18 Days of Nissa’s 18 Favorite Things Countdown For Her 18th Birthday 18. ↬ Bumper and Fat Amy
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18 Days of Nissa’s 18 Favorite Things Countdown For Her 18th Birthday 18. ↬ Bumper and Fat Amy
Prologue
I suppose I’d felt lost for years. Well not technically, I knew I was standing at the bottom of Quay Street at the corner of the Viaduct in downtown Auckland staring out at the boats wondering who had the lifestyle that could afford to own one of those boats. Not knowing why this was my favourite place I looked around me at the backdrop of rowdy bars and busy shoppers, then turned my back on it all and looked out over the water; if you were there at the right time, at that magical time of day when the sun is going down and the light splinters over the boats; for a moment, if only one, a girl who doesn’t know how to be religious can feel a spiritual link. Then when the missing part of your soul can make you feel a rising panic at the dawn of each fresh, interminably long day, you can feel that as lost and as confused as you are there is a hint of how complete some people can seem to be and find a silence inside yourself looking deep into the water hoping to find out who you are. It seemed a strange pace to find myself but it was one of the few places I could find peace.
Favourite Anne Rice quotes
"When we are weary we speak of dreams, as if they embodied our true desires - what we would have when that which we do have so sorely disappoints us. But for this wanderer the concrete world has always been the true object of desire and weariness came only when the world seemed dreamlike." - The Mummy "Consequently, if you believe God made Satan, you must realise that all Satan's power comes from God and that Satan is simply God's child; and that we are God's children also. There are no children on Satan really." - Interview with the Vampire "And there lay an essence to the age, for its morals were of a practical ilk, rejecting at every turn the miraculous. With unprecedented courage, they had founded their greatest ethical advances squarely upon the truths embedded in the physical." - The Queen of the Damned. "Eventually the ones you love are simply that." - The Queen of the Damned "Why does shame and self loathing become cruelty to the innocent? How is that so often the case?" - Merrick "She deserves to know what my heart is telling me. She deserves to know the truth. Nothing will ever come of it, nothing can, but she ought to know it. She ought to know that I am devoted to her, that she's supplanted a grief in me which could have destroyed me, which may destroy me still." - Merrick "Yes, I'm saying we might linger. Of course. Lingering after death for some while is not beyond the realms of science to explain someday - a soul of definable substance detached from the flesh and caught in some energy field that wreathes the planet. It is not beyond imagining, no, not at all. But, it doesn't mean immortality. It doesn't mean Paradise or an Inferno. It doesn't mean justice or recognition. It doesn't mean ecstasy or unending pain." - Merrick "It's so easy to wish for death when there's nothing wrong with you - it's so easy to fall in love with death, and I've been all my life, and seen its most faithful worshippers crumble in the end, screaming just to live, as if all the dark veils and the lillie's and the smell of candles, and grandiose promises of the grave, meant nothing." - Violin "Whatever the case, I did nothing but brood about it, and try to keep busy, and the panic grew in me, rising and falling, and it began to come at it's very worst at twilight each day. Now that summer was coming and the days were longer, I knew the waves of panic longer - sometimes from about 4pm till 8. There came that image of me putting a gun to my head and the thought that the bullet would make the pain end. Then I thought about what that would do to Pops and Aunt Queen and I put it out of my mind." - Blackwood Farm.
Before the invention of mirrors men gazed at his reflection, his ‘other self’ in water. To see your reflection is to see your own soul
"Let the morning sun strike the mirrors. Toss the peacocks brilliant feathers out of the silver urn and all over the floor. Don’t hang a ghastly veil over all things bright. Look deep to find the phantom in the glass" - Anne Rice
I LOVE lol catz
Dreams
Dreaming is a part of life. Everyone dreams. They dream for as long as they have life. Even unborn babies dream in their mothers wombs. Dreams are the roots for a state yet to come. They are an event that takes place in the world of the mind when the whole physical body has gone to rest. Dreams a the gateway to an inner world, a world just as real as the waking one. They inform us in a visual language about repressed experiences and other processes of the unconscious. The path of history has been changed as foretold by dreams. It is unknown where in the brain dreams originate, if there is a single origin for dreams or multiple portions of the brain that are involved OR what the purpose of dreaming is for the body and mind. Dreams are my escape. Dreams are where I find myself
Any experiment of interest in life will be carried out at your own expense
Johnny Depp
Holding on
Mother
I was born to a woman already broken. She was beyond repair and even the love of a loyal man and four daughters could not fix the injury to her soul. She never stood a chance. Born in 1944, she was the second born daughter to an ex soldier father and strict Roman Catholic mother. Her parents had already lost their first born daughter and my mother was conceived in an attempt to fill the void that the sorrow of losing a child had created. As so often happens it created a barrier between her and my grandmother from the beginning.
