c r e s c e n t s o u l

l'autre moitié de moi

Existentialist Meandering

There’s something to be said about the future. It is pretty much impossible to know what it’ll have in store for anyone, yet we constantly make plans for it, mapping out footholds for us to hold on to. “I’ll meet so-and-so then, I’m going there on that day, I need to get ready for this thing coming up at that time”But our knowledge of the future can only be imagined and our plans and footholds are literally just figments of our imagination, until they happen. If they happen. We buy tickets for things and literally invest in the future, and we’re guided by our future to some extent, informed of how to live right now in the present by what we’ve got coming up.

Plans are necessary and fundamental to human life, even if we can’t know for certain if they’ll happen the way we imagine them to happen. I don’t think we would even be human if we couldn’t plan, we’d be creatures of survival only, permanently in a state of present being. Perhaps awareness of time – past, present, future – is really the basis of what separates our way of life from a hippopotamus, say. We collect our history, we build on where we have come; we (try to) live in the present; we plan for and apprehend the future. In fact I think our “present” is only understood when we place ourselves in a framework of past and future times. Being isolated to the actual now, to this very very moment, would be an impossible way to live for any prolonged length of time. I’m not saying let’s all abandon the now and hold onto our past and live for the future, that would be an equally destructive way of living I think, but just that, our present self is utterly a part of our past self and also our imagined future self.

Where do you see yourself in your mind’s eye, one or two or ten years down the road? Read the rest of this entry »

Hiatus & Recent Thoughts

I seem to have taken a break from writing here over the past six months or so, but I feel ready to get back to it now, mainly because there’s quite a lot of stuff I want to write about, and also as I can never find the time to hand write a diary, this is a quicker and more easily cathartic option for getting things off my chest. And I have been feeling the need to write things down very strongly as of late, so here I am.

The exact word I’m searching for to describe how I’m doing right now has run away, but to be haphazard and slightly clumsy, I’m probably sad and scared. Many of my best friends from home have gone to University to study creative subjects – be it Illustration, Photography, Fine Art, Graphics, Music, etc – and to see them developing their styles and just creating is so inspiring to me, yet it makes me wish I’d chosen to study a creative subject at University as well.

Read the rest of this entry »

New home ~

So, the move went well! Pretty stressful and all that, but in all honesty, it went well. It took us about 12 hours on move in day to get everything packed and transported up here, and we had so many delays and set-backs, but we got here.

I’ve started a sort of tongue-in-cheek blog about me being a housewife bitch because there are so many moments and things about living with my boyfriend that I don’t want to forget, that make me laugh, and that make me sigh inside at our domestic differences. So if you like moaning and sarcastic humor and long descriptions of male ineptitude then please check it out, ha ha.

In other news, I’m missing my parents a lot, uni is piling on a horrific amount of work as the year draws to an end, I’m still eating disordered, money (or lack of) is a stress and a worry, I need a new job, I’m long overdue a period, I’m still smoking and I need a complete and utter style overhaul.

So there isn’t much to say right now.

Ciao for now.

 

 

Moving and memories ~

24th April 2012. This is the last night I’ll be spending in my little studio flat. After sixteen months of living here, the time has come to upgrade… From using shared bathrooms and having one room complete with kitchen, bedroom and living room I shall be moving to a gorgeous little (but a lot bigger) flat with an actual bedroom, an actual open plan kitchen/living area, and MY OWN BATHROOM. Oh to have space! To have my own bath on which to put bottles of shampoo! To go to bed at night in a room that doesn’t stink of cooking smells!

I’m very excited. I’m also sad to leave this place; it has served me so well and it’s been lovely having my own balcony and beautiful, towering high ceilings… And it’s been good to be so close to the sea; to walk out of the door every day and see it just at the end of my road, glistening in the sun, scrunching and chopping up into grey meringues in the wind, flat and beaten like iron on still winter days. It’s nice to see it change every day, I swear I’ve never seen it the same. And the sunsets in the summer are so beautiful, all pink and fluffy and sugared.

But I must remember that it will still be there (heaven forbid some terrible calamity makes the sea disappear…) and that I am actually only moving about 10 minutes away. And to leave the neighborhood will be nice. I’ve been living in a superficially “grand” area, a big wide square on the seafront, and it’s all white facades and Regency balconies and big front doors – but in reality it’s the fucking town HQ for everyone with a drug addiction and just enough money to buy a daily bag full of Special Brew, and these people are harmless, but they’re always out there walking around moaning and groaning and drinking and then passing out in the bushes by about 4pm.

So… yeah. I’m so looking forward to living on a quiet street. It has trees and cats and a wide pavement. It’s exciting to be getting a new space as well, space to really move into. I’ve thrown out so much stuff because of the move, which feels amazing. Out with the old etc.

But yeah. I am fond of this flat and always will be; it was my first home away from my parents after all, and I expect these things will stick to a person. I’ve lived by myself for 6 months at first, which was tough. Then my boyfriend moved in, which was lovely. I’ve had some fucking brilliant parties and gatherings with friends, and the times when my boyfriend came to visit me in those first 6 months were especially sweet.

For my own reference I’m just gonna list some of the best and most vivid memories I’ve had here now ~ Read the rest of this entry »

So this is truth ~

Ok. So, in regards to my last post – I think I need to just get this off my chest. It’s hard not talking to anyone about it. I just don’t know how I feel, knowing what this person told me.

I’m not going to reveal anyone’s identities. So this is kind of diluted, but I just don’t know if they’d want me writing about this online.

Someone very close to me told me last week that, as a young girl – from the age of nine to twelve years old – they were sexually abused by their paternal grandfather. They didn’t tell anyone for many, many years. It happened in a caravan at the end of her family’s garden, where her grandparents were living.

That’s it.

And I know this isn’t my history, and I don’t feel like I’m carrying it with me now, burdened by it – but it just makes me incredibly sad. It’s dropped into my head and it reshuffles the things that were in there before. I try to imagine me, as a child, and my grandfather – or me as a mother, and my daughter and my father – it just makes me sick and panicked and the image blackens out because I cannot picture her like this.

This person didn’t tell me any details, but I can’t help wondering, my thoughts cruelly winding themselves into crumpling and disgusting possibilities. It’s so sad. What makes me angry is that the memory of this experience will never go away for them, and that right now it’s probably stronger than it has been for years due to feeling vulnerable and small again, and not in control, because of their present health issues.

They have all the strength and love I can possibly squeeze into them. I want them to think out, but I know it’s hard when you have a lot of time for yourself and your thoughts get all tied up in knots. You get tense and anxious and frustrated. I just wish they’d focus more on spiritual, emotional and mental health rather than bodily health. I’d love for them to think out for a bit and look and listen and just… absorb some peace.