Whenever You Feel Afraid
(14.03.2003 - 11:23 p.m.)

I might not get a chance to add any updates to my diary over the next couple of days, so I'll throw down some more thoughts now.

Apart from my folks and my bro, my relatives seem to have pretty much forgotten about my birthday this year. Having said that, I'm really not that worried about it, because you guys have been just fantastic. I mean it. I haven't exactly been chipper for a while now. I've been worried that my diary has become totally unengaging, and I've posted some crass things.

But birthday greetings have come pouring in today, and that matters to me, perhaps more than you know.

Tomorrow should be good, too. I'm going to pick up my new car in the morning then, later on, I'm meeting up with some friends and we're all going out for a meal and a few drinks. I haven't seen one of the guys in almost two years now, so I'm looking forward to catching up.

oOo oOo oOo

I can't remember whether I wrote about this already or not, but it's been in my head quite a bit of late. I apologise if I'm repeating myself.

I used to think that love would be the answer; to life, to the problems I felt I was facing, to loneliness and emptiness. But I've had reason to alter that perception dramatically lately. Because, far from being the universal answer to everything, if you're having trouble reconciling things with yourself, love can cause more problems; more loneliness and emptiness.

Please don't misunderstand; I haven't given up on love. Far from it. It's just that the truth finally hit me: You really do have to love yourself before you can love someone else.

I always used to hear that phrase, but now I think I understand it.

oOo oOo oOo

I had the pleasure of watching Pollock this evening. And it was a pleasure. If the film was at all accurate, it is obvious that Jackson Pollock was a troubled man in many ways, but I admired the way that he refused to analyse. Peculiar really, considering my tendency to over-analyse most things. But his refusal to explain was inspiring.

One part of analysis that did stick in my head though: Pollock was asked by a journalist how he thought people should analyse art. He commented that people should look at art like they look at a bed of roses. You could stand there all day, driving yourself crazy as to why those roses are the way they are, but they need no explanation.

Sometimes it's good to stop asking why.

oOo oOo oOo

Pooh said, "Rabbit is clever.
Rabbit has brain. I suppose
that's why he never understands
anything."

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