terrible-lies.com

-Best book you read this month-

To Kill A Mocking Bird

-Annoying traits-

Prone to blackouts when nervous and under pressure

-How do people change?-

Never, unless they suffer from trauma. There is also another way – existentialism, it goes further than be who you are, it’s be who you want to be

-Your type of lover-

Someone charismatic and at least 10 years older

-Song you’ve been listening mostly to this month-

“Wrong”, “Blasphemous Rumours”, “Somebody” – Depeche Mode

“Parallels” – As I Lay Dying

“With a thousand words to say but one” – Darkest Hour

-The best technique to talk yourself out of something-

Say no ruthlessly (not that I’m good at it)

-Why does rolling a rock up a hill every day make you a happy person?-

The only truth behind this is to have a purpose in life, to make yourself a purpose and defeat absurdity.

-Latest disappointment-

PiL’s cancelation of the German tour

-What if Prince Charming proposed to you?-

Ask me again in ten years

-Your favourite love song in the world-

Truly madly deeply

-Earliest childhood memory-

The umbilical cord, the medical clamp applied was light blue

-Actors to play your fictional characters-

Cillian Murphy, Ethan Hawke, Natalie Portman

-What is fiction?-

My metamorphosis in real life

-What is barbaric-

A pigeon picking at chicken wing or eating fattening food in front of a hot dude

-Latest surprise-

It never dawned on me before how right it feels to simply be yourself in front of people who actually understand and listen to you. Those who don’t, don’t even deserve to hear a word out of your mouth

-Are you hypocritical?-

No, just a liar using the truth as a tool to portray the beauty of paradox and contradiction

-Is it easy to let go?-

Sometimes, but not if it’s hate and anger. Ask Hades.

-Are you a caring person-

I am not a caring person but no one believes me. They say “You do care, otherwise you wouldn’t do this and that.” But the truth is I do this and that for that person because he or she deserves it and this is part of my good will, but on the very inside of me I don’t give a toss and I’m glad once it’s been done with, so I can deal with my own things again.

-Something mean you did in the last couple of months-

Laughing about someone with down syndrome being in love

-Who knows you best?-

I.R.

-Your conclusion-

If I call Zeus a manwhore will he punish me by making me open Chinese boxes for the rest of my life with no final box inside those boxes???



–

Thanks D.

PiL were supposed to play in Hamburg today. Now I am playing sadly with Johnny’s shark and wonder whether he would have liked it at all. It’s an angry shark showing teeth – it’s a baby ludovician about to eat my memory. Go ahead. If memories go, the same feelings remain; you just cannot comprehend. It’s similar to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I am taking the shark with me when I go.

I am being tackled by the topic heteronomy. This term has the teeth of a shark. If it wasn’t a friend mentioning it to me just now, I wouldn’t even notice my problem. I tend to do things in favour of other people, no matter whether I care about them or not. But anyhow, I’d like to draw attention to the people that I do not care about, who have been out of my life for too long and suddenly reoccur in my presence and ask to meet up. I’m already giving up on those who used to mean something, those who have suddenly turned their back on me without explanation and those who after a one night stand or a simple kiss have eliminated me from their lives. Why was I hanging on to friendship even though it was obvious that nothing would ever be the same again? I hate friendship as a topic and I hate people telling me what a friend is. It reminds me of Sheldon Cooper trying to search for an appropriate answer in a children’s book for “What is a friend and how do I make friends?” Am I so detached now that I have lost the connection to human closeness? Or am I just picky as hell when it comes to friends that I don’t know how to get rid of the ones who are extremely, unbelievably persistent and unconsciously use heteronomy to make me feel guilty in my fucking head? Or am I a loner, a misanthrope or simply Paula in self denial?

Fuck, you piss me off. I hate the way you make me feel. I love you for being so kind for wanting to catch up with me – the fact of you being happy to see me again and I am happy to see you, but I don’t want anything more than just a hello. Right now, a simple hello suffices. I can’t take anything more than a simple hello. I just don’t care about you but I am a coward when it comes to saying it to your smiley face, because….because you are a good person.

