It has always been a given, that denial is bad for the situation. And it does nothing to heal only to make things worse. And as a general rule, yes I do agree. It's true and it makes sense.
But there comes a time, when you see denial in quite a different light. It's a subtle experience, this. The time when you feel the fear creeping in and you don't wanna admit it. When you get the silly notion that somehow admitting to it will only confirm it and make it all the more real. Maybe if I ignore it, it'll just go away or it'll never actually fully form and materialize.
I refer to it here in particular to thoughts and feelings. Does writing it down and/or saying it out make it all the more real and encourage it to shape and take form? Does acknowledging it means closing the door behind you and creating a point of no return per se? Does it make a difference not to then?
This of course, is denial. You fear feeling it so much that you just don't wanna admit it to yourself. So does not actually talking about it or really acknowledging it keep the door open for you step back to the safe zone before you started getting these pesky thoughts and feelings? Or is the door closed anyway the moment you realized or suspected that this is what you're thinking or feeling?
I guess it depends on who you are then. On how you function. It seems this way that denial, effective denial might actually be a skill. That if you're really good enough at it, then you might just be able to make it as if you never even thought about it in the first place and sidestep all the possible inconveniences that might occur.
Very useful skill to have, I must say. Hmmm... Interesting. *shrugs* I had hoped to be able to come to a conclusion on this, but I suppose all I have right now is a hypothesis.
The hypothesis being, if you're really that good at the art of denial then, yeah it might actually be beneficial because it'll actually serve the purpose it was meant to serve in the first place. But if you're not quite so adept at it, then the hell, it makes no difference. See, this is where it gets complicated. The moment you realized it was when you stepped past the point of no return, and no amount of supressing it or talking about it is gonna really make it go away. BUT, talking about it, discussing it freely and announcing it to the world and to yourself might give you the feeling that you're free now to expand on this feeling that you wanted nothing to do with in the first place. And that might lead to actually encouraging it. So... Acknowledgement is ok, in moderation? Oh shit.
Now that didn't really make things any simpler now did it? *smiles*
Thursday, 28 October 2010
Why Do You Make Me Feel, Like I've Got To Be Made of Steel?
I sat with Mademoiselle the other day and together, we sat in silence. She stared into the distance vaguely, only dazedly, out the sunlit window and the light fell on her face. A long tendril of smoke curled slowly upwards from her stick which she held away from her body, her arm draped over the side of the armchair.
“Why does he got to say that?” Mademoiselle demanded of me savagely, her attention fully turned on me.
“Why does he got to say that! It’s not true I tell you! I have got no emotions and that’s a fact. Why does he got to say all those lies about me?”
“It’s true, Mademoiselle,” I said slowly and evenly at her.
“It’s not true I tell you! It’s all lies! I’ve got no feelings and no one can say otherwise!” she spat in disgust.
I kept silent and held my gaze upon her.
She could see it in my eyes, in the melancholic weariness with which I surveyed her. It was a heavy glance, she didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Mademoiselle bristled with indignance. “I’ve not got it! I don’t!” she shouted at me with anger. “Why does he got to say that I do!” I could see her eyes glassing over with moisture as she shrieked at me.
“Why does he have to dig up all these things. I don’t got it, I’ve nothing to be dug up!” the tears welled up in her eyes, angry and possibly, heartbroken.
“Why does he gotta say that?” she slumped defeatedly back into the chair.
I sat in silence throughout her outburst, keeping my gaze lowered somewhere around her waist. She looked by far the most ruffled I had ever seen her. Indeed, I have never seen her with a hair out place before. She was always immaculate, impeccable, arrogance and steel. But today, she was just a little bit disconnected.
The silence lay heavy upon us and I watched a solitary tear slid down the corner of one eye, making a single passage down.
Still I held my silence. And we remained there, with the both of us sitting opposite each other across a small, round coffee table. I sat upright on my armchair, my fingers crossed in a steeple in front of my face, my elbows braced on the armrests, and she, slumped low and curled up slightly sideways in hers. Light stirs of smoke drifted upwards, almost immediately dissipating into thin air from the burnt through stick which lay forgotten on the floor.
Still I held my silence.
“Why does he got to say that?” Mademoiselle demanded of me savagely, her attention fully turned on me.
“Why does he got to say that! It’s not true I tell you! I have got no emotions and that’s a fact. Why does he got to say all those lies about me?”
“It’s true, Mademoiselle,” I said slowly and evenly at her.
“It’s not true I tell you! It’s all lies! I’ve got no feelings and no one can say otherwise!” she spat in disgust.
I kept silent and held my gaze upon her.
She could see it in my eyes, in the melancholic weariness with which I surveyed her. It was a heavy glance, she didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Mademoiselle bristled with indignance. “I’ve not got it! I don’t!” she shouted at me with anger. “Why does he got to say that I do!” I could see her eyes glassing over with moisture as she shrieked at me.
“Why does he have to dig up all these things. I don’t got it, I’ve nothing to be dug up!” the tears welled up in her eyes, angry and possibly, heartbroken.
“Why does he gotta say that?” she slumped defeatedly back into the chair.
I sat in silence throughout her outburst, keeping my gaze lowered somewhere around her waist. She looked by far the most ruffled I had ever seen her. Indeed, I have never seen her with a hair out place before. She was always immaculate, impeccable, arrogance and steel. But today, she was just a little bit disconnected.
The silence lay heavy upon us and I watched a solitary tear slid down the corner of one eye, making a single passage down.
Still I held my silence. And we remained there, with the both of us sitting opposite each other across a small, round coffee table. I sat upright on my armchair, my fingers crossed in a steeple in front of my face, my elbows braced on the armrests, and she, slumped low and curled up slightly sideways in hers. Light stirs of smoke drifted upwards, almost immediately dissipating into thin air from the burnt through stick which lay forgotten on the floor.
Still I held my silence.
Wednesday, 22 September 2010
What Andrew Said.
"He said I changed."
Mademoiselle and Missy looked at me from across the circular table.
Mademoiselle was sitting with one leg crossed over her knee, the stiletto heel of her boots jutting out pointedly as if to stab at the air. She regarded me with a sideways glance and a small smile that bordered on a slight, albeit friendly, sneer. One hand resting lightly against her chin.
Missy just looked at me earnestly, her eyes expressive, a cocktail of thoughts brought on by my announcement.
They had an opinion, these two.
"So what do you think about that?" That was Missy.
"What do I think about this..." "I think he's right." I shrugged. "I just don't know... what to make of it. You guys know what I mean."
Of course they do.
"I think you changed for the better. The old you was far too... Stupid. I mean, you were a pale shadow of what you are now! Barely even halfway there I think." Mademoiselle said.
"You had a milder nature back then," Missy bit her lip. "You're pink then when you're red now, in a manner of speaking. I mean, for the most of it anyway."
I told them that my friend had said I was better then, as a person. He said I was kinder, and basically... Kinder.
Mademoiselle snorted in disgust. Even Missy smiled.
"Granted he barely knew me, knows me. I probably put on a better social front then though. Or at least gave off a more "pushover" message."
"Look, you were less developed as an individual back then. Your world was a small town and your social circle was... Lacking. I'd say any change now is good change. You're becoming more of a person." Mademoiselle waved her hand with an air of finality.
"Well, yeah, but you did lose some things. For one, you yourself said you thought you were smarter back then." Missy interjected. "And you don't write anymore! That creative spark seems to have died out with you somewhat," she added rather pointedly.
I just nodded. They both had a point. We all develope as individuals through our experiences and exposure. I was a poor shadow of what I can be back then. Flailing to survive. Even now, I am barely half of where I can be, if I let myself. But that is another story for another day.
I scoffed. "I guess I was more interested in being 'smart' smart back then. Read more, remembered more. When I came to college I guess I had other things on my mind," I chuckled. "And that "creative spark" died when I began feeling like I was trapped in a glass jar and running out of air. Even now I am not entirely sure what really killed it. I just stopped being inspired."
"You lost your sense of wonder," Missy helped. "Back then even though you were from the inside looking out, at all the things you wanted to touch, taste and feel, you retained your sense of wonder at it all. Funny, I thought it should actually increase with you being 'out of the jar' now."
"In a way your spirit burned brighter then," Mademoiselle shrugged reluctantly. "Or maybe, without having a lampshade on it."
"Look guys, I like what I am now. It's not perfect and there're days when I feel that I wanna be somebody else as per the Pink song, but for all that I seemingly lost, let die or wither, I can't bear ever being the way I was back then. The thought literally gives me pain! I don't WANT to be the old me."
I sighed.
"I know I lost some stuff and maybe that flame, it did burn a bit brighter back then. I realize that whatever changed, it was not entirely for the better. Some were admittedly, not... improvements per se. But with every passing day, I am successively finding out just how stupid I was yesterday. So... that's at least good."
"Or just that your opinion changed". Missy added helpfully (not so helpfully). "Well I guess it can't all be good. No such perfect thing."
Mademoiselle was silent. Now THAT is unusual. We both looked at her.
She just lit a stick and exhaled leisurely, drawing it out as long as possible, before finally looking down at the both of us and saying, "You're right." "I think when you take it all together, everything included, you still come out on top. At the end of the day it's more good than bad."
"You didn't need us to come to that conclusion did you?" Mademoiselle narrowed her eyes.
I smiled. No. But having them helped.
Mademoiselle and Missy looked at me from across the circular table.
Mademoiselle was sitting with one leg crossed over her knee, the stiletto heel of her boots jutting out pointedly as if to stab at the air. She regarded me with a sideways glance and a small smile that bordered on a slight, albeit friendly, sneer. One hand resting lightly against her chin.
Missy just looked at me earnestly, her eyes expressive, a cocktail of thoughts brought on by my announcement.
They had an opinion, these two.
"So what do you think about that?" That was Missy.
"What do I think about this..." "I think he's right." I shrugged. "I just don't know... what to make of it. You guys know what I mean."
Of course they do.
"I think you changed for the better. The old you was far too... Stupid. I mean, you were a pale shadow of what you are now! Barely even halfway there I think." Mademoiselle said.
"You had a milder nature back then," Missy bit her lip. "You're pink then when you're red now, in a manner of speaking. I mean, for the most of it anyway."
I told them that my friend had said I was better then, as a person. He said I was kinder, and basically... Kinder.
Mademoiselle snorted in disgust. Even Missy smiled.
"Granted he barely knew me, knows me. I probably put on a better social front then though. Or at least gave off a more "pushover" message."
"Look, you were less developed as an individual back then. Your world was a small town and your social circle was... Lacking. I'd say any change now is good change. You're becoming more of a person." Mademoiselle waved her hand with an air of finality.
"Well, yeah, but you did lose some things. For one, you yourself said you thought you were smarter back then." Missy interjected. "And you don't write anymore! That creative spark seems to have died out with you somewhat," she added rather pointedly.
I just nodded. They both had a point. We all develope as individuals through our experiences and exposure. I was a poor shadow of what I can be back then. Flailing to survive. Even now, I am barely half of where I can be, if I let myself. But that is another story for another day.
I scoffed. "I guess I was more interested in being 'smart' smart back then. Read more, remembered more. When I came to college I guess I had other things on my mind," I chuckled. "And that "creative spark" died when I began feeling like I was trapped in a glass jar and running out of air. Even now I am not entirely sure what really killed it. I just stopped being inspired."
"You lost your sense of wonder," Missy helped. "Back then even though you were from the inside looking out, at all the things you wanted to touch, taste and feel, you retained your sense of wonder at it all. Funny, I thought it should actually increase with you being 'out of the jar' now."
"In a way your spirit burned brighter then," Mademoiselle shrugged reluctantly. "Or maybe, without having a lampshade on it."
"Look guys, I like what I am now. It's not perfect and there're days when I feel that I wanna be somebody else as per the Pink song, but for all that I seemingly lost, let die or wither, I can't bear ever being the way I was back then. The thought literally gives me pain! I don't WANT to be the old me."
I sighed.
"I know I lost some stuff and maybe that flame, it did burn a bit brighter back then. I realize that whatever changed, it was not entirely for the better. Some were admittedly, not... improvements per se. But with every passing day, I am successively finding out just how stupid I was yesterday. So... that's at least good."
"Or just that your opinion changed". Missy added helpfully (not so helpfully). "Well I guess it can't all be good. No such perfect thing."
Mademoiselle was silent. Now THAT is unusual. We both looked at her.
She just lit a stick and exhaled leisurely, drawing it out as long as possible, before finally looking down at the both of us and saying, "You're right." "I think when you take it all together, everything included, you still come out on top. At the end of the day it's more good than bad."
"You didn't need us to come to that conclusion did you?" Mademoiselle narrowed her eyes.
I smiled. No. But having them helped.
Monday, 16 August 2010
Back In Town.
(Chorus)
I've been all over the world,
Seen all the beautiful wonderful things,
But now I'm back in town baby,
Back in town, back in town.
They said Jeremiah was a bullfrog,
That his wine was mighty fine.
I would've liked to try that fine wine,
And go a-drinkin' away the time.
The king he had some mighty fine things,
Kitty cats a-dancing and porkers with wings.
Ran I did through that treasure hold,
Making sweet love to mountains of gold.
(Chorus)
I've been all over the world,
Seen all the beautiful wonderful things,
But now I'm back in town baby,
Back in town, back in town.
If I had the run of the world,
I'll tell you what I'd do.
I'd swing by every joint in town,
And shake it till the moon goes down.
(Chorus)
I've been all over the world,
Seen all the beautiful wonderful things,
But now I'm back in town baby,
Back in town, back in town.
I've been all over the world,
Seen all the beautiful wonderful things,
But now I'm back in town baby,
Back in town, back in town.
They said Jeremiah was a bullfrog,
That his wine was mighty fine.
I would've liked to try that fine wine,
And go a-drinkin' away the time.
The king he had some mighty fine things,
Kitty cats a-dancing and porkers with wings.
Ran I did through that treasure hold,
Making sweet love to mountains of gold.
(Chorus)
I've been all over the world,
Seen all the beautiful wonderful things,
But now I'm back in town baby,
Back in town, back in town.
If I had the run of the world,
I'll tell you what I'd do.
I'd swing by every joint in town,
And shake it till the moon goes down.
(Chorus)
I've been all over the world,
Seen all the beautiful wonderful things,
But now I'm back in town baby,
Back in town, back in town.
Not Yet.
There was so much left unsaid,
I never got to tell you.
I never got to hold you,
Before you went away.
Tell me again why I waited,
I never took my chances.
I never paid the dues,
Before you went away.
(Chorus)
You walked away,
Before I could say,
We're not done yet,
And until then my love will stay.
(Bridge)
Turn to me again,
Even if this is the end.
I need to close the book,
I need that one last look.
(Chorus)
You walked away,
Before I could say,
Don't leave me yet,
I need to say,
We're not done yet,
And until then my love will stay.
I never got to tell you.
I never got to hold you,
Before you went away.
Tell me again why I waited,
I never took my chances.
I never paid the dues,
Before you went away.
(Chorus)
You walked away,
Before I could say,
We're not done yet,
And until then my love will stay.
(Bridge)
Turn to me again,
Even if this is the end.
I need to close the book,
I need that one last look.
(Chorus)
You walked away,
Before I could say,
Don't leave me yet,
I need to say,
We're not done yet,
And until then my love will stay.
I'm Through Burning For You.
Lonely nights and lonely days,
Passed me by in your arms.
I could never make you stay,
It was always in your charms.
I was yours but you my love,
You were never truly mine.
And though I prayed to God above,
I cried to sleep every single time.
(Chorus)
I'm through burning for you.
You were never where I needed you.
I'm done breaking my heart,
Packing my bags I'm tearing us apart.
I wish I shook off that hold,
You always had on me.
You got me the very first time,
Like taking candy from a baby.
And I spent my time pining,
For that side I hoped to see.
But I can't wait my whole life,
Baby you never cared for me.
(Chorus)
I'm through burning for you.
You were never where I needed you.
I'm done breaking my heart,
Packing my bags I'm tearing us apart.
Passed me by in your arms.
I could never make you stay,
It was always in your charms.
I was yours but you my love,
You were never truly mine.
And though I prayed to God above,
I cried to sleep every single time.
(Chorus)
I'm through burning for you.
You were never where I needed you.
I'm done breaking my heart,
Packing my bags I'm tearing us apart.
I wish I shook off that hold,
You always had on me.
You got me the very first time,
Like taking candy from a baby.
And I spent my time pining,
For that side I hoped to see.
But I can't wait my whole life,
Baby you never cared for me.
(Chorus)
I'm through burning for you.
You were never where I needed you.
I'm done breaking my heart,
Packing my bags I'm tearing us apart.
We'll Rock The House.
There were times,
We thought we'd never make it.
Things were hard,
And we just couldn't fake it.
You know how you try and try,
And never get it.
You know how you throw it all,
But never stick it.
We know the feeling,
We hit the ceiling,
But we bounced back up,
So here's to never giving up.
(Chorus)
We'll rock the house,
There's nothing that can stand in our way,
Because when we shake it up,
We live it up, turn it up, burn it up,
We're the best we'll beat the rest.
The going gets tough,
And it gets hard to stick together.
But we busted through,
Stayed here for one another.
(Chorus)
We'll rock the house,
There's nothing that can stand in our way,
Because when we shake it up,
We live it up, turn it up, burn it up,
We're the best we'll beat the rest.
We thought we'd never make it.
Things were hard,
And we just couldn't fake it.
You know how you try and try,
And never get it.
You know how you throw it all,
But never stick it.
We know the feeling,
We hit the ceiling,
But we bounced back up,
So here's to never giving up.
(Chorus)
We'll rock the house,
There's nothing that can stand in our way,
Because when we shake it up,
We live it up, turn it up, burn it up,
We're the best we'll beat the rest.
The going gets tough,
And it gets hard to stick together.
But we busted through,
Stayed here for one another.
(Chorus)
We'll rock the house,
There's nothing that can stand in our way,
Because when we shake it up,
We live it up, turn it up, burn it up,
We're the best we'll beat the rest.
Ready To Have A Good Time.
Left the papers on the desk,
Stiff pencil skirts behind.
Because no way in hell I'm not fine,
I really need to have a good time.
Sweeping the streets, the lights,
Tonight babe I'm burnin' bridges.
I know what I need, what I need,
And I need to have a good time.
(Chorus)
Ready to have a good time,
Tonight we ain't toe-ing the line.
