(T)ea.(E)lbows.(T)rust.(R)ipping.(I)nitially.(S)hit

Last time I wrote an entry here,  my mind felt like it was crawling through red-hot 3D Tetris building blocks that were

Tetris life fail

covered in grease and emitting burning plastic chemical smog. How is it possible to let things be and not question them? Equally there is at some point, a place where you have to stop questioning everything and its finer intent, meaning, reason and point, or it’s complete head-jelly-bake time.

For years, I would obsessively play tetris in the dark, on my phone, as I was going to sleep.  Maybe that didn’t help me sleep after all.

It is about two and a half weeks later

I can happily report that returning to take ballet classes was a good idea. The stability of a normal, 9-5 Web Assistant job is probably the thing that has levelled me out a little. A little structure and having a manger who isn’t a neurotic-psychotic-dumb-as-fuck bint is pretty damn useful. I would like to think that having some direction (my latest plan is to learn HTML properly, XML and CSS and then get some super-well-paid WebCat job) will chill me out a bit. Bollocks will it.

This is the first time I have ever had a job I kind of enjoy – despite only a basic position – and within a few weeks when I have learnt everything there is to know about the system I use,  i’m sure i’ll be bored. As yet I still have to concentrate and learn though, which is to be honest, a godsend. I need distractions and busyness still. I am sad for many things, and I hate it.

Some things/events are and always will/would have been out of my control. A friend dying is not something I can control. I can control how I react, or don’t react, to this. That’s what I would like to believe and consistently get pulled up on unexpectedly. But I don’t know how I can deal with it. It is just a fucked up dream thats not going away.

Writing about this feels like a fictional work. This could easily be a story about someone else. Someone who I have made up. I need to deal with this, not just shed a few tears unexpectedly when I get caught off-guard, before I realise, stare off into the distance for a while and plaster a fake smile on. I want to write about this: normally writing helps. Not now, there is even a detachment from writing. Normally this is where I am most brutally honest with myself.

I like Eisbrecher today.

Now I just have to deal with my own decisions. I am very sad today, the things that are hardest are sometimes the only thing to do. It is easier to cut myself away from people, possessions, communication and responsibility; chill out my mind a bit. The less there is, the simpler it becomes, right? I need to see if everything settles into some kind of sense, rather than to bombard myself with emotions that as I have recently rediscovered still flood back like a lumbar puncture gone wrong.

I wish my life was an experiment, a bit like a ‘Learn chemistry lab kit’, you get when you’re a kid. A load of harmless chemicals that react and foam up and make a bit of a rank smell when placed in some cheap test tubes, some litmus paper and plastic tweezers. Token goggles too, goggles make things more fun.

I was going to go to Bang The Boar – what Bang The Boar is, I am not entirely sure. I don’t think my ear’s will cope with this tonight however.

Why.

For five years (2004-2009) I solely dedicated my life to dancing. I then turned my back completely on the (dance)world I loved; learning to hate and find pointless the thing I thought was going to be my life. I have been to one ballet class since finishing uni, nothing else.

After nearly two years; I finally miss stretching, moving, creating, disjointing and breaking down shapes the body can make. I want to create a twisted ballet, live piercing and bendy/contorted freakshow. I miss dancing and choreography, yet still hate the dance world and the people it attracts and feeds off. Soon I am returning to ballet classes. This is dubious and intimidating.

With the knowledge and experience of dance I have, it is a very pointless artform. Who wants to go and watch a dance show? Why would you? Is there really any point to dance apart from fitness? The majority of people it attracts have little knowledge of anything other than their hair, what Jordan said last night and latest Hollister practise clothing.

How can the Arts, in particular dance, be justified?  Why does anyone have the right to dedicate their life and their time to something that is essentially something that has no point other than fitness and entertainment (often dire entertainment, especially if you have no experience or knowledge of dance). Surely there are plenty more worthwhile things that can be done other than prance about a studio and showcase your work to mostly, other dancers. What is the point? Why should the arts be given a right to exist or a hierarchical place above anything else? Are there not more pressing issues that need to be addressed and focused on in the world? Poverty, basic human rights, worldwide provision of basic human necessities such as water, support for victims of torture or trauma, the preservation of our world could be examples.

Can money (despite funding cuts to the arts) be pumped into something that is not a necessity? If you strip down everything in life to the bare bones of there essence – the arts are not ‘needed’. The arts are  a luxury, an amusement. Don’t get me wrong, they have their place – expression, creativity, an emotional outlet, inspiration.

I need a reason greater than just ‘I enjoy it’ to dance again. I have come back to what I call University thinking. Constantly questioning everything, trying to ascertain a reason ‘why’, a solid answer or reason for something or anything, being able to back up my own work with relevant theory or experience. Breaking things down to the most basic element, the essence of ‘what’ something is, or why it should be done, is not a bad thing, although unsettling to work out where an idea or anything, comes from.

Currently I need a reason to start dancing again. I need to solidly be able to say why I should be doing this rather than something more worthwhile to society or societies views and followings. I can’t justify this right now and this bothers me. Any opinions or thoughts on why dance or any art should be followed, practised, watched, are important/not important to people personally or to our culture

Rabbits, not Tigers.

It is February. There are 12 hours and 10 minutes until it is the Chinese New Year. Today, is the last day of a year ‘ruled’ by Tiger, tomorrow, it will be a year of the Rabbit. This is When my 2011 will start. January is a retarded time of year. Particularly a retarded time of year, to have New Year. It is a Grey, Broken period of time; desperate times made worse by generic S.A.D behaviour, damp chills, no money. The statistically most depressing day of the year – Blue Monday – falls in mid-January.

2010 was the Chinese Year of the Tiger. Ferocious, vicious, brave, cunning, beautiful, free. If I read into Chinese years and months and believed the philosophy behind it, then perhaps my life would be explained a little…

I was born in September 1986,  also a Year of the Tiger, as was 1998. September is the month of the Tiger, making me a double Tiger sign. Perhaps the wild, unpredictability, sensitive, stubborn, angry, laziness, freedom and struggle to survive notions associated with Tigers reflects back at me…

Alternatively, I am struggling to find reason for life events; wanting answers for what cannot be answered, clinging onto something that ultimately is not a logical, proven or solid theory that I can have belief in. Looking at the surface of the Chinese Zodiac, yes it is interesting, yes I could try and draw conclusions, and yes I could make connections that are probably not even there. However I do not have that much belief in the Chinese Zodiac. This is merely a moment of interest.

However, there is now about 11.5hours until the year of the Rabbit begins. I hope with everything that is and isnt me, that things sort themselves out and this next year turns a corner into a less emotionally breaking period in life. There are many types of Rabbit. The cute fluffy ones you have as pets as a kid (ultimately pets such as these seem to be brought by parents to teach ‘responsibility’ and something about death. Kinda wish I had one to teach me these things when I was that young), Loonies Tunes very own Bugs Bunny, FillaBunny ^..^ Lewis Carrols’ White Rabbit, and many Adult ‘Rabbits’.

David Lynch has apparently directed a film called Rabbits, which sounds dire. Daily depressive life of people in rabbit suits ironing, sitting on couches, walking in and out of apartments. Sounds awesome. So.Fucking.Awesome. :/

This means the rest of the year should centre around Cartoons, Alice in Wonderland and dildo’s 🙂 Maybe 2011 won’t be so bad. And no pet rabbits. Fuck that!