I just searched for something on the PostSecret forum, and got this:
'Search found 2112 matches'
I would love to be able to live to the year 2112. And play the song at midnight. And sing it too.
'I stand atop a spiral stair, an oracle confronts me there, he leads me on lightyears away, through astral nights, galactic days...'
Sunday, 10 May 2009
Mein Hertz Brennt
I don't want life to be horribly boring and monotonous once I leave university. When I was little I used to have daydreams all the time about how I was, in some way, special; the people who put me here would eventually come looking for me and take me away on some kind of adventure. Perhaps this was because I only had two friends (who I didn't get to see all that often) until I was about 15... but this is not my main point.
I liked having the comfort of knowing that the only reason I didn't have many friends was because I was 'different' and 'special'. It went through phases; one day I was reincarnated royalty (think Pan's Labyrinth), the next I was a changeling (a faery left in the place of a real child that was stolen to pay a tithe to the devil). Bear in mind I was younger than ten years old when I used to entertain these kinds of fantasies.
Then came Harry Potter. And Harry Potter received what I had longed for since I first learned how to use my imagination; a ticket to the unknown, the INTERESTING and the exciting! It almost gave me hope. Almost. Alas, I was already past the age of eleven. I was twelve, and in year seven. Doomed to be a muggle for the rest of my life, I had missed the Hogwart's Express. It made my heart ache.
Onwards from these childish fantasies, to Brian Froud, the Lord of the Rings and the Bronte sisters. Brian Froud's art, especially his Lady Cottington series, made quite the impression on my young mind. Lady Cottington pressed fairies in a flower pressing book. *SPOILER* It also turned out that she was the daughter of a fairy herself. Cue my overactive imagination and my favourite daydream of being something other than a normal, boring human being. I wanted them to see me, and take a liking to me, and invite me in (you can't just barge in if they don't want you there, go and read this if you don't believe me), and I'd get to go and live in a place just like Lothlorien...
And that's where Lord of the Rings comes in. I saw the first movie, became obsessed and read all the books at least twice before the second film came out, decided that elves were real and one day they'd come and find me. I like to write (I know, I write badly, but it's OK because I only write for myself; I don't hold any hope that I'll become the next Tolkien or anything. But still, it's nice to daydream), and at the time, all of my stories were about people who grew up not knowing what they were, and then being rediscovered by the magical beings who threw them away, so to speak, because they realised that they needed them. The hero, upon discovering that they weren't really completely human at all, would then realise just why they had no friends and why they had always felt 'different' and lonely. Obviously these were inspired by my own desire to have such a thing happen to me, although it didn't occur to me at the time.
And then onto probably the last little delusion I used to entertain; Emily Bronte. I used to like to pretend, or rather hope?, that I was the reincarnated spirit of Emily Bronte. I loved the way she wrote (and still do); the erratic use of commas, the long sentences, the fact that she managed to produce something so violent and so imaginative, even though she had in fact lived quite a sheltered life. Also judging from the fact that she wrote so many stories about a make-believe Realm of Gondal, even into her adult life (my make-believe realm is called Gortha, and I made up the name before I ever heard of Gondal), suggested that my imagination may have been somewhat similar and, had we ever been alive to meet each other, we might have been friends. Or rather, I hoped this was the case. Daydreamed about it...
Now I just joke with people about how I'd love to be able to touch the couch on which she died, so that maybe she could partially posses me and, through me, she could write the sequel to Wuthering Heights.
Finally, I reach my conclusion. To summarise, I used to daydream all the time. I loved those daydreams. I used to get so involved with these daydreams, and other things to that have made up such large portions of my life, like Harry Potter and The Dark Crystal. But one day, I felt something snap. It was while watching one of the Harry Potter films, and I experienced the familiar heartache at not being a part of it, and also the excitement of being able to lose myself in something that was such a major part of my teenage years, when suddenly I thought, 'why am I excited? Why am I so heartbroken that I can't be there? I know deep down that none of it is real. I'm doomed to a boring human life of normality, surrounded by the mundane and celebrity obsessed proletarians'. And part of me went away for a very long time.