The city's all mine mine mine,
I'm so ready to have a good time.
(Bridge)
Come on girls,
I know something the secret to paradise.
We gonna clean up real nice.
They won't know what hit 'em!
Shaking my hair loose,
My drink ain't the only thing on fire.
I want it all, I want it all,
I'm feelin' like a live wire.
(Chorus)
Ready to have a good time,
Tonight we ain't toe-ing the line.
The city's all mine mine mine,
I'm so ready to have a good time.
Stiff pencil skirts behind.
Because no way in hell I'm not fine,
I really need to have a good time.
Sweeping the streets, the lights,
Tonight babe I'm burnin' bridges.
I know what I need, what I need,
And I need to have a good time.
(Chorus)
Ready to have a good time,
Tonight we ain't toe-ing the line.
The city's all mine mine mine,
I'm so ready to have a good time.
(Bridge)
Come on girls,
I know something the secret to paradise.
We gonna clean up real nice.
They won't know what hit 'em!
Shaking my hair loose,
My drink ain't the only thing on fire.
I want it all, I want it all,
I'm feelin' like a live wire.
(Chorus)
Ready to have a good time,
Tonight we ain't toe-ing the line.
The city's all mine mine mine,
I'm so ready to have a good time.
No Way.
Your swagger, your style.
Ooh baby I love it.
The room's on fire hotstuff,
I just can't get enough.
Lovin' the cheesy lines,
Boy you're so damn fine.
You get us girls derailed,
But honey honey honey,
You ain't steady material.
(Chorus)
No no no no way no way,
I'm getting with you.
Not until you get a clue.
There's no way no way,
I'm so not into you.
I need a guy who gets me,
Not just one for getting silly,
And until you get the idea,
I want you nowhere near.
You're good for a fling,
A girl does want a fun ride.
But all fun and games aside,
I need someone by my side.
(Chorus)
No no no no way no way,
I'm getting with you.
Not until you get a clue.
There's no way no way,
I'm so not into you.
Ooh baby I love it.
The room's on fire hotstuff,
I just can't get enough.
Lovin' the cheesy lines,
Boy you're so damn fine.
You get us girls derailed,
But honey honey honey,
You ain't steady material.
(Chorus)
No no no no way no way,
I'm getting with you.
Not until you get a clue.
There's no way no way,
I'm so not into you.
I need a guy who gets me,
Not just one for getting silly,
And until you get the idea,
I want you nowhere near.
You're good for a fling,
A girl does want a fun ride.
But all fun and games aside,
I need someone by my side.
(Chorus)
No no no no way no way,
I'm getting with you.
Not until you get a clue.
There's no way no way,
I'm so not into you.
Monday, 5 July 2010
Mademoiselle Dishes on W.
Mademoiselle made an interesting observation about one of my friends the other day. W has always been somewhat the charming sort. Talks a mile a minute, affluent and it shows. There's a confidence in his swagger that makes itself known to those around him be it consciously or subconsciously.
But Mademoiselle had dismissively waved him off and said that he was a guy in denial. Someone who tries very hard to be a nice and understanding person and hides the parts of him that do not conform to those standards.
She said that W may not be a simple person but he isn't horribly complex either. She had him all figured out.
He knows what he should be and what he wants to be. The nice and understanding sort of friend. He tries very hard not to judge, although he cannot stop himself and therefore he keeps it silent and tries not to let it show although it still does somehow. He maintains a detachment to everything and everyone in his life besides his immediate family members and ties made with him are hardly ever as strong as it could be with another as he forgets easily. In a way, he prides himself of his apparent inscrutability and apathy. In another way he wants to be the good friend who's always there and he goes through the motions best he can although the fact of the matter is he doesn't really care a lot about a lot of people and it shows somehow.
In relation to his close friends, Mademoiselle had this to say with a nonchalant wave.
"W is a reasonably straight and honest guy. The only person he's not honest to is himself."
"How do you know all this?" I had asked her.
And she answered with a smirk. "Because I see a bit of myself in him although not nearly as pathetic. I'd like to think I have a bit more class to it than he does. And I am not as obvious either," she sneered.
"The fact that most have no idea is proof that it's working. Oh how those fools assume that they know all about me. But they don't even come close to understanding." She trilled with laughter.
Leaning back she added. "And also because most people are quite easily read. At least to me they are. Should I expend my precious attention on them. " She said with a smug smile.
Well, go Mademoiselle. *smiles* And she is right.
W and Sugar asked me once why I hesitate to tell them what was on my mind. It wasn't Sugar. I would've told her in an instant for I knew she would not think less of me. It was W I was worried about. Because I knew that although he would try very hard not to, he can't help it, he will judge me. And knowing that, I do not feel like talking to him about much or anything even. Total waste of energy and effort if you ask me.
But Mademoiselle had dismissively waved him off and said that he was a guy in denial. Someone who tries very hard to be a nice and understanding person and hides the parts of him that do not conform to those standards.
She said that W may not be a simple person but he isn't horribly complex either. She had him all figured out.
He knows what he should be and what he wants to be. The nice and understanding sort of friend. He tries very hard not to judge, although he cannot stop himself and therefore he keeps it silent and tries not to let it show although it still does somehow. He maintains a detachment to everything and everyone in his life besides his immediate family members and ties made with him are hardly ever as strong as it could be with another as he forgets easily. In a way, he prides himself of his apparent inscrutability and apathy. In another way he wants to be the good friend who's always there and he goes through the motions best he can although the fact of the matter is he doesn't really care a lot about a lot of people and it shows somehow.
In relation to his close friends, Mademoiselle had this to say with a nonchalant wave.
"W is a reasonably straight and honest guy. The only person he's not honest to is himself."
"How do you know all this?" I had asked her.
And she answered with a smirk. "Because I see a bit of myself in him although not nearly as pathetic. I'd like to think I have a bit more class to it than he does. And I am not as obvious either," she sneered.
"The fact that most have no idea is proof that it's working. Oh how those fools assume that they know all about me. But they don't even come close to understanding." She trilled with laughter.
Leaning back she added. "And also because most people are quite easily read. At least to me they are. Should I expend my precious attention on them. " She said with a smug smile.
Well, go Mademoiselle. *smiles* And she is right.
W and Sugar asked me once why I hesitate to tell them what was on my mind. It wasn't Sugar. I would've told her in an instant for I knew she would not think less of me. It was W I was worried about. Because I knew that although he would try very hard not to, he can't help it, he will judge me. And knowing that, I do not feel like talking to him about much or anything even. Total waste of energy and effort if you ask me.
Tell Me Something New.
As far as advice goes, no one has ever been able to give me something that I need but didn't already know. Something that totally hits me like, Oh my gosh! You were so right! It totally worked! YES! Thank you thank you THANK YOU!
No.
No.
$@#%&#...
*scoffs* You're never good enough for anyone. This one's not right. That one's not right. That's not good enough. No, this is wrong. That is wrong. Oh good Lord, gimme a break. What're you expecting anyway? Are they even reasonable expectations? And believe me when I say something. I'm the one doing it. I know.
Somehow you can practice all you want and feel that you're really prepared. Then you get there and everything falls to pieces. And you don't feel like you were able to give your best or even of reasonable quality. Fuck this shit. How're you supposed to do something if things keep going crap like that? $@#%&#.
Somehow you can practice all you want and feel that you're really prepared. Then you get there and everything falls to pieces. And you don't feel like you were able to give your best or even of reasonable quality. Fuck this shit. How're you supposed to do something if things keep going crap like that? $@#%&#.
Before You Say A Thing...
In relation to my previous post, I do know some people who might shake their heads upon reading it and possibly say that that is a very shallow thing to say.
This is what I mean when I said "possibly elitist" by the way.
People who pride themselves with their intelligence commonly share a taste for the thought-provoking and the "tasteful" materials. And that is all fine and good.
But it rather disgusts me that if I do not share that taste, then I am "shallow".
Yes, it is intelligent writing. It is clever. Thought-provoking, real heavy stuff, I get it. But it is also freakishly depressing and if that is distasteful to me, I should be able to say it without garnering judgements from the "intelligent" people about my depth of thought.
Wake up people. How deep do you think you are, making judgements such as that? I get it, you're smart, you're intelligent. But what is the point if at the end of the day you turn up your noses at others just like the "shallow" people you disdain?
My tastes should not be the only determining factor of my depth of thought. And in a sense, who are we to judge "depth of thought" and who are we to claim to know better anyway? I get it, judgements like these are passed and made everyday. I make them too. I watch it, but I do make them. It's inevitable. Part of being human actually. But I do take notice. Do you?
Sugar is a genuinely non-judgemental person. She REALLY doesn't judge. She harbours no thoughts of whether a person is deep or shallow, smart or dumb, etc. She sees the best in people and she's really one of the purest souls I've ever met.
Now she may be no philosopher (then again how many of us really are?), but she got one thing right that many other "intelligent" people just always seem to get wrong. She looks at the world through very accepting eyes. Something that a lot of us just can't seem to do well enough.
So now, we have a very interesting question on our hands. What do we do? What's the right to do? Never judge anyone ever? *snorts* Right. Impossible. If that were the case there will be no such thing as opinions. The alternative, on the other hand, is also bad for the obvious reasons. So now what? What would you do?
God, I hate circular arguments. They go nowhere. Lots of debating later, and you end up right back where you started. At square one. Because it's probably the only square that exists in these cases anyhow. Now I know why they say that nobody's perfect. You just can't win. There's no perfect balance. And even if there was, I'd really like to meet that someone who actually gets it all right all the time.
This is what I mean when I said "possibly elitist" by the way.
People who pride themselves with their intelligence commonly share a taste for the thought-provoking and the "tasteful" materials. And that is all fine and good.
But it rather disgusts me that if I do not share that taste, then I am "shallow".
Yes, it is intelligent writing. It is clever. Thought-provoking, real heavy stuff, I get it. But it is also freakishly depressing and if that is distasteful to me, I should be able to say it without garnering judgements from the "intelligent" people about my depth of thought.
Wake up people. How deep do you think you are, making judgements such as that? I get it, you're smart, you're intelligent. But what is the point if at the end of the day you turn up your noses at others just like the "shallow" people you disdain?
My tastes should not be the only determining factor of my depth of thought. And in a sense, who are we to judge "depth of thought" and who are we to claim to know better anyway? I get it, judgements like these are passed and made everyday. I make them too. I watch it, but I do make them. It's inevitable. Part of being human actually. But I do take notice. Do you?
Sugar is a genuinely non-judgemental person. She REALLY doesn't judge. She harbours no thoughts of whether a person is deep or shallow, smart or dumb, etc. She sees the best in people and she's really one of the purest souls I've ever met.
Now she may be no philosopher (then again how many of us really are?), but she got one thing right that many other "intelligent" people just always seem to get wrong. She looks at the world through very accepting eyes. Something that a lot of us just can't seem to do well enough.
So now, we have a very interesting question on our hands. What do we do? What's the right to do? Never judge anyone ever? *snorts* Right. Impossible. If that were the case there will be no such thing as opinions. The alternative, on the other hand, is also bad for the obvious reasons. So now what? What would you do?
God, I hate circular arguments. They go nowhere. Lots of debating later, and you end up right back where you started. At square one. Because it's probably the only square that exists in these cases anyhow. Now I know why they say that nobody's perfect. You just can't win. There's no perfect balance. And even if there was, I'd really like to meet that someone who actually gets it all right all the time.
Psychological Novels.
Grotesque by Natsuo Kirino is THE most depressing book I have EVER read. It is seriously fucking depressing. I felt miserable just reading it. And I got to about 80 pages before deciding that I could not continue any more. It was just TOO depressing. I felt like this huge dark cloud was hovering over me the whole time I read. It was gloomy, it was twisted, it was weird, it was the stuff of dark, gothic mangas maybe. The kind where they ponder the meaning of misery and the innate cruelty or evil in every person kind of thing. The kind where none of the characters ever seem to be happy and they all live in a perpetual state of psychological instability and uncertainty, and speak in low monotones. *shudders* It was depressing. The Japanese seem to like this kind of stuff.
I mean I don't deny the "deepness" of the novel. It certainly provokes a lot of thought. Miserable ones but still. It's... reflective. Of the human spirit, of the mind, of love and relationships between family members and friends, in a way. In a depressing kind of way.
God I hate psychological novels. They all lead nowhere. And "happiness" is a contraband there.
Stephen King's Lisey's Story is another one of those. Full of flashbacks, retrospective kind of stuff. Wikipedia brands it a "psychological thriller". Yeah psychological. Hate it. Depressing stuff.
I think any novels that "explores human nature" is depressive in a way. Even happy endings can have these bittersweet undertones that somehow never escape a story like that. Paulo Coelho's stuff are good examples. I mean what does it say? That humans are miserable creatures? That introspection leads to depressing discoveries?
My friend, he seems to like a bittersweet existance. He embraces it. Calls disenchantment a neutral state of being. Riiiight. Ok... Well not me. I've had enough of bittersweet. It's no state of existence. Whatever happened to the pursuit of "happyness" (heh heh heh). It exists because people wanna be happy. I don't know what kind of twisted, non straighforward (possibly elitist) pleasure that people get out of "bittersweetness" but it's lost on me.
Give me a romantic comedy anyday. Cheesy, happy and highly optimistic. Incidentally, Leap Year is awesome. It's funny. Really funny.
I mean I don't deny the "deepness" of the novel. It certainly provokes a lot of thought. Miserable ones but still. It's... reflective. Of the human spirit, of the mind, of love and relationships between family members and friends, in a way. In a depressing kind of way.
God I hate psychological novels. They all lead nowhere. And "happiness" is a contraband there.
Stephen King's Lisey's Story is another one of those. Full of flashbacks, retrospective kind of stuff. Wikipedia brands it a "psychological thriller". Yeah psychological. Hate it. Depressing stuff.
I think any novels that "explores human nature" is depressive in a way. Even happy endings can have these bittersweet undertones that somehow never escape a story like that. Paulo Coelho's stuff are good examples. I mean what does it say? That humans are miserable creatures? That introspection leads to depressing discoveries?
My friend, he seems to like a bittersweet existance. He embraces it. Calls disenchantment a neutral state of being. Riiiight. Ok... Well not me. I've had enough of bittersweet. It's no state of existence. Whatever happened to the pursuit of "happyness" (heh heh heh). It exists because people wanna be happy. I don't know what kind of twisted, non straighforward (possibly elitist) pleasure that people get out of "bittersweetness" but it's lost on me.
Give me a romantic comedy anyday. Cheesy, happy and highly optimistic. Incidentally, Leap Year is awesome. It's funny. Really funny.
Tuesday, 22 June 2010
Give It To Me In E.
So give it to me in E,
Because I love the way you are.
Give it to me in E,
Because without you I can't go too far.
You saved a hopeless fool,
I can't help but fall for you.
So give it to me in E,
Because my love for you is true.
Let's try it with an A,
No that cannot be right,
And I can't have you out of my sight.
How about the key of B,
You're in everything I see.
Let us try it in C now,
Cause you'll have me forever in tow.
D just won't do,
And I'll forever be in love with you.
So give it to me in E,
Because you're the only one,
Who can set me free.
Love me in whatever key you wanna use,
I can do it all for you're my darling muse.
Do it in whatever key you may fancy,
A, B, C, D, E, F, G,
It doesn't matter because it's only you I'll marry.
But for now, give it to me in E,
And what the hell,
Make it a friggin' symphony! :D
Because I love the way you are.
Give it to me in E,
Because without you I can't go too far.
You saved a hopeless fool,
I can't help but fall for you.
So give it to me in E,
Because my love for you is true.
Let's try it with an A,
No that cannot be right,
And I can't have you out of my sight.
How about the key of B,
You're in everything I see.
Let us try it in C now,
Cause you'll have me forever in tow.
D just won't do,
And I'll forever be in love with you.
So give it to me in E,
Because you're the only one,
Who can set me free.
Love me in whatever key you wanna use,
I can do it all for you're my darling muse.
Do it in whatever key you may fancy,
A, B, C, D, E, F, G,
It doesn't matter because it's only you I'll marry.
But for now, give it to me in E,
And what the hell,
Make it a friggin' symphony! :D
Loving You Was Like Punching Through A Glass Door.
Loving you was like punching through a glass door,
I bleed with every breath.
It takes me out so much,
I can't find my way back to what we used to have.
You broke me like a little doll,
The day you walked into my life.
But for all the pain you've caused for me,
I keep stabbing myself with that knife.
You lied and cheated and wasted,
Every day and moment of my life.
You destroyed the very fabric,
Of my neverending strife.
Now I can't trust my heart with love,
I can't trust this soul to live.
I am shattered with scattered pieces,
So shattered you wouldn't believe.
Come back to me or end this pain,
Once and for all.
Give me rest, set me free.
I need to be.
I need to be.
Don't reach out to me,
Just leave me be.
I need to piece my existence back,
Piece by piece.
Thread by thread.
I need to leave.
I bleed with every breath.
It takes me out so much,
I can't find my way back to what we used to have.
You broke me like a little doll,
The day you walked into my life.
But for all the pain you've caused for me,
I keep stabbing myself with that knife.
You lied and cheated and wasted,
Every day and moment of my life.
You destroyed the very fabric,
Of my neverending strife.
Now I can't trust my heart with love,
I can't trust this soul to live.
I am shattered with scattered pieces,
So shattered you wouldn't believe.
Come back to me or end this pain,
Once and for all.
Give me rest, set me free.
I need to be.
I need to be.
Don't reach out to me,
Just leave me be.
I need to piece my existence back,
Piece by piece.
Thread by thread.
I need to leave.
Sunday, 20 June 2010
Whiteout.
I watched Whiteout just now and I really felt for the old man. Doc. Ok, he was the villain, but still. At least he wasn't the one going around killing people. That would've been his partner. But anyway. My heart literally ached during the last few scenes where he confessed to everything before walking out into the blizzard holding a bottle of vodka or Scotch whiskey, without any protective gear on. He literally committed suicide.
Carrie: You don't have a granddaughter do you?
Doc: I don't have anything.
