I really don't understand how someone can be so arrogant they pretend to be the "perfect/caring type of father and husband" while they've been lying to their family for years.
My father keeps pretending he's interested in what I do and what I like, but considering all I know I can't believe him even the nose between his eyes.
How shameless and daring can one be? And how should I tell him how much I despise him?
He's been "doing all this just for my sake" for all these years and he's ruined my life. Maybe if he stopped doing anything for me, my life would get a little "nicer" (what a stupid word).
I'm so empty that creating any more words would kill me.
2008-06-30
2008-06-29
Confused
I really don't know how to act in the light of the newest information I have. It's all becoming more dreadful than I'd ever expected.
In this state I can't help myself asking the oldest question of the world: "WHY?"
And what's more, I've realized that what I know is only the top of a very very huge iceberg.
My father is not only a lunatic (= completely mad) but he's also a liar (I think these two facts must be somehow connected).
He's the most selfish, aggressive, stupid, annoying, deceitful... (I think that I could continue without end... And there's no language with such broad vocabulary it would be able to explain how I feel about him.)... FUCKING (can I use it in this sense?) "human" (?) being I've ever met.
And if you believe in destiny, he's even a future murderer? (No, no, no, please, God, don't let him...)
I've stopped believing there's anything good about this life.
In this state I can't help myself asking the oldest question of the world: "WHY?"
And what's more, I've realized that what I know is only the top of a very very huge iceberg.
My father is not only a lunatic (= completely mad) but he's also a liar (I think these two facts must be somehow connected).
He's the most selfish, aggressive, stupid, annoying, deceitful... (I think that I could continue without end... And there's no language with such broad vocabulary it would be able to explain how I feel about him.)... FUCKING (can I use it in this sense?) "human" (?) being I've ever met.
And if you believe in destiny, he's even a future murderer? (No, no, no, please, God, don't let him...)
I've stopped believing there's anything good about this life.
2008-06-28
Dedicated to...
When you're completely lost, call your (ex) best friend. It may not help you but at least you'll make them a little happier for a while. And maybe even your life will become a little happier when you make someone else a little happy.
Our dog
I really admire our dog's way of life. If I had the chance to choose someone else's life, I would choose his. I could sleep whenever I'd like to. There'd always be someone to feed me. Everyone would be extremely glad to stroke me, pet me, caress me... I would be the ruler of my own masters. I would be absolutely free to go wherever I'd want. Females would fight to become my mistresses. The only thing that would matter to me would be the games I could play.
But unfortunately I was born as a human girl and I have to deal with it. Hmmm...
But unfortunately I was born as a human girl and I have to deal with it. Hmmm...
2008-06-27
My relatives
My grandma is getting too old and she's no longer who she used to be.
My father cares for anyone except for his own family.
My mother seems to hate her life.
And I'm a little too depressed to be able to change the way their lives go.
L'insoutenable légèreté de l'être:
L'homme ne peut jamais savoir ce qu'il faut vouloir car il n'a qu'une vie et il ne peut ni la comparer à des vies antérieures ni la rectifier dans des vies ultérieures.
Il n'existe aucun moyen de vérifier quelle décision est la bonne car il n'existe aucune comparaison. Tout est vécu tout de suite pour la première fois et sans préparation. Comme si un acteur entrait en scène sans avoir jamais répété. Mais que peut valoir la vie, si la première répétition de la vie est déjà la vie même?
My father cares for anyone except for his own family.
My mother seems to hate her life.
And I'm a little too depressed to be able to change the way their lives go.
L'insoutenable légèreté de l'être:
L'homme ne peut jamais savoir ce qu'il faut vouloir car il n'a qu'une vie et il ne peut ni la comparer à des vies antérieures ni la rectifier dans des vies ultérieures.
Il n'existe aucun moyen de vérifier quelle décision est la bonne car il n'existe aucune comparaison. Tout est vécu tout de suite pour la première fois et sans préparation. Comme si un acteur entrait en scène sans avoir jamais répété. Mais que peut valoir la vie, si la première répétition de la vie est déjà la vie même?
2008-06-26
Thursday night
I feel so sorry for my mum. I always thought she was a stoic. Now I think she's rather desperate. And I absolutely understand. But I can't do anything to help her. And that makes also me rather desperate. Fuck.
My father always asks questions. Or more precisely, he always says something and wants us to react. No one knows how to react properly. And my mum is rather tired of her life so she's stopped answering. Instead of that she's started using cynical remarks which makes my father mad, but as she said, nothing can balance how much she is cross with him.
And there's no solution. Really none. I wonder how this will finish. And who'll be the first victim (I mean the first one to die) in this dispute.