I tried to get it back, but then the daydream would become horribly practical. I'd get to the bit where they tell me who I am and how I am needed back where I belong, and then I start to doubt whither I should go or not. Well, I'd say, can my boyfriend come along? And if he comes, I can't forget my birth control, because what if I got pregnant? You don't have hospitals! I'd be terribly scared of dying! Also, can't you wait until I've finished my exams? I'd like to have the satisfaction of knowing that I've done them. And will I ever see my family again? What about my brothers? And my friends? Which clothes should I bring with me? What do you use instead of toothpaste? And so on and so forth. I suppose the fact that I'd worry about friends and family shows that I've matured. But even still, it saddened me greatly.
But now I am here. And ready to accept that even though these daydreams might never come true, it doesn't mean I have to turn them into something horrible and corrupted. I can write them down if I want to. They'll always be there, in my head. And that is a great comfort. No matter how monotonous things may get, I have my imagination. I also have the knowledge that not everyone in the world is horribly normal. There are strange people like me here too, it just took me a while to find them! The wait has definitely been worth it though; they have restored my faith in all things strange, and helped to remind me that if I don't want to be doomed to a monochrome life, I don't have to be! Like the survivors in a zombie holocaust - they don't die because they know that they want to stay alive; they can't die! I read a book with a main character like that not long ago... I can't remember which book it was and it's going to irritate me to no end. There is a man whose wife dies, and he manages to survive without her only because he knows that he can't die. It might have been Belgarath the Sorcerer, but something is telling me that it probably isn't...
Anyway, I think I have rambled enough for now.
Goodnight!
I liked having the comfort of knowing that the only reason I didn't have many friends was because I was 'different' and 'special'. It went through phases; one day I was reincarnated royalty (think Pan's Labyrinth), the next I was a changeling (a faery left in the place of a real child that was stolen to pay a tithe to the devil). Bear in mind I was younger than ten years old when I used to entertain these kinds of fantasies.
Then came Harry Potter. And Harry Potter received what I had longed for since I first learned how to use my imagination; a ticket to the unknown, the INTERESTING and the exciting! It almost gave me hope. Almost. Alas, I was already past the age of eleven. I was twelve, and in year seven. Doomed to be a muggle for the rest of my life, I had missed the Hogwart's Express. It made my heart ache.
Onwards from these childish fantasies, to Brian Froud, the Lord of the Rings and the Bronte sisters. Brian Froud's art, especially his Lady Cottington series, made quite the impression on my young mind. Lady Cottington pressed fairies in a flower pressing book. *SPOILER* It also turned out that she was the daughter of a fairy herself. Cue my overactive imagination and my favourite daydream of being something other than a normal, boring human being. I wanted them to see me, and take a liking to me, and invite me in (you can't just barge in if they don't want you there, go and read this if you don't believe me), and I'd get to go and live in a place just like Lothlorien...
And that's where Lord of the Rings comes in. I saw the first movie, became obsessed and read all the books at least twice before the second film came out, decided that elves were real and one day they'd come and find me. I like to write (I know, I write badly, but it's OK because I only write for myself; I don't hold any hope that I'll become the next Tolkien or anything. But still, it's nice to daydream), and at the time, all of my stories were about people who grew up not knowing what they were, and then being rediscovered by the magical beings who threw them away, so to speak, because they realised that they needed them. The hero, upon discovering that they weren't really completely human at all, would then realise just why they had no friends and why they had always felt 'different' and lonely. Obviously these were inspired by my own desire to have such a thing happen to me, although it didn't occur to me at the time.
And then onto probably the last little delusion I used to entertain; Emily Bronte. I used to like to pretend, or rather hope?, that I was the reincarnated spirit of Emily Bronte. I loved the way she wrote (and still do); the erratic use of commas, the long sentences, the fact that she managed to produce something so violent and so imaginative, even though she had in fact lived quite a sheltered life. Also judging from the fact that she wrote so many stories about a make-believe Realm of Gondal, even into her adult life (my make-believe realm is called Gortha, and I made up the name before I ever heard of Gondal), suggested that my imagination may have been somewhat similar and, had we ever been alive to meet each other, we might have been friends. Or rather, I hoped this was the case. Daydreamed about it...
Now I just joke with people about how I'd love to be able to touch the couch on which she died, so that maybe she could partially posses me and, through me, she could write the sequel to Wuthering Heights.
