Welcome!: Ramblings. What's New?

Friday, 18 January 2008

Ramblings. What's New?

I have nothing to blog about these days, people. I'm young and alive (!!!) and the only interesting thing I can tell you is, that I have just been 'busy' in front of my pc trying to make sense of this facebook thingy, and dare I say it, failing miserably. What happened to Friendster? Why does everyone bug me to join facebook where I have to again, write introductionary profiles and 'about me' noone has ever read anyway, post pictures noone would ever pay attention to more than once, add yet another contacts and friends whom I already have in my Friendster account to begin with? God forbids, some 500 plus of them, to be exact?

But I'm not complaining, thanks to this thing, I actually have something to do! And I'm ashamed to admit it, but so far I'm not doing that good. See, I wrote in my own wall, I setted up all these applications which purposes were apparently lost on me, and my profile at the moment looks like I (a) have no social life, (b) have no friends, (c) am simply pathetic.

Aside from being so retardedly-challenged in technology department, I am doing good. I'm not such a mess anymore (like when I wrote that stupid emotional whatever I posted before), and I'm climbing straight up to 'okayness'. I'll be fine, I'm sure of that. They say time is the best healer, well, in this case, facebook helps a little too. At least it keeps my mind off things.

But I honestly haven't been doing much as I should have. You know, I have yet rise up to star-dom, so what is there to tell? Me going to library a few days ago? Yeah, right, you would have rather shoot yourself before you actually pretended to be interested. I should be insulted, but I wouldn't inflict that upon myself, let alone you.

So instead, I would just say something real quick. Why is it, that most of the time, people worry about you more than you worry about yourself? Me, personally. I'm someone who absolutely has no sense of danger. When I got really sick, I would think of it as just a temporary cold which would pass immediately. When a guy got me alone in a room, I would say that he just wanted to talk, or recite poems. When I bled, I would shrug it off. Do I make sense? It's like, people around me are a lot more concerned about my well-being and my safety more than I can say for myself. And it's not like I don't care, or that I consciously look for danger, but I think I have always belittled things, you know. The weird thing is, I only do that to myself. Why do I feel as if I'm invisible to danger? I mean, do I have to be raped first before I realize that I shouldn't be alone in a room with guys I barely know? You see, that's just the extreme example. Back home, I got this awful red eye for weeks, and it was only after a while that I had the initiative to go to the doctor to get it checked. And he told me I got an infection, which should be quite serious if it was left untreated. He gave me some eyedrops and asked me go back to him after a week. Did I go back there after a week? Bummer, no. My dad was crazy about it, he kept scolding me but I never got around to it. In the end, fortunately, everything is okay now but it could just easily be not okay. The virus could possibly still be there, looming in my eyes, waiting for the time to hatch again (ew!) but even I can't understand why couldn't I just go to the doctor and get it over with, for good. I don't know. But not having a sense of danger is dangerous, man.

Ah. I just got my result for my philosophy subject. You remember that? All the discussion on Aristotle, Plato, Ethics of happiness, Utilitarian, John Stuart Mill, Archaic culture? Well, okay, you got the point. I did the final assignment back home, and I remembered talking to my friend a few days ago about it, he said the teacher only wanted like, 12 pages max, and he wanted it in double-spacing, although beats me, how did I not know that? I was in the class too, wasn't I? Then why did I write some 27-pages-narcissistic-piece on 'the world according to me' and in single spacing, some more? I was so convinced I would get a C or something. No teacher would wanna read some ramblings from a student when he already told the class he only wanted twelve-pages-paper, although the student could defend herself that she absolutely had no idea about it. It's because all you did in my class is talk, talk, talk, and talk!

Which I don't think is true. I think I made a very good student, despite my coming to class late a few times, and cutting the second half of lecture once in every blue moon. Bollocks!

Considering all those aspects, I guess it's a good thing I had an A-minus. Although, what is the minus for? It's like, the paper is so brilliant, but the teacher was having a bad day when he marked it, so 'ah, let me add a MINUS in it because I'm not feeling so gorgeous today...'

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Quotes

There's a hundred million different ways of writing, and it takes you a long time to sort through that stuff. And I think it takes anyone a long time to find a voice.

You must learn to take the good with the bad, the happy with the sad, love what you’ve got and remember what you had. Learn to forgive, but never forget, learn from your mistakes but never regret. People change and things go wrong, but you just have to remember that life goes on.