I guess in the end I always choose to struggle and I seem to love dilemmas that serve smiley faces as dessert, which ultimately cause guilty fucking conscience. I am selfish in my own crazy way and I wish everyone could see that, instead of this filtered friendliness that I seem to be scattering on these umm… people. I hardly know friendliness, but the heteronomy that you unconsciously apply on me is giving me fucking rashes and I keep scratching so hard until I bleed!

What’s happening anyway? I just got a blackout when choosing my current favourite Depeche Mode song. Ah right, “friends” or “non-friends” I was talking about. There’s no need to wonder whether you’re swimming with the duck or with the shark … because I could feed you all to the shark if I wanted – in my book anyway. I guess now I understand why people hesitate to trust me. You can trust me! No matter if we’re friends or not. Just so you know the shark’s after me, not you. So trust me, idiot.

I don’t even think my sister trusts me. It makes me feel unworthy of knowing anything. Right now there are about three people who fully trust me and tell me things in detail and all of them are pen friends. There is something about writing, eh? For all the bad talkers.

I’ve been feeling so wrong in the last three or eight years. And even with most of the things being fucked up wrong now, I feel confident in saying NO. NO, I don’t want. NO, I ain’t got time. NO I can’t be bothered.

And YES, keep your secrets and privacy to yourself, you boring little fuck. I won’t ever ask again.
As if I was ever going to mindfuck you with heteronomy.

I lie and lie and people will never know!

I had a terrible nightmare in which men and women got killed or to be more specific – slaughtered. The murderers used weapons which don’t even yet exist.  Or maybe they do and I just don’t know. Those were big cast iron tubes with a handle on the one end and God knows what was in the other.  I call it the “evil” end. You just place the evil end on one’s stomach and the tube would dig a deep hole, shoot or slice that person open. There was a woman to be sentenced to death. She was naked and they placed the tube on her vagina. Her lower stomach was all bloody. Before she died, she tongue-kissed the person next to her, whoever that was, as though enjoying it. Basically everyone was sentenced to death, but there was something special about that woman, because she reminded me of this fictional character that I created three years ago.

After that dream I woke up in the middle of the night and scribbled something onto paper:
“I: This is the dream of…
He I don’t come here often”

Hell knows what that means. I don’t even remember talking to anyone in that dream. And I don’t quite remember writing it. I only remember going to bed angry and listening to Blasphemous Rumours on repeat.

I wonder what goes on in the mind of a gynecologist; what his wife thinks and whether he has daughters and whether the daughters go to their father. He told me about having a son, but I didn’t want to ask any further questions.
There is this terrible pain my left hand; it hurts most whenever I type ‘a’ or ‘q’. My closest friend tells me to look after myself and to care about myself instead of worrying about anything else, even if it’s my family who needs the attention. This advice is to prevent me from falling apart he says. I know he is right, but why would I let my family down? – Because I know I have no strength to support them? I guess so.  It is not easy to move on when you know you’re leaving something behind; something which is yet undone. But in this case…
I’m not as emotional as you think; it’s just wishful thinking and my habit of romanticizing things, despite of my inability to handle romanticism. I can only hope to have someone in future who is emotionally stable. A clash of individual emotions is war and that’s why people say love’s a battlefield, but it’s not, it’s simply black and white penetrating each other. And throughout their lives they’ll learn to deal with it and to accept it. All this grey area is a product of my perception; my perception of people and their personalities. I see all the misunderstandings, all origin of fights and wonder whether it’d be easier to simply vote a party to belong to instead of being ostracized by everyone because you are apparently inaccessible. Everyone has his/her own idea of what I represent and I’m glad to know that they are all wrong.

