rumours

Two people
Walk the path
Alone
But together
They hold hands
Life
And
Death
Opinions differ
Some think they should be friends
Others think separation is appropriate
Few understand
That without each other
They cease to exist
In truth
Death is made sacred
By the beauty of life
Life is made precious
By the coming of death
The two are inseparable
And they walk the earth
Forever more
Worlds clash
People collide
Souls cycle the system
And the two friends
Search forever
Because when they meet
A balance of sorts
Is struck
And the energy of nature
Yearns for balance

A man came into safeway the other day and he began speaking about his work as an academic, and how he was writing an article for publication currently, and I expressed my interest, and somehow the conversation changed and he went on to speak about how his life has been difficult, and I complimented his intelligence, and he questioned what intelligence was, and I answered, intelligence often sources itself from suffering and pain.

I have suffered pain. Many people have suffered pain, my father once spoke about how many great poets, musicians, and artists have suffered, Van Gogh, Kurt Cobain, Silvia Plath, and more.

I commonly over dramatize my situation, so do not fret but I wish to write about these things, to open myself to some degree to the world.

Many people are aware of my wish to take part in the most beautiful act of life, that of creation, birth, a baby. A good friend of mine once said that I was pregnant with the one I loved, not in a physical sense, but in a metaphorical sense, because I felt the constant pull to attend to his needs, and I felt obliged to attend to these needs. I wish to extend this metaphor. I remember that another good friend of mine spoke about how the true self often appears as a child in your subconscious, and I saw my ‘true’ self as a young girl standing alone in a room full of light and shadow with a fluttering curtain in the window. However I am sure that previously I have written about at times my periodical menstrual cycle at times feels as if I am pregnant and yet I am fooled, because I have not given birth as of yet. I wrote a little ‘note to self’ once, about how sometimes I feel so full of… for want of a better word… feminine magic, it isn’t really, I mean it feels like underneath your skin lies some magic, well not magic, it just makes you feel so alive, and full, full of potential, full of life, full of creative energies, full of creation in a sense.
um… just to lighten the mood, mebe I’m just a little drunk wearing rose coloured glasses as my other good friend commented (:
no on the contrary I am not drunk with alcohol, only with emotions and currents.

