Where's the line between thinking you love someone because of how they make you feel, what they do for you, and actually loving someone?

I was looking back over Jared's process diary because I felt like it and found an entry I don't think I had read before in whihc I was described as "the elegant and ever tasteful Kristina". Ha! Certainly an odd thing to say, especially at that point when we had hardly talked at all. So either it is all lies, or an unexpected impression. And if genuine, I wonder how it has evolved until now.
I'm in a mood of sorts. Looking for fantasy and niceness and ... something.
I'm wanting someone to sign in that is good to type to. I want Bob to because I want to ask her something.
Blah di blah blah blah.
Talking to someone who i thought would be Kobes but perhaps isn't. Someone claiming to be a stalker. Whoever they are, they're probably off their damn face. But they knew my name. Who could it be? but I wanted to joke around anyway because I want a distraction and I'm lonely and bored. I think I would like to be out partying it up and having lots of fun with me friends. Oh well. This will have to do.
Something something. This is really worthwhile typing.
I'm bored. Ha! What a silly girl I am. Sigh.
So, something entertaining, even funny, ay. .... Nope, nothing. Boring boring. All I ever have to write is serious stuff, either depressed-like or happy-like, but mostly the former, I guess.
I want to go outside, but I fear I can't. That so should not be a reason.
Alana is watchign the Lizzie Maguire Movie. Woot for her.
"I am not what I am" Shakespeare is so eternal. Don't we all love him.
I don't like him all that much. There are far better things out there for me to read.
I finished going through and 'deconstructing' Catcher in the Rye. I didn't get it at all the first time, but this time I did, with a little help from research. The first time I read it I could identify with good old Holden Caulfield in some ways, I agreed with some things he thought, sympasthised with others, and completely missed the point. Then I decided that i had been very much ostracising myself from society by objecting to everything, adopted as a sort of anthem a song by Tori Amos that goes "when I come to terms, to terms with this, when I come to terms with this. When I come to terms, to terms with this, my world will change for me", and decided to change my view and accept and enjoy society. So the second time I read it I noticed similar thinking between Holden and previous me and actually got the point. According to J. D. Salinger I used to be incredibly immature. Remember, just because one person believes something doesn't make it true. That's something I've been having to remind myself lately. I always sort of thought that if something was written and all it must be true. I knew it wasn't, but you know. Jared has helped me with that, because I wanted to purge myself of the incredibly lame amount of affect he had on me, thinking that what he thought was what I should think and all. It took being practically alone in a foreign country to find myself in that way (and many others which I am losing now. It was great, but gone). Yeah.
I did develop quite a sense of self over there towrads the end. In a way. I don't know.
Jared as been the biggest case of letting other poeple under my skin too much to date, but other people have been nearish. Like my friends in general. And Bob. And Lenny. These are things that I oddly hardly seem to remember now.
Bob and Jared used to make me hate myself. Used to meaning before the holidays. Make me hate myself meaning make me make myself see myself through my interpretation of their eyes. but that has been lessened by not being so affected in that way and by listening to what I come out with and thinking more about it. Because I used to say shit I didn't mean as if it were my opinion when it wasn't and it would sound terrible and I would hate myself and this is very much rambling on and a nearing nonsensical way. Oh well.
In conclusion, I'm disclosing some things in a cop-out kind of way. I hope no one hates me. I almost hate myself. Ha! Nah, not really, it's just lame. I want friends! Hahahahahahaha. Sad weird little me. Ach, I should stop now. Sorry I don't say these things actually to poeple. I don't know. Apologising just came to mind. I'm so lost. Woveda.
Peace out. Love you all, even though I'm weird. Night night :) Love!

