I am currently on par with tones of burgundy in my hair, and in my late teen years there was always some streak of blonde, or multiple streaks of platinum running through my locks to make it fair.
This however, is not a post about hair colour. Rather it has to do with two of my closest buddies.
Red.
Blonde.
I love them both dearly. Red, I have known almost all my life. Even when we weren’t best friends before our high school days, we knew each other and even hung out for a short period of time in primary school. Friends for over 20 years, besties for about 15. That’s an impressive stat.
Blonde I’ve known for a bit less. Her I’ve known for 13 years, since high school, but it was in our post high school years that we grew even closer. I guess I’d say she’s been my ‘other’ bestie for about 7 years. Still a good feat.
I never say Blonde’s my bestie in front of Red. Nor do I say it about Red, in front of Blonde, though Blonde has heard it plenty out of Red’s mouth. The furthest I’ve gone, to speak about the other to the one I’m with, is to say “my closest friends.” But I’ve never said ‘best.’
Up until maybe a year ago, and especially in our early 20s, when Blonde was still living in the country, we were VERY VERY tight. The three of us. It was a constant ball. I always felt I was a good blend of the two. Red is more conservative in some respects, and I mean that only in the sense of not being so rude, not so out there with the sexual innuendos. No swearing, she’s good and kind and sweet to all people. She’ll bend over backwards for you, and is always smiling, always positive, cheerful and good-natured.
This is not to say she is boring or uninteresting in anyway, as most people think with ‘nice’ people (strike that – I hate the word ‘nice’). We’ve had the biggest laughs together Red and I. We share the same goofy, silly humour, generally the same taste in music, and have the same zest for life, constantly inspiring and motivating each other to reach higher, to achieve our wildest most unimaginable dreams. Because we know they’re not unimaginable. We know we can make them come true.
Blonde on the other hand, is quite… crazy. She has a very addictive personality: people just want to be around her. She is refreshing, in that she says whatever she’s thinking, does things without inhibition, and talks and talks until the cows come home. I have the utmost respect for her, because unlike ‘other’ motor-mouths who fail to realise that other people exist in their presence, when I speak, Blonde stops, and listens. She REALLY listens.
Blonde can sometimes be forgetful. She’ll forget your birthday; she’ll say she’s coming over, but then call 2 hours later and say, ‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry (because she can see through her sensory x-ray long-distance vision that I’m turning purple) but I’m coming now!’ And because of her happy-go-lucky persona, you always forgive her.
I like being a combo of the two of them, and that probably shows why I get along so well with them both. I think I’m sweet and kind like Red, willing to do a lot for my closest friends and family; yet like Blonde, I can be a bit rude, be a bit rash when the moment permits. I have a healthy dose of her wild side, yet a substantial portion of Red’s considerate-ness at the same time. Thoughtful yet crazy, I think.
They’re kind of the two extremes, yet we ALWAYS got along. Got along. One of my favourite memories, proof of how I’m a bit of both personalities, was when we went shopping together a while back, and Red upon looking at a kind of see-through top to try on, asked the shop assistant “do you have a singlet so I can put it on under this?” The guy started to look around, upon which Blonde jokingly said “no Red, you try it on like that so we see your boobs,” quite loudly, so the shop assistant could hear (he was gay by the way). As Blonde laughed out loud, and I giggled compulsively, Red turned to Blonde, shot her a dark look and said angrily “Blonde! That’s rude, don’t be so loud!”
Although that’s a fave memory, maybe that’s not the best example of the three of us. Maybe I use that example because that’s when I noticed things started to change. By that stage, it wasn’t 3 musketeers. It was 2. Or the ‘other’ 2. Never 3. I was always part of the 2. And by that time, from that incident, I started to realise I was leaning on the side of Blonde a bit more.
It almost hurts me to write this. I love them both so much. I wish the crap that had happened never did: not that anything, any event as such happened; it was just a slow removal, a non-revealing of information, non-sharing of life experiences, a waning of contact that led to the slow parting of Red and Blonde.
