Hahahaha. Who would think of it.

Someone searched for “my secret life as a prostitute” and came upon this blog.

How hilarious is this?

And then, one of my favourite Hallmark-wisdom-quotes:

Fear seems so real, so substantial. Only when we get beyond it, we can realise that it was nothing but an illusion.

Three posts in a day. What kind of an avoidance strategy is this?

OMG

I’m so awfully particular about stuff sometimes. If I tell you, please, bring me a yellow neon marker, and you bring me an orange one, oh, am I pissed off. Of course I try to control myself. Some part of me completely understands this is not the Titanic Disaster, but another just completely freaks.

I think what lies underneath, is a problem with expectations and control. When I expect this pen to be yellow and it turns out orange, it gives me the creeps about generally not being able to control how things turn out. It freaks me out when my plans fail. I want them to be foreseeable, I need the stability to know what will happen and when exactly. Maybe it’s a bit of an autistic trait. I only eat the same things in restaurants, I only go to a few places, I don’t like to try new tastes, unfamiliar things scare me. I have never been drunk, I hate the feeling of not being able to control myself. Which invariably leads to that exactly – throwing fits and toddler tantrums over insignificant things like an orange marker pen. Or the wrong food. Or a change in travel plans.

The perspective of starting work in less that three weeks… oh my, is it torturing my days and nights. The only way to avoid panicking is to study madly. Stuff things into my brain, read, read, read. Which is so exhausting, I drop dead in bed at nights. But I doubt whether this is actually efficient.

This is a deep issue, just scetching it out here. I feel like I’ve dealt with it for a lifetime, but I haven’t made much of a progress. It has its roots in the constant insecurity of my childhood years. There are deep wounds I haven’t overcome yet. Things are chained together, I know how I turned out that way, I can see connections, I just don’t know how to break them yet.

I’m somwhat concerned about the anonymity and the traces I leave behind, when writing things and commenting on other blogs. In order to write freely about my demons, I need this place to be intraceable towards my “real life self”. Because there are other people involved. People, who are close to me, whom I love dearly and I don’t want to expose for the world to see. Because, I can’t guarantee the truth about them is always a nice thing to be told. Not at all. And still, I don’t want them to be hurt.

We’ll see how that turns out.

So there I go again.

I’m my old glorious procrastinating, hiding self.

No yoga done in weeks, no bagua either. Because, you know, I have this pretty excuse of being anaemic. Ok, maybe I’m too anaemic for bagua, where you have to stand as motionless as a pole, but one can’t possible be too weak for seated twists. Right.

A few weeks ago someone, who’s reading here, told me:

It’s a feeling I have with you Aries-Sun-Capricorn-Moon-Guys, you change visibly and rapidly on the periphery, but the core stays untouched, unchanged. AND you put lots and lots of energy into fooling yourselves and maintaining it that way.

Oh my, was i pissed. I didn’t like it. I didn’t deny it, either. Cause deep down inside I know there is a grain of truth. So I answered: “I won’t deny it, but all I can do is to keep trying, no?“

And here I am again. Putting stuff off to deal with tomorrow, because it feels uncomfortable. But that way tomorrow never comes. It’s the fear. I’m somewhat of a sociopath, when it comes to dealing with people outside my comfort zone. I’m great, friendly, glowing and all with people, who are close to me. But the weird lady on the bus? The strange guy at the coffee house? The director’s secretary? Please. I have a sixth sense for coming upon idiots. I seem to attract them. I’m scared to go out there and find some more. So I don’t. Go out. I don’t get the work done. I postpone until it becomes really urgent and I have to go. And then, it’s complicated, it’s hysterical and draining. And I hate it even more.

Same thing with phone calls to strangers. It can take me a week worth of preparation. I will sit there with the phone in one hand, dial a number or two, my heart will start racing and I’ll think to myself, ok, let’s do it tomorrow. Which isn’t really helping. The anticipation that tomorrow I have to go through the same procedure makes me wince inside. The situation is only solved by a point, where I have left myself no choice. I have to do it. Now. And I have to bear all the consequences of postponing for so long.

But today, I still have my tomorrow.