unsure

I’m sure unsure. Everything seems pale and faded, especially that what I thought I wanted so much. I have to decide soon, this coming Monday. I will do some calls tomorrow and I think not that I will be online or at least communicative till I have placed my thoughts. I might be making a horrible decision, either way. Whatever very plain, white door I choose. But the one I toed recently seems so… so… hard and demanding and at this current moment I am assure that I’m not able to achieve satisfying results if I choose to stride through that yellowing door.

I recently said to a very good female friend, that what a friend I would be if I stood in her way or make her feel bad and sad, if she wish to part from me and journey off somewhere else. I feel bad and sad that I might not be choosing the door favorable for my friends. They are friends. I’m so confused. Utterly confused.

Italy, early 1980s

in front of a very plain, white wall

I’m in front of a very plain, white wall. The wall opposite is full of very plain, white doors. All of them are open. All of them waiting for me to walk through them. I would really like to walk through all of them, yes – every single one of them and taste, feel, hear what they have to offer but I could currently never, ever shut one of those very plain, white doors. Shutting one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight doors off would be committing myself to door number nine or maybe to door number ten. I want to commit myself, I really do but I can’t decide, I can’t put myself to decide which door to choose and I know by not choosing I am making the most worst choice of all. I have to choose. I have to commit. But to which one? Which very plain, very white door am I willing to commit myself to? Which one seems right? Which one offers me what I need? Is the one I want, the one I need? Is the one I would like to need, really the one I momentarily crave to want? Through a decision a couple of months ago, I am now in front of a very plain, white wall – sensing nothing, knowing nothing. Do I still want to stick by that decision, long term? Or should I make it a short term thing, a holiday? Should I change the dates? Start now?

At the moment I am the egg in this breakfast, not the bacon. I’m involved but not committed. I want to be committed. I need to decide. I need to walk through one door and see it through. Not deciding is worse, proven to be the worst decision than choosing the ugliest very plain, white door. Having back up plans is turning out to be everything but a good thing. Everything is turning into a maze of corridors full of very plain, white doors neatly arranged and spaced, all gaping open, all awaiting. Nonsensical.

Most people don’t know I am standing in front of a very plain, white wall surrounded by a maze of corridors of very plain, white doors. A handful know that I have toed into one certain door frame but I have yet to walk into the room behind it. And is it the room I want? Long term? Short term? Peek a boo?

I need to commit. But how and to what? The only criteria I have is my tertiary education and how it would develop. At the moment the toed door frame paint of white is fading to a used yellow. Slight hints of being involved but not committed. There is no deadline. Other than February 15th. Because I’m not the only one involved. And others should not be affected because of my lack of commitment or fear of it.

Some say have a go, try that door. But if I try that door, I would need to commit to it – I’ve had enough of being involved, just being involved. It’s not working anymore. Nearly 1.5 years of being involved and not committed. I’m sorry but no thank you. It’s either committed or another very plain, white door.

I don’t want to choose nothing or wait and see, because that’s not what it is about. Damn.

Would you like eggs or bacon with that cheese sandwich?

Stubborn imperfections

I wish I could say, it matters but I can’t. My freshly clipped, Revlon Red nail polished fingernails move smoothly over the keyboard, which is resting in my lap. I’m in bed. Where else would I be? Sometimes I feel bedridden, bedrueselt. Hair spilling out on to my shoulders from it’s loose bun. I want McDonalds. I want candy. I feel hideous. I feel hideous and I want sweets. A lot of I’s going on. Yes, I’m self centered. Who gives a crap? Sometimes it feels like I’m the only person (though I have to exclude my mother) that cares about me. Except the sweets and candy’s industry. They like selling me candy, selling me the idea that candy makes you feel better. It does, ironically. Maybe because I believe them? But candy makes you fat. So do carbs, well so I am told, carbs bind water. So they don’t make you fat in sense of you gaining in fat itself but in water, which balloons you (just like fat though) and makes the scales climb up a pound or two. I don’t like climbing scales. I like candy. Love – Hate relationship? Maybe. Oh a keyword – relationships, matters of love. I wish, I wish, I wish upon a star… that I could care less, that it would matter, that something would happen or that it wouldn’t. Seems so odious at the moment. Transition phases suck. Though love sucks so, it makes you turn to candy sometimes and I eat too much of it as it is. But then again, wouldn’t I have more of a proper reason to it? Lovesick that is? Than pre-then-post mentrusual cravings? I think I want something to happen. I need something to happen. I need. I. I. I. I. Infinite. Wait, no. Maybe I should just stop eating candy – I have stopped eating candy currently because there isn’t any in the house, that’s why I’m in such a bad mood, candy crisis. I should stop writing about candy. Stop.

I am unsure. About the following things. My hair. My non existent love life. My move. My yet non existent health insurance. My application. My work. The job situation. The German taxation laws. Not a lot, but plenty to fill my head with endless loops of video clips of various scenarios. Can’t I just be empty inside for once? Or not be empty? I feel stuffed and deflated at the same time. Is this normal?

