whit’s fur ye’ll no go by ye.
After the past few days of wobble I’m trying very hard to stay positive today. I’m having a hard time of it given that I’m in the office attempting to complete work in a few hours on a Sunday afternoon that should really be taking me the next two weeks, but anyway.
Life is short. That’s just how it is. No one person can do everything, or even all of the things.
Every choice I make, every day, limits the experiences open to me from that moment on.
But every choice I make is still a choice to do something. To live.
I need to trust that most of the time, I will make the right choice.
I need to trust that the choices I make will help me create a path and a life that makes me happy.
I’m doing a dangerous thing tonight and writing in anger. This post may be up and back down in a matter of hours. But right now, I’m just sick of it.
To be let down in small ways should not be enough to upset me, but it is the lack of importance, lack of respect, lack of consideration for me that is signalled by the letting down that hurts. And the hurt turns to anger as I realise I am losing my trust. I am a hugely trusting person. I am loyal, and if I love you I will do anything for you.
I’ve been feeling very mortal today.
It’s almost May. This year is already one third done and I feel like it’s slipping away with nothing to show for it. But if I try to pin that thought down and define what exactly I would want to have done, I come up empty. Only a month ago I sat the GAMSAT, the biggest exam I’ve ever taken, and probably the first exam I’ve ever sat that I literally couldn’t finish. I am proud of myself for getting through it, disappointed in myself for not preparing adequately, and still not really acquiescing to the idea that I did genuinely spend the first three months of the year working hard and taking a risk for my future. If that’s not having something to show for my time I don’t know what is.
It’s interesting, I’ve noticed my posts on here are quite unfailingly positive. Probably proof I’ll never be a good writer; I hate to kill my darlings.
I definitely don’t feel positive all the time. I get hugely frustrated, and spiteful, and lonely, and desperate, and mulish, and that level of very very quiet when my inner world has gotten too big and is threatening to swallow me up. And sometimes I go to write about it, type up the first sentence, and…stop.
So I appear to be scavenging and collecting and hoarding and recording positivity.
I’m texting and talking and counting. I’m facebooking and instagramming and blogging. It’s all happening in a big flurry and all at once.
And now that I have noticed I’m doing it, I’m fascinated.
There’s a Richard Gere movie that I half-watched many years ago. It’s got Jennifer Lopez in it I think and it’s about dancing. And the whole set-up is that his wife thinks he’s cheating but actually he is just dancing, and just needs to find something special and new and exciting in his life. His wife is Susan Sarandon, and I have forgotten almost everything anyone in the movie says apart from the impression I got from one of Susan’s monologues.
This never was my town
I was not born or bred
Nor schooled here and she will not
Have me alive or dead
But yet she holds my mind
With her seedy elegance
With her gentle veils of rain
And all her ghosts that walk
And all that hide behind
Her Georgian facades
The catcalls and the pain
The glamour of her squalor
The bravado of her talk
This is a lament for Dublin, but my mind sees Edinburgh. Beautiful town.
Pieces of my heart remain scattered on the cobbles.