The day before I’m supposed to be meeting Caroline for a drink, I develop all the textbook symptoms of a crush: nervous stomach, long periods spent daydreaming, an inability to remember what she looks like. I can bring back the dress and the boots, and I can see her bangs, but her face is a blank.

I don't know, I think that if I could just accept the fact that my life is supposed to be difficult. You know, that's what to be expected, then I might not get so pissed-off about it and I'll just be glad when something nice happens.

I can see now I never really committed to Laura. I always had one foot out the door, and that prevented me from doing a lot of things, like thinking about my future and... I guess it made more sense to commit to nothing, keep my options open. And that's suicide. By tiny, tiny increments.

There's a big fucking world out there. It's messy, and it's chaotic, and it's never, never ever the thing you'd expect. It is ok to be scared, but you cannot allow your fears to turn you into an asshole, not when it comes to the people that love you, the people that need you.

Maybe what I'm saying is, is the world might be evolving the way a person evolves. Right? Like, I mean, me for example. Am I getting worse? Am I improving? I don't know. When I was younger, I was healthier, but I was, uh, whacked with insecurity, you know? Now I'm older and my problems are deeper, but I'm more equipped to handle them.

I am nothing special; just a common man with common thoughts, and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten. But in one respect I have succeeded as gloriously as anyone who's ever lived: I've loved another with all my heart and soul; and to me, this has always been enough.

Later that day I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous.

A woman needs to be held, even, and science has shown this, if its with someone she doesn't care about. Protective hormones are released, and the amount of hormones released depends on the degree to which she is held. The first and best is the complete surround. He wraps you in both arms, whispers how beautiful you are. Second best is the 'arm around.' He is next to you but with one arm around you. Third is he's just next to you on his elbow, but he rests his hand on your stomach and looks at you. Fourth is you snuggling up to him with your head on his chest, while he looks away into space. But when the first best happens, you feel completely, wonderfully like a woman.

So, so what, so fuck off, go home, leave you alone? I'll tell you something Paul, there isn't anything that I've wanted for eighteen years, cause I was a kid eighteen years ago. And if I did still want the same things I'd think I'd gone wrong somewhere, because actually I don't want to marry David Cassidy, I don't want bigger tits, I don't want to do better on my marks. I've stopped worrying about that kind of thing and maybe you should try.

Well maybe there's a big bit of you that's gone missing somewhere, maybe everyone should want something they've always wanted.

Why is it that adults aren't supposed to go mad about anything? You gotta keep a lid on it. And if you don't then people are apparently entitled to say what they like. "You haven't grown up. You're a moron. Your conversation is trivial and boorish. You can't express your emotional needs. You can't relate to your children." And you die, lonely and miserable. But you know, what the hell, every cloud has a silver lining.

I just woke up one morning and didn't feel the same way. Where did it go? It was like there had been a lot of food on a plate in front of us, and we ate it all really quickly, and then there was nothing left. Maybe that's how couples stay together: they're not greedy. They know that what they have in front of them has to last a long time, so they kind of pick at it. I hope it's not like that, though. I hope that when people are happy together, it feels as though someone keeps piling seconds and thirds on their plates.

That is what I have learned: Sex is destructive. Love is nothing to be fooled with. I learned that I was dangerous, not to be trusted. I wondered if my parents were right, with all of their stiff lovelessness. Maybe they knew better. My parents don't dole out love for the deserving or the undeserving. I was learning that love could cost me.

You could say all you liked about reason and logic and common sense and imagination, but when the chips were down, the one skill you needed was the ability to think about absolutely nothing whatsoever.

There is a comfort in never making an effort, but it's a lonely comfort. What keeps you going is the knowledge that you're only playing with only four cards showing. But when you see other people succeeding with their mediocre hands, you have to make a decision. If you turn over that final card you're certain of victory, but it also means you have nothing in reserve.

I’d gone through life believing in the strength and competence of others; never in my own. Now, dazzled, I discovered that my capacities were real. It was like finding a fortune in the lining of an old coat.

Maybe we all live life at too high a pitch, those of us who absorb emotional things all day, and as mere consequence we can never feel merely content: we have to be unhappy, or ecstatically, head-over-heels happy, and those states are difficult to achieve within a stable, solid relationship.