Anyhow, I have also spoken about how I feel as if I am killing my soul to be with mateo, it is as if I kill my true form to fit into the form he has created, and yet to some extent I have always done this, it is as if I feel too full, and need to drain myself somehow… and I search for a way, but the fullness always comes back. I spoke to another great friend of mine and told her about how I do not let go of problems, I do on the surface, and in my conscious I think that I have let go, but the unsolved current of the problem still swirls around in my true self, and sometimes it bubbles up and craves my terror for satisfaction.
The point of all these words is that I have come to the conclusion that my true form is indeed a metaphysical baby, within myself. I also realize that the metaphor of snakes suits me, and I have had multiple dreams about snakes throughout my lifetime. My good friend who spoke about the rose coloured glasses, observed that the snake is sometimes a symbol of feminine fertility, and at times when I play music or sing, and when the current of conflict bubbles up at my centre seeking to strike, and when I feel constricted by obligations, indeed I feel vaguely like a snake, being hypnotized by the music to some degree.
I think it is common for people to feel that the weather echoes one’s own emotions, rain for tears, thunder and lightning for anger, it is one of the oldest film techniques to show emotional shifts, and I do the same thing. Recently however I saw a film that told about a girl with a mark on her face, and how she was an Asian dragon in human form and how she longed to spread her wings a fly into the night. In some parts of Asia dragons are believed to control the rain, and to create rivers, and pearls are the physical form of a dragon teardrop. Mateo used to use a metaphor for my virginity I believe, or perhaps my innocence, it was as if I held a ‘pearl in perfect condition’. Grace-u2
Anyhow I see myself simply as a very confused lonely upset person who wants to sort out her thoughts into a straight up and down woven plait, easy to follow, easy to unwind and put back together if need be.
I discussed how phobias are often connected to childhood memories, and my phobia of black water I believe stems from an incident where I fell off a surfboard and almost drowned and the water felt black. This is why originally I was scared of the ocean, up until I was pushed to compete in an ocean swim in grade 5 at my primary school, and to face my fear, after that I learnt that the best way to fight your fears is to face them head on.
Anyhow I have been delving into my dreams, into the origins of my fears, and into my memories to search for the reasons why I am the way I am. And I find interesting answers.
I see myself as very very human indeed, despite every metaphorical figure I have been compared to, and every human comparison that has been likened to my ‘character’, but I stay true to myself by doing things such as writing and playing music.
This leads me to expressing due irritation at the accusations that have been piled upon me.
I will seek to explain these to all so as to satisfy human greed for information.
I once heard a story where the symbol for human greed was a wooden bowl that appeared normal, but swallowed every cent and dollar to remain constantly empty despite the riches poured into it.
Ok so the accusation of suicidal tendencies:
I was in an English class a year above my age, and I only had one friend in the class, I didn’t talk much, and I was quite shy. A very kind girl came into class one day and told the class about a boy who was very quiet and shy and didn’t speak much to anybody who sat on her bus and had been at her primary school, and how he had committed suicide recently, and how sad it was. She seemed to look at me in a spooky way, and suspicions formed about my mental health, this concern spread to throughout the school community, through to other school communities, and further from there.
At the same time I had a falling out with a local boy, and I was quite revengeful, I believed that karma would fly into his face in due time, when these rumours began to spread I believed this was the karma, so I did nothing to abate them, and besides suspicions of such a calibre are quite quite difficult to subdue, believe you me! I did try.
Next, paedophilia, so there are two incidences which fuel this suspicion, when I was in Sweden my cousins took me to a ski cottage, and we stayed there a week or so to go skiing, it was plenty of fun. One night however when everybody was watching tv and everything, it felt as if something flew into me, something… foreign, and for some reason I had the urge to do something dark, I pictured myself testing whether or not my cousin would get scared if I nudged her in a wrong way on her body somewhere. I acted and it was spooky because I felt as if I watched myself do this from outside of my body, I went over and sat down next to her, and leaned forward to get some chips from the table, and at the same time I nudged her breast accidentally, at this stage it would not have been too strange, however I stayed there a second too long, and she freaked out. Naturally. A split second later I kind of flew back into myself and just struck my brain with regret and felt so so so awful it is unbelievable. She ran to her mother for comfort, and I was terrified she would tell, and I ran out of the house and sobbed in the snow, I felt my sister and mother would understand, and I missed home so unbelievably strongly. I have since then apologised for my insane behaviour, and I regret that action ever since.
Second, my baby cousin Saskia, not so much a baby anymore, attending school and everything, well she sees me as a sort of big sister, and I have known her since birth, and she along with all the cousins sort of follow me everywhere, iNCLUDING THE TOILET!! During Christmas times, it gets quite intrusive on your privacy. Anyhow this year we went up to stay with Saskia and my favourite aunty and uncle Tom and Jane. We went bushwalking up this huge rock mountain, and on the way down everybody else had gone to the car, Saskia turned to me and said ‘I need to do a wee-wee’ I said ok. I’ll stand over here and wait, feeling a bit strange about it all, and she looked at me and said ‘no I need you to be over here to help me’. I felt quite bizarre, I mean I have changed nappies before, and gross stuff, but I haven’t helped anybody do a wee, it was quite out of my league sort of thing… Umm so she asks where she should wee, and I show her a good spot, and then she looks at me questioning, and I say ok (because this is how I was taught) socks and shoes off, squat down, make sure u wee down hill so it doesn’t get all over your feet. She squats down and I look away, and she finished up. She dresses, I tie her shoes up, and we go back to the car. The adults are looking at me suspiciously because it took longer than usual, and I explain, and they in turn explain that normally she does it man-style to save time, standing. And I say “OH” thinking OOPS. I apologise and we go back to the house. I get the feeling Saskia has heard about the suspicions from my cousin and is testing my innocence. She is quite intelligent. The car drive home is tense, my mother keeps asking if Saskia is ok. Saskia hesitates and says yes after a little while. Enough time to form a suspicion in my mother. AT lunch time Saskia develops the spread suspicion when she asks me ‘britta what is assault?’ I explain about stealing stuff, and she says no different, and she says ‘paedophile’ but with kid pronunciation so it is virtually inaudible, and yet everybody present understands. The suspicion grows, tension builds, and the two sisters fight over who sits next to britta as usual. I however feel very very intruded upon. These suspicions offend me and make me feel inherently bullied, and scared and alone. Very very alone and so sad. I go to my room to cry, Saskia comes in with a can of red paint and asks if she can paint with it, I look at it and it looks harmless so I say yep fine, get her some paper, and let her paint it, crimson red. The colour blood. The adults come in and see the red rash around my eyes [I react to salt water] strange since it originates from my body, and the red paint that has leaked onto the marble floor of the rented house, and they make a huge fuss, I escape to the veranda, unwilling to speak, since I feel every person present is against me. I feel hugely bullied and pressured. Saskia is wracked with guilt, I can feel it emanating from her like a huge buzzing cloud, she is crying, I am crying, she is pushing the veranda glass door, to come outside, I start talking to mum about it all I think, or maybe somebody else. Anyhow I express my thoughts about how I feel the build of suspicion against me. Mum expressed complete innocence, ignores me entirely. And I get worse. She doesn’t address the problem and it seriously messes with my core disgust of lies, especially intentional ones. Eventually she calms me down by reassuring me that nobody thinks I’m a paedophile, and she tells everybody else, and Jane says to me “Britta if I suspected ANYTHING, I would not let you ANYWHERE NEAR my kids”. She hugs me and apologises. I won’t talk to Saskia. I feel betrayed. Tom asks Saskia when she comes out to the car as we are leaving for the airport if she has something to say to me, and Saskia pauses and says she is sorry after much prompting. I am still extremely messed up about it all, and I don’t really accept it. We leave. A couple months later we attend Jane’s sculpture exhibition, so much beauty, I enjoy it hugely. Saskia attends the exhibition. She is shy at first clutching her fathers pants with her tiny hands, and mie is held by uncle Tom. I smile at Saskia, and crouch down holding my arms out forgivingly and she runs towards me and hits me with a force, hugging me so tight, I hug her back. I can feel that she regrets her actions. I spend the night talking to people and showing Saskia around the sculptures a bit, talking about what they look like and everything. She knows all of them so well, having seen them before. After all she is her mother’s daughter.
In recent months my feathers have been increasingly ruffled by these continuing suspicions, I get so upset. These ruffles have fuelled more suspicion, and the cycle goes on.
Now I am sure that whatever it is I do, more crap will come up against me.
I feel somewhat betrayed by the police, since I have done my best to help people see them as real people, not just pigs in uniform. Done my best to make their job easier.
Yes I concede that I have a very fiery temper, but I have never acted out on them violently on other people, except yelling. Is it illegal to have a temper? If so I believe half the world is guilty.

