Blanket Of Denial

Every time you resurfaced I shunned you away

And pretended you weren't there, you didn't exist

I've been too scared to even look you in the eyes

To acknowledge our brewing connection

I covered you up in thousands of lies

Wrapped you in a convenient blanket of denial

Every time you reached for me I turned away

I didn't have the strength to deal with this condition

I don't have the lengthened arms to fully embrace it

There's my old bravery that I've been trying to hide

Like I've forgotten how to control my darkest moments

How to face them directly and steer them towards the light

Instead I've been isolating myself from you

I've run at every given occasion

Like you were a contamination

In my system of classification

Don't remind me again that you're dormant in my mind

Always sleeping in the outskirts of my conscious thoughts

Don't show yourself again, now you've been successfully fought

Your return will only get you burned and caught

You don't know who I am anymore

I've become dangerous

You don't know me but I've learned every aspect of you

I know every clouded corner of you, every scar

I know how to patch you up and how to resist you

You've made that absolute, you've set it in stone

You've written it in the largest readable letters

Your greatest fear that I might miss it

That I might, for a moment,

forget that you're still alive

And I can tell there's something behind your idolized ideas

As it's seemingly impossible to treat you with denial

Every time you resurfaced I shunned you away

and pretended you weren't there

You reminded me again

And wrote those large letters

And every letter hurt

I was hurt by every word

Still, I can't seem to remember how to face you

How to look you directly in the eyes

I can't remember how to deal with you

Or how to reconquer my control of you

Still, the only thing I seem to be capable of is decadence

The only thing I can achieve under your influence

And I'll run at every given occasion

I'll run, run away

from depression

Deep Inside Insomnia

We bought some time now, didn't we

before the world as we know it will end

Just extending this temporary haven

for a few more precious moments

this temporary solution

Did I willingly drink this delicious poison

And buy into this familiar phenomenon

I convinced myself I would cherish it, relish it

That this time the taste wouldn't be bitter, but sweet

It wouldn't eventually lead to my defeat

I knew what I was buying into, didn't I, didn't you

I knew there was a chance the world might come tumbling down

Shattering everything, every hard-earned feeling

Paid for in blood, in tears, in agony, in memory

It was part of the mechanical calculations

Carried out inside my tired mind

Deep inside insomnia

We don't live forever, do we

There isn't really time for calculations, is there

Better to follow your intuition, deeply buried

Buried beneath pride and social constructions

Rather than any actual restrictions

We don't live forever, do we

But we bought some time

Didn't we

The Nest Of Fear

Well if I haven't fallen back into the same dark dream again

Fallen back into the same dark abyss, sprawled on my back

Pain spreading through my core and attack through my fingers

Slowly mingled with an insight of mortality that lingers

And only gradually is worn out

So that every time I've fought it down

It's strong enough to heal itself,

strong enough to return

Knocking me off my feet

This eternal circle,

isn't it familiar, doesn't it burn

Oh if I'm not dreaming again

This tight knot of worry that I'm quite failing to repress

That entangled little knot of unspeakable threat

With the ability to endanger our entire situation

With the ability to render it extinct

Is that what you think, that I've lost all instinct

That I've lost all comprehension of what links

us all together in a series of metal rings

In a neverending chain,

isn't it familiar, isn't it pain

Oh, if I'm not dreaming again

Could I pinpoint the source of this inexplicable outburst

Could I circle with my fingertips my anger at my own thirst

Could I extinguish just that little flame that you awoke

Only that I thought I was dead inside,

thought I had taught myself the blunt, the dull

How to become a wall

Oh, haven't you learned how to tear those down with fire

Haven't you learned how to tear those down with catapults

Haven't you learned, haven't you learned

That nest of fear that's lived in my chest for years

That dark little monster that fed from abandonment

It's that shipwreck of mine that's now resurfaced

Complete with sails that were never tried at sea

Complete with the salt water pouring right through me

Like waterfalls, like vertical ponds of sorrow

This nest of weakness,

oh, isn't it familiar

Isn't it

Haven't I gone and fallen back into

the same dark dream again

Clarity Disabled

I've put myself in a hopeless situation

Willingly marched towards my own destruction

Knowingly fallen deep into addiction

Licking every last crumb off my fingers

Clutching my head, clutching my hands

Clutching my head

I can't stop perceiving these visions

Can't protect my mind from the intrusion

I'm only addicted, addicted to the infusion

Alarmed whenever my head clears

Whenever it's unclouded

Clarity is enabled

You didn't always fear clarity, did you

You weren't always consent with ignorance

Wasn't there a time you fought for innocence

When did you exchange it for vengeance

When did you exchange it for

Indulgence

I don't even think I'm equipped for defense

Even with the right tools I'll be unmotivated

There's no reason for me anymore to resist

Why not simply give in to permanent decadence

Whenever your head's unclouded

Clarity is enabled

You didn't always fear clarity, did you

