blogging

Page Six

Mon 29 June 2009     Greenfield

Blogging has been yet another form of wandering for me. During the very worst 15 months of my life, I have wandered in many ways, and this on-line journaling is one of them. Different blogs to emphasize different aspects of my story. Blogs written to simply emote, to dump the emotion onto the page so I could carry on with another alien day. And now trying to update all these blogs, to fill in details and explanations that I left out when I was just emoting so I could keep going, keep walking streets, keep hanging around for hours in places I didn’t want to be in.

I have wandered through poetry, my own and other people’s: through languages, through telling small things about my precious, stolen animals, through rage and derision and anxiety and too many unanswered questions. I’ve done nothing but wander in all these ways since the day I lost my own life on 12 March 2008. Wandering in hope for so long that I would get some of my animals back.

here to more about meanderings and aftermaths

~~~~~~  website  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

part of the book Kaikenlainen

 

 

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nobody, nowhere

Page Five

sat 27 june 2009     greenfield

Nobody Nowhere is the title of a book by Donna Williams, a book about autism. someone recommended it to me this morning, and I’ve asked the library to get it for me. (here to my asperger’s blog)

nobody is precisely who I feel like without my animals; a bigger nobody than I’ve ever been before. on my blogspot blog, I use the name “nemo,'” which means no one in latin. after fifty-five years of having and taking care of animals, having it all torn away left me, in my own heart and mind, as nobody. and I’m going nowhere, because there’s nowhere I want to go without them.                                                             

Martin Heidegger talks about being toward death, and it’s something I’ve been doing for years, without ever knowing about Heidegger. we are all going to die, and so we are all living in the shadow of death. what the existentialists say (esp. Heidegger), is that we must choose what has meaning for us and live that meaning in this shadow of death. that’s what I was doing all my life with animals. that’s where I found my greatest sense of meaning and purpose. and neurotypicals took it all away. they did so because they couldn’t find it in themselves to let me just be the odd creature that I am with asperger’s and depression and anxiety and PTSD. couldn’t just leave me alone and let me be odd. they had to attack. they had to destroy the oddball world of my own that kept me going.

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read…    Don’t ask…   Mental hell…  

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all photos, graphics, poems and text copyright 2009-2013 by anne nakis, unless otherwise stated. all rights reserved.

 

going darker

Page Four

thurs 25 june 2009       turners falls

yesterday some belongings were returned to me  —  belongings from my own life, which ended on march 11 of 2008. belongings that are dear because they are from my own lost life, but there was pain to hold them in my hands again and know that the loved ones I shared those things with are gone for good.       

I keep saying: it’s only one person’s story. but it’s a story of cruelty and devastation, and it will have ramifications for as long as I live. I have known other people in my life with such sheer devastation stories, and they have done very poorly, have been damaged forever. some people are more sensitive than others, more breakable, and amerikans don’t seem to want to know this. then again, amerikans don’t seem to want to know aynthing that makes them feel the least bit uncomfortable.

read…    a Sehnen post.

read…    The pygmies keep dancing

 

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all photos, graphics, poems and text copyright 2009-2013 by anne nakis, unless otherwise stated. all rights reserved.

going nowhere

Page Three

mon 22 june 2009       greenfield                                                          

that’s how it feels, like going nowhere. there’s nowhere important to go anymore, except to my one friend, who is in this case a human being. nothing that I do anymore is very important. yes, I have to fill out reams of forms to apply for various subsidized housing, and that is important in a very narrow way. but for fifty-five years I had animals and took care of animals, and to me that was almost always the most important thing I did. and it made me feel important, and useful, to take care of them.

I see nothing when I look at something like, oh, tomorrow. more walking the streets an empty, mortally wounded shell. I see some kind of a housing project in the more distant future, and that’s only more darkness, because I detest most things about  housing projects. I see the same lack of interest in me by other people that there has pretty much always been, and the difficulty on my part in dealing with people (I have Asperger’s. makes me, apparently, universally unlovable). in the untouchable heart and soul I am quite dead, but the physical heart goes on beating and the lungs go on breathing, for now. I feel alive a bit only when I’m with my friend d.

misfits, oddballs have to find niches in this world in order to survive. one niche for my soul was always animals. but you need an actual place to be too, to live in as your niche. both a physical place and at least one human-being-niche to love you. unless you can buy your own house, which I couldn’t, or have family to take you in, which I didn’t, or marry that soulmate, which I never found, a misfit runs the risk of being as destroyed by the bigotries of mainstream people as I and many others have been.

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related post…   Emptiness  ~~~~~~~

a post on the new blog, Braonny. ~~

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all photos, graphics, poems and text copyright 2009-2013 by anne nakis, unless otherwise stated. all rights reserved

where to go to find someone

Page Two

fri 20 june 2009     greenfield

where to wander to today… when you’re lost, when you’re so lost that almost nothing is real to you in any meaningful way. when nothing much at all has any real substance to it that affects you in a positive way, how can you explain that to other people? how can you take them with you to that place of the soul so that they can understand? do they want to understand? my own experience is that mostly they don’t, not even the so-called therapists.

the human soul, the human psyche are complex and not so easy to categorize as the mental health profession would have us believe. how do I describe to you how lost I am? how do I get you to feel that feeling, if only for a moment, so that you can know how bleak it is? I don’t know how.

the psyche… so well guarded for me by the lazy, undereducated, box-brained buffoons of the Department of Mental Health in greenfield.

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related posts…      Emptiness  ~~  Nowhere

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all photos, graphics, poems and text copyright 2009-2013 by anne nakis, unless otherwise stated. all rights reserved

wandering

Page One

wed 17 june 2009     turners frills

                                Well, they are gone, and here must I remain,
                                This lime-tree bower my prison! I have lost
                                Beauties and feeling, such as would have been
                                Most sweet to my remembrance even when age
                                Had dimm’d mine eyes to blindness! They, meanwhile,
                                Friends, whom I never more may meet again,
                                On springy heath, along the hill-top edge,
                                Wander…..

those words issued from Samuel Coleridge, a very long time ago.

the last thing I need is a new blog. I ask myself why I’m doing this, and all I can think of is that I need a fresh start on the internet. my other blogs have dominant themes, but they all touch on the criminal business and the things a man told me and whether I was in this cursed protection, and if so, how long and how much. he will never give me these answers: I’ve tried. and they all touch on the unconscionable actions of other people too: a landlady, some cops, a gaggle of social workers both lazy and low in intelligence, and more.

I’m calling this new blog wandering because that’s what it will most likely be: wandering over thoughts, memories, emotions, events, in no nice, neat chronological order. more or less how one person experiences the worst trauma of her life and the shocking news about her life that came right afterwards. how one person deals with the brokenness left behind. and because wandering is all I really do now, both literally and figuratively. my way of life was taken, and now I just wander.

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read…   Braon…    Stolen stars

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all photos, graphics, poems and text copyright 2009-2013 by anne nakis, unless otherwise stated. all rights reserved.

 

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