Sandman and Preacher

It's on the shelf, right in front of me. And I am trying not to pick it up. Sandman, volume 1. I bought it last week, even though I know I read it before and got scared. I quit reading it after the first four volumes since I didn't like the way it was drawn but also since I read it during bedtime. Not such a smart idea.

And now it is calling out to me. "Come and get me. Read me. Enjoy me!" (Of course I am not hearing voices for real, then I would be in a psych unit.) But I think that would really be a bad idea.

I refused to buy Preacher at the same time. Good idea. It is drawn in a technique I like more but the stoy is even with less hope than Sandman... if possible...

So, tonight is about getting to bed and sleeping before going to church tomorrow. First time in a month. First time when I need to answer questions. And I will not know the answers to the questions at all. But I will try. All this is about trying to give up self control, pride and everything else that I feel are important right now. Honestly though, if you have nothing left but pride - it is hard to give it up and at the same time feel like you are worth it.

Again, I am looking into the abyss and as Nietsche said "when looking into the abyss, the abyss looks into you"... wanna come and play?

I might just wait and see what comes along...

Neil Gaiman and love

It opens your chest

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable.
It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.

You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...

You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore.

Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ’maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart.

It hurts.
Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind.
It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain.
I hate love. "
/Neil Gaiman

second trial

It is funny that the second trail, or maybe it should be called "the redoing" or "confirmation" of my experiment seems to be not too good. This together with the feelings inside make me a fragile person at the moment. Well, I do have some friends here to keep me from thinking too much about anything since we are doing things every day and every evening. Yesterday was a the first day for only pizza and a movie back home. I almost fell asleep watching "Lucky # Slewin". A decent movie, with a different story. Although I kept thinking about The usual suspects. And of course, Josh Hartnett's eyes.

So, being somewhat frail I can always go back to a behaviour I had when I was 14.. .dreaming about the future when I would meet all these good looking movie stars... Now I know I will never meet them and almost 100% sure of that I don't really want to dream about the future at all. Everything I have dreamt of so far has just gone wrong, almost everything anyway. Or maybe I should be truthfully. Everything I have dreamt of that I wanted for me> i.e. phd, post doc abroad has been, if not accomplished yet but I have the opportunity. The things that has gone quite the opposite would be wedding and love life. Yes, that being things you need to be two... I might have to face the music. I am not meant to have someone that loves me and be happy about it. It's just me and the question now becomes, will I be a halfdecent scientist with no family or friends or should I do sometyhing completely different with my life now? Maybe I should just go back home and try and find a real job - something 9-5 with not too much brainactivity and then look for an apartment where I can live the rest of my life in.

On the other hand I don't see myself living that kind of life. Maybe I can become the "auntie" of all my friends children... the strange lady who writes bad novellas and talks to herself in the small apartment with only dead plants in it? (I didn't mention that I really don't have a green finger in my entire body. I love Succiilentus since they survive when I forget to give them water every week.)

Ah well... I know where I am heading now and it is not the best solution. I should just go home and prepare for the happy sighseeing for today. Next week I am alone for real. Then I can work all day and all night so I don't need to think. Wonderful.

welcome to the next day of you new life. Thanks, feeling so much better now.

one good thing in the world of chaos and destruction

I have had to choose on which day to recieve these good results I think I would have chosen the last two days for sure. (Yes, the days have been bad - for real.) It actually gives me some kind of hope for this project (even though I have been known to be uneffective when it comes to part two: aka known as "the primers". I have promised myself though, I will order them before the weekend and due to things I will not talk about today I will have lots of time next week to stay in late at lab etc. Then I might actually get to do the pcrs and the sequencing.).

So, back to the happy project, which I probably should call "look, there is actually something happeing here" and then maybe, just maybe write some kind of draft for a manuscript... or a least summerize for the PI what has been done and what needs to be done in order to get a manuscript. Or I could always let him lead (since in this place obviously the PI plans the manuscript and what need to be done more rather than the post doc.)

There is a difference adding the compound 6 h after the bacteria rather than 24 hours. Gahh... sometimes the theory can be proven and not disproven! :) Always something... need to have a nice little graph of it though.

Then I can go home to the weekend I will never ever want to repeat. And yes, I do know that in advance. And yes, it will probably break my heart. And yes, still I will try, try, TRY and believe that it might work. But then again, Eeyore might come and visit Sunday night... we'll see what happens. But of course, as always, I must wait and see. (If I ever could have one wish it would be now and a time travel machine to the future. )

in his sleep he turns to her

"He is not very warm these days, more distant, cold... like a former friend I once new. They are slowly turning around, slowly as to not disturb one another and their own space. The wierdness is in the air. Every day she looks for the same thing. Every day she gets rejected. Not openly as in words, but rather the things not said. She longs for the old times when he could look at her and just smile and the warmth of the smile radiated into her and thawed her heart. Made her not so distant, made it possible to love. Picked up the pieces and put together the heart, once broken in so many parts, shattered for the wind. Not any more. The smile is gone from his face. It might be another smile but it is not the same. Not the same warmth, not the same care. Just a smile, with nothing behind it. She longs for the smile, the other one. She longs for feeling his heart towards her own. But nothing like that happens during the day. She waits in vane.

In the night they go to bed. Lay next to eachother. Where they before shared a kiss and a warm good night is now only silence. Nothing is as it once was. And she slowly dies inside. The light goes out. He turns away and yawns. She hears his breathing turn into sleep. Slow, long breaths. And then she stares into the night. Into the dark room. And waits. She hears his body turning, in the sleep. His arms wrap around her. His nose into her hair. She waits for the only moment, when his body gives in to something that his mind will not do. And that is what keeps her heart from breaking. That only moment. In his sleep, he turns to her. Giving her warmth. Seeking her out. Looking for her.

But he still has a ticket out. And he still does not talk about it in the morning. They wake up in silence. Things are not what they once were. Hopefully they will be. The hope still lives in her. For a while. For the next night. For the next time the arms will look for what they once loved. Once promised to love. But inside there is doubt. And the feeling of emptyness. The feeling of a heart too close to breaking. Only this time, there will be no saving. Only lost hope and lonliness.