My grandmother wore a beautiful silver crucifix and attended church services as often as her strict routine permitted. Brought up in the late 1920's she was from a generation of parents you see very rarely today. She was conservative, royalist, proud to be British and fiercely religious embracing all the strictest parts of the Bible so few observe today. My grandfather was a docile man. Heartbroken by the loss of his beloved eighteen month old daughter he was from a generation of men who had not had contact with women growing up. One of twelve brothers and sisters, the boys and the girls were kept largely apart and even if it was not in the days when bringing up children in an active way was considered unseemly as one of twelve he was in major competition for any form of attention. He married my grandmother young after having missed out on enlisting in WW1 being only seventeen the year the war ended. Feeling inadequate among his peers he married a woman who seemed on the surface motherly, the very type of feminine attention he had been deprived and craved in an attempt to find happiness. In 1943 during the second world war he had been rostered to sleep in a bomb shelter in London but due to circumstance he had stayed else where. The bomb shelter was blown up and forever after life took on an ethereal quality. He felt he saw life as an outsider, as if he wasnt supposed to be there and therefore looking in on a life not supposed to have been lived. The stagnant nature of his marriage and death of his first born child confirmed this notion in his mind. He believed that as he was living an undeserved life happiness and procreation were not his lot. He was to leave no impact on this world. Darwinianism at its best; the universe conspiring to erase his presence from its creation entirely.
My mother was born to them a year before the end of the war and though he longed to love her a barrier had gone up. He was only comfortable in the company of men and didnt know how to talk to the women who lived under his roof. He and my grandmother were not friends and slept in separate rooms for as long as my mother could remember. She told me stories of the rules enforced on her growing up, there was no music, no friends over to the house and my grandmother was a massive hypochondriac. She would not allow her daughter to go to school so often that she got behind and alienated from the other kids and dropped out when she was fourteen to look after her mother full time.
Sometime in 1958 before her fifteenth birthday she met a twenty four year old bus driver who soon became her escape from her mother. They married on her sixteenth birthday in August 1960 due to the fact that she was already pregnant with my oldest sister. She left her mothers house that day and never attended church again other than when it was unavoidable. Over the next ten years she had two more daughters and determined not to be considered a bad mother due to her youth she was nearly as strict as her own mother. Her husband qualified to be a police officer and their relationship deteriorated; she was very intimidated by his dominant sometimes violent personality and the 1960's still observed the practice of the traditional marriage vows 'to honour and obey'. By the late 1970's she had two teenage daughters and a younger girl and solid knowledge that her husband was having an affair. If she left him she would have nothing, she had watched her parents in a loveless marriage and the prospect terrified her. The 1970's offered the freedom to change things but she would have to start from nowhere. She had no qualifications and three children. To start again would take everything and she knew if she survived she would not survive another. This was the last straw.
Love for her daughters created the required strength and she left her husband in 1977. She trained as a medical secretary but times were very hard and she was prescribed anti-depressants. Her mother was vehemently against divorce and constantly hassled her about her immortal soul while she battled to make ends meet and had to see her ex set up home with the other woman. Life was just difficult. She would see other people enjoying life, embracing the trends, while her life consisted of work and battling with her daughters while worrying she would die alone having watched her life pass her by.
Thats where the knight in shining armour comes in. This is where she meets my dad. A Caribbean doctor with kind eyes who was so calm he balanced out the mania in her head. As the fairy story should go they married and that should have been happily ever after, however that is not the fate the universe had lined up for my dear mum. It would be nice to report that me, my dad and my sisters and financial security could fill the void and make her happy but the anti-depressants remained; her brain irrevocably programmed not to create serotonin without chemical prompting.
She dreamed of the future; she wanted to travel, when her children were grown. She loved her children but we shackled her and she wanted to have a second youth and see the world. She died when I was twelve.
My mum was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1996. She fought it off once only to have an untreatable relapse. All that pain and humiliation of chemo for nothing. She knew she was going to die. She knew she had a pregnant daughter and a grandchild she would never meet; a twelve year old daughter she was leaving behind. When the day finally came and the light left her eyes for good she had only three daughters by her side, the fourth on a plane didnt make it. She left this world behind incomplete and having unfulfilled her lifes wishes, without fixing her injured soul. If that isnt the long winded definition of 'lifes a bitch and then you die' I dont know what is.
I travel now. I wander. Going everywhere, belonging nowhere.
:)
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