...like this goldfish bowl is the whole sea, see?

Think back to the time when you were in elementary school and someone was so mad at you that you almost wanted to just quit. And you begged your parentals to let you stay home, or just homeschool you or something. If you can even remember a vivid time when this happened (because it's probably a very foggy memory in which the details are not so much around, but the feeling is there)... your parents probably sent you to school anyway and told you something about how "this too shall pass" and how you can't "run away from every problem". Things like that. It never stops or changes though. It will happen again through highschool, your first job, your second, and pretty much all of them... and the more your tendency to be a people pleaser, the higher the tendency to run into such things. Everytime one of these situations of dramatics arises, that usually isn't easily shaken, because a job or something ever so important weighs in the balance, your parents or grandparents or friends or confidants will echo the same sentiments as the first times around... except often with my guy friends these days, the language is a bit stronger. They're usually quick to dismiss the actions of the other person in question and dumb it down to the fact that they are maybe not quite human, and they shouldn't be given a second or third or 4th thought. ALL of this has always been a real esteem booster, when it happens, but i dont ever know what to do with it. It sounds nice. It sounds easy. But, I'm not a boy. I'm a very sensitive girl who HATES when people are remotely upset with her.

I am also, apparently a very slow learner.

I was nearing the point of tears from a current situation, and wanted nothing more than to just clock out and peace out on the whole night. A guy I work with stopped me and said that wasn't the best of ideas, and not to let one person ruin my time. That I was better than all that. I listened. He gave me a man hug, later... and another made me some food. It's all I needed for that few minutes, anyway. Since then, my holiday has had this weird backdrop of pure anxiety about going back to work. Last night, a friend of mine, a darling dashing baron... echoed the above sentiments with the more colourful of language choices and then said, "rise above it."

I immediately thought, eh. They're all saying the same things. but, really?! Easier said than done.

And then I wondered why it was so hard after all?

Because really, when 5 years pass, ok. 5 months pass, I'll have forgotten the details of this situation. All I'll remember are the people I wanted to be with after my shift was over.

The question really is...

WHY AM I LIVING LIKE THIS GOLDFISH BOWL IS THE WHOLE SEA?!

because it's not.

Now, I'm a firm believer of being diligent in the small things. Of remembering where you've come from and all of that. But I am very good at making ant hills feel like a mount everest in my mind. And life is hard enough without my brain's fanciful exaggerations.

You give it all you've got. If it turns out well, then... spectacular.

If it doesn't, well... on to the next one.

This is temporal.

Everything cannot be perfect.

I cannot make everyone happy.

I wish I could explain how tired I am.

I feel like I have the flu minus all the symptoms but lethargy and fatigue.

I could sleep all day without any problem. That's how hard I'm running right now.

It will be ok though.

so repeat the mantra.

This is a goldfish bowl.

This is not the whole sea.

a loan.

beats and rattles draped in thin layers of ice.
call back for returns.
call ahead if you like.
screened calls like answering telephones in the 50s.
because we crave to be found alone.
we were silly that night. foolish clumsy children.
and i should have known better, running in the cold as though immune.
but, forgot on purpose.
you, building your arsenal of ammunition.
it's whatever you make of it.
you invited me to sit here.
i declined.
and in the middle of the night it got cloudy.
and i don't remember anything i'm sure, i'm not sure why.
no one watched the pot.
just the water exploding into a boil.
the pinnacle of resistance stated calmly in your eyes.
i remember the change. the slow merge to something else. from fondness to strength.
but a mean strength. a brute strength. no longer wooing just possessing.
and in that moment where i should've been set alight, i went out.
i checked out.
the pulse shifted… the vacant sign illuminated.
you never knew the difference.
i'd forgotten him.
i'd forgotten you.
i was alone.
i left you there with my body and conversations and hovered above the shame of your tears falling all around that place.
left you to cover up what wouldn't be undone.
on my heel turned and breathed a sigh of relief.
and sang a knowing song that you'd hear when all alone.
you've lost.
i'm gone.
i'm gone.
i'm gone.

ground control to major tom.

featuring tom. someone who will probably always be dear to my heart.

so proud.

no sense in crying when you chose it.

you know those things you see coming a million miles away, but you think you'll try it once more to see if it turns out differently?

like getting cocky after a couple of wins.

you let your guard down.

the sky isn't quite dark enough, reflecting all those lights.

all those lights drawing us from our beds into the night.

convincing us we need something til we're blinded to stars and comets and constellations.

i dont even remember the last time i looked up beyond the trees.

hope lifts your head up to connect the dots.

or disconnect.

and i saw that it could mean all that much more and absolutely nothing.

that either we are dust and flaming stars or creations.

i have faltered and am careful and care less.

it's like anyplace this asylum of thoughts.... like anyplace new. anyplace off the beaten path, that looks a bit more or less interesting. seems a bit more dangerous. comes off a bit more insane. you know? one of those.

but it's all the same.

and i'm bored with the same outcome.

it doesn't even hurt anymore. calloused hands grab hold. and yeah, i'm tired. who wouldn't be. but it won't kill me, will it. maybe like cigarettes it kills slow. point is, it's just boring. the same thickheaded self-centered characters entering and exiting. they're good for nothing but background noise and movement. not even worth a mention as the assistant to the grip-boy in the closing credits. and i have become like them. in a headlock. defacing their value in order not to feel too sad.

it is sad.

but you get used to it.

and i'd much rather watch a comedy.

