Well that’s that. You said your last words–always the last one, oh typical you.
Oh, typical you.
Well that’s that. You said your last words–always the last one, oh typical you.
Oh, typical you.
What I am supposed to do in a situation where I’m in love with an idea? Where I feel I have nothing further to contribute to society other than something outrageous–something that will never cause any one any good, including myself?
A mania overcame my being today that directed any possible emotion into hate for boys and for food. Useless moodiness, really, but here we are.
If you were to ask me if I believe in love at first sight, I’d want to slap you and then myself because yes of course but it will never happen to me again. However, it is FINE in the real sense of the word not the passive connotation normally affiliated with someone with a vagina using it. Why, you may ask? Because that is not the kind of love I choose to value. I choose to value friendships and people who bring me up, not people who attract me just to bring me down. I’d rather have five close friends and have my independent time than waste my life with someone I’m only with because the idea of our first interaction still haunts occasional waking moments. In moments like these, ones of weakness, one must hit the ‘skip’ button and remember why it’s like this.
If you were to give me my favorite food in the world right now I would probably take it but spit out every bit of it after enjoying it so like whatever I’m drinking hot chocolate and wine for the rest of my life.
Also I’m rewatching British Skins.
A lot of us, until a certain point in our lives, have known only what is in front of us in the moment. Reflection is external, blame is essential, nothing is our own fault. Reaching the next moment of growth doesn’t require only looking to future possibilities–but taking a trip down our past to see what mistakes we can learn from–the ones that impact us the most. Sometimes, we may not even register them as mistakes, but whatever you want to call the demons that haunt your dreams (the exact same that created many of your secrets), they can be exchanged for something different. This idea you hold captive; an idea that in turn, grips you back. An idea that manifests the morbid delusion of reality you’ve constructed as a barrier against all reason. Perhaps, in this moment, it’s time to let go and realize that perfection is only imagined. The idea of letting go of an idea is often prolonged and who knows perhaps it will be there forever. Detaching the infatuation to realize the reality you’ve been missing all along, no longer burying your head in the sand in hopes that everyone was wrong.
Here we go. I’m coming back.
every day i witness some miracle happen in someones lives where they finally accomplish what theyve been working so hard to achieve. it seems also, to me, that every day a different friend exits my life. it also seems that, every day, while every one is out there making it happen, the hardest thing i could possibly do is leave my own bed.
i probably wont post for awhile.
“The softness and fragility of baby animals caused us the same intense pain.
She wanted to be a nurse in some famished Asiatic country; I wanted to be a famous spy.”
- Vladimir Nobokov, Lolita
She lowered her book from above her head and placed it on her chest, taking in the words she had read. We all have strange moments in life where the change of season, the color of the sky, the taste of the air, a certain phrase triggers an indescribable sensation that causes a rapid train of thought.
The description of inaccessible love is constantly being updated with each innocent, devastating interaction with the person you’re most drawn to in that moment. This person could end up being your best friend, a temporary friend, a lover, or even your absolute worst enemy. They are further away from your current situation as they could possibly be. Turning that moment of painful desire into actuality is out of reach, and this knowledge is mutual. By chance it’s as glamorous as Nobokov’s description, a flamboyant actress and the anti-social research type…maybe it’s a lonely girl dreaming of a world in which mythical creatures exist, or perhaps it’s two average citizens who just can’t imagine how this could possibly work. We’ve all been there at one time, she thought to herself–and if you haven’t yet, it’s likely you will. It’s not anyone’s fault, really…these things, they just happen. It’ll riddle your mind for days because many times, it’s the last person on earth you’d expect. “Every day, people like myself scan over the crowds we surpass, only taking note of those we think we’re directly related to–the fashionista down the street, the interesting looking girl with the cool hair who I’d definitely be friends with…people like us never stop in our tracks for the average Joe. Why would someone so accustomed to glitter, be attracted to rust? Or, why would someone on their way up ever look down?” This train of thought, She
discovered, is detrimental…how many opportunities in disguise had she passed by in her life? “Many, I’m sure.”. The nice guy trying to compliment her only to be met with a terrible attitude and unattractive ego; the shy girl reaching out to someone who seems approachable only to be let down.
A change of scenery helps in many respects–this being one of them. It doesn’t mean that everything she left behind was suddenly thrown away…more so that she returned after disappearing with a different perspective, a new lens. “Learning to be selfless in moderation comes with time and experience, I suppose; getting yourself hurt by being completely selfless creates a selfish
monster who hurts anyone who gets in their way.” This, she realized, was a crucial step to achieving empathy.
