Tag Archives: Psychology

Pillar of Salt Anyone?

07 Sunday Sep 2014

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It probably hasn’t been long enough for my poor addled brain to process seeing ‘The City They Burned‘ yet, but I’m going to have a crack at a response.

The website lists it as a retelling of the story of Lot and the fall of Sodom from Genesis 19 (in the Old Testament, I looked it up). It’s got everything you’d expect from the vengeful God era; death, genocide, angels of destruction, rape, sodomy (a word which originates from Sodom), incest – all the things!

Fleur Kilpatrick’s adaptation moves the morality of the original story from a parable of good and evil to a story about all the terrible decisions people make; her world of Sodom is all about grey morality, there is no black or white in this.

The City They Burned - photo from Attic Erratic/Facebook

The City They Burned – photo from Attic Erratic

This production is showing as part of the Melbourne Fringe Festival, and states it’s a fully immersive theatre experience, so I don’t know what I expected, but I thought it would be fun. I don’t want to give too much away in terms of the staging of this production, because I think not knowing what’s really going on is part of what makes it powerful. I will tell you this, the first half pushed the boundary of audience participation, and the second half, while not participatory, was not any safer.

So, what were my thoughts? Of the first half: it was intense, it was constant. The performers never once broke from their horrible, uncomfortable characterisation. In the first half, with the audience so close and visible, I think it would have been easy for the actors to feel as uncomfortable as we did. It would have been so easy for them to giggle awkwardly, look to the others for confirmation, shuffle, fidget, or generally crack. I would have struggled because knowing I was making people nervous would have made me want to stop, to break character. But they never did. The silence, the unspoken tension, the derisive laughter, the scorn, the violence, it was all supremely controlled. I watched as other members of the audience avoided eye contact and squirmed away from the actors.

And of the second half; it was intense, it was constant. While we had the cover of darkness and the anonymity of being unseen, the level of tension did not drop. I commented to a fellow next to me, ‘Do you think the second half was better? I mean we were safely in our seats, but it didn’t seem to help’, he laughed, but his eyes had a sort of traumatised glaze I’m sure was reflected in my own.

A quote that springs to mind is that art should disturb the comfortable and comfort the disturbed (I can’t find the original attribution online, but it might be Finley Dunne). This is an extremely disturbing experience, it is way, way outside my comfort zone, and yet I feel somehow accomplished for having done it. It’s good to push your own boundaries every once in a while. It felt like I was being a good student of the arts.

If you’re looking for a fringe show which is as dangerous and thrilling as it is well executed, look no further than ‘The City They Burned’. It’s less than $30 and you’ll never be the same again. I’m giving it 4.5 out of 5.

Watching Movies: Beautiful Vampires

29 Sunday Jun 2014

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I don’t think I got Jim Jarmusch until today. I saw ‘Only Lovers Left Alive’ at the magnificent Astor Theatre earlier today and it was glorious. The central characters of the film, Adam (Tom Hiddleston) and Eve (Tilda Swinton) are vampires. They are impossibly old, they are reclusive – in the world but not of it, they are artistic, and they are so, so in love. If I had only two words for this film, they would be languid, and restrained.

Only Lovers Left Alive screenshot

Still: Only Lovers Left Alive

The film was beautifully realised in a number of ways, I will try to go each of them. Firstly, cinematographically, this film had some lovely themes. Adam, who lives in Detroit, is black – his clothes are black, his hair is black, his house is very dark, and all of the scenes in Detroit are dark. Eve on the other hand, who lives in Tangier, is white – her clothes are pale, her hair is pale, her house is pale, even the scenes in Tangier, which are at night, are much paler in comparison.

The characterisation is lovely too, Adam is a reclusive, musician who is pretty grumpy, fascinated by the world of science and weary of the zombies (humans). Eve is light, but thoughtful, she reads every language, she is fascinated by the world of humans and has a zest for existence. They are the quintessential yin and yang, and they were small charms of the other’s colours as a token of their difference and their love.