short end of the stick. courtesy of me. [decision making. or not.]

it seems i keep selling myself short. over and over and over and over.

what happens is i dont believe that ____ or ____ will ever happen to me. that this person or that person will ever notice i am alive. and sure. sometimes these things happen. the point is, that to rid myself of all chances of disappointment, i convince myself that everything is possible for everyone but me. on most things. this is dumb. but true.

it's also what happens when life deals out the stupidest deck of cards everrrr.

at least it feels that way.

maybe it's the best deck ever.

maybe i'll win bigstyle one day.

maybe i never will.

ok but this isn't about go fish or black jack or anything.

this is the sort of blog entry i'll write... read tomorrow... consider deletion... and go back and read again and again, as though someone else wrote it. and maybe someday i'll listen.

i am an incredible girl.

i didn't say perfect.

just incredible.

i didn't say any of the ridiculous fleeting attributes we hang on to it, like christmas tree ornamentation.

i spend far too much time trying to convince people of what they already know or what they already should know.

rather than convincing myself.

and so, if you are a man in my world, know this...

i dont care what's in your bank account. i don't care what your comfy cushy plan is. you have a passion? excellent. you want someone to do this life adventure with? awesome. want that to be me? come get it.

but this is no lotto jackpot. i am not some awesome deal... a happy hour special or even on sale. not damaged goods. more like a luxury model. i am a priceless jewel or a one-of-a-kind-classic-painter's-world-renowned-MASTERPIECE. the kind men would sail the seven seas and slit throats and risk their lives for... the kind of thing the best of the best of the bad guys get involved in some grand heist over. it's an overpriced item. i'm worth it. (thanks loreal.) i am no damsel in distress. i am no princess-brat laying on 20 mattresses being bruised by a pea. i am a world of wonderful things. incredibly strong. incredibly fragile. the wonder of being a woman and the beauty of a woman, is not in and of simply being a female who is alluring or whatever. it's remaining tender in a world that is bent on hardening you. it's remaining strong in a world that praises superficial strength. it's remaining beautiful with a beauty that explodes from within, in a world that adores a fleeting photoshopped perfection. a girl at rest in the eye of a hurricane, inviting others to hide beneath her wings, and yet who is able to take refuge under other wings of safety herself. a partner in crime. a lover. a nurturer. fiercely loyal. childlike...

but grace. full of grace.

a grace and a love not her own.

and seeking to be filled to overflowing with it.

that, and laughter.

i know what i want.

i know what i need.

i know who i am.

in part. all in part.

and the one who recognizes all these things and then some, even better than i...

the one who finds me, whom his soul will love and he will not let me go...

the one who sets me as a seal upon his heart

that's the one i'll choose.

winter romances.

imagine.

and i'll ponder all these little things in my heart.

open letter to my friends.

dear ___________,

i need you.

i don't know how else to say it.

i don't know how else to properly word it.

i don't even know what that looks like... except could we sometimes just get out of the house and be together for a bit? even for coffee or hot chocolates or tea or window shopping or a movie or food or dancing or walking through a park or...

i'm not ok. i've expressed it. you can't fix it. i just need company.

love,

nitasha

why, oh, why do you keep me away?

I remember sittin' up in my room, very much like the Brandy song. I must've been 15 or so. I had Travis's "The Man Who" on a tape quite literally imported from a friend in London. There was also this Lighthouse Family record that made me want to vomit on cue. I've never understood why the English had this affinity with that group. And, I'm sure they're the loveliest bunch of humans, but really their tunes make my skin crawl. It would be a great torture method for me. That and Natalie Merchant. But, I don't work for NME and this isn't about my ripping defenseless artists a new one.

I went to a private Christian school. Always things to do. Something to study for. Music to practice, some place to be. But, in between, I could be found laying on my bed exploring these new caverns of my mind while Radiohead's "The Bends" played over and over and over and over. That and OK Computer. I used to get lost in all of these albums and the worlds they'd help create in my head. I'd steal away there as often as I could... and make my own words into rhymes. I'd pretend to be someone else. Some glamourous person in love and with friends. In just a moment, this will break and this will start happening. I used to think that over and over to myself all of the time. At school, I was never asked on a date. Ever. I invited an underclassman to our 'extravaganza'-cum-prom, and went solo my senior year. I always had a lot of friends, as I found myself blending along the edges of all sorts of different social circles and scenes. But, I was never part of one thing. Except my friends in England. I was part of their world somehow. In some distant and yet wonderfully close way, I was this exciting novelty that never seemed to wear off. They were mine. I was theirs. Whatever I wanted to be in my head, I was something close to that in actuality to them.

It's nice to say that nothing has changed.

Or is it?

If I need someone... and that person to respond quickly... if I need to be encouraged... if I am in any kind of need at all, I pick up my phone, get on skype... any means of conversing... and one of them from across the sea will jump to my rescue. Almost every. single. time.

I feel lonely in a city full to overflowing with so many friends.

I feel like a stranger in my house.

I miss the proximity of family.

And I ache for home.

A home I cannot get to.

Damn immigration.

And so...

This is just to say that I miss you, friends in England.

This is just to say I love you.

This is just to say that I'm sorry I take you for granted, if it ever seems that I do.

Because ever since I can remember, all I've ever really wanted is a place that I know that I belong. Why am i kept away?

The Bends is playing as I write this.

And it warms me and makes me sad to know everything and nothing has changed.

