Friday, June 27, 2014

Do what you gotta do

There's not a worse nor more romantic feeling of knowing, not thinking that - something ended prematurely. I think the expression is to cut something off at the knees, or feet, or ankles - it's a damn shame. It may have been the couple of glasses of wine last night, it may have been because I returned to the scene of the crime, but I can't help getting carried away with what ifs and maybes, questioning the circumstances in which we met and how the timing was all wrong for both of us and how I wished it were right. When the rug is pulled out from under something that seemed to have potential to both parties, it's hard to escape the pools of ideas and theories of other possibly more successful outcomes.

I'm actually more down in the dumps than I thought I was, or even immediately thought I would be. I mean, I'm accepting of the fact that all decisions made were the right, sensible ones made with brains and not hearts, or guts, and I know the right action has been carried out. But I'm left feeling rather odd, that this encounter didn't have a chance to resolve itself in an organic way, that something ended prematurely, that I now have another ghost.

People from my past become ghosts to me, who I collect and keep in my head. I preserve our encounters and replay them occasionally if I'm ever in need of some company. Some of these ghosts will fade into insignificance, but some, with whom I believe to have some sort of unfinished business, will stay bright and wide eyed and often visit me when I least expect it, or at inopportune moments. These are the people I'm likely to run into five or even ten years down the track, like how Katie runs into Hubbell at the end of the film 'The Way We Were' - to resolve something, to say what we left unsaid, even just to get one last glance into their eyes to find you can still read them like a book.

I am aware of the corny romanticism in this, but I don't care. It's truly the way that I think. My life is cyclic, in some ways the same things happen over and over again. In other ways every experience I have under my belt is a new one. People move in and out of my life for one reason or another, sometimes I think I'll miss them, and I do, or I don't. Other times they made not even a slight dent in the what I imagine to be porous lining of my brain. Most people, though, with whom I have any sort of significant relationship or encounter with, soak in deeply like a stain, damn near impossible to get out without trying.

I like most of my stains. I like most of my ghosts. Some I'm happy to leave them at that, others, the ones I think about late at night when I'm alone in bed and can't sleep, or those who materialise when I'm listening to Fleetwood Mac's 'Landslide' or floating away on my thoughts while I'm making a painting - those are the ones that I know, I just know, will come back into my life. Too much was left unsaid, or I have to look wide-eyed at their face just one more time, or lightly trace my fingers around the outline of their tattoo.

It is my mostly unfaltering faith in this assessment that allows me to simply carry on, and to physically extricate myself from people in my life when the time comes (and it always does). While it may scream "glorified coping method" to probably most of you reading this, and while I don't care I also acknowledge that perhaps that's slightly the case. I figure, though, if I can't trust what I feel then I could never trust what or how somebody else feels, and to have faith in yourself is empirical when it comes to having faith in other people.

* * * 

For once, instead of photos of myself (I can hear y'all saying: "PHEW!"), I'm going to share some of my collection of found photographs. These are some of my newest and favourite additions. They seem to accompany this post very well.


  1. Oh gosh those images are so perfect for this post.Premature endings are always a little odd. I find I definitely over romanticise them and in a odd way I sort of enjoy that? I think straight cut offs can be a little dull. Anyway I'm very happy to find that you have a blog, I follow you on instagram and always enjoy your posts so now (I am sure) I will enjoy them here also. Lally X

    1. Hey Lally! Thank you so much for your comment. I am the Queen of over romanticising so I know exactly what you mean my love X

  2. When I'm zoned out or I can't think straight sometimes 'Landslide' pops into my hand and all the bitter sweetness is able to become endearing and I hope that song helps you too

  3. getting to the heart of it! keep these confessional posts coming..
    - Y

  4. I've just had a premature ending myself, and am also more down in the depths than I thought I would be, so this was a very timely (and, honestly, helpful) read. It's sort of morbidly nice to know someone else on earth gets where you're at. The tension when your brain knows something was right, but your feelings don't, is certainly weird. I'm sure it's better than being totally bereft, and not understanding why it had to end at all, but it still hurts like hell sometimes.

    I love your work, by the way. And, although I don't know you, it sometimes feels like I do because your work and personality seem inextricably linked, which I honestly think is rare. I'm in art school, and it's not often than I see people's work that I think it such a pure expression of themselves.

    1. Hey, thanks so much for your comment. I really enjoyed reading it. And then I took the liberty of checking out your blog which I also really enjoyed.

      What you said about the tension between your brain knowing something is right and your feelings not - that's brilliant. The exact sentiment I was trying to express. I hope you feel better soon - it's also nice for me to know there's someone on the other side of the world who feels the same way!
      Which blog are you updating most regularly at the moment? I'm always on the look out to follow someone new. Best of luck with your studies. X Minna

  5. Oh gosh! That's slightly mortifying, but thanks. I'm sort of chucking them all and starting afresh. If blogging ever does happen, it will be at, but I have grave doubts.

    Thanks again, and best of luck with your work!

  6. and another thing, since all of your most recent posts indicate you are still feeling dazed or sad about your experiences, i like to imagine the theory of parallel universes and that somewhere, an alternate version of me is super happy and that whatever decision was made happened the opposite way.
    Or that there is a version of me who is slightly worse off than my own self and therefore things could be worse. I'm not sure if this is helpful, but it's a different way of thinking about things.