You weren't always consent with ignorance

Wasn't there a time you fought for innocence

When did you exchange it for vengeance

When did you exchange it for

Indulgence

You told me I had betrayed my past self and inner child

That while my mind grew dull, my heart grew wild

Am I now supposed to adjust these regulations

Force myself back into ancient patterns

So I could fit with your intentions

Without any compensation

Is that part of your current implication

I'm divided within my own moral framework

Undecided between the young and the old

Undecided between what was only thought

And what was really told

All I can guarantee is that the two halves

Together, seem to make a whole

Complementing eachother

Compensating one another

Until I'm clutching my head

Clarity disabled

Lovely Bones

I don't know how to describe my current state of mind if not dull, blunt, encapsuled in a bubble where I feel enclosed from the world, isolated, alone. It's like I've forgotten everything I used to care for, forgotten what used to be delicate, what used to be valuable, how the smallest things could triumph over the daily and trivial. I can probably blame this mood on stress, big deadline coming up this week and everything; but it does trouble me. Not bother me, I'm too closed off from everything to feel like it's bothering me... but the thought of it is slightly discouraging. It's hard to describe, but for someone whose belief is that emotion is key, feeling robbed of your emotions is like giving away one of your arms... I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels like this. It's strange though. I used to believe that what you did in the daytime didn't matter as long as the rest was deep, was meaningful, being with your friends, listening to that music, going to this and that place, travelling... and now it seems my whole life revolves around school, I don't even have time to do laundry or clean my apartment, everything is so frantic and I feel like I've been walking around like a useless zombie ever since I came back from England. Something happened to my level of ambition while away; I can't seem to get back into the right focus and I hate myself a little for that; I'm sure I could have been more efficient than I have been since I got back here... But I think it'll work out... and hopefully, eventually, I'll feel that I can feel again, so that I'm not this deadened poet walking the streets and randomly sleeping at off hours as I was some fucking cat. I even feel bad because my Mom called me earlier and I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about because I was still so tired, and she said she just called me to say she and Dad loves me and I felt horrible for not paying them the proper attention back. But I'm just so monotonous and my post-three-hours-on-sofa mood was pretty intense and like Glenda said, confusi-fying.


To just please change the topic, I'm currently reading Alice Sebold's "The Lovely Bones" and it's so, so saddening. You'd think this clashes with my previously described lack of emotion but in my world it definitely and easily coincides. It's saddening in itself that a piece of fiction can be more touching and real to me than everything I see and feel around me. I guess I'm a little tired of reality, simply...


That's really all I have to say now... see you in some other, less exhausted stage.
POET IN THE JAR

Post-Happiness Infusion

Are these my real thoughts
My actual ideas put in words
Or are they just a product of depression
A post-happiness infusion
A post-happiness display

Everything was so stable
Until I was murdered
By sentimental happiness

Have you ever felt it's impossible to learn
That you always fall back into your own past mistakes
As if you set a pattern for yourself that you must now follow
It's in your blood and carved in stone
Forged from your fear of the comfortable
And from your fear of being alone
In combination

Everything was so stable
I had pieced together everything I could find
Every little piece of paper, pieced together with glue
Forming the most delicate of statues
I had waterproofed it
So it would sail safely
In the rain
In the gutters

Had I ever expected the glue to dissolve
Or for the sun to kill its way through the darkness
Had I ever expected all these connections
All these encapsuled memories
Trapped in my mind
Escaping in laughter
And in tears

Why can't I embrace the unpredictable
Why am I dependent on scenarios in my mind
I relive them always, chasing the undeniable
And creating new ones from time to time
The plausible, the impossible, the improbable
They all struggle in my mind
And when reality strikes
I realize

It never matters what wars go on inside of me
When I only struggled for show and for comfort
Forcing my demons to believe my sugarcoated whispers
In promises about tomorrows I had no right to give away
Tomorrows that were never mine
They were only mine to borrow

Mumble Jumble

I wish I could put my thoughts down in poetry, because I currently feel pretty poetic and deep, but there's just random lines floating about in my head that don't make sense, don't correlate... I'm a little confused and very tired and my head is filled with recent moments of laughter and timeless bubbles cut away from the rest of the world... I wonder if there's something remarkable about certain people. I feel like the people surrounding me daily just fill me with energy and it's like I had forgotten what that felt like, forgotten what people like that could do, what difference they could make. I guess the conclusion I can draw from that is that I really feel like I'm at home and it feels like I would never trade these days for anything. I think I'm going to miss these times a lot when it's all over... I'll try not to think about that, for now...

