Welcome!: Herelies the problem..

Tuesday, 26 July 2011

Herelies the problem..

Today I finished up a long-overdue proposal (mostly because I’ve been kinda slacking, but pstt, this is just between you and me), and as I drew a relieved sigh, I glanced at the bottom of the page and almost exclaimed unattractively. Holy cow! 17 pages! Seventeen frikkin pages! My words in all their glory..all 17 pages worth of ‘em, in fact.

And yet, I have abandoned this space for a lot longer than I should. And I thought writing leisurely has always been therapeutical! No wonder I’m so stressed with work lately. I just don’t channel the stress the right way.

(Well, I’ve been spending a lot of time with dearie and that should be a stress-free method too, right? Although, every time we do, we stay out late, which results in me not getting enough sleep and probably being even more tired and stressed out the following morning. Oh shit.)

Well anyway. It wasn’t until earlier when my friend said that she hasn’t been visiting my blog recently and I was like, “Err. You’re probably not missing out much since I hardly update it.”

But then as soon as I said it, I felt really, really sad.

No kidding! This really did make me feel sad. There was a point of time I could write my blog every day with anything and everything, and now I can’t even muster a single post because:

I don’t know what to write

I don’t have the time to write

I’m always feeling uninspired

And somehow these three reasons don’t make me feel better at all.

As if it’s not bad enough that I’m losing the motivation to write, I seem to lose my otherwise brilliant, witty writing personality as well. Without it, what else do I have?

I better tell my boyfriend right away. He should know what he’s getting himself into. I’m no longer the bright and creative soul he once knew and loved.

It’s sad that I could churn up 17 pages worth of words (albeit, probably not very interesting), but I couldn’t even do a single post.

Ladies and gentlemen, what has this world become?

Hm. See? Even now I’m struggling to find something interesting to say. Do I talk about the recent awesome weekend I had with dearie when we went to watch Lion King the Musical and Harry Potter on IMAX? About how emotional I was during the scene when Harry realized he had to die, until I could feel tears forming in my eyes, and then feel slightly embarrassed about it, because. Oh well, you just don’t cry from seeing Harry Potter. You just don’t. I’m already a sissy as it is.

Ah yes. I guess I could talk about that. Or maybe I could touch a bit about how last week during work I had to sing a song in front of everyone..alone? Imagine the horror. And about how after that ‘incident’, my colleague made a poster that read “Christina, we believe! The next Singapore Idol!” and pasted it on the wall. He’s forgetting that I’m not even a Singaporean but of course no one really gave a rat’s ass about it.

What about the weekend before that when we went to Universal Studio and had a great evening reminiscing being a kid, taking rollercoasters and screaming on the top of our lungs like there was no tomorrow? (oh wait. That was just me. See, I told ya I’m a sissy.)

Or maaaaybe. I could write about my Italy adventure?

THERE! It’s not like I have nothing to write. Now I recognize the core of the problem.

I’m just a lazy ass.

Hurray!

Now I can go back to thinking that deep down I’m still very much witty, adorable, smart and all those traits are just waiting to burst out in the open again real, real soon! Yay! Now my boyfriend will love me again!

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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.