At this specific moment, my mind flits between ideas such as staying in New York and working hard where I am, which everyone seems to believe is best for my career. I consider moving back to Texas, specifically Austin. I consider checking out the west coast. I fancifully think about traveling through South America to really learn Spanish, possibly finding a graduate school in Argentina in which to enroll. Maybe it’s because of boredom. I don’t really know. I doubt, at moments like this, that I have the capacity or drive for actual lasting happiness, although I realize it is a common belief that happiness is not lasting – that there are only moments of it. Satisfaction, then. Contentment. I wonder if that’s where I am right now. I suppose it could be. So then, if so, perhaps it is not enough.

A couple of weeks ago I had a meeting with a director of a different department from mine. He travels frequently for work. I commented that it must get tiring. He responded that it didn’t really bother him because he loves his job. I think that must be a really fantastic feeling. Granted there are so many different types of people in the world, but I wonder why I don’t feel that same level of fulfillment and whether I possibly can. I wonder if I should have majored in something else, or should have become a programmer, or what to do, now, knowing that I haven’t been terrible ecstatic with anything I’ve done, minus working those relaxed, low-paid hours in the studio, perhaps.

I wonder why so many other people seem content working for years at a job which doesn’t make them happy and I quickly try to change my position. Once again, it brings me back to feeling that perhaps I am wired wrong for society, but I don’t know. Today, I don’t feel any deep depression. I don’t feel that fear of being terrifically out of place. I just wonder if there is something better out there. I guess that’s the trouble with me. My mother told me many years ago that nothing is ever enough for me. I think about that often – about how right she must’ve been.

BigP and Roger with Ruby and Eve

I’ve been work a lot at my new job as a web producer which is much more project management than plain web production.  I am still figuring things out.  Not much more to report there.

My friends from Switzerland, BigP and Roger, visited us for two weeks just recently. It was very nice to have them here. I so hope they come back before too much time passes.  Hopefully I’ll get around to making a photo gallery of their visit soon.

Justin recently lost his job at JetBlue – total bummer.  It makes being in NY far less positive, I think.  The only consolation is the gentle tug of Autumn which has been lingering around the edges of the early morning or late evening hours…

Nothing is concrete.

After 2 years in New York, I still don’t feel as though I have ever lived here. Why is that? Is it because I know in my heart I am biding my time? Probably. Moving to NYC is something I did out of coercion—maybe persuasion is a better word. At any rate, I accepted it because I was looking to make a change in my life anyway. Chicago was the city I’d set my sights on, but America’s first city offered me a job, I already had family here, plus my sister was requiring me to go where she did, and Val!’s plans certainly included New York. There was no great reason not to move to New York.

I wonder if the feeling of living a transient existence and just waiting, waiting in limbo, would be the same regardless. I know Texas is in my eventual future, but I’d still like to feel settled and cozy in the interim—like I belong to a place and it to me. Like I have a positive, loving relationship with my current city, as cheesy as that may sound. New York, why are you so elusive? Is it entirely my fault?

I see it from the periphery. I see how cool New York is, how interesting it can be, and what it offers that no place else really does—something for everyone. It’s easy to rebuke NYC for being so hard-nosed, so unfriendly, so not midwestern/southern. I just want, for the rest of the time Justin and I are here, to love it like other people openly love it. I just don’t know if I have it in me.

Side note: On the way to see FIT’s Gothic fashion exhibit today, a black man was handing out a newspaper. The cover said “Racism! Hatred!” He tried to hand it to an Indian man walking right in front of me that did not take it. As I approached, he quickly pulled the magazine away from my sight and back toward himself. Strange, but that happens more than you’d think here. There are religious propaganda spreaders that hang out near Queens Mall preaching that God is black. They approach anyone that looks like a minority, but when I (or another white person) walks by, they back away or turn to someone else. In a way, it’s a bummer. What if it was something I wanted to know about?  It’s not like I’ve got religion in my life.  ;) Oh well, no biggie.

FIT’s exhibit was amazing and highly, highly recommended.  If you like black, lace, Gothic style, or are just curious, you absolutely must check it out!  I might write more on this at another time, as I am planning to drag Val! back with me… in full regalia. :)

Justin and Vanessa at Castle Wawel in Krakow - Vistula River flowing past

As some of you already know, Justin surprised me with a trip to Poland for our fourth anniversary.  While we did things tourists are typically expected to do, such as visiting Castle Wawel and snapping photos in Rynek Glowny (the grand square) in Krakow, and strolling through Stephansplatz and along the Danube Canal in Vienna, the primariy purpose of our visit was so that I could experience, first hand, the land of my ancestors.

