Desultory

I'm not good at soundbites.

[owlsstuff]

More irresistible owls here: http://ift.tt/JQ5da3 Photo source (http://ift.tt/23j0fqG) I do not own any of the images posted here. All images are property of their respective owners.

[somethingwithdinosaurs]

Those small, or large, negators that severely altar your perception of your personal existence and reality…

In my experience lead to:

a) self destruction; b) institutionalisation; c) attempts on your own life, followed by more institutionalisation and self destruction; d)… something worse than anything above and more: the destruction of genuine happiness and progress.

[liberatingreality]

The unfed mind devours itself.

Gore Vidal (via liberatingreality)

[somethingwithdinosaurs]

Blank

Peering in the shadows, a little girl smiles back, No fears or apprehensions. Only wishes and dreams Like a chick from the egg A world of possibilities Unruly hair and a knowing grin, Freckles kiss her face. To see the sky full of stars Crumble down as sand at her feet Rough between her toes Peering in the shadows, a delusional woman looks away

[somethingwithdinosaurs]

I am terrible socially and always always have been. I feel people will pounce on me for getting inspiration/confidence from tumblr or reddit. Whatever, GTFO, horses reign me in.

[somethingwithdinosaurs]

Bilbies are ready to go.

[somethingwithdinosaurs]

Salvador Dali (1954). Young Virgin Auto-Sodomized by the Horns of Her Own Chastity. My bathroom decor.

[somethingwithdinosaurs]

The Sun (unedited short story)

The Sun she was a picture of her father's perfection. hair as bright as the rising sun, eyes as deep as the ocean. Skin paler than the moon. she enjoyed picking wildflowers for the family. she was just six harvests old. her mother would comb her hair until it was silky smooth. that is where they sat presently in front of a large mirror. her father entered the room in raptures at his beautiful family. they were to attend a dinner that night. the entire village was to be there, including the drudgery. he did not wish to consort with their kind. he twirled his little girl, all dressed in white and kissed his wife. soon they would make an unforgettable entrance at the manor house. the daughter so desperately wanted to pick flowers to place delicately in her hair but it was getting too late. the woods were a dangerous place at night. the trees conspired, the wolves hunted and strange men danced the dance of death. the lack of flowers made her sad. they arrived at the manor in a timely fashion. the splendour of the place took the little girls breath away though she still felt inadequate with ought her flowers. her mother and father danced whilst she sat with the other children. there was a boy who had a beautiful flower in his shirt. his hair like hers, was reminiscent of thehe rising sun and whose eyes could make grown men weep. A man approached her. this must have been he boys father as there was som familiar resemblance. he offered her a big beautiful flower. her heart raced with excitement. he smiled at her. she took the flower and hid it under her dress as her father approached. the man was jolted aside by her father who was in quite a rage at the man presenting flowers to his young child. she did not understand. she ran to be with her mother as the two mens voices grew louder and shorter. the girls father was still in a rage when they returned home that night. her mother could not console him. frightened of their quarrel the little girl tiptoed outside to pick flowers. there were some beautiful ones at the base of the well. she approached the well to pick the flowers but in the dark could not see where she was treading. the morning sun brought with it a chorus of birds. the mother awoke to make breakfast whilst the father looked to console his child. she was absent from her room and the rest of the house. panic spread through the household when she could not be found. They searched outside. the girls mother screaming as she found a petite shoe next to a dying flower. Her father through the flower into the well in anger whilst her mother clasped the small shoe.the father could not be soothed. he went to the local drinking hole for several hours. he kne3w in his mind what had transpired. drinks could not cool the fire. a beast was rising, writhing and roaring within his chest. blinded by rage and defeaned by hate he made his decision with little thought. it was dark outside as he climbed onto the back of his horse. he made tracks directly for the man's house. fire burned through his head as he rode, loosing all track of time and reality. th image of the man and his flower burned into the back of his skull as he thundered on. He had a boy about his daughters age. his mind was set before the thoughts could properly formulate. he dismounted from his stead and quietly approached the house. he entered easily through an open window. he found the boys room. silently he pushed the door adjar and spent a minute looking at the boy who so resembled his precious daughter. the boy was slumbering peacefully. unaware of the man creeping towards his bed. he placed his hand over the boys mouth and wrestled the now struggling child back to the bed. it was only fair. and eye for an eye. his daughters soul could rest in peace knowing the deed was done. the boy tried to scream but could not. the morning dawn brought no sound of birds this morning. the boys mother entered her sons room to awaken him and was greeted by the site of his pale lifeless body spread eagled on the bed, blood dripping from his little forehead. she clutched her son and weeped. the boy's father came running an fell to his knees. the sight of his son brought him too to tears. their cries echoed out of the house and through the village. the sun contunied to rise. the girl's father lay in bed with his wife peacefully feeling justice had been done. he continued to sleep as the morning lint illuminated the yard. the light travelled down into the well where just iible at the bottom was a small pale lifeless form surrounded by flowers. the girls hair was bright as the sun glistening in the cold water.

