I really hate it when someone I care about is having a shit time of things, because I am the kind of person who wants to do something about it, and often there is nothing that can be done. I was on the phone to the Writer last night and he's been having a crap time at work lately... I never know what to say but I hope it is enough that he knows I am there, I am listening, and I'll do whatever I can to help.

I guess in this case there is something I can do, which is to stop spending ridiculously late nights with him so that he is incredibly tired the next day, and I think I am going to have to do that, no matter how much it sucks.

I kind of need to do that for me too, I'm feeling very disorganised. My apartment is a mess and when I see that around me it kind of affects my ability to think clearly and makes me feel more stressed than I should be. My life has been a little neglected lately... dishes undone, clothes on the floor, plants unwatered and things not put away... diet gone to shit, hardly ever exercise, feeling very round… hell, even dumb things like constantly forgetting to cut my toenails and not taking my make up off at night... a million tiny things are slipping all for the lack of discipline, self control and mindfulness. And time. Lack of time has a lot to do with it.

And he's feeling the stretch in his life too. Something has to give.

Anyway, I spent my lunch hour cleaning my apartment today to get rid of some of these little niggling things... which is all they are, fortunately for me. I feel kind of dumb complaining about them when the Writer has far bigger problems, mine are meaningless. I was trying to tell him last night that I have been where he is, sometimes I think (even though it doesn't really help) that it is some comfort to know that you’re not the only one.

So I was thinking about this when I got off the phone and I started re-reading old journal entries from back when I first started writing here, in the six months before I moved back to Adelaide (momentarily). Actually, something else had me thinking of that too – because it was around that time, when I had just turned 20 and I did my drive back to Brisbane, that I drove the Great Ocean Road and took in the Twelve Apostles, which are these awesome rock formations that are just off the coastline at the bottom of Victoria. The attraction has always been incorrectly named because there were only ever nine, but now there are eight – a couple of days ago, one of them crumbled, crashed into the ocean inside of a few seconds (Mysteria wrote about it). It took thousands of years for them to form, and just seconds to destroy. Incredible. I am glad I saw them when I did. I feel strangely moved knowing that one of them is gone forever... emotional, but not quite sure what or why...

Anyway, I was re-reading old entries, thinking of the time when I felt that I was crap more often than not... which I think extended from around 15 to around 22, approximately. I've only managed to feel relatively good about myself in the past two years, and even then it's still a perpetual roller-coaster... last Friday I felt dangerously close to where I was in my late teens, but it's possible to recover these days... back then, a day when I enjoyed myself and believed in myself was unheard of. I had years of feeling like I was nothing but crap. I had years of feeling aimless and having no clue as to where I might want to go... on the upside, it made for some good writing and I was a lot more creative back then :) I don't know what changed... I guess I found some direction, even though I'm still wandering at the moment. I guess I realised that I was worth the trouble. I realised, eventually, that I was a capable person, I could handle the twists and turns that life threw at me.

I don't know how I made it there, and I wish I did, so that I could tell the people who need to know... but it's a different path for everyone and it's meaningless if someone else gives you the answers.

Found a couple of gems while trawling through the archives, things I was grappling with at the time when I desperately needed to know what was right (even more so than I struggle with that now):

There are no universally true answers, you just learn to provide the right questions at the right time.

Hmmm, let us ponder that...

And, in correspondence from some weird guy in England who I met on the internet and used to email:

There is nothing special about being Right, if Right is the only logical conclusion. When there is no Right, you can have good ideas.

Ah, yes. We were talking about the difference between studying dance as opposed to studying mathematics at uni, of which there are obviously numerous differences, but we were kind of talking about the arts/logic divide. He craved the shades of grey, while I craved black and white. I think I'm over that now. I think.

This is a somewhat disjointed ramble this evening, but that's what I have in my head just now. That, and rocks. And white fluffy clouds. And a pit-bull. Ouch.

Before After

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