Like a GOOD girl, I have been silent. I have had nothing pleasant or engaging to say, and so I have said nothing. Swallowed it all down.
Swallowed away the anger; the fear; the dark things we shouldn't bore others with let alone reveal about ourselves.
I have been pacing about the house; a short-tempered yo-yo. Truth is, there is a lot about which I am not happy.
I read the blogs of so many wonderful women living lives I covet, and I have been inspired by them. But I am so very far away from those lives. However much they may have put a spring in my step; my world is small and closing in.
The world has moved on. There was Japan. Then Libya and the Ivory Coast, and twisters in the US. But I can't move on. I have nothing specific to complain about. I'm not grieving a death. Our home is standing. But there is loss - all around, tremendous loss.
And the reality is, we have years of such hideousness before us. Everything that made this such a great place to live has gone, or is denied us. Christchurch is one big suburb, with its ruptured streets, patched pipes and sewers, and precarious power supply; and no heart.
I lurch from hopelessness to illuminating the many, significant opportunities that a razed city presents. I know it's manic.
And I'm aware I shouldn't bore people on my blog with my lamentations. Who, really, wants to know? I don't want to know.
But I need to. I need to say what needs to be said. It might get a little dark, a little strident. I will have to throw off the shackles of my marketing mind that is screaming "blog suicide", and just get on with it.
I would like to say a special thank you to one of my followers, Tattieweasel. Tattie happened to read and comment on my March 19 blog. It wasn't a post of note. But it was the departure point for my dive into melancholy. Somehow, the fact that Tattie commented was enough to pull me out of my self-imposed, turbulent silence.
There's a newly released NZ song by Jon Toogood's collaboration The Adults that captures my mood perfectly with its slightly ominous, repressed tension. It's got a punk vibe with the two-chord thing, but Ladi6 is no punk - she's pure Pacific hip-hop funskster - rockin' it here with Shihad frontman Jon, and the distinctive Shane Carter.
It's definitely not everyone's cup of tea.
6 comments:
I would hesitate to say that you are not alone, not at all, and people harbor rage and anger and like you, push it down, even amidst all the pretty pictures and the poetry and the flowers. The right thing to do is to express it, as you have. Your readers are here for you and illuminating this (completely justifiable, considering the hell you've been through) side of yourself just makes you more human to us. To me, anyway. You will be surprised at how many chords you strike. Sending love across the oceans.
Miss W x
I love the song! What an amazing voice. Now the reason I come here is because I love to read your "voice" and I want to KNOW because I CANNOT imagine. The world turns as they say and new stories get to the top of the agenda but I always found the complete story was told over time. That's why I was so much better at features than news, I needed to know what happened. Don't stop blogging as I said it is good for you! And thank you I have just re-read my comment and want to curl up at the atrocious syntax and spelling but I am so glad I wrote it if only because it helped you!
PS verification was Yabolot - something I am SOOOOO good at!!! ;)
I will take your words because I can't write my own to express how I feel, you have done it so well for me, and I dare say being able to write your thoughts helps so much, perhaps I should at least try (in private).
xx
Miss W - thank you. Thank you so much. Breathing easier again. x
Tattie - yes blogging is good for you, and fellow bloggers are even better. x
Liz - I just want to give you a big hug. You are in my thoughts. And yes, write. x
Well - you said it girl...it is after 1am and I am up...let the 'should go to bed' moment slip by and I am now couch bound and find myself waiting...for the bump to move me on...silly as they are more infrequent now...but seems to be a habit.
I think you are right, the tide has turned, our initial survival mode, urge to get out and into the streets has dampened as people draw back to take stock, and stop to actually look at what is left...or is slowly disappearing...I drive through town infrequently and am caught each time by the lump in my throat and my chest tightening as I see new ways in which buildings, homes and streets can be left in ruins. There aren't any words for that.
Believe that you are not alone in your anger and despair...and if you need to peek out of your house...pop round to ours...you are always welcome xo
Nick - YOU have nailed it. And I feel humbled that my post has resonated with you.
Almost single-handedly you dug your house out of liquefaction after having sent your family away to the North Island - to be safe. You stayed in a house that may or may not yet be deemed a total rebuild through hundreds of worrisome aftershocks; to be with the dog, to take care of business.
You even made and distributed hot dinners to others, and packed up the home of your friends, who were too frightened to come back.
You are ten-foot tall. x
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