I don’t think Red would think they’ve parted. In true Red style, and though I love her for her positivity, her focus on that thing only leaves her with a bit of a dream-like, rose-coloured glasses view of everything. She doesn’t realise Blonde is shitty with her. She doesn’t realise she could have involved her more in her wedding. She doesn’t realise she hasn’t put into the friendship – she just thinks because she’s been busy, that Blonde understands.
It’s not just that. There are a few more nitty-gritty issues, things that got in the way and screwed things up. Other friends, partners.
Blonde sees it though. Blonde is hurt. And Blonde tells me all about it. Told me all about it.
Sigh.
I’m a bit stuck you see. I love both these girls. They fulfil parts of me, in completely different ways, and I’m the luckiest, most freaking blessed girl to have people like this in my life. Add to that my sister, who really, truly is (not biased, no joke) the best, most fantastic sister in the world – and I know it’s true because all my friends love her, even those who have sisters, wish they had her as one instead – and in the words of another friend, I feel like I’m shitting rainbows in the girlfriend department. I’m set.
Back in the day when we used to spend time together, Red, Blonde and I, it was magnificent. I actually can’t find an adjective appropriate enough to describe the time spent together. Explosive? Thrilling? Meaningful? Deep? Out of this world? If I was lesbian, I would probably have an affair with both of them, let’s just say that’s how much I love them.
And that’s the problem. I’d have an affair with both of them.
It would be so good, every time was the best time. Lately though, with the absence of both of them, simultaneously in my life, and with all of life’s changes… I’m missing those times. Thinking of it now, God I’m missing those times. SO BAD.
With all the shit and crap, doom and gloom and with all of life’s frustrations that have been so prevalent not just lately, but on and off for the past year, I’m missing that… and one of them more in particular.
Blonde.
Maybe it’s because the grass is greener. Blonde is overseas, I haven’t seen her in about 5 months, and I haven’t spoken to her in about the same time. No joke. Instead I’ve been busy with Red, and helping her plan her wedding.
And with all that’s been going on lately, I had a massive pang of sadness hit me last week. I miss Blonde. I need her. I need to talk to her. I want to know where she is.
Some best friend huh?
Blonde works overseas, and was going on holiday in that region a while ago. Up until just before my birthday, I knew what country she was in. I’d tried to call her before she left for her holiday, but her phone wasn’t working. She said she’d Skype me, but in true Blonde fashion, she never did. When she didn’t call me for my birthday, I was a bit sad: she makes an effort to remember my birthday, and I know she wouldn’t have forgotten it, despite how scatter-brained she can be at times.
I realised she wasn’t posting on facebook, AT ALL. In fact she still hasn’t. I’ve contacted her sister twice to ask about Blonde: once her sister said she was overseas and her normal phone wasn’t working; and most recently when I asked again, she mentioned Blonde was travelling to a conference. Well that sounds like she’s back at work. So why hasn’t she called me?
I’ve been a bit stubborn. I wanted to talk to Blonde earlier this year to tell her the exciting news that I’d finished my book. But when she didn’t call for my birthday I felt a bit rejected, honestly I did. Up until recently I was like ‘stuff her, she should call me, she should know I’ve been chasing her.’ But then I was like ‘does she?’ If she hasn’t updated her facebook, she wouldn’t see the messages left there. Her sister may not even be telling her (she can be the jealous type) and I even had a dream about her, where someone told me she had been shot, and all I saw of her was her top with a hole in it.
That made me worried. I started to doubt my stubbornness, and wonder whether I should just woman up and call her. If it’s your friend, you forgive them I say. Not just that, but you don’t know what’s been happening. You don’t know their side of the story. For all I know something bad has happened and she hasn’t been able to call. But her sister would have told me, surely…
But then again the other day I saw she ‘liked’ something on facebook – even though she hasn’t put anything on her page. So she IS around. But where IS she? I wonder whether she is avoiding us all, maybe because she doesn’t want to go to Red’s wedding. Maybe this is all in protest, in not having been chosen to be a part of the bridal party, in not having been chosen to be included AT ALL.