Thirdly, the acting by Swinton and Hiddleston is delightful, much of which is without dialogue. The whole film is quite minimalist in some ways, but the affection between the two leads is very real. I saw an interview with the two of them, along with Jarmusch and John Hurt (who plays Christopher Marlowe) and it was clear that the affection between them was not only on screen. Their ability to portray a love which is literally ageless but still just as potent was truly remarkable – their complete comfort with each others’ presence while still having a burning desire for the other were equally believable. Together, they achieve a level of sexiness that is rarely seen, and is heightened by their never consummating it on screen.

Music also plays a huge part in the effect of this film. I commented to a friend as soon as the credits were finished that I must get hold of the soundtrack immediately. Most of the soundtrack is by Sqürl, Jim Jarmusch’s band. It manages to be moody and atmospheric while also being able to drive the action – lots of wailing guitars and slow beats, giving the film a sort of timeless urgency.

Only Lovers Left Alive theatrical poster

Only Lovers Left Alive theatrical poster

I have to give big ups to Jarmusch for this film. Having seen ‘Dead Man’ and finding it beautiful but confusing, I was ready for this movie to be somewhat inaccessible, but I was pleasantly surprised as I let the film wash over me. The Marlowe as Shakespeare conspiracy theory is interesting, but probably not something I want to go in to here, I suspect it may have created some tension between Jarmusch and Hiddleston, who has very successfully performed Shakespeare (see also this post). I could be wrong, but the interview I mentioned before includes some interesting body language between them when the interviewer asks about the issue. It is a credit to everyone involved that with so much to work with and such talented people on hand the film is so restrained, so understated, and that this is one of the things which makes it so great.

Overall, it gave me some excellent food for thought. A poignant and thoughtful look at love, life, humanity, pleasure, despair and death. I give it 4.5 out of 5 stars.

Watching Movies: Happy Families

21 Tuesday Jan 2014

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Today’s movie review will be of ‘August: Osage County’, an intense drama about the difficulties of living in the Weston family. Written by Tracy Letts, based on his Pulizter and Tony Award winning play of the same name, this story follows the relationships in the highly dysfunctional family as they try to deal with the death of its patriarch, Beverly.

August: Osage County poster

August: Osage County poster

From the outset this film is confronting. The women in this family, Violet (Meryl Streep), Mattie Fae (Margo Martindale), Barbara (Julia Roberts), Karen (Juliette Lewis), Ivy (Julianne Nicholson) and Jean (Abigail Breslin) are complicated, flawed, and extremely believable. While the film is an excellent ensemble piece, the mother-daughter relationship between Violet and Barbara is the centrepiece. Violet is a mean-spirited, bitter woman who has a tendency to abuse prescription medication, and Barbara, her eldest daughter struggles with a sense of obligation to care for her mother, and a need to escape her destructive influence. Trying to explain the intricacies of the relationships without giving away some of the story is going to be difficult, so I’m not going to try. Suffice to say that the relationships between the family members are complex and filled with betrayals and misery.

The performances by each member of the cast are spectacular. With so many central characters, each with rich back stories filled with hardship, it’s hard to pick one or two who stood out. What makes this more difficult is that each actor’s performance is as reliant on the way they react to the actions of the others as with their own actions, something which is a basic tenet of acting, but which is rarely seen so clearly on the screen.

The men in the film, Beverly (Sam Shepard), Charlie (Chris Cooper), Bill (Ewan McGregor), Steve (Dermot Mulroney) and Little Charles (Benedict Cumberbatch), are shown largely as counterpoints to the Weston women, and each gives a beautiful, nuanced performance. The stand out relationship among the men is between Charlie and his son Little Charles; there is a tenderness there that doesn’t exist in any of the other relationships, and this contrast makes it all the more striking.