Oh God. That was just so sad. I mean, how can anyone not be moved by it. He was like a guy who'd given up on everything and now that his only backup plan pretty much blew up into pieces as well, he had nothing left. I pity him. He was one of the villains, or the mastermind behind the whole thing but he was well, he was a sad old guy and I really felt sorry for him. The way he delivered his last lines, the things he said, the way he said it, there was a kind of hopelessness and a sense of resignation in them. And when he stepped out into the blizzard to kill himself, holding a bottle of alcohol, that did it. That was SO sad, seriously, words can't do it justice. The resignation and the hopelessness of it! Killing! And that speech about the aurora australis before he opened the door added to the effect even more. Damn it wei. It was seriously so fucking sad. Damn kesian lah the old guy. I felt this dull ache in my heart when watching it because it was just so damn freaking sad. Words just can't do it justice.
Carrie: You don't have a granddaughter do you?
Doc: I don't have anything.
Oh God. That was just so sad. I mean, how can anyone not be moved by it. He was like a guy who'd given up on everything and now that his only backup plan pretty much blew up into pieces as well, he had nothing left. I pity him. He was one of the villains, or the mastermind behind the whole thing but he was well, he was a sad old guy and I really felt sorry for him. The way he delivered his last lines, the things he said, the way he said it, there was a kind of hopelessness and a sense of resignation in them. And when he stepped out into the blizzard to kill himself, holding a bottle of alcohol, that did it. That was SO sad, seriously, words can't do it justice. The resignation and the hopelessness of it! Killing! And that speech about the aurora australis before he opened the door added to the effect even more. Damn it wei. It was seriously so fucking sad. Damn kesian lah the old guy. I felt this dull ache in my heart when watching it because it was just so damn freaking sad. Words just can't do it justice.
Friday, 4 June 2010
When There's No One You Can Look To, Look To Me.
You say there's no one,
To dry your tears whenever you cry.
And all there is,
And empty room of silent sighs.
You say there's none,
In this world and some,
That sees your pain,
But still to you come.
You say there's nothing,
Like a shoulder to rest,
To lie your head upon,
When life has taken your best.
You say there isn't much,
For this girl to do.
Nothing much,
And nowhere to go to.
You feel the silence,
In the space around you.
You look but fail,
For one to help you through.
You say you've lost,
The will to ever hope.
For you can't bear the cost,
Of reprieve in another soul.
Missy you say there's no to dry your tears whenever you cry. And when you need it most, you have none to turn to. Well let me. I will dry your tears whenever you cry. I will be there for you when you need someone. I am always there.
To dry your tears whenever you cry.
And all there is,
And empty room of silent sighs.
You say there's none,
In this world and some,
That sees your pain,
But still to you come.
You say there's nothing,
Like a shoulder to rest,
To lie your head upon,
When life has taken your best.
You say there isn't much,
For this girl to do.
Nothing much,
And nowhere to go to.
You feel the silence,
In the space around you.
You look but fail,
For one to help you through.
You say you've lost,
The will to ever hope.
For you can't bear the cost,
Of reprieve in another soul.
Missy you say there's no to dry your tears whenever you cry. And when you need it most, you have none to turn to. Well let me. I will dry your tears whenever you cry. I will be there for you when you need someone. I am always there.
Wednesday, 2 June 2010
MLIA Moment.
Sheep and I were walking in the Curve the other day and we walked towards the glass wall enclosing the escalators near T.G.I Friday's.
Suddenly, we stopped and Sheep suddenly doubled back laughing. I naturally wondered what was the deal and Sheep pointed at the glass wall, with our reflections on it.
Then she said, "I saw that and I thought 'Those're two very funny looking girls' when I suddenly realized that it's US!"
That was fucking hilarious that was.
Suddenly, we stopped and Sheep suddenly doubled back laughing. I naturally wondered what was the deal and Sheep pointed at the glass wall, with our reflections on it.
Then she said, "I saw that and I thought 'Those're two very funny looking girls' when I suddenly realized that it's US!"
That was fucking hilarious that was.
Your Own Personal Brand of Morphine.
A friend recently expressed frustration at the people in his life who seem to be able to switch between personas in an instant. When things are quiet and there's no one else around, a certain side of her is shall we say allowed, to show itself. My friend was refering to the more thoughtful, contemplative side of course. But, when the girls are around, she turns into a "giggly, shallow plastic," or something of that equivalent. It would seem, a betrayal of her true nature.
Well, to that I simply surmise that we humans are social creatures. And to a certain extent many of us do have specific sides that show themselves more in different company. It is not a lie, merely an extension because a person cannot only be one thing. Like another friend L said, "It's not that I'm not being myself, I'm being different sides of myself. It's all me."
Acceptance is a very beautiful thing. It can make you feel all sorts of happy all at once and all sorts of relief all at once too. You feel like you're beathing new air and suddenly, at least for a moment, you're not Atlas anymore. It feels good. And everyone to a certain extent is looking for acceptance, from the people around them and the people that matter.
Maybe that is why many decide to put on the masks and build a collection. It's all about the acceptance. Even if it's not for real, even if it's not for good, it's for the moment and for that moment, you feel like one of the gang.
It's like your own personal brand of morphine. It may be nothing compared to the feeling of being completely cured, but at least for the moment that you have it, it takes away the pain. And when the cure is not within sight, that's all you've got to hold on to.
Well, to that I simply surmise that we humans are social creatures. And to a certain extent many of us do have specific sides that show themselves more in different company. It is not a lie, merely an extension because a person cannot only be one thing. Like another friend L said, "It's not that I'm not being myself, I'm being different sides of myself. It's all me."
Acceptance is a very beautiful thing. It can make you feel all sorts of happy all at once and all sorts of relief all at once too. You feel like you're beathing new air and suddenly, at least for a moment, you're not Atlas anymore. It feels good. And everyone to a certain extent is looking for acceptance, from the people around them and the people that matter.
Maybe that is why many decide to put on the masks and build a collection. It's all about the acceptance. Even if it's not for real, even if it's not for good, it's for the moment and for that moment, you feel like one of the gang.
It's like your own personal brand of morphine. It may be nothing compared to the feeling of being completely cured, but at least for the moment that you have it, it takes away the pain. And when the cure is not within sight, that's all you've got to hold on to.
Wednesday, 26 May 2010
Welcome To My Life, Simple Plan.
Do you ever feel like breaking down?
Do you ever feel out of place?
Like somehow you just don't belong and no one understands you.
Do you ever wanna run away?
Do you lock yourself in your room?
With the radio on, turned up so loud,
That no one hears you screaming.
No you don't know what it's like!
When nothing feels alright.
You don't know what it's like to be like me...
To be hurt, to feel lost, to be left out in the dark.
The be kicked, when you're down, to feel like you've been pushed around.
To be on the edge of breaking down and no one's there to save you,
No you don't know what it's like...
Welcome to my life.
Do you wanna be somebody else?
Are you sick of feeling so left out?
Are you desperate to find something more before your life is over?
Are you stuck inside a world you hate?
Are you sick of everyone around?
With the big fake smiles and stupid lies when deep inside you're bleeding.
No you don't know what's like!
When nothing feels alright.
You don't know what it's like to be like me...
To be hurt, to feel lost, to be left out in the dark.
To be kicked, when you're down, to feel like you've been pushed around.
To be on the edge of breaking down and no one's there to save you,
No you don't know what it's like...
Welcome to my life.
No one ever lied straight to your face,
No one ever stabbed you in the back.
You might think I'm happy but I'm not gonna be ok.
Everybody always gave you what you wanted,
You never had to work, it was always there.
You don't know what it's like, what it's like...
To be hurt, to feel lost, to be left out in the dark.
To be kicked, when you're down, to feel like you've been pushed around.
To be on the edge of breaking down and no one's there to save you,
No you don't know what it's like...
To be hurt, to feel lost, to be left out in the dark.
To be kicked, when you're down, to feel like you've been pushed around.
To be on the edge of breaking down and no one's there to save you,
No you don't know what it's like...
Welcome to my life.
Do you ever feel out of place?
Like somehow you just don't belong and no one understands you.
Do you ever wanna run away?
Do you lock yourself in your room?
With the radio on, turned up so loud,
That no one hears you screaming.
No you don't know what it's like!
When nothing feels alright.
You don't know what it's like to be like me...
To be hurt, to feel lost, to be left out in the dark.
The be kicked, when you're down, to feel like you've been pushed around.
To be on the edge of breaking down and no one's there to save you,
No you don't know what it's like...
Welcome to my life.
Do you wanna be somebody else?
Are you sick of feeling so left out?
Are you desperate to find something more before your life is over?
Are you stuck inside a world you hate?
Are you sick of everyone around?
With the big fake smiles and stupid lies when deep inside you're bleeding.
No you don't know what's like!
When nothing feels alright.
You don't know what it's like to be like me...
To be hurt, to feel lost, to be left out in the dark.
To be kicked, when you're down, to feel like you've been pushed around.
To be on the edge of breaking down and no one's there to save you,
No you don't know what it's like...
Welcome to my life.
No one ever lied straight to your face,
No one ever stabbed you in the back.
You might think I'm happy but I'm not gonna be ok.
Everybody always gave you what you wanted,
You never had to work, it was always there.
You don't know what it's like, what it's like...
To be hurt, to feel lost, to be left out in the dark.
To be kicked, when you're down, to feel like you've been pushed around.
To be on the edge of breaking down and no one's there to save you,
No you don't know what it's like...
To be hurt, to feel lost, to be left out in the dark.
To be kicked, when you're down, to feel like you've been pushed around.
To be on the edge of breaking down and no one's there to save you,
No you don't know what it's like...
Welcome to my life.
No You Don't Know What It's Like! You Don't Know What It's Like To Be Like Me... To Be Hurt, To Feel Lost, To Be Left Out In The Dark...
Incidentally, this is an excellent song for when you're feeling stressed out. So expressive! Says everything for you. *laughs*
I've heard various comments about this song being whiny and immature considering the incredibly teenage-angst theme to it. But come to think of it, maybe it's not really all that it sounds like.
I saw the video for the song. Simple Plan performing on a suspension bridge causing a huge traffic hold-up. And the camera shows some of the people in the car, having fights, feeling crummy, in accordance to the lyrics. Then at the end of the video, those people all get out of the car and start walking en masse through the traffic gridlock to join the band.
The video kinda got me thinking. The lyrics says, "No you don't know what it's like, etc." and to some may sound incredibly self-centred and self-absorbed. But accompanied with the video, it gave me a different impression.
What if the song was meant to express how everyone feels like during one of those moments, the feeling of being all alone in a rut, but the video shows that that angst is a universal thing, shared by many other people in the world. That would explain the lyrics being one way, and the video another, portraying a group of disgruntled individuals walking en masse away from their cars towards the other end of the bridge, almost like some exodus.
So the actual point of the song then, is not merely to whine about a situation, but also like a mirror, to portray a common human condition. Then the video steps in to show the say, for want of a better phrase, the bigger picture. Probably. Yes? No? Makes sense? *sits back and smiles with satisfaction* I knew it.
So the song can be taken either way. For the people who just want to enjoy the song and not look too much into it, then we can all just enjoy the fact that Simple Plan says everything we wanna say at the moment and more with such spunk! Yeah! We can just take it as raw expression of angst with drums and electric guitars to dance around the room to. I mean you gotta admit, they say it so well! They're strumming the frustration with their guitars and singing the angst with their words. Just like that old song "Killing Me Softly".
And for those who need to find a deeper meaning to the song instead of just adolescent whining, well now there you have it! *smiles*
I've heard various comments about this song being whiny and immature considering the incredibly teenage-angst theme to it. But come to think of it, maybe it's not really all that it sounds like.
I saw the video for the song. Simple Plan performing on a suspension bridge causing a huge traffic hold-up. And the camera shows some of the people in the car, having fights, feeling crummy, in accordance to the lyrics. Then at the end of the video, those people all get out of the car and start walking en masse through the traffic gridlock to join the band.
The video kinda got me thinking. The lyrics says, "No you don't know what it's like, etc." and to some may sound incredibly self-centred and self-absorbed. But accompanied with the video, it gave me a different impression.
What if the song was meant to express how everyone feels like during one of those moments, the feeling of being all alone in a rut, but the video shows that that angst is a universal thing, shared by many other people in the world. That would explain the lyrics being one way, and the video another, portraying a group of disgruntled individuals walking en masse away from their cars towards the other end of the bridge, almost like some exodus.
So the actual point of the song then, is not merely to whine about a situation, but also like a mirror, to portray a common human condition. Then the video steps in to show the say, for want of a better phrase, the bigger picture. Probably. Yes? No? Makes sense? *sits back and smiles with satisfaction* I knew it.
So the song can be taken either way. For the people who just want to enjoy the song and not look too much into it, then we can all just enjoy the fact that Simple Plan says everything we wanna say at the moment and more with such spunk! Yeah! We can just take it as raw expression of angst with drums and electric guitars to dance around the room to. I mean you gotta admit, they say it so well! They're strumming the frustration with their guitars and singing the angst with their words. Just like that old song "Killing Me Softly".
And for those who need to find a deeper meaning to the song instead of just adolescent whining, well now there you have it! *smiles*
Saturday, 22 May 2010
Well Now. *to be said with an upward inflection like a mild exclamation of wonder*
"Mademoiselle, why is it that you seem to have a disdain for almost everything?" I threw my head back and chuckled over my mug at her.
"Ah M.G," Mademoiselle replied with a scoff. Then she stared at me straight on for moment and then said dismissively, "Because almost everything has never made me happy."
"Ah M.G," Mademoiselle replied with a scoff. Then she stared at me straight on for moment and then said dismissively, "Because almost everything has never made me happy."
Missy's Story.
"Well 'Letters to Juliet' was awesome wasn't it?" Missy said with enthusiasm.
"Oh yes it was. I love it!" I grinned back. "It was so damn romantic..." I allowed myself to swoon.
"Yeah it was," Missy sighed and smiled.
We watched "Letters to Juliet" and it truly is an incredibly sweet and romantic story. Had me smiling all the way.
"M.G, I'd much rather think of love than my dreams and ambition," Missy told me, kicking the cobbled stone pavement before us lightly.
"Maybe love is more important to you than anything else?"
"Maybe..." we stopped walking and she fidgeted. "It's just, it's easier! Because I'd much rather dream about something that could happen instead of something that couldn't." she burst out.
"One fills you with hope, the other with despair." We continued walking.
Missy was right. The other has got to hurt more. Wanting something you cannot see any plausible way of getting to at the moment. And even if you could it just seems so far away that you wonder if you could ever make it. Add in self doubt into the mix and you've got a walloping portion of despair. I understood. And I told Missy that.
Missy acknowledged then that she thought I was right. Maybe love did mean more to her than anything. Maybe even her dreams. At the moment she cannot be entirely sure about it all, but she had a feeling it was possible. Maybe, she just wanted a place to belong.
"M.G, I just want my fairytale ending," Missy said softly.
I placed my hand on her back lightly. "I know. We all do. But I can't give it to you," "But someone will," I continued more brightly.
Missy just smiled. I know. She's heard it all before. We all have. Those trills may be true but they've become overused, repetitive and cliched.
"Who would like someone like me, M.G," she continued, even softer than before. "I'm neurotic! I've got friggin' OCD for God's sakes! I'm not the most endearing character..." she trailed off. Utter despair in her voice.
"Listen, Missy." But the truth was I didn't really know what to say. I don't have all the answers.
So I just gave her a hug.
"Missy I know you've got issues. Mademoiselle does too and she makes to cover it all up. But you both are no fools and you know what's the deal. Tell me you don't really feel all that hopeless because I know somehow you're still hoping for..." I shrugged.
"I know. But sometimes this feeling of hopelessness just washes over me and I can't see it. I just can't see the chances of it happening for me. When I really think about it. I'm just scared that all my hopes are for nothing."
"Yes, there's that." ... "But at the end of the day, you still hope. And no matter how much you may or may've doubted, you still hope. There must be a reason for that."
... "And for what it's worth, you really aren't that bad."
"You know, Mademoiselle's friend said that she needs a childish guy, someone she can look after, because she's a strong, independant girl." I smiled and looked away. "But he's wrong."
"She may be a strong willed, independant girl. But she's using up all she's got to take care of herself. She really can't afford to be taking care of another person. She needs someone who can take care of her, because in actuality, she's not one to be the caregiver. She needs to lean on someone."
I chuckled.
"But no one will ever know that. Because she's doesn't let on," I looked at Missy. "Let's hope she gets that covered eh?"
Missy has the good balance in this mix I think. She doesn't squirrel away her feelings and emotions in a cupboard and board it up. She lets it out and makes it known. Ok, fine. She's emo depressive, maybe some might say whiny and always seems forever plagued with issues and worries and she never seems to be happy. But at least she's honest about it. There's no pride in hiding your feelings away like Mademoiselle does. Sure, the world sees you differently. Probably in a much better light than Missy will be viewed, judging from the current status. But, what then?
When you think about it, what then? At the end of the day, what exactly have you achieved by doing that? You've managed to make people like you by putting on a show. So you'll be left there feeling defeated no matter what because whatever you said and did up to that point, is not a true personification of who you really are.
Whatever happened to that Dr. Seuss saying, "Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind." The old man had a point there.
"Oh yes it was. I love it!" I grinned back. "It was so damn romantic..." I allowed myself to swoon.
"Yeah it was," Missy sighed and smiled.
We watched "Letters to Juliet" and it truly is an incredibly sweet and romantic story. Had me smiling all the way.
"M.G, I'd much rather think of love than my dreams and ambition," Missy told me, kicking the cobbled stone pavement before us lightly.
"Maybe love is more important to you than anything else?"
"Maybe..." we stopped walking and she fidgeted. "It's just, it's easier! Because I'd much rather dream about something that could happen instead of something that couldn't." she burst out.
"One fills you with hope, the other with despair." We continued walking.
Missy was right. The other has got to hurt more. Wanting something you cannot see any plausible way of getting to at the moment. And even if you could it just seems so far away that you wonder if you could ever make it. Add in self doubt into the mix and you've got a walloping portion of despair. I understood. And I told Missy that.
Missy acknowledged then that she thought I was right. Maybe love did mean more to her than anything. Maybe even her dreams. At the moment she cannot be entirely sure about it all, but she had a feeling it was possible. Maybe, she just wanted a place to belong.
"M.G, I just want my fairytale ending," Missy said softly.
I placed my hand on her back lightly. "I know. We all do. But I can't give it to you," "But someone will," I continued more brightly.
Missy just smiled. I know. She's heard it all before. We all have. Those trills may be true but they've become overused, repetitive and cliched.
