed. Seriously... there really is no escape from this.

She finally surrendered, dragging her exhausted body out from under the mess of blankets, mentally refusing to tidy them up. In the shower, her eyes were closed and she stood there, shivering and shaking, despite the steam fogging up the shower.

Shit. She stood in front of her wardrobe, naked, hair dripping, staring at her vast assortment of clothes. I really don't have the energy for this. The once simple task of choosing what to wear to work was already overworking her brain. And it was already 7:56. She was already meant to be on the motorway. 56 minutes ago. She carefully applied her make up. She used to be against this sort of thing - daily make up. But lately it had become more necessary - puffy eyes were not a flattering look. And looking nice was one of the few luxuries she still had to look forward to.

To her relief, apart from getting beeped at for not checking her blind spot, there was little to be stressed about during the drive to work. She breezed through the door with a brilliant smile on her face, said a chirpy goodmorning to those in her office awake enough to hear her, and put her bags down. Immediately, the phone rang.

She spoke excitedly and laughed loudly on the phone while the new emails began to flash up on the screen before her.

"I completely understand!" She said, brightly, "Of course, I'll email the latest copy to you straight away... yup... clicking 'send' right now... thank you Brendan... it's always my pleasure..." (laughter) "Yes, always. And you know I'm just a phone call away... why wouldn't I be happy on a Friday?... Well yes, you have a brilliant weekend and we'll talk again soon... yes, ok... bye!"

Another three emails appeared in her inbox, and she noticed the red light flashing on her phone, indicating awaiting messages. She picked up the receiver and entered her voicemail number, her eyes scanning the most recent email.

Here you go gorgeous! (see attachment) How are you this morning? Love, Daniel.

She paused for a moment, wondering how to answer that question after such an affectionate greeting. She knew - unlike Daniel, Brendan, and everyone else who would call or email but never see her - that even though she'd stepped out of the shower over an hour ago, she was still shaking.

*****************************

6 hours ago
She was trashing around in bed, beads of sweat forming and rolling around the skin of her forehead. Then she was still and whimpering. Her face, usually bright and joyful, was twisted with violent fear. Please. She was whispering now. Please just go away. Please. Go. Away. More whimpering. Silence.

Then with a tortured scream, her back arched, her face contorted, and suddenly she was limp, motionless, in sheets soaked with her own sweat.

*****************************

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

the red jumpsuit apparatus

With an album titled "Don't You Fake It," it's no wonder the five boys (who happen to be around my age) making up the band called The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus are my current new flavour. They've been rocking through the stereo speakers for a few hours now... along with the likes of All American Rejects.

I keep thinking about starting up the whole writing thing again. I've been buying books with the hope for the joy of being able to revel in the beautiful past time of reading, and each time I allow myself to be completely engrossed in a new plot line, I ask myself if I'll ever do what I said I would do - and that is WRITE A BOOK. Writing used to be my passion once... that amongst many other things that have faded to the back of my personality. I find that time slips away to easily, and my longing for fresh, crisp and inviting pages only find their way into my hands when already filled with a fully furnished typeface and a story with a complete set of characters.

Besides, there is nothing new and inspiring to write about these days. I find myself joining the rest of the narcissistic crew, blogging their way through life, selfishly engrossed in my own personal life story, unable to see the possibilities of new character development, and journeys apart from the one travelled my own rubix cube of a road map.

And so, to keep with this self-involved theme of tonight's entry, here's an update on the life of random gibberish:

Just listened to: "Atrophy" by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
Liking the lyrics:
I warned you
what could happen if you should decide
to live your life from the 9 to 5
and I mourn you
for the detail that is left unsaid
is a reminder of the time you bled

Return to days when you knew you still felt alive
Reveal the way you felt when you could look inside

They've sold you
everything you need to fix you up
and you feel good now but you can't wake up
they found a way to reassure you
that everything would be okay
reach out today now I emplore you
to remember who you are...

(appropriate, no?)

Just watched: TMNT
Where at? Drive-ins. (Who would've thought I'd go to the drive-ins?) And yes, the movie was great... reliving the early 90s is always great...
Wearing: My favourite bedroom apparel. (which doesn't involve much apparel at all because my bedroom is always a toaster)
Current pet hate: The dog next door (pardon the pun). His (or her) barking is driving me insane, since it always seems to start at insane hours of the day. Like 6am... on a Saturday morning.
Current vice: Trashy magazines like Cleo and New Woman. Although they don't fall as far into the garbage category as "Who" and "NW" magazines, they're still full of the lies and rubbish that doesn't actually fulfill me. As if fashion, make-up and a sinful sex life is going to make me any closer to being... JOY. And yet I insist on wasting my money reading crappy stories about it all. Stupid girl.
Current regret: Maxing my EARTH credit card on things I don't need. Stupid girl.
Purchase that I DON'T regret: Books. Recent ones include "Blind Submission" (which is a good read, and no it's NOT a raunchy erotic novel), and "The Pact" (which I've only just started but found on the front table at a beautiful second-hand book store on Pitt St).