It’s just so confusing, and so frustrating. And so sad. I don’t know what to do. I miss her, and it’s actually HER that I miss. Despite my love for both of them, I actually need to speak to Blonde. With all that’s been going on, I feel I need to let my feelings out, and that Blonde is the right person to talk to. To air my grievances with. Red would listen I know, but she’d be all, “look on the bright side, be positive,” and I actually don’t need that. I want someone to listen, and to say “that’s shit.”
That’s Blonde. I need her matter-of-fact, listen without trying to make you feel better point of view. I just need the realism of life.
Maybe I just need to try call her again. Now.
Showing posts with label high school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label high school. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Friday, June 15, 2012
Which direction? Every, it appears…
So you know how a while ago I admitted to my embarrassing old man-crush on James Garner? A.K.A the very cool Jim Rockford from The Rockford Files? Well, even more embarrassingly so it seems, I’ve now swung to the other, cradle-snatching side of the pendulum, focusing my swoony eyes upon… One Direction.
Ouch. So hard to admit.
I find the whole fascination with them utterly hilarious. I’ve made fun of the fans in a very tongue-in-cheek way, of course not forgetting that I too, once upon a time, was a full-fledged teeny-bopper, bouncing along to Hanson… then 5ive… then N*Sync.
Yep. I can’t talk.
So I remember how it’s like. The adolescent fantasies, believing that one day, somehow, we would be together (first it was Taylor, then Scott, then Justin… Justin I still love though ) and the obsessive maniac-ness of it all. Posters, CDs, books scrawled with their names, the aggressive defending of anyone even thinking to bag them or their musical-genius talents. Oh yes, I remember. After a big argument we had, my Mum threatened that she would rip off all my Hanson posters when I was at school.
That was quite possibly the worst day EVER of my 14 year life.
Because I’m familiar with those feelings, I will try be sensitive to 1D-ers. But you must admit, they are HILARIOUS. And I was never that annoying too.
Despite my whole rolling-of-the-eyes façade when I see a posse of little girls run around with their ipods blasting “everyone else in the room can see me, everyone else but youuuuuu…” screaming like cats on heat and professing their undying love and devotion to them, even though they will undoubtedly, DEFINITELY, get over them in a year (look at the above list, IT WILL HAPPEN), I too found myself enjoying them a bit too much yesterday.
You know those fillers they place around movies and stuff during daytime TV? Well I saw one yesterday where No Direction performed in the street set-up on the Today show. They sung 3 songs, the first one was the “that’s what makes you beautiful,” the second was my favourite, the “get up, get up, get out of my head! And fall into my arms instead, I don’t I don’t don’t know what it is, but you’ve got that one thing.”
Oh dear. I know the whole chorus. You sing it and try get it out of your head, I dare you.
Then they sang one more song, I don’t think it’s been released (like I should know, big fan I am! LOL) but it was something like “when he lays me down, it just kills me inside…” I was like WTF? You guys are singing about sex? Do your fans even get wet yet?
Sorry. I know that was inappropriate. I tone my blog down because I can be very rude at times, but I just had to say it. Like seriously people. Are they really watching girls they like getting bonked by other guys? At like 15 or whatever their age is?
Anyway, I can’t talk, because in amongst observing all this teen-drama, I realised that Harry is very cute.
Yes Harry. I’m a Harry-girl.
(I’ll just wait for the 1D death threats and angry mails to start flooding – in “he’s mine!” and “I’ll kill you bitch!” They’re little girls though, so I doubt they use foul language yet, few years to go ‘til they hit 12. :p)
He looks very dreamy and has a really sexy voice, it’s very deep for his young, young years. I did previously think that the black-haired guy was cute, the one who reminds me of AJ from Backstreet Boys. But I think I’ve changed, there’s just something very solemn and perplexing about his gaze, especially when he sang the above ‘guy-laying-you-down-I-die’ bit and held his heart. It was like he was actually HURTING.
LOL. I’m having too much fun now.
But if I was a teenybopper now, I would create outrageous fantasies, with Harry, and black-haired AJ look-a-like fighting over me, and then the other dude, no idea what his name is but the girls went nuts when he sang his part, well he would step in and say “hey, move over guys, she’s mine…”
No! Stop it! It’s wrong, so so wrong.
