I don't know what I expected tumours to feel like...
mandatory cancer topic
But they feel like hard fruit under her skin. She has three just below the surface, close enough I can cup them in my hands. Lumps, like a small orange. Not hard, not soft, squishy or floating. Small, static growths. Three tumours, no bigger than my curled fingers, not quite a fist.
She's dying and this is all very surreal.
Oh shit, guys. My mother is dying.
/cosmic freakout.
Friday, June 19, 2009
I melt the hearts of psychologists.
I saw Cathy yesterday, my lovely psychobabble extraordinaire. No, no, I shouldn’t say that. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. We spoke mostly about mum, and this lack of routine I have in my life. See, whereas before-
Oh fuck I can’t do this while eating, lemme finish cocopops.
Okay, where was I?
Well, whereas before I relied upon mum and Alistair to give me some semblance of structure. They would go to work, I would be at home alone for x amount of hours, they’d come home, there would be dinner. I also relied on my friends’ lives to keep me on track. Now that neither mum or Alistair are working, we’re just in this limbo. Floating. And school’s out, and Eddy and Brittany hang out here at all hours of the night. Speaking of, Kitten is asleep in the bar right now. I woke up next to him after we fell asleep watching shitty 3AM TV last night and just watching him, as much as I love him, it’s not the way I used to, and a part of me doubts I ever will feel that way for him again. In its absence, there is just this immense sadness, and grief for what we had and I fucked up.
Speaking of, there’s so much Ben doesn’t know. Know the details of. I’m scared to tell him. I know he’ll see this and will grill me, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
And again, in a similar vein, I still haven’t replied to Owen. I should, but I don’t know what to say. When you hate someone for so long, you inadvertently objectify them. When I seldom saw him, I could focus all my malcontent at him, and he became this focal point for all my shame, regret and grief for everyone affected, my life, Eddy’s life, our friendship and even for our fleeting… well, could you call it romance? My last hurrah. My flailing before being swallowed by the quicksand. Turns out, that flailing was enough to attract necessary attention to be saved, and I was pulled from the sand, only to be discarded, left cold, dirty and alone. It’s my fault for getting myself in a rut, maybe. And Eddy and I still have our fucking terrible co-dependent fuck-up, and it never stops. We can be lovers, we can be friends. He won’t stop loving me, and I don’t think I can ever love him like that again.
But since emailing Owen, with this offer of compromise, and that that semi-literate fuck took the time to speak coherently, and be rational and reasonable and retrospectively sombre and fucking sincerely sorry, it’s so hard to hate him. We fucked up so many aspects of each other’s lives with our indiscretions. Infidelity. Because I was trapped. Snowed-in. Alone.
Now that he’s a human being again, over a year since all this shit started, I don’t know if I can. The thought of him can still send me down in spirals, into tears. The sight still sends me into a panic attack. I hyperventilate. I cry. I mourn, and I still crave his approval. It’s fucked up. So, so beyond fucked.
Jesus Christ it’s cold. It’s peak hour, in Darwin, and given yes it is the Dry Season and I’m not in the sun but WHAT THE FUCK. This makes no sense.
Uhh uh, back to Cathy.
So yeah. She even cried a little. I bawled. I hate that.
She alluded that she may have lost her mother to breast cancer when she was 18.
Fucking hell, I hate being so fragile. I hate feeling helpless.
You know the way angry felines pace in cages? I feel like that.
Inside, I am just frustrated, angry, and so full of this raging, screaming, helpless grief. Trapped by circumstance. I lash out. The other day, when I was making something for dinner (something to eat while we watched The Spirit; snazzy film, screamed Darcy, though. The cheesiness, gallantry, whatnot. I rolled my eyes and felt a little pang) and I can’t remember, something wouldn’t do what I wanted and there was just this rising ire and exasperation, and I just have this twitch and I tense my fingers and move with no control and I just bit my arm. I drew blood. Then, in its wake, I just felt this emptiness and melancholy. I don’t know why. I just get so blind, I have to be violent for a second. It take so little to set me off. I have a fit and I need to do something. I’ve nearly tried to strangle Eddy, just when I need something, I bite, I claw, I cut myself. Just so much anger. At what, I don’t know.
Oh god emo.