There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them.

he dreams of saving me

and everyone is thinking that he might

but know your enemy,

cos i will be on both sides of the fight

he says, "Darling, trust in me. I'll be what they were not."

i said, "i know.

My body will become your house,

and one day you'll forget to come back home."

I'm always mapping out the exits

and the fastest ways to go

Regardless of the way I play,

the same old ghost is running this old show.

I begged him just to let me be.

He just reminded me that life's not fair.

He waited til I loosed my grip,

Then sent me sailing down all of these stairs.

youngfellas. [and other random thoughts]

I kind of always forget where I am when I'm working there... it's the complete polar opposite of the southern style place where I wait tables.I read something once in one of those ridiculous books that supposedly can tell all about a person by their birth date. One bit of it rang true, and that was something to do with the fact that I'm creative... always getting lost in these imaginings in my head. It can be a good thing, sometimes this irrepressible talent for daydreaming.

Anyway, I feel like I'm in a big city... maybe New York. That would make a lot of sense. It's cold out, and everytime the doors open, I welcome curious faces, confident faces, familiar faces, regular faces... and a blustery burst of cold air they bring with them. It's impossible to smile at one and not the other. So out of route I think I start smiling at the cold. It doesn't feel so festive, though it's lit up like a Christmas cave. It's got that arms length comfort of a big city. And yet, the smiles and the tender tones of speaking give away that we're south of the mason dixon, and you find yourself a bit more at ease. It's a busy little place filled with conversation... Until the kitchen gets it's fires going... The boys start yelling. Those Italian boys. And I keep stealing glances...

This is the part where things get fuzzy. It only helps to embellish my wandering thoughts when the owners walk past. They own the role and speak in New York tongues. I am teleported instantly. And somehow, I feel closer to home. The thrill of excitement that if I step out of these doors, I'll be dwarfed by skyscrapers and swallowed by lights. Cars turn to hasty taxis. And the quiet retreats into swells of conversations all rolling over each other like waves and undercurrents. Inside, I'm adjusting to and getting acquainted with the girls with loud laughs, deep husky voices and starry young eyes... but I'm never sure whether I'll meet the inside of their sarcastic jokes or their cold shoulders. Probably why I tend to retreat to this torrent of thought. The other men are warm. Just warm smiles. Even in the midst of a rush of tables and a check list of a thousand things and steps of service, they will emerge from their tunnel vision, if only for a second... like a submarine surfacing, just to smile at you. A smile that changes the whole demeanor of the room. I like these boys. Most of the girls are hard... lacking a certain softness. And I wonder if it's because this supposed city of hospitality has made them that way... or if they're all transplants from other cities that have bred other girls as such... I wonder at their protective armour as they walk from place to place as though they own the room. Thing is, not many of them are at ease. But, I think it's something only a girl could notice. I wonder if boys notice. I should ask them.

Nevermind, I'm too nervous to ask much of anything... I'm like a child distracted by the first visit to the circus or a carnival. Wide-eyed wonder at the simplest of things... because you aren't exactly looking at just a carousel or carnival lights, but you're immersing yourself into a story... a magical one in which it makes sense. The normal everyday outside of a mall parking lot dissipates, and a world of wonder unfolds. Too much, I think... perhaps I've made a mountain of a molehill here. Nevertheless, I am nervous, and a I am a little starstruck.

I'm the new girl in school trying very hard to make the grade... wanting very much for the other girls to like me. But mostly, stealing little glances over my shoulder at these riotous boys in the class. Er, kitchen.

Imagine a family where the men in the family tree go something like this. Frank Sinatra

is the father of two sons that look like Al Pacino and Andy Garcia...

And these brothers have a few sons... that all work together. Bantering cousins/brothers. Got it? Well, these are the boys in question that have caught my eye... in fact, they keep catching it. My behaviour is elementary. I'm absolutely delighted by them and smiling a bit too much when one of them pays me a bit more attention. By that, I mean, when one speaks to me. I laugh heartily at their jokes and their antics and their ridiculous songs and voices. I am a smitten little kitten. And I probably won't do a thing about it... and neither will they. But I like the look of those boys... and I wish they'd notice I was alive. sigh and cue some broadway musical song.

I do like the way the older gentleman has taken me under his wing. He's like a protective grandpa. I like his stories. I like his accent. I like it when he's working, because even if wires get crossed, I'm his baby girl, as he says. He's quite convincing. He wears suits. He's always so smart looking. (Smart here, being the english term... dapper, perhaps? ok.) He reminds me of someone that would be in a cartoon. His face is expressive. He's equal parts professional and warmth. And I can deal with all of that. I like being protected and looked after, even when I'm perfectly capable of handling something. I've craved that sense of security my whole life... which is maybe why all this oscillation and unsteadiness and all of these inconstant variables are wearing me out. especially relational ones. because when relational consistency is there, the other constant changes feel more like adventure. but when everything is unstable and hope is the thing with feathers evading your grasp, and you wake up with an elephant on your chest every morning, it leaves this unshakable fragile feeling.

I still daydream of being found the loveliest girl in the room... of being won over by one of the handsome ones. Of some fantastic love story unraveling and weaving itself into reality, until it's part of my fabric. It's these little moments of respite that get me through the mundane bits of being a working girl... and then I remember I work with a stunning redhead, and a model that's been on one of those america's next top model spinoff shows, and a gaggle of other sweet young things. HAH!

And on that note, I'll laugh it off as folly and foolishness to amuse you with and say goodnight.

sylvia plath.