For a time I’ve been working on a family website based on research my great aunt,

Justin at St. Stephen's Cathedral - Stephansplatz, Vienna, Austria

Vanessa in St. Jacobus in Nysa, Poland

New Life in Forest Park

For a while in college, I worked part-time as a content editor and web producer for a company called HealthyPlace.com. A large part of my job responsibility was to keep the communities up-to-date. I spent 20 hours or so per week scouring different resources and adding stories and news to the front pages of each community, moderating the journal pages, selected journalers to feature, and at one point I even created a new website to help flesh out (no pun intended) our self-injury community. Looking back, I suppose it wasn’t overly conscientious to call the site “Blood Red” because it could have been a “trigger.” I never really understood that concept. To be honest, I never understood mental illness or why people would flock to websites and communities that centered around them and seemed to sort of promote them. I could open a whole can of worms and write tomes of random narrative here, but I will save that for another time.

I don’t like to approach writing in a structured way at all, but somehow, when an issue is too deep, too personal, or too negative, I find myself staring off blankly, avoiding the computer screen like I’d avoid an uncomfortable relationship oriented conversation. My mind essentially shuts down and I become tired. I don’t know what kind of coping mechanism this is, if it’s one at all. I’d probably achieve better results if I gave myself an outline when I find this happening to me – a tool to get my thoughts back on track.

Last night a friend of mine was rushed to the emergency room because they were talking about suicide, locked themselves in the bathroom with a butcher knife, and proceeded to slash up their arm. This person was treated, held overnight, and released this afternoon. I was understandably upset, saddened, and concerned when I heard this news but I was far from shocked by it. The person in question has been known to ‘cut’ in the past, but this definitely felt like a whole different level. Even if suicide was not actually an intent, anything to this extreme is beyond a cry for help – it is, dear friends (and sister who oh-so-loves Whitman), a Yawp. A big whopping Yawp for help.

It seems to me that suicide, or ‘attempted’ suicide, is the last resort of a person that feels not only depressed but also bored and unequivocally stuck in their lives. Depression alone is not enough. I think the perception that you’ve gotten yourself completely stuck, immovable, wriggling on a pin (line 55) without a means to escape is the worst spot to be in and the most hopeless. After all, we as a human race have only hope, according to the Greek myth of Pandora and her legendary box, at any rate. It’s the only thing that keeps us going. Hope. Without that, there would be no art, no progress, no society, no you, no I. Nothing. If we had no hope we’d have nothing to keep us here, nothing to strive for. We’d probably all choose to opt out of life.

That’s what I think suicide is. It’s someone that’s come to the end of their tether, regardless of whether things could change for the better in an hour or a day or a week, they’ve come, at that moment, to the end of their tether where absolutely no hope remains. They find themselves stuck and wriggling, depressed, bored, and they say, “This is the end. It’s my end.” And if everything goes according to plan, it is.

Life in Your Hand

Personally, I always tell myself that if things are at their absolute worst and I find myself completely depressed and feeling stuck, I’d give life one last try in a place very far away from the society that I know that’s put me in such a predicament. I would fling myself headfirst into a different world, whether it was the countryside of France or the hills of New Zealand or the busy streets of China. Even if that meant dying in a faraway and altogether unfriendly place, at least I would have tried one last time. Essentially, I would run away. Maybe that’s too optimistic or too immature, but it gives me strength in the darkest and most lonely moments.

It’s truly Sad, the world some of us create for ourselves. I wish I could make it better. What else is out there?

Your insights are appreciated and any words of hope, encouragement, or positive ideas I can pass along are encouraged.

In an odd turn of events, I’ve stumbled back into the past in the way of my old website. The Way Back Machine has archive some of my old posts. I thought I might share them randomly on this site. Maybe one of these days I’ll just make a comprehensive archive on lyrael.com, but I’m not holding my breath. A lot of them are quite boring, honestly. It’s so bizarre to me to read how important I felt my mundane life was back then what with taking so many webcam photos and writing about movies and snacks and lost friends. Odd how certain things you deal with in your life can completely destroy your self-view. Oh well… I guess my mood is strange tonight somehow, so that doesn’t help the tone of this post.

Time for bed. In the meantime, enjoy a glimpse into my life in 2002 – exactly 6 years ago to the day. I am also throwing in the last webcam capture that site ever had, you know, for posterity or whatever.

July 28, 2002
“And sometimes the dark is too deep…” – me

I am not going to post the entry that this almost became yesterday… Instead I am going to switch gears and say that Patrick has done an incredible job with his new website and he even bought a webcam and seemlessly integrated his webcam pic into his page. Wow, you really kick ass Aspi! Go see his page NOW!