I'm sorry but I'm too drunk to think.
My father always asks questions. Or more precisely, he always says something and wants us to react. No one knows how to react properly. And my mum is rather tired of her life so she's stopped answering. Instead of that she's started using cynical remarks which makes my father mad, but as she said, nothing can balance how much she is cross with him.
And there's no solution. Really none. I wonder how this will finish. And who'll be the first victim (I mean the first one to die) in this dispute.
I'm sorry but I'm too drunk to think.
2008-06-25
Huh...
I had never experienced such a dreadful feeling in my life before the incident two hours ago.
I'm talking about that storm, tornado or whatever it was. I was just on my way home (from where my parents live) and from the bus stop I saw the almost incredibly black sky, which threatened me so much I decided to return home (= my parents' home) and not to continue to the centre of the storm. Unfortunately it took me longer to decide than it would be proper in such situation. I ran home well aware that each second is more than important (for my life?). Halfway to my parents' flat the storm got me. At that moment it was like the end of the world. The strong wind raised the dust from the pavement and blew it right into my eyes. In combination with the heavy drops of rain my eyes were suddenly full of mud. I remembered faintly that you shouldn't run in case of a storm. But I felt that the longer I stayed outside the less chance I had. I coudn't anticipate how strong the wind would become and at the moment I couldn't really be sure it wasn't a tornado, as I had never experienced it.
I arrived home almost dead. I couldn't breathe at all, as I'm not used to running (not in the last few months). I had to use the lift to get to the 8th floor and in the last seconds I felt it might have fall down. There was terrible noise in the whole building. When I finally opened the door of my parents' flat, I felt such a relief I can't describe it.
Note (two hours after the storm):
My mother went on the balcony and found there a bed sheet, which doesn't belong to us. She said she had seen some stuff flying in the air during the storm but not this big:o). A little mysterious end of tonight's story.
I'm talking about that storm, tornado or whatever it was. I was just on my way home (from where my parents live) and from the bus stop I saw the almost incredibly black sky, which threatened me so much I decided to return home (= my parents' home) and not to continue to the centre of the storm. Unfortunately it took me longer to decide than it would be proper in such situation. I ran home well aware that each second is more than important (for my life?). Halfway to my parents' flat the storm got me. At that moment it was like the end of the world. The strong wind raised the dust from the pavement and blew it right into my eyes. In combination with the heavy drops of rain my eyes were suddenly full of mud. I remembered faintly that you shouldn't run in case of a storm. But I felt that the longer I stayed outside the less chance I had. I coudn't anticipate how strong the wind would become and at the moment I couldn't really be sure it wasn't a tornado, as I had never experienced it.
I arrived home almost dead. I couldn't breathe at all, as I'm not used to running (not in the last few months). I had to use the lift to get to the 8th floor and in the last seconds I felt it might have fall down. There was terrible noise in the whole building. When I finally opened the door of my parents' flat, I felt such a relief I can't describe it.
Note (two hours after the storm):
My mother went on the balcony and found there a bed sheet, which doesn't belong to us. She said she had seen some stuff flying in the air during the storm but not this big:o). A little mysterious end of tonight's story.
The unbearable lightness of being
When I was in Prague on Monday I visited the greatest bookshop there and just couldn't resist the enormous temptation to buy Milan Kundera's book in French.
And so I have it. I think it would be quite useful now to have something to help me with my life. Don't know if this book is capable of it but I'm definitely looking forward to reading it in one of the most beautiful languages in the world. Even Kundera said that this translation of his masterpiece was beautiful.
I'll share some bits with the blog when I approach them.
And maybe I'll taste "L'insoutenable légèreté de l'être".
And so I have it. I think it would be quite useful now to have something to help me with my life. Don't know if this book is capable of it but I'm definitely looking forward to reading it in one of the most beautiful languages in the world. Even Kundera said that this translation of his masterpiece was beautiful.
I'll share some bits with the blog when I approach them.
And maybe I'll taste "L'insoutenable légèreté de l'être".
2008-06-24
Hangover
I'm suffering from a terrible hangover. And what's more, I'm suffering from a terrible moral hangover. Shit.
Yesterday I got rather drunk in Prague with my cousin. After several glasses of wine two men in their 40s joined us (at least one of them apparently knew my cousin). They ordered a bottle of wine (and later another bottle, or maybe still another - the only detail I'm not sure about). And they wanted "something". I kissed both of them. Then my "moral me" woke up and from that time on there was nothing more. My cousin was more "crazy" than me... But that is another story.
Now I'm sick. But maybe more because of alcohol than my immoral act... Hmmm, immoral. Don't know.
