I don't know that Charlotte Bronte felt them either when she was my contemporary and at a comparable stage of writing. I was always far more terse, and not descriptive. I think I have the commonality that I can laugh hard and laugh often and laugh early (shown so very well in Blume's Blubber, that great tale about writing, whale riding [double etendre if you know the story as intimately as I might, and as I would wish the next generation of rising women and women writers]) and also that when I immerse the reader in a situation the reader very often wants me to lead and them to follow. There are some splendid samples like this - fiction and non-fiction. I think like Jane Austen, especially in argumentative/persuasive writing (nobody can take away my ability to argue nor my inchocate need to persuade - it must have been linked to some seperation/individuation process much more extreme in me and somehow I can't imagine my Polish boy going through - not like his elder brother - he seems so wonderfully productive, intuitive, educated, creative. I hope that when the boy I do love and who I have badly mistaken for the shadow of the one I hate - there's Jung, Shakespeare, Poe and Conrad - I mean like Heart of Darkness Conrad - which I will admit to reading and picking apart for the early Polonisms. Hey, Polonisms sort of draw me in. Sometimes I think this is to do with my big worry concern that Polonism will go out of style or fashion. Louisa May Alcott and Daphne Du Maurier were authors that really presaged this esteoric concern of mine - and I am trying to fashion something about peripatic writings - I think they are more general when the person is on the move. You can so tell that a person is being dynamic in her systematic side of her thought process. When she is dynamic, it feels like to the reader that she was so freed. Hence the beautifully and wrought iron tension yet fairy lighted Luna Park feeling of much teenage and young adult fiction, the kind I thought I wanted to write once and now I'm not quite so sure. I am thinking now if I appeal to the latency set - the sort of thing Del Simpson wanted us to think of when we made our books - we both of us. And as well as being far more dynamic I get it now about kids being playful and little animals learning about life. Torey Hayden's The Tigers Child really works and stirs and beats that metaphor, and I can imagine there are some languages - not particularly Germanic, and Romantic isn't nearly as sexy as when you've been brought up with it. I cannot particularly imagine Russian and Polish as sexy at least if I imagine for a while through native speaker [!] eyes. And native speaker and ESL student are like fighting words. Picnic Week 1995, anyone? I'll tell the story if I can have the courage to make it sound a little heartfelt and not like a heart hug to the reader. Right now it sounds like someone is throttling the girl I was with air. It reminds me so much of when the girls would cover me with grass, which is a liminal which has stayed with me. I want to sort of insuitate the feelings that the woman she has so grown into positively, realistically and resillently is now saying that never was and couldn't ever be anybody's bitch. The position of bitch with a capital B is a wonderfully empowering one. I can imagine Patti Smith being one. Anna Waronker - yeah yeah yeah! Of course, Aristotle was like the king of peripatic writers. I can imagine Aristotle being this Greek guy today like our librarian. Want to write more about the librarian and the holding environment. Need to go to same. I can so understand why you might like to do work experience at one. It is a very direct way of helping people. They consume the information and assume and presume it on their own experiences. And I can see the relation between the theatrical projection. Some scary absurdist plays do that sort of thing: After Dinner (Bovell: we girls fought so over the Monica monologue that the woman might have been a doll. That can be a very sexy thing. Would like to explore: childlike, childish, childhood and incipient sexuality. The power of the 'gonna be' which probably makes a certain kind of very honest, integral, jounaissance) and also Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf (Albee. I'm still surprised by how much I was able to learn and take in. I couldn't do anything but take in, and my thriving side so wants to show off, share joy, share praise. This is not like me - others never expected it from me or someone like me that they draw in their heads like a shadow magic lantern of the type used in one Road to Avonlea story. I read the real thing and I knew it was another writer. They had the words of the story but not the music. Like they were carrying it as a skeleton box with a cat in it. Is the story then real or pretend? I don't understand why we don't treasure what we need to measure instead of it consuming it. Consuming it as me is a lot better, but still not like the mature, empowered response for which I am groping right now in the dark. It is bothering me a lot less not being understood. I half can't believe that I am coping so well, but I have much more of a misunderstood:understood history. It makes me savour the family who does and will understand me so much more. That's got to be good. Security in incochant and incipent transactions within the family. For the first time in nearly 10 years, have been very open with Maman. It's partly the illness, but I didn't see a need for it when I was well because I saw no need for it when we were alive and present. Hungry ghosts. I believe in giving them a fish or especially them fishing for memories themselves when they want to eat them. I know the ghosts are pretend and yet I sort of consciously make them real. Slightly less control and I would be having dissociative episodes, which I am having this week. The no need for sleep or food is getting surreal. The food I can understand just now, and I shall so eat with a will when I am well. I will probably have a studio apartment and the man I write with).