"Who would like someone like me, M.G," she continued, even softer than before. "I'm neurotic! I've got friggin' OCD for God's sakes! I'm not the most endearing character..." she trailed off. Utter despair in her voice.
"Listen, Missy." But the truth was I didn't really know what to say. I don't have all the answers.
So I just gave her a hug.
"Missy I know you've got issues. Mademoiselle does too and she makes to cover it all up. But you both are no fools and you know what's the deal. Tell me you don't really feel all that hopeless because I know somehow you're still hoping for..." I shrugged.
"I know. But sometimes this feeling of hopelessness just washes over me and I can't see it. I just can't see the chances of it happening for me. When I really think about it. I'm just scared that all my hopes are for nothing."
"Yes, there's that." ... "But at the end of the day, you still hope. And no matter how much you may or may've doubted, you still hope. There must be a reason for that."
... "And for what it's worth, you really aren't that bad."
"You know, Mademoiselle's friend said that she needs a childish guy, someone she can look after, because she's a strong, independant girl." I smiled and looked away. "But he's wrong."
"She may be a strong willed, independant girl. But she's using up all she's got to take care of herself. She really can't afford to be taking care of another person. She needs someone who can take care of her, because in actuality, she's not one to be the caregiver. She needs to lean on someone."
I chuckled.
"But no one will ever know that. Because she's doesn't let on," I looked at Missy. "Let's hope she gets that covered eh?"
Missy has the good balance in this mix I think. She doesn't squirrel away her feelings and emotions in a cupboard and board it up. She lets it out and makes it known. Ok, fine. She's emo depressive, maybe some might say whiny and always seems forever plagued with issues and worries and she never seems to be happy. But at least she's honest about it. There's no pride in hiding your feelings away like Mademoiselle does. Sure, the world sees you differently. Probably in a much better light than Missy will be viewed, judging from the current status. But, what then?
When you think about it, what then? At the end of the day, what exactly have you achieved by doing that? You've managed to make people like you by putting on a show. So you'll be left there feeling defeated no matter what because whatever you said and did up to that point, is not a true personification of who you really are.
Whatever happened to that Dr. Seuss saying, "Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind." The old man had a point there.
Mademoiselle's Story.
Mademoiselle sat facing me, again, as usual. She had one leg crossed over the other and her stiletto heel gleamed as it caught the light.
"Someone made me cry once," she said simply, examining her manicured nails. "And funnily enough, it was not the usual tears of anger, sorrow, heartbreak of frustration. No. These were tears of happiness."
"I was so moved I cried," she said this with an almost wonder in her eyes and voice.
I raised an eyebrow.
"You know you hear about stuff like this in the movies all the time. People crying tears of happiness." she said with a wave. Slight pause there. She was trying to gather her words and say it best she can.
"But," pause, "It was nice, so kind, so thoughtful, so... Monumental! No one had ever done something so kind and nice for me before in my life! And the fact that they did then, shocked me beyond words or actions." "I literally couldn't believe it. A complete turmoil of emotions which I let out by exploding into tears. Sobbing and wailing really," she said nonchalantly with a light tone as if she were recounting the weather of the past two days.
"Hmmmm," I nodded slightly.
"I guess I never thought something like that could ever happen for me. I genuinely never ever thought it possible that I never even in my wildest dreams fantasized about it. So when it hit me, it hit me real hard. I felt winded. Like I'd been run over by a bus. And when the shock passed, the tears and the sobs just poured out of me in waves and convulsions."
I acknowledged all this with a slight inclination of my head. I must say, this is interesting. Unusual.
"This is not a proud thing for me as you must know," she continued, exhaling a stream of smoke. "These things don't happen to me," she said matter-of-factly.
"..."
"But it did that once. And..." Silence. "Well! I must say, it was definitely interesting. Something highly unusual."
I smiled at Mademoiselle. I understood how she felt. I could see it, even if she herself tried so very hard not to. Or doesn't try at all. It was easier for her to ignore it. It was unchartered territory for her. But emotions are a part of everyone's life. And although Mademoiselle seems to have built a reputation centered around her casual lack of it, someone has to bear witness to the fact that she is indeed human. That someone is me.
Rare moments of Mademoiselle's indeed. As I've said before, *smiles* Mademoiselle, you do so entertain me.
"Someone made me cry once," she said simply, examining her manicured nails. "And funnily enough, it was not the usual tears of anger, sorrow, heartbreak of frustration. No. These were tears of happiness."
"I was so moved I cried," she said this with an almost wonder in her eyes and voice.
I raised an eyebrow.
"You know you hear about stuff like this in the movies all the time. People crying tears of happiness." she said with a wave. Slight pause there. She was trying to gather her words and say it best she can.
"But," pause, "It was nice, so kind, so thoughtful, so... Monumental! No one had ever done something so kind and nice for me before in my life! And the fact that they did then, shocked me beyond words or actions." "I literally couldn't believe it. A complete turmoil of emotions which I let out by exploding into tears. Sobbing and wailing really," she said nonchalantly with a light tone as if she were recounting the weather of the past two days.
"Hmmmm," I nodded slightly.
"I guess I never thought something like that could ever happen for me. I genuinely never ever thought it possible that I never even in my wildest dreams fantasized about it. So when it hit me, it hit me real hard. I felt winded. Like I'd been run over by a bus. And when the shock passed, the tears and the sobs just poured out of me in waves and convulsions."
I acknowledged all this with a slight inclination of my head. I must say, this is interesting. Unusual.
"This is not a proud thing for me as you must know," she continued, exhaling a stream of smoke. "These things don't happen to me," she said matter-of-factly.
"..."
"But it did that once. And..." Silence. "Well! I must say, it was definitely interesting. Something highly unusual."
I smiled at Mademoiselle. I understood how she felt. I could see it, even if she herself tried so very hard not to. Or doesn't try at all. It was easier for her to ignore it. It was unchartered territory for her. But emotions are a part of everyone's life. And although Mademoiselle seems to have built a reputation centered around her casual lack of it, someone has to bear witness to the fact that she is indeed human. That someone is me.
Rare moments of Mademoiselle's indeed. As I've said before, *smiles* Mademoiselle, you do so entertain me.
Hey You, Looking Like An Angel.
One of the preteen novels I read once described an incredibly cute guy as looking just like them angels in those Italian paintings and frescoes. And you know, you always hear it mentioned in movies, or in books, wherever. Of guys so good looking they apparently look like angels. And you know they're referring to those wall paintings again. I was like, what? Because in my mind's eye, those angels are either androgynous (and not in a good way) or cherubic, chubby little babies flying around VERY "modestly" clothed. *laughs* But to me, that is so not what I would call a hot guy. I couldn't even imagine a cute guy looking even remotely like those paintings. I just don't get it.
Until I saw this guy at the bowling alley one day. Oh. My. God he was cute! He was good looking alright. THEN I understood. Because as I stood there at the snack counter (he was right beside me) gawking at him in disbelief, the thought, the phrase immediately entered my mind. "Looks like one of those angels in the Italian paintings." Finally I could really see it. I could ACTUALLY see it! And the phrase was right! Spot on! Confused?
He was not one of those chubby babies and his gender is not in question, but he did! He looked like one of those angels! :o His short hair was lightly curly, we're talking more like loose waves and they were of a brownish, sandy gold-ish colour. His eyes were blue and his eyelashes long. His skin is fair, not tanned, and his face had this kind of olden day Greek bust to it without actually looking like one (Because most of those Greek busts were not good looking either).
So THAT'S what they meant! So THAT'S what the simile means! And now finally, I could see it. I could imagine it. I get it now. I so get it now. *laughs*
When I think back about it, he wasn't really that that THAT good looking. Or maybe time has just blurred the image from my memory. He was handsome yes, in a certain way, but he wasn't really drop-dead gorgeous like I'd die right now! gorgeous. As far as I remember. But something about his looks did strike me. It was like a flash of lightning, like someone switching on the light, seeing that guy that day. Maybe it was the phrase, and finally being able to understand it that got me. I just remember how the encounter made me feel and my thoughts at that moment. Quite vividly. But then again, it was some years ago. *shrugs* Maybe he really was that cute.
Until I saw this guy at the bowling alley one day. Oh. My. God he was cute! He was good looking alright. THEN I understood. Because as I stood there at the snack counter (he was right beside me) gawking at him in disbelief, the thought, the phrase immediately entered my mind. "Looks like one of those angels in the Italian paintings." Finally I could really see it. I could ACTUALLY see it! And the phrase was right! Spot on! Confused?
He was not one of those chubby babies and his gender is not in question, but he did! He looked like one of those angels! :o His short hair was lightly curly, we're talking more like loose waves and they were of a brownish, sandy gold-ish colour. His eyes were blue and his eyelashes long. His skin is fair, not tanned, and his face had this kind of olden day Greek bust to it without actually looking like one (Because most of those Greek busts were not good looking either).
So THAT'S what they meant! So THAT'S what the simile means! And now finally, I could see it. I could imagine it. I get it now. I so get it now. *laughs*
When I think back about it, he wasn't really that that THAT good looking. Or maybe time has just blurred the image from my memory. He was handsome yes, in a certain way, but he wasn't really drop-dead gorgeous like I'd die right now! gorgeous. As far as I remember. But something about his looks did strike me. It was like a flash of lightning, like someone switching on the light, seeing that guy that day. Maybe it was the phrase, and finally being able to understand it that got me. I just remember how the encounter made me feel and my thoughts at that moment. Quite vividly. But then again, it was some years ago. *shrugs* Maybe he really was that cute.
The Book of Tomorrow, Cecelia Ahern.
I just finished Cecelia Ahern's The Book of Tomorrow. Wow. Now that was a tearfest right there. Had me sobbing into my tissue. Literally. Sobbing. I was crying so much I couldn't breathe and had to blow my nose before continuing with the crying. It went that way for about two to three cycles. Now that is a sad story.
Maybe it is because the main character is closer to my age that it is easier to identify with her. Or maybe it's the sheer descriptiveness of her writing, descriptive of Tamara's incredibly bleak and hopeless looking situation, her intense sorrow and a sense of desperation privy only to the trapped and those with seemingly nowhere else to go. It was heart-rending really.
I mean, it's just so sad to see a spoiled brat who was so used to getting everything she wanted and needed and who did not need to care about anything or anyone in her life, be faced with such a crushing turn of events. The regret, the despair, the sense of being lost, the realization, the sorrow and the wish that she had done things differently all in relation to her family was just heart breaking it was. I would say the reader has no choice but to feel for her.
The book displays before us an array of "moral lessons". Take the time to look around, see all the good that you have and try to appreciate it more. Especially the people around you. It's no use regretting it after they're gone or things've changed. Changing is seeing the world with new eyes. And seeing the people you once knew with new eyes.
Tamara did not see how much her father had loved her before his death and she being a spoilt brat, breezed through life aware and unaware of the fact at the same time. When he finally committed suicide one day and left her life in a downward spiral, in hindsight only did she see the things that she was once so blind to. However, that is the way things are sometimes. It is incredibly hard to see something when you're too close to the project. A step back, allowing for more detachment and objectivity is required sometimes for some realizations to set in. Is that the way things're meant to be perhaps?
The description is vivid, the words precise, and the story... Interesting. I must say there was quite a bit of intrigue in it which developed itself into a full blown mystery by the end of the story. I am actually less moved by the whole plotline than the immediate story concerning Tamara herself and her personal experiences and emotions. That was the one that hit the jackpot and opened up floods of tears. Now that is what I call a tearjerker. A good book, I would assure any prospective readers.
Maybe it is because the main character is closer to my age that it is easier to identify with her. Or maybe it's the sheer descriptiveness of her writing, descriptive of Tamara's incredibly bleak and hopeless looking situation, her intense sorrow and a sense of desperation privy only to the trapped and those with seemingly nowhere else to go. It was heart-rending really.
I mean, it's just so sad to see a spoiled brat who was so used to getting everything she wanted and needed and who did not need to care about anything or anyone in her life, be faced with such a crushing turn of events. The regret, the despair, the sense of being lost, the realization, the sorrow and the wish that she had done things differently all in relation to her family was just heart breaking it was. I would say the reader has no choice but to feel for her.
The book displays before us an array of "moral lessons". Take the time to look around, see all the good that you have and try to appreciate it more. Especially the people around you. It's no use regretting it after they're gone or things've changed. Changing is seeing the world with new eyes. And seeing the people you once knew with new eyes.
Tamara did not see how much her father had loved her before his death and she being a spoilt brat, breezed through life aware and unaware of the fact at the same time. When he finally committed suicide one day and left her life in a downward spiral, in hindsight only did she see the things that she was once so blind to. However, that is the way things are sometimes. It is incredibly hard to see something when you're too close to the project. A step back, allowing for more detachment and objectivity is required sometimes for some realizations to set in. Is that the way things're meant to be perhaps?
The description is vivid, the words precise, and the story... Interesting. I must say there was quite a bit of intrigue in it which developed itself into a full blown mystery by the end of the story. I am actually less moved by the whole plotline than the immediate story concerning Tamara herself and her personal experiences and emotions. That was the one that hit the jackpot and opened up floods of tears. Now that is what I call a tearjerker. A good book, I would assure any prospective readers.
Friday, 21 May 2010
Inspiration.
I haven't written in a while. And I must say. The past month, there has been a wall of uninspiration. Blocking my effort to write, blocking my desire to express anything using the written word. It comes and goes with the flow I guess. With phases and seasons. And no doubt, seasons and phases of laziness definitely play a part in my writer's block as well. Probably to every writer too. Sometimes, inspiration just doesn't come and you're just too lazy to go out looking for it. *shrugs*
Knowing You, Knowing Me.
"I've got a grain of pride buried within a haystack of insecurities," Madmeoiselle announced proudly to me with that typical slightly smug with a hint of arrogance look on her face. She looked down her nose at me, expecting my response.
"Oh. Ok. That's an interesting way to put it. What's up with that?"
"Why not. I mean, who can be a better authority on me, than me myself right?"
I have to say I agree. She's got a point there. She's got a point.
"Oh. Ok. That's an interesting way to put it. What's up with that?"
"Why not. I mean, who can be a better authority on me, than me myself right?"
I have to say I agree. She's got a point there. She's got a point.
Missy and Mademoiselle.
"Mademoiselle."
Mademoiselle just sat silently in her armchair, staring out the window, then somewhere in my direction, but past me. She was stalling. It was like a word was hanging upon her lips and she was going to say it, wanted to say it, and not wanting to say it at the same time. I would say that it was just a general idea, not specific, fully formed words that she had in mind and it hung there like a dead weight, while she swirled it around in her mouth, deciding when and whether or not to spit it out. The sunshine fell from a window to her right, lightly on her face at an angle and gave the scene before me a cool picture-like quality. Well Mademoiselle sure knows how to place herself. I raised an eyebrow.
Our faces were still, each a perfect mask of inexpression. It was so neutral that I could feel the lack of expression on my face. I felt like I was wearing a plastic mask. That must be how she feels too. Ah, such self-conscious, self-aware people we both are. The smoke from her stick coiled lazily upwards as she draped her hand carelessly over the armrest of her chair.
I knew she would say something when she was ready. She likes to make an entrance mademoiselle does. And when she says it, her words would've been very carefully considered.
Then she smiled. And I felt the crease come to my own face with a relief, feeling my muscles tug themselves into a smile of my own. Finally. My face felt free and looser, not set in that perfect expression of emotionless inexpresison.
I should think Mademoiselle had decided in the end not to say anything at all about it then, judging by her continued lack of words. The atmosphere of something hanging in the air passed because she had decided there was nothing to be said and shattered the suspense. Her body relaxed quite visibly from its rigid contemplative frame and sank more heavily into the cushions of the armchair. These are comfortable armchairs.
I looked away. So why is it then that we even ventured upon this discussion? Or, almost discussion? She had to say it. She had to say something, she had to bring it out. And now that she has, something feels done. Acknowledged and discussed, although no actual lenghty discussion had taken place. It lightens her burden.
I shifted my gaze again. For so long I have been the mediator between Mademoiselle, and Missy. Mademoiselle is cold, cold, cold, steel. She pierces and stabs. She rams straight on, buffeting like the wind. Missy is warm. Soft, liquid. She muffles and wraps around. She is like the tear that slides down your cheek, fluid, still warm.
They need me. They need my balance. They need the balance.
Now silence hung still and heavy in the air. I wanted to open my mouth and say something. Indeed, my muscles ached to move and form words that will come floating out into the air and renew it, replacing the stale silence that now hung there. But somehow, a certain reluctance, the same kind that held Mademoiselle's words moments ago, held mine now. It was a silence I longed to break, but was also reluctant to.
"Sometimes I wonder if we could do without ourselves," Mademoiselle spoke. Shatter. The air felt fresh and clean again and I felt like a weight has been lifted off my chest. Breath came more freely and lightly now. I smiled. A sunny smile. This was more like it. Conversation. No matter about what. Not that stupid, stale silence. Tinkling music of talking. I smiled.
"Now, now. Why do you say that?"
She shrugged. I smiled wider. Shit. I need to think. This takes some thinking. Thinking means silence. I rather jabber on.
I sighed. "Mademoiselle, you and Missy, you both burden yourselves too much. Lighten up." Well, that didn't take too much thinking.
She shrugged again.
"Sometimes I wonder if my family might've had a history of mental illness, somewhere down the line. Occasionally, it jusr gets so... I feel like I'm in real danger of sliding, however remote it is. For the moment, it feels more... possible."
Well that came out eventually.
"Does it matter? You know you're not gonna, you won't. And that you'll forget all about this once something distracts you. It won't feel so pressing to be discussed anymore. That's how it always goes. You pass."
"Yes, I pass." She smiled. "I pass. As I always do. So 'I' am a symptom, yes?"
"Yes Mademoiselle, you are symptom. The state of being you, is a symptom. To yourself, and to other people maybe."
Mademoiselle laughed. Loud and boldly. Missy would be there soon.
True to my word, Missy walked in. I watched her approach. Her walk was soft in a way, every move of her legs was played in almost slow-motion. Her walk acquired an almost fluid, characteristic quality of her. It's her walk. That's how Missy walks. A physical embodiment of her character. She is soft, she is warm, she is... Hot chocolate. Her walk is like hot chocolate. A marshmallow comes to mind. Soft, fluffy. Missy walks soft. I'm thinking too much.
I turned my gaze away resolutely. The reverie was broken. Truth is Missy walks like any other normal person. I am thinking too much. I shook my head slowly. The Madmeoiselle symptom. Then I chuckled.