I want those I don’t want, those I wouldn’t usually go for, because they always treat me better than anyone else. Do you know what I mean? But then it’s the charisma which seduces me with its bright eyes and this hidden smile around its lips. It’s the spark which this indescribable chemical reaction evokes, but this kind of charisma only slumbers in the spirit of the dead and the non-existent or the taken ones. This is what it feels like when you’re in love and you don’t know who that is. It might also be mere illusion, loneliness or the naivety of a romanticist.
My hand feels very sore…

In the favour of your own irony
Choosing the comfort of the other
Leads you astray towards villainy
Which you inflict on your mother

Cry for the velvet skin to touch
This innocent stomach of life
Which gives you oh so much
Meaning and tasks to stay alive

Stroke the tired hands of motherhood
At a distance within arms length
Closer and closer into the woods
I only have a little left of strength

Paula Cheung 2010 (c)

Lit a cigarette again on a quiet lonely morning on my way home. The town was in a sound sleep, except for the taxis driving the drunk back home with 100 km/h on the empty main road. The Pall Mall gave me a foretaste of what is going to come next in my life, though it tasted good, which only means I was sad and conscious enough, relaxed enough to breathe properly and forgiving enough to smile at my hometown. My hometown is only wonderful when everyone is in a sound sleep, so I can have its goddamn attention all to myself. If you know what it is like feeling sober without having drunk before, without having done drugs before or without having had anger outbreaks before – and how simply the power of a little town’s tranquility, the smell of the morning sun and the taste of a Pall Mall, you’ll  most likely know what I am talking about. The jaded subconscious climbs up on the shoulders of your tiredness for a moment, though without bad intention – truce and peace between good and evil evoke a string of wakefulness and all you do is walk slowly with confidence and determination.  The way it should be. Moments like these often last up to 3 minutes only. Cherish and breathe those moments when you encounter them please. Think about lonely riders like Kerouac, Böll and Thoreau and how they had made sweet love to those moments; those moments which are only granted when the balance of the mind is right, when the heart beat is the same as Depeche Mode’s intro in the song “Somebody”. If they say free will and freedom are non-existent, you’ll know that they only lack of imagination, the never-ending road in our head surprises us each day, whenever we decide to walk this road. Some people are just too lazy to walk, too apathetic to explore or too scared to risk their existing stability; scared of losing track and scared of being alone. I just can’t deal with them. They stop in the middle of the road, build a house at the side and invite me in. The house feels warm, but it’s indescribably foreign and wrong in so many ways like the large full stop they use as a door mat indicating that this is where it all ends. But everything is ok, because they are smiling, because they are holding hands and because they are kissing. It’s only me who decides to continue exploring the road. I’m in search of a machine gun.