As I was still a bit drunk when I arrived home, I said everything to my boyfriend. And to my enormous surprise, there was no argument, no shouting, no slap, no break up. I sometimes really don't understand him.
But he said he'd take his revenge on me when he's forty. That he will also go to a pub and kiss two twenties. Hmmm...
Yesterday I got rather drunk in Prague with my cousin. After several glasses of wine two men in their 40s joined us (at least one of them apparently knew my cousin). They ordered a bottle of wine (and later another bottle, or maybe still another - the only detail I'm not sure about). And they wanted "something". I kissed both of them. Then my "moral me" woke up and from that time on there was nothing more. My cousin was more "crazy" than me... But that is another story.
Now I'm sick. But maybe more because of alcohol than my immoral act... Hmmm, immoral. Don't know.
As I was still a bit drunk when I arrived home, I said everything to my boyfriend. And to my enormous surprise, there was no argument, no shouting, no slap, no break up. I sometimes really don't understand him.
But he said he'd take his revenge on me when he's forty. That he will also go to a pub and kiss two twenties. Hmmm...
2008-06-23
Beginning of a new "beautiful" day
It has started already. This night's dream was about my father going mad about me and his car and everything - just going mad (my first rather realistic dream in a few months).
After I had put some butter on a roll, the roll slipped out of my head and in an attempt to catch it I produced a very complicated manoeuvre, after which the butter wasn't on the carpet but on my hand and my hair. Nothing I would necessarily need to stay alive.
I'm going to Prague in a few hours and don't know what clothes to put on. I should look at least a little officially but I'm afraid that since the weather forecast has been talking about rainstorms for the last two days, my trip to Prague will be rather wet. And as I'm not planning to carry a backpack with reserve clothes and shoes, I'll have to somehow survive.
(And I have skipped the fact that today I'll be mad as a wet hen (yes, I will - if the rain comes) for the stupid mistake I did in the scio competition... Whatever.)
After I had put some butter on a roll, the roll slipped out of my head and in an attempt to catch it I produced a very complicated manoeuvre, after which the butter wasn't on the carpet but on my hand and my hair. Nothing I would necessarily need to stay alive.
I'm going to Prague in a few hours and don't know what clothes to put on. I should look at least a little officially but I'm afraid that since the weather forecast has been talking about rainstorms for the last two days, my trip to Prague will be rather wet. And as I'm not planning to carry a backpack with reserve clothes and shoes, I'll have to somehow survive.
(And I have skipped the fact that today I'll be mad as a wet hen (yes, I will - if the rain comes) for the stupid mistake I did in the scio competition... Whatever.)
2008-06-22
Me and Dream-books
I hope that this story would sound as good in English as it does in Czech (I mean the language of the dream-books, which will be very difficult to translate concerning some of its parts).
Today I've opened our old transcribed Egyptian dream-book after a very long time. But this time I had a really good reason, as the dream I had last night was rather... hmmm, let's say interesting.
In the dream I looked out of the window onto our balcony (the balcony in my parents' flat) and saw there a hippopotamus (I think it was a Liberian hippo, as the normal-size one wouldn't probably get into our balcony) hanging on a rope (he had the rope tied around his waste). I suppose he might have been trying to commit suicide or something. Or maybe someone was trying to hang him (who knows?).
However, this didn't last long, as he was soon lying on the tiles (maybe he was too heavy for the rope), looking rather hungry. In the dream I had two main concerns: 1) to give him something to eat (so that he won't eat us? now I think about it, I suppose that hippos are vegetarians) and 2) to call the zoo. And I had a problem with both: 1) my mother was rather reluctant when I suggested we should feed the hippo (I still don't know why) and 2) the phone book provided us with strange telephone numbers containing both numbers and letters, which (surprisingly) didn't work. The hippopotamus became quite angry and then suddenly he was in our living room trying to... what? kill me?... and then I suddenly realized that in fact it wasn't a hippo at all, but my boyfriend enchanted to look like a hippo. And I kept trying to persuade him that it wouldn't be a wise idea to kill me, as he loves me...
That's all I remember.
And now the results of my research in our dream-book:
Today I've opened our old transcribed Egyptian dream-book after a very long time. But this time I had a really good reason, as the dream I had last night was rather... hmmm, let's say interesting.
In the dream I looked out of the window onto our balcony (the balcony in my parents' flat) and saw there a hippopotamus (I think it was a Liberian hippo, as the normal-size one wouldn't probably get into our balcony) hanging on a rope (he had the rope tied around his waste). I suppose he might have been trying to commit suicide or something. Or maybe someone was trying to hang him (who knows?).