<3
Oh fuck I can’t do this while eating, lemme finish cocopops.
Okay, where was I?
Well, whereas before I relied upon mum and Alistair to give me some semblance of structure. They would go to work, I would be at home alone for x amount of hours, they’d come home, there would be dinner. I also relied on my friends’ lives to keep me on track. Now that neither mum or Alistair are working, we’re just in this limbo. Floating. And school’s out, and Eddy and Brittany hang out here at all hours of the night. Speaking of, Kitten is asleep in the bar right now. I woke up next to him after we fell asleep watching shitty 3AM TV last night and just watching him, as much as I love him, it’s not the way I used to, and a part of me doubts I ever will feel that way for him again. In its absence, there is just this immense sadness, and grief for what we had and I fucked up.
Speaking of, there’s so much Ben doesn’t know. Know the details of. I’m scared to tell him. I know he’ll see this and will grill me, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
And again, in a similar vein, I still haven’t replied to Owen. I should, but I don’t know what to say. When you hate someone for so long, you inadvertently objectify them. When I seldom saw him, I could focus all my malcontent at him, and he became this focal point for all my shame, regret and grief for everyone affected, my life, Eddy’s life, our friendship and even for our fleeting… well, could you call it romance? My last hurrah. My flailing before being swallowed by the quicksand. Turns out, that flailing was enough to attract necessary attention to be saved, and I was pulled from the sand, only to be discarded, left cold, dirty and alone. It’s my fault for getting myself in a rut, maybe. And Eddy and I still have our fucking terrible co-dependent fuck-up, and it never stops. We can be lovers, we can be friends. He won’t stop loving me, and I don’t think I can ever love him like that again.
But since emailing Owen, with this offer of compromise, and that that semi-literate fuck took the time to speak coherently, and be rational and reasonable and retrospectively sombre and fucking sincerely sorry, it’s so hard to hate him. We fucked up so many aspects of each other’s lives with our indiscretions. Infidelity. Because I was trapped. Snowed-in. Alone.
Now that he’s a human being again, over a year since all this shit started, I don’t know if I can. The thought of him can still send me down in spirals, into tears. The sight still sends me into a panic attack. I hyperventilate. I cry. I mourn, and I still crave his approval. It’s fucked up. So, so beyond fucked.
Jesus Christ it’s cold. It’s peak hour, in Darwin, and given yes it is the Dry Season and I’m not in the sun but WHAT THE FUCK. This makes no sense.
Uhh uh, back to Cathy.
So yeah. She even cried a little. I bawled. I hate that.
She alluded that she may have lost her mother to breast cancer when she was 18.
Fucking hell, I hate being so fragile. I hate feeling helpless.
You know the way angry felines pace in cages? I feel like that.
Inside, I am just frustrated, angry, and so full of this raging, screaming, helpless grief. Trapped by circumstance. I lash out. The other day, when I was making something for dinner (something to eat while we watched The Spirit; snazzy film, screamed Darcy, though. The cheesiness, gallantry, whatnot. I rolled my eyes and felt a little pang) and I can’t remember, something wouldn’t do what I wanted and there was just this rising ire and exasperation, and I just have this twitch and I tense my fingers and move with no control and I just bit my arm. I drew blood. Then, in its wake, I just felt this emptiness and melancholy. I don’t know why. I just get so blind, I have to be violent for a second. It take so little to set me off. I have a fit and I need to do something. I’ve nearly tried to strangle Eddy, just when I need something, I bite, I claw, I cut myself. Just so much anger. At what, I don’t know.
Oh god emo.
<3
So I was hungry…
Sat down with a bowl of motherfucking Coco-Pops. Hells yes.
Ohmnomnomnom :)
Haven’t posted in a while I feel inclined to over compensate with either a crazy long post or a few today. Ben is beating me, as per post count. Not for long, bitch.
Oh yeah, it’s a blogging competition now, he just doesn’t know it.
I guess I should talk about serious shit, but meh. Not with a post title like “so I was hungry”
<3
Ohmnomnomnom :)
Haven’t posted in a while I feel inclined to over compensate with either a crazy long post or a few today. Ben is beating me, as per post count. Not for long, bitch.
Oh yeah, it’s a blogging competition now, he just doesn’t know it.
