Only after washing the dishes and scrubbing the pot which I burned, and going outside and having a smoke, and drinking a cup and a bit of wine - am I starting to feel better. More productive, or proactive.
I don't even know if I have time to write. "have time".
I'm cooking onions, and dreaming of spare time. Free time. no school time. It's always a jungle. What's the point in being in Halifax, and paying for rent, if I am not in school? But all I want to do is produce, but not always in school. It's so contrived. Everything is. "It's so contrived". Omg, can you hear me.
I'm going to read some FEMAHIS, I SWEAR, after I eat a bit. After I drink a bit. But most of all, after I sit outside and smoke a cigarette, and write out my drawing class ideas. Tomorrow, I would like to have produced a book that I will use for one of the assignments. It will be on going, so that will be cool. A "sketchbook" idea I guess.
A collection of drawings, but with prints. But how thick? How much will I fill? Not a lot. Only some.
My assignment I just handed in - sucked. I mean, sure it had some good things, but no effort. It had 3/5 of the effort necessary. Which is why I'm going to write out the ideas that I had for the class - in about twenty minutes.
The whole world is fucked.
There's not enough me to be separate, or to give enough attention to different peoples and things and myself, and tasks, and moods, and nothing. Less is more, truly.
I felt like grieving a bit for Dean a couple days ago. After I had first heard of his intentions. But then I stopped myself, and questioned why. Why do I feel like I need to/or should grieve. What is grieving? I live the loss of Mike, empathetically, theoretically, and metaphorically, or whatever word that fits, but imagining Olivia dead. That's a bit .. heavy. The feeling. The imagination. Oh my gosh, maybe I can draw it out as one of my assignments. (AH!) While she was here she was talking, and then in captions to what she was saying, my way of understanding was imagining her dead. And then it was like... holding back that imagination because I started to feel heavy in my chest.
And then I'm wondering my validity of being sad about Dean. There are many variables, filters in this.. topic. The concept of death. Of potentially forever not seeing again a person. A special person. A loss of interaction. A dependancy on memory. A sacredness. A faith. A many things that I dare not get into, because I don't even know, and I got onions on the stove. Fuck, I'm just making excuses because I do not know.
I feel proud, and like a loud mouth. Because walking home today I bumped into two kids from school, and being all present in this interaction, confident, or wanting to make an impression, I use the only great story I've learned of in the recent past, and I say, "a friend of a friend knelt down in front of a train." I feel guilty for saying it. Because it might be insensitive. But it's something that I'm not acknowledging perhaps because I'm in school. There's still routine there. Which, ever more so now seems mundane. This reality, the Dean reality, as a concept, flutters into my own, and others, for shure. And it's something that can't be not acknowledged. Sometimes, things can't be swept under the rug.
So the thing at hand is I guess - how to combine. Genuinely.
For instance, in order for me to hang out with friends and still go to school, is to draw my friends for my school assignments. And do it all well. It's not necessarily spreading oneself thin, it's more like using things to compliment each other. Or at least, this is how I see it.
So how do I compliment the plurality of realities that are fluctuating into this routine of mine.
Life, the process of balancing.
Do I feed off of this drama?
While peeing an hour ago, I was wondering - why do I hang out with Shaun? Do I really love him? Why am I with certain people? Is it because it is what is near and opportune? Is it merely because I'd rather not be with out them? So it's in comparison of what I do not want to be, that I "want" what is here. Is this.. calculated happiness? Then what is true happiness? What is true joy? Or are these concepts in themselves.. debatable. Well yeah. Fuck. Do I want to have a best friend, because life without a confidant is so frightening, that I better find that best friend and let them know, it's fear of the dark in which I appreciate their light. Is their light fake? Do I project light, ('light') onto people? Do we see what we want to see in people?
Life lived through filters.
Shure, it's a richer more enjoyable life spent with certain people, that in the idea of not having what they offer, in whatever it is that they offer - that I do look and search and hold onto them forever more tenaciously. The fear of heights makes me grip more firmly on to the rope from which I dangle.
Enough of these .. analogies.
What is genuine? Seriously, what is genuine? Not an object, but, the idea. What is genuine? What is , what IS, real? Is my life separate from the lives of every one else?
Does genuine exist? Or is everything genuine, and real, in as much as it is unreal.
Maybe it's unreal at how real things can be. Or
Just as everything is happening, it must be. It just.. is.
Being.
Being begin being begin being. I am beginning to be. I am begging to be. I am in the beginning of being. I am being. I be. I be I be I be profin, this will give anyone a headache.
In as much as I do not know what Love is, I know that things are happening that I do not know. And forever reason, maybe it's just that I materially exist, and metaphysically exist, but the currents in this sea/wave/ocean of life do move me. When you move, I move. When you splash, I get hit with specks of water. You cause reactions on to me.
It is never over used, because there's not a limit to it - but I love you. In fear of losing what is so great, I am just always glad to have met you. For you to have made an impression onto me.
My favourite advice from my father, "We'll cross that bridge when we get there."
Right on. Food now.
Lol. Fire alarm went off - and slightly burned the onions. Whatever - didn't want perfection anyways. BECAUSE PERFECTION.. is whenever you're ready to see and accept it.