However, this didn't last long, as he was soon lying on the tiles (maybe he was too heavy for the rope), looking rather hungry. In the dream I had two main concerns: 1) to give him something to eat (so that he won't eat us? now I think about it, I suppose that hippos are vegetarians) and 2) to call the zoo. And I had a problem with both: 1) my mother was rather reluctant when I suggested we should feed the hippo (I still don't know why) and 2) the phone book provided us with strange telephone numbers containing both numbers and letters, which (surprisingly) didn't work. The hippopotamus became quite angry and then suddenly he was in our living room trying to... what? kill me?... and then I suddenly realized that in fact it wasn't a hippo at all, but my boyfriend enchanted to look like a hippo. And I kept trying to persuade him that it wouldn't be a wise idea to kill me, as he loves me...
That's all I remember.
And now the results of my research in our dream-book:
- no hippo in the Egyptian dream-book (maybe there were no hippos in ancient Egypt)
- a mad/angry animal = you overcome a danger
So I tried the dream-books online and there was only one with an entry about hippos. And this is the translation of what stood there:
"A hippopotamus symbolizes instincts hidden just under the surface of
consciousness, instincts moving around the boundary between consciousness and
subconsciousness of the person having the dream; see also cattle."
I feel I'm not yet ready to speculate about the meaning of this.
So let's present my boyfriend's recent dream:
He was in a well and some people high above through a man down the well. But he was still alive when he hit the bottom, so my boyfriend killed him but there was no corpse. No man. No dead body. It made a strong impression on my boyfriend (apparently), so he asked me to look it up in my dream-book. And here are the results combined with the results of my dream:
- to kill = there will be a wedding soon
- a murderer = someone wants to seduce you
- a mad/angry animal = you overcome a danger
- a balcony - to stand on it = your position is uncertain
My version of the possible story:
There is a girl who wants to seduce my boyfriend and probably "get pregnant" so that he would have to marry her. This will pose a strong threat on our relationship but in the end the truth will reveal itself and we will realize she isn't pregnant at all; just pretending it. The wedding will be cancelled and we will live happily ever after.
What do you think?
2008-06-21
Spiritual Masochism
I really didn't know how to translate this... It's a state of mind when you terribly long for being hurt on your soul. My biggest problem (apart from having no imagination, refusing to eat, being hysterical, being extremely lazy and doing stupid mistakes in everything I do).
Being a "spiritual masochist" makes my life more difficult but on the other hand it assures me that I'm still alive. Being desperate brings me to life again. As someone said, "I'm unhappy because it's the only way for me to be happy". Although I would never use the word "happy" or "unhappy" when talking about myself. It's not about being happy. It's just about being alive. And as long as I'm able to feel I live. Unfortunately I need really strong emotions to prove that. And despair is a strong emotion.
I heard that it should be love instead of despair that makes you "happy" (= alive). But haven't you noticed how close to each other they are? Love and despair. Even "lucky" love (how would you name that in English?) turns into despair in me. I'm crazy, I know. But at least I don't deny it. I'm well aware of my diagnosis. In fact no doctor would be able to state it better than I do.
I know that I'm a "spiritual masochist". But I won't do anything to fight against it. This is also a part of "spiritual masochism". You'll never do anything to make you feel better. Just because you don't want to. Just because you're a "spiritual masochist". It's like a vicious circle.
Maybe there are too many vicious circles in my life...
Being a "spiritual masochist" makes my life more difficult but on the other hand it assures me that I'm still alive. Being desperate brings me to life again. As someone said, "I'm unhappy because it's the only way for me to be happy". Although I would never use the word "happy" or "unhappy" when talking about myself. It's not about being happy. It's just about being alive. And as long as I'm able to feel I live. Unfortunately I need really strong emotions to prove that. And despair is a strong emotion.
I heard that it should be love instead of despair that makes you "happy" (= alive). But haven't you noticed how close to each other they are? Love and despair. Even "lucky" love (how would you name that in English?) turns into despair in me. I'm crazy, I know. But at least I don't deny it. I'm well aware of my diagnosis. In fact no doctor would be able to state it better than I do.
I know that I'm a "spiritual masochist". But I won't do anything to fight against it. This is also a part of "spiritual masochism". You'll never do anything to make you feel better. Just because you don't want to. Just because you're a "spiritual masochist". It's like a vicious circle.
Maybe there are too many vicious circles in my life...
I'll never forget...
"Love Coldplay..." - these were his last words for a very long time... And then we met again and it started again. More complicated than ever before. But I'm different... Or at least hope so:o). And he'll never hurt me again... Because I have Coldplay:o). And this is one of my favourite songs...