So at the same time why is everything so depressing? Everyone's feelings, my own feelings, how they clash, how they rebel, how they go into war. All the thoughts jumbled in my head mixing the hopes I have about the future while being absolutely convinced that future will never appear before me, I'll never live to see it...

It was a long time since I felt so split, but it may be a good thing. It can be turned into words. Into art. Into determination and ambition... if only I learn to catch up properly on my sleep...

POET IN THE GLASS JAR

Details

When will I stop reading things into every detail
Things that only flickered by in the minds of others
But to me they are enlarged and deemed important
Deemed vital for unknown reasons I'm sure will show
Reasons I'm sure will save the world or the universe
Or at least save me

I wonder if the insight will eventually break me down
When I realize there was never anything grand
about all those small things that no one ever noticed
Those small things that I lived for
Those small things that I breathed for

When will I stop hoping for the naivest of dreams
And when will I stop nurturing that little knot in my chest
That only unties at certain occasions
At certain inclinations

Are you even aware that I'm breathing
Are you aware what I read into everything you say
What would you say to me if you were able to read me too
Like I was an open book, kind of like you

Let's pretend I don't recognize this feeling
Pretend I don't know what path I'm going down
The highway to my own destruction
Neatly laid out under my feet
By my treacherous heart

I thought I had told myself I could be rational
I could listen to my own logic, reason and rhyme
But it seems I keep being unpredictable, untameable
Time, after time

When will I stop reading things into every detail
Stop intercepting every imaginary message
Sent down the imaginary tubes
Signed by the invisible
Signed by you

POET IN THE JAR

A Word Or A Feeling

Let's pretend I've grown out of disappointment
Let's pretend I'm too old to be naive
That I embrace the rational
Let's pretend that's me

Is disappointment a word or a feeling
Does it have meaning
Is it nothing but the bitter taste in your mouth
The taste of sour on your lips and on your tongue
Is it just the air going down your lungs
Every time you breathe
Just a little less air

Can you say your heart was painted by the feeling
From the inside and out, drowning in paint
Can you say you understand me
When I try to describe how I feel
Or are you just a portrait on the wall
Without thought or feeling at all

Did you smell those chrysant flowers
Did you smell the ocean waves
Did you ever expect more than the world
currently had on display for you
And did you see them,
when they tore it all away
Under your feet

Or did you read about disappointment in a dictionary
Was it explained to you in descriptive words
Did they show you pictures, and play you interviews
With everyone who had ever had the feeling
And do you remember what they said to you

Aren't they just whispers when they whisper from the dark
Aren't they just drifting sound that you interpret
Aren't they just screaming voices in your mind
When you try to silence them, every time
They resurface

I can't embrace what reason and rhyme tells me to believe
I only believe what I see and what I feel as real
When my heart burns and aches with pain,
born and raised in the disappointment game
My mind can tell it to quiet down and to control itself
My mind can even convince my heart that the mind is right
But I can't change what is felt in the heart
When logic and chaos crash together,
and fall apart

Let's pretend I've grown out of disappointment
It's a fun game, isn't it, built on lies
One of the games that every adult plays
A game that doesn't improve with time
Let's pretend I've embraced the rational
But I can't agree

That sense alone is enough
to silence me

The Death Of Dread

I don't remember my heart ever being this full of dread
Filled to the brim with plausible and impossible scenarios
I don't remember when I last felt this heavy
Like every step I took weighed me down
Like every streetlight I passed by
Provoked a chain reaction
And made me feel
every possible emotion

I don't remember when I felt relieved
Except for the times I escaped into my heart
and rearranged it to suit my temporary wishes
Rearranged it so I could pretend it was different
That everything was different

I don't remember when I last felt so small
Like all the buildings towered up around me
Making me insignificant, making me insufficient
I'm so small, in comparison to the sky
To the world
To everyone