Cory being a legend. He is like awesome. And he had this incipient sexiness which all the geographical girls. And Mrs Dunkley. I now realise how much her empowerment and encouragement matters. I was a good girl getting her work done. I think it is like 70 defence: 30 real. That 30 percent was the part she was able to bond with. Like, I would always appear to get her jokes while doing my dulce decorum thing, which in my first year I was so wonderful at. I wanted to get away from the bad girl I was being constructed as. More like difficult.
I'm not difficult by a long shot. I know this from the people who so get me in the gut when I talk passion and compassion and love. Went to pick up a book about Van Gogh. Was so going to expect I would have to treat this book with care. I care more for people, and I so have my caring for books. Sometimes books to me are more like people and objects. There are people I love so much that I want to be like Laura in Glass Menagerie and put all her animals in here. And I get the symbolism now and I can analyse it and communicate it and get it at a gut level and put it across to this really comprehensible level. And I can see and feel. It's like I am compensating big time for my sensori-neural difficulties, now I have this context and like this mental map makes sense. I so get "Cardboard and sand is grownup play ..." that Temple said of Tom, because I now directly and indirectly get this level of relationship with men. And I am thinking lots more visually and the other senses will come too. I know my auditory stuff is coming along too - this is the most disordered sense, especially in a spatial relations context.
I could be so the best conceptual maths student. I don't need to feel bad because now I have designed my own ways to live work and study and I am confident in communicating them and relating them. And I thought this really soft pink bunny thought (can you tell from this place that it is playground and playgroup week - why oh why did the paper not come)? And I heard that the old Pizza Hut is going to be a childcare centre. What a beautiful example of rehabilitation. Steve will so love it when I share with him. I don't know if he knew I wanted to work with children someday. I don't know that we shared it. I was like, so focused, on my writing, and so still scared, tentative, uncertain. This is the sort of fear some men know what to do with, and the woman can so empower the little guy inside the man by teaching, modelling, scaffolding. I am so living Vygotsky and the others now. I like innately get working this way, and I am working for play as much as I ever am for more concrete and abstract - oh so literaliste now from hindsight.
It's only by developing my mental landscape and moving stuff around in it metaphorically that I get time. I know I can get time now. I can't get time by seeing it and looking at it. Yet I feel time and I am at home in it. I feel at home in it most when I honour my space. And I honour it by being natural with the clutter, the way Mirka would be at home. I like that sort of living house, as opposed to the other kind. And I am so ready.
Maybe I could be my own sort of engineer. I must admit that I have done so many social engineering things. And I could so help people and give them my skills by example. This is all I wanted when I was a very little girl and I get it on a deep level that the small girl inside me would get. It's like my feelings are now this polyphonic soundscape and each feeling is like a note. That is how I was able to write Our trust is an awesome trust and I could feel the song moving and flowing and I just felt intuitively that it would so work. And people would mean it and follow it. Rather like See You at the Pole. I'm more comfortable making double entendres. I was shit scared of doing euphemisms. I said Voldemort and I used it in such a powerful rhyme. I said his name.
And I was shit scared about the future. I mean, like, what future? I think I now sort of see psychologists as cyborgs who fix your programming. I know so much about Linux and Unix. When I was little I had a system like a DOS/CPM (remember the old Commodores - computers, people - Roger had one!).
