Friday, June 24, 2011

Deep healing.

LTLYM Task 40
Step 1) Take a deep breath, gather some shiny things (crystals are a good option, as they emit magic and light, but if I am being honest, I would say any shiny thing would do. Alfoil. Old necklaces. Go crazy!)
Step 2) Place as many lights as you own in one room. Candles promote bonus healing.
Step 3) Make sure that you are playing a song that makes you sad, but not in a way you can express with tears or your hands.
Step 5) Collect an animal. I chose to collect two. They are mainly there for comfort, but it is important that you kiss them on the head. I worry about this sometimes as I do not want them to think that I feel powerful over them, because no one can control something wild, and we are all wild.
Step 6) Move around with the objects you have. Light is an object. Remember this is a step, not a rule, so you can do it however you please. Movement is important, and so is touch. Touch everything you can because it makes you real.
Step 7) Wear something you love, and bless you if that is your own skin.
Step 8) Share this all. You may make noises, don't worry. You may not share this process with anyone for a while, or you may do it straight away. When you do, you will know that you are not scared anymore, and then you will know that you are healed.

Note: There will be tears.

Learning To Love You More (yes, still learning, learning, always learning.)


Make a flier of your day.

Learning To Love You More

To say that this is a flier that describes my whole day is unfair. I went for a walk in the hectic wind, made a salad and did a load of washing after I made this flier. I felt immediately better for completing real world tasks.

PS. I learned to love myself more a whole bunch of times on my old blog, but thinking about that makes me tired. This one was a dreg of a task. That turned out not to be a dreg. HEY YOU. Look again.

Man, I am actually going to die alone.

I narrate my life in my head everyday as I walk around. It is in third person, kind of like I am dead and I am narrating the life of someone who is not me. I feel real emotions, all of the time, too much, but the fact is my angel narrator feels them more. She over analyses. She makes things far, far more complex than they actually are, all of the time.

She also feels the frequent need to become involved in other people's lives. I will be trying to choose a bottle of wine, and I will be struggling because I get drunk more than what is socially acceptable, but knowing close to nothing about wine, I feel lost and sore in bottle shops. There will be two men next to me, one whom will have a voice that I think I could let envelope me, but whom is wearing construction gear which makes me afraid to look at him.

Construction comfort voice and his friend will be trying to choose wine, I will be paralysed, and my narrator will be cheering them on. 'You need something basic for a first date', she will say, 'something basic that won't make her vomit, or let on to the fact that you totally googled 'good date wine' on your I Phone before you came here. Get some Merlot. Everyone can drink Merlot, even when they are just pretending and actually hate it. ACTUALLY. You should get some champagne. It will totally get you laid.'

My narrator can really not be tamed. Being the sport she is, however, she will then direct her attention back to me: 'She picked up the cheapest bottle of whatever was white, and didn't have a font she detested. Flicking a glance at the man standing next to her, who could be cute if he was not in the construction field, she paid for the bottle and strode out with a triumphant kick. She was in her favourite shoes. They were ugly, but they had a stack heel and made her feel like she was the stompy yet sexy hero in some 90s slacker film. Sure she was going home to drink this bottle of wine alone, but only because she did not need anyone to share it with to enjoy it. She was alone. But she was alive.'


She will. But it will always be this.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Miranda July. Again.

On the weekend I flew to Sydney in order to hear Miranda July speak. I think I got this opportunity, as I am clearly a reverse oracle. I put it to the universe that I felt inspired and freed by her work as I will never cross paths with her. I was so certain of this, that I told my video camera, who told this here blog. I knew reverse psychology worked, but I was not so certain that it was powerful with the universe on a whole, and all of its spirit animals. Turns out I underestimate too many things, too much of the time.

Anyway, meeting one of your heroes is a funny thing. You cry and notice what shoes they are wearing and then you shake uncontrollably for a few minutes when they touch your arm. You take every word they say and tie it up with rope, and then you swallow it, and it gives you indigestion but that is OK because you don't ever what to forget that it is inside you anyway. She said 'Are you a writer?' and she said 'Really, life is horrific.' and she said 'STOP. TIME!' and she said 'Kate.' I don't think she would be able to remember any of the words that I said, but I know that I said 'This is a bit silly.' at least three times, which is not something I think I have ever said before and have certainly not said after last Sunday.

I have been really lonely since then, but I think that has nothing at all to do with Miranda July and more to do with my general paranoia that no one wants to be my actual friend. It is 3pm and I am still in bed, so I don't think I am helping myself break through this in anyway, but I can't help but sit here and feel poorly, and that life is actually horrific.

How I feel like I do not have any friends, except maybe the internet and definitely ache.

I feel a giant, bouldering weight upon my neck some days and today is one of those days.