I try so hard to convince myself nothing comes easy
And to live the the life you've always dreamed
Requires sacrifice
I try so hard
I'm good at giving advice to myself
Advice I never follow
Things are too comfortable
Too easy and simple
To change

What if things really were different
What would it matter to the world
It's far too busy to stop, and see me
And in the long run, what would I prefer
Fulfilling guidelines of the universe
that I never understood
Or following my heart
Even though it breaks me

Even though it breaks me
It won't break the world
I'll still live
I'll still be
Even when no one else
Can see me

They Always Fall Down

I can feel them burning, burning like fire in my eyes
I can't let them out, can't let them escape
I can't unleash the waterfall
and the waterfall always starts
with just one drop

If I succumb to them what happens to my anger
To my conviction that this was only to be expected
I'll only fall again, and become the sacrifice needed
To avoid confrontations and ill words
To feed my feeling of being safe
And cradled

but some things aren't worth what they cost to achieve

No, I can't let them fall, I can't
If only there was another way to channel them
If only I could send them back and pretend
they never burned in my eyes like fire
Pretend they never blurred my sight
But in the end they always fall
And there's only one way to fall
Down

They always fall down

Mindtricks

Have you ever tried to embrace the cause of your sadness
Holding it to your heart in a treacherous caress
The last time you can read eachother
The last time you'll live in bliss
In one last embrace
In one last kiss
Have you ever experienced this

You spun lies out of spoken words
And almost fell for your own deceit
Learning to mask yourself so skillfully
That everyone was fooled
Including me

I'll keep my own mindtricks at an arm's length away
Hoping I'll protect myself that way
I told myself I was making the right decisions
Keeping my own impulses at bay
Now I can't tell if I did it out of convenience
Or out of self-preservation
And cutting the bonds with desperation
Requires motivation


You spun lies out of spoken words
And almost fell for your own deceit
Learning to mask yourself so skillfully
That everyone was fooled
Including me

Could you teach me, please
How to look beyond the shortest moments
While keeping remembrance of myself
Of who I always wanted to be
Can you teach me, please
You seem to know

You spun lies out of spoken words
And almost fell for your own deceit
Learning to mask yourself so skillfully
That everyone was fooled
Including me

Why couldn't you hold up a mirror shard to me
Forcing me to face what stared back at me
Why couldn't you confront me with my monsters
Maybe that would have scared me back on track
Or at least raised my defenses, spurred me to attack

I spun lies out of spoken words
And almost fell for my own deceit
Learning to mask myself so skillfully
That everyone was fooled
Including me

Sister Time, School, Writing And Watching Documentaries

Nanowrimo is nearing with huge steps. It's in fact just one day away (not counting today), and I intend to spend that day in glorious vacation spirit together with my sister. She's visiting me over the day and I can't wait to see her. I love having visitors, I've missed her like crazy, and some sister-and-sister time always cheers me up. We're going to go swimming and get a nice sun treatment (we people in Scandinavia need these things when the sun decides to go into hibernation for half a year - and yes, that's totally what happens, I've always been such a scientist) that will hopefully cheer my tired body and mind up. I've prepared for making both tacos for dinner and blueberry pie for dessert. Sometimes even a student has to award themselves with a bit of luxury, and what better timing than when your sister visits? We calculated it a bit earlier today and we think that the last time she was here was during the spring, so it's really not something that happens very often. The more fun it'll be, hopefully!

On another, university-related note, I've now submitted all of my assignments and all I can do now is cross my fingers and hope they'll be well received. I spent a few hours of today worrying that I won't pass until I told myself to get a grip and simply stay put for the results. It's kind of hard though, this is one of the courses I've been the very most enthusiastic about and the impact of the grade will therefore be the bigger... I really hope I won't have to redo anything. I'll just cross my fingers and now forget about it.

