Old posts.

It seems the virtual bulldozer did not quite prevail... My old blog still exists, only it's 'somewhatorganized' with, z replacing s. I looked at a couple of old posts, and their surreality dawned on me... I wrote them before New Year, before this damned illness took a hold of me.
I wrote them with hope in mind, and I am at a loss when I try to find words to match them now...

Undiagnosed illness is like a cage in total darkness. You can feel the bars, but you can't see them. They restrain you, but it is almost impossible to see what is outside of the cage; not knowing what might be the cure for your condition or when that cure might be applied makes you focus on the problem, and you keep touching the bars to find some kind of weakness. Even though you know the bars do not change, and probing them will not do you much good. You have to look beyond the bars, and force yourself to let your eyes break through the darkness. But the longer you have to endure the same persistent symptoms, the deeper the darkness seems in your eyes. When you already have difficulty seeing purpose in life, each day of that repetitive, unchanging pressure takes you one step closer to despair.

I look at what I've written before because it is full of hope, and I hope to draw some strength from it.

My old blog stopped being updated in early January - when the illness came...

These are the old posts that struck me as most interesting.

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Discordia.

"23rd of December. Closing in on Christmas. Surreal...

I have memories, lots of memories of different versions of the 23rd. I flip through the pages of my inner photo album, viewing each sequence vividly, recalling past Decembers, past years, past thoughts... I remember the childish joy when I was younger, the pure glee that filled me when I thought of all the presents I'd be getting and all the time I'd be spending together with those closest to me. The 23rd got it right back then, it did it for me, it catalyzed the right mood.
It's not impossible to think that I felt like that back then... But as time passes, the memories start to seem surreal, like something from an alien dimension. Distant. Obscure.

But today has seemed more surreal than any other 23rd before it. I feel run over by the train of time. The atmosphere was almost acidic, straining everyone's patience. I can't remember when I've last seen my family so tense. Seems like everyone was sitting with each their mindset, no two wavelengths the same. Misunderstandings.
My problem is that I feel empty... I know I'm not going to have my current job much longer, and I've been so bloody stuck in the routine that I'm without direction when pulled out of it. I'm a mess, but hopefully I can straigthen it out... Tidy it up.

It's a discordian tune, playing in my head... A mess of incoherent dreams from last night haunting me, and my mind playing twisted games with twisted words in twisted ways. I just hope I can sleep more peacefully tonight, washing away the acid layer, blowing away the foul air. I want to meet my next dawn smiling."

Thursday, December 28, 2006

The Silence of the Aftermath.

"It's amazing how much can change in the course of a mere few days... Quiet streams of moments, at times passing at a slow pace, at times blasting by so quickly you can't see what they contain. A waterfall of cascading memories as you wake up from silent dreams, or fictions turned into reality as many turned into one collaborate to channel their thoughts to create the impossible. Dreamy sentiments of a lone mind in a surreal mess of visions, smiles surrounding it, and darkness behind it. Breaking the light, the same two elements emerge, and the darkness which was in hiding. Both clear, but one can't be seen, yet is felt by the sensitive touch of memory. It is simultaneously burning and chilling, static and yet ever-changing, flowing in a stream like water, and yet thick and inpenetratable as diamond. You grasp and your fingers pass through, or sometimes they stick to the frozen matter and can't get free. You laugh and you scream at the same time, wondering which of the utterances of emotion is the true one. In the end there is the silence, the overwhelming silence, more powerful that any sound, as towering and powerful as a tsunami, making the last remnants of all the voices echo all the more clearly throughout the mind.

I still need to get my bearings, I still need to find the course I wish to take, I still need to find my road to silence, my road to the aftermath of something that is yet to happen. When dawn breaks in the New Year, and I see peace in its wake..."

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

" It's past 2 a.m. and I am making and eating toast. Making and eating toast is what I am doing."