enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

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To open up or not to open up.

Hmmm. So how do I put this...I seem to have a strange effect on men. I don't get interest much of the time, but when I do it seems to go too far. The scientist kept on hinting today that he is falling in love with me (and the History professor, the Finnish Engineering professor, and another writer guy have been semi-stalking me with notes, photographs and gifts lately--attention always comes when one is least interested in receiving it). And then when I returned home this afternoon I found that the scientist had sent me this bit of Akh@matova poetry:

"You are many years late,
how happy I am to see you."

(I had just bought an anthology of her work earlier today.)

Sigh. I don't know. So I'm not going to talk about it for now. Instead, I've decided on a girl evening of comfort food (likely pasta), dark chocolate, and cuddling up with my knitting and the succession of chick flicks to be presented on tv tonight: A Walk in the Cl0uds, My L!fe Without M3, and The Not3book. None of these films is particularly good, but I'm very, very fond of the semi-naked Mark Ruffal0 in the middle one (and Sarah Poll3y is one of my favourite actresses).

In addition to the Akh@matova book, I finally bought Alice Munr0's Run@way. And then I felt guilty for buying more books when I already have stack that I've not yet read. But, frankly, it's seriously ridiculous that I would feel guilty about buying this book, since I've wanted to buy it for about two YEARS now. And I bought socks, a skirt, and a beautiful top to fulfill necessary Christmas party duties afterward...and felt guilty about all of this (in spite of the fact that two of the three were on sale and none of them extravagant). Can you tell that I have serious issues of guilt surrounding the spending of money!?!?!?! I live in fear about it. Not not not a good state of being. When I've bought things lately I've had to do it in a huge rush, I suspect essentially to not give myself time to change my mind.

I worry greatly that I am too fickle. Perhaps I have adult ADHD. Seriously.

The Remembrance Day Ceremony at the National War Memorial was exquisite today. The rain was cold and steady (not good for my sinuses, but certainly evocative), and when the guns were fired clouds of curling yellow smoke drifted in thick sea-waves high up in the atmosphere, in the foreground to the gothic P3ace Tower of the Parliament Buildings. I've been searching for an image of this on the Internet, but in vain. A choir of children sang throughout the ceremony; their voices echoed all along the wide avenue leading up the the monument. A single WWII plane looped a few times in wide circles overhead. And of course there were old, old men with mournful faces sitting in wheelchairs by the wreaths, Silver Cross mothers standing alongside.

Actually, you know, I am going to say something about the scientist. The best thing that he has done for me is that he has pushed me to be more honest than I have been in a long time. When we were walking and chatting today he commented that clearly I did not want to have a romantic or sexual relationship with him. What I replied spontaneously was basically that I don't think I have the self-esteem yet to be able to have a relationship with anyone in which I can give fully and fully accept what is on offer to me. I don't yet feel that I deserve to have a good relationship, and I don't yet understand why anyone would be interested in me.

And that's about as close to the exact truth that is inside my heart as I could possibly imagine; it frightens and pleases me at once that it crossed my lips. After we parted in the bookstore this afternoon I lingered, lost in thought, for a long while in the art books section. I wanted to be in the bookstore, but all the while I was loosely meditating on everything else. I sometimes used to shop when I needed to make a big decision; it was as though the activity kept the activity of my brain balanced and moving in a particular direction--any direction. And today was the same in that I felt as though there was a decision to be made, although not one that I could precisely articulate if pressed at the time.

I have had one really useful and helpful thought in recent days, which is that what I've been feeling frequently lately is actually anger. I'm rarely angry, as a rule, so it struggles to manifest itself and is duly difficult for me to identify. And it occurred to me that if depression is anger turned inward, as a counsellor once informed me, then maybe the last few years have been a kind of depressive haze, and that this time is about emerging from the chrysalis. A little release of fury perhaps does the body good, particularly if it means that the insides are no longer being ravaged by constant stress.

I don't know. Either way, for the first time in forever, I feel like I might actually be sort of...normal...and stepping out into the light instead of away from it. I'm not so frightened of what might come. And I'm not so ashamed of who I am. And I've released myself from running, which was a major trap. It's interesting. It's illuminating. At fleeting moments like this I almost believe that I can break the patterns that have held me back.

The scientist seems to be a bit of a truth serum, for I also told him that I believe that I am self-sabotoging with respect to my job. My boss hasn't even yet said a word to me about my long-term job prospects; I've been making assumptions, drawing conclusions, and reacting accordingly. It's a bit weird. I can't unconvince myself that the bottom is going to fall out at any moment.

I can't believe that I am writing all of this down. But incomplete and meandering as it is it feels marginally helpful. And it feels true. It feels true.

6:05 p.m. - 2006-11-11

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