I can't wait to start Nano. I'm lucky in the way that after Thursday, we're lesson- and homework-free until November 7th, so if I'm just disciplined enough I can try and get a head start for the rest of the month. After all, there'll be no deadlines in November as far as I know; the final submissions will be at the end of the course, and that's not until January. But if Nano interferes with my school results, I'll have to drop it. I'm reluctant to, I have a great idea, and even the most clear and vivid idea of my characters in my head - I might even go ahead and draw them after I write this post. Oh, I should get on with writing the Lovecraft story as well. I was hoping DJ might show up and do some word wars with me so I could finish it, but I haven't seen him around yet, so maybe I'll just do a few on my own. I'd love to have that story sent in so I can really focus on Nano. I don't think I'll be able to do that until the story has been sent in! It's a pretty interesting story, about a man who stays awake because he's afraid of his nightmares. Little does he know that he has very good reasons to be (that is yet to be revealed, probably on page four). It's overall a story about the mare, that gave the word 'nightmare' it's name; the version of it that can be found in Nordic mythology. At least I find it interesting myself and I think it's a pretty Lovecraftian mood over it, but then I'm not one of the judges. It'll be great once I finish it and submit it - it will mean that so far this year I have kept my promise, and entered every writing contest I've found, with only one exception: the Umeå annual contest, which is aimed more towards established writers. I didn't participate in it because A) there was no theme or limitations in the instructions, which strangely generated absolutely no ideas in my head, B) they only approve submissions by regular post which gave me less writing time and C) I had too many other stories going on anyway. I still feel pretty proud of my achievement and I plan on collecting all my produced stories in a little anthology and give it as a Christmas present to my grandparents, and to my mother, the three people who have supported me the most in my writing. I can't wait. Another good thing about November is that two contests will announce the results and the winners, and even though I didn't feel like I produced anything unique for either, I'm still excited to see how it goes. Who knows? I have been wrong before in situations like these. I just really don't want to get my hopes up. There are plenty of good writers out there who are quite the competition so I'm not counting on anything.

Today I've been watching various documentaries most of the day, mostly due to the fact that I'm now 'free' (with the exception of our other course, but I've worked as hard as I could on that today as well, so). I've watched everything from Norse runes found in America, experimental surgeries in the Roman empire, the artwork and film-making of Salvador Dali, the life and deeds of Mother Teresa and very briefly looked at a documentary about president Nixon. I feel twice as informed about the world as I was before, ha, ha. It's a good sign that my brain didn't fry and that I could actually focus on something that wasn't cartoons for more than ten minutes - something I'm not quite able to do when I'm stressed and hyper.

Anyway, that's about all I had to say for now, I should really get to vacuum cleaning and finishing Lovecraft.
See you in the glorious Nano Land!
POET IN THE JAR

Monster Walk

Seems like the only thing I can write right now are random blog posts, but who cares, since I'll have all the writing I'll ever need come November. Not to mention that Lovecraft contest entry that I'm meaning to write but haven't gotten the chance to. Honestly I don't know when I might get the chance to, since we have all our animation deadlines on Sunday, and all our storyboard deadlines on Monday, and I'm far from done with either. Typically for me I was going to fix up one of my previous animations today, in which the character is only supposed to try and open a heavy, locked door; but ended up playing around with giving him a monster walk. If I was at least a little bit responsible I would let the monster walk wait until I had at least made him try that door but there goes. My mind is a little messed up lately despite all my efforts with studying schedules and whatnot. And that just reminded me I should go look at my studying schedule. There, I have now looked at it. Oh, so that's what it says about tomorrow. Two hours of animation and the rest of the day for Storyboard - and if the Storyboard work doesn't take too long then two times two hours of animation. Wow, I have really covered all possibilites. I like looking at my planning of the week, more often than not I am surprised at how cleverly and neatly I have structured my time (now let's just hope I can keep up with that).


But enough about boring schedules and studying.
I'm so excited about Nanowrimo! It starts in just a week, luckily just when all the deadlines have been submitted. My main character Madeline attempts suicide and fails. Afterwards, she finds it impossible to remember the real reason why she wanted to die. It bothers her to the point that she goes to a hypnotherapist, Doctor Ava Lynn Gardner, in order to find out, and hopes the good doctor will be able to help her deal with it if she nears another breakdown. And so her journey through hypnosis begins. She'll be travelling through five different areas of her mind, all influenced by different traditional fairytales. The first fairytale is a dark and twisted Little Mermaid spinoff, where Doctor Ava Lynn to her great regret is forced into the shape of a human with a fish's head. Since she physically remains in the office where she sends Madeline into her own mind, the good doctor can only enter the fairytales with her voice, and her body takes on different shapes in each area. I'm currently trying to figure out what shape she will take in the Thumbelina area but that, in essence, is a whole different cattle of onions.


