Welcome!: I may be imperfect, but I'm perfectly me.

Sunday, 28 February 2010

I may be imperfect, but I'm perfectly me.

Growing up is a funny thing. And let me tell you why.

You remember when we were small at how we all used to write things in our tiny little secretive journals? How we made everyone swear in the name of their most valuables that they would never take a peek into our diaries because oh, what we wrote was so scandalous and juicy? Yep, even when the most exciting thing in our lives that we could write about was our secret crush on the boy next door? No, not the gardener, this isn’t Desperate Housewives, please. Anyway, you know, that sort of thing?

Well, I was one of those people. Even as a child, I was a diary-junkie. I kept journals, in fact, a whole lot of them because I would get bored of writing in the same diary for a long period of time so after like, a month or so of writing almost everyday in the same book, I would get that itch to buy another one and start new in those fresh untouched papers and that’s the vicious cycle. I know, short attention span, right? Well, okay, so the old diaries (and every one of them all became old eventually) were always put to waste because they weren’t even full yet. Being somewhat of a geek, I’ve always loved stationary and the best shopping spree ever to me was buying sets of new colorful pens and organizers. Hey, there are a lot worse addictions out there, okay! Pens are so less harmful, and at least they’re cheap! My dad wouldn’t have headache this often if my obsession now is only limited to papers and pencils. So, anyway, I had up to ten journals and rereading all those entries again when I’m at least eight years older (much less-dramatic and more realistic, I hope) is amusing and embarrassing at the same time.

In addition to being an ungrateful spoiled little brat (for wasting papers and therefore, contributing towards the early stage of global warming), I was also a complete list-freak. I would make a list of everything I could possibly make a list out. And I couldn’t just do that in mind, I had to write them all and perhaps I did that because I just loved to write too much so everything I felt had to be written down, I don’t know. Or maybe I was just simply a freak who has some kind of compulsive disorder. Well, anyway, I re-opened all my journals, and the oldest that I could find was from 1999 and I couldn’t believe how funny I sounded! I listed everything, from all the books I owned (as if I wanted to open a library or something), magazines, cassettes, favorite film characters, television shows, and oh geez, I’m so ashamed, top three guys whom I wanted to marry in the future.

I wrote all sorts of ridiculous things, but reading all of these again reminds me of how naïve and free and innocent I was. Okay, maybe not so innocent since I have been thinking of marrying someone when I was only, what, 12?

I guess in a way I forgot about that. I forgot about the way I used to be, the way I used to think and write, the way I used to feel. I forgot about how crazy I was towards The X-Files (okay, David Duchovny in specific), and Joshua Jackson, and Hewitt the tennis player, and Seifer from Final Fantasy, and Brian from the Backstreet Boys; I forgot how obsessive I got to comic books and Sweet Valley novels; I forgot how nauseatingly girly I got when I had crush on the boy next door (seriously, he has the fairest thigh I have ever seen! Oops, not that I have seen a lot. How could I get to take a look at his thigh? Oh chill, it was a coincidence, he just happened to appear in shorts when I happened to drop by to his house, okay, Completely and utterly coincidental. Geez, I was 17.) I had a lot of funny thoughts that I expressed in writings and now, years from then, it's hard to believe it was me who wrote these all.

But at the same time, it's almost like I could still understand it somehow. Even though I couldn’t put a finger as to why I could get so engrossed to certain things, I could understand, almost remember, that they were indeed very important at one point in my life.

It seemed like a long time ago but then again, maybe not so much. I guess I can still be that dramatic sometimes, it’s just the subject of my obsession is more justifiable now. Is it, really? Well, it’s funny that no matter how older you become, deep inside you’re still the same. I mean, okay, so I was obsessed with comics when I was 14 and I’m not anymore, but do I still like comics? Sure, I still read comics from time to time, the difference is just if there aren’t any, I wouldn’t go looking for it, and I sure wouldn’t spend all my pocket money on them like I used to.

And yeah, I might be crazily in love with Joshua Jackson and David Duchovny back in time, but do I still think they are good-looking now? Sure. I wouldn’t say, “Oh my goodness, they scared the beejezus out of me!” but I wouldn’t go around looking for their posters anymore. You know what I mean? Come to think of it, my interests are still the same, it’s just that the comic books are replaced by novels; and television series with only bunch of good looking actors are substituted by movies and series with good story lines.

I would still watch Buffy and think that it’s good, but I wouldn’t think the world is going to fall on me if I miss just one episode. And I still like writing in colorful pens, it’s just that I have so many leftovers I don’t feel the overwhelming urge to buy new ones just yet, unlike that time when I was in high school that I just kept buying and buying until my pencil case was the size of pregnant stomach of a cow and everyone in class could just borrow pens from me and I still had enough to sell and use the money to buy candies to feed the entire third world countries.

And I'm certainly still a little list-freak and an ever bigger stationery and writing-nerd.

So yeah. Does this all make sense? I guess there's a line in Before Sunset when one of the character says, "Nothing in the world could change our disposition". I mean, the basic nature of a person. There's another quote that says, "On the whole, the happiest people seem to be those who have no particular cause for being happy except that they are so." I believe that we don't really change that much at all.

I worry I've been writing too much already, so forgive me. I'm kinda thinking out loud and yeah, it's very interesting, don't you think? You've outgrown yourself in a lot of ways, but in essentials, in your most basic nature, you are almost exactly the same.

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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.