I might just lay here and dream my life away

The full moon casts a light, soft but bright, on all beneath it it in a world of night.
Given from the sun as an offering whilst he cannot be around, it is different to that light of the day. Taken into the moon and reflected as soft silvery white mist, the city thus takes on an entirely different quality, one of dreams and stardust and magic.
The moon is reflected in the eye of one who gazes to it for answers to unknown questions. This one is a stranger to the night, until now a follower of the day. But she has tired of the harsh light, the heat of the sun, and turns to a new companion for new experience, new life, hoping that here she may find something...
A tiny flash of light falls from a face of soft white and shatters as it hits the ground. Another and another until there is a patch of tear-stained ground beneath a head hung low, cradled in two hands, that has lost something never again to be found...
In a mirror shines the silver round eye of the night. A twisted face scorns the light. Hands gripping, pulling at hair. Mad with despair, an object is flung, a smash is heard, a tinkle of glass, and silence. Silence, but for the whimper as of a child. Seven years bad luck, and a million eyes on the ground...

There, an attempt at something that could be far better given more time. And perhaps should be a poem.
Love to you all :)

Here with my eyes closed missing the circus that goes by

You know, I realised that my telling poeple certain things because of a belief in honesty (for example, Kobes) perhaps is actually just a facade for my true intent: reaching out to poeple, looking for a friend. That way I can pretend to expect rejection but not care so much as if I were just rejected in a normal friend way; and I don't need to be completely honest with them; I'm impatient, wanting immediate results; and I may hopefully draw them in with how I'm so special and different; and I have a justification; and I can mask my fear in something else.
An over analysis, I'm sure.
I guess there are always other motives like that behind things. But I seem to think it's important at the moment to strip away until I find my true self. But hidden in amongst all the trying to get rid of lies is probably just more lies.
Blah blah blah. I think too much. So basically it's all lies, although that word perhaps has connotations which are too harsh.
"I was at once simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life."
I have a big feeling of inadequecy, whilst simultaneously hving this 'superiority complex'. Crazy crazy people. I swear, it's so very like I have multiple personalities in a way; how can I think so many contradictory things?
This afternoon I saw Kobes and was shaken by it more then I have been in a while.
Then I went into an analysing myself thing, which developed into such a sadness at the renewed apprehension of the sense of longing and loss that pervades all existence. All. It lurks in memory, in the silence, in the spaces in between. We are dictated by this longing, very often manifesting itself in nostalgia. Nostalgia, when all we want is fulfillment in the present. Life is so much just the whispy hours of a dream, there, and then at once gone, faded into the misty, soft focus realms of what once was and will never be again. A vague feeling, the echo of a thought, a look, a word, a glimpse of a face, or the way a body moves. Memory. Animating the idle hours in pain, grief, warmth, love, loss.
Things seem so endless, so pointless.
But even while I was walking to work, feeling such loss, my awareness of the beauty of nature about me (and the coldness of the buldings) was heightened, and I was able to smile slightly. And it gradually faded from being all doom and gloom to having some hope, at least in a real beauty.
So there.
Friends are my favourite distraction at the moment. They do cause me grief sometimes. Or rather, I cause myself grief over them. Friends are a pretty recent discovery of mine. I always wanted them, of course, but never really had them. I have them more now than ever before in my loner life. Still not quite there, but that's me. Afraid little me.
I'm losing track of what I'm typing now.
Perhaps people are learning more about me than they ever thought here. Not that many poeple read it.
I don't know. Losing myself.
Goodnight to you all :) Love to you.