"Missy you had something to say?" That was me.
Missy just smiled, a gentle smile. It wasn't a sad smile. It wasn't a radiant, happy happy smile. It was just a smile. A Mona Lisa smile. Damn it. I smiled mirthlessly and looked down at my lap.
Silence again. Oh God. Damn it. Ok this was going way out of hand. I am used to them talking. Madmeoiselle with her loud boasts and flambuoyant manner. Her bold words and bolder statements. Her sometimes insightful, sometimes dismissive, sometimes disdainful, sometimes objective jabber as she goes on and on about people. People in general, people she knows. Herself, anything. I am used to her waving about her peacock tail, more colourful than a peacock's and more, much more flashy and... Blinged out. That was Mademoiselle. She was the voice and image of solid, efficient, and material ideals.
Missy on the other hand, I'm used to her soft voice accounting her woes or her sorrows. Pouring it all out to us so we can share and help her left her burden, help her feel better about the world and herself. Or her wailing voice, sharp and forceful, jabbering on and on when she's in a state of wild abandon and hysteria, angry and letting the world know. Not caring. She was explosive, could be. Missy is subjectivity where Madmeoiselle is objectivity. A torrent of water rushing down from the bucket placed above the door and splashing all over the floor. That image comes to mind. I am used to hearing her moan about something or other. Complaining, insecurity, doubt.
But now this silence. This small smile. I was not used to. What is this? Subtlety is not for those two. That is my job. Those two are to be as flambuoyant as ever. To the max. The two extremes. Subtlety is my territory. Now what is this?
What happens when the extreme does not know how to be extreme? What happens when the hurricane feels a pull away from it's nature and does not rage? Madmeoiselle and Missy. They know where they stand. They know they're the extremes and they're supposed to be. What to do when even the two extremes find confusion in being themselves? Then what is sure anymore? Then what is certain?
I remained where I was. But I cannot. Remaining where I am is boring. Neither does this pasture hold any more interest for me. I am bored, I need new sights. I need new incentives and new excitement. New life. So I'm not going to remain where I am in this limbo. It may be a tentative balance between two raging extremes, but so what. It's not a good place to be. There's no more energy and enthusiasm. No life. It serves no one, particularly not me, any purpose. So I'm going where the party is.
"Let's move seats." I declared to the two of them.
We three picked up our bags and abandoned our outpost, heading deeper into the cafe where the chatter picked up and sat down at a new table.
Now this is better, Fresh and new. We ordered new drinks. Expensive new drinks. New smoke curled up comfortably from Mademoiselle's poised hand as she leaned forward, probably about to say something trashy. And conversation flowed.
Madmeoiselle, dismissive, disdainful, haughty, arrogant. Missy, understanding, gentle, forgiving, hesitant. The dynamics fluorished. Laughter abounded. Serious words exchanged. Gossip flew. Judgements hurled without thought of dencency or consideration for the person spoken about. *smiles* It's the good life.
Mademoiselle just sat silently in her armchair, staring out the window, then somewhere in my direction, but past me. She was stalling. It was like a word was hanging upon her lips and she was going to say it, wanted to say it, and not wanting to say it at the same time. I would say that it was just a general idea, not specific, fully formed words that she had in mind and it hung there like a dead weight, while she swirled it around in her mouth, deciding when and whether or not to spit it out. The sunshine fell from a window to her right, lightly on her face at an angle and gave the scene before me a cool picture-like quality. Well Mademoiselle sure knows how to place herself. I raised an eyebrow.
Our faces were still, each a perfect mask of inexpression. It was so neutral that I could feel the lack of expression on my face. I felt like I was wearing a plastic mask. That must be how she feels too. Ah, such self-conscious, self-aware people we both are. The smoke from her stick coiled lazily upwards as she draped her hand carelessly over the armrest of her chair.
I knew she would say something when she was ready. She likes to make an entrance mademoiselle does. And when she says it, her words would've been very carefully considered.
Then she smiled. And I felt the crease come to my own face with a relief, feeling my muscles tug themselves into a smile of my own. Finally. My face felt free and looser, not set in that perfect expression of emotionless inexpresison.
I should think Mademoiselle had decided in the end not to say anything at all about it then, judging by her continued lack of words. The atmosphere of something hanging in the air passed because she had decided there was nothing to be said and shattered the suspense. Her body relaxed quite visibly from its rigid contemplative frame and sank more heavily into the cushions of the armchair. These are comfortable armchairs.
I looked away. So why is it then that we even ventured upon this discussion? Or, almost discussion? She had to say it. She had to say something, she had to bring it out. And now that she has, something feels done. Acknowledged and discussed, although no actual lenghty discussion had taken place. It lightens her burden.
I shifted my gaze again. For so long I have been the mediator between Mademoiselle, and Missy. Mademoiselle is cold, cold, cold, steel. She pierces and stabs. She rams straight on, buffeting like the wind. Missy is warm. Soft, liquid. She muffles and wraps around. She is like the tear that slides down your cheek, fluid, still warm.
They need me. They need my balance. They need the balance.
Now silence hung still and heavy in the air. I wanted to open my mouth and say something. Indeed, my muscles ached to move and form words that will come floating out into the air and renew it, replacing the stale silence that now hung there. But somehow, a certain reluctance, the same kind that held Mademoiselle's words moments ago, held mine now. It was a silence I longed to break, but was also reluctant to.
"Sometimes I wonder if we could do without ourselves," Mademoiselle spoke. Shatter. The air felt fresh and clean again and I felt like a weight has been lifted off my chest. Breath came more freely and lightly now. I smiled. A sunny smile. This was more like it. Conversation. No matter about what. Not that stupid, stale silence. Tinkling music of talking. I smiled.
"Now, now. Why do you say that?"
She shrugged. I smiled wider. Shit. I need to think. This takes some thinking. Thinking means silence. I rather jabber on.
I sighed. "Mademoiselle, you and Missy, you both burden yourselves too much. Lighten up." Well, that didn't take too much thinking.
She shrugged again.
"Sometimes I wonder if my family might've had a history of mental illness, somewhere down the line. Occasionally, it jusr gets so... I feel like I'm in real danger of sliding, however remote it is. For the moment, it feels more... possible."
Well that came out eventually.
"Does it matter? You know you're not gonna, you won't. And that you'll forget all about this once something distracts you. It won't feel so pressing to be discussed anymore. That's how it always goes. You pass."
"Yes, I pass." She smiled. "I pass. As I always do. So 'I' am a symptom, yes?"
"Yes Mademoiselle, you are symptom. The state of being you, is a symptom. To yourself, and to other people maybe."
Mademoiselle laughed. Loud and boldly. Missy would be there soon.
True to my word, Missy walked in. I watched her approach. Her walk was soft in a way, every move of her legs was played in almost slow-motion. Her walk acquired an almost fluid, characteristic quality of her. It's her walk. That's how Missy walks. A physical embodiment of her character. She is soft, she is warm, she is... Hot chocolate. Her walk is like hot chocolate. A marshmallow comes to mind. Soft, fluffy. Missy walks soft. I'm thinking too much.
I turned my gaze away resolutely. The reverie was broken. Truth is Missy walks like any other normal person. I am thinking too much. I shook my head slowly. The Madmeoiselle symptom. Then I chuckled.
"Missy you had something to say?" That was me.
Missy just smiled, a gentle smile. It wasn't a sad smile. It wasn't a radiant, happy happy smile. It was just a smile. A Mona Lisa smile. Damn it. I smiled mirthlessly and looked down at my lap.
Silence again. Oh God. Damn it. Ok this was going way out of hand. I am used to them talking. Madmeoiselle with her loud boasts and flambuoyant manner. Her bold words and bolder statements. Her sometimes insightful, sometimes dismissive, sometimes disdainful, sometimes objective jabber as she goes on and on about people. People in general, people she knows. Herself, anything. I am used to her waving about her peacock tail, more colourful than a peacock's and more, much more flashy and... Blinged out. That was Mademoiselle. She was the voice and image of solid, efficient, and material ideals.
Missy on the other hand, I'm used to her soft voice accounting her woes or her sorrows. Pouring it all out to us so we can share and help her left her burden, help her feel better about the world and herself. Or her wailing voice, sharp and forceful, jabbering on and on when she's in a state of wild abandon and hysteria, angry and letting the world know. Not caring. She was explosive, could be. Missy is subjectivity where Madmeoiselle is objectivity. A torrent of water rushing down from the bucket placed above the door and splashing all over the floor. That image comes to mind. I am used to hearing her moan about something or other. Complaining, insecurity, doubt.
But now this silence. This small smile. I was not used to. What is this? Subtlety is not for those two. That is my job. Those two are to be as flambuoyant as ever. To the max. The two extremes. Subtlety is my territory. Now what is this?
What happens when the extreme does not know how to be extreme? What happens when the hurricane feels a pull away from it's nature and does not rage? Madmeoiselle and Missy. They know where they stand. They know they're the extremes and they're supposed to be. What to do when even the two extremes find confusion in being themselves? Then what is sure anymore? Then what is certain?
I remained where I was. But I cannot. Remaining where I am is boring. Neither does this pasture hold any more interest for me. I am bored, I need new sights. I need new incentives and new excitement. New life. So I'm not going to remain where I am in this limbo. It may be a tentative balance between two raging extremes, but so what. It's not a good place to be. There's no more energy and enthusiasm. No life. It serves no one, particularly not me, any purpose. So I'm going where the party is.
"Let's move seats." I declared to the two of them.
We three picked up our bags and abandoned our outpost, heading deeper into the cafe where the chatter picked up and sat down at a new table.
Now this is better, Fresh and new. We ordered new drinks. Expensive new drinks. New smoke curled up comfortably from Mademoiselle's poised hand as she leaned forward, probably about to say something trashy. And conversation flowed.
Madmeoiselle, dismissive, disdainful, haughty, arrogant. Missy, understanding, gentle, forgiving, hesitant. The dynamics fluorished. Laughter abounded. Serious words exchanged. Gossip flew. Judgements hurled without thought of dencency or consideration for the person spoken about. *smiles* It's the good life.
Tuesday, 16 March 2010
What Now?
What happens when the high is over? What happens when you hit the crash after the sugar rush? What then?
It Feels Like Monday.
The rain keeps pouring,
And the sun don't shine.
The road is muddy,
My shoes get dirty,
What a fine day it is today.
I drop my books,
I misplace my keys.
The food sucks today,
Everyone's extra annoying,
This totally feels like Monday.
Everything I do seems wrong,
I can't put anything right.
I'm trying my best for goodness's sakes,
But I just can't seem to catch a break.
It totally feels like Monday.
I hit the curb today,
My car has a dent in it.
My wheel's got a flat in it,
And it cost a shitload to fix.
Heck I just changed the whole tyre.
Got yelled at by the lecturer,
Forgot my history paper.
Showed up late for a class,
And got stared at for being last.
It totally feels like Monday.
Why can't this day just behave like it's supposed to,
Like a bloody Tuesday for God's sakes!
Everything I do seems wrong,
I can't put anything right.
I'm trying my best for goodness's sakes,
But I just can't seem to catch a break.
It totally feels like Monday.
And the sun don't shine.
The road is muddy,
My shoes get dirty,
What a fine day it is today.
I drop my books,
I misplace my keys.
The food sucks today,
Everyone's extra annoying,
This totally feels like Monday.
Everything I do seems wrong,
I can't put anything right.
I'm trying my best for goodness's sakes,
But I just can't seem to catch a break.
It totally feels like Monday.
I hit the curb today,
My car has a dent in it.
My wheel's got a flat in it,
And it cost a shitload to fix.
Heck I just changed the whole tyre.
Got yelled at by the lecturer,
Forgot my history paper.
Showed up late for a class,
And got stared at for being last.
It totally feels like Monday.
Why can't this day just behave like it's supposed to,
Like a bloody Tuesday for God's sakes!
Everything I do seems wrong,
I can't put anything right.
I'm trying my best for goodness's sakes,
But I just can't seem to catch a break.
It totally feels like Monday.
Hey Mr. Unenthusiastic.
Ok what's the deal here? This is ridiculous but it's a group project and it needs everyone to be in it. So what is UP with you? I know you have other projects going on as well but then if you're so uninterested then why sign up for this in the first place? Your friend asked you to join, well then! *throws hands up in frustration*
I mean this is ridiculous. It's like you're not even interested. No, correction, you aren't interested are you? Not really you're not. Tell the truth.
It's like I do half the work, and S pretty much does the other half. All you do is show up and do the minimal amount. You don't even try to make it better eventhough you obviously can, you just sit there like a rock.
But I know being disappointed in someone's lack of interest is just plain pointless and demanding. So... *shrugs* Ah fuck it lah.
I mean this is ridiculous. It's like you're not even interested. No, correction, you aren't interested are you? Not really you're not. Tell the truth.
It's like I do half the work, and S pretty much does the other half. All you do is show up and do the minimal amount. You don't even try to make it better eventhough you obviously can, you just sit there like a rock.
But I know being disappointed in someone's lack of interest is just plain pointless and demanding. So... *shrugs* Ah fuck it lah.
Monday, 8 March 2010
The Power Of The Waterworks.
My friend and I were discussing something tonight. We had just discovered that men have an innate power themselves. And that power is called... The Power of the Waterworks. *smug smile*
Yes, guys' tears apparently have more of the whoa! factor than girls' ones do.
Maybe it's because guys are not "supposed" to cry. It's the whole gender roles thing. Typically, girls are the ones who're supposed to tear up at every little thing and guys don't cry. "Real men" don't cry. So when a guy cries, it's like nuclear, man! Because it's so uncommon, so out of character that when a guy cries, you feel like, "Oh my gosh! This must be huge because he's crying!!!"
So then the girls just get real freaked out and ta-da. Looks like girls aren't the only ones who can cry to get what they want. My friend actually did that and ta-da! Instant resolution to the fight at hand. Beautiful. A bit freaky for the girl, but gotta say. Can't underestimate the power a guy's tears as well.
We theorized it this way.
Guys crying has this bombshell effect that creates major shockwaves around when it happens in public. But if used once too often, then the effect quickly diminishes to the extent where it becomes almost non-existant and even starts to take on an extra annoying quality. It's like potential energy. The higher you go, the higher the gathered potential energy. The longer you wait before your next outburst of tears, the bigger the impact.
Girls crying on the other hand is a more... consistent quality. It does not take as long to recharge and the effects are pretty much at the same level everytime it happens. What that level is depends on the person the tears are directed at. But it doesn't really have that nuclear, shocking effect as when a guy cries in public. And the longer you wait before turning on the waterworks, does not really directly correlate with the amount of effect it has. However, if pulled off too often, it would also slowly lose its impact. But not as quickly and as much as for the guys.
There are exceptions of course. There will be girls who're so known for their emotional strength that seeing them cry is like a huge thing. And there are guys who're so known for their sensitive side that them crying is not quite that shocking as it would otherwise have been. But then really, how many of these cases are there.
Somehow gender assigned roles have been set. Girls are the ones who get to burst into tears more, and guys generally need to stay away from the bawling and the sobbing. Because it's just "not cool".
What do you think? Fascinating, no?
There is also an article which stated that crying is apparently therapeutic (quite obviously), and therefore people who allow themselves to cry more tend to have a more effective stress level reducing technique at hand and would tend to live longer. So crying is healthy. :)
Go on boys, give it a try.
Yes, guys' tears apparently have more of the whoa! factor than girls' ones do.
Maybe it's because guys are not "supposed" to cry. It's the whole gender roles thing. Typically, girls are the ones who're supposed to tear up at every little thing and guys don't cry. "Real men" don't cry. So when a guy cries, it's like nuclear, man! Because it's so uncommon, so out of character that when a guy cries, you feel like, "Oh my gosh! This must be huge because he's crying!!!"
So then the girls just get real freaked out and ta-da. Looks like girls aren't the only ones who can cry to get what they want. My friend actually did that and ta-da! Instant resolution to the fight at hand. Beautiful. A bit freaky for the girl, but gotta say. Can't underestimate the power a guy's tears as well.
We theorized it this way.
Guys crying has this bombshell effect that creates major shockwaves around when it happens in public. But if used once too often, then the effect quickly diminishes to the extent where it becomes almost non-existant and even starts to take on an extra annoying quality. It's like potential energy. The higher you go, the higher the gathered potential energy. The longer you wait before your next outburst of tears, the bigger the impact.
Girls crying on the other hand is a more... consistent quality. It does not take as long to recharge and the effects are pretty much at the same level everytime it happens. What that level is depends on the person the tears are directed at. But it doesn't really have that nuclear, shocking effect as when a guy cries in public. And the longer you wait before turning on the waterworks, does not really directly correlate with the amount of effect it has. However, if pulled off too often, it would also slowly lose its impact. But not as quickly and as much as for the guys.
There are exceptions of course. There will be girls who're so known for their emotional strength that seeing them cry is like a huge thing. And there are guys who're so known for their sensitive side that them crying is not quite that shocking as it would otherwise have been. But then really, how many of these cases are there.
Somehow gender assigned roles have been set. Girls are the ones who get to burst into tears more, and guys generally need to stay away from the bawling and the sobbing. Because it's just "not cool".
What do you think? Fascinating, no?
There is also an article which stated that crying is apparently therapeutic (quite obviously), and therefore people who allow themselves to cry more tend to have a more effective stress level reducing technique at hand and would tend to live longer. So crying is healthy. :)
Go on boys, give it a try.
Let Me Be A Girl.
I caught myself saying to my friend tonight, "Let me be a girl." And I thought, hey, now that's something. It's true.
I seldom get the chance to be a girl. Somehow, during most times I just can't. Not really. Not enough. And so for tonight, yeah, let me be a girl. :)
I seldom get the chance to be a girl. Somehow, during most times I just can't. Not really. Not enough. And so for tonight, yeah, let me be a girl. :)
Sunday, 7 March 2010
Gibberish At Midnight (Hours Past-Midnight).
I am so hungry right now. I am starving. My stomach is playing an orchestral symphony right now! And I think I can even hear strains and Handel's Messiah. This can't be good for you... :s I need some food to get it to the Hallelujah chorus though.
This is what you get for staying up till ungodly hours of the morning. I swear people in the neighbourhood are waking up or have woken up right about now and I haven't even gone to bed yet.
I am so hungry I could eat a whole restaurant right now.