"Look at the stars, look how they shine for you..."
2008-06-20
How I met... my boyfriend
It was on a hot sunny day... Ok, let's stop this.
I met him on the bus. I was on the way to my dancing course, he had just visited his brother and was on his way home. I suppose I looked rather sad (I was depressed, as usually:o) )... All I knew about him when I saw him for the first time was that he was small (much smaller than me - but I'm 182, so almost everybody is smaller than me:o) ) and that he was the kind of boy who would never go out with a girl like me.
Recently he has confessed to me that he was stoned at the time we met (not a surprise as his brother had a little marihuana "garden" on the balcony). I suppose that under different circumstances he would never want to get to know me...
I was desperately in love with a boy who looked at that time like he didn't want me anymore (although later I found out that maybe the feeling was mutual... but we were just not able to get through the "barrier" between us). He was stuck in a relationship with a girl who had just had sex with another man but breaking relationships had never been his strong point. (She later changed her mind and "decided" that she loved him and wanted him back - selfish cow.)
So there we were. On the bus. From time to time I looked at him and realized he was looking at me... Ten minutes. Then I got off the bus and he stayed. The seconds when we were looking at each other until the bus closed the door seemed to last forever. But then off he went (along with the bus). "So nothing happened... Again..." - that was what I thought.
He got off the bus on the next stop. Just because of me. But I wasn't sure... It was so strange. We went slowly towards each other, prepared to pretend we went the same direction just by chance... And then we stopped with only one meter left between us. We said "hello" and thus it began... How easy:o).
I met him on the bus. I was on the way to my dancing course, he had just visited his brother and was on his way home. I suppose I looked rather sad (I was depressed, as usually:o) )... All I knew about him when I saw him for the first time was that he was small (much smaller than me - but I'm 182, so almost everybody is smaller than me:o) ) and that he was the kind of boy who would never go out with a girl like me.
Recently he has confessed to me that he was stoned at the time we met (not a surprise as his brother had a little marihuana "garden" on the balcony). I suppose that under different circumstances he would never want to get to know me...
I was desperately in love with a boy who looked at that time like he didn't want me anymore (although later I found out that maybe the feeling was mutual... but we were just not able to get through the "barrier" between us). He was stuck in a relationship with a girl who had just had sex with another man but breaking relationships had never been his strong point. (She later changed her mind and "decided" that she loved him and wanted him back - selfish cow.)
So there we were. On the bus. From time to time I looked at him and realized he was looking at me... Ten minutes. Then I got off the bus and he stayed. The seconds when we were looking at each other until the bus closed the door seemed to last forever. But then off he went (along with the bus). "So nothing happened... Again..." - that was what I thought.
He got off the bus on the next stop. Just because of me. But I wasn't sure... It was so strange. We went slowly towards each other, prepared to pretend we went the same direction just by chance... And then we stopped with only one meter left between us. We said "hello" and thus it began... How easy:o).
2008-06-19
An Idea (whatever)
I'm just about to do something crazy. Like...
- Go to China as a back-packer (a little unrealistic)
- Dance naked in the rain (not that there's any outside)
- Get drunk till I'm so sick I can't even move (however, I'm rather short of money)
- Write a book (but there's nothing to write about - except for my personal misery)
- Get drunk with ***** and have sex with him (a tempting but unrealistic idea)
- Dance dressed in the rain (it wouldn't be much fun dancing alone)
- Dance dressed with ***** even if it doesn't rain (why are there moments I can't stop thinking about him?)
- Dance dressed with my boyfriend in the middle of the night on the main square (he's not enough crazy for that now that he doesn't smoke pot any more)
- Learn to play billiard (I would have to be very drunk for that - and see point 3)
- Get married (and there's already someone who would like to marry me - but that's a really really stupid idea)
But I will just listen to Coldplay and sink into the cynical mood I'm already in.
2008-06-18
Me and Food
Somehow I've been a sort of "afraid" recently to write anything about my father. Maybe it's just that the things aren't going that bad just now and I don't want to recall them. At least not if I don't really have to. So I pick up little subjects quite meaningful for me and try to postpone the dread coming on me whenever I think about my family situation as far as possible.
Today I've chosen food. My relationship to food was the one which brought me (finally) to the psychiatrist two years ago (no, three... yes, three years ago). It wasn't really anorexia nervosa, although calling it so wouldn't be quite far from the truth either. Now I think about it it wasn't anorexia at all. It was just the depression that made me lose my appetite... I was suddenly so hollow... I remember spending the first three or four hours in the morning just sitting in the kitchen looking at the wall and being silent. One meal a day had to be enough, as I didn't have any strength to get anything more into my body.