Throughout the film the script writing struck me as being incredibly tight. Each scene was carefully crafted to add tension to the film, and while the events in this family are extreme, there was no point at which I found myself disbelieving them. I did find it interesting that in a film that is built upon difficult familial relations, the romance between Ivy and Little Charles (who are first cousins), which remains a secret for the majority of the film, is never overtly shown. The furthest they get is hand holding and making moon eyes when they think no one is looking. I find it intriguing that the producers chose not to show a kiss, it’s likely they were worried it would be too much for the audience, but for me it seemed a bit contrived (or maybe I’m just a perv for kissin’ cousins). Not having seen a stage production, I would be interested to know whether or not they kiss there.

All the family around the dinner table

All the family around the dinner table

Visually, the tone of the film is heavily in the brown spectrum. The house is dark and brown, the rolling Oklahoma fields are yellow and dry; even the costumes are browns, beiges, muted blues, and blacks. Nothing escapes the oppressive pallet except Steve’s bright red sports car. The use of colour is particularly strong in evoking the feel of the house in which most of the film takes place, and in conveying the stifling heat of an Oklahoma summer. At one stage we see a neon sign telling us it’s 108˚ (Fahrenheit, in Celsius that’s 42˚, a temperature which for us Melbournians is still a fresh trauma).

If I were to criticise the film it would be to say that I was disappointed with Benedict Cumberbatch’s American accent. Some of you may understand how difficult that is for me to say given how much of a ridiculous uber-fan of his work I am, but I say it with love, I say it because I know he can do better (case in point his Australian accent as Julian Assange). If I were to justify this less than his best performance I would suggest that given the size of his role, fairly small, and the amount of screen time he has to spend crying, disproportionately large, the fact that his accent is passable, but not brilliant is probably fair enough.

My overall impression of this multiply nominated film (Best Actress and Best Supporting Actress, both well deserved) is that it manages to balance serious, hard truths about life in this family with some black comic moments and the result is a thought provoking yet enjoyable cinematic experience. I was left wondering how they all got on after the end; I wanted to know what happened next, which is always a good sign that you’ve identified with the characters. I think a lot of the patrons at the Cinema Nova where I saw this walked out feeling much better about the interesting family scandals in their own lives. A thought provoking, authentic exploration of family dysfunction; I give this film 4 out of 5 stars.

Watching Movies: Prisoners

12 Sunday Jan 2014

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Last night I saw Denis Villeneuve’s ‘Prisoners’ at the Moonlight Cinema in the Melbourne Royal Botanical Gardens. The weather was pleasant, if a little bit cool, I went with a sizable troupe of people, we all met early in the evening to share a picnic dinner and settle into a good spot.

Prisoners poster

Prisoners poster

The story follows Keller Dover (Hugh Jackman) and Detective Loki (Jake Gyllenhaal) as they try to recover Dover’s daughter, Anna who was abducted, along with her friend Joy, from a seemingly quiet woods town on Thanksgiving. The basic premise of the film appears to be exploring how far is too far, and does the end justify the means. Dover is understandably torn up about what might be happening to his daughter and is desperate to get her back as quickly as possible, starts to take matters into his own hands.

The first thing I should probably tell you all is that this is an intense film. It’s morality is purposefully unclear and as such you can’t trust your feelings for any of the characters. It could be described as a character driven film, rather than a plot driven one. The plot appears to be fairly simple and much of the tension of the story is carried by the way that the characters behave. There are a few plot twists and a few unexpected reveals along the way; I guessed a few of them but not all, which is always a pleasant surprise.

Detective Lokio and Keller Dover have words

Detective Lokio and Keller Dover have words

Given it’s focus on character on of the most striking and impressive features of the film were the performances of the two lead actors. Both Hugh Jackman and Jake Gyllenhaal were brutal and beautiful in the way they showed their characters’ painful journeys. These two men, Dover and Loki, are flawed, suspicious, angry, and really only satisfied when they are in control of everything around them. Neither of them can really manage their emotions on a deep level and therefore tend towards sudden violent outbursts. Although these characters are intensely similar in many ways, and are both on the same side, their relationship is adversarial. Dover believes that Loki is incompetent and is not doing enough to get his daughter back, while Loki believes that Dover’s judgement is impaired by his fear.

