Morning Pages #47 (16.04.2017) (26.04.2017)
Sunday 16th April - 10:57 a.m.
It’s quiet and my love is fast asleep. He had a hard night last night, found himself in an expectedly troubled state of mind, triggered by reminders of a turbulent past. I saw that it was tough on him, and worried about him in his red-eyed silence, but thankfully the night was salvaged by good music and quite a bit of alcohol. Perhaps a burger and some chips also played a role here, though it was not as meaty a role as was held by the drinks.
I wasn’t entirely myself last night either, because our company consisted of people that he had history with, and that I had only ever heard of in passing. Meeting them was a big deal for me, even though it wasn’t a night of much significance for him.
Wednesday 26th April - 3:03 p.m.
Ten days exactly has passed and I’m right back here at Evan’s, well most of me is. We had a cycling accident on the 21st, last Friday. I was the only one who got hurt, thankfully, because it was really mostly my fault. There was a roadworks sign in the bike lane somewhere in Reservoir, and Evan saw it and started to slow down. He was in front of me. I saw it too, checked behind myself to see if there were cars coming, saw there was one, and tried slowing down too, but not fast enough. It was raining a lot as well, and so when I inevitably hit the back of him, I fell and skidded on my face. I busted my lip and chin, chipped my two front teeth, and grazed my knee quite badly. Living has been a bit of a struggle since, but hopefully it’ll all be clearing up soon. My teeth are incredibly sensitive right now, and eating is a bit of a struggle. I just had pancakes for breakfast with Evan and it took twice as long for me to get through them than it otherwise would’ve. And my face is still badly scabbed, on my upper lip and on my chin. It’s getting less painful by the day but it’s still rather torturous. I had a nasty fever on Sunday morning, after getting all my dental work done on Saturday. I was nauseous for three or so hours, from 7 a.m. till about 10 a.m., and Evan stayed with me the entire time. He watched me puke. He made sure that I kept eating, because I was half-starving myself since the accident happened. It’s been an ordeal, and I’ve been fighting back a depression, I think. It seems easier when he’s around. He stayed with me from Friday till Monday afternoon. I was then alone from Monday night till Tuesday night, and most of Tuesday was difficult. I barely slept on Monday night.
I am mourning my perfect teeth, because I did have perfect teeth. And I never took them for granted either. I brushed vigorously twice a day or so, and I regarded anything happening to my teeth as one of my worst fears. And now it’s happened. Mundell asked if maybe that was a good thing, that I experienced one of my worst fears. I can understand how facing one of my worst fears can make me a better person, a stronger person through the experience. I also feel like maybe I bring this all upon myself. I ask the world to deal me a hard hand so that I can see what it’s all like: so that I can experience everything and say that I’ve lived a life well-lived, well-full of it all.
Last night, Evan was talking to me about the future, but in very bleak terms. He was talking about the ends of our lives, in relation to the ends of our past lives. He’s convinced that we might’ve died four days apart, because we were born four days apart in this one. But he also said that he believed we were able to fall in love so quickly because we were simply continuing from where we had left off, when our souls were connected to other bodies. We found each other again and said to ourselves that it was time to get right back to it, time to get right back to being with one another. I thought that was an interesting idea, the fact that the energy between us could be strong enough to transcend the physical form, but it definitely explains how we were so in sync from the get-go.
I know it’s been a while since I’ve written here, and I feel a little iffy about writing again today knowing that I probably won’t be maintaining this as a daily thing. Uni’s just been so demanding, and I’m too tired, especially now. I just felt like this would be a little therapeutic too, and lord knows I need that right now. Thankfully, I haven’t lost the entire ‘stream of consciousness’ side of this, because I have been typing rather quickly, I’ve noticed. It’s 3:17 p.m., and I’m already maybe halfway through my second page. Granted, I did have a little entry from ten days ago that I haven’t the heart to delete, because I still remember that moment. It was so quiet and still, and dark. I was behind Evan’s couch, just kneeling on the floor, typing and being very aware of the sound of my typing. I didn’t want to wake him. I love him quite a lot, it seems.