I guess I should talk about serious shit, but meh. Not with a post title like “so I was hungry”
<3
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Everything I am and not.
Fucking fuck fuck.
Why do I do this? Get myself in difficult situations.
It wouldn’t have been hard to tell him “oh, I’m seeing someone”
I can try convincing myself all I like that it’s platonic, but shit, let’s face it. I know he doesn’t intend it to be, and whatever I want I bury for validation. Am I just THAT fucked up? I can rest assured that there will be no hanky panky. I’m on my fucking period. Oh god, I’m a monster. What am I doing? I can’t honestly be considering this. Eddy and I made that decision not DAYS ago, and now I’m going out to dinner with an old fuck buddy. I know we were close, but… After what happened last time, and considering he’s been out rural for weeks on end, is this going to work? Can I get out of this alive?
I won’t cancel. I can’t run from this. It’s a nice gesture of him, and I cancelled last time he offered to make dinner for me. This is just platonic. Whatever preconceptions he has, I will dash if they arise.
Or, fuck it. I might just be someone else for a night. Get out of this house, out of this rut. Put on a new skin. Be a more confident, sexy Shannyn, not inhibited by my fear or the constraints it “felt right” to place on myself. Why do I set boundaries, if just to test them? Do I cage myself to just rail against it? What is it with me and monogamy not clicking?
I’m so far away from myself. I feel so disassociated. I don’t even know who I am anymore.
I wanna pretend for one night. Then, I’ll go back to doing the dishes, and watching him sleep and go on YouTube. I’ll make food for him, I’ll hold her hand, I’ll cry at night and I’ll swim alone inside myself.
Maybe I need one last hurrah.
I really should stop trying to justify it to myself. But, ya’know, we’ll see.
Could be good-natured.
I should have a shower.
<3
Why do I do this? Get myself in difficult situations.
It wouldn’t have been hard to tell him “oh, I’m seeing someone”
I can try convincing myself all I like that it’s platonic, but shit, let’s face it. I know he doesn’t intend it to be, and whatever I want I bury for validation. Am I just THAT fucked up? I can rest assured that there will be no hanky panky. I’m on my fucking period. Oh god, I’m a monster. What am I doing? I can’t honestly be considering this. Eddy and I made that decision not DAYS ago, and now I’m going out to dinner with an old fuck buddy. I know we were close, but… After what happened last time, and considering he’s been out rural for weeks on end, is this going to work? Can I get out of this alive?
I won’t cancel. I can’t run from this. It’s a nice gesture of him, and I cancelled last time he offered to make dinner for me. This is just platonic. Whatever preconceptions he has, I will dash if they arise.
Or, fuck it. I might just be someone else for a night. Get out of this house, out of this rut. Put on a new skin. Be a more confident, sexy Shannyn, not inhibited by my fear or the constraints it “felt right” to place on myself. Why do I set boundaries, if just to test them? Do I cage myself to just rail against it? What is it with me and monogamy not clicking?
I’m so far away from myself. I feel so disassociated. I don’t even know who I am anymore.
I wanna pretend for one night. Then, I’ll go back to doing the dishes, and watching him sleep and go on YouTube. I’ll make food for him, I’ll hold her hand, I’ll cry at night and I’ll swim alone inside myself.
Maybe I need one last hurrah.
I really should stop trying to justify it to myself. But, ya’know, we’ll see.
Could be good-natured.
I should have a shower.
<3
Monday, June 15, 2009
The time stamp on these appears to be wrong.
Can I be fucked changing my timezone? can I? really?
We shall see.
Evidently. >_>
We shall see.
Evidently. >_>
The cake was a lie.
Cake didn’t end up happening. You don’t need to comment on that, smart arse.
Something crazy was happening last night. Just PMing Brendan, and sometimes he has these moments where he’s sweet, and very human, and while it’s alarming, it’s exciting too. I kinda feel myself trill a little, that bird in my chest, higher, higher. I don’t know if it was a one off. Don’t care if I was, but it would be nice to see more of him like this. Vulnerable. Less aloof. Cute. I mean, it’s not as though I expect anything to come of it, but it’s nice. You harbour a crush on someone with a heart of stone for a few years, a change of character is lovely but reason for suspicion. Whatever! It’s all good.
Uh, uh what else?