I not just respect creative people. Again I was so scared to maybe like stay in my own world. I mean, like I have opened the sluice gates that separated my mind and heart when I was so very very sick and unhappy and scared. I mean, I couldn't even drop a pin around a certain people (yes, show me a people, how wonderfully ridiculous, and so Chomskyian - Green ideas sleep furiously). But now I so see Eric Berne and Transactional Analysis so much better and truer now. I am going to be such a strong fourth force lady, now I have abandoned especially the fourth estate. Journalism is no good for me. I look forward to the time when religious, realistic and speculative will all combine in a multiverse of genre and form.
Even genre awareness is up 100%. I can now identify the reader so well. I used to have these sort of subclinical paranoid ideas - I say subclinical because there was like this realistic - 51%-49% maybe - possibility that perhaps they could come true. I know good ideas come true too and I am much better equipped to live with the possibility and I am less scared to have more radical ideas and then I will get new and better and realistic ones.
And I feel like this little girl who has grown up so incredibly fast and so incredibly far. I think I understand my first three years so much better now, and the other three years (1989-1992). I used to think I could so not get in touch with about 6-30 age range. Yet here I am seriously getting a childcare qualification. Must be all these not-so-great nannies. That's my selfish competitive ambitous side. Yet there is like another dimension to my ambition, like as if you were cutting this apple and doing it for the birds or this little kid that you love so much and you loved the little him and you are going to love the grownup him so very very much .
I now know what a gutless prick I was in Honours years, especially very early in the first. I know the reason too. I was so scared people would punish me for being sick that this very much depleted my energies and insights that would help me to get well.
Back then I learnt how to set up boundaries and this works so well. I am so going to model with the kids by telling them if they want a house and garden and a pool [!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! all the way to the moon or at least the glass ceiling - this is so funny them hitting the glass ceiling!]. And young doctor_leggett paid me like the biggest compliment. I am now so much more available to men now I have abandoned my conformist pretence. Okay mate, I'll just show you what I'm like. I have this corpulent Geyer-type that I can sort of access and use it especially when I really want someone to love me for me to quote a beautiful Mariah Carey song from my girlhood, actually the beginning of my professional career. That white tent is to me as a symbol of me what it could be to other people. I was going through a point of relative mutism and introversion - if you had MBTed me at that time I would have probably hit the roof like a High C.
As I gain more courage in my personal and professional career and my developmental and geopolitical trajectory. The more I embrace myself and others the more tolerance will give me when I am ready and confident to receive it. I never used to be so ready, set, go on that level. I can recall that I wasn't motivated like this after 1994. I wonder how I decided I wanted to be a pro writer when I grew up. Did I have like this power, this intuition. You know it's woman's power, witchy woman as goes the Eagles song. Their women are so like men would experience them in their time and place. I don't think we women have as much perspective on our guys because we're not quite brave enough to take the risk of being one of the guys. I have. I'm proud. I did it then, and I owned it as one of my signature strengths. That is why Peer Support worked so beautifully. I wasn't quite making up the Little Fellow stuff that's been here. It came from my idealisations and much more directly from my experience of devaluation and idealisation. I feel like a human ticker tape when I discuss those two words, as if I had been one of Papa's stocks and I rise and then I crash. But then I feel like this fluctuation is nature, and not like a human construct manipulable by a mere computer, which I must say in a few words is how I feel about psychiatrists and the psychologists. Oh shit. April 6 explained viscerally. It is a possibility, though and I am going to live with all the possibilities and options in the most complete, comprehensive way I can.
It's amazing how organic writing on the computer feels. Again like when I was little and did not get all these uni habits. I did NO creative writing in the sixth form. Again I can't deal with the competition to develop co-operation theme of a certain neurotic-bordering-on-psychotic. That fucking woman was hypomanic. I can imagine her eating her husband, consuming her husband. This is a pretty three-dimensional-imagining. I cannot imagine her eating the dad of her children, rather the guy she ran off in October 1995. That is yet another horrid betrayal which I now see through cellophane glass and one of those paper windows. I may yet make lots of cranes and do Visegrad proud.