It's funny; one day I'll be dominated by a particular thought or idea or whatever that seems it will continue forever, the next day will be a transition, and the following it will start again with something new. Sometimes the cycle is quicker than that, other times slower but feels quicker. But it always seems to lead me back to nothing. Not a good nothing, but a this is all worthless nothing.
Went and saw a year twelve girl's installation this afternoon. It was beautiful. Fragments, misty memories, childhood.
It left me with such a nothingness, a bad sort of nothingness, and thus furthered some thinking that I have been doing today.
Maybe I'm trying to be somebody I'm not.
Perhaps that's the reason that all my ideas for art or writing or whatever are completely unoriginal in any way, because they're somebody else's that I'm trying to steal to give my life meaning. Maybe that's why things don't feel like they fit, I don't seem to fit into my world as I am, only as I try to be. And that somebody I'm trying to be is influenced consciously a lot at the moment by a whole group of ideas that sort of revolve around my perception of Jared (a confession!).
Or maybe it just doesn't properly fit because it's not what I'm used to. Because it seems that nothing of what anyone could call substance seems to really fit. But then that's what my life up until very recently has been, so I don't know.
So perhaps I should still go with it, after all everything is important and creates who we are, and it's just a matter of adjustment.
On another matter, I don't see how anything can be not selfish. I guess that makes me a very selfish person. But whatever one does has to be for the self in some way, surely? But maybe I just turn around and manipulate that, almost justifying my selfishness.
And it makes me think that perhaps I can never really love, in the way that poeple say love should be. Because I'm just too selfish.
But surely anyone must like someone for the feeling they give them?
I hope I'm wrong though. It's a scarey thought that perhaps I could never really love...
I have to go now.
See you all some time.
And love (whatever that is) to you all.

I awoke early this morning.
I lay there tossing and turning, as the saying goes, for a time ("thought I'd be friends with time"). Something was not quite right, as such. I was thinking, perhaps stressing, about I'm not sure what (although I discovered something good: I don't think I'd been grinding my teeth). My insticts have been crazy lately. They were better for a while, but they have been very recently not so great. Or rather, they were fine, I've just been having trouble listening. I now can hardly use my mind at all without crushing instincts and feelings, but I does adhere to them more. So, as I was typing, I felt really odd.
Eventually I arose from my warm bed, dressed, and went outside to find the answers in the "Goddess" (for such was my line of thinking because of recent readings) or in nature, and the spirit (there was also another motive here, to do with mixed up insticts, whihc I choose not to go into).
I took off my shoes to feel the Earth. I walked out the front. I decided to take those little things- bits of wood cut in odd curvy shapes- that had been left on the fence, along with a navy blue scarf, on Saturday night, and see if I could fit them together.
After a little bit of playing I became paranoid that they might be some sort of "black magic" trap, like something Necronmocronicron (I don't actually remember the proper word) ish. So I threw them away and hoped I wasn't cursed. It makes perfect sense in the world of movies.
I realised I was sitting next to the council cleanup pile, like the rubbish I must obviously be.
But here is my original intention.
In the East was the dawn, confined to its srtip of space for now because of the cloudcover. Beautiful glowing orange to yellow, fading, changing, growing.
And to the East was the night. The Moon was still visible through the clouds, and below them was the dark sky.
Torn between night and day, I could not choose which to stay with, for I could not have both at once. Each beautiful, which it's own connotations- new life, hope, rest, peace, the Goddess, the God. I could not choose. I thought there might be a feeling drawing me towards night, but then the thought that sunrise equals hope. That is what comes of reading too much of contradicting beliefs and finding it hard to trust your own self.
Of course, the night was receeding to a memory as the Sun was creeping up, gradually lighting the night by infintitesimal degrees, until you realise the clouds have become a glowing pinky-orange; and then all night is gone and it is day, so what does it matter now?
Good day to you all.

Hello hello.
www.postsecret.blogspot.com
After I read through the secrets there, I scroll through and stop randomly and take whichever secret I stop at to be some sort of a sign. That is if I think it has nothing to do with me or I don't like it, that is.
I've recently been using tarot cards - just randomly picking one out - sometimes. My cards for the moment are the three of cups - the feminine bringing emotional growth, love, fulfillment in a relationship, sensitivity and capacity for giving means that love and frienship will light the future, victorious conclusion to a matter, creative ability bringing joyous rewards; the nine of cups- the wish card, good things coming; the hanged man- denoting some sort of turning around, a descision or sacrifice that will ultimately be good; and temperance- purification of the soul, balance, peace, harmony. With the hanged man and temperance together it may denote hypocrisy or indecision through false promises.
There we have it. All very general and can be taken however one wishes. I still like tarot cards, though, because perhaps there is some kind of real thingys in them, if only because cards and meanings are sunconsciously picked because you like them. The give me hope and wisdom and stuff sometimes, as not real as they may be. Just like the postsecret thing.
My sister and her friend are watching Saw, which I can hear but am trying it ignore (ha, it rhymes!) quite successfully. I don't like scarey movies. They make me paranoid.
The world is a beautiful place, even with mean things. It's nice, and things always turn out well, in my experience (which, of course, is very extensive).
Best wishes to you all!