Mum’s eating more. It’s fantastic. Like, in no small way. She’s eating food, and she’s on chemo. We can start working through this now. Maybe it’ll all be over like a bad dream soon enough.
But sometimes I sit and think, oh my god she’s dying and if they hadn’t have found it in time, she could have died but that’s silly because we’re all dying. Every moment we live we’re closer to death. Aging is dying. Our cells are dying. Except for children. I don’t think their bodies are quite breaking just yet.
She still could die, though. It can take a turn for the worst. I get scared. I don’t want to treat her like it’s her last days, but all I have in my chest is this weighted fear and regret for all trespasses against her. She’s my mother. I am essentially made from her. Her nutrients, her oxygen, her blood, all kept me alive, and brought me from a parasitic bundle of cells into sentience.
I also wonder if it’s hereditary. She was adopted. We don’t know where her mother is, if she is alive, or if she died. What if I’m likely to develop it too? Will I live to get their cancer?
Depressing and morbid. FFS.
I still need to make my aida cloth dolls. I think I may make one for the show, but it’s not that impressive. Maybe I should just do a painting, or make a cake. Do they have a portrait category? I hope so. That’d be cool. Knowing me and this city, somehow I don’t stand a chance, but let me dream.
Eun Ju invited me to a show, which is pretty dandy. The Butterfly Effect and Dead Letter Circus, playing at The Ski Club. We don’t hang out enough. She also offered to model for a pin up. God I could take advantage of that, but she’s doing the heterosexual monogamy thing, so I’ll leave it to her. I’m wondering what medium, or if I should just take photos and use them as reference material. I can’t paint with her there. Maybe take a few photos and do a sketch up. I need to get a decent canvas.
Listening to Blue Oyster Cult. Oh, be still my heart. <3
I need to go wake up Eddy soon. I feel like baking the shit out of that mother fucking cake.
Fo’ rizzle…?
I’ll be quiet now.
<3
Something crazy was happening last night. Just PMing Brendan, and sometimes he has these moments where he’s sweet, and very human, and while it’s alarming, it’s exciting too. I kinda feel myself trill a little, that bird in my chest, higher, higher. I don’t know if it was a one off. Don’t care if I was, but it would be nice to see more of him like this. Vulnerable. Less aloof. Cute. I mean, it’s not as though I expect anything to come of it, but it’s nice. You harbour a crush on someone with a heart of stone for a few years, a change of character is lovely but reason for suspicion. Whatever! It’s all good.
Uh, uh what else?
Mum’s eating more. It’s fantastic. Like, in no small way. She’s eating food, and she’s on chemo. We can start working through this now. Maybe it’ll all be over like a bad dream soon enough.
But sometimes I sit and think, oh my god she’s dying and if they hadn’t have found it in time, she could have died but that’s silly because we’re all dying. Every moment we live we’re closer to death. Aging is dying. Our cells are dying. Except for children. I don’t think their bodies are quite breaking just yet.
She still could die, though. It can take a turn for the worst. I get scared. I don’t want to treat her like it’s her last days, but all I have in my chest is this weighted fear and regret for all trespasses against her. She’s my mother. I am essentially made from her. Her nutrients, her oxygen, her blood, all kept me alive, and brought me from a parasitic bundle of cells into sentience.
I also wonder if it’s hereditary. She was adopted. We don’t know where her mother is, if she is alive, or if she died. What if I’m likely to develop it too? Will I live to get their cancer?
Depressing and morbid. FFS.
I still need to make my aida cloth dolls. I think I may make one for the show, but it’s not that impressive. Maybe I should just do a painting, or make a cake. Do they have a portrait category? I hope so. That’d be cool. Knowing me and this city, somehow I don’t stand a chance, but let me dream.
Eun Ju invited me to a show, which is pretty dandy. The Butterfly Effect and Dead Letter Circus, playing at The Ski Club. We don’t hang out enough. She also offered to model for a pin up. God I could take advantage of that, but she’s doing the heterosexual monogamy thing, so I’ll leave it to her. I’m wondering what medium, or if I should just take photos and use them as reference material. I can’t paint with her there. Maybe take a few photos and do a sketch up. I need to get a decent canvas.
Listening to Blue Oyster Cult. Oh, be still my heart. <3
I need to go wake up Eddy soon. I feel like baking the shit out of that mother fucking cake.