Finally, I reach my conclusion. To summarise, I used to daydream all the time. I loved those daydreams. I used to get so involved with these daydreams, and other things to that have made up such large portions of my life, like Harry Potter and The Dark Crystal. But one day, I felt something snap. It was while watching one of the Harry Potter films, and I experienced the familiar heartache at not being a part of it, and also the excitement of being able to lose myself in something that was such a major part of my teenage years, when suddenly I thought, 'why am I excited? Why am I so heartbroken that I can't be there? I know deep down that none of it is real. I'm doomed to a boring human life of normality, surrounded by the mundane and celebrity obsessed proletarians'. And part of me went away for a very long time.
I tried to get it back, but then the daydream would become horribly practical. I'd get to the bit where they tell me who I am and how I am needed back where I belong, and then I start to doubt whither I should go or not. Well, I'd say, can my boyfriend come along? And if he comes, I can't forget my birth control, because what if I got pregnant? You don't have hospitals! I'd be terribly scared of dying! Also, can't you wait until I've finished my exams? I'd like to have the satisfaction of knowing that I've done them. And will I ever see my family again? What about my brothers? And my friends? Which clothes should I bring with me? What do you use instead of toothpaste? And so on and so forth. I suppose the fact that I'd worry about friends and family shows that I've matured. But even still, it saddened me greatly.
But now I am here. And ready to accept that even though these daydreams might never come true, it doesn't mean I have to turn them into something horrible and corrupted. I can write them down if I want to. They'll always be there, in my head. And that is a great comfort. No matter how monotonous things may get, I have my imagination. I also have the knowledge that not everyone in the world is horribly normal. There are strange people like me here too, it just took me a while to find them! The wait has definitely been worth it though; they have restored my faith in all things strange, and helped to remind me that if I don't want to be doomed to a monochrome life, I don't have to be! Like the survivors in a zombie holocaust - they don't die because they know that they want to stay alive; they can't die! I read a book with a main character like that not long ago... I can't remember which book it was and it's going to irritate me to no end. There is a man whose wife dies, and he manages to survive without her only because he knows that he can't die. It might have been Belgarath the Sorcerer, but something is telling me that it probably isn't...
Anyway, I think I have rambled enough for now.
Goodnight!
Thursday, 7 May 2009
Days Like These
Are absolutely wonderful. We gave up on revision and it hadn't even been two hours, and instead wandered into town to look for Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (for my friend) and The Sandman Volume 2 (for me). Neither of which we found... HOWEVER, we DID find this most delightful little book of cute things! And so, with this delightful little treasure purchased (along with another book to add to my Edward Gorey collection ((it's pretty small, but it is a work in progress)) ), off we trotted to a shop which, to me, feels very out of place in its location. It's a little like finding a greasy spoon in the middle of a classy street. I shan't complain, however, since it is in this shop that they sell FELT. Just fifty pence for a sheet of sparkly felt in a variety of different colours! You can buy plain felt too, and we bought plenty of this also. And after I have finished writing here I am going to get my shoes on and go and teach my friend some simple stitching techniques so we can both make cute little lizards!
It also helps that the weather today has been perfect. Pleasantly warm, but not too warm, with a happy little breeze for when you've been walking in the sun for a bit too long. it also helps that I am currently living in one of the prettiest cities in the country. Although I can't really say that, because prettiness is objective, I suppose, and I haven't even seen every city in the country... But it widely regarded as one of the nicest places to live if you like old things, lots of green and pretty rivers (and hence pretty bridges!). I love the evening light on the trees on my walk back from campus! Campus is also very pretty in this weather. I especially love it in the summer when it rains and all the colours become incredibly vivid. Especially the greens of the trees!