The supporting cast should also get a mention for their admirable performances. In particular Terrence Howard, who plays Fanklin Birch, the father of the other missing girl, Paul Dano, who plays Alex Jones, one of the suspects, and Melissa Leo, who play Holly Jones, Alex’s aunt. It’s hard to describe why these actors deserve a mention without spoiling some of the plot twists, but suffice to say they contribute meaningfully to the ambiguity over what’s right.

‘Prisoners’ was written by Aaron Guzikowski and unlike my first guess was not adapted from another medium (e.g. a novel). It’s his second feature film, according to IMdB. He has said in interviews that revenge is like a river; that the very act of taking vengence for a wrong against you changes who you are on a fundamental way. I think this is the raison d’etre of the film, to explore what happens when you justify doing something that you would otherwise condemn. One particular line that sticks out from the film, from Dover, is ‘he’s not a person anymore’, which rung a lot of alarm bells in my head. This is the argument that has condoned generations worth of mistreatment of other human beings; from the Holocaust to the Indigenous Australians to the slave trade. The psychology of stripping away someone’s humanity like that is extremely powerful.

Finally, the cinematography by Roger Deakin, whose other work includes ‘No Country for Old Men’, ‘Skyfall’, ‘A Beautiful Mind’, ‘The Big Lebowski’ and ‘The Shawshank Redemption’, was excellent. Each shot was constructed to add to the emotionality of the scene, the colours were very muted throughout which added to the feeling of desolation and the coldness. The bleak winter along with the desperation of the characters was echoed through the lens.

This is a film that really leaves you wondering what you would have done in that situation. It is thought provoking and emotionally difficult. It also has an atypical ending which did not resolve everything and which left the audience unsatisfied. Indeed the audience at the Moonlight Cinema, who had been incredibly silent throughout the two and a half hour film, were audibly exasperated when the credits rolled.

Overall, I think this film did a very good job of holding tension throughout, of building emotional attachment to characters and of manipulating the audience to feel conflicted about the events. I give this film 3.5 out of 5 stars.

So, how have you been lately?

19 Tuesday Feb 2013

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I feel like I haven’t been updating as often as I should, and I’m sorry to say it’s because I haven’t been doing so great lately. I’ve been dealing with some stuff that’s come up in therapy and to be honest it’s been taking up a lot of my time just keeping myself afloat. I’ve had to answer the question ‘So, how have you been lately’ a lot over the last few weeks and it’s been increasingly difficult to feel genuine when I say ‘Yeah, good, and you?’

In addition to the therapy stuff some of my attempts to make some new friends (as advised by my psychologist and my GP) have gone pretty disastrously badly. Breaking up with friends (yes, it’s a thing and it’s something people should do more often) is something I never enjoy.

I’ve spoken to a few of my friends about my current struggle and they all assure me that it will be over soon. I kind of know, deep down, that this must be the dark before the dawn but at the same time it feels so very, very dark.

I’ve been trying to do the right things for myself: taking my medication, and seeing my psychologist and my GP. They talk about me apparently, and worry about me. I don’t know whether that makes me feel better or worse!

I’m learning to be nicer to myself when I think I’m being unproductive. Art is not something that can be done in a production line, it has to come from somewhere and go to somewhere. I guess the plus side of this current slump is that I have lots of great material. Or something.

Right now I’m trying to focus on simple things.

–          Drinking more water, having less caffeine and eating well;

–          Exercising and stretching;

–          Meditating and being in the moment;

–          Not pushing myself too hard; and

–          Continuing to pursue relationships which nurture me.