Well, that's that for now, I think. I need to get to bed early if I want to be anything remotely close to efficient while working on my assignments tomorrow. Good night for now and I'll see you in the various November posts about how Nanowrimo is going that the Poet is predicting. Oh, and she says hi, by the way.
POET IN THE POETRY JAR

Writing And Thinking And Going Haywire

I'm pretty sure this song wasn't in the playlist I just chose, but that's just secondary, and not really what I was thinking at all. Listening to some Shinedown while thinking about stuff. There isn't even anything for me to do in the apartment because I already cleaned and did the dishes yesterday. Odd feeling, there's always something I should be doing but being in front of the screen; but now there isn't - and to top that off I have even spent my planned hours on studying too today, so I've been quite ambitious! Still, my mood swings up and down like the pendulum in a grandfather's clock. It has been pretty stable since I heard Elton John sing I'm Still Standing on the radio when I was taking a drive over to the supermarket, but before that it went haywire. I really felt like just taking the car and going home to Mom and Dad and my sister, even though I wouldn't have arrived until after midnight, which I doubt would have been very popular... still, it's quite tempting to do it tomorrow morning and just surprise everyone, and to, I don't know, just get away from everything around here. It would be cool taking a drive just over to the gas station, stop there, fill up the car, have a coffee and then drive back. I think I might just do that, who knows. I really don't feel like being here tomorrow, there's even a big party planned which will probably be fun, but I'm broke and yeah... a little tired of partying, at the same time as it's the only thing I want to do. No, correction. Drinking is something I want to do, partying - not as much. I kinda miss the times when I was just sitting at home in my little apartment, writing away or watching stuff like Red Dwarf or reading Stephen King, drinking wine and being creative. It's in some ways incredibly depressing to be around the same parties with the same people all the time. I really want to meet new people and maybe make some new friends just for a change, but I always end up with the same people and just, blah. I don't know, it's not that I don't like the people I hang out with because I really do, I appreciate them all a lot - I'm just looking for some people who might have more stuff in common with me. Even though we have our school in common, well... it remains for people to realize that a person is more than what school they attend and well, I have a lot of hobbies that would be interesting to discuss with someone. I think that I might try to go to some write-ins, or maybe even arrange some, when Nanowrimo is here. I'm not sure I'll be able to do the full 50K since I've got both school and I need to squeeze in two more working weekends between now and New Years (already have one scheduled) but I'll be damned if I'm not going to WRITE. I have a pretty good idea too, so I'm quite excited for it! I've posted in the Nanowrimo forums for people in my area who might want to meet up, so far no replies. If no one is active in my area I think I will ask if I can join the Gothenburg people. They're probably friendly and I don't think they'd mind another Nano on board. I could really use some change of scenery - seriously. I don't know exactly why that feels so important right now.


Yesterday I think I made a huge mistake by violating one of the great Stephen's many rules about writing - keep the door closed. I even think I've blogged about it myself, but I couldn't resist. I had just finished a story I call Grammofonen for the Bonnier Carlsen's horror story contest and I really wanted to get some feedback on it. The feedback I got was: "It's well written and I got curious - but then I got disappointed. I don't understand the story". I didn't want to explain too much because I'd like people to read it and start thinking about what it means and what really happens in it; but it didn't work all that well. And now I'm stuck in doubt about this story. Did I make it too cryptical? Does the reader really have to read the other three stories connected to it in order to make sense of it? Is it too poetic, is it too abstract? I don't know, and I'm having such doubts. I'm letting the story rest for now and we'll see how I feel about it when I look at it a bit later on. Bonnier Carlsen accepts multiple stories for their contest so it doesn't really matter, I can always send in another submission if I should feel like it; but still... I don't know. Every writer doubts, I know that. I just wish I hadn't been so eager to show it to someone, because now it feels like the story has a wounded leg and can't walk properly; and I was actually happy with it when I'd finished it. I think in the end I will send it in as it is, because of one simple reason - it was a story I'd been thinking about for a long time that links together some vital things from other stories. I just thought that it would work as a stand-alone story. Maybe asking someone else to read it might also work, if I can get another perspective on it perhaps. OR, that would be repeating the deadly mistake. This close to Nano - don't let anyone make you doubt your writing or you're doomed! Ahhh, it's so easy to give advice to yourself, you just never listen to it properly. Sigh.