"I had imagined a kind, ugly intuitive man looking up and saying "Ah!" in an encouraging way, as if he could see something I couldn't, and then I would find words to tell him how I was so scared, as if I were being stuffed farther and farther into a black, airless sack with no way out. Then he would lean back in his chair and match the tips of his fingers together in a little steeple and tell me why I couldn't sleep and why I couldn't read and why I couldn't eat and why everything people did seemed so silly, because they only died in the end.

And then, I thought, he would help me, step by step, to be myself again."

- Sylvia Plath from 'The Bell Jar'

I feel like she wrote me in a matter of sentences.

It explains absolutely everything.

i gotta bring you back to life. you and your heart. your heavy heart.

so proud of these boys.

been dancing around my room all morning to this.

again.

treats from summer. [i wish he was my boyfriend]

ok but, i really do, though.

i would just really like...

to eat a cupcake.

i'm being stolen.

evolution. [or reinvented by canvas]

we looked like we'd just fallen from the sky.

do you know what that's like?

i heard a crack, just then.

be careful.

one of these times they'll push too far.

one of these days i'll completely disappear.

i look the same. but something's shifted.

anyway, we shot higher and higher until the engines cut off.

in attempts to stall.

i felt myself passing out.

she's always offering good advice and holistic remedies.

i am forgetful and wooed by science.

scorned by science.

in the name of it all. survival of the fittest.

or some poor excuse for selfish behaviour.

a friend of mine gave me a painting, and on it are the words, "they liked me better dead."

but that's not true is it.

i am whatever you say i am./not./am./not.

so if i can take the same 26 letters and reorder them...

if i can take the same words taught to me and rearrange them...

if i can take the same 88 keys and transpose them...

then i will take these bones and reinvent them.

i will take these tears and bury them.

i will take this heart and veil it.

you'll see glimpses and no more.

tell what she was like, because this one won't leave a trace.

some vacant memory of a well-meaning piece of carbon.

weary light.

once brave. now sighed.

and the sky swallowed her whole.

little joy(s).

ok. let's talk about this.

it's a beautiful day out. my team won. (the redskins). yes i am a redskins fan. and when they play, it's the only time i care about nfl or any american football for that matter. let's be real. i mostly watch the superbowl for the half-time performance and the commercials.

this is a recipe for a good day. except that i worked today.

nope. no no no. not what you're thinking. i am thrilled to be working today. i'm thankful for that sweet table of three with the precious moments doll eyes who ordered carrot cake and said i was beautiful. i'm so grateful for the tiredness invading my body to cause some sort of over-emotional response in the form of a blog that will probably go deleted. i'm thankful for 2 jobs. one that i'm trying ever so hard to master.

what am i referring to then? i am frustrated with the fact that, in my life, a lot of times, it seems that hard work and diligence are not rewarded... except that it makes you too exhausted to have an anxiety attack before bedtime. kind of. ok no it doesn't. it just makes sleeping feel really good. i dont want anyone's pity or sympathy and there are many things that will go unmentioned in the public blog forum. but i am tired of trying. tired of giving 200%... embracing constructive criticism, being the perfectionist that i am, and getting absolutely nowhere fast. of working hard to pay your dues, and getting the short end of the stick almost each and every time you go the extra mile.

hi. how can i help you? smile smile smile. what can i get for you? how can i be for you? how can i make you feel amazing today? service is my job. it's something i deeply enjoy. and it's super awesome when you get paid. and even more awesome when people reciprocate. i feel guilty for even typing that i'm feeling empty, depleted and unfulfilled. it only leads to my being angry and questioning myself.

i'm tired of people trying to relate to me, when they're internalizing and spending 90% of their time inside their own heads, and forgetting they've not communicated this to their friends. and so everything comes out in clips and phrases. and so, though they may relate to my feelings, their solution lies before them. just a matter of sitting down and making this or that adjustment. which they won't until they're good and ready. because their emotional senses block their practical abilities. and let's face it. sometimes it's much easier to feel down than to push past and make something happen. but imagine you push past and nothing happens. again. and again. and you are patient. and you ask for advice. and finally, you just want to throw something, because...

IT.

WHATEVER IT IS.

JUST.

ISNT.

WORKING.

YOU.ARE.STILL.LOSING.

but refusing to quit.

aw, you sweet little chum. A for effort. ra ra ra and all of that.

i'm tired of showing up. not for the sake of showing up, but knowing that there are days when i need someone to show up for me, and they will not. pulling back or cutting people off is silly and impractical...

which brings us to relationships. boy and girly lovey ones.

i want my partner in crime around. whomever the hell that is. WHICH feels more like the equivalent of some sort of disney princess happily ever after wish upon a falling star whispered to my conscience cricket friend named jimminy, last name christmakuh who talks to me on my windowsill. though i don't look at such things with rose-coloured glasses. meanwhile, i thought attention from boys would make me feel better. it doesn't. and at the moment, it's making me freak out and retreat further into hiding. i miss one. but i am out of sight; out of mind. and it sucks. and it hurts some. but it's nothing to analyse or question. just hang out. wait it out. or whatever. i'm fine with being single. i am bored with being teased that my bff has just arrived. i wish these suckers would stop wasting my time and or starting what they can't or don't intend to finish.

i am on a carousel with the most annoying song playing.

i cannot make it stop.

i cannot get the operator's attention.

i cannot jump off.