:)
Ouch. So hard to admit.
I find the whole fascination with them utterly hilarious. I’ve made fun of the fans in a very tongue-in-cheek way, of course not forgetting that I too, once upon a time, was a full-fledged teeny-bopper, bouncing along to Hanson… then 5ive… then N*Sync.
Yep. I can’t talk.
So I remember how it’s like. The adolescent fantasies, believing that one day, somehow, we would be together (first it was Taylor, then Scott, then Justin… Justin I still love though ) and the obsessive maniac-ness of it all. Posters, CDs, books scrawled with their names, the aggressive defending of anyone even thinking to bag them or their musical-genius talents. Oh yes, I remember. After a big argument we had, my Mum threatened that she would rip off all my Hanson posters when I was at school.
That was quite possibly the worst day EVER of my 14 year life.
Because I’m familiar with those feelings, I will try be sensitive to 1D-ers. But you must admit, they are HILARIOUS. And I was never that annoying too.
Despite my whole rolling-of-the-eyes façade when I see a posse of little girls run around with their ipods blasting “everyone else in the room can see me, everyone else but youuuuuu…” screaming like cats on heat and professing their undying love and devotion to them, even though they will undoubtedly, DEFINITELY, get over them in a year (look at the above list, IT WILL HAPPEN), I too found myself enjoying them a bit too much yesterday.
You know those fillers they place around movies and stuff during daytime TV? Well I saw one yesterday where No Direction performed in the street set-up on the Today show. They sung 3 songs, the first one was the “that’s what makes you beautiful,” the second was my favourite, the “get up, get up, get out of my head! And fall into my arms instead, I don’t I don’t don’t know what it is, but you’ve got that one thing.”
Oh dear. I know the whole chorus. You sing it and try get it out of your head, I dare you.
Then they sang one more song, I don’t think it’s been released (like I should know, big fan I am! LOL) but it was something like “when he lays me down, it just kills me inside…” I was like WTF? You guys are singing about sex? Do your fans even get wet yet?
Sorry. I know that was inappropriate. I tone my blog down because I can be very rude at times, but I just had to say it. Like seriously people. Are they really watching girls they like getting bonked by other guys? At like 15 or whatever their age is?
Anyway, I can’t talk, because in amongst observing all this teen-drama, I realised that Harry is very cute.
Yes Harry. I’m a Harry-girl.
(I’ll just wait for the 1D death threats and angry mails to start flooding – in “he’s mine!” and “I’ll kill you bitch!” They’re little girls though, so I doubt they use foul language yet, few years to go ‘til they hit 12. :p)
He looks very dreamy and has a really sexy voice, it’s very deep for his young, young years. I did previously think that the black-haired guy was cute, the one who reminds me of AJ from Backstreet Boys. But I think I’ve changed, there’s just something very solemn and perplexing about his gaze, especially when he sang the above ‘guy-laying-you-down-I-die’ bit and held his heart. It was like he was actually HURTING.
LOL. I’m having too much fun now.
But if I was a teenybopper now, I would create outrageous fantasies, with Harry, and black-haired AJ look-a-like fighting over me, and then the other dude, no idea what his name is but the girls went nuts when he sang his part, well he would step in and say “hey, move over guys, she’s mine…”
No! Stop it! It’s wrong, so so wrong.
:)
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Glass half-full Gal
All I remember is that my last post was about something where I was trying to be funny and light-hearted despite the world-turning that’s been going on since the beginning of the year.
I know this because I remember writing it and thinking “liar Miss S., liar.”
I was trying to put up a bit of a front, in the midst of not knowing what to write, and how the hell to write it.
And the reason I don’t know what I last posted, isn’t just because there’s been so much time between then and now, but also because I write almost all of my posts in emails and word docs before actually posting. I’m actually not on blogger as I write this. I have this fear that the day I do write a post from the ‘New Post’ page that it will be some meaningful, monumental essay that will delete when the computer I’m on randomly crashes.
Random things. I both love them and hate them.
Random is the case in point as I think of how this all started.
I had holidays planned for Feb, and before resuming them I had such wonderful visions of what they would entail. Coffee, shopping, catch-ups with friends, and just general all-round happiness.