Why should I be bound to thee,

O my lovely mirtle tree?

Love, free love, cannot be bound

To any tree that grows upon the ground.

-

O, how sick and weary I

Underneath my mirtle lie,

Like to dung upon the ground

Underneath my mirtle bound.

-

Oft my mirtle sigh'd in vain

To behold my heavy chain

Oft my father saw us sigh,

And laugh'd at our simplicity.

-

So I smote him and his gore

Stain'd the roots my mirtle bore.

But the time of youth is fled,

And grey hairs are on my head.

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day, you fritter and waste the hours in an off hand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town, waiting for someone or something to show you the way
Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain, you are young and life is long and there is time to kill today
And then the one day you find ten years have got behind you, no one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun
And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking, racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in the relative way but you're older, shorter of breath and one day closer to death
Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time; plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desparation in the English way - the time is gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say

To see a world in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour.

To see a world in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour.

To see a world in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour.

To see a world in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour.

Sometimes...

Salutations to all!
Dinner with more of Jeff's family was had tonight. It was alright. Not that exiting, but not that bad either. I guess because of my frame of mind about it.
I had things I wanted to say but there gone so this is probably a pretty pointless post. All my thoughts have been lost.
I should go to bed, yet this is the time of night where I usually succumb to sensible thoughts, but really feel like staying up and...I don't know. pondering, I guess. The night is special. It's different to the day. People aren't around doing peopley things, and there is darkness and the stars and the Moon. There's just a whole different feeling to me. During the day I feel like I should be doing something, but at night I can easily just do nothing, that is if I first decide to get past the part about thinking I should sleep. It's a nice time. Need to sleep be damned!
Sometimes... This word that pops to mind every now and then promising something to come after it - a poem, prose, a song; whatever. But whatever it is it never comes. It just fades off into thoughts that are like the world seen through teary eyes, or an impressionist painting. Perhaps some day something brilliant will come of it, something that has been building up my whole life. Who knows.
You know, I am so conflicted on the value of music. I feel bad when I just listen to music, feel like I should be doing something 'constructive', or instead of losing myself in a 'fantasy' land be losing myself in the 'real' world around me. It's the same with literature and films and stuff as well. But whose to say they're not all equally valuable. It just feels that I'm lying to myself and trying to create a world that does not exist.
But I like music so. And all those other things. It invokes whatever feelings it does and make my life feel so much more rich and complete. Of course, it's a vicious cycle. Like a drug. You like the feeling so you want more and more and you become like my sister Alana, like those many out there, who constantly need it to entertain them and brighten up their reality.
So it seems like it's all fake. But I guess it's not. I don't know.
Writing is similar. I feel I should be writing...perfectly. Having a point, something to say, and expressing feelings and 'reality' perfectly otherwise I should not, I am just lying to myself and losing myself in falsities. That's why I don't write much. Or do much other art stuff, for that matter.
I'm sort of losing track of myself here. I'm not sure this all makes much sense. To some (i.e. Kobes) nothing I say seems to make sense. And by say I mean type. Lame.
I don't know.
I hope Krister and Bob have a fun as hell day!
Goodnight all. Not that 'all' is really anybody. But I feel like I'm talking to people in a way. Which is not really good. Ah well. To sleep I say! Perhaps. Ach, I'm a confused person!
Anywho. Love and best wishes fly in the directions of everyone I know, and don't know. Lots of love.
Fare thee well.