i just have to take it with a smile... and start being happy for the fact that it's a nice day to be stuck on a carousel.

and i'm tired of doing that.

i'm tired of being ignored and unmissed.

i'm tired of feeling like i dont matter.

my heart hurts. and i'm so angry.

and what's worse is that overall unhappy people who are bored with their lives make it their aim to steal the little joys from people around them.

the little joys that get me through... nice and slow. one day at a time.

anyway, it's sunday november 21st. and that's how i feel. and i want it to change.

please, don't be long. please, don't you be very long.

please, don't be long.

for i may be asleep.

two roads diverged in a yellow wood

all of this will either kill me or make for something amazing.

astounding, even.

and, i've got something to say, my friends...

i will never lay down without a fight.

find some beautiful place to get lost.

i like books. and i mean, a whole lot.

good thing my housemate has pretty much all of the books i've been meaning to read, but haven't had the chance.

i'm gonna read like a kid in bookit.

descent.

ascent.

the sweet lift. gentle and sure.

alighting. no striving.

none.

but the descent.

cruel and uncertain.

trying.

like those dreams that won't stop coming.

and you wake up angry and hot and...

and.

and.

and?

it's maddening.

because i chose. i made my inner choice.

as if the gods are cruel.

as if the universe could hear the silent resolve.

down it spun.

down upon my gaping lungs.

hurled to the floor like a castaway.

wretch.

no?

ignored? it equals a decline.

wayward one.

what then?!

WHAT THEN?!

explained everything and nothing.

in sleepless nights.

in valid texts.

in poetry and prose.

in quotes and plagiarism.

in hysterical laughter.

in tearful confessions.

in all ways. honest.

in brave defiance of all the disappointment i have ever known.

i stood there, brazen.

i laid there, shaken.

i sit here.

d i s m i s s e d .

u n l o v e d .

u n r e q u i t e d .

u n k i s s e d .

and u n m i s s e d .

it rages like a swell of melancholy madness flying up to meet the sky. to challenge its breath. to question its heights. the sound of your favourites multiplied by passion to what sounds like voices of angels and broken souls singing with them. and echoes of past and all my present want. they sing. they sing out. they sing soft. they sing long.

and i would just as easily question the cruelty of the silence, as throw myself headlong into the comfort of violence. but no resolution. no answer. just wait.

fear swallowing my hope in love.

love so grand.

love so great.

and blackest sky brings its sickening wane.

the dismal forebodings of the beat of my veins.

i am just this. or that. or nothing. or much.

i am simply a girl fallen...

it is not aloud.

not aloud.

not granted for me.

descent to the valley.

descent from these heights.

because the letters i'd write would choose what is right.

but it would dash me to pieces sooner than enfold me in it.

you

have

not

been

paying

attention.

there is nothing to be done.

nothing at all.

i bloomed. i moved to love.

too soon.

it called my name to send me away again.

i blossomed.

i moved to love.

all for naught.

there's hope in the air; there's hope in the water, but no hope for me your last serving daughter.

careful little steps. heart beating like a bird. and if i concentrate ill slow it. but it's the pattern and rhythms of blood rush. of heart swells. inside everything is fast as chaos. faster than gravity. and outside it moves slow like molasses. i am no guru. i cannot reverse it. fathomless depths gape like wounds below. calling my name to come dwell there. forget the sting and move on, i say. onward and upward toward the healing. but every single day you are greeted with the first careful little step. there is no floor… just a tightrope. move slow. teeter upon the edge of being lost. or something. it is a curse handed down to you. a curse that has left you. a curse broken and deleted. but not, really. because it all takes the same cycle. the same wolf in sheep's clothing. and in the next dream, the good parts get longer, the climb is higher, the sweet is sweeter. and the fall will dash you. but you'll never die of it. it's enough to put you through hell, and not enough to kill you. not enough to cripple you. enough internal injuries to make you remember every time you breathe. but every one thinks you should be fine. and so, let's pretend that i am.

there is this kid in my class who passes notes to me. he scrawls them whenever he has a moment. decorates his books with commentaries for me. so each time he opens them to read along or study, i hear what's in it, but i can't help but see what note has been added. he's the first conspiracy theorist i've ever met. he makes me mistrustful of all that i've believed in. he also tells me how he sees me in the most poetic of ways. and if you're expecting shakespeare-like odes of beauty, my friends, you are mistaken. he elaborates upon my ugliness. suggests clothing to hide me better. to hide my shame. he paints the paper bags i walk around in. and makes a mask for my face. "look. you want this to stop hurting? it won't. it's ok. just hide it. hide you. stop talking. stop singing. stop moving. be silent, dear one. in this, you'll do the world the greatest of favors. just let them use you. you're worth nothing but to take care of people. you are rather good at that. you take care of them and help them to feel better with songs. let the men have their way. let them lead you on. you don't think they'd mean it, do you? no self-respecting man would love you. and you comfort the women. you're good at encouraging. so, let go of your dreams. relinquish them to this God you believe in. because you are misled. He wants them because you weren't meant to have them. You take care of other's children. you are a maid in the grand caste system of this world. so work harder and get those silly stories of princes and happy endings out of your head. this is reality. you're shooting for the moon, child." i think he's an idiot. but i believe every word he says.

these friendships are like terminal illnesses. these relationships much the same. everything has an expiration date… you cannot control when. but it will come. they will leave you in the end. you're still in the room, but the door has slammed. only difference is, i don't ask you to stay anymore. i won't beg you not to go. do us a favor, and stop wasting my time that i'll have to pay back to keep us on some sort of life support.

my body slides between the sheets each night and longs for some sort of meaning and freedom. i bite my mouth in my sleep from frustration. crying and fighting… fighting myself. good thing i'm imaginative. i'll create new reasons to exist here. and teach myself to lie so that when you ask how i'm doing… i 'll say fine in a believable sort of way. stoic little maid that won't give up. and bury it all in songs.

and someday, it just might feel ok. good thing some sort of warrior resides in the bones of this body.

december 3rd.

i know what you're thinking.

out of character for nitasha? yep. nevertheless...

