It occurred to me, while handwashing my clothes plunge and scrub style, squatting over two basins of water, that I do a lot of my thinking, or reflecting, while engaged in some form of water-related activity. Usually this means in the shower, and a week ago it was while I was swimming, and this evening, it was while I was washing my clothes. I thought that it was a great shame that family issues mess people up so badly, in spite of their best efforts to stay sane. Today has been an up and down day. My stiff neck has become less painful though I have a bit of a headache perhaps from staring at the computer for so long today, but more of that later.
The morning started at about 5.30am when mum's alarm went off. I was already partially awake as one cannot sleep very well when every slight movement renders a pain of some degree. It is not natural not to move while asleep and one would be amazed to find out, should one have a stiff neck upon going to bed, that the slightest movement seems to utilise neck muscles. You would think that neck muscles are pretty basic ones for turning one's head but gosh how wrong can one be. Turning one's body requires neck muscles, lifting one's arm requires neck muscles, even walking requires neck muscles. Like the muscles in the eyes, neck muscles are unsung heroes, which can be quite literally a pain in the neck.
Anyway the next time I woke up was at 7.30am and that was still half an hour to go before 8am for which I had set my alarm. However in reaching for the alarm clock I knocked it over and out popped the battery. Great. I had to get up now - which was painful not only mentally but physically - but I still couldn't locate the battery which had probably rolled off to some really obvious position but obviously as I was looking for it, I couldn't find it. So I gave up and relied on the mobile phone for time instead. Finally I got up and showered etc and then I had to psyche myself up to leave my room as my father was outside. It's ridiculous but I've not felt safe in his presence since I was 14 probably, when we had to choose subjects for O levels which would decide our fates at A levels which would then decide our lives forever so it was terribly important and I'd obviously decided to fling my A grades into something hopeless and useless and stupid etc to him so that's when I realised that actually education had a motive as well. Where I grew up, it didn't matter if you were the cleverest kid on earth. If you didn't make money you were as stupid as stupid gets. And so I was one of those. Worse yet, I was one of those who had been earmarked for potential as a money spinner but then I had a fatal flaw. I wanted to do something I enjoyed. The fool you could hear him and everyone cry.
I do so hate to be made to feel like I've been a fool. It makes me angry and that anger makes me keep going to try to prove them wrong, prove all those wagging tongues wrong that I can be happy in spite of them, in spite of what they deemed wrong. I would fight to make sure that meaning in my life is not dictated by having the newest it-bag and driving the big red car. I like nice things but these are not things I miss deep down inside. These are distractions that take one away from the blinding existentialism that those who would see would be blinded by, from the people around you, from real feelings, real emotions, real concern, real connection, real communication. Humanity is something money cannot buy. Money can only buy appearances of what we so wish for, distractions that prevent us from looking beyond the superficial, what it can provide. I sound like I'm going into some Capitalism rant ... now what's that reading that I did for Film and Lit. Thinking about it now, film and lit at Warwick, even the cultural studies at college in an abridged way, was a lot to do with social psychology. Art imitates life, but more importantly art questions life as we fabricate it, art resonates with the things we look for, are looking for, that we do not know but will immediately recognise once we find those things. I suppose on the journey, we just have to trust God.
Faith of a mustard seed.
So anyway, I had a really stressful morning and once I got on the bus I thought, oh God, when will I ever be able to feel comfortable in what should be my own home? I guess everything will fall into place soon enough. Much is changing now, with the en bloc sale. I will be sad to leave this place but then with the general comfortable familiarity comes the uncomfortable minutiae. Dysfunctional families can really really mess you up. It's like a life-sentence for a crime you never did commit. Still at least I have my mum and Sis and grandma. I just hope one day soon enough I won't have to sit at the dinner table having flashbacks about what happened in the past during dinner time, the shouting, the tears, the arguments, the being unable to eat, then I have images in my head about what I should do or how I should react if he was to do this or say that ...
I'm tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless lost under the surface
Don't know what you're expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
I've become so numb I can't feel you there
Become so tired so much more aware
I'm becoming this all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you
Can't you see that you're smothering me
Holding too tightly afraid to lose control
Cause everything that you thought I would be
Has fallen apart right in front of you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
And every second I waste is more than I can take
I've become so numb I can't feel you there
Become so tired so much more aware
I'm becoming this all I want to doIs be more like me and be less like you
And I know
I may end up failing too
But I know
You were just like me with someone disappointed in you
I've become so numb I can't feel you there
Become so tired so much more aware
I'm becoming this all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you
I've become so numb I can't feel you there
I'm tired of being what you want me to be
I've become so numb I can't feel you there
I'm tired of being what you want me to be
... I like Linkin Park.
Anyway, that aside, I finally got to my auntie's office and that passed quite quickly - I remember the last time I worked at her office was in the summer of 2004, when I was waiting for my visa so I could take up the temporary position at Warwick's London Office.
I went to collect my visa today. It was very quick and efficient which was good. The first thing I saw was my next expiry date. 31/10/08. As I took the lift down and walked out of the building I felt strangely lonely. The loneliness of someone who flies alone, goes to the airport alone, lives alone, is very much alone ... I worked alone for 2 years in an office completely on my own. I guess it didn't help that I felt so out of place wandering around in the central business district among all the official-looking people in their suits and shirts and formal attire and there I was ... I guess I cannot run from the sneaking feeling that society here looks down on people like me. They see me as a waste of potential talent ... at least in London I don't feel I am a waster, I don't feel the prying eyes of neighbours and busybodies. I just feel alone in London, not an outcast. Crushingly alone sometimes but still that's the only thing that crushes me. Here ... Maybe I am deluding myself. London is another financial hub after all. It's the world's most expensive place to live. I am running toward a mirage.
Perhaps money is the only reason for living. Perhaps they are right.
I miss Finch. Memories are all I have to remind myself that there exists a better state than this that I am in. Outwardly everything is going well enough, but the rot is eating me inside out. I am being eaten alive, slowly but surely. I will never give away the key to my heart with eyes closed. Once is enough. I wonder what happened to that painting. You fool.
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