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Friday 6 June 2008

Bloody Essay, Bloody Friend

I swear it's the most painful six-pages essay I have ever written, and not to mention, the hardest. These past few days you know I've been struggling hard with it, and by the look of it, you might think that I had to write a presidential speech or something just from reading how difficult and painfully slow my progress has been. So yeah, yeah, you can roll your eyeballs now because no, it's not a presidential speech, and no, it's not a hundred pages.

Truth be told? I'm supposed to just write a 6-8 pages essay on 9/11 and american character. I bet you people are laughing now. I could ramble on and on when I was writing my philosophy assignment and reached 27 pages-mark even when the requirement was only 10-15 pages (to be fair, I didn't know that), and I barely made it to six pages now?!

Don't tell me I've lost my writing ability 'cos I would cry, literally. But it's kinda depressing to know. I'm not just the most unpolitical person ever, but apparently also not very versatile because it boils down to apart from writing about myself, I can't write about anything else. (Yes, how self-centered is that?) Personally, I'm not even interested in reading about myself, let alone you. Can you just hand me that apron and spare me the misery of struggling and trying to reach my dream blah blah.

Okay, that is even more depressing. But, well, I intend to finish the essay today, yes people, today! As in, in the next 6 hours (seeing it's already 6.30 pm now..I don't have much time, do I? You know, minus the time for dinner, tv break, blogging time, etc, etc..) Yes, I'm determined! I can do it, I can do it! I've survived the humiliation of grabbing a stranger's hand before, I definitely certainly can handle a 6-8 pages essay on american politics! Of course I can!

On the note that is so totally unrelated to what I've been ranting about in the last five minutes, it's just a picture from last Wednesday night.

I think I deserved a big ol' drink after rotting at home in front of my laptop trying to compose a decent sentence with the word 'iraq' and 'weapon of mass destruction' and 'bush' without sounding way too awkward. Talk about being a fish out of water. I'm the fish. The water's whatever insignificant topics I usually write about. You get the picture.

Anyway, something irritating happened today and let me just give you an update on that. Basically, a friend of mine that I have known for...I don't know, 2 years? I haven't seen him in the longest time and weeks ago I texted him, not knowing anything about the new things in his life, and he replied me saying he had a girlfriend already and that I shouldn't text him again because his girlfriend doesn't like the idea. I was like, HELLO? I was responding to HIS message on friendster?! Besides, what did I say? Did I propose? Did I confess my love? I mean, for goodness' sake. I asked him what's up and his girlfriend went all paranoid as if I was interested to wreck their holy relationship. Please. So I did what everyone else would. I sent one final pissed-off message and decided to erase him from my life, forever. Someone like that is just not worth your friendship.

He texted me a few days ago which I ignored, of course. And this morning he sent another. Feeling rather generous I replied back with the sharpest sarcasm there was in me. Yes, that was me being generous. I still replied, didn't I? And know what's truly upsetting? He sent me another reply telling me his girlfriend was the one sending me a message weeks ago, and that he still wanted to keep in touch with me because...well, this is the best part. Not because he still thought of me as a friend. Wait, not because he realized friendship was more important than relationship. Nope. Guess why?! Guess! I dare you!

Because "my girlfriend and I are having cold war". QUOTED. His words, not mine. COLD WAR?! COLD WAR??!!!! What the hell?! You've been seeing too much documentary film, you think? And that was the reason why you suddenly wanted to BE MY FRIEND again?!

Well, fuck you.

You know what, I can't believe I'm even talking about this. I feel sorry for both of them, maybe they deserve each other afterall. For all I care, I don't even wanna know.

Eric's going to Beijing today, by the way. Lucky bastard. Of course I'm saying it with deepest affection. The guy's playing football over there, he looks harmless and all but he's the most athletic person I know. Football, rugby, hiking, I don't know where he gets all that energy from. If I hike, I would faint, like, seriously. But believe it or not, I've hiked before, not here obviously, but back in Jakarta, my family would go to those tea-walk events with the church, okay, they called it 'tea walk' not 'hiking' but what's the difference, right? Plus if we had an outing with school, we would always hike. But I can honestly say it was fun hiking with the school program because we were doing it in groups and the guys would walk right in the front and in the back to sort of look after the girls as the route could be pretty sloppy and dangerous. Ah, fun times. Those teenage crush and hormones.

Are we still talking about hiking here? Not quite sure.

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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.