I'll preface this post with the note that I have two songs that have been running through my head tonight. One of them is by my band Sans Francisco, the other is by Tom Waits.
The one by my band is called Dear Antigone, lyrics and vocals by me, guitar and harmonies by my band mate Matt Sevrens. It goes like this
Someone once said, cellar door is the most beautiful phrase in our language
I'm not sure I believe that assertion, now that I've heard your song
Oh Antigone, You have so enthralled me
Oh Antigone, you've so enthralled me
You say the words you think, You say them unabashedly
My voice could never do you justice
in these sad little songs I sing
and I hope that I can be all the things that you seem to ask of me
A hope that you can bring me peace, if not a rest from all this
Please take me
You say, it's all in Vain
I don't know, what it is you want, out of me
I once tried to measure an hour, in wasted time
when with you, It's never so good as when you're there
it's never so bad as when I'm missing you
please set me free, from the shackles that so roughly bind me
to this world
could this lovely girl, in front of me
my dear Antigone, be
So that was the whole song, but the whole thing has been going through my head. I need to find my Antigone. (not necessarily a girl, though the song does suggest that.)
That's what I've been missing, someone who can set me free from the shackles that so roughly bind me.
I talked to my ex girlfriend tonight, while avoiding working on a paper that's due tomorrow. The thing that kept coming to mind was the fact that she never really understood my need to create. It's not a matter of choosing to create less so I have more time for classes and school and work. There isn't a choice for me. She never seemed to get that. She fell out of love with me and also couldn't deal with being so close to all of my mental problems. It's something I think I've gotten over, but she still makes me want to smoke.
At the time it was both a fulfilling of oral fixations and a desire to put physical scars where the emotional ones were. It worked to an extent.
I got over her with oral fixations. I smoked more cigarettes in those couple of months than I ever had before and ever will again. Talking to her, or using instant messaging to talk to her, still makes me want to smoke. I guess that's a sign I haven't really gotten over her. I don't love her anymore, and haven't for some time, but there's still some bitterness there for me. I felt pretty abandoned when all that went down.
That ties into the other song that was in my head, Little Drop of Poison. It's not important that I put down the lyrics in this post, you can look them up if you'd care to. it's tied into all this though.
So instead of being with someone who doesn't understand my need to create I need an Antigone. I guess that's my model for a partner. I'm looking for one of those really, because I'm no good at dating, or at playing the field. I'm good at being in a relationship and caring for someone.
I've been figuring out my head, and the only thing that's constant no mater what is going on with me is this need to create. I always am making things and when I'm not I don't feel real.
I feel real right now, sitting and writing this. I was almost in a mood to neglect posting here, but that's not something I ever want to do. I have to write every day. I don't feel fulfilled otherwise. Sure I was writing a paper today, but that's not the sort of writing I mean. When writing a paper, no matter how enjoyable, I can't just say the things I think. There's too much back story and too much messiness to put into a paper for school. I have to write these ridiculous rants and these long long posts about what it is to be me, because I haven't figured that out yet.
I'm getting better at it. The realisation that I really do need an Antigone, a partner in all of this is one step in figuring it out. Writing every day, whether or not I feel like it is another step. The things that drive me are pretty clear, creation and a desire to help someone and be helped by someone.
I had so many things I wanted to say when I was thinking about this blog post outside, smoking a cigar to signify the end of the paper I wrote tonight and the end of my 20th year. Today is my 21st birthday. I'm not a new person, but it's a notable landmark. My first adult birthday, while sane.
I have a final, and a psychiatrist appointment tomorrow, then I'm done for the week. I have work some of next week, which will be a nice change of pace. I'm ready to take on the world as a slightly different person. Like I've said before I still don't want to conform to the way the world is, but I do want to be able to deal with it on my own terms rather than the on the terms of my moods.
The whole mess of who I am and who I want to be, and my goals and my desires is all too messy to deal with at once. I have too take all this day by day, and so far that's going well. My friends are helpful in this, and my drugs are helpful in this. Breaking up my routines with writing and song has really given me something to look forward to.
As unusual as it is, I look forward to this blog post every day, not always consciously, but still the anticipation is there. I like being able to finally say all the things that build up over a day, especially a day like this with paper writing and two finals and a discussion with my ex girlfriend. These are things that just tend to make me want to get more and more shit out.
The moral of all this is that I'm ready. I'm here. I am creating, and I will be doing so for the rest of my life however long or short it is. I've shortened my life with tobacco and alcohol, with marijuana and wild nights, and I've lengthened it with atypical anti-psychotics that can keep me from just saying fuck it to this life that I haven't found meaning in yet.
The only thing I've found of worth is to create. So every day, unless my computer breaks again, I'll be here, typing away my sorrows and joys and in betweens because for me this is more than a narcicistic bit of self aggrandisement, it's an outlet, and on some really shitty, or unproductive days, my reason for keeping on going.
It's dramatic, but these aren't histrionics. I'm doing this because I need to, and read or not, this blog is keeping me sane in a more fundamental sense than the neurochemical. I'm not sure I believe in a soul, or in something about us that isn't just our brains, but if any such thing exists this is where I'm giving mine room to breath.
This is my animus. Unless I take to doing this in private, every day you'll get to see some of it, some of my animus spilled on the page, and explained, not just for you but for me.