I CANNOT WAIT TO SEE THIS FILM!

catch a boat to england, baby.

Living is a gamble, baby,
Loving's much the same.
Wherever I have played,
Wherever I throw those dice,
Wherever I have played
The blues have run the game.

and if i leave, you know, i wouldn't leave a trace.

new things written...

The disapproval writ on his face

I said, You're much too young to be stuck in your ways

Having trouble keeping pace

With your fast talking stories

and glorious claims

Show me your purple heart

Tell me the tales behind your battle scars

You can only lie but so far

Those untrained hands will shoot wide of the mark

I said, one if by land

And two if by sea

An army of cowards

To rescue me

One, if by land

Two, if by sea

And shame for the one

Who makes a fool out of me

When dawn broke the window

And shattered the glass

I woke with a start

And waited in bed

I loathed all the witnesses

chanting their chords

Try harder. Be Better.

And give us some more.

I said, one if by land

And two if by sea

An army of cowards

To rescue me

One, if by land

Two, if by sea

And shame for the one

Who makes a fool out of me

lady wisdom.

Today my grandma said I needed to find a good Jewish boy.

and there's that. i'm about to convert.

it's hard to accept yourself as someone you don't desire.

i have never felt so ugly... so used... and so unwanted in such a very long time.

"for our question is: 'Am I Lovely?"

and to be rejected is to hear a resounding. NO. "

i hear 'no' like a cd that's broken and skipping.

if a new heart has been created in me. if a new palace created from the ashes of my heart... then, a new war has been declared. and an atomic bomb has just been dropped on it. knowingly or unknowingly, many hands have helped set this in motion.

today i was minding my own business at one of my favourite places in east nashville. a song came on, and i literally had to excuse myself and run to my car to cry.

my heart is sick, friends. i am not ok at all.

"there's a low low feeling around me and a stone cold feeling inside. i just can't stop messing my mind up... wasting my time."

new. [there's nothing new under the sun.]

"Life's a corkscrew that can't be straightened,
A minus that won't add up."

it's one of those strange things. one of those jagged little pills, the book of ecclesiastes. a thing that is so full of truth that it makes your soul ache. and yet it feels good to be understood... to find your heart written out in ancient texts. you don't feel so crazy if the guy credited with being the wisest man in the world felt exactly the same as you.

i was promised newness.

and as of yet, it's all the same.

nothing has changed.

i am teetering on the edge of mistrust. distrust.

whatever. trust is fading quickly.

it's a different scene. a different act. a different cast of characters.

but it's the same story playing out again.

will it always be this way?

you know they like to knock me down, but i don't stay down for very long.

i wrote another song... or two this evening, and even began composing a piano piece, as well. it seems there are these wells of emotion that are begging me to tap them and turn them into something. but i feel like it's a bit like harnessing the sea. and i'm a bit afraid of what i'll find there. i'm so used to being able to explain how i feel. to paint a picture with words or notes.

instead i'm finding a thousand things are true. but they are contradictory.

i found myself ready to leave this town. or making plans of escape.

i found myself making plans to dig my heels in and seize the day and make the best.

i got in my car and drove with the intention of getting lost.

i found little pieces of myself to the backdrop of madison tennessee.

(not to mention a few places i've wondered where they are)

i am falling in love with him.

he has my attention.

he has lost my respect.

i am absolutely terrified and mistrusting.

i have this innate sense that i am being made a fool of.

i have this sense of safety.

i miss living with my family.

i know that my grandma and i have a healthier relationship when we aren't in the same house.

i miss having a dinner companion.

i want to sleep in tomorrow morning.

i want to wake up early and run and then perhaps crawl back into bed.

i miss my cushy job.

i dont miss the commute stress.

i hate catch 22s. and feeling like i've limited mobility.

i'm in my 20s. i'm single. i've no family of my own. the world is my oyster. but i'm trapped.

i want to paint my face and express myself/hide my vulnerability behind fashion.

i could care less about makeup and would rather don black tights and a shirt and call it a day.

i want to whisper.

i want to shout.

i want to speak plainly.

i'm sick of hearing the sound of my own voice.

i feel understood.

i feel misunderstood and alone.

i feel used.

i feel appreciated.

i feel pulled in a hundred directions and yet like a solitary motionless creature in the middle of the earth absolutely lost in a black hole.

i feel numb.

i feel overstimulated.

i want to quit.

i cannot stop.

looking at this photograph by nick knight made me miss an old lover.

nick knight was one of his favourites.

maybe i miss being a lover.

i miss being someone's favourite girl.

i hope he's well.

i wonder if it hurts him.

i can't remember his face./i wish i could forget.

i wonder if i'll ever be loved.

i wonder if i'll ever allow myself to be...

i wonder if i'll ever allow myself to trust again.