The first shock was in finding out about the deaths of the two guys I went to high school with. As much as it rocked my world, within days of writing the post about it and learning to come to terms with it, I was feeling better, and vowing to make my life and my existence an important one in light of how quickly things can change.
THEN.
We were all rocked when quite suddenly a very close member of Hubbie’s family discovered something horrible concerning his health. And my visions of holiday bliss, were quickly changed into accompanying Hubbie to the hospital on more than half the days I was away from work. In trying to remain discreet, let’s just say this is the fight of his life.
I hope I don’t come across as selfish or inconsiderate as I write this. I feel deeply, deeply sorry for the wellbeing of this member, and wish them full health as they struggle to regain balance and return to some sense of normalcy in their life. It will be a long battle, but we all remain positive that he will come out in the end a positive story, an inspiration to others.
It’s just that, there was a moment of… well it’s hard to say. I was annoyed. Not at him, not at the situation, but, in life.
I consider myself a highly organised, highly structured person. I know where all my shoes sit, exactly where all the plates and glasses go in the kitchen drawers, and if I see a book adjusted slightly on the bookshelf, I’ll ask Hubbie “did you read my Shakespeare book?”
I don’t try to be overly obsessive about these things, I’m just naturally an ordered person, and I like it when everything has its place, because I have a lot of stuff. I get it from my Dad, I’m sure. He did the whole army thing, so he knows all about discipline and order.
I was feeling highly frustrated. Not only were my holidays not how they were meant to be, all with getting up early, spending all day in the hospital and then returning home late at night, but there were other pressing matters getting to me. I wanted to finish my book, and had given myself ‘til the end of my holidays to do it. I said to myself, “I know this is bad, but I just have to keep going. Life will throw things at me. But I need to keep writing.”
And there were MORE pressing issues at hand, hopefully some of which I’ll be able to post about in months to come. I was being supportive to Hubbie, but I just felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and disappointment in thinking of all the things this year was meant to be, and suddenly realising that EVERYTHING had changed. It was extremely upsetting.
I know, I’m a bitch. The problem with being as self-aware as I am is that I step out of my body all the time and preview the things I’m doing in my life. And in this instance, I was stepping back and saying “you selfish, selfish person.”
And the problem was, not even the awareness of feeling the way I was helped me to get over it. It just made me more desperate, sad, annoyed and frustrated. The frustrated-ness was feeding the selfishness, and the selfishness was feeding the frustrated-ness. It was an ongoing cycle that I couldn’t seem to break.
Today, months later, the situation hasn’t changed much. Only time, facts, learning to cope with it and continuing to live life are the things that have helped make the situation… better? I wouldn’t say better, but we have the upmost positive attitude towards this life changing event, and truly believe things will get better and eventually get back to normal.
What do you do? You have to eventually go back to living life. Because life doesn’t wait for you.
I have learnt to cope with it. I think I needed a bit of time to just stew, whinge that “things weren’t meant to be like this” and go into a depression, in my path to accepting that this was now our reality. I’m totally used to it now, am aware that in life things aren’t always going to be perfect, and I’m just learning to move on and work around this thing without compromising the things I’ve always wanted to do.
I hope I don’t sound too horrible a person. I’m coupled with an infinite amount of empathy, but with it comes an unexpected dose of selfishness. It’s just me. I try to be better, but some leopard spots just don’t change.
As I got to terms with all that was going on, I kept going on with my life. As planned, I finished my book on the last day of my holidays, YAY! It was very exciting for me, and if I do say so myself, I had a couple of tears trickling down my cheeks from happiness. Writing and the entire creation process is an extremely emotional one. You put so much of yourself, your heart, soul and passions into it, that at the end you end up feeling completely overwhelmed by it all.
I’m currently in the process of doing my second draft, and I have two chapters left to go over. Then I will go and research those little bits and pieces that I have to add to the book, go over it a third time (more thoroughly than the second time but hopefully a bit faster!) and then I’ll consider myself kind of done :)
Towards the end of my holidays in Feb I did end up doing a bit of what I’d been craving for at the beginning: coffee, shopping and catch-ups. In fact, I had the best day out with my sister. I just love her so much. I’m not being biased either. She is, THE BOMB.