I am in a fantastic mood today. These are good, because they remind me of how awesome everything is and how I should never take anything for granted. And to revel in everything! Also, my boyfriend will be visiting this weekend and if it stays as nice as it has been today, we can go and find shady places to sit in one of the many grassy areas in the centre of town and enjoy the surroundings and each others' company! for I sure do enjoy his company. Another one of those sane presences who are so precious to me. Speaking of sane, a friend of mine yesterday said that he really appreciates my 'sane' company. This made me incredibly happy. But back to this weekend and my friend who is also a boy and sleeps in my bed. It occurred to me as I was sat here, listening to music and enjoying the last of the tasty soup that I made yesterday... one of the reasons I love him so very much, and one of the main reasons that I can see us staying together for a very long time, is that I can easily imagine that in our twilight years, during the summer, we'll be sat on the porch, drinking lemonade or something to that effect, listening to Black Sabbath and A Perfect Circle. And I'll still be trying to persuade him to read some of my favourite books, while he'll still be trying to get me fluent in Warhammer. Hurrah!
Also if we ever had kids they'd be awesome and I'd make them love maths and science. I don't tend to think of this very much though. I just know that they'd be awesome.
And I think I'd better go now because it is eight already and I'm going to get thrown out of my friend's house at eleven after we've made some lizards.
It also helps that the weather today has been perfect. Pleasantly warm, but not too warm, with a happy little breeze for when you've been walking in the sun for a bit too long. it also helps that I am currently living in one of the prettiest cities in the country. Although I can't really say that, because prettiness is objective, I suppose, and I haven't even seen every city in the country... But it widely regarded as one of the nicest places to live if you like old things, lots of green and pretty rivers (and hence pretty bridges!). I love the evening light on the trees on my walk back from campus! Campus is also very pretty in this weather. I especially love it in the summer when it rains and all the colours become incredibly vivid. Especially the greens of the trees!
I am in a fantastic mood today. These are good, because they remind me of how awesome everything is and how I should never take anything for granted. And to revel in everything! Also, my boyfriend will be visiting this weekend and if it stays as nice as it has been today, we can go and find shady places to sit in one of the many grassy areas in the centre of town and enjoy the surroundings and each others' company! for I sure do enjoy his company. Another one of those sane presences who are so precious to me. Speaking of sane, a friend of mine yesterday said that he really appreciates my 'sane' company. This made me incredibly happy. But back to this weekend and my friend who is also a boy and sleeps in my bed. It occurred to me as I was sat here, listening to music and enjoying the last of the tasty soup that I made yesterday... one of the reasons I love him so very much, and one of the main reasons that I can see us staying together for a very long time, is that I can easily imagine that in our twilight years, during the summer, we'll be sat on the porch, drinking lemonade or something to that effect, listening to Black Sabbath and A Perfect Circle. And I'll still be trying to persuade him to read some of my favourite books, while he'll still be trying to get me fluent in Warhammer. Hurrah!
Also if we ever had kids they'd be awesome and I'd make them love maths and science. I don't tend to think of this very much though. I just know that they'd be awesome.
And I think I'd better go now because it is eight already and I'm going to get thrown out of my friend's house at eleven after we've made some lizards.
Wednesday, 6 May 2009
The Beautiful People
I know some wonderful people. Just like most other people do, I'm pretty sure. I'm also pretty sure that not one of them, perhaps with the exception of my significant other, knows just how much I treasure the fact that they are my friends. And if I did tell them, it might come across as a little creepy, since I'm not really the expressive type when it comes to those darned things known as feelings. I tend to come across as really quite cold. There are a few people, however, who can see past the icy surface; for example, a friend of mine often refers to me as 'the tsundere' (although it seems like this could be a bad thing, he said this with the nicest of intentions!).
Anyway, back to my original point. I don't know how to tell these people about how grateful I am for their presence. There have been times when I have been in need of a sane influence, and they have always been there, radiating sanity and general friendliness, and always seeming so genuinely happy to be in my company! And this is a big thing for me, or rather, it was when it first started to happen, because I had always just assumed that I'm not really likable and most people just tolerated me out of sympathy (this sounds horribly teenage angst-y, as do a lot of the other things I could write about from the 'dark days', but after having a flick through this book I feel a bit better about how ridiculous some of these things sound when I write them down).
Turns out, people do genuinely enjoy being around me sometimes. And if they ever need me, I shall try my best to be there for them like they have been for me, as cheesy as it sounds! But I'm not likely to write this anywhere else.
I love you guys.