It feels like last week consisted of 8 days. Damn, that’s a Beatles song or at least close to being a Beatles song. Even though I’m uncontrollably tired right now, I need to put this down and have it done with. The week’s been terrible and it includes today as well (that’s what I meant with 8 days). All this reminds me of a never-ending routine, a reoccurring nightmare, which are feeding the demon of wrath and releasing the brake I thought I had control over. But I seem to be tearing up each string in my body whenever I try to grab hold of what’s left of my patience.
I don’t really want to go into detail in regard to my work life. There is nothing new, there’s nothing but routine. Of course it’s one of the main issues that are driving me mad, but it’s also people. A day off is a day I spend alone, concentrating on my things. A day meeting up with a friend is like going to work, but you are more relaxed. Now tell me what kind of an arsehole would say things like that? That’s just me, I guess.
I went to my friend’s wedding last Saturday. I didn’t intend to go, but she’s one of those friends I didn’t want to lie to. We met up weeks before her wedding, so that I could explain my difficulties to her. I have a wedding phobia, even though I’d never been to one in my entire life. I already knew that I wouldn’t like the atmosphere, the people, the music, the songs they sing in the church, etc. Later I realized that it wasn’t the church I was dreading (actually I like old churches, except they make me feel itchy sometimes), but the party afterwards. We arrived at a hotel and I knew nobody. I’m no good at making first approaches to people and of course my friend was busy socializing with her side of the family. However, she noticed me standing there on my own. Standing alone in the crowd is the most terrible thing ever and it had brought up bad, bad memories from over 15 years ago when I was still in school. So firstly I was standing there on my own, pretending I was observing the ducks in the lake. After noticing, she had sent some of her friends towards me, which was a good thing, because otherwise I would’ve been standing and sitting on my own for over 6 hours. Something like that happened to me before, numerous times, which is why I don’t go to parties, wedding parties, birthday parties, etc. And people just don’t fucking understand. I don’t drink! (But I would smoke pot.) At least she knows me and she knew that I wouldn’t have made the first step to approach people and I’m glad that she’d noticed me at all at her wedding. I still wish I had lied to her and said I didn’t have time. I had been dreading the wedding for months and nonetheless I agreed and went. This is the first wedding and the last of a friend’s wedding. I only went, because I never been and because I wanted to make the effort to overcome myself just that one time. Her argument was “How would you know what weddings are like, if you have never been to one?” That was when I gave in. (She always wins in arguments.) Maybe I do regret for having gone, but I don’t regret having seen her happy face, her tears when her husband made his speech about how much he loved her. But for some selfish reasons I could’ve done without all that. It didn’t interest me and by being present at the wedding and the after show party, I felt miles away. I couldn’t share that happiness, because it appeared so foreign. I hadn’t had one single conversation with my friend on that day; I just didn’t dare approaching her like a cockroach on her big day. We only smiled at each other, complimented on each other’s dresses and talked about how nice the food was.
I know why I didn’t (want to) catch the bridal flowers. That was because I was with no partner. The woman who caught them had to get  on stage and dance with her partner alongside with bride and groom. How fucking ludicrous and embarrassing is that? Well, it didn’t look embarrassing when they did. I never knew what had happened to the connection between her and me; she’s still the same person but yet so distant because she’s so many steps ahead of me and I won’t ever allow myself to be where she is now. Why is not important.
All I admit is my selfish point of view, the dread of being in the midst of people that I don’t know, having to overcome my social anxiety disorder, and force myself towards small talk, and then ending up hating myself for it, because I feel like wasting time.
When I was leaving her party she hugged me goodbye and said “Looks like you have overcome your wedding phobia!”
I didn’t know what to say upon that, I didn’t want to elaborate by saying “It’s not a wedding phobia, but something else.” I didn’t want to talk about me, since I had been talking about the green evening dress that I was wearing just to annoy her. (She hates green.) It wasn’t about me and I simply just wanted to go home.

I didn’t sleep very well that night. I can’t remember why. It has been two days now. I just don’t remember ok. Sunday was bad, because I had two telephone calls to make. And if there’s one thing I hate most it’s talking on the phone; I can’t stress that enough. Each call is like a big task. The talks are so down to earth and repetitive, I can’t stand it anymore.
A friend of mine wrote in an email the other day saying “You speak so much sense, Paula!”
That is not true, I speak nothing at all. I write. So if you’d like to put it this way: I write much sense or at least I try.
I must be such an arsehole when placing friends to the work area. I’m meeting a friend this week on a day off, but it’s not a day off anymore to me. A day off is going to the library, locking myself up in my room and simply be alone, writing and reading about all my selfish self. If I told you, I’m doing this for somebody; you wouldn’t believe me anyway, so I won’t even bother to explain.

All I know is that I can’t take it anymore. I can’t control this impatience, anger and bitterness anymore. When trying to make people happy, I either don’t get anything in return or I realize I don’t want what they have to give, because it’s already familiar and therefore no use to me. How often has it occurred to me that I heartlessly give it all away again once received? It’s not easy to say things like “I don’t want you”, “I don’t want your kindness”, and “you can’t give me what interests me”.  Now you might say I am unable to appreciate gifts. You have no idea that one of my greatest traits is sensing gratitude, I might even be more grateful than you, you’ll never know.  I appreciate reliability, but nowadays people don’t appreciate it, but exploit it and that’s something I would never do, no matter how self-centered I can be. I can be cold-hearted but I would never use people for my own advantage, which, I guess, is why I never ask for help.

