Uttering my worries through tears, letting them out in the open, I finally realised how deep they ran inside of me. No way, unbelievable. I couldn't be that much insecure a person. I couldn't be the girl who was tearing up from low self-esteem in front of her boyfriend. Poking inside like an expert psychologist, past the hurt, I found beliefs that hadn't even formed thoughts yet. The core of it. They rang so true.
I felt so miserable, pitiful, weak... that I felt uneasy. I got sick of it.
The next day, I had an argument with J and got stubborn. Instead of driving to meet him, I took another turn and made a decision on the spot. A change. Trying not to think much of my feminility, my vanity -all the times spent brushing my long hair in front of the mirror after showering- I pushed the hairdresser's door open and went in. I needed my hair cut short.
I didn't really care if it turned out pixie-like, if I ended up looking like a boy, a tomboy, a lesbian or I-don't-know-what and he wouldn't approve of it. It would make me feel "me". My true self has short hair, I think. Long was no longer "me", it felt foreign, associated with years of weakness, and I couldn't stand a minute more wearing it. I wanted it gone, even if I had to do it myself!
The hairdresser gave me a weird look of 'why would you want to cut this beautiful hair' but nevertheless brought me the picture catalogue to chose from and did her best to guide me through it.
Difficult choice, I would normally panic. I hadn't given much thought about what would suit me, but I knew what I didn't want: I did NOT want straight bangs on the forehead like a monk, NOT a bob cut that would make me look like I was wearing a helmet, NOT parted in the middle like Jesus, but to the side insead. I liked locks of uneven lenghth, volume at the top, layers around my face.
When she gave the first cut, she paused and looked at me through the mirror. 'Perhaps you would like to keep it?' she said, offering me the locks. I refused, surprising myself. I had expected some sort of sentimental attachment, but found only relief when it was cut. No, I didn't want to keep it. And however it turned out, I was glad to have chosen it. I wasn't regretting it.
I kept a genuine smile thoughout the whole process and by the end, both her and I were ethusiastic with the result. Now, that was me. She said she was a little jealous, actually. Maybe because she witnessed a change. After the cut, I went to a clothes shop nearby and chose a nice, sleeveless top of intense blue, like the clear sky, which replaced my faded brick-red T-shirt. Farewell, people-pleaser. Welcome, new, hot, free girl.
It was like this that I went to meet him outside his house. I can now smile confidently. He has no idea what's coming for him. He's got to learn me again.
- Bought a sewing machine and learnt how to shorten curtains. (Not physical, but still proud!)
- Sunday, July 3rd : Hiking with friend, covered 7 klm.
- Monday, July 4th : Volunteered to take stray dogs for a walk. Spent 1.5 hours walking, while they pulled. Overcame my fear of being attacked by that one who jumps on me every time.
- Tuesday, July 5th: Aside from a looong walk for coffee...I feel restless. Edit: asked a nearby karate school about their prices and schedule...Plan to join them in September!
- Wednesday, July 6th: Tried modern dance lesson for 3 hours. I hurt everywhere....I pushed myself to the point that lifting a leg to wear my pyjama pants was nearly impossible.
Edit: A friend just decided to join me with the group. We're hiking this Sunday again!
Edit 2 : Glad we went! We were able to snap this picture :D
List of Concerts J. Has Been to
.__. ok, I get it. I don't even know half of these guys... but that's a lot of ticket money.
Found this on a blog and just had to repost it:
And now, if you will, a revised version of the Rifleman’s Creed, for us writer-types –
THE PENMONKEY’S CREED
This is my book. There are none like it, because this one is mine.
My book is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life.
My book, without me, is useless. Without my book, I am useless. I must write my tale true. I must shoot straighter than my fear who is trying to kill me. I must kill my fear before my fear kills my story.
My book and I know that what counts is not what others have done, what sales we make, what tweets I have twotted. We know that it is my heart that counts.
My book is a living document, because it is my life. I will learn it as it is my kin. I will learn its weaknesses, its strengths, its characters and plots and themes. I will put my heartsblood into the book and it will put its heartsblood into me as we become part of each other.
Before the Muse that I have shackled to the radiator in my office, I swear this creed. My book and I are the representatives of who I am. We are the masters of our fear. We are the ink-stained fools who press our fingerprints into the page for all to see. We are story and story-teller, one and the same. We are the gods of this place.
So be it, until victory is mine and I have finished my shit — fuck yeah and amen.
* * *
The song is called "The Mirror of my Thoughts" and it's about loving a person from a photograph. It uses poetry as lyrics and it's very sentimental. Try listening to it while reading along.
(Sorry I couldn't translate it better... I'm kinda in the mood for karaoke now! My next pick will be something more rock-y.)
Seduta sulla riva di questa mia coscienza
Sitting in the shore of my conscience
far conto dei miei giorni
keeping account of my days
Comprese le esperienze di questa vita mia
including the experiences of this life of mine
Somiglia ad un gabbiano con le ali aperte lungo l'orizzonte
it looks like a seagull with its wings spread along the horizon
Abbraccia il cielo che è sopra di me
it hugs the sky that is above me
che affonda dentro lo scenario di un tramonto
which dives into the scenery of a sunset.
( LyricsCollapse )
My interpretation: It seems to be from the perspective of a whore who reminds herself bitterly to stay level-headed and pragmatic. The singer could be drawing from her biography, as she used to work for a "show club" before being discovered by the discographic company.
But I think any woman can identify on the part about "fighting daily battles"... Heck, I did when I was cleaning the bedsheets! >__>; It gets me every time. She's saying 'I'm not a princess, I have to work hard', and she shouts it too. Go girl!
The rush in the heart
e' già una novità
is already a novelty
which behind a newspaper is
And the evil of the day
is a few kilometres to the south
of my return
of my goodmorning.
To the wacky music players
To the ludicrous like me
To those who never liked me
To those I've never met
for which I wonder why.
To the forgotten,
to the ended playboys,
and to me as well.
BUT the next day I found a stubbornly positive teacher's blog which saved me. I regained my will to teach and got motivated, even excited about it. I'm actually looking forward to classes now. I was able to remember why I enjoy teaching. So, THANK YOU, Christina C!
EDIT: It's getting better and better. I got them motivated to speak in English without slipping into their mother tongue, I made them rejoice in their success and feel they've achieved a step, and I've organised everything. The method is working~ OH YEAH! =)
昨日 弟は 旅行からもどってきたので、 会うために 今日私の家に 帰るつもりでした。