Disenchantment

Have you ever really wanted something, like desperately wanted something; and seen that something become unavailable to you, slowly drift off into the fog of the unreachable; and felt intense despair, frustration, impotent rage at whatever shadowy figure you choose to hang accountability for disappointments on so you don't have to blame yourself or alternately impotent rage at yourself regardless of your own culpability; and then tried frantically to tell yourself that you did not desire that unreachable thing, that your apparent desire was to appease another or a flaw in your psyche or that the prize was not as wondrous as first imagined; even as you curl into a ball of misery and hatred and pain and heartache and despair while your self worth and small pieces of your sanity slip and spread viscously away through the grooves in the floor?

No, me neither...

Things have been generally a disaster and I am focusing on coping, and the things that I enjoy. At least, those things that I can still do, and still enjoy. Even if I have to trick myself or force myself to do them. I am trying not to feel angry and bitter at things or people who do not deserve it... or do deserve it but it just wouldn't help me. And I am trying to think about the good stuff, and not concentrate on the bad stuff. Like all things, I can get through this; and probably no less disenchanted at the world than I already am.

NZSpecFic Blogging week

It's New Zealand Speculative Fiction Blogging Week... well, the last day of it. I have had an ear infection so I only found out about it on Friday and since then I have been trying to work out what to write about. Hence the belated nature of my post.

I have never been outside of New Zealand. Not for lack of wanderlust though, just for lack of finances. I do not hold a passport as I have never needed one. However one day the world will be mine...

I have to make that clear, because that is my bias. I don't know any better (or worse).

I suspect that New Zealand is a large part of the reason for my inclination towards speculative fiction, both in my personal reading and in my writing. How can we not love fantasy, when we live in it? Compared with all I have heard of other places, our isolation brings us luxuries that other countries can only dream of. Within a half day drive of where I live, I can be on a snowy mountain top or a sun-kissed beach of golden sands or in the wind-whipped surf of the back-sanded west coast or in lush endless forest or surrounded by grasslands as far as the eye can see. There are trees, birds, living things here that exist nowhere else; the personal freedoms also. But we do not live oblivious to the rest of the world, multi-culturalism abounds. How easy then for us to dream of other worlds, other cultures, other realities, other beings. If there are fantastic creatures then here is certainly a place one would expect them.

She woke, all 4 feet and 2 inches of her, to the sounds of each member of a penny whistle band rehearsing a different tune. Her groggy thoughts edged closer to a simpler conclusion. The Puriri at the bottom of the back garden was laiden with pink fruits. The morning air was alive: with Tui, their bleached white cravats puffed against their iridescent suits; with Wax-eye, darting lime and grey streaks through the foliage; with Grey Warbler only noticeable by their song; and with Fantail looking in askance and expectation at the fruit flies hovering over the fallen plums.

She walked out into her morning symphony, thoughts on the story her mother had told her of two girls who had fooled the world into believing fairy folk lived at the bottom of their garden. On a day like this, her unruly curls shining in the dawning sun; she could feel the magic about her, she could sense revelry, she could believe that there were fairies and their like hidden within the green leafy depths before her. She tried to look out of the corners of her eyes for secretive movements, until she was distracted by the trilling cries of the birds in the Pohutukawa tree, and then by her mother calling out for tea. She dragged her feet slowly back toward the kitchen.

Against the sweet smelling lavenders, the fairy smiled, straightened it's bumble-bee costume, and launched into flight.

Silver coin

Mmmmmm such a good song. Beautiful. Wonderful sentiment. Sometimes I feel a thing and I get annoyed that there isn't a song that says that thing so that I can sing along. In those moments I want to write my own songs (as opposed to just lyrics which I do write... begrudgingly) .... a thought I step rapidly away from because how do you get it made into a song if it isn't "I kissed a girl"? I don't have the skill or talent for vocalizing my own lyrics, and don't have a stray illiterate singer to teach my words to. But this song captures a thing I feel in a way no other song does. Now I just need to find another song that talks about... another thing...

Lyrics:

Heard the rattle from the train

Sounds of a hundred people,
Maybe more
Cut through the ropes before you came
I had a dream that you were gone.

I'm in the days of throwing rocks
When I saw your picture on a silver coin
Stole a kiss through your golden locks
I had a dream that you were gone.
Woke up and you were gone

All the love has gone away
Cos I didn't have the heart or strength to say
I'll miss you when you're gone
I'll miss you when you're gone
I'll miss you when you're gone
I'll miss you when you're gone

Heard the rattle from the chains
This goddamn room it gets so small sometimes
I had a dream that you were gone
Woke up and you were gone