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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avere existere

You know, I wrote something to a friend today, and afterwards I realized, "What a classic case of existentialist despair."

So simple, am I.

I've been in an existential crisis since I was little.

But it got me thinking: Isn't it funny, in this silly, mocking universe, that probably a little bit of artificial chemical tweak of my brain chemistry and all of the undulations of my existence could have been smoothed to a smooth sandstone, or a windbeaten granite?

Yeah, I know.

I don't believe in drugs though. Not at all. That is not at all a comment on other people using drugs, so please don't take it that way. Everyone is different and everyone has different needs. But I have firm opinions with respect to myself and my own life.

The more that I have undulated in my life in and out of the various dark spots in which I've found myself, the more adamantly against drugs I've become.

I want to face the naked truth, and only the truth, and figure out a way to deal with the naked truth with the only resources I will always have available: those in my own brain. (Sounds a bit harrowingly like Ic@rus flying close to the sun, doesn't it?)

It's a perilous path at times, and probably one that involves a great deal of wasted time. But I'm determined to continue on this path. Also, there's probably a little bit of not liking what drugs do the the body. Ultimately, my body is my most precious belonging, and I'm its caretaker.

Maybe I'm so adamant because I can see that I'm gradually getting better at this. The dips are no longer so low, and they don't last very long. And even when they do, I'm able to separate myself from them and see them for what they are. Sometimes I can even laugh at them.

It takes a colossal amount of energy, but it's the path I choose.

It's like running. (And again, this pertains only to me and how I feel about running.) If I want to run I need to go out and run. Getting on a treadmill with a tv or with a magazine is strange to me. It's trying to do the activity by actively avoiding doing the actual activity to varying degrees.

I don't like avoidance. It bothers me. I think because I'm bloody impatient to get to the truth. I suspect I'll never find it. It feels a bit like digging through an endless box of cereal for some little plastic prize.

And the little plastic prize could possibly have substituted for it faith, but I've yet to see unwavering faith in my life, and so even that seems nearly unbelievable, like a unicorn.

I realized something else this morning: I'm much better one-on-one. That's always been true in person, but it's also true in writing. When I'm writing to someone, the story line becomes clear. And with the "right" person, the tone is new and surprising.

But when I'm here, as when I'm muddling along in my life, the white box drains the detail and the colour from my stories. In fact, it stares at me as if to say, "What stories?"
And so I shrivel into forgetting.

I'm glad to be up early. I've cut out drinking wine in the evening completely - it's too hot for alcohol, anyhow, so it's nice to be up and relaxed ahead of yoga.

I'll go to yoga today, and then to get my hair cut. In between, actually, I'm going to buy some new charcoal and pencils. I sat and copied part of one of Degas's bathers last night. It was very meditative. Only my supplies are a bit lacking. When I was a little girl I used to sketch with pastel all the time, but I hated the messiness.

Oh well!

There's also a showing of Roman HOliday on an outdoor screen tonight, if I remember correctly. I want to go. I think that C. has in mind a Caribana type of festival instead, but that might be too raucous for me. I hope I can go to the film showing by myself.

Have a good weekend!

9:30 a.m. - 2009-08-15

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