Allowing her lack of control to be the dominant factor in the recent events in her life, all she could really do was reminisce on the last few months to figure out how she can move forward from such a change of pace. “I’ve met such wonderful people–it’s a shame they’re not where I am going“…but then again, perhaps that isn’t the case–there’s a chance that part of the beauty is that they were only meant to be there for a brief time, “they were there when I needed them, and that’s what makes them beautiful“. She continued looking back on the last conversation she had with a dear friend she had made and in that moment, realized the gravity of the
situation–that perhaps she had not just broken his heart, but a bit of her own as well.
Allowing herself to confide in people had never been much of an issue, she had always had a good sense of who was trustworthy and
who was not. They were both sensible and realistic people with a little bit of crazy thrown into the mix, and that’s why they got along so well. It was never “like that“, she thought to herself, but the pain behind the way he said goodbye was undeniably complex and “I’ll miss you” illustrated by his facial expression spelled out how much of a shame he must have thought it was that she was leaving. She had always been the girl who got away, but this time she was the girl who was leaving with a pang of guilt for the way her company had affected such a genuine human. They both knew it was goodbye for good, no use in pretending their hilarious hangouts with their ridiculous friends would exceed any further. It was goodbye, “hug?”, and see you never.
“Funny”, she thought to herself, “how most people in life come in to affect your idea of the way things are for better, or for worse…but now, I’ve had someone come in and change nothing at all–just the way I look at things. And that, I think, is worth more than anything I could ever ask for”.
I work at a call center (until tomorrow–FREEDOM!). I shall not state which one nor which douche-tastic service provider I represent, but I will tell you this–sometimes, I wonder. I wonder if some people really are aware of the world around them–ya know, how shit works, for example. A co-worker of mine told me today that a woman who called into customer service line wouldn’t give the agent a full name or address until the agent provided theirs as well—wut.
a) “Certainly ma’am, this is my full name and exact address including postal code. Plug it into your GPS and pick me up at let’s say, 6 for dinner? Then you can tell me ALL ABOUT how much you hate the company I work for. Sound good?”
b) “I’d love to give you the tools you need to stalk me and bomb my call center. Please hold the line while I inform the manager of the need for an evacuation. Hold the line, please!”
c) “If you represented a service provider with which I had an account with, I’d be happy to fulfill that request. All my shits in my locker, so calm your shit and stop being so damn craycray.”
Which option do you think she should have used?
You’re at a funeral home. You’re trying not to let the loss of your Grandmother get to you in front of your extended family, their kids, and their kids dogs/dolls/etc. You walk into the room of the wake and are met with a thousand old people and beeline towards the one family member there that you actually have regular contact with. While standing awkwardly still trying not to be in the way, a sensation of impending doom takes over your body–no, you’re not having a panic attack–you’re encountering the inevitable “do you remember me?!” session from the overly nice older lady from across the room whose eyes just lit up at the sight of you. You wait as she rounds up the great aunties and sister in law twice removed thing who’s a doctor in some weird upper Canadian town and try to look pleasant when they all rush over to you.
Annnnnnnd it starts…
“WELL HELLO THERE! You’ve grown up SO MUCH since I last saw you! I remember you when you were THIS SMALL (declines hand to the height of her knee). It’s been SO lonnnnng! Do you remember me?”. This is the moment that makes or breaks your reputation in your extended family–even though you don’t know their damn names. While you make the decision you can’t lie because it’s just as offensive if you guess the completely wrong name (heaven forbid assign them a made-up name linked to a disowned family member), you match their patient, sincerely curious smile with “Hah, you’ll have to remind me–it’s been awhile.” Then, just as we all knew the entire time, they all engage in glorious unified laughter because it was blatantly obvious that I had no clue.
Can someone please explain to me why people feel the need to go through this process? Why not just waltz up to me with “Hi, my name is Auntie Jen, you don’t remember me because I only met you as a baby, but I thought I’d say hello”?. I don’t get it. The last time this happened (it was multiple occurrences in 24 hours and I had already hit my awkward moment quota for that day), I responded with “huh. I don’t like this game”, which resulted in the same glorious, unified laughter aforementioned. The douchebag in me always wants to respond with “Yes, actually, your name is _____! I remember because of my superhuman powers which allowed my brain development to store memory at a dangerously early age. It was a rainy spring’s day, May I believe. You were wearing your white pearl necklace and matching clip-on earrings. Nice to finally see you again.”
I’m looking for a new job (refer back to item #1 in “Things that make my brain hurt”) and trying to find a decent posting in the sea of classifeids is like sifting for gold in an ashtray. One that … Continue reading