My friend once asked in response to a similar statement. "The WHOLE restaurant? Bricks, chairs and all?"
And I replied, "The level of my hunger right now? Yes, the whole restaurant. Bricks, mortar, chairs, tables and all."
This really can't be good for you... :s
On a completely unrelated note, my friend once asked me if silence in a conversation between two people is good. She described the silence as having finished the topic they were previously on and not having a new one to start up on instantly.
So I asked if the other party made conversation back.
And she said he did. He would try to start conversation and get a discussion going if things got too silent and cricket orchestra got too loud.
So I said, "Then like that ok lah. If the other person is also willing to make conversation back and takes a fair share in starting the conversation, then like that even if got silence also it's still not completely traffic jam yet."
Something along those lines. She cracked up a "traffic jam". I do rather like the metaphor myself.
On another completely unrelated note, my cousin told me a hilarious story. At least, I found it hilarious. The people I was telling it too didn't get the hilarity of it. Maybe because I was too busy laughing to tell it properly. Either that or I just have a funny sense of humour.
My cousin loves black and white clothing. She loves the whole monochrome thing. Her closet is full of black and white clothes. Mostly black, apparently.
So one day, her sister and her went shopping and coincidentally, came back with ALL black clothes. Black skirts, black shorts, black shirt, the works. They laundered the clothes and put them on the clothesline outside their house.
One fine breezy day, their mother, my aunt, walked past the open window, looked outside, and exclaimed, "Aiyo! Why so sui!" when she saw the lines of black clothes flapping in the breeze. LOL!!!
That was just TOO funny!
This is what you get for staying up till ungodly hours of the morning. I swear people in the neighbourhood are waking up or have woken up right about now and I haven't even gone to bed yet.
I am so hungry I could eat a whole restaurant right now.
My friend once asked in response to a similar statement. "The WHOLE restaurant? Bricks, chairs and all?"
And I replied, "The level of my hunger right now? Yes, the whole restaurant. Bricks, mortar, chairs, tables and all."
This really can't be good for you... :s
On a completely unrelated note, my friend once asked me if silence in a conversation between two people is good. She described the silence as having finished the topic they were previously on and not having a new one to start up on instantly.
So I asked if the other party made conversation back.
And she said he did. He would try to start conversation and get a discussion going if things got too silent and cricket orchestra got too loud.
So I said, "Then like that ok lah. If the other person is also willing to make conversation back and takes a fair share in starting the conversation, then like that even if got silence also it's still not completely traffic jam yet."
Something along those lines. She cracked up a "traffic jam". I do rather like the metaphor myself.
On another completely unrelated note, my cousin told me a hilarious story. At least, I found it hilarious. The people I was telling it too didn't get the hilarity of it. Maybe because I was too busy laughing to tell it properly. Either that or I just have a funny sense of humour.
My cousin loves black and white clothing. She loves the whole monochrome thing. Her closet is full of black and white clothes. Mostly black, apparently.
So one day, her sister and her went shopping and coincidentally, came back with ALL black clothes. Black skirts, black shorts, black shirt, the works. They laundered the clothes and put them on the clothesline outside their house.
One fine breezy day, their mother, my aunt, walked past the open window, looked outside, and exclaimed, "Aiyo! Why so sui!" when she saw the lines of black clothes flapping in the breeze. LOL!!!
That was just TOO funny!
You Know The Feeling?
You know the feeling of knowing that you CAN do something. You do have the ability to do it, if not well even, and yet somehow, your brain is just too lazy to dig up that skill from the cupboard and to get it kick started?
So you just go about thinking you wanna do it, trying to do it, but when the real thinking process comes along, you just get too lazy to think and abandon the whole thing. What you get are vague, hazy ideas of how you could finish your project and make it good, but it needs more work and polishing to actually make that hazy vision happen. That's when your brain suddenly decides to up and leave for vacation in Bali or something. Wtf wei. Why so damn lazy one. -_-"""""""""
So you just go about thinking you wanna do it, trying to do it, but when the real thinking process comes along, you just get too lazy to think and abandon the whole thing. What you get are vague, hazy ideas of how you could finish your project and make it good, but it needs more work and polishing to actually make that hazy vision happen. That's when your brain suddenly decides to up and leave for vacation in Bali or something. Wtf wei. Why so damn lazy one. -_-"""""""""
Nocturnal.
Ok this is ridiculous. I am turning nocturnal. Literally. Somehow I only get what I wanna write in the insanely early hours of the morning. This in turn, results in me writing for a few hours and not sleeping. You see how this can be a problem. Especially when you have to keep to the schedule of the rest of the world. Funny lah.
Gamers and Their Semangat Gaming.
Holy shit, I think now I understand those gamers and their kick-ass win win win! gaming spirit.
I guess when you're in the heat of the situation, example, in a game, you get caught up in it and you feel like you need to win it. Or even if you can't you sure as hell are gonna try!
Reason I could feel it firsthand? I recently started trying out playing an online game and I could feel the vibe of it just emanating from my fellow players. The better ones really get into it and can get a little... anxious, or... enthusiastic, about it. And from Salt's stories about his other gaming friends, I'm just grateful that I've never teamed up with some of the more uh... snappy ones before.
These guys take their gaming seriously. And words and tones can get pretty harsh in the process, apparently. And being the beginner, I am obviously weak at the game. So playing it with the more experienced players sometimes makes you feel guilty. Because you feel like you're the only weak link and you're slowing down everybody else.
The vibe I get off my friends, somehow I feel that that is nothing compared to how it's like in serious gaming. *laughs* I guess when you're in the heat of the battle, it can get a bit tense, urgent and uh... "kan cheong". So I guess in a way it's understandable, how they can get so wound up. Especially if they're serious about the game and they're good at it.
But at the end of the day, like Water so creatively *laughs* named his character, itsjustagameitsjustagame. And after it's over, the gamers' frazzled nerves and adrenaline levels can return to normal and they'll once again behave like their usual, more relaxed selves. :)
I guess when you're in the heat of the situation, example, in a game, you get caught up in it and you feel like you need to win it. Or even if you can't you sure as hell are gonna try!
Reason I could feel it firsthand? I recently started trying out playing an online game and I could feel the vibe of it just emanating from my fellow players. The better ones really get into it and can get a little... anxious, or... enthusiastic, about it. And from Salt's stories about his other gaming friends, I'm just grateful that I've never teamed up with some of the more uh... snappy ones before.
These guys take their gaming seriously. And words and tones can get pretty harsh in the process, apparently. And being the beginner, I am obviously weak at the game. So playing it with the more experienced players sometimes makes you feel guilty. Because you feel like you're the only weak link and you're slowing down everybody else.
The vibe I get off my friends, somehow I feel that that is nothing compared to how it's like in serious gaming. *laughs* I guess when you're in the heat of the battle, it can get a bit tense, urgent and uh... "kan cheong". So I guess in a way it's understandable, how they can get so wound up. Especially if they're serious about the game and they're good at it.
But at the end of the day, like Water so creatively *laughs* named his character, itsjustagameitsjustagame. And after it's over, the gamers' frazzled nerves and adrenaline levels can return to normal and they'll once again behave like their usual, more relaxed selves. :)
Aaaah... I Think Now I Get It.
A couple of friends have introduced me to this concept before. Liking someone and happily not expecting any feelings to be returned. I was like, "Huh???"
I didn't get it. I couldn't get it. I was like what the fuck?
T once told me, sometimes it's nice to like someone. It's just a nice feeling. To like someone, then you keep it. You'll be happy everytime you see him and get the chance to talk to him. She said all this with the most adorable smile on her face. But then again, T has always been quite endearing. *smiles*
N pretty much has the same opinion as well. Hers goes along the line of, if you like someone, it doesn't mean he has to like you back. Just enjoy the feeling of it.
I was like, enjoy the feeling??? I HATE the feeling. What part of it is nice??? Tell me! *imagine that sentence said with the most incredulous expression on my face*
I really couldn't get it.
But I think... That now I know. Now I do.
It's a bit different, but similar too.
Basically the case is, I gave up on the guy. I just gave up on it. So I am now basically just enjoying admiring him. Oh yes, I do like him. But with no hope whatsoever, even if there is it is so minimal as to be negligible, I am now just enjoying the admiration of him. Giggling about him. Talking about him. The feeling excited just to see him. Etc.
You know how when you talk to your girlfriends and they either have bfs or people they're crushing on?
One goes, "Oh my God! Guess what my baby did for me!" *squeals with excitement and happiness*
Sidenote: For some reason or other, ALL of my friends call their sweethearts "baby". I even got so tired of hearing the word everywhere I once suggested to my friends who're together, "Why baby? Why not you guys call each other something different? Like sugar, or honey, or anything! Other than baby. It's like everybody's going biii here, biiii there. Come on people, some variety! Please!"
Ok, so one goes, "Oh my God! Guess what my baby did for me!" *squeals with excitement and happiness*
Another one also goes, "Holy shit the guy is SO cute!!! Ohmygod I like him so much. I just melt..." *lets out a squeal of excitement*
Yet another one goes, "I know what you mean!!! This guy that I like, he is SO hot! I am so in love..." *blissed out smile*
As a single girl who is not interested in anyone at the moment, you can just go, "Oooh hahaha!" or, "Yeah! Hahahaha!" You really have nothing much to say, because you don't have your own story to share.
But if you are interested in somebody, then suddenly you have this guy to giggle over as well with the rest of the girls. It just makes things more fun.
Because now, you can go, "OMG!!! Yes! I know! My guy is SO cute too! *happy sigh* I like him." *smiles*
Then the giggling and chatting goes on.
Something like that.
That's once of the benefits. Then the others are just you know, feeling happy to see him, to talk to him, feeling excited about the prospect of meeting him, the nice feeling when he smiles at you or laughs with you, etc. To have all that, without the friggin' emo-ness that comes with most of my crushes would be a good feeling in a way, I guess.
But then I wonder. Is it only that way because you don't like the person enough? Could it be that the crushes where you can still feel that way without getting all emo over it are just not the ones that're really strong?
Because it's just illogical in a sense. How can you fall for someone crazy intensely and still be perfectly happy and content that he or she doesn't even look your way? Doesn't seem to fit.
I am feeling the fun-ness of it all now just because mainly, I have given up on the whole thing. So it's like I don't care so much anymore.
And you know what people say about giggly girl crushes. They're never serious.
The serious ones won't be that giggly anymore I bet.
So maybe those crushes my friends had were just minor ones. Minor enough that they could enjoy the feeling without investing too much emotion and care into the whole thing to make them feel the emo-ness.
Interesting.
I should probably stop talking about love and related subjects now. I get the feeling I've been posting too much about the stuff lately. But what can you do! You can't deny. There's just so much about it and to it. It's such a fascinating subject! *earnest wide-eyed look*
There's just a lot to talk about I guess, where this particular constitution is concerned. :)
I didn't get it. I couldn't get it. I was like what the fuck?
T once told me, sometimes it's nice to like someone. It's just a nice feeling. To like someone, then you keep it. You'll be happy everytime you see him and get the chance to talk to him. She said all this with the most adorable smile on her face. But then again, T has always been quite endearing. *smiles*
N pretty much has the same opinion as well. Hers goes along the line of, if you like someone, it doesn't mean he has to like you back. Just enjoy the feeling of it.
I was like, enjoy the feeling??? I HATE the feeling. What part of it is nice??? Tell me! *imagine that sentence said with the most incredulous expression on my face*
I really couldn't get it.
But I think... That now I know. Now I do.
It's a bit different, but similar too.
Basically the case is, I gave up on the guy. I just gave up on it. So I am now basically just enjoying admiring him. Oh yes, I do like him. But with no hope whatsoever, even if there is it is so minimal as to be negligible, I am now just enjoying the admiration of him. Giggling about him. Talking about him. The feeling excited just to see him. Etc.
You know how when you talk to your girlfriends and they either have bfs or people they're crushing on?
One goes, "Oh my God! Guess what my baby did for me!" *squeals with excitement and happiness*
Sidenote: For some reason or other, ALL of my friends call their sweethearts "baby". I even got so tired of hearing the word everywhere I once suggested to my friends who're together, "Why baby? Why not you guys call each other something different? Like sugar, or honey, or anything! Other than baby. It's like everybody's going biii here, biiii there. Come on people, some variety! Please!"
Ok, so one goes, "Oh my God! Guess what my baby did for me!" *squeals with excitement and happiness*
Another one also goes, "Holy shit the guy is SO cute!!! Ohmygod I like him so much. I just melt..." *lets out a squeal of excitement*
Yet another one goes, "I know what you mean!!! This guy that I like, he is SO hot! I am so in love..." *blissed out smile*
As a single girl who is not interested in anyone at the moment, you can just go, "Oooh hahaha!" or, "Yeah! Hahahaha!" You really have nothing much to say, because you don't have your own story to share.
But if you are interested in somebody, then suddenly you have this guy to giggle over as well with the rest of the girls. It just makes things more fun.
Because now, you can go, "OMG!!! Yes! I know! My guy is SO cute too! *happy sigh* I like him." *smiles*
Then the giggling and chatting goes on.
Something like that.
That's once of the benefits. Then the others are just you know, feeling happy to see him, to talk to him, feeling excited about the prospect of meeting him, the nice feeling when he smiles at you or laughs with you, etc. To have all that, without the friggin' emo-ness that comes with most of my crushes would be a good feeling in a way, I guess.
But then I wonder. Is it only that way because you don't like the person enough? Could it be that the crushes where you can still feel that way without getting all emo over it are just not the ones that're really strong?
Because it's just illogical in a sense. How can you fall for someone crazy intensely and still be perfectly happy and content that he or she doesn't even look your way? Doesn't seem to fit.
I am feeling the fun-ness of it all now just because mainly, I have given up on the whole thing. So it's like I don't care so much anymore.
And you know what people say about giggly girl crushes. They're never serious.
The serious ones won't be that giggly anymore I bet.
So maybe those crushes my friends had were just minor ones. Minor enough that they could enjoy the feeling without investing too much emotion and care into the whole thing to make them feel the emo-ness.
Interesting.
I should probably stop talking about love and related subjects now. I get the feeling I've been posting too much about the stuff lately. But what can you do! You can't deny. There's just so much about it and to it. It's such a fascinating subject! *earnest wide-eyed look*
There's just a lot to talk about I guess, where this particular constitution is concerned. :)
Mademoiselle's "System".
"You're looking chic as usual, Mademoiselle."
"But of course! I AM Mademoiselle. There must've been a reason you decided to call me that."
"Not quite the reason you had in mind."
"I know. But nevertheless," she waved casually from the armchair she was lounging on.
Mademoiselle you do fascinate me sometimes.
I earned another interesting snippet from her today and it struck me as well, interesting.
Mademoiselle says.
You know for some reason, I am harsher in my opinions and less forgiving to the people I do care about compared to the people I don't care about. I am less forgiving of their character, I tend to think the worst of them instead of the best and the concept of the benefit of the doubt? Practically non-existant when it comes to them.
... Ok... Uh... Why?
Oh you know, it makes perfect sense once I explain it to you. You'll see. It's because the people I care about can actually hurt and disappoint me. So I see the worst in them so that I won't be too nastily surprised just in case it does happen. Expect the worst and you'll never be disappointed, so they say.
Ok... But are you sure that works with uh... people?
Of course! The same principle applies. I think the worst of them. If there is an incident and anything even hints at it being an indication of bad character, then I take that option and I choose to believe that more than "seeing the good in them" and giving them the benefit of the doubt. Because you never know. If they are really like that or not. So I don't want to be disappointed. *she looks away with a bit of a faraway look* I don't like to be disappointed.
... I can't afford to be wrong about that. I can't afford to be "misled". *Then she clicks Seamus open and said*. It's safer this way.
Oh come on Mademoiselle, that's quite unfair you know. Nobody likes to be seen that way. Nobody likes to have someone think the worst of them and mistake their intentions for something negative. It's quite hurtful.
I know. But they never have to know. I keep my opinions to myself and I am a very good actress when it comes to things like that. That's just for me to live by.
It can show.
It can and it has. But screw it. They can take it. *Again the vacant look* It's not so big a deal really. That's just my system.
... ... ...
So, if you see me being very forgiving about someone character, thinking the best of them and giving them all the benefit of the doubt, which I usually am, it actually means I don't really give a shit about them. *smiles* So even if I turn out to be wrong... *apathetic shrug* Nyeh.
Well... Well.... *crickets chirping* WELL... That's a very interesting point of view you've got actually. I gotta say. It's... interesting.
I know. Isn't it cool? *nonchalantly sips chai*
There was a silent moment then.
"Although..." she says suddenly, slowly, running her fingers in circles around the rim of her cup. "It doesn't mean that I don't have the capacity to love you know. I do."
Well that's a good thing Mademoiselle. :) Sometimes people do stuff and say stuff that may make them seem like something, but the truth can be something else. They may not actually be lying. Mademoiselle isn't. They're being truthful. But sometimes, the truth can be a little bit more complicated. Like Mademoiselle's system as discussed above.
Contemplative moment over, she suddenly looked at me.
"You're not gonna write about this are you?" "It's not good for my image. This, *she gestures* all this."
"Well... I might. I could. I... would. Unless you ask me not to, that is." "Do you really want to be seen that way?"
"It's fine by me."
*shakes head slowly* "You and your wall. You know, sentiments are allowed. And letting people know about them is not such a bad thing. You handle it with such distaste like it's a poison."
"Well, look who's talking." She eyes me over her coffee cup.
"Oh go ahead, it doesn't matter anyway. It's not like they even know who I am." she says with another careless wave.
Yes Mademoiselle. They don't know.
I really do have weird friends.
"But of course! I AM Mademoiselle. There must've been a reason you decided to call me that."
"Not quite the reason you had in mind."
"I know. But nevertheless," she waved casually from the armchair she was lounging on.
Mademoiselle you do fascinate me sometimes.
I earned another interesting snippet from her today and it struck me as well, interesting.
Mademoiselle says.
You know for some reason, I am harsher in my opinions and less forgiving to the people I do care about compared to the people I don't care about. I am less forgiving of their character, I tend to think the worst of them instead of the best and the concept of the benefit of the doubt? Practically non-existant when it comes to them.
... Ok... Uh... Why?
Oh you know, it makes perfect sense once I explain it to you. You'll see. It's because the people I care about can actually hurt and disappoint me. So I see the worst in them so that I won't be too nastily surprised just in case it does happen. Expect the worst and you'll never be disappointed, so they say.