"i'm comin out..."

i'm withdrawing.

this song is so nostalgic. it's like a warm blanket...

don't let me go.

chipping nail varnish.

so in case anyone else was wondering, i was a 60s... sort of a factory girl, if you will. miss sedgwick was probably the muse for many things. nonetheless... that was that.

i decided, however, to be a cat for work...

everyone is talking about the mumford & sons show.

it makes my heart fly up in my throat and then drop to my shoes.

sort of like being on a roller-coaster. absence makes the heart grow fonder, i suppose.

and i really wish my heart felt warm and not roller-coaster-ish at present.

glad you all enjoyed it, though.

meanwhile, my nail varnish/polish is chipping. i hate that a lot. but i'm always incredibly lazy about taking it off.

it seems i've made it by the skin of my teeth this month. you know, with the bills bills bills. but then again, not exactly.

in general, i feel like something has got to give.

somehow i have the feeling that the 'something' is probably me.

(remember in the old bugs bunny cartoons when someone would say... "i have a feeling someone is about to get hoit [hurt]... and that someone is prrrobably me." hahaha

i'm doing a lot of striving.

my best friends and even my grandma have told me i need to stop.

one-a-those easier said than done things, eh? yes.

i had a dream the other night, that i was looking in the mirror and i couldn't see myself straight. i was wearing these crooked glasses, and i couldn't fix them. every pair i'd try on were wrecked and i couldn't see myself clearly at all. i saw everyone else just fine, but myself... so distorted.

everything about that dream is true.

i just want to hide... and take this nail varnish off.

and sleep, and not wake up with an elephant on my chest and bees in my stomach.

in other news:

i like the new n.e.r.d record. it's realllllll fun.

i'll probably be listening to it all day.

happy halloween.

walk alone. [company showed up]

oh dear god. it's 4am and i'm wide awake. please remind me who i am!

i was out this evening for girl talk with amanda/dinner at one of our favourite places and then we went for some drinks with some neurologists and matt. yes. epic. after all of this, mike came out of hiding and decided to join us.

daniel the neurologist was almost a psychologist. so upon noticing a girl who was painfully thin... and i mean, paaaaaainfully and scarily thin, these boys jaws hit the table and they began to gape. daniel, then, began to explain the medical reasoning behind such eating disorders. much of which i already knew. but it's all sort of down to an element of control when your self-esteem has gone awry and anxiety sets in. finally, the boys, for the second time this evening, began to discuss things they love about women/appreciate in their wives. it was nice to overhear that conversation.

i have stopped writing and reverted to pretty pictures for fear that i get too deep and too debbie downer-ish. i'm trying my best to be 'onward & upward'. but money has me in a headlock that insights swearing... and sometimes i feel like nothing in the world is gonna help me now. (thanks esser.)

but tonight, i got some things off my chest. i remembered this blooooog, this space of internetland isn't about my looking awesome, but rather my telling the truth. the fact is, that i have had to actively remember this week that i have value as a human. and no one has a clue that it's going on. it's absolutely silly the things we really feel and are convinced of when we say them out loud. but, it's true. i've felt like a worthless piece of crap. meanwhile, i had a dream last night explaining that quite clearly. that my vision of myself is incredibly distorted. (oh gee. really? that's a surprise.)

this evening, i had a break from that. i felt like the most beautiful girl in the world. it wasn't just being called beautiful. it wasn't just being acknowledged for talent. it was all of those things, and the fact that i was enjoyed by my friends. not for any reason whatsoever, except that i exist.

i needed that more than i can say.

i needed a little encouragement (thanks to a wonderful chat with iain, the day got off to a good start, i'd say.)

i just needed a little reminder that i'm not a commodity or a flavor of the week or a novelty that will surely wear off.

today was a really nice day off. and it was nice to feel like a lovely girl.

it was nice to feel a bit more like myself.

p.s. allergies are wack.

p.s.s. i said wack?

p.s.s.s. i can't ever remember what shade of foundation i wear. (oh probably because i dont wear it very often.)

p.s.s.s.s. why is it that i'm always matched up at a different shade evvvverytime?

p.s.s.s.s.s. tomorrow is the first of halloweeny celebrations.

p.s.s.s.s.s.s. i got a wig and chopped it. pictures to come.

babe.

i'm pretty sure if you look up the word, 'babe'... this face will come up.

also, thanks mark ronson, for the tunes.

luna.

last night, i lost my mind.

anger surfaced and found its home in well-formed words, which ranted and raved and this heart sang a song of fury and weakness. tears came. the kind that prick your eyes. screaming left the throat sore. that ache, that wailing, that frustration, that deep groan of the soul that refuses to be quieted. the one that questions the existence of heaven while declaring that a touch from it is the only thing that will do. sometimes those moments of absolute violent honesty are necessary to a soul like mine.

last night i lost my mind.

something shifted for better or for worse.

i feel like a drill sergeant for the special forces has pushed me to my limits and handed my arse to me on a platter, only to show me, we've only just begun... and i have more in me than this.

why is losing or failure an option?

last night, i lost my mind.

and it may have been just what i needed.

hungry bunny. [count your blessings]

i was sitting on the porch at crema today, reading an article on happiness/contentment in elle magazine. that is, after the one about this new-fangled lipo for random places like the knees. nevertheless, this article followed by the one on emily blunt really got me thinking. i mean, to the point that a guy was walking down the street with headphones on, rapping... just ambling along in his own groove. and it warmed my heart a little, because despite whatever potentially was going on, he looked so content. and i wondered if he was, or if it was just my creative imagination projecting on the situation.