I can see:

:: The stuffed lion that Edwin got me at the Easter Show. It's got a bright orange mane and big blue eyes and has been affectionately named "Grr."
:: A box of Kleenex.
:: A very untidy pile of books, including the Bible, The Pact by Jodi Picoult, Holy Cow! by Sarah McDonald, Pope Benedict's encyclical on love, And On the Seventh Day - a trilogy by Paulo Coelho.
:: White Australian Open 2007 cap (also from Edwin)
:: Chest of drawers with blue undies sticking out
:: Lindt milk chocolate Easter rabbit with its head bitten off.
:: Kodak digital camera with 2MB worth of John Mayer in its memory

On my mind:
:: Should really learn how to use MoviePlus 5 so I can publish the Youth Festival video properly.
:: Am I really supposed to be starting to make the JCI video?
:: FLASH 8 tutorials... back to the ood ol' uni days of multimedia production and animation... oh *@!&$!
:: Maybe I'll work from home tomorrow.
:: Snuggles
:: Website website website.
:: Well she never was the best / at following the trends / Stayed one step above the rest / And even though it seemed / Like the world was crashing on her / Didn't let it hold her down / Didn't hold her back oh no / Don't worry you'll show them / [Chorus:] There's a fire in your eyes / And I hope you'll let it burn / There's a scream in your voice / And I hope you will be heard / There's a fire in your eyes / And I hope you'll let it burn / Until you're heard, you're heard (again, The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus)
:: Sleep... oh now that's a good idea.

Friday, April 13, 2007

Friday evenings

It's 5:06pm and I haven't eaten much today. I just keep getting swept up in another task, which never even made it on my to-do list, but still managed to be on the "high priority" list. Does that make sense? Probably not?

Looking at my blog archive, I realised I must've been pretty damn bored in 2005, because I posted almost 3 times more regularly than I did in 2006. Or perhaps 2006 was just a bleak year, and I didn't want to depress anyone with my thoughts.

I look back at my old entries and wonder how I used to have such a positive outlook on life, where that positive outlook escaped to, and why the heck I'm so tired and depressed all the time? What did I lose? What am I missing?

I feel as though I'm constantly looking for something, but I'm unsure of what it is. I tell myself this because it's better to think that I'm missing something, as opposed to having everything but still feeling empty.

I told Vincent that I feel like I haven't accomplished anything in my life. That's not true, but that's how I feel.

Anyway, to share with you completely pointless but somewhat traumatic event: two hunstman spiders hitched a ride in my Corolla yesterday. They were crawling around in my boot for God knows how long before freaking me out twice in one evening. My dad managed to flick one at me, and Edwin lost the other one somewhere in his front yard. Not the most heroic of moments for either of them...

Thursday, April 12, 2007

retail therapy... and why I should never do it.. EVER

I'm such a dumb-ass. In the past seven days I've spent over $500. Nothing essential... just... stuff. Stuff to wear mainly. It's like everything else in my life is just too difficult, so shopping releases my mind into... debt. Ha...

Let me think... now. My current purchases (and no, I shall not list them ALL) include...

* Jane Mercer black leather boots: $190.95
* White Chinese Laundry shoes: $50
* Turquoise G.I. heels: $49
* Dark denim skinny jeans: $72
* Red Forecast leather belt: $14.95
* Brown Forecast hat: $12.95
* Dark blue butterfly halter-neck dress: $10

I can't even remember what the other $100 was... don't go there.

Friday, April 06, 2007

My computer is seriously struggling. As I type this, its humming noise is becoming more and more stressed out. Poor machine. It's seen me through some great and trying times - old uni assessments, several YFC mission trips, retreats, youth group programs, and the major reformat or two.

At the moment I'm trying to compress pics from the CYS GAT so I can email them to Sav. Sav - someone who I used to spend so much time with, and now someone I only ever really correspond with via email or text. This could be depressing... in actual fact it's just a part of life. You leave uni, move into full-time work, and suddenly spare time is a thing of the past, and evenings are no longer spent making random visits to other people's homes. Shame really.. I didn't realised we'd all grow up so quickly and move into the real world.

The real world. @#$%&.

I'll admit, up until today, I haven't been a big fan of the "real world." I went to confession and the priest said, "This is a good day to start over. Remember what Jesus did to save you - you can lay all your sins on the table and my advice would be to leave them there. Today you can think of God's love, and start over."

Easier said than done, but I'll take his words over my own depressing thoughts any day. And man.. have I been depressing lately. I kind of feel for Amardeep, Edwin and Sarah... three people who are constantly hearing my life's progress reports (or perhaps lack-of-progress reports?). They listen patiently, and I'm not sure what it is that makes them still want to hang out with me.

I need a holiday. Or maybe not a holiday.. but something different. Something different and nice. Something that doesn't involve much effort, and the need for major justification.

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

uh... those late nights

I'm completely hopeless. Six months into my first full-time job, and I'm still hanging onto old habits: procrastinating and praying to the Lord for an extension past the deadline.

Although before the future employee reads this and decides not to hire me (I hear that's the trend these days - employers look up your blog and decide from your writings whether or not your out-of-interview persona is equally worthy of the job) - I plea unfair treatment. Not only did the two people who handed this project to me NOT give me the material I needed to begin with, they also provided me little to no guidance, telling me only two days before the deadline that the deadline was.. well... last Thursday.

And so here I am - 1:51am on a Monday night, finishing up what's supposed to be the next greatest video to hit the promo charts. Pffft! Yeah right. I'm a beginner, and the product of several hours of (frustratingly!) converting footage into editable format... twiddling around with a new program... learning my way through the short-cuts and highlights of the multi-media production worls...

Hey hold up. Since when was multimedia in my job description? And when does all the extra hours of work get put in as overtime on my paysheet? Answer to both questions is nah-daahh... Nuthin.. zilch. Because all this (as I like to try to convince myself) is out of love for both God and the people I work for... pffft! (once again).

Can I admit right now that I'm totally struggling here? I'm not even going to say "I hate to admit it..." because I love admitting it - I just HATE IT when people ignore my plea of insanity. Ugh! Just because I've gotten through tough times before, that doesn't disable my need for help... But it I've sadly discovered that my 2007 mantra has to be "Just f**n deal with it," because unfortunately, no matter how hard I try or what I do, I always seem to curse myself over and over again.