I have never understood people trying to lose weight. It's almost impossible for most of them as their appetite is so huge they just cannot resist. For me it's no problem to overcome my hunger. It's enough to feel hungry for more than one hour and then the hunger just disappears. It's crazy but that's how it goes. That's why I was too thin for my trousers after having them at home for only one day. I don't need to eat. And if I need to, I can overcome it. And still I can't imagine my life without food. I'm mad about food. There is no bigger joy for me than to order a meal in a restaurant or tavern (there's one I like especially, as the portions are almost three times as large as those in "ordinary" restaurants) and than eat everything (although people sometimes look at me as if it was the eighth wonder - when someone with my figure puts down his throat so much food in about half an hour). I often eat till I'm completely sick (although I never vomit - only when I'm drunk - that's the important exception).
Sometimes I'm the complete opposite. For example when there's something I'm almost dying for (to eat). I hear a tiny "click" in my head and I just can't and won't and... I watch the other person eating all of it dying of jealousy (and other feelings I just can't describe) and won't take anything, even if I were to die of hunger. And I can't tell anyone. It's just such a "personal matter".
Writing it here might help me next time to change my eating habits. Although I'm not sure that my life would be worth it without me tormenting myself all the time. Thus I would lose the sense of being alive. But about that topic... Next time.
Today I've chosen food. My relationship to food was the one which brought me (finally) to the psychiatrist two years ago (no, three... yes, three years ago). It wasn't really anorexia nervosa, although calling it so wouldn't be quite far from the truth either. Now I think about it it wasn't anorexia at all. It was just the depression that made me lose my appetite... I was suddenly so hollow... I remember spending the first three or four hours in the morning just sitting in the kitchen looking at the wall and being silent. One meal a day had to be enough, as I didn't have any strength to get anything more into my body.
I have never understood people trying to lose weight. It's almost impossible for most of them as their appetite is so huge they just cannot resist. For me it's no problem to overcome my hunger. It's enough to feel hungry for more than one hour and then the hunger just disappears. It's crazy but that's how it goes. That's why I was too thin for my trousers after having them at home for only one day. I don't need to eat. And if I need to, I can overcome it. And still I can't imagine my life without food. I'm mad about food. There is no bigger joy for me than to order a meal in a restaurant or tavern (there's one I like especially, as the portions are almost three times as large as those in "ordinary" restaurants) and than eat everything (although people sometimes look at me as if it was the eighth wonder - when someone with my figure puts down his throat so much food in about half an hour). I often eat till I'm completely sick (although I never vomit - only when I'm drunk - that's the important exception).
Sometimes I'm the complete opposite. For example when there's something I'm almost dying for (to eat). I hear a tiny "click" in my head and I just can't and won't and... I watch the other person eating all of it dying of jealousy (and other feelings I just can't describe) and won't take anything, even if I were to die of hunger. And I can't tell anyone. It's just such a "personal matter".
Writing it here might help me next time to change my eating habits. Although I'm not sure that my life would be worth it without me tormenting myself all the time. Thus I would lose the sense of being alive. But about that topic... Next time.
2008-06-17
"The way out"
My mother has started to consider becoming an alcoholic. Wonderful idea, I must say (yesterday it helped us a lot when we took a little slivovitz in the afternoon - the world was suddenly much "lighter" and somehow funnier). Unfortunately alcohol helps you only temporarily and after a while you fall again into the desperate state you had been in before you drank. This should be changed:o) (although I'm almost sure that if I complain about that, it won't change anything).
And as mother said: "It would be easy to become an alcoholic, if one had enough money for that." Which we don't, which has already made the needed arrangement for us.
And as mother said: "It would be easy to become an alcoholic, if one had enough money for that." Which we don't, which has already made the needed arrangement for us.
2008-06-16
Scio
Just a short comment as I really don't want to spend too much time with that ***** company.
I took part in their competition for money (for the students with the best score in their ***** tests). I had 199 (+) out of 200 points. Quite a lot, don't you think? And guess how successful I was? The 18th. Last year there was no one better than me this year. Everybody says how difficult it is to succeed in scio. And here you see.
Only bad news this morning (I mean not only scio.)
I took part in their competition for money (for the students with the best score in their ***** tests). I had 199 (+) out of 200 points. Quite a lot, don't you think? And guess how successful I was? The 18th. Last year there was no one better than me this year. Everybody says how difficult it is to succeed in scio. And here you see.
Only bad news this morning (I mean not only scio.)
2008-06-15
I just still can't get over it.
OK. Let's try and rewrite the story.