Anyway, back to my original point. I don't know how to tell these people about how grateful I am for their presence. There have been times when I have been in need of a sane influence, and they have always been there, radiating sanity and general friendliness, and always seeming so genuinely happy to be in my company! And this is a big thing for me, or rather, it was when it first started to happen, because I had always just assumed that I'm not really likable and most people just tolerated me out of sympathy (this sounds horribly teenage angst-y, as do a lot of the other things I could write about from the 'dark days', but after having a flick through this book I feel a bit better about how ridiculous some of these things sound when I write them down).
Turns out, people do genuinely enjoy being around me sometimes. And if they ever need me, I shall try my best to be there for them like they have been for me, as cheesy as it sounds! But I'm not likely to write this anywhere else.
I love you guys.
Thursday, 30 April 2009
P.S.
I didn't come up with the Pokemon similie all by myself. I had to ask a good friend who is learn'ed in these things for the name of 'Metapod' because I couldn't remember it. I also asked their opinion on the best Pokemon ever, and they confirmed my choice of Mewtwo.
BYE.
BYE.
By Way of An Introduction
Hello. I've been wanting to do a proper one of these blog things for quite some time. I like to read other people's blogs. So, in a sense, I am a bit of a lurker. First and foremost, let me apologise for my terrible writings; I am incredibly out of practise when it comes to 'da grammarz', and my vocabulary has somewhat diminished of recent. You see, I just emerged from a very dark place that lasted for approximately four years. Thank goodness I'm on a four year course and can enjoy the next two years without feeling sad and guilty and paranoid!
I suppose I still do get attacks of the paranoia, but I've started to override these thoughts with THE HAPPY BIT OF MY MINDZ. I got incredibly fed up with feeling sorry for myself all the time, thinking of myself as something quite worthless, and decided instead to overwrite all of my bad thinking habits with good ones. I'm a bit like a Pokemon... if it was possible for a Metapod to spontaneously evolve into a Mewtwo. My personal favourite was Arcanine, but don't go thinking I'm a true geek, because I'm really not. I only played it a couple of times, and couldn't get into it. At all. It moved too slowly and was incredibly repetitive. The original Rayman. Now THAT is a game. Along with Pandemonium! I may at some point write a separate blog post for each of those games. And the original Spyro the Dragon. Although I seem to have gone way off the point here. You know what is pretty disgusting? I haven't yet introduced the paragraph. I should rectify this...
And I just did! Also, concerning Pokemon, I never collected the cards as a matter of principle after my brother stole £10 out of my babysitting wages to buy some Pokemon cards from one the children he used to play with. Also, I was always made to feel guilty when I just bought the illustrated cards (the ones that weren't used for playing with, but just had pictures of the different Pokemon) because they were a waste of money. I was very little. Little people are ALLOWED to want things that might be considered a waste of money. But this is another story for another post.
Anyway, I think this is plenty big enough for my first post. I'll write more as the fancy takes me!
You stay Classy, Blogspot. And thanks for stopping by!
I suppose I still do get attacks of the paranoia, but I've started to override these thoughts with THE HAPPY BIT OF MY MINDZ. I got incredibly fed up with feeling sorry for myself all the time, thinking of myself as something quite worthless, and decided instead to overwrite all of my bad thinking habits with good ones. I'm a bit like a Pokemon... if it was possible for a Metapod to spontaneously evolve into a Mewtwo. My personal favourite was Arcanine, but don't go thinking I'm a true geek, because I'm really not. I only played it a couple of times, and couldn't get into it. At all. It moved too slowly and was incredibly repetitive. The original Rayman. Now THAT is a game. Along with Pandemonium! I may at some point write a separate blog post for each of those games. And the original Spyro the Dragon. Although I seem to have gone way off the point here. You know what is pretty disgusting? I haven't yet introduced the paragraph. I should rectify this...
And I just did! Also, concerning Pokemon, I never collected the cards as a matter of principle after my brother stole £10 out of my babysitting wages to buy some Pokemon cards from one the children he used to play with. Also, I was always made to feel guilty when I just bought the illustrated cards (the ones that weren't used for playing with, but just had pictures of the different Pokemon) because they were a waste of money. I was very little. Little people are ALLOWED to want things that might be considered a waste of money. But this is another story for another post.
Anyway, I think this is plenty big enough for my first post. I'll write more as the fancy takes me!
You stay Classy, Blogspot. And thanks for stopping by!
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