As for beastiality, I adore my dog. She has brought me safely through the toughest times of my life, and these words make me cry. I am all emotional currently. She is by far my best friend ever. TO lose her would deeply affect me. I hug her like a teddy bear. When I get lonely, I sleep next to her cushion and hold her paw for comfort. When I am upset I go to Laika for doggy cuddles, you know the kind that horses do, neck to neck, I bare my throat to her, she bares her throat to me, it is a sign of trusting each other with our lives. Her coat has borne all of my tears throughout the years, her ears have received all of my problems, and her company has healed me somewhat.
I love my dog. A lot.
But beastiality is OUT OF THE QUESTION. It is off the scale of proper behaviour. I mean, murder, paedophilia, rape, awful crimes of this age, they are awful, but beastiality, I feel the urge to spew at the thought, it is beyond anything and everything. Unthinkable, and to be accused of such things, is just proof of the negativity which lies in human tongues and human minds. The twisted confused world of today.
I’m sure the paparazzi have a field day with all sorts of rumours, and I’m sure many real celebrities find them hugely disgusting and unfair. Many ignore it all.
But this calibre of suspicious rumour spreading is another thing altogether.

There’s a song by Christina Aguilera called ‘can’t hold us down’ and its lyrics go like this

“if you’re offended by the message I am sending
not even man enough to handle what I sing
it’s a common double standard of society
the guy gets all the glory, the more he can score
and yet the girl can do the same and  you call her a whore

I don’t understand why it’s ok
the guy gets away with it
the girl gets blamed

chorus



[and something about how little it is of somebody to spread foul rumours]
that for sure is not a man to me



Anyhow, I hope that all this dirt can be cleansed with the coming of the new year, and I hope people can learn to experience with their own eyes instead of via word of mouth when it comes to foul rumours. The victim gets hurt immensely.
Do you ever remember being called the neighbourhood slut in high school?
Joining conversations that halt to sudden silence when you come along?
Rumour spreading is nasty, very nasty.
So I ask you to do your best to stop it, however it is part of the dirt of humanity, so that will take quite a long time to change.

Anyhow, I have done my best to bear it without action, and now this comes to fruit.

I wish you all the best in every way

(: Britta