Yesterday I found out that some bitch (couldn't help myself with that word) sent several photos of her genitalia (I just never know which word to use) to my boyfriend two years ago. That wouldn't be a cause for getting angry except for several details:
Yesterday I found out that some bitch (couldn't help myself with that word) sent several photos of her genitalia (I just never know which word to use) to my boyfriend two years ago. That wouldn't be a cause for getting angry except for several details:
- He didn't get rid of them immediately.
- He hasn't got rid of them yet (saving them for poorer times?).
- He didn't tell me about them when we almost split at that time because of the bitch (well, I don't tell him everything either but at least I don't keep such disgusting evidence).
- It was just ten days after our first sex.
- He says he was just bored at work and wanted to "relax" a bit (but why the fuck couldn't he do that with me?).
- She wrote that she was sending them the photos in return (in return for what???)
- He answered than he wanted another couple of photos where he could see her in underwear and that he liked the photos she had sent to him.
- He couldn't send her his photos (I wonder what would be on them? - although it's more than obvious) as he had just lost his camera, while he was trying to persuade me that he was the most sorry for the photos of me that were in the camera - bastard.
- Two years ago he told me he just wanted to be nice to her as her boyfriend has just left her and that's why he called her "honey" in the messages he sent to her.
- Now he says he just wanted to see the photos and there was nothing else about it (and this should confort me?).
Vie de merde.
The end? I wouldn't be that sure.
Now that I'm a bit calmer I might be able to write something about yesterday evening. But even before that, one note about my father.
It looks like he's decided to get rid of all that surplus of energy he has. Working on the wet wall in my grandma's kitchen is gradually killing him (or at least he looks like that). Good news for us, anyway. In the last two days he looked at least a little like a normal human being for the first time after a very long time. We could see it in his eyes. His eyes always inform us about any mad stuff happening in his head (again). Should I therefore hope for better tomorrows? Well, after the last 11 years of my life I'm almost sure that this wasn't his last mania. And that it hasn't finished yet. And still there are things I have to deal with. I have to write about. As it will never be my past.
But now he suffers (a bit). So let him suffer. I'm not sorry for him. It looks like suffering makes you (or him) more human.
It looks like he's decided to get rid of all that surplus of energy he has. Working on the wet wall in my grandma's kitchen is gradually killing him (or at least he looks like that). Good news for us, anyway. In the last two days he looked at least a little like a normal human being for the first time after a very long time. We could see it in his eyes. His eyes always inform us about any mad stuff happening in his head (again). Should I therefore hope for better tomorrows? Well, after the last 11 years of my life I'm almost sure that this wasn't his last mania. And that it hasn't finished yet. And still there are things I have to deal with. I have to write about. As it will never be my past.
But now he suffers (a bit). So let him suffer. I'm not sorry for him. It looks like suffering makes you (or him) more human.
2008-06-14
Chinese
Today I've had the last lesson of Chinese with my Chinese lecturer Peng Yan. I'll miss her... But as she said: "hou hui you qi" (后会有期)...
Now I'm listening to some Chinese music she gave me and I must say that Chinese music isn't much different from the "western" one (except for the language, of course). Maybe just... A Chinese song always tells a story (about love usually). I found out that it's not that common in "our" songs... They don't tell any story, they even don't describe any feelings I could translate for Peng Yan. Just "pictures"... Well, and western music is not so sweet:o). Although there are some exceptions on both sides.
And now why I started writing about Chinese... I feel that it is now one of the most important elements of my life... When I concentrate on learning, on correct Chinese pronunciation, I forget all about my life... I have to devote myself completely to Chinese... It's a kind of therapy. And what's more, I have a new "dream" (I put this into inverted commas as one of the biggest problems in my life is that I don't have any dreams - this drives my psychologist mad:o) ) - and that is to go to China (I hope it'll be possible once I am at the university where I'm going to study Chinese)... Do you think there is a better way of escaping your present life than to move (at least for a while) to a place which is a few thousand kilometres away?
And there is another reason why I've decided to learn Chinese... There is a beautiful parallel to that reason in Star Wars I (not that I've seen the film but it's at the end of my Chinese textbook:o) ):
Now I'm listening to some Chinese music she gave me and I must say that Chinese music isn't much different from the "western" one (except for the language, of course). Maybe just... A Chinese song always tells a story (about love usually). I found out that it's not that common in "our" songs... They don't tell any story, they even don't describe any feelings I could translate for Peng Yan. Just "pictures"... Well, and western music is not so sweet:o). Although there are some exceptions on both sides.