And there will be friends who will walk away angrily and some will smile at me understandingly, but I won’t care to explain.

Früher habe ich alles gemacht, und immer rechtzeitig. Alle Hausaufgaben, jeden Gefallen, jeden Brief beantwortet, alle Termine eingehalten, immer mein Wort gehalten, immer Bescheid gegeben, immer zurückgerufen, immer zurückgesimst und immer so getan als würde mich alles interessieren.

Jetzt… habe ich keine Lust mehr.

Außerdem wird Zuverlässigkeit heutzutage nicht geschätzt, sondern ausgenutzt. Interessiert mich aber nicht mehr.

Natürlich passiert das nicht immer, aber halt viel zu oft. Ich kriege auch keine Antwort, wenn ich mich für Dinge entschuldige, wo ich eigentlich keine Schuld habe, sondern nur Gewissensbisse. Wozu die Mühe?

Was ich noch übrig habe ist Dankbarkeit…wenn ihr noch wisst, was es ist.

Ob es einen Grund gibt, warum dies auf Deutsch geschrieben wird? Was weiß ich?! Was interessiert euch das bzw. mich?!

Vielleicht krieche ich eines Tages einfach so davon  ohne, dass ihr es bemerkt. Wer weiß, vielleicht ist es sogar besser so. Wenn ich mich verabschieden wollte, müsste ich ja hunderte von Anrufen machen. Das kostet zu viel Mühe.

Wenn ich egoistisch bin, schön, wird auch langsam Zeit.

Ich habe zu tun.

Thanks to this week in the library, writing up to 4 hours each day has re-improved my attention span. I’m very impressed, I am just impressed  with the fact that I seem to be able to recognize this terrible, terrible bird outside my house. It tweets the same old song nearby my room in the morning and again the same song in the afternoon, but elsewhere in the neighborhood – what an attention seeking slag. And I always thought exotic birds were narcissists. Unbelievable.

I just finished reading Imperial Bedrooms and it’s the first book since probably 2007 that has brought back my fluency in English (yes I was sort of reading out loud). Or maybe Clay was speaking through me, I don’t know. All accents have gone, leaving me with a boring, dry Standard English. A couple of words, such as “hungry”, “hurry” or “curry” are still pronounced with a Northern British accent. I can’t help it.
I think I have been very rude to my friends. Those who take it seriously just don’t understand me and never will. I don’t mind them going actually, because I’m no good for them. I’m simply not someone who would give you a ring when feeling bored, but that’s because I NEVER feel bored and I can’t stand people who get uhh, bored! That says a lot about them and their lack of creativity. It’s pathetic and it BORES me. Who are you?! My ex or what?! I have more important things to do than watching YOU being BORED. Ok, there are days where you might feel apathetic and lack of motivation – then fucking go back to bed or even better: Go for a run!

Fuck, when will this take an end? Why, why do I have to repeat myself so often?
I am tired and I lack of motivation right now and do you know why? I’ve spent four hours in the library writing and three hours finishing Imperial Bedrooms which I started yesterday evening. Then I went for a 30 minute run and yes, I still feel active, just not in work mode.
And did I mention I’m writing a blog right now?
Certain people just don’t know and I have no clue how to explain it to them without making them feel ostracized or neglected. I’m starting to hate, hate, HATE this guilty conscience that I feel, not just towards my friends, but also towards myself. I can’t just say “Please, understand me, please understand me, but I’m not going to explain.”
My mobile will be off most of the time now and phone will remain unplugged for as long as I wish. How do you like them apples? I love you still, but I can also hate you if you don’t grant me free space. However, I know you’re not like that. I know you care, and I know you’d support me. Now that’s an understanding friend.
Oh God, sometimes I sound so patronizing and I don’t mean to! You don’t have to forgive me, just take it as it is or overlook.
Paula likes the truth, but lies a lot too.

SHUT UP! Why is everyone around me complaining so much! SHUT UP!