Later on as well, Red and I ended up going to the cemetery where our friends were buried. We found Wavy first, then after a bit more searching up and down the rows, we came across Seven. Because the burials were relatively fresh, the headstones hadn’t yet been put up, and standing where we were in front of Seven’s site, we could look in front of us about a row or two up, to see Wavy’s. They’d been friends, been in the same classes, the same school, and had died within months of each other. And were now buried within metres of each other too.
Red and I had a few moments just standing there in front of them. Just thinking. I said a quiet goodbye.
On top of that, there were two sudden deaths in amongst all of this, (well maybe one was not so sudden) on Hubbie’s side of the family. It’s just been one thing after another.
Despite the general gloom of this post, I feel things have been much better in the last few months than how I’ve expressed them to be here. Yes, all these things did happen, and yes, some were really bad, and some were really good. (We bought a new car too!)
It’s just the way you see things I guess. Despite how shit I felt earlier in the year, I’m a glass half-full type of gal. I look back at all that and go “well, you learn. Things change.”
And within weeks of all of it first going down, I turned and said to Hubbie “you know what? We’re going to be the ones to bring the sunshine back into their life. We’re going to bring to them the good news that’s been a long time coming. That’s our role in all of this.”
And I truly believe it is.
I know this because I remember writing it and thinking “liar Miss S., liar.”
I was trying to put up a bit of a front, in the midst of not knowing what to write, and how the hell to write it.
And the reason I don’t know what I last posted, isn’t just because there’s been so much time between then and now, but also because I write almost all of my posts in emails and word docs before actually posting. I’m actually not on blogger as I write this. I have this fear that the day I do write a post from the ‘New Post’ page that it will be some meaningful, monumental essay that will delete when the computer I’m on randomly crashes.
Random things. I both love them and hate them.
Random is the case in point as I think of how this all started.
I had holidays planned for Feb, and before resuming them I had such wonderful visions of what they would entail. Coffee, shopping, catch-ups with friends, and just general all-round happiness.
The first shock was in finding out about the deaths of the two guys I went to high school with. As much as it rocked my world, within days of writing the post about it and learning to come to terms with it, I was feeling better, and vowing to make my life and my existence an important one in light of how quickly things can change.
THEN.
We were all rocked when quite suddenly a very close member of Hubbie’s family discovered something horrible concerning his health. And my visions of holiday bliss, were quickly changed into accompanying Hubbie to the hospital on more than half the days I was away from work. In trying to remain discreet, let’s just say this is the fight of his life.
I hope I don’t come across as selfish or inconsiderate as I write this. I feel deeply, deeply sorry for the wellbeing of this member, and wish them full health as they struggle to regain balance and return to some sense of normalcy in their life. It will be a long battle, but we all remain positive that he will come out in the end a positive story, an inspiration to others.
It’s just that, there was a moment of… well it’s hard to say. I was annoyed. Not at him, not at the situation, but, in life.
I consider myself a highly organised, highly structured person. I know where all my shoes sit, exactly where all the plates and glasses go in the kitchen drawers, and if I see a book adjusted slightly on the bookshelf, I’ll ask Hubbie “did you read my Shakespeare book?”
I don’t try to be overly obsessive about these things, I’m just naturally an ordered person, and I like it when everything has its place, because I have a lot of stuff. I get it from my Dad, I’m sure. He did the whole army thing, so he knows all about discipline and order.
I was feeling highly frustrated. Not only were my holidays not how they were meant to be, all with getting up early, spending all day in the hospital and then returning home late at night, but there were other pressing matters getting to me. I wanted to finish my book, and had given myself ‘til the end of my holidays to do it. I said to myself, “I know this is bad, but I just have to keep going. Life will throw things at me. But I need to keep writing.”
And there were MORE pressing issues at hand, hopefully some of which I’ll be able to post about in months to come. I was being supportive to Hubbie, but I just felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and disappointment in thinking of all the things this year was meant to be, and suddenly realising that EVERYTHING had changed. It was extremely upsetting.