On another note I'm quite unusually broke (yes... probably the fifth-hundredth post about lack of money!) and I put up some stuff on this auction site for sale and hoping someone will pick it up. One auction for a bundle of band T-shirts and tops that don't fit me anymore and one auction for three of my prettiest dresses, which I can't wear anymore either. They're just lying around in the closet anyway so what's the use in keeping them? Still it feels a little sad. I wish I had something better to get rid off that would actually give me some money. These are really just pennies and nickles. But it's better than nothing. It's actually come down to the point where I'm going to exchange my leftover Euros from Vienna tomorrow. They're worth far less when they are exchanged back into Swedish money than they were before they were exchanged into Euros but I need every penny I can get to last me until payday. The reason I'm so broke right now is that I borrowed money from my London fund to pay for Vienna, and I had to pay that money back on the following paycheck. In worst case scenario I could borrow again from the London fund but that just ruins the entire purpose of having it. It's not an emergency-fund, it's the London fund; and I'd still have to pay that back again next paycheck so it's really a Catch 22 as far as that's concerned.

Really, really hoping I will get that job for the university, working at the Gamex game display in Stockholm! We got the chance to sign up for it last Monday and I signed up right away. Two or three days standing in the display case marketing the Computer Games Development Programmes - there are harder jobs, and more boring ones as well. I'm waiting to hear back from the teachers. It would help me a lot because it would give me some of the London money I had expected to gain with the writing job that didn't happen (a subject I'm only touching on lightly because I don't want to think about it and be all disappointed all over again).


Right, what are you standing here for, back to swabbing your decks and so should I. I have a long day of doing nothing mixed with possibly some storyboard drawing and possibly some alcohol later on in the evening.
POET IN THE JAR

Constellations

How great it feels to see your dreams break
To lose that little ounce of hope
that you had just managed to conjure
out of many long and sleepless nights
You drew dots of hope in constellations of stars
while blocking every other thought away
As if you could paint a better life for yourself

How great it feels, when that bubble bursts
The illusion that the circumstances might someday change
That someday you might be that person you wanted to be
That you would have done everything you wanted to do
That you had opened your eyes to everything you wanted to see

How great it feels to see all those grand plans
Abruptly and recklessly torn from your hands
instead of slipping slowly through your fingers
You're left with that feeling of surprise and confusion
And it clings to you and lingers

And it hurts, doesn't it
When everyone told you, you were too naive
Doesn't it hurt when they turn out to be right
Doesn't it hurt, doesn't it hurt
When everything breaks
And you break

Horror Show Halloween

Even though there's a lot of things currently on my mind, most of them having to do with school assignments; most of today I've been unable to focus simply because of what I dreamed during the night. It was so unsettling that I can't shake the feeling, even though I've been awake for hours now. The details have blurred up a bit, but in the dream, me and my friends had acquired an old, creepy mansion to have our Halloween party in and spent hours decorating it until it looked like your average horror mansion. Then, we went shopping for alcohol in a huge grocery store which didn't make sense at all, all the items were sorted by some obscure logic that took forever to navigate around. When I'd finally found some bottle of red wine we headed on to the mansion and for some reason we were now going to sit down and feast with all of the mansion's staff which had magically appeared. When we got the mansion earlier, it had been abandoned for ages. But that wasn't the weird part - the weird part was that all the staff was me. Different clothes, but they were all still me. It was like in that scene in Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End where Jack Sparrow orders around a bunch of versions of himself on the Black Pearl; except this was the mansion and I was ordering around me. I also switched perspectives constantly between the different versions of me, and soon the guests were all me, too; I was everyone who was at that party. The party was going to start with a dinner and the snobby guest-me told the butler-me to go get more beer, and I became butler-me, gave a huge sigh and thought that there wasn't any more alcohol to get because the store was closed, and that I'd have to give her one of my beers, and that I didn't want to do that. But I did it anyway and made sure to take the snobby guest-me's change while I was at it (it was over four hundred, not really change but her entire wallet). And then every meal I put out as the staff I didn't get the chance to finish it as the guests before we were all lifted up by some invisible power and placed on the balcony on the floor above, complete with guests, chairs, the tables, the dishes, everything. And we just kept climbing floors and I realized that no matter how much I drank from my glass as the guests the wine never came down my throat, it vanished in my mouth.