Ok... But are you sure that works with uh... people?
Of course! The same principle applies. I think the worst of them. If there is an incident and anything even hints at it being an indication of bad character, then I take that option and I choose to believe that more than "seeing the good in them" and giving them the benefit of the doubt. Because you never know. If they are really like that or not. So I don't want to be disappointed. *she looks away with a bit of a faraway look* I don't like to be disappointed.
... I can't afford to be wrong about that. I can't afford to be "misled". *Then she clicks Seamus open and said*. It's safer this way.
Oh come on Mademoiselle, that's quite unfair you know. Nobody likes to be seen that way. Nobody likes to have someone think the worst of them and mistake their intentions for something negative. It's quite hurtful.
I know. But they never have to know. I keep my opinions to myself and I am a very good actress when it comes to things like that. That's just for me to live by.
It can show.
It can and it has. But screw it. They can take it. *Again the vacant look* It's not so big a deal really. That's just my system.
... ... ...
So, if you see me being very forgiving about someone character, thinking the best of them and giving them all the benefit of the doubt, which I usually am, it actually means I don't really give a shit about them. *smiles* So even if I turn out to be wrong... *apathetic shrug* Nyeh.
Well... Well.... *crickets chirping* WELL... That's a very interesting point of view you've got actually. I gotta say. It's... interesting.
I know. Isn't it cool? *nonchalantly sips chai*
There was a silent moment then.
"Although..." she says suddenly, slowly, running her fingers in circles around the rim of her cup. "It doesn't mean that I don't have the capacity to love you know. I do."
Well that's a good thing Mademoiselle. :) Sometimes people do stuff and say stuff that may make them seem like something, but the truth can be something else. They may not actually be lying. Mademoiselle isn't. They're being truthful. But sometimes, the truth can be a little bit more complicated. Like Mademoiselle's system as discussed above.
Contemplative moment over, she suddenly looked at me.
"You're not gonna write about this are you?" "It's not good for my image. This, *she gestures* all this."
"Well... I might. I could. I... would. Unless you ask me not to, that is." "Do you really want to be seen that way?"
"It's fine by me."
*shakes head slowly* "You and your wall. You know, sentiments are allowed. And letting people know about them is not such a bad thing. You handle it with such distaste like it's a poison."
"Well, look who's talking." She eyes me over her coffee cup.
"Oh go ahead, it doesn't matter anyway. It's not like they even know who I am." she says with another careless wave.
Yes Mademoiselle. They don't know.
I really do have weird friends.
Saturday, 6 March 2010
Missy, Stop All The Waiting.
Missy, could it be that you in some way enjoy the feeling of being a martyr? Of sacrificing your happiness for someone else's? The feeling of being victimised by the circumstances. And is it because you get a feeling deep down inside, and you tell yourself, that someday all your sacrifices will be recognized and you will finally get your moment in the light?
You have this romantic idea that your life is like a movie. And you're the stepped on heroine of the film that everyone pities and feels for. But at the end of the day you get your own and everyone sees that you're the protagonist of the story after all.
...
Well let me tell you Missy, give it up because it's just rubbish. No one out there really sees your sacrifices and even if they do, as if they actually care. No one's keeping tabs or keeping score and it's not like a point buildup system. Whatever you do, it goes unnoticed or forgotten most of the time and there's no one watching to give you the acknowledgement and credit you deserve. There may be. But it's unlikely.
Maybe you feel that God is watching, and he sees everything you have done for everybody else. Maybe you have faith that he will reward all your sorrow with your own joys someday. Maybe. I am a believer too. But somehow I feel that in this world, we're largely responsible to make our own way as well and God mostly leaves us to it, to work at and build our own lives the way we want it to be. Then He helps it along.
You can't just let go and throw it all up in the air and expect them to get sorted out themselves. I'm not saying it can't happen, it can. And it does on occasion. But at the best, you have to do something to help it along. Just in case it needs that extra push.
So protect yourself Missy. And don't spend your life waiting on the sidelines for a reward that may never come. It's not coming Missy! It's not coming. Give it up. And live for yourself more from now on. Sometimes you gotta seek out your own rewards.
It's a romantic idea. It's a romantic train of thought and a romantic way of looking at things. But it just sounds too much like some cliched Cinderella-story like plot.
It won't happen Missy. So don't count on it.
... But when you look away, life may just surprise you very pleasantly indeed.
You have this romantic idea that your life is like a movie. And you're the stepped on heroine of the film that everyone pities and feels for. But at the end of the day you get your own and everyone sees that you're the protagonist of the story after all.
...
Well let me tell you Missy, give it up because it's just rubbish. No one out there really sees your sacrifices and even if they do, as if they actually care. No one's keeping tabs or keeping score and it's not like a point buildup system. Whatever you do, it goes unnoticed or forgotten most of the time and there's no one watching to give you the acknowledgement and credit you deserve. There may be. But it's unlikely.
Maybe you feel that God is watching, and he sees everything you have done for everybody else. Maybe you have faith that he will reward all your sorrow with your own joys someday. Maybe. I am a believer too. But somehow I feel that in this world, we're largely responsible to make our own way as well and God mostly leaves us to it, to work at and build our own lives the way we want it to be. Then He helps it along.
You can't just let go and throw it all up in the air and expect them to get sorted out themselves. I'm not saying it can't happen, it can. And it does on occasion. But at the best, you have to do something to help it along. Just in case it needs that extra push.
So protect yourself Missy. And don't spend your life waiting on the sidelines for a reward that may never come. It's not coming Missy! It's not coming. Give it up. And live for yourself more from now on. Sometimes you gotta seek out your own rewards.
It's a romantic idea. It's a romantic train of thought and a romantic way of looking at things. But it just sounds too much like some cliched Cinderella-story like plot.
It won't happen Missy. So don't count on it.
... But when you look away, life may just surprise you very pleasantly indeed.
There Is A Beauty In Melancholy. And It Is Felt.
A friend of mine asked me today, why I like to post emo stuff. Probably because he felt that there was an overload of emo content in this blog. And when I tried explaining, ... It got me thinking.
Why do I like to post emo stuff? There must be a reason. It's not so that I am emo ALL the time. Is it because joy has nothing to be spoken of? It is only to be felt and enjoyed?
And as I tried to give an answer, a sudden thought occured to me. Could it be that I actually LIKE emo stuff? Not that I dislike happy stuff, but you catch my drift.
All this time I thought I hated emo stuff. Hated the way it makes people and myself feel. Hated the way it tints the world, hated the way it just creeps in and suddenly you're painfully aware of the existance of your heart. Hated the gloom of it. Hated the sadness of it. Hated the... emoness of it all! I thought I had sworn off emoness and that I was practically phobic of it. Yes, sadness.
Could it be, that I too find a certain beuty in sadness? I inadvertantly found myself expressing so much when I tried to explain. I said that there was a certain poetic quality to sadness. Words and sentences just come together nicely when it speaks of... more melancholic things. And the moments those words were out of my mouth I started. Probably because I never really acknowledged that I felt that way about it and saying it out loud suddenly brings it to your attention.
Another friend once told me too that he found sadness beautiful. And at the time, I could not really understand. I found it difficult to wrap my head around the concept that sadness was beautiful. I mean how can it be? When it makes you feel so crummy? And yet, there was a certain familiarity to his words. I knew what it was, just that I thought I was past that stage, over the whole "sadness is beautiful" thing. I thought I was over being the "emo chick".
But this evening suddenly I realized that I do understand! :o And that I for one, found a beauty in sadness too.
You don't have to love being sad or to like being emo to feel that there is a beauty in melancholy and to appreciate it. I believe no one in this world likes being miserable. And people who feel that way are not necessarily chronic depressive people. It's such an abstract and... odd concept! Truly odd! And so weird. I understand but I don't know how and why I understand and it's just hell to explain! :o *laughs*
There is a beauty in sadness. And it is felt. Not really seen or heard, but felt.
So yeah. Now I get it. :)
My friend, that was a truly interesting question you asked me. *smiles*
Why do I like to post emo stuff? There must be a reason. It's not so that I am emo ALL the time. Is it because joy has nothing to be spoken of? It is only to be felt and enjoyed?
And as I tried to give an answer, a sudden thought occured to me. Could it be that I actually LIKE emo stuff? Not that I dislike happy stuff, but you catch my drift.
All this time I thought I hated emo stuff. Hated the way it makes people and myself feel. Hated the way it tints the world, hated the way it just creeps in and suddenly you're painfully aware of the existance of your heart. Hated the gloom of it. Hated the sadness of it. Hated the... emoness of it all! I thought I had sworn off emoness and that I was practically phobic of it. Yes, sadness.
Could it be, that I too find a certain beuty in sadness? I inadvertantly found myself expressing so much when I tried to explain. I said that there was a certain poetic quality to sadness. Words and sentences just come together nicely when it speaks of... more melancholic things. And the moments those words were out of my mouth I started. Probably because I never really acknowledged that I felt that way about it and saying it out loud suddenly brings it to your attention.
Another friend once told me too that he found sadness beautiful. And at the time, I could not really understand. I found it difficult to wrap my head around the concept that sadness was beautiful. I mean how can it be? When it makes you feel so crummy? And yet, there was a certain familiarity to his words. I knew what it was, just that I thought I was past that stage, over the whole "sadness is beautiful" thing. I thought I was over being the "emo chick".
But this evening suddenly I realized that I do understand! :o And that I for one, found a beauty in sadness too.
You don't have to love being sad or to like being emo to feel that there is a beauty in melancholy and to appreciate it. I believe no one in this world likes being miserable. And people who feel that way are not necessarily chronic depressive people. It's such an abstract and... odd concept! Truly odd! And so weird. I understand but I don't know how and why I understand and it's just hell to explain! :o *laughs*
There is a beauty in sadness. And it is felt. Not really seen or heard, but felt.
So yeah. Now I get it. :)
My friend, that was a truly interesting question you asked me. *smiles*
Thursday, 4 March 2010
The Detriment Of Overthinking Things.
There are certain things where you think about it too much and you lose the instinctive ability to deal with it.
That's just what I found myself saying in a conversation with one of my more neurotic friends. And mind you, it's not neurotic in an endearing way. It's neurotic in an overwhelming, snap-out-of-it-because-I-am-THIS-close-to-slapping-you way. And the way which makes you go -_-" a lot of times sometimes during conversation. This friend overthinks things too much. Too much. *scoffs* But then again, look who's talking. I'm probably not that much better off either, but I am not as bad as that lah.
Exactly what we were talking about which got me saying the sentence above, I cannot remember.
That's just what I found myself saying in a conversation with one of my more neurotic friends. And mind you, it's not neurotic in an endearing way. It's neurotic in an overwhelming, snap-out-of-it-because-I-am-THIS-close-to-slapping-you way. And the way which makes you go -_-" a lot of times sometimes during conversation. This friend overthinks things too much. Too much. *scoffs* But then again, look who's talking. I'm probably not that much better off either, but I am not as bad as that lah.
Exactly what we were talking about which got me saying the sentence above, I cannot remember.
What's So Great About Being Opinionated Anyway?
Mademoiselle was a bit peeved today.
"I don't know what's the great deal about opinionated people!" *scoffs*
Apparently, Mademoiselle has discovered that opinionated can often be equal to stubborn, annoying people. Those who cannot accept the opinions of others because they're always right.
Riiiight... Well, she kinda has a point I guess.
Usually, opinionated and outspoken people tend to go a little bit too far in that direction and end up as bossy, overbearing, I-know-better-than-you people. Sad case lah wei. Why do they always, always have to overshoot? I haven't met one who doesn't.
"I'm probably one myself, although as one I probably wouldn't admit it," Mademoiselle said nonchalantly.
Ok...
But she's right. Some people make too big a deal out of it. I mean just because I do not trumpet out everything I feel and think and then insist people agree with me doesn't mean I don't have my own opinions. Just because I sit there quietly and not say anything, doesn't mean I don't have my own thoughts on the matter. It's just an issue of whether I choose to announce them or not.
But people jump to conclusions too easily. They think if you don't speak up about it, you don't have an opinion. And if you tend to agree with what others say or just go with it because you don't mind, they start thinking you have no stand and can be bent to whomsoever's will. They think you're a follower. Take orders, ask no questions. *slaps forehead*
So then what the hell am I supposed to do? Just dispute everything everyone else says eventhough I agree just so that I can "have my own opinion"? That's just stupid. Just to prove that I have my own mind? It's plain ridiculous. And goes somewhere along the lines of trying too hard as well.
And you know sometimes you contradict yourself and then people look at you like, "This girl's just trying to fit in by agreeing with everything everyone else say." Ok, ok please ah, hat doesn't mean you're a flake with no firm stand. You know how with a proverb, there is almost always another proverb countering it. Same story. It depends on the situation.
So now what? If you're not vocal on the borderline of being too vocal, then people just discount you for a weak-minded bimbo with no opinions of her own. But I don't wanna be one of those too overzealous, opinionated people as well. So yeah, sometimes you just feel that this whole "opinionated" thing is just plain overrated. It does not mean you're definitely smart. People can be vocal and be idiots as well. God knows I've met a few of them.
People should just learn not to jump to conclusions so quickly. There is no shortcut when it comes to understanding people. No matter who it is, no matter how well you think you know them.
"I don't know what's the great deal about opinionated people!" *scoffs*
Apparently, Mademoiselle has discovered that opinionated can often be equal to stubborn, annoying people. Those who cannot accept the opinions of others because they're always right.
Riiiight... Well, she kinda has a point I guess.
Usually, opinionated and outspoken people tend to go a little bit too far in that direction and end up as bossy, overbearing, I-know-better-than-you people. Sad case lah wei. Why do they always, always have to overshoot? I haven't met one who doesn't.
"I'm probably one myself, although as one I probably wouldn't admit it," Mademoiselle said nonchalantly.
Ok...
But she's right. Some people make too big a deal out of it. I mean just because I do not trumpet out everything I feel and think and then insist people agree with me doesn't mean I don't have my own opinions. Just because I sit there quietly and not say anything, doesn't mean I don't have my own thoughts on the matter. It's just an issue of whether I choose to announce them or not.
But people jump to conclusions too easily. They think if you don't speak up about it, you don't have an opinion. And if you tend to agree with what others say or just go with it because you don't mind, they start thinking you have no stand and can be bent to whomsoever's will. They think you're a follower. Take orders, ask no questions. *slaps forehead*
So then what the hell am I supposed to do? Just dispute everything everyone else says eventhough I agree just so that I can "have my own opinion"? That's just stupid. Just to prove that I have my own mind? It's plain ridiculous. And goes somewhere along the lines of trying too hard as well.
And you know sometimes you contradict yourself and then people look at you like, "This girl's just trying to fit in by agreeing with everything everyone else say." Ok, ok please ah, hat doesn't mean you're a flake with no firm stand. You know how with a proverb, there is almost always another proverb countering it. Same story. It depends on the situation.
So now what? If you're not vocal on the borderline of being too vocal, then people just discount you for a weak-minded bimbo with no opinions of her own. But I don't wanna be one of those too overzealous, opinionated people as well. So yeah, sometimes you just feel that this whole "opinionated" thing is just plain overrated. It does not mean you're definitely smart. People can be vocal and be idiots as well. God knows I've met a few of them.
People should just learn not to jump to conclusions so quickly. There is no shortcut when it comes to understanding people. No matter who it is, no matter how well you think you know them.
Debaters Syndrome.
It usually happens to debaters, or people who used to be debaters. I have yet to meet one, not a single one, debater who does not have an attitude problem or rumoured to have attitude problems. More than rumours, people actually practically swear by them. So yes, I haven't met a debater, or an ex-debater who does not have a personality issue.
They're either too overbearing, type A types who always want to be the boss and be in charge, or they can get too argumentative to the point it gets really annoying. The I wanna slap you annoying. They just wanna argue about EVERYTHING! Even the colour of the carpet. And they always have to be right. They also tend to have the better-than-you air about them as they go around. It's quite a joke really. You can call it confidence, or arrogance. I call it arrogance. Confidence is knowing where to draw the line.
The public speaking geeks don't tend to have the problem too badly. They may have it, but mostly it seems on a more minor scale. Not as in-your-face as the debating ones. But of course, there are exceptions.
I raised this question once and my friend said that those people are hated because they know what they want and they stand up for it. And they have the substance to fight for it. Riiiight... But really. The colour of the carpet? Letting that one slide probably wouldn't hurt, or would it? Maybe it'll hurt their pride too much that they'll end up hospitalized for a weak out of a wounded ego. -_-"
I am not denying the truth behind his words, it's possible of course. Just not likely. There're people out there who can know what they want and not step on everyone else at the same time you know. But maybe he's just defending them because he's pretty much one of them. One of the ones remoured to have an attitude problem anyway. I don't know him well enough to really tell.
"I used to be a debater and I don't have that problem," Mademoiselle drawls over her cup of tea. ...
"At least, even if I do, maybe I do, I don't know. I keep it really well hidden."
Yeah... Well that's what I'm here for. I'm your moderating influence. That's the reason you don't have that problem.
"Or, I do have it. Just that I have graduated to a higher level of such arrogance in which I can actually stand to lose an argument because then I just think,
'These hopelessly deluded simpletons. They think they know but they don't actually. Ah well, if they insist, they can stay deluded if they want to. I tried to tell them but *shrugs* it's their choice. A fool speaks loudly and boasts about what he doesn't know.'
and then I laugh." With that, she smiles at me over her teacup.
Ok... My Dear Mademoiselle, thank God you have me.
They're either too overbearing, type A types who always want to be the boss and be in charge, or they can get too argumentative to the point it gets really annoying. The I wanna slap you annoying. They just wanna argue about EVERYTHING! Even the colour of the carpet. And they always have to be right. They also tend to have the better-than-you air about them as they go around. It's quite a joke really. You can call it confidence, or arrogance. I call it arrogance. Confidence is knowing where to draw the line.
The public speaking geeks don't tend to have the problem too badly. They may have it, but mostly it seems on a more minor scale. Not as in-your-face as the debating ones. But of course, there are exceptions.