There has been some good stuff taking up my time too. I’ve started taking acting classes and am really enjoying the new outlet for my creativity, even though some of the activities I find incredibly challenging. The last weekend was filled with some amazing socialising; a wedding and a beautiful catch up with a friend from out of town.

I hope that I’ll have some more awesome stuff for you all soon, photo essays, writings, adventures and other things. In the meantime I’m going to take each day as it comes and hopefully things will improve.

Why can’t I just stay in bed?

22 Monday Oct 2012

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It’s hard to explain my depression to someone who’s never been through it. It’s normal for people to feel sad sometimes, everyone has times like that and there is a comfort in knowing that you have something to be sad about. For me, at this moment in time, I’m sad for no reason. I feel like I’ve been hollowed out and all of my emotions have been replaced with ‘sad’ or ‘nothing’. Normal sadness and grief are sharp, they stab you at one point, for one reason and you know it, depression is like white noise that you can hear all the time, if you concentrate on something else for a while, you can not think about it, but the noise is always there, gradually wearing away at you.

People who have watched Dexter might have a bit of an understanding of what I mean here, but I feel like the times when I’m happy are a mask, a costume that I put on. If I pretend to be happy I can convince myself for a while that I’m ok, but it doesn’t last. I can distract my self with TV or watching stuff on youtube, even going to work or visiting people, but it’s only a band-aid, as soon as it ends I go back to being filled with an enormous black hole, a heavy feeling in my stomach that makes me feel sick.

I saw the GP this morning, told him about the crushing sadness. I feel like since starting the medication (a bit over two weeks ago) my anxiety has reduced significantly, but now I’m just full of empty, directionless sadness. The worst thing about it is that it’s not as though I’m sad about anything, I’m just sad. All I want to do is sleep, or stare out the window or some other equally motionless activity. The GP and I decided to increase my medication. He said I was looking better than when I last saw him. I guess it’s comforting, but I really don’t know if I feel better. Without the anxiety I feel like there’s a gaping maw of sadness waiting to swallow me if I let my defences down.

The thing about my depression is that sometimes I feel like I’m defined by it; that I wonder who I’d be without it. I get that it’s a sickness and I get that this is possibly as bad as I’ve ever been, but sometimes I wonder who would be left without it. Sometimes I feel like I’ve grown up with it and I’m not ready to let it go, but then I remember that I’ve been working so hard for so long to get well that it doesn’t matter what comes next. I am me and no one can change that. The things that happened to me over my life will always be there with me, and if I can kick this depression maybe I’ll be able to achieve some of the stuff I’m too frightened to even try right now.

This is a bit rambley, so I’m sorry, but I’m not really doing that well. Before I go I have to mention this blog:http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com.au/2011/10/adventures-in-depression.html , it says a lot of what I’ve said with pictures. Except that it sort of has a happy ending and I don’t yet.

Also Jenny, The Bloggess, has lots of great things to say about depression/mental illness, like this: http://thebloggess.com/2012/04/depression-lies/ this one is pretty great.

Accepted!

12 Friday Oct 2012

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I found out on Thursday that a short story I submitted was accepted to be published in a local writers’ magazine. Now I don’t know exactly what the distribution of the magazine is, nor what sort of scope of readership it has but none the less – I will soon be able to say that I am a published author. Just saying it feels really really good.

I’ve had some really positive feedback from my friends about this and it makes me feel like I am not wasting my time with this writing caper. I know that I said I wasn’t doing it for the fame, or the compliments, but they certainly help.

The magazine is called “Positive Words” and my story will be featured in the November issue. If you’re interested in purchasing a copy of the magazine contact the editor, Sandra.

In other news my knee is recovering well, both my physio and my surgeon said it’s healing well, which is good to hear. It has been a pretty painful and disheartening experience, and I’ve probably got another six months of rehab before I’m back to normal, but I’m getting there.

