Janet (j4) wrote,

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Time yet for a hundred indecisions

Quick update of what's been happening:

The Animatrix on Monday night was good. "Detective Story" was particularly effective -- wonderfully dark and scratchy animation style, a coherent standalone story, and a bit more development of the "Alice in Wonderland" theme which counterpoints The Matrix. "Kid's Story" (by the same director) was also effective. "Beyond" was excellent, probably the best standalone story (and an ending that reminded me of Alan Garner's Elidor -- I hope that isn't a spoiler for either, I don't think it should be). "The Second Renaissance (Parts I & II)" provided some good background for The Matrix, as well as some fantastic images -- the armies of robots reminded me of the marching hammers in Pink Floyd's "The Wall". "Matriculated" was a bit silly, pretty psychedelic animation but I didn't have a clue what was supposed to be going on in the story. (Though that may be partly because I was so tired by that point.) The music for all the films was really good, too; I shall have to see if there's a soundtrack album!

Visit from addedentry last night -- good to catch up after we hadn't had much time to talk at my birthday party. I introduced him to the delights of the Carlton, we listened to T. S. Eliot reading "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" (thank you again addedentry for the CD!), and he failed to be convinced about the attraction of poi.

After dropping addedentry off at the station and returning home, I decided to go back out to the Carlton for the long cool pint I hadn't been able to have earlier (because of driving); thought beer and company might cheer me up more than staying at home feeling mopey. Mixed success.

* * *

And now some unfocused musings with a side-order of angst.

* * *

Something I've been meaning to say for a while:

The Game

The first rule of the game is: There is no game.

The second rule of the game would be that you don't talk about the game, except that there is no game.

The third rule of the game is that there is no end-point to the game. Asking to conclude the game will result in incomprehension or denial, because there is no game. The game ends when it has ended.

The fourth rule of the game is that other players are considered to be insignificant, because to acknowledge "players" would acknowledge the presence of a game (see rule 1).

The fifth rule of the game is that the rules of the game may be changed at any time without prior notification and without the consent of other players. (See rule 4)

The sixth rule of the game is that there is no game.

* * *

People are strange, when you're a stranger

Some things make me furious. Other things just make me confused and saddened.

Is it presumptuous to be angry on somebody else's behalf, when they themself don't seem to be offended?

From the way some people (don't) look at me and (don't) talk to me, I feel that I am regarded as being tainted by association. If so, then I rejoice in that taintedness. I want nothing to do with cliques which are all cotton-wool on the inside, and all teeth and claws on the outside.

* * *

On relationships

I am terribly bad at ending relationships. And I have realised (while musing, à la Tempest, on wrecks) some of the reasons why.

Basically I have no clue how to say to somebody "I don't want to be involved with you any more." Or rather, I don't have a clue how to say this and make it clear that it's pretty much non-negotiable. I think at least part of the reason I find it so hard is that I don't have a strong enough sense of my own worth; I don't feel that I have a right to say "I want to end this" for no better reason than "I would be happier without this relationship". After all, to say that implies that I'm just selfishly chasing my own happiness -- whereas I should ("should") be working at making the relationship work out. Shouldn't I?

Because I don't seem to know how to call a halt -- and/or don't feel I have a right to do so -- I tend to just let the relationship slide; I get progressively more uneasy around the person in question, but daren't say anything. (The uneasiness and lack of effort probably constitute some kind of subconscious effort to make the other person become annoyed/bored/cross with me, in the hope that that they will end the relationship, thereby removing the decision from my hands.) They, meanwhile, tend not to notice my uneasiness; and I end up resenting them for carrying on with the relationship regardless -- "can't they tell I'm unhappy?" -- well, no, they can't, and I can't expect everybody to be able to read my mind.

(Always tangled in Knots. I don't want to play these games.)

To go off at a slight tangent... There seems to be a very strong feeling around here that "making relationships work" is the main point of having relationships in the first place. That it isn't a real relationship unless you're spending all your time negotiating, "working at it", trying to fix things. It's funny... when I was younger I used to believe in love. I used to believe that relationships were about spending as much time as you could with somebody because you loved them. Not about spending "quality time" with somebody because you wanted to "make things work". Is it just a difference of phraseology, or is it really a difference in attitude? I can't help thinking it's the latter.

Yes, all relationships need "working at" sometimes. But if that's all there is, what's the point? It's like owning a computer just so that you can spend all your time fixing it. ... Ah. Suddenly it becomes clear.
* * *

and the rest...
I feel detached from everything, and nearly everyone.

I feel the ebb and flow, and it does not touch me. Everything seems to be poised, waiting; waiting for the wave to break. (One with the ocean and the woman unfurled.) I feel as though I am in a dream and I know it is a dream but I cannot wake up, cannot break the spell, dare not try to force myself awake for fear of the consequences. (Till human voices wake us, and we drown.)

One hand cupped under my chin, holding my head above the water.

Six small words in answer to a question, confirming my heart's choice, drawing out the path, the parallel lines. (Every place that I have been.) I know where I want to be; I just don't know how to get there yet. The map is not yet drawn, and the boundary's undefined.
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