May 23, 2006

Static On The Radio

Sorry to those of you who have read any of my gibberish, and especially those of you who have taken the time to comment or email me. I really really do appreciate it. You are all so much sweeter than I am :) Unfortunately I am cracking at the foundations here and not in a good way, there is no more denying reality- my spirit is breaking. When you have to stick a pen in your leg so that you can change your focus so that you won't cry, that is a telltale sign that you can't hide your feelings through resignation anymore.

Life bubbles up when you try to push it down. And things got appreciably worse today, ironically over something that should have been nothing. I can't handle the knitting let alone the blogging when I can't see through my tears of rage and frustration, tears that are starting to pop up when I least expect them. I am a walking time bomb and the term short fuse is much more than an understatement. More importantly, there is no more self-deprecating or otherwise humour. That my friends is a sign of the fourth horseman swinging the apocalypse my way. I am depleted of everything except that never-ending reserve of salt water tears and a good dose of toxic matter that is putrifying inside me. And I have to sit with this eating me alive until I can get my balls together to find a way out, a way that will stop me from spitting venom. I can't expect anyone to heave my ass around when it is this weighted down.

I would try to do the "talk/write it out" method, but I have never been one of those people for whom letting it out reduces my stewing levels. When I am panicking yes, when I am buried in the dark- not so much. It just cycles it and I have had enough of watching it swirl around me with the darkness that has accompanied it. So me myself and I are going to sit this out on our lonesome until we can change the tides.

And I really don't want to submit those of you who stop by to my bipolar fury and depression. You haven't done anything to deserve it. No one has actually, except maybe me for tolerating this shit and well not wanting to admit reality. But I can't hide it or make it funny anymore. When my loud voice (those who have met me can tell you about my cheerleader range...) is silenced, and I can't laugh or make the worst of cracks about it... all that is left is a dark path that I have to walk through and pray there is light at the other end of the tunnel.

So things may remain quiet while I try to find the way up from down and step away from the weak and weariness that is tearing me to bits. I am on email, I hope to be commenting a bit, I should be on Flickr (all but the rare few of my 150+ Sicily photos have been uploaded and are live for your perusal), and once the tears stop flowing and burning a hole through me... if I am not drowned under the torential sea that my tears create around me, I hope to be typing again and putting my bits back together.

Until then wishing you all smiles and I'll talk to those who are interested on the underside.

Posted by Stinkerbell at 10:42 PM | Comments (16) | TrackBack

May 14, 2006

Ce Ci N'Est Pas Une Blogue

Le sigh... I am feeling a bit down and on the rounds with it all.

Maybe it is because things can be full yet still I feel a sincere kind of lonely, that is worsened with a spoonful of difficulty that life as an expat dashes into the recipe. Maybe it is because I don't have my knitting (insert anything else that interests me/you and gives a group sentiment) group like others do and thus my projects languish as it is just me, myself and I sitting around on this shit (see below). Maybe it is because I came back from sun to mostly piss grey, and French people who have the audacity to speak French to me... I want to be in Italy damn it. Maybe it is because I have to go back to work again tomorrow and dude that place now has proprietary rights on the Soul Vacuum (NOT to be confused with the Soul Train). Maybe it is because everything is in bad fengshui placement and am on this evil carousel ride where in I want to do or clear nothing and it makes me want to do or clear nothing. Nothing like a "virtuous" circle to keep a girl going.

Despite sounding blah I am not depressed or Little Miss Negativity in person. Serious it is just my inability to type an interesting sounding thing that comes across here. But one thing I will be honest about- I am seriously low on mojo, particularly blogging mojo... and doing too much introspection probably. Which is what happens when you find out the job hope of all hopes dumped on you, because you have too much education... FUCK me sideways while you are at it please, and this it all be my "wants security" fault. Don't you hate it when there is no one else to blame but your own ass... and really even then you shouldnt complain too much as you do have it quite good (dont do jack shit for a job, get paid bank, and live in Paris you know!!)?? I DO!!

I am not sure what this is, or for that matter why anyone reads a word I type... And sometimes I go back and forth with just giving up. So while me and my other 12 personalities go duke it out in Fight Club, while I hope and wait for a nice kick of spice to take a boot to my ass, and while the Sicily post marinates itself a bit longer to avoid my inability to write anything of interest about such an interesting place- go look here at the trickling in photos ( maybe a bit photoshop happy, but pre DSLR. I am SOOOOO looking forward to my birthday next month and getting one, it be my one way of getting through this month).

Posted by Stinkerbell at 08:01 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBack

May 08, 2006

Toto... I Don't Think We Are In Sicily Anymore...

Sicilian Lemons

I am back, though I'd much rather not be. I am playing avoidance strategy games like no one's business. Evasion- it fits in with the Sicilian way of life.

I stayed away from the Mafia, and in retaliation they let me have free reign over the island. But the vacation I never thought I would survive until and that seemed to be going along at its merry own pace drew time to a close and next thing I knew I was at the airport, surrounded by French people getting on a plane, to speak the French again. This means only one thing. I am back in Paris.

I am exhausted in a good way, and missing Sicily already in a bad way. The pilot should have warned me it was going to be a bumpy ride "home" and a shaky landing on the way back.

Short story of Tinks vacation. It was was a bit like riding a roller coaster but so lovely that I am already thinking about when I can go back.

Flickr defaulted to private for some reason (and then the camera crapped out, double bad as it was my own damn fault, which caused a bit of irrational petulant stropping about on its own) but I will try to edit through them (all 350!) and make them all public in the next couple of days. There should also be a travel post coming up here soon too. Even though you all conspired and my bloglines account has over 1300 posts to skim through.

That is once I get past the fact that I am in France, not Sicily...

Posted by Stinkerbell at 10:31 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack