"I'm just a face in the crowd
Nothing to worry about
Not even trying to stand out
I'm getting smaller and smaller and smaller
And I've got nothing to say
Its all been taken away
I just behave and obey
I'm afraid I'm starting to fade away..."
It's so beautiful and sunny outside. Hot, too, if those builders in their shorts are anything to go by. It's crazy to think that about a week and a half ago there was just concrete in the back yard... then, over the course of a day, the framing for the first floor went up... then, just last friday, we came home and the second floor was up too, and the framing for that. It's all happened so fast, it makes me wonder what takes so long when a house is built... Dad says the plumbing and the electricity, and the furnishing, and things like that.
Anyway, it's so beautiful and sunny outside, but inside this house it's freezing. Or maybe it's just me? I've had to move my computer out to the lounge because my room is an icebox. I'll need the electric blanket on my bed soon. And it's still March!
I'm so annoyed with the amount of work I have to do. I've got a written assignment, a 1500 word essay, a sight-singing assessment and a close reading test all on the go all at once this week. I suppose I should've started all this stuff earlier, but nobody told me to. I guess this is my first taste of how Uni is different from school.
But I can't even say that's why I haven't been blogging or commenting or facebooking or beboing or any of that rubbish. I'm constantly very much in danger of making Jared my whole world, forgetting there is more to life, there are more friends and there's more work and other things to do. I have to discipline myself. But even the most time we two can spend together doesn't feel like enough. I'm not sure what to do about it.
My parents were away all weekend down in Christchurch with Meredith and Phil (my sister and her partner) for a much-needed break from the stresses of having a dying mother...
...anyway. Mum said I could have Jared over to stay the weekend, which was astounding; she's very paranoid about no-sex-before-marriage and all that jazz... but she seems to trust us. Which makes me feel bad as we'd already violated her wishes in that respect. But it doesn't matter, really... Jared is my soulmate. We will get married, we just can't afford to right now. It's all just a matter of time.
It was really fun. It was like a little taste of the life we'll have together when we finally save enough to go flatting or buy our own house. It seems strange in this day and age what with career women and whatnot but I have a real housewife-y streak in me- I love cooking for Jared, or with him. I get really excited when I think about future meals and things, and about making the house look nice. Even cleaning doesn't seem so bad when I'm doing it for him. Which I can tell is going to come in handy when we're living together.
I went in to visit Nana on Friday morning and she was so pleased to see me, it was very warm fuzzies. She seems a lot better after going through a hell of a lot of pain because of this operation they gave her to try and prolong her life. We were having a lovely peaceful time until my Uncle Richard showed up.
Richard's a pastor in his family's church. I'm not sure if anyone reading knows this, but my family is really quite Christian... my personal close family is the least religious of the bunch, and Auntie Christine (my mum's sister) and Uncle Richard's bunch are the most.
Anyway, he showed up in Nana's hospital room, in "pastor" mode, and started talking to her about death. He was asking her how she felt about it and going on about "a better place" and "where you belong", and every so often- twice in the space of about twenty minutes- he would notice I was quiet, elbow me in the ribs and say, "Pretty deep stuff eh Sheen!" Nana told him I was working things (spiritual beliefs) out myself, and I said that I'd rather figure it out myself than trust what anyone else fed me, and he said fair enough; but in true Christian style, he decided in his mind that this made me an Athiest, and showed me this little trick with his watch, saying "if I threw all the components of this watch up into the air, how many times would it take for the pieces to fall back into the shape of a watch?", which is supposed to say how could the world have come about by chance. I am not an Athiest!
Then, when I got up to go put my coffee cup in the rubbish bin, he shuffled over and took my place sitting right next to Nana, and she asked him to pray for her before he left. So he took her hand and turned his back towards me- a true cold shoulder. As if me joining in on this prayer would poison it or corrupt it. When he finally left I was in tears.
Lately I've been feeling as if I've reached an age where nobody- least of all me- knows quite what to do with me or how to behave around me. I am an unknown entity. Am I an adult? A child? Do I belong to a religion or not? Am I a friend or an enemy? Do I have full responsibility over myself or can I let others make decisions for me? Who are my friends? Who is my family?
The whole world wants to define me, and I evade its grasp- not because I don't want to be defined, but because I'm not finished yet. Let me do it myself. Don't force me into a mold of someone I will be sick of in five years' time.
I just saw the wood for the roof supports being delivered. Soon the skeleton of the house, its body, will be finished. And then the complicated stuff will begin.
For seventeen years I've been making the skeleton of myself, growing it, letting the plumbers and the electricians and the interior decoraters run riot, swap seats, have food fights, throw parties. Now maybe it's time to sit them all down and get to work on who I really want to be.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Insomnia
"Tell me where our time went, and if it was time well spent
Just don't let me fall asleep feeling empty again
Cause I feel I might break
And I feel I can't take this
Tonight I'll lie awake, feeling empty..."
I can't go through this another night, I surely can't.
Tonight's even worse because there's nobody for me to talk to.
I really should know better than to watch Grey's Anatomy when I have a relative in hospital.
Tonight there was the story of an old couple, where the wife had had multiple operations on a tumor in her brain; so many that every time she went in to have another one, the couple would say "goodbye darling" "goodbye my love"; and when she came back out they'd say hello again.
The wife signed a do-not-resuscitate form, and the husband agreed. But of course, this being Grey's, she didn't come through the surgery, and the husband wouldn't let her go... he continued to keep her heart beating just by pressing on her chest. He said, "I can't let her go. I can't be the one to let her go."
I know the doctors are doing everything they can for my Nana. They're trying to get her well enough to come home; since she can't move herself on her bed at present, and she's too heavy for Mum to move, she has to stay in hospital and get stronger. But... what if something happens in hospital? What if she dies? How can I know, knowing they know she's not going to live that much longer, that they'll do all they can to keep her alive? Is there even any point?
And if she does get well enough to come home, and she dies here... wouldn't she have been better off in the hospital? Couldn't they have done something? Again, is there even any point?
I should know better than to torture myself with "what if". To worry about things that I can't do anything about. But it's me... of course I think these things.
I don't understand how day can be so easy to exist in and night so hard. What is it about the dark and the quiet that brings out the bad feelings in me? In us?
How must Nana be feeling, all alone in that hospital ward? I would hate it. I would want to come home. It's not cold in the hospital, not overly, but it makes me shiver... and the instant I'm alone, it makes me shake. I would hate it. So dark, so cold. So alone. So quiet.
One of the things I fear most in this wide world is silence. I'm terrified of going deaf- not an irrational fear considering the gigs I've played and the music I've listened to. As long as I could still hear I could handle any other sense being lost. But if I lost my ability to listen... if my life was consumed by silence... to never hear my beloved's voice again or listen to him coaxing beautiful sounds out of his instrument, or the wind in the trees, or the sound of John Petrucci shredding with such soul, or the piercing cry of two voices in perfect harmony, or the swish of my beautiful girls in ball gowns, the hum of excited talk, the sound of my Nana's piano, though slightly flat, still giving me a way to express my soul. My whole soul's expression is through sound.
I don't know where I'm going with this ridiculous ramble. I only know that I can't do anything else... I can't distract myself with the rest of the internet, with facebook or bebo, or hotmail or msn, or internet games or blog sites or online comics... or with the Sims or designing houses, or thinking about my future wedding (which is what I usually do when I'm upset). I can't settle on a song to listen to or a book to read. And even if I did have someone to talk to I have no idea what I'd say.
I can't let her go. I could never be the one to let her go.
Just don't let me fall asleep feeling empty again
Cause I feel I might break
And I feel I can't take this
Tonight I'll lie awake, feeling empty..."
I can't go through this another night, I surely can't.
Tonight's even worse because there's nobody for me to talk to.
I really should know better than to watch Grey's Anatomy when I have a relative in hospital.
Tonight there was the story of an old couple, where the wife had had multiple operations on a tumor in her brain; so many that every time she went in to have another one, the couple would say "goodbye darling" "goodbye my love"; and when she came back out they'd say hello again.
The wife signed a do-not-resuscitate form, and the husband agreed. But of course, this being Grey's, she didn't come through the surgery, and the husband wouldn't let her go... he continued to keep her heart beating just by pressing on her chest. He said, "I can't let her go. I can't be the one to let her go."
I know the doctors are doing everything they can for my Nana. They're trying to get her well enough to come home; since she can't move herself on her bed at present, and she's too heavy for Mum to move, she has to stay in hospital and get stronger. But... what if something happens in hospital? What if she dies? How can I know, knowing they know she's not going to live that much longer, that they'll do all they can to keep her alive? Is there even any point?
And if she does get well enough to come home, and she dies here... wouldn't she have been better off in the hospital? Couldn't they have done something? Again, is there even any point?
I should know better than to torture myself with "what if". To worry about things that I can't do anything about. But it's me... of course I think these things.
I don't understand how day can be so easy to exist in and night so hard. What is it about the dark and the quiet that brings out the bad feelings in me? In us?
How must Nana be feeling, all alone in that hospital ward? I would hate it. I would want to come home. It's not cold in the hospital, not overly, but it makes me shiver... and the instant I'm alone, it makes me shake. I would hate it. So dark, so cold. So alone. So quiet.
One of the things I fear most in this wide world is silence. I'm terrified of going deaf- not an irrational fear considering the gigs I've played and the music I've listened to. As long as I could still hear I could handle any other sense being lost. But if I lost my ability to listen... if my life was consumed by silence... to never hear my beloved's voice again or listen to him coaxing beautiful sounds out of his instrument, or the wind in the trees, or the sound of John Petrucci shredding with such soul, or the piercing cry of two voices in perfect harmony, or the swish of my beautiful girls in ball gowns, the hum of excited talk, the sound of my Nana's piano, though slightly flat, still giving me a way to express my soul. My whole soul's expression is through sound.
I don't know where I'm going with this ridiculous ramble. I only know that I can't do anything else... I can't distract myself with the rest of the internet, with facebook or bebo, or hotmail or msn, or internet games or blog sites or online comics... or with the Sims or designing houses, or thinking about my future wedding (which is what I usually do when I'm upset). I can't settle on a song to listen to or a book to read. And even if I did have someone to talk to I have no idea what I'd say.
I can't let her go. I could never be the one to let her go.
Chapter One: Inevitability
"Spinning round and round it goes,
I can't let up, I can't let go,
Out of control, my wheels in constant motion."
My Nana and I are very close. She's about the only person in my whole family who I feel connected with; the only person I never get angry at or frustrated with. A kindred spirit in my family full of christians, drama queens and hypocrites.
A few years ago she had breast cancer. Luckily the doctors were able to operate and they removed one of her breasts, annihilating the cancer. At the time the only thing that worried me about it was that it was possible my mum, my sister or I could get it in the future; it might be hereditary.
A few weeks ago Nana started complaining of pains in her chest. We took her to the doctor, who sent her to hospital to get scans and things and sent us home with pain drugs, and we settled down to wait for the results.
Then the pain developed into something else. Nana started having difficulty breathing. So we took her to the doctor again, who diagnosed fluid in the lungs and sent us home with drugs for clearing unnecessary fluid in the body.
My Nana and I are the same. We hate taking pills.
When the breathing problem didn't get better, we went back to the doctor a third time. He acknowledged there was something else wrong and packed her off to hospital. They did more scans and x-rays and things. They couldn't do the scan they wanted to because they had to put dyes through her kidneys and they were too dehydrated from those pills the doctor gave her last time, so we had to wait a while. But they finally got around to it.
The fluid in my Nana's lungs has cancer cells in it. They've also migrated into a bone in the front of her chest. The doctors can operate on the bone and slow down the growth of the cancer, but they can't cure her. They can't make it go away. And they can't yet say how long she has left. Dad thinks it could be up to three months. I remember my heart stopping when he said that. Three months.
This isn't right. She's been around forever. She has to be here for my sister's wedding, for my wedding. For the birth of her first blood great-grandchild. For my graduation. For my life...
When I walked into the hospital today I felt awful. I really hate hospitals... they make me feel nauseous, but not in my stomach, in my heart. It's like all the pain and worry and sadness that's gone on inside that building has somehow seeped into the walls and the lino floors, the doors, the elevators. I know that good things sometimes happen in hospitals too... people do get better, babies are born... but to me, and especially today, a hospital is a hotel for the dying.
Nana is so weak. It's just... so weird to see her like this. Her mind is sharp as ever, but her body is letting her down... she can't walk, she can't even shuffle up in the bed by herself. Every movement causes her pain. Her voice is so quiet and wavery... not that she was a loud person before, but she has always had a firm, strong voice. She's so tired and sleepy all the time... she said "I just want to sleep". I don't know if I have words to sum up how different she is, except for this: she's dying. And there's nothing we can do about it.
Every time I speak to her I think "this is one of the last times I'll say this"... I shouldn't, I should stop myself because it just upsets me, but it's true. It's true.
The day I found out we were losing her, I didn't want to think about it- I still don't. If I close my eyes I'll start thinking about her, but if people can just leave me alone, not touch me, not hug me, just let me sit and stare... it's like I can slow down time. That night I didn't want to sleep. I was afraid of dreaming, or thinking, or waking up and forgetting. I stayed up till 4am deliberately not thinking. I just want to escape. Get me out of this world gone mad.
Last night was okay because I got to snuggle down in the arms of my beloved, but tonight will be another sleepless one.
I don't want to sleep. Nana can have my unused slumber. And soon she'll be under the deepest sleep of all.
I don't want to sleep.
I don't know what I'm going to do without her.
I can't let up, I can't let go,
Out of control, my wheels in constant motion."
My Nana and I are very close. She's about the only person in my whole family who I feel connected with; the only person I never get angry at or frustrated with. A kindred spirit in my family full of christians, drama queens and hypocrites.
A few years ago she had breast cancer. Luckily the doctors were able to operate and they removed one of her breasts, annihilating the cancer. At the time the only thing that worried me about it was that it was possible my mum, my sister or I could get it in the future; it might be hereditary.
A few weeks ago Nana started complaining of pains in her chest. We took her to the doctor, who sent her to hospital to get scans and things and sent us home with pain drugs, and we settled down to wait for the results.
Then the pain developed into something else. Nana started having difficulty breathing. So we took her to the doctor again, who diagnosed fluid in the lungs and sent us home with drugs for clearing unnecessary fluid in the body.
My Nana and I are the same. We hate taking pills.
When the breathing problem didn't get better, we went back to the doctor a third time. He acknowledged there was something else wrong and packed her off to hospital. They did more scans and x-rays and things. They couldn't do the scan they wanted to because they had to put dyes through her kidneys and they were too dehydrated from those pills the doctor gave her last time, so we had to wait a while. But they finally got around to it.
The fluid in my Nana's lungs has cancer cells in it. They've also migrated into a bone in the front of her chest. The doctors can operate on the bone and slow down the growth of the cancer, but they can't cure her. They can't make it go away. And they can't yet say how long she has left. Dad thinks it could be up to three months. I remember my heart stopping when he said that. Three months.
This isn't right. She's been around forever. She has to be here for my sister's wedding, for my wedding. For the birth of her first blood great-grandchild. For my graduation. For my life...
When I walked into the hospital today I felt awful. I really hate hospitals... they make me feel nauseous, but not in my stomach, in my heart. It's like all the pain and worry and sadness that's gone on inside that building has somehow seeped into the walls and the lino floors, the doors, the elevators. I know that good things sometimes happen in hospitals too... people do get better, babies are born... but to me, and especially today, a hospital is a hotel for the dying.
Nana is so weak. It's just... so weird to see her like this. Her mind is sharp as ever, but her body is letting her down... she can't walk, she can't even shuffle up in the bed by herself. Every movement causes her pain. Her voice is so quiet and wavery... not that she was a loud person before, but she has always had a firm, strong voice. She's so tired and sleepy all the time... she said "I just want to sleep". I don't know if I have words to sum up how different she is, except for this: she's dying. And there's nothing we can do about it.
Every time I speak to her I think "this is one of the last times I'll say this"... I shouldn't, I should stop myself because it just upsets me, but it's true. It's true.
The day I found out we were losing her, I didn't want to think about it- I still don't. If I close my eyes I'll start thinking about her, but if people can just leave me alone, not touch me, not hug me, just let me sit and stare... it's like I can slow down time. That night I didn't want to sleep. I was afraid of dreaming, or thinking, or waking up and forgetting. I stayed up till 4am deliberately not thinking. I just want to escape. Get me out of this world gone mad.
Last night was okay because I got to snuggle down in the arms of my beloved, but tonight will be another sleepless one.
I don't want to sleep. Nana can have my unused slumber. And soon she'll be under the deepest sleep of all.
I don't want to sleep.
I don't know what I'm going to do without her.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Foreword
So here I am again, planning to pour my heart out to strangers on a public website... although the only people who are going to be reading this are (probably) people who care about me, or at least know me. So it's more like planning to pour my heart out to people who are thoroughly sick of me already.
The main reason why I started this is because my friend Daniel- mostly known as Danny- is on this site, blogging out his life, and I love to read about it. Danny's the one who inspired me to start writing life-blogs on my myspace, and now he's moved on, I guess I've followed him... I think I also want to try and shut down at least one of my social websites (I have myspace, bebo AND facebook) and myspace is definitely the one I use least. In fact, in all honesty (which is my new policy) the only reason I was on myspace is to read Daniel's blog, because I like to keep an eye on him... I'm a mother hen.
Myspace used to be a "thing" between me, Cloe, Daniel and Ayesha- then my three best friends outside Avondale College, and my confidantes. They were all there first and Cloe cajoled me onto the silly site, and we all blogged about our lives, our loves, our hopes and our disappointments together. But now... well. Ayesha's blogs have gone private, and fair enough- I haven't made an effort to keep in touch with her, and I'm paying the price. Cloe's blogs haven't really changed since their beginning, but most of what she says are things that I could hear from her personally when I text her. Danny's blogs have moved here. And my blogs slowly petered out and stopped when I met my soulmate, Jared, because suddenly there was a sudden lack of negative drama in my life... and I just recently realized that most of what I blogged about was my dramas.
You might ask why, if my negative dramas were what I blogged about and they have stopped (or nearly so), am I starting a blog at all? My answer is a bit silly really. You see, most people I know who keep a diary keep just that- a diary, a book, physical paper with physical ink telling about their days, their nights. I used to as well, but the onset of technology has had an interesting effect on me; I find I get impatient with writing for several reasons. These are:
Hopefully this blog will be an easier way for the people I love best to keep caught up with my life and so on. A few of my friends have left Auckland (e.g. Ee Laine), and quite a few of them who are still in Auckland aren't at Auckland University (e.g. Deanna, Priscilla, Cloe, Quanny, Brooke), and quite a lot of them who are at Auckland University I haven't even encountered around campus that much yet (e.g. Sarah, Meeral, Julia, Sonali, Danny, Dhakshi), and this is my third week. I guess I'm confessing to being lazy- I don't feel I have time to write to each of these people individually- as well as concieted- who really wants to hear about all the silly stuff that happens to me, day to day, or even the serious stuff?- but there it is.
Just know that I love you all. This chapterbook is for you as much as for me.
The main reason why I started this is because my friend Daniel- mostly known as Danny- is on this site, blogging out his life, and I love to read about it. Danny's the one who inspired me to start writing life-blogs on my myspace, and now he's moved on, I guess I've followed him... I think I also want to try and shut down at least one of my social websites (I have myspace, bebo AND facebook) and myspace is definitely the one I use least. In fact, in all honesty (which is my new policy) the only reason I was on myspace is to read Daniel's blog, because I like to keep an eye on him... I'm a mother hen.
Myspace used to be a "thing" between me, Cloe, Daniel and Ayesha- then my three best friends outside Avondale College, and my confidantes. They were all there first and Cloe cajoled me onto the silly site, and we all blogged about our lives, our loves, our hopes and our disappointments together. But now... well. Ayesha's blogs have gone private, and fair enough- I haven't made an effort to keep in touch with her, and I'm paying the price. Cloe's blogs haven't really changed since their beginning, but most of what she says are things that I could hear from her personally when I text her. Danny's blogs have moved here. And my blogs slowly petered out and stopped when I met my soulmate, Jared, because suddenly there was a sudden lack of negative drama in my life... and I just recently realized that most of what I blogged about was my dramas.
You might ask why, if my negative dramas were what I blogged about and they have stopped (or nearly so), am I starting a blog at all? My answer is a bit silly really. You see, most people I know who keep a diary keep just that- a diary, a book, physical paper with physical ink telling about their days, their nights. I used to as well, but the onset of technology has had an interesting effect on me; I find I get impatient with writing for several reasons. These are:
- My writing is HUGE- I fit maybe ten average words on a line of pad paper on a good day, and maybe five on a bad day.
- I am not a fast writer, and when I try to write fast my writing gets messier and bigger and messier and bigger until I'm absolutely disgusted with the result. Despite the evidence of my messy room which is usually covered in discarded clothes and books, I am not a person who revels in messiness. I can't study or do homework in my room when it's messy, I hate it when things are colour-coordinated, and I can't stand disorganization. Can't. Stand. It.
- However, I am a very fast typer. I love the speed and neatness with which the words run onto the screen- typing can keep up with my out-of-control train of thought, and the events and changes in my life.
Hopefully this blog will be an easier way for the people I love best to keep caught up with my life and so on. A few of my friends have left Auckland (e.g. Ee Laine), and quite a few of them who are still in Auckland aren't at Auckland University (e.g. Deanna, Priscilla, Cloe, Quanny, Brooke), and quite a lot of them who are at Auckland University I haven't even encountered around campus that much yet (e.g. Sarah, Meeral, Julia, Sonali, Danny, Dhakshi), and this is my third week. I guess I'm confessing to being lazy- I don't feel I have time to write to each of these people individually- as well as concieted- who really wants to hear about all the silly stuff that happens to me, day to day, or even the serious stuff?- but there it is.
Just know that I love you all. This chapterbook is for you as much as for me.
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