Ceased to exist before it began. I lied. There was no magic moment to write of, none that occurred recently. None that have occurred in a while barring the Christmas miracle that considerably improved my prospects for merrymaking this holiday season.
"Fuck! You think like that too hobo?". A dear friend of mine, someone I've been sharing myself with as honestly as I face up to myself, for nearly 8 years now suffers from a problem. A sweet "such a boy you are bebe" problem. Though in my experience it's not always boys who suffer from it. He much like me finds it difficult to talk about his greatest fears and vulnerabilities. And like yours truly he spends each day, each aching moment in paranoid awareness of those fears and vulnerabilities. I suspect this inability, ineptitude, comes from the burden of self-styled expectations that we have failed and to admit to having had failed them. People who tell either of us that we're too hard on ourselves, I suspect, want too little from life. They want happiness. We want success. Because we both gave up on chasing happiness a long time ago.
Well now that I'm a few years older and have weathered a few more bruises than the average 24 year old I do realise that the two aspirations needn't be pitted in such oppositional terms. By the way I mean really average 24-yr old. I'm not trying to equate my struggles or miseries to those who live in abject poverty and/or war-torn territories or with incurable maladies or with the lack of space to make their own choices for many reasons, but to those of say an Archie Andrews if he were 24. What's got my goat this time round is that I don't think I'm either successful or happy. At least by my standards. So yeah bebe, I think like that too. You say I'm wrong about me. I say you're wrong about yourself. But we both agree that we're at the zenith of self-absorption. ;) I'm probably on a higher peak because I have this blog is about ME.
I know it's stupid to think like this! I know it! But I can't help it. Self-loathing and self-doubt are my longest addictions and ones I have to keep on quitting, if you get my drift. I don't know too many people, women especially, who'd keep shifting with bag and baggage all over the world in search of the latest thrill and I do that. It requires courage and of course I acknowledge that about me. I'm also aware that the world, my tiny universe of say a 1000 people, perceives me as 'smart, funny, attractive, bold, intimidating, on her way to success with porn star boobs to add some bounce'. But I don't view myself from that lens. Even if I am smarter than the average bear, it's nothing. That's an average bear and it's easy to beat. I'm funny more often than not because I am irreverent, impolite, crude and given to mouthing things that most people would have too much dignity to say. Attractive? Hah! Sure. I am a failure to my own belief system. Because despite all fierce proclamations to seek out the independent life and to define my self-worth according to the self, I feel like a failure because I am careening towards 25 with no direction, no life partners, no idea of what next and that sucks.
This is the lack of love in my life speaking. I'd be happy with everything if I wasn't so alone. If I hadn't such a miserable relationship record. And if the 6 ft 6" whole in my universe was still occupied by him.
"Fuck! You think like that too hobo?". A dear friend of mine, someone I've been sharing myself with as honestly as I face up to myself, for nearly 8 years now suffers from a problem. A sweet "such a boy you are bebe" problem. Though in my experience it's not always boys who suffer from it. He much like me finds it difficult to talk about his greatest fears and vulnerabilities. And like yours truly he spends each day, each aching moment in paranoid awareness of those fears and vulnerabilities. I suspect this inability, ineptitude, comes from the burden of self-styled expectations that we have failed and to admit to having had failed them. People who tell either of us that we're too hard on ourselves, I suspect, want too little from life. They want happiness. We want success. Because we both gave up on chasing happiness a long time ago.
Well now that I'm a few years older and have weathered a few more bruises than the average 24 year old I do realise that the two aspirations needn't be pitted in such oppositional terms. By the way I mean really average 24-yr old. I'm not trying to equate my struggles or miseries to those who live in abject poverty and/or war-torn territories or with incurable maladies or with the lack of space to make their own choices for many reasons, but to those of say an Archie Andrews if he were 24. What's got my goat this time round is that I don't think I'm either successful or happy. At least by my standards. So yeah bebe, I think like that too. You say I'm wrong about me. I say you're wrong about yourself. But we both agree that we're at the zenith of self-absorption. ;) I'm probably on a higher peak because I have this blog is about ME.
I know it's stupid to think like this! I know it! But I can't help it. Self-loathing and self-doubt are my longest addictions and ones I have to keep on quitting, if you get my drift. I don't know too many people, women especially, who'd keep shifting with bag and baggage all over the world in search of the latest thrill and I do that. It requires courage and of course I acknowledge that about me. I'm also aware that the world, my tiny universe of say a 1000 people, perceives me as 'smart, funny, attractive, bold, intimidating, on her way to success with porn star boobs to add some bounce'. But I don't view myself from that lens. Even if I am smarter than the average bear, it's nothing. That's an average bear and it's easy to beat. I'm funny more often than not because I am irreverent, impolite, crude and given to mouthing things that most people would have too much dignity to say. Attractive? Hah! Sure. I am a failure to my own belief system. Because despite all fierce proclamations to seek out the independent life and to define my self-worth according to the self, I feel like a failure because I am careening towards 25 with no direction, no life partners, no idea of what next and that sucks.
This is the lack of love in my life speaking. I'd be happy with everything if I wasn't so alone. If I hadn't such a miserable relationship record. And if the 6 ft 6" whole in my universe was still occupied by him.
10 comments:
'Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'
'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat.
'I don't much care where...' said Alice.
'Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.
'...so long as I get somewhere,' Alice added as an explanation.
~Lewis Carroll
New Year Wishes! :)
... and of course you are not counting the innnumerous blog fans in your universe, did you?
@albert and bricks: point well taken.
It's a bit of a "you're-your-own-worst-memory" thing.
Er, enemy.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=8vSWGNqI-sI
I get the sentiment behind the song Alberto but honestly I can't stand Snow Patrol and that particular song that had choked up all the airwaves during my stay in the UK. Thank God I wasn't around for the 'Umbrella' craze. :)
I hear you, hobo. People tell me "you're only 22", " for you and all what da", "everyone hs to go through this someday". The moment is now; maybe it will wash over,maybe it wont, but it's like someone emptied your innards.
Not to spam your blog, but http://ashtray-on-a-motorbike.blogspot.com/2007/06/i-once-had-girl-or-should-i-say-she_28.html
I know hobo that the song is a tad corny, but my liking for it stems from the fact that it is in the OST of Grey’s Anatomy for this season. Anyway, check this out.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=asbmvFsk8go
There are 250 thousand people dancing their tits off. You can check the whole concert (Brighton 2002) on youtube…it is there in 8 parts.
Btw, even after more than a year my infatuation for your writing remains. :)
Talk about timing. Hobo dear, you've missed a post that involves that song. But not quite the way you know it.
Post a Comment