And now why I started writing about Chinese... I feel that it is now one of the most important elements of my life... When I concentrate on learning, on correct Chinese pronunciation, I forget all about my life... I have to devote myself completely to Chinese... It's a kind of therapy. And what's more, I have a new "dream" (I put this into inverted commas as one of the biggest problems in my life is that I don't have any dreams - this drives my psychologist mad:o) ) - and that is to go to China (I hope it'll be possible once I am at the university where I'm going to study Chinese)... Do you think there is a better way of escaping your present life than to move (at least for a while) to a place which is a few thousand kilometres away?
And there is another reason why I've decided to learn Chinese... There is a beautiful parallel to that reason in Star Wars I (not that I've seen the film but it's at the end of my Chinese textbook:o) ):
Anakin, training to be a Jedi will not be an easy challenge.
And if you succeed, it will be a hard life.
But it's what I want. What I've always dreamed about.
2008-06-13
The story of the bathroom
My father has just almost killed himself in our bath. Now I'm wondering whether it would bring me any good if he really did...
And that's how I introduce the main theme of this "diary". The main theme of my life. My past and my future...
It crossed my mind that it wouldn't be that bad to write a book about him. A book for him. He's not able to listen to me, he can't understand what I tell him. He can only understand and accept what he reads and I feel that a letter wouldn't be enough to say everything I want. Although in fact just a sentence would do. Just one sentence.
Do you really think that all those things you do you do for me???
And that's how I introduce the main theme of this "diary". The main theme of my life. My past and my future...
It crossed my mind that it wouldn't be that bad to write a book about him. A book for him. He's not able to listen to me, he can't understand what I tell him. He can only understand and accept what he reads and I feel that a letter wouldn't be enough to say everything I want. Although in fact just a sentence would do. Just one sentence.
Do you really think that all those things you do you do for me???
Where to begin?
I've decided I'll postpone the introduction of the main "theme" of this blog to another post... Now I'd like to mention here one of the most important "figures" of my life in a little disguised way.
If the things weren't like they are, I'm sure that the day I would meet him by coincidence in the street I would immediately fall in love with him. And I would never forget that moment or his face. But we live in reality and I'm with someone else and he also... So nothing can happen between us, although we have so many things in common.
I will never forget that night. The most "interesting" night in my whole life...
He was lying next to me, so close I could touch his body with my whole body. My face was just a centimetre from his but we just couldn't... We couldn't do anything as it would spoil that moment.
Today a short piece of a long forgotten poem came into my mind on the way home: "he is so nice, so kiss him (twice)"... But I didn't and I won't ever... As this has nothing to do with love... It was just one night and if it was something more, it would be just sex... And even that would destroy us...
He told me: "It's just like with heroin. Once you taste it, you'll never stop."
It's better like this. Although I still regret I didn't do what I wanted to do so much that night...
If the things weren't like they are, I'm sure that the day I would meet him by coincidence in the street I would immediately fall in love with him. And I would never forget that moment or his face. But we live in reality and I'm with someone else and he also... So nothing can happen between us, although we have so many things in common.
I will never forget that night. The most "interesting" night in my whole life...
He was lying next to me, so close I could touch his body with my whole body. My face was just a centimetre from his but we just couldn't... We couldn't do anything as it would spoil that moment.
Today a short piece of a long forgotten poem came into my mind on the way home: "he is so nice, so kiss him (twice)"... But I didn't and I won't ever... As this has nothing to do with love... It was just one night and if it was something more, it would be just sex... And even that would destroy us...
He told me: "It's just like with heroin. Once you taste it, you'll never stop."
It's better like this. Although I still regret I didn't do what I wanted to do so much that night...
2008-06-12
Writing a Blog Again?
Yes, again... But this time it will be different... If in no other way, at least in the language... For only one reason - there are certain people who shouldn't read all this... Maybe - that will depend on the final content (about which I'm not that sure just now). And fortunately there's one thing these people can't (although otherwise they're capable of anything really) - and that is to understand English... Thank God for that... I can't hold all that stuff inside me anymore...
There is also one other practical reason - I don't want to forget English, which will now be quite difficult, as I'm starting at the university this year (in a four months in fact) and I've finally decided to change my life (a bit:o) ) and I'm going to study Chinese and French, which I think will be quite demanding and I'm not sure whether I'll be able to keep in contact with English... So this might help...
I have to finish just now (someone's coming) but new posts will come soon... I hope...
There is also one other practical reason - I don't want to forget English, which will now be quite difficult, as I'm starting at the university this year (in a four months in fact) and I've finally decided to change my life (a bit:o) ) and I'm going to study Chinese and French, which I think will be quite demanding and I'm not sure whether I'll be able to keep in contact with English... So this might help...
I have to finish just now (someone's coming) but new posts will come soon... I hope...
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