the point is that, i've been a very unhappy girl as of late. and it sort of doesn't make sense. i've just moved back to nashville. i'm surrounded by amazing friends. i have a place of my own. i found a job rather quickly. there are a few other things blooming here and there. but, all i can think about is how i am getting by the skin of my teeth financially, how i'm walking on eggshells and i'm afraid of everyone (see last post), and how i am not in london. sigh.

i was talking with clive the other day and just had this realisation... er was reminded that london is absolutely where i want to be. even if i just live there for 6 months... i have to do it. it's not some random passing thing. you can't blame it on the fact that this boy has my attention or that i just have my heart set on this or that opportunity. i have been madly in love with england since about 12 years old. i haven't been able to shake it for 15 years. uh. clearly, i'm not playing around with some whim. unfortunately a thousand things play into my not being there. i'm working toward it. and while i'm here in the us... as a citizen of the united states of america, the place i wish to call home, (nashville) i am calling home.

the problem is when my vision gets distorted, and the thing i'm passionate about... my hearts desires, my pursuit of these dreams bigger than myself, suddenly become all about me... i'm acutely aware of the impossibilities. suddenly i am my own worst critic, and not in a good way... and then i am wailing on myself yet again for not making a straight a grade that only i am holding myself to. dont get me wrong. this is going to take work, not just sitting on my arse twittling my thumbs, wishing and hoping and dreaming. thing is, i'm not afraid of that work.

i'm afraid of and tired of a lot of work with nothing much to show for it.

it's just the hurry i am in... the constant discontentment... the mistrust... and for what? anxiety attacks, low self-esteem, insecurity which leads to all sorts of stupidity. i'm only fooling myself if i believe for even a moment that there is a safe way to move through life... that i can engage, i mean, really engage with other human beings... that i can stay open and real and alive and not get hurt or disappointed.

now, let's be real here. i'm super frustrated with this standstill. i am angry with people not coming through. i am tired of the feeling that for every door that opens, i get 2 slammed in my face. i am tired of crying and being so well acquainted with melancholy. i am tired of trusting just to be let down again. but in the meantime, i have a lot to be thankful for. we are moving toward the thanksgiving season, after all. but much of the time, it's hard to even get excited or thankful, because rather than blessings in our hands, it feels like carrots dangled in front of us that make us keep moving, but will eventually be snatched from grasp.

and i am a hungry bunny.

which brings me back to this whole concept of resting in the tension.

it also reminds me of the parable of the talents.

perhaps it isn't about investing money with abandon.

maybe there's another way of taking it.

maybe it's about investing ourselves.

maybe it's about loving extravagantly.

maybe someone figured out, it's much easier to just maintain. shut down. hold it together. engage, just enough in this world. you keep moving, but play it safe.

but it just doesn't make for a good story to say, "i lived. i gained nothing. it cost me nothing. i said hello. they said hello back. i tried. oh well." it's the "almost" story.

maybe the first guys in the parable lost a few times before they made a profit. maybe we get our hearts broken, while learning to love well. maybe we are tempted to lose heart and grow weary on the journey to making something bigger than us happen.

if i keep moving forward and i enjoy what's around me every step of the way... if i love extravagantly. if i give all. if i don't withdraw and i stay alive and all of these things. well, no one will ever hear the story of nitasha jackson and say, "gosh. she didn't even try. she settled. that was boring character in a boring story. she could've been something special, but decided to settle down instead. her life was safe. that's nice. yawn."

no.

no!

i guess what i'm saying is, this sucks. it's hard. but i'm learning to be thankful for what's in my hands. not to settle for second best, but not to disregard or be ungrateful for what i have. i guess i'm learning to be content in all situations while running this race, so to speak. because contentment keeps the hopelessness at bay in our pursuit of happiness, and joy is the strength to keep going... one day at a time.

it's a shame shame shame. baby, it's a crying shame.

i have no idea why i'm awake.

except to tell you (dear reader) that i have been allowing worry and anxiety to jack up my world.

a friend said to me today, "it's so hard for you to settle, because you're walking on eggshells around everyone... so concerned with what everyone thinks of you."

i was having coffee with another friend the other night, and we were talking of many things. and suddenly i had this moment of realisation that, i am constantly referencing my need to love people better. i am constantly critiquing my ability to pour out my heart. the thing is, i'm really not so good at receiving. i find it really really difficult to just relax in most relationships. because as soon as love or affection or whatever is communicated back to me, i begin to prepare for the withdraw. in my head, i become acutely aware of the fact that the person in question will soon discover whatever it is that has been discovered by everyone else who has ever left my world, and that they too will leave.

just typing that makes me realise how silly it is.

it doesn't stop it from being any less true.

i'm tired.

and i would very much like this cyclone to stop.

(to be continued...)

those songs that spring from conversations...

it's only just bloomed lately

it's in the words, dear

pull me out of shadows

pull me out of here

i have asked the minutes

not to move so fast

they had no time to listen

stealing glances as they passed

tell me slowly

all you can

say the truth

and i'll understand

i'll let myself go for you

and if i breathed my secrets

and laid them down beside your ear

would you pull me out of shadows

or send me far away from here

your arms are strong around me

and quiet down the storm inside my head

it will not overcome me

or steal away the words that you have said

tell me slowly

all you can

say the truth

and i'll understand

i'll let myself go for you