Is life really worth living? Should I just become a housewife with three children and munch on all the candy I want? Would that satisfy me a longterm or even shortterm basis? Has my life experience blocked many roads, burnt many bridges because simple stuff can’t / wouldn’t be able to satisfy me anymore? It would be dull? Have I lost touch with reality the last couple of months because I haven’t socialized? I stay in bed, ridden with thoughts of visual porn of candy and see above’s.

Spilling rubbish out is good, sorry if I have ruined your evening but now you know what my day thoughts are occupied with. Absolute and complete rubbish.

Got candy?

I’ve started a postcrossing account. Here a postcard which is to be sent next week.

Submerging

I was too tired to blog yesterday. And when I woke up this morning, what I dreaded had happened – I have an earache, a nasty earache. My ears are popping and my head hurts like hell. I was going to go out and get some stuff done (“stuff” like going to the library, the flight centre, printing photos, the post office, food shopping) but I didn’t get out of bed till 10 am, had a long shower and then decided FYU and dumped myself in front of the television for mindless entertainment which was so monotone that I forgot about my headache. Then the day flew past, Mum came home and passed me my certified copies of my documents which enabled (wicked word) to complete my online application for Edith Cowan University, yes exactly changing my university and what is maybe even more “shocking” changing my major from Chemistry to Finance and Marketing. It’s also a fully external course so that means I can still move to Berlin (yes, Lennart – I do not change such awesome plans ♡), work and live in Berlin and study without losing any “time” (because it’s so precious and *insert authoritative rambles here*) – and yes, I really want to go into the business sector. I love the course and unit outlines and the possibilities. Chemistry just didn’t do it for me. Better out now then get stucked with something so boringly scientific. Before I completed the application I went to McDonalds. I love McDonalds so much I just spent my postage and photo money on a big menu and sundae. And now fully satisfied, I feel guilty. Sorry folks, you will just have to wait. And wait.

Frankie left her couch surfer’s place to stay with Aaron. I miss Aaron. Jeez – how will I survive the next sixty one days without anyone? Any one. no one. Wait – Uni is starting again, I’ll just visit them. And on Thursday I’ll start walking around the lake the whole morning. Out and about. Maybe stop the McDonalds cravings? That’s all I have is cravings at the moment. Pre-Menstrual? Was that just a No No Word in a blog? Like Miscarriage? If so, I don’t care. And yes, through iCal I have found out – it’s pre menstrual cravings. Damn you womanhood, first you scare me with breast growth, then I bleed, then when I want pleasure you get me scared of pregnacy and to top it off you want to get me fat! Dear Mothernature, I wish I could bitch slap you – just once!Another three and a half hours left and then I can take some painkillers. Sleep through the night.

I wondered how long it will take to find out about the application results. Maybe five to ten working days? Maybe less, maybe more? Hm.

I read something very interesting today about Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis,how can you think about something that isn’t defined? That thoughts are dialogues and without proper language we fail to think coherently. Awesome stuff, I’m going to read more about it.

Anyone know Blender well? Because I’m now going to launch and learn it.

Edith Cowan University, Perth – Faculty of Finance and Law

Kindly don’t

I’m not going to start with the words "It’s been a while" or "A new start" because it’s been neither and yet is both. I’m going to leave this blog uncommented to it’s meaning, it’s past and it’s future. It’s about this moment. Every thing else, every moment else is an illusion. The past has been and everyone remembers it differently because emotions influence how we perceive "things" and therefore everyone lives in their own reality – the future is what we dream of it to be and those dreams are dominated by our past and our reality. So why bother defining it, defining my past – present and future to you? It isn’t yours to regard. Defining does not mean I can’t share it with you, I like sharing and I will share.

Currently my head is full of thoughts, little movie clips on replay the moment I regain awareness, which I by the way regain again alone. Frankie has left to Melbourne, leaving me with an empty bed and a some what broken heart. It doesn’t seem right, the days Thursday are mashed to one big one only interrupted by somewhat regular sleeping patterns. We skyped yesterday, her voice seems divine when not disrupted by static. How fond can one grow of a person? I think these six weeks have answered that question for me. And now I feel like this picture. Shadowed.

The past couple of days have been full of cleaning up my paper work and room, cleaning up my MacBook, updating and deleting Apps on both MB and iPod Touch, fiddling around with Bender and Sketchup (very important -> Project Windmill), getting ready for The Big Day (TBD)and continuing my pursuit of tertiary education, speaking of that I have an appointment tomorrow concerning it – have to get up fairly early to take the train up north. Everything other than the Fremantle line seems to feel like "ghetto", is it me or is it really "ghetto"? Or wait, am I a spoilt brat only used to living in "good, up market" areas of cities? Do I need pepper spray tomorrow? Thank you parents for making me so street wise.

Because my poor MacBook is suffering after nearly two years of use, it’s cover is chipping a bit, I had to redo the stickers. So here is my new exterior. I quite like it – especially the Batman sticker. Wear and tear as they say. I don’t even know if I want to buy a new laptop some day, I know I will have to but I grow so fond of mine. I still have most of the harddrive space (4/5 to be exact) and it works fine, I’m buying 10.6 tomorrow – so I won’t have to worry about it when TBD happens. Only 63 days left.

I’m off to bed. Catch you tomorrow.