I also started taking antidepressants this week. To be honest I am really surprised at the significant difference in my mood and energy levels even over that short time. I think a small part of me was scared they wouldn’t work. I am alert, I have motivation for things, I haven’t cried for several days, I am much more resilient to set-backs and stress (particularly at work). The only side effect I am aware of at the moment is that I constantly feel like I’ve had too much coffee – buzz buzz. My workmates commented that I was super perky when I said good morning the other day.

I haven’t decided yet whether this is an effect of the medication itself or whether it has improved my brain chemistry to remove the lethargy and inertia commonly associated with biological depressions. Either way, slightly jittery and overly excitable are preferable to being a crying, anxious puddle who doesn’t go outside. I don’t expect to take the medication forever, maybe six months while I get through this period of my life, but I hope that this desire to grab life by the horns and increased energy continue when I stop.

What it means to admit I have depression.

04 Thursday Oct 2012

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I have struggled with depression a lot in my life I have just turned 28. The first time I was referred to the school counselor I was 11 years old. After that I saw several counselors, psychologists, psychiatrists and family therapists throughout my school life and early adulthood.

When I was 14 I tried to kill myself. Not very effectively, I really just wanted someone to notice and help me. I left home when I was 18 and moved in with my boyfriend who was even more fucked up than me. There were times I would cry myself to sleep. For more than ten years the black cloud hung over me.

However, in the last few years I have felt better. Since I ended my last serious relationship, in mid 2009, I thought I was better. I thought I’d kicked the Black Dog out of my life.

About a year ago I started seeing a psychologist. With her I have made some real break-throughs about who I am, what I want out of life, who I should surround myself with. She is helping me to learn to love myself and to assert my needs for emotional support from people around me. She is teaching me how to feel human again.

But right now it feels like too much too fast. For the last month I have found it harder and harder to face people. The very idea of it fills me with dread. I just want to hide in my room and never leave, and yet I’m filled with loneliness, emptiness. Sometimes it takes all my energy, every ounce of willpower, just to leave the house. I sit in my room and weep. For no real reason – it just hurts. Night time is always worse.

Little things will trigger a spiraling internal dialogue about how worthless I am. Sometimes it’s not even that clear as negative internal dialogue, just something happens that reminds me of all the pain I’m trying to manage and it comes welling up.

I feel heavy inside all the time. Like it is harder to walk, to move. I feel like I’m wading through waist-deep honey. Sometimes I think about driving my car into a wall, or hurting myself in other ways just to make it stop. It is an effort to smile and make conversations with people; to hide what’s happening inside. I don’t want anyone to know because I’m ashamed.

I am afraid they will think I’m a whinger, that I have everything going for me, that I have nothing to complain about. I’m afraid they will look at me as though I’m a burden to them. That they will push me away because they don’t know how to deal with me. Part of this is the depression, whispering in my ear, lying to me, but part of it is true.

I have not had a good record of having people around me who have the emotional know-how, resources or willingness to support me so when I reached out to them they push me away, or placate me, or distract me, or deny me.

It has taken a lot for me to admit to myself that I have depression. Even with the stuff I was doing with my psychologist, it’s only in the last week that I’ve said to myself ‘You are not ok. You need to take steps to be ok. You will be ok’.

So I’ve made an appointment to get some antidepressants. I’m seeing my psychologist regularly. I am writing this here because I need to say it. I need people around me to understand that sometimes I just can’t see you and it’s not your fault. I need people to know what’s going on for me, but I don’t need you to do anything different. Just be yourselves, your gorgeous selves and let me do the work with my psychologist and my doctor. I don’t need you to be my counselor  I need you to be my friend. To hug me, to tell me you love me and to give me some slack when I need it.

I need to tell you this here because I can’t tell you to your faces. I’m just not that strong.

I need to say it here because there are people in the world, many that I don’t even know, who need to hear it, to know it’s ok to say I am not ok, to know that depression lies and that you are not alone.