I can't stress enough how freaked out I am by this dream and it's one of my worst nightmares in a while - even though to you it probably sounds silly, even peaceful, no action. But the environment was enough. It was completely surreal. I wish for better dreams tonight.
POET IN THE JAR

Your Shallowness

Were you always this shallow
Or have you perfected your image with time
A transparent compensation for past actions
A transparent bandaid for your past wounds
Your past scars

At what point did you lose your depth
And everything that made you interesting
Everything that gave you appeal
And satisfied your own hunger

At what point did you turn your back on the world
The world that was inside your head

Is everything that counts now notches on your bedpost
Your rank among people you never cared about
Is popularity the eighth virtue or the eighth sin
Have you given that some thought
Did you let it sink in

Have you gone over your priorities just yet
Have you looked back and remembered
Remembered the reason you came here
Remembered why you chose it
Why you fought for it

It's not going to match up with your current ideals
Isn't it sad and sentimental how your values always change
And how still the core of things seems to stay the same
And everything's rooted in the past,
no matter how many branches reach out
Everything can be tied to the day
your childhood and naivety died away

Wouldn't it be great if we could brush it off
like dust from our shoulders
Wouldn't it be great

Let's pretend it's possible to run
Possible to settle down
That the demons never follow you
That you could trick them
Let's pretend

I'll let you take care of the pretending
I'd rather take the harsh truth than live in a lie
And I've come to realize what's important to me
And I don't need to feel included in your secrets
I shouldn't feel like I was the one who was left out
Just because I value what goes beyond the most basic
There's a poet inside of me screaming to get out
What's your place to tell me to quiet down
Have you ever had screams
Tearing at the inside of your mind
You have no right to tell me
I'm anything less
than what you are

And I am nothing less
than what I'm capable to be
I don't expect Your Shallowness to see
I don't expect Your Shallowness to agree
But you can turn the tables a dozen times and still find
You're not venturing like me
You're not venturing like me

Jack's World Of Hypnosis

I'm sitting here passing some time before grabbing my coffee thermos (Achievement Unlocked: Caffeinated) and heading off to school to start on my character rigging assignment, and I'm thinking about an idea for a story that I thought of the other day, for now called "Jack's World of Hypnosis". It's about Jack, a man who's been playing with irresponsibility all his life. When his whole life situation reaches a point where every way out is a dead end, Jack is sent to a therapist specializing in hypnosis. To the good doctor, Jack is an interesting subject because he, unlike every other patient, remains present while under hypnosis. In the story we follow Jack as he submerges in the world of hypnosis and is forced to face different metaphorical creations from his own past, confronting past actions and neglect. The story to me feels very alive and caught my interest, but so far the story isn't anywhere but in my head... it seems I can't find the right words to put it down on paper. But who knows? Maybe I need to think about it for a while, letting it slowly brew and finally becoming the ingredient I need to get started. Maybe some wars'll do the trick (whenever I'll find some time for that...).

Off to school now, though, and for a completely different kind of mental challenge.
POET IN THE BUSY BUSY JAR

Different Dark

I think you raped me
I think I never gave you my consent
I think that it never occurred to me to say no
I think that it didn't matter to you
That you never thought of it,
from my point of view

So go on then, do it again
You're welcome to hurt me
To rape me, to scar me
And make every little flame of life
Slowly die, deep inside

I think you stabbed me
when I wasn't looking
when I thought I was in safe hands
And you were everything but safe
How could I convince myself
you weren't dangerous
How could I convince myself
everything was fine
when it wasn't


So go on then, do it again
You're welcome to hurt me
To rape me, to bruise me
And make every little flame of life
Slowly die, deep inside

I'd love for you to tempt me again
To grab onto me and lure me in
As I've always loved to be run over completely
I've always loved to be scarred that deeply

So go on then, do it again
You're welcome to hurt me
To rape me, to bruise me
And make every little flame of life
Slowly die, deep inside

I want you to know that I'll be secretly laughing at you
Are so you pathetic that you have to force your love on others
Were you always forced to those extremes
Treading on everyone else's will and dreams

I think you raped me
I think you betrayed me to the descent
And now I'm the one who's become decadent
I'm the one who can't even focus on daily things
You've forced yourself further, you're in my head
And because of you I can't even think

So go on then, do it again
You're welcome to hurt me
To rape me, to cut me
And make every little flame of life
Slowly die, deep inside

I'd like to think that it didn't have that big of an impact on me
But who am I trying to fool when it changed everything
It even changed the fundamental me
Even though you weren't the first
To stain my innocence
Taking it for your own
It changed how I feel about things
It changed how I see them

I'm done with turning my cheek the other way
And done with pretending you and I are friends
I guess this is the turning point
Where all the pretense ends
For the first time I can see you clearly
See the effects you had on me
You thought I had forgotten,
but I had just repressed it
And it was bound to resurface
I was bound to view you in a new light

Or should I say darkness
You really should be viewed in darkness
For darkness is what has engulfed you
And it's a different dark than mine
It's a different dark than mine