Here is an update from the 26th written when I got home from the gym/tanning after not sleeping all night:

I took the advice of a camwhore! Can you believe that? I guess I just needed an excuse. An excuse to hit the gym again. I know I have been lazy and making up “reasons” not to go. My sleeping schedule has been completely screwed lately. So… instead of going to sleep when the sun came up, I stayed up. I went to the gym and kicked my ass on the elliptical. It’s been two months since I have been to the gym, plus I was running on no sleep, which I am sure is a bad thing. My body was exhausted after 25 minutes. I knew I shouldn’t be there on no sleep, but I had to start going again, and today was the day. After that I did 3 sets of ab crunches and 2 sets of tricep presses. Anyway, my body was screaming at me to stop. I literally had no energy and I felt like I was going to puke. It was miserable. I am definitely going to sleep before I go to the gym again. Anyway, I proceeded to the locker room to wash my face, which was beat red (as always, but it got red fast and stayed that way forever this time)!

Another thing I had on my agenda for the day was tanning. I know, it’s terrible for your skin! I’d never been tanning, and I always have wanted to try it, especially because I have bikini lines from the one time I was in the sun this summer, grrr! Anyway, I am usually a wuss and won’t do things by myself but I am trying to overcome that. I felt so awkward being at the gym without Mike. I brought his headphones with me but they were probably more of a hassle than anything and after my cardio I just threw them in my bag. I am just tired of my shyness/introversion holding me back. I know I would normally not go to a tanning salon alone because I’ve been thinking about doing it all summer (well, since David’s birthday actually) and keep making excuses, like “When I am in perfect shape then I’ll go” or “When someone offers to go with me, then I’ll go.” I decided to just throw caution to the wind and go by myself. I was sweaty and red faced but I drove to the Quarry and went in anyway. And guess what!? I didn’t have to pay because the first visit is complimentary! Rock on! Now, this was a very bizarre experience for me as I can’t think of many times in my life that I have been totally nude in a public place. I was a little paranoid that someone was going to open the door to my little room and lift up the coffin-like lid of the tanning bed, but, thankfully (and realistically) that did not happen. I hesitantly crawled onto the bed once the lights kicked on, thinking, “you should NOT be able to see particles of light moving.” It’s the same thing that bothers me with black light or red LEDs. Man, that type of light is just not natural. Anyway, it was an interesting experience to say the least, and I may try it again to see if I actually tan and like it. We’ll see. I am not gung ho about it. I am just glad I got the guts to do it. In fact, I feel sort of like it would be stupid for me to continue going knowing it’s bad for me, but I also think “Fuck it, if you want to be tan, just do it!” Well… again, I don’t want to be tan tan, I just don’t want to be pasty, blindingly white for the rest of the summer. Off to bed with me as it is now noon and I want to catch some Z’s so I have energy for the rest of my day.

I want to create and live off of my creations. I want to create by myself. I want to create with other people. I want to write, sing, make movies (documentaries for now). I want to help others get published and get published myself. I want to take photographs and sell them. I want Justin and I to take photographs together and travel the world. I want to make videos with Val! and have a following of people that are genuinely interested. I want us to be able to sustain a nice living off of these projects. I want to create, love and be happy – and I want the same for my loved ones and all those that want this for themselves, too.

I want life to be “how it should be.” A community of good people, good friends, creating, enjoying, being out there in the world and really living and experiencing it all.

Thanks for the thunderstorm the other night. That was a great birthday present. And thanks in advance, for the future.

Love,
Ness

“one of these days all we’ll do is create and live off of it, and travel and enjoy it all”

This weekend had it’s ups and downs, but the theme of the weekend certainly was nostalgia. Memories, photos, video tapes were all unearthed and discussed. Despite my exhaustion (hours slept over the last few nights: 3, 6, 6, and 3) from the last few days, I managed to write 14 pages in my little blue book I always carry with me when I boarded the plane this morning. I then proceeded to sleep the entire rest of the way. It’s really nice to reflect, to dissect, and to return to a comfortable, loving life. I might type up some of what I wrote, but I am not sure yet.

In a way, it *feels* a little bigger because of this enormously populated, exaggeratedly important city. Everyone knows of it, speaks of it, longs to be here for one reason or another even if they’re at the furthest corners of the world. Movies are filmed here, books are written here, tv shows are shot here… It’s definitely recognizable, and being even slightly affiliated with a place so well-known and lusted after makes my life feel just a millimeter more significant.

But in other ways, I am much more isolated in this cut-throat, self-serving, me-first sort of city. I lost it the other night, crying to Justin and wondering if I’d ever have any real friends again.

July 4, 2008: Happy birthday, Michieru. Hope you’re making the most of it!