I let him read my entries from the 14th and the 22nd of January, after the night we met and our first date respectively. I couldn’t believe I’d let him do that. He also knows the URL of this blog, which I feel may or may not influence the way I write from here on out, but he promised me that he wouldn’t abuse that knowledge and that he wouldn’t read any entries I didn’t want him reading. I believe that he won’t. I really do. So I don’t think I’ll change the  URL. But there are things that I haven’t told him about Ikaros, and these are things that I don’t think he has any interest in knowing anyway. I just feel like if he were to read them, he may feel hurt I didn’t tell him, even though they are of no relevance. Ikaros is entirely in the past. He messaged me yesterday, mostly because I’d made a post on Facebook about my cycling accident, but he also said something unnecessarily cryptic that pissed me off. He wants me to be thinking about him, I think. He said that a while back, I asked him a question which he happily answered, but he’d recently been thinking about that question again and feels like the question I asked had a second hidden question whose answer was given through the answer he had given me for the first question: an implied answer, in the subtext of that conversation. He said it was the kind of thing we’d need to talk about in person, but I don’t really care about it enough to be curious. I’m just a little mad that he even attempted to make me curious about it. I’m mad that he wants me to be wasting my time thinking about dead scenarios, ghosts of conversations that we’ve had, like I have the mental energy to waste on that.
I’m going to take a break, return to this when I feel the time is right, which will be very soon I think. And if not, then I’ll just wrap it up here. I want to be writing creatively, but my mind is too full and I’m too plagued with all the bullshit that’s been happening lately. I’m worrying about too much and I know I shouldn’t be, but I am. And as soon as I can write away all those inhibitions, I’m not going to attempt any more poignant, elegant works. I just want to be raw and unrefined for a while, because I feel like I’ve earned that right with all this focus on propriety that school inspires within me. It’s exhausting.
I’m back. Evan is cutting Daniel’s hair right now, and we were just playing Uncharted 2 before he turned up. I’m very self-conscious about my face right now, because I know it’s still looking rather hideous, because of the injuries. My scabs in particular are giving me a lot of grief, not just because it’s gotten insanely difficult washing my face, alongside the rest of my body too because of this bloody knee. My graze was healing up pretty well until I had a shower last night and now it’s gone back to feeling pretty stiff. It’s very hard, and I’m hesitant to wash it again because of what happened last time. Thankfully, because of the ANZAC Day Holiday on Tuesday, I haven’t had to go to school this week either. I feel like I’ll have to go in tomorrow though, for my journalism class only hopefully. I could easily skip it though, and back it up with a medical certificate, but I just don’t want to waste my last sick day for that subject in Week 8 knowing that I’ll have to make that 9 a.m. start four times over until the end of the semester. Goodness, a month left of this semester and then exams. And I’ll have one more semester till my graduation, if I don’t go for my honours. Should I go for my honours? I’ve been on the fence about it since January, really. I don’t know if I should bother with that last year of my a bachelor’s degree with honours, when I can just get my bachelor’s degree and have it over with. I still don’t know if my bachelor’s degree is going to be worth anything anyway, I mean it’s currently worth -$30,000 or so, just because of my bloody student fees. Lord knows if I’ll ever break even on that in my field. But honestly, I couldn’t see myself studying anything else, even though I’ve gotten so into my geography/environmental studies subjects. I wouldn’t ever see myself as a landscape management major in the environments degree, but I could potentially see myself double-majoring in creative writing and geography. I don’t know if I have the credit points to apply for a double major now, in the final year of my degree. I have done a surprising amount of geography subjects, so maybe? The School of Geography have been sending me a whole bunch of emails but I feel like they’ve all been automatically sent to students who achieved high marks in subjects regardless of their course structure. I feel like I can definitely do a few more geography subjects around my creative writing subjects. My creative writing subjects don’t even feel vital enough to form a major, if I can be candid. It all feels like such a bludge. Add the disappointment and limitations of Writing Journalism to all of that, and I feel like all my interests have been failed to be taught at this university. Nobody learns how to write creatively. You just do it. I’ve attempted to learn how to write creatively and it’s resulted in me feeling alienated from even my own writing. It’s been an intense process, having to consider my passion as a discipline. Sometimes I feel like this may not even be worthwhile by the end of it. Sometimes I feel like I’ll have more luck and more job satisfaction if I were to pursue the opportunities presented to me by my geography subjects. Who knows at this point. But I think I’ll regret it if I don’t at least see if I can apply for a double major. I just don’t know how I’d go about it.
These pages have already worked their magic on me, it seems, even after I’ve failed to do them for so long. Here I am, writing about something that’s unknowingly been plaguing me for quite some time. I have to get this sorted. I just don’t know how. But that shouldn’t stop me, I know it shouldn’t. I have to get this sorted.