Fo’ rizzle…?
I’ll be quiet now.
<3
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Anti-climatic.
I sat here for ages procrastinating this post, and I’m not exactly sure why. It’s not like I have to post. But I should. I want to update this, regularly, like a normal person. Normal blogger. If there be such a thing.
I am going to bake a cake!
Trouble is, I can’t find a half decent recipe that isn’t unnecessarily convoluted or desperately needing something I am lacking. The fates conspire against me, and my cake. So fuck you, taste.com.au
I’ll fuck you up, bitch.
I think I’d kill someone for some cinnamon. I feel like I should make a marbled cake, but then being over decorative with the icing detracts from it, so plain cake it seems to be.
Ooh la la! Check it out, homies.
Easy Vanilla Butter Cake!
http://www.taste.com.au/recipes/12027/easy+vanilla+butter+cake
I forgive you, taste.com.au!
Maybe I should make a pizza sometime soon. I’ve really gotten into the baking. Maybe I should try make my sweet pizza, now that we have some berries and fruits. I’d like peaches, though. Brush the dough with milk and eggs, slices of apples, pears, peaches, berries, on an apricot jam sauce base, with a swirl of frosting. I think it has potential. In the least for small tarts or biscuits.
I need to get some puff pastry. I’m dying to try a nice flaky apricot pie. But not before cookies. Hopefully more successful than the last batch of gingerbread fuckers.
It’s hard to put Ben Folds Five in a genre. It’s jazzy, it has violins, it got those drums, piano, guitars, some sax and lots of sex. Also goes “na-na-na-na” and “doo doo doo”
Wikipedia describes them as a jazz influenced indie alternative rock band. Yeah, I can see that. Man, “Whatever And Ever Amen” is a pretty bitchin’ album.
Of course, most notable for Brick, which, whilst I love it, is an overrated song. It might have been their claim for late 90’s fame, and as far as songs about abortion go (allegedly) it’s on par with “Food Glorious Food” (there’s a joke there, smart guy)
Anyway, I think Russia should fund its own stem cell research initiative.
What? That wasn’t insensitive.
Well, talking to Eun Ju derailed this post. I’ll do something later. Maybe talk about the news. Maybe actually watch the news. Who knows?
<3
I am going to bake a cake!
Trouble is, I can’t find a half decent recipe that isn’t unnecessarily convoluted or desperately needing something I am lacking. The fates conspire against me, and my cake. So fuck you, taste.com.au
I’ll fuck you up, bitch.
I think I’d kill someone for some cinnamon. I feel like I should make a marbled cake, but then being over decorative with the icing detracts from it, so plain cake it seems to be.
Ooh la la! Check it out, homies.
Easy Vanilla Butter Cake!
http://www.taste.com.au/recipes/12027/easy+vanilla+butter+cake
I forgive you, taste.com.au!
Maybe I should make a pizza sometime soon. I’ve really gotten into the baking. Maybe I should try make my sweet pizza, now that we have some berries and fruits. I’d like peaches, though. Brush the dough with milk and eggs, slices of apples, pears, peaches, berries, on an apricot jam sauce base, with a swirl of frosting. I think it has potential. In the least for small tarts or biscuits.
I need to get some puff pastry. I’m dying to try a nice flaky apricot pie. But not before cookies. Hopefully more successful than the last batch of gingerbread fuckers.
It’s hard to put Ben Folds Five in a genre. It’s jazzy, it has violins, it got those drums, piano, guitars, some sax and lots of sex. Also goes “na-na-na-na” and “doo doo doo”
Wikipedia describes them as a jazz influenced indie alternative rock band. Yeah, I can see that. Man, “Whatever And Ever Amen” is a pretty bitchin’ album.
Of course, most notable for Brick, which, whilst I love it, is an overrated song. It might have been their claim for late 90’s fame, and as far as songs about abortion go (allegedly) it’s on par with “Food Glorious Food” (there’s a joke there, smart guy)
Anyway, I think Russia should fund its own stem cell research initiative.
What? That wasn’t insensitive.
Well, talking to Eun Ju derailed this post. I’ll do something later. Maybe talk about the news. Maybe actually watch the news. Who knows?
<3
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