'Ello 'ello!
Thanks to Bob for posting a wonderful comment!
Um, yeah. Yesterday we went to Versailles, which is crazily huge. It's insane. At night we went to visit some of Jeff's rellies, which was better than expected. I'm really not good at those things - I just sit there and freeze up and act all awkward. But I met a nice girl who I thought was my age but was actually twenty-one. Shiznit! We stuck around together for much of the night. She was great for telling what and what not the eat, but unfortunately I did not see her before eating frozen mustard! Ach! "Very special" they said it was. I just thought it was ice cream. 'Twas humorous. I'm not very good at all this lying to be polite stuff, so I told them I didn't like it, but oh well. We spoke to a number of people who were all very nice. People are, generally, great. I pulled down an Anne Sexton book off the shelf and read a bit. Then one to the old men (I hardly remember any names because there were so many!) talked to me a bit. Seems he was quite impressed and liked me from there on. Apparently I am the only one who's ever taken that book down. Aren't I special.
Then, of course, we eventually had to leave. These things always make me sad. You meet these brilliant poeple who are in your life for such a short time, and in such a shallow way, and you never see them again. That's life, I guess. But *sigh* it does make me sad. People I just pass by so intruigue be. I wonder how they think, why they do things, why they don't do things, and if they're happy, if they're really what they seem. And I judge them. And I think they're beautiful, every one of them. And I want to hold them, get to know them. But once I know someone the magic disappears a little, as I impose my conscious and subconscious boundaries. I'm not the most patient of poeple. And I worry. But the magic still is there when I know them, I just feel I have to supress it more.
On the topic, one of the reasons I have trouble getting close to poeple as friends it I worry what they'll think, because I'm not too sure of the boundaries between friendship and relationship, so perhaps I'll cross it and it will be weird. So I just withdraw. But I'm getting better at it.
By the way, the thought just came to me, that créme brùlée is not nice. At least at the place I had it. *shudder* Makes me sick when I think about it. Just thought you all might like to know that absolutely rivetting piece of information. (Rivets! I need rivets!)
If I think about this blog too much it is somewhat detestable. Me posting my thoughts here in the hope that people will read them and like me or something, whatever my motive is. I should be actually telling poeple face to face, rather then this cop-out system. *sigh* I don't know. I do like this, it's just the thought that makes it bad. Perhaps there is reluctance in my heart too? I don't know! Gar! Things are difficult.And on that note, I think I shall go. Although I'll probably feel the urge to post more throughout the day. Sweet dreams to you all, in awakness and in sleep. And many mind hugs. Byesy byes!

Salutations

Welcome to the blog of Pastichna. Never thought I would make one, but here it is. I thought up this brilliant idea just yesterday driving back to Paris from the Normandy Beaches (hahaha, Paris pour moi), to create a blog on which to post things that I write for the sake of receiving feedback (what an original idea). Therefore, just to make it clear, please post comments. I'm not sure how well it will go considering I don't write that often at the moment and I'm not sure anyone will read it, but we'll see.

Reintroduction

Firstly, I'd like to make a special mention for Krister. I'm sorry I'm not there. Many many many hugs to you until I get back. I'm sorry.
So I've rethought my blog, and, as I should have suspected, it shall turn into not only a place to post writings, but (probably more) a place to write thoughts I wish to share. In full honesty, a place to cry out for attention and make you all think I'm so special and think in the way I do best at the moment - by using people. Of course, that is if anyone other than Krister read this. I do hope they will. Ach, I'm a terrible person.
I have so much to write - I've been thinking of things all day. I might just do a number of post with different titles as a way to organise myself. I think too much.
I would like to explain about the name Pastichna. It was given to me by Bob, and I recently decided that it is very suiting considering its derivations from the word pastiche, which is a lot of what I am, and all poeple are. It is more of a pessimistic thing, at least that's how it started out - with my fretting over no one really being real but just a product of conditioning - but it doesn't have to be.
So yeah.
I have to go. I hope you're all sleeping soundly or having fun or some such thing. Doing something that makes you happy.