Hard days and nights

11 Saturday Aug 2012

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This last couple of days have been particularly hard for me. In addition to being cooped up inside for the second week in a row I’ve been going through some pretty heavy self-reflection.

I had a run in with my estranged father. He came across this blog and I was horrified. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was about it that really bothered me for a while. Once I’d thought about it though, I realised that it was because I don’t want him to see me like this; exposed, vulnerable, open because I don’t feel like he deserves it. Because I think he will hurt me if he knows what’s happening in my life.

We had a very strained relationship when I was growing up for several reasons; the most salient for me was the way he approached my chronic depression. My father doesn’t believe in psychology/psychiatry or indeed in depression and so when asked to participate in family counselling sessions to help me he was sarcastic and dismissive. He was effectively saying “pull yourself together, it’s all in your head and you just need to get over it.” Not super helpful sentiments in terms of my recovery.

After my parents separated a few years ago my contact with my father has been limited to emails for birthdays and Christmas and I was happy with that. Each time we had contact I remembered why I didn’t want to be around him. I came away from those interactions drained, my soul heavy and unable to relate to his outlook on life.

I have been looking at some of my habits, friendship groups and lifestyle choices for the last few years and seeing how destructive they are and in some ways how much they are not authentic to me anymore.

When I was at uni I had several different groups of friends; some of whom mixed and some of whom were not compatible with the others. Over the years I have let most of these slip by the wayside, reducing my social circles to just one. Without realising it that one circle had told me that I was different, that I didn’t deserve to have ‘normal’ friends, and that I had to stick in only that circle because it was the only one that could truly understand me. It was almost like having an abusive lover who wants you only to hang out with them.

Now I don’t want to imply that any single individual within that group was saying this, because they have always been open and welcoming. Merely that this is how I chose to interpret my membership to the group and my own identity within it. I no longer feel like that group is where I want to be, and that makes me sad in some ways but also relieved.

I have started the long and slow process of developing new groups of friends and new social circles. I am impatient though because building up friendships takes a lifetime and I don’t want to wait that long.

I’m also a little lazy and a little afraid. I don’t want to have to put myself out there, to be vulnerable to rejection by groups/people because I’m new. It’s emotionally draining to try to make in-roads into groups, most people my age have got pretty solid, well defined and long standing friendships. But it’s either that or become a lonely hermit, which is not really what I want. So I guess I’ll just have to suck it up and get out there and hope that people are welcoming and open to someone like me trying to find her way.

Next week my job is sending me to Adelaide for a training course so I will hopefully be able to get some photos of the city of churches to post here.

I found my diary…

23 Monday Jul 2012

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I’ve mentioned before that I’m writing some memoirs. At this stage they’re largely for my own use, so that I can process some stuff that’s going on for me, but today I found a diary, an online journal.

It has entries dating from May 2001 to September 2007 although most of the entries are from between 2001 and 2004.

I read over most of the entries today and it was an eye opening experience. It was strange, it sounds like me, but it sounds like an incomplete version of me. No doubt I’ll look back at this blog in a year or two and feel the same.

One or two of the entries match up with the stuff I’m writing about in my memoirs. I haven’t decided if I’m going to include the entries, where they match up in the final product or not. Maybe I will, they add an interesting perspective into what I was going through at the time, but they are also very raw.

This blog may seem raw and vulnerable to some of you and I’ve tried to be transparent, but it’s not raw. I think very carefully about what I tell the world here.

I didn’t have that same consideration when I was a kid. I just wrote what I felt, I wrote so that someone read it, some of the entries look like cries for help, or for attention, for someone to notice how sad I was. There is also an element of showing off, like was competing for the ‘most fucked up life’ award.

It’s funny how much we change. Reading my old journal is like talking to a stranger. A stranger I’m glad I don’t know anymore, she was not happy.

PS: I will be going to my 10 year highschool reunion next Saturday, we’ll see if other people have changed as much as I have.