I raised this question once and my friend said that those people are hated because they know what they want and they stand up for it. And they have the substance to fight for it. Riiiight... But really. The colour of the carpet? Letting that one slide probably wouldn't hurt, or would it? Maybe it'll hurt their pride too much that they'll end up hospitalized for a weak out of a wounded ego. -_-"
I am not denying the truth behind his words, it's possible of course. Just not likely. There're people out there who can know what they want and not step on everyone else at the same time you know. But maybe he's just defending them because he's pretty much one of them. One of the ones remoured to have an attitude problem anyway. I don't know him well enough to really tell.
"I used to be a debater and I don't have that problem," Mademoiselle drawls over her cup of tea. ...
"At least, even if I do, maybe I do, I don't know. I keep it really well hidden."
Yeah... Well that's what I'm here for. I'm your moderating influence. That's the reason you don't have that problem.
"Or, I do have it. Just that I have graduated to a higher level of such arrogance in which I can actually stand to lose an argument because then I just think,
'These hopelessly deluded simpletons. They think they know but they don't actually. Ah well, if they insist, they can stay deluded if they want to. I tried to tell them but *shrugs* it's their choice. A fool speaks loudly and boasts about what he doesn't know.'
and then I laugh." With that, she smiles at me over her teacup.
Ok... My Dear Mademoiselle, thank God you have me.
If I Could Move The Moon... *Smiles* Maybe Not.
I was leaning against my car tonight and looking down the street. People were walking about, in and out of the convenience stores, down the pathways, sitting inside the cyber cafes, mamaks or cafes, etc. It was a nice place to be. I liked the merry-ness of the atmosphere there.
Then I turned behind and looked up and lo and behold, there was the moon. Beautiful, dark yellow, almost orangy, three-quarters full and unobscured by clouds. A clear, unobstructed view of it in the sky above the houses.
And I had a thought.
I wish I could move the moon to the patch of sky in front of me because the place where I was standing was not convenient for moon-gazing. I had to cross the street to get a good view.
But then, I thought.
It's not often that you get moments where you coincidentally receive a full, first class view of the moon exactly where you're standing or sitting without needing to move your position to get a better view. And those moments are such, "Wow... This is just so cool," moments.
So if I were to be able to move the moon wherever I wanted in the night sky, then the appreciation for such moments would significantly decrease and maybe even disappear altogether.
So, no. Sometimes it's nice to just get a pleasant surprise when you lean or sit somewhere and look up into the night sky. It's just like getting a little bonus or a treat to make your day a bit. * smiles*
Then I turned behind and looked up and lo and behold, there was the moon. Beautiful, dark yellow, almost orangy, three-quarters full and unobscured by clouds. A clear, unobstructed view of it in the sky above the houses.
And I had a thought.
I wish I could move the moon to the patch of sky in front of me because the place where I was standing was not convenient for moon-gazing. I had to cross the street to get a good view.
But then, I thought.
It's not often that you get moments where you coincidentally receive a full, first class view of the moon exactly where you're standing or sitting without needing to move your position to get a better view. And those moments are such, "Wow... This is just so cool," moments.
So if I were to be able to move the moon wherever I wanted in the night sky, then the appreciation for such moments would significantly decrease and maybe even disappear altogether.
So, no. Sometimes it's nice to just get a pleasant surprise when you lean or sit somewhere and look up into the night sky. It's just like getting a little bonus or a treat to make your day a bit. * smiles*
Mademoiselle Says.
"God, I hate people who think they're better than everyone else!"
Uh... Don't most people. Maybe a Buddhist monk won't, but then again, maybe a Buddhist monk would lecture such people. Anyhow.
"I've got this acquaintance, she's like so selfish! She insists on whining on and on and on again about her issues, her problems, the SAME issue that cannot be solved, and everyone is just too polite to say it outright that they're just plain not interested, or it's become too much. But then another friend started on their story and she's obviously not interested. And she made it no secret either. God, you gotta hate such selfish people. And she thinks she's the best one at the table. She thinks she handled and handles all her situations superbly, most definitely better than anyone else did anyway. And she's so proud of it. Little does she realize that she's the one who's been deluded for oh so long, it's just that I never wanted to tell her in so many words in case I shattered her poor poor heart or she turns on me and it all turns ugly. By the way, I've learned that friends don't tell friends the truth. Not unless you don't wanna remain friends anymore. So much for gratitude. People just SAY they want to know the truth. But in most cases, deep inside they already have their own opinion on the subject and if your "truth" does not coincide with it, then they deny it with a vengeance."
Ok...
"Anyway, so much for handling that situation superbly. God, she's just so high and mighty! And she thinks her assets are like oh so beautiful, good and well taken care of. Uh... household cleaning appliance anyone??? *incredulous look* Geez!"
... Ok... That was... Passionate.
*Sighs* "It's not that I really have anything against her or anything. She not a bad person. It's just... That character of hers can get really off-putting sometimes. And when she thinks she's so much better than everyone else present at the conversation, it gets patronizing and I don't like that. Who would? So... Yeah. I just needed a rant anyway. Even the best of us do." she says with a nonchalant wave of her stick and blows a cloud of smoke in the air.
Ok, I get you Mademoiselle. We do not like people who're know-it-alls and who think they're better than everyone else.
Personally, I agree. Friendship and loyalty and all, it still is very difficult to ignore stuff like that about someone especially when it's done quite a number of times, over and over again. And the thing is, nobody in their right minds is gonna say it out. Not unless they want a huge catfight or fight on their hands. Mademoiselle is right. People say they want the truth but they don't. Not really. They just don't know it.
So what do you think you should do? What would you do about a similar situation? Keep quiet about it, pretend not to notice or know anything and just grin and bear it? Then when you finally can't take it anymore, bitch behind the person's back and finally walk out on the "friendship"? That was a bit extreme by the way.
Yeah, that's about right. That's probably what most people would do.
Uh... Don't most people. Maybe a Buddhist monk won't, but then again, maybe a Buddhist monk would lecture such people. Anyhow.
"I've got this acquaintance, she's like so selfish! She insists on whining on and on and on again about her issues, her problems, the SAME issue that cannot be solved, and everyone is just too polite to say it outright that they're just plain not interested, or it's become too much. But then another friend started on their story and she's obviously not interested. And she made it no secret either. God, you gotta hate such selfish people. And she thinks she's the best one at the table. She thinks she handled and handles all her situations superbly, most definitely better than anyone else did anyway. And she's so proud of it. Little does she realize that she's the one who's been deluded for oh so long, it's just that I never wanted to tell her in so many words in case I shattered her poor poor heart or she turns on me and it all turns ugly. By the way, I've learned that friends don't tell friends the truth. Not unless you don't wanna remain friends anymore. So much for gratitude. People just SAY they want to know the truth. But in most cases, deep inside they already have their own opinion on the subject and if your "truth" does not coincide with it, then they deny it with a vengeance."
Ok...
"Anyway, so much for handling that situation superbly. God, she's just so high and mighty! And she thinks her assets are like oh so beautiful, good and well taken care of. Uh... household cleaning appliance anyone??? *incredulous look* Geez!"
... Ok... That was... Passionate.
*Sighs* "It's not that I really have anything against her or anything. She not a bad person. It's just... That character of hers can get really off-putting sometimes. And when she thinks she's so much better than everyone else present at the conversation, it gets patronizing and I don't like that. Who would? So... Yeah. I just needed a rant anyway. Even the best of us do." she says with a nonchalant wave of her stick and blows a cloud of smoke in the air.
Ok, I get you Mademoiselle. We do not like people who're know-it-alls and who think they're better than everyone else.
Personally, I agree. Friendship and loyalty and all, it still is very difficult to ignore stuff like that about someone especially when it's done quite a number of times, over and over again. And the thing is, nobody in their right minds is gonna say it out. Not unless they want a huge catfight or fight on their hands. Mademoiselle is right. People say they want the truth but they don't. Not really. They just don't know it.
So what do you think you should do? What would you do about a similar situation? Keep quiet about it, pretend not to notice or know anything and just grin and bear it? Then when you finally can't take it anymore, bitch behind the person's back and finally walk out on the "friendship"? That was a bit extreme by the way.
Yeah, that's about right. That's probably what most people would do.
To You, My Dear Fur Elise. But You Don't Even Know It's You.
I know you don't think much of me because of what I do, the things I say and the way I am. But we're all trying in this world and I may have something that you don't. So don't look at me that way, and don't judge me because you don't know me. Let he who has no sin cast the first stone.
F.E, I wish I could know exactly what you think of me and how to change that because somehow, I don't think it'll be good, or even accurate for that matter. I don't know how I came to give that impression in the first place but that seems to be the way it always goes. I can't seem to give the right impression to the people who matter in that sense. Oh God.
You don't send those tracks to me but you send them to someone you've just met like twice. I know it's nothing but it makes me wonder, hmmm... why? Is it because you don't think I'll appreciate them? And you feel like doing so would be wasted effort?
You never bother to make conversation back. I am at the end of my rope here. There're only so many questions I can ask you and if you don't start talking soon instead of just sitting there and shutting up, well... Oh hell, I've already given up. It's come to the point where I'm too busy thinking of what to say next to keep the conversation going that I'm not even listening to you anymore. You know what desperation is? It looks a bit like that. It feels as if you aren't interested in anyone else but yourself, heck maybe you really aren't. I'm not in for an interview. I want a CONVERSATION. And in my frantic attemps to find SOMETHING to say, I even find myself blurting out painfully obvious things, saying stupid things and parroting what you say, only with a different sentence structure. And everytime I do that, particularly the first and second one, I kick myself over it because I feel so stupid. But finally I realized, it's not my bloody fault! If you would start asking some questions as well like in a NORMAL, equal conversation, I wouldn't have needed to resort to that or I wouldn't be so desperate for something to say that my brain cells all start to malfunction. But then, *shrugs* maybe that's just you.
I begin to wonder, should I even invite you out anymore when I'm in the neighbourhood because if the conversation is as painful for you as it is for me, then you'd groan everytime you see an sms from me. And why do you keep agreeing then? Or are you someone who just finds it hard to say no unless you're really tied up with something? I wish I knew so that if it is so, I can just spare you the misery and not call you out anymore.
What did that question and that statement mean anyway? Is it all just friendly banter and did you end up with your foot in your mouth just because you have nothing else to say, or did you really mean to imply something by it? Do you really see me as that vain and shallow a person? Because seriously, it's got me wondering.
And why did you seem slightly offended when Jimmi made that harmless statement? Is it that bad to be associated with me, or to be said to be enjoying a conversation with me? Is it because you disagree vehemently on that? *scoffs* Is it because you're afraid that I might take it the wrong way and start feeling for you? Or is it merely because you dislike being blamed as a distraction? Are you really THAT sensitive? On this one I am genuinely clueless as to why.
For some reason, I don't even feel comfortable saying out that we have whatever we're talking about in common because I am afraid that you'll just think that I am simply saying it to agree, or make conversation, or to fit in, or to make you like me more or whatever dumb reason there is out there. It's ridiculous. Why does it feel like you have such bad, cruel and harsh judgements of people anyway? Maybe it's because you do.
An image of what you are like as a person has started to build up based on the conversations we've had and I think that by now I've got a pretty clear picture, at least on certain subject matters. I doubt you even know I know this. Based on how things've been going, you probably think I'm absolutely clueless. *rolls eyes* Good Lord. Those times you've tried explaining your thought processes, you think I have no clue what you're talking about and that I don't understand. I can feel it. It could just be paranoia and I could be wrong, but, you know, I'm not. I know and understand about you more than you think I do.
I have no idea what I've done or said that gave such bad impressions but like I said, it always happens this way. Somehow, the impression I give is never right in situations like these. I seriously don't know what to do ady lah. It's like some cruel, sick joke.
Don't write me off just yet, although, look who's talking. I've already pretty much written you off.
F.E, I wish I could know exactly what you think of me and how to change that because somehow, I don't think it'll be good, or even accurate for that matter. I don't know how I came to give that impression in the first place but that seems to be the way it always goes. I can't seem to give the right impression to the people who matter in that sense. Oh God.
You don't send those tracks to me but you send them to someone you've just met like twice. I know it's nothing but it makes me wonder, hmmm... why? Is it because you don't think I'll appreciate them? And you feel like doing so would be wasted effort?
You never bother to make conversation back. I am at the end of my rope here. There're only so many questions I can ask you and if you don't start talking soon instead of just sitting there and shutting up, well... Oh hell, I've already given up. It's come to the point where I'm too busy thinking of what to say next to keep the conversation going that I'm not even listening to you anymore. You know what desperation is? It looks a bit like that. It feels as if you aren't interested in anyone else but yourself, heck maybe you really aren't. I'm not in for an interview. I want a CONVERSATION. And in my frantic attemps to find SOMETHING to say, I even find myself blurting out painfully obvious things, saying stupid things and parroting what you say, only with a different sentence structure. And everytime I do that, particularly the first and second one, I kick myself over it because I feel so stupid. But finally I realized, it's not my bloody fault! If you would start asking some questions as well like in a NORMAL, equal conversation, I wouldn't have needed to resort to that or I wouldn't be so desperate for something to say that my brain cells all start to malfunction. But then, *shrugs* maybe that's just you.
I begin to wonder, should I even invite you out anymore when I'm in the neighbourhood because if the conversation is as painful for you as it is for me, then you'd groan everytime you see an sms from me. And why do you keep agreeing then? Or are you someone who just finds it hard to say no unless you're really tied up with something? I wish I knew so that if it is so, I can just spare you the misery and not call you out anymore.
What did that question and that statement mean anyway? Is it all just friendly banter and did you end up with your foot in your mouth just because you have nothing else to say, or did you really mean to imply something by it? Do you really see me as that vain and shallow a person? Because seriously, it's got me wondering.
And why did you seem slightly offended when Jimmi made that harmless statement? Is it that bad to be associated with me, or to be said to be enjoying a conversation with me? Is it because you disagree vehemently on that? *scoffs* Is it because you're afraid that I might take it the wrong way and start feeling for you? Or is it merely because you dislike being blamed as a distraction? Are you really THAT sensitive? On this one I am genuinely clueless as to why.
For some reason, I don't even feel comfortable saying out that we have whatever we're talking about in common because I am afraid that you'll just think that I am simply saying it to agree, or make conversation, or to fit in, or to make you like me more or whatever dumb reason there is out there. It's ridiculous. Why does it feel like you have such bad, cruel and harsh judgements of people anyway? Maybe it's because you do.
An image of what you are like as a person has started to build up based on the conversations we've had and I think that by now I've got a pretty clear picture, at least on certain subject matters. I doubt you even know I know this. Based on how things've been going, you probably think I'm absolutely clueless. *rolls eyes* Good Lord. Those times you've tried explaining your thought processes, you think I have no clue what you're talking about and that I don't understand. I can feel it. It could just be paranoia and I could be wrong, but, you know, I'm not. I know and understand about you more than you think I do.
I have no idea what I've done or said that gave such bad impressions but like I said, it always happens this way. Somehow, the impression I give is never right in situations like these. I seriously don't know what to do ady lah. It's like some cruel, sick joke.
Don't write me off just yet, although, look who's talking. I've already pretty much written you off.
Tuesday, 2 March 2010
Water: It's Fate I Tell You.
Ok get this. I get into the car with Water and as he turns on the engine, the radio comes on too, and Colbie Caillat's song "Falling For You" was playing. I sang along for a bit, it's a nice song.
We get to a toll, and as he pays the toll attendant, "Don't Stop Believing" by the cast of Glee was playing on the radio channel. I told him about it, we talked about the song for a bit, talked about Glee for a bit, all as he continued driving to the airport.
Now, airport business done, items picked up and dropped off, we got into the car again. And Water turned on the engine again, and voila! "Falling For You" by Colbie Caillat was playing. AGAIN. And it was almost at the same point of the song when the engine came on the first time as well. OK... that was creepy.
We approach another toll, this time on the way back and suddenly, "Don't Stop Believing" by the cast of Glee started playing. AGAIN. And so as Water paid the toll, the song was at about the same point as when he paid the toll the first time! I actually said as I heard the intro, "This sounds a lot like the Glee song. Don't tell me... OMG IT IS!!!" O.O *boggled expression*
Now that, is just plain cool. Water says it's fate. We started the journey to the airport at exactly the point where the radio station was airing "Falling For You" and got to a toll booth at the same point where "Don't Stop Believing" was beginning. We stopped at the airport, spent some time there, and started our journey back at EXACTLY the same time the radio station was re-playing/re-airing the song "Falling For You" and got to a toll booth at EXACTLY the same time the same radio station was re-airing "Don't Stop Believing".
It was ridiculous!!! It was such a coincidence, such a huge coincidence that it was ridiculous!!! Holy shit, that was seriously damn friggin' cool wei.
Water just said, "It's fate." And after some marvelling at the whole incident, I just said too, "Yeah, I guess it is fate." For lack of a better word to describe it. Freaky huh? Amazing huh? It was just so damn bloody cool!!! I just HAD to say something and tell people about it. *grins*
We get to a toll, and as he pays the toll attendant, "Don't Stop Believing" by the cast of Glee was playing on the radio channel. I told him about it, we talked about the song for a bit, talked about Glee for a bit, all as he continued driving to the airport.
Now, airport business done, items picked up and dropped off, we got into the car again. And Water turned on the engine again, and voila! "Falling For You" by Colbie Caillat was playing. AGAIN. And it was almost at the same point of the song when the engine came on the first time as well. OK... that was creepy.
We approach another toll, this time on the way back and suddenly, "Don't Stop Believing" by the cast of Glee started playing. AGAIN. And so as Water paid the toll, the song was at about the same point as when he paid the toll the first time! I actually said as I heard the intro, "This sounds a lot like the Glee song. Don't tell me... OMG IT IS!!!" O.O *boggled expression*
Now that, is just plain cool. Water says it's fate. We started the journey to the airport at exactly the point where the radio station was airing "Falling For You" and got to a toll booth at the same point where "Don't Stop Believing" was beginning. We stopped at the airport, spent some time there, and started our journey back at EXACTLY the same time the radio station was re-playing/re-airing the song "Falling For You" and got to a toll booth at EXACTLY the same time the same radio station was re-airing "Don't Stop Believing".
It was ridiculous!!! It was such a coincidence, such a huge coincidence that it was ridiculous!!! Holy shit, that was seriously damn friggin' cool wei.
Water just said, "It's fate." And after some marvelling at the whole incident, I just said too, "Yeah, I guess it is fate." For lack of a better word to describe it. Freaky huh? Amazing huh? It was just so damn bloody cool!!! I just HAD to say something and tell people about it. *grins*
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