[somethingwithdinosaurs]

It's an in-joke with us now.

[somethingwithdinosaurs]

Old notes

Realising one's limitations is about the most depressing stage of self-discovery that is possible. I have searched long and hard, tried to the utmost of my abilities to find whom I am and what I want to do. My entire life has been shrouded in delusion, masks worn and games played to amuse myself. As I had only myself as company, this was satisfactory. Now, as I have grown and broaden my horizons there is no place for such foolishness. But my idealistic self still remains. Expectations soaring to the sky. One dizzying dream after another. The greater the expectation, the greater the fall. I find this out on a daily basis. What makes a person so idealistic? Desperately trying to fulfill dreams, as wild as they may be. Even conspiring for future ways to achieve the ideal. Whilst attempting to achieve the ideal, I struggle to exactly define the meaning and significance of the ideal. This is had curious effects on my life. I spent most of my life, and an alarmingly large amount presently, living within my head. It is a sanctuary, a form of escapism. But be warned, it can be dangerous. Quite often I do not wish to be in the waking world and in many a case have attempted a quick exit. I have been told that setting small achievable goals on a daily basis is a way to remedy this. This is made difficult by my unending fear of failure. I have never accomplished anything in my life worth noting. There was a time when I fooled myself into believing I was accomplishing on a daily basis but the self harm and deprivation I forced myself through nearly ended me. Some would say that overcoming anorexia is an accomplishment. I beg to differ. It is not sustainable. It has no doubt made me a stronger person but in terms of life, I have only moved backward as a result. All this now effects the present decisions I must make. It leaves me wrapped in confusion. Sometimes my head and heart, as it were, are in fierce conflict. This deepens the confusion and creates a vicious cycle. Life has always felt cyclical. No car, no vocation, no independence. Perceived safety in a boyish grin. Does this present past dangers? Am I to forever travel in circles, never bearing from my path. Repetition and déjà vu. I have been here before. Did I walk this road before? Is this the same road? Paved with gold ransacked from the souls of those past. Am I at fault? Do I enjoy playing the game? The mind is always playing games. Games that I perversely gain joy from. Do I rejoice in illness and danger? Dreams of stability seem to be pipe dreams when set against reality. At times I endeavour to rid myself of reality. Play the game. Life is the theatre. You are a star then you are the fool in an oak costume. Do I start my tale at the beginning middle or unforeseen end. The end I predict. A prediction based on illusion. Blinded by ideals I may fail to see the truth. Truth is the concept I must embrace and discover. Never write the names, keep as far from reality as is possible. It may all be a dream, a play of my sub conscious, if no one is named. Not even I. I may cease to exist. It all comes down to truth, truth I must uncover, discover and live. Why do we do the things we do? Why do we play these games? I only want peace and happiness for my circle, but it is a lot harder to attain than I'd ever care or dare to admit. I refuse to see the difficulties. I want to be naive, click my fingers and achieve instant bliss. Life never plays out the way you envisaged. You may have written the script, but all the actors will ad-lib.  Perhaps I am looking for solutions in all the wrong places. I need to be directed and guided. I yearn for the support and approval of others. Eventually however we must all gaze at our reflection, not liking what we see. The realization that your ideals may very well be impossible to live up to. Yet you refuse to let them go. Doomed to a life of misery and unfulfilled dreams. Reality is a harsh mistress. She strikes when you least suspect. She may have words of wisdom and a path laid out for you however I for one choose to ignore this. Clinging to my basic ideals that I can be all that I can, however impossible. The challenge is turning this into a reasonable practice rather than an exercise in futility. We are born this way, influenced throughout our lives but ultimately we know our calling and passions. It is a question of whether you have the passion and drive to peruse them.

[somethingwithdinosaurs]

The problem with nerves

My eyes water when I walk on Lego or other building blocks, and was very jealous when one of the girls I look after was playing floor-is-lava on them.

[somethingwithdinosaurs]

As you were.

[somethingwithdinosaurs]

66 years between us. We nailed being adults.

[somethingwithdinosaurs]

I couldn't decide on what to try and draw.

[somethingwithdinosaurs]

I will never understand social media.

[somethingwithdinosaurs]

We cannot change anything unless we accept it. Condemnation does not liberate; it oppresses. I am the oppressor of the person I condemn, not his friend and fellow sufferer. I do not mean in the least to say that we must never pass judgment when we desire to help and improve. But if the doctor wishes to help a human being, he must be able to accept him as he is. And he can do this in reality only when he has already seen and accepted himself as he is.

Carl Jung

[somethingwithdinosaurs]

Housework finished for the day, so a cheap, but nice, rioja is in order. Not too dark and fruity, a decent amount of length, and, surprisingly, generous tannins. 

When I am strapped for the moolah, I love my cheap Spanish imports.