I know, I’m a bitch. The problem with being as self-aware as I am is that I step out of my body all the time and preview the things I’m doing in my life. And in this instance, I was stepping back and saying “you selfish, selfish person.”
And the problem was, not even the awareness of feeling the way I was helped me to get over it. It just made me more desperate, sad, annoyed and frustrated. The frustrated-ness was feeding the selfishness, and the selfishness was feeding the frustrated-ness. It was an ongoing cycle that I couldn’t seem to break.
Today, months later, the situation hasn’t changed much. Only time, facts, learning to cope with it and continuing to live life are the things that have helped make the situation… better? I wouldn’t say better, but we have the upmost positive attitude towards this life changing event, and truly believe things will get better and eventually get back to normal.
What do you do? You have to eventually go back to living life. Because life doesn’t wait for you.
I have learnt to cope with it. I think I needed a bit of time to just stew, whinge that “things weren’t meant to be like this” and go into a depression, in my path to accepting that this was now our reality. I’m totally used to it now, am aware that in life things aren’t always going to be perfect, and I’m just learning to move on and work around this thing without compromising the things I’ve always wanted to do.
I hope I don’t sound too horrible a person. I’m coupled with an infinite amount of empathy, but with it comes an unexpected dose of selfishness. It’s just me. I try to be better, but some leopard spots just don’t change.
As I got to terms with all that was going on, I kept going on with my life. As planned, I finished my book on the last day of my holidays, YAY! It was very exciting for me, and if I do say so myself, I had a couple of tears trickling down my cheeks from happiness. Writing and the entire creation process is an extremely emotional one. You put so much of yourself, your heart, soul and passions into it, that at the end you end up feeling completely overwhelmed by it all.
I’m currently in the process of doing my second draft, and I have two chapters left to go over. Then I will go and research those little bits and pieces that I have to add to the book, go over it a third time (more thoroughly than the second time but hopefully a bit faster!) and then I’ll consider myself kind of done :)
Towards the end of my holidays in Feb I did end up doing a bit of what I’d been craving for at the beginning: coffee, shopping and catch-ups. In fact, I had the best day out with my sister. I just love her so much. I’m not being biased either. She is, THE BOMB.
Later on as well, Red and I ended up going to the cemetery where our friends were buried. We found Wavy first, then after a bit more searching up and down the rows, we came across Seven. Because the burials were relatively fresh, the headstones hadn’t yet been put up, and standing where we were in front of Seven’s site, we could look in front of us about a row or two up, to see Wavy’s. They’d been friends, been in the same classes, the same school, and had died within months of each other. And were now buried within metres of each other too.
Red and I had a few moments just standing there in front of them. Just thinking. I said a quiet goodbye.
On top of that, there were two sudden deaths in amongst all of this, (well maybe one was not so sudden) on Hubbie’s side of the family. It’s just been one thing after another.
Despite the general gloom of this post, I feel things have been much better in the last few months than how I’ve expressed them to be here. Yes, all these things did happen, and yes, some were really bad, and some were really good. (We bought a new car too!)
It’s just the way you see things I guess. Despite how shit I felt earlier in the year, I’m a glass half-full type of gal. I look back at all that and go “well, you learn. Things change.”
And within weeks of all of it first going down, I turned and said to Hubbie “you know what? We’re going to be the ones to bring the sunshine back into their life. We’re going to bring to them the good news that’s been a long time coming. That’s our role in all of this.”
And I truly believe it is.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Symmetry is screwed.... (The Peculiarity of Symmetry Part 2)
So last night we got a phone call from Hubbie's best mate. He'd heard the bad news that a guy I went to high school with, or rather we all went to high school with but he was closer in age to me and my friends, well he died on the weekend from a motorbike accident.
We were really shocked, myself probably more so. We were in several classes together, we spoke often, and I have vivid memories of him. He wasn't like a friend friend, but you know when the whole class sort of knows everyone, and everyone interacts? Well he was that person to me and my friends. At one point he was something more to one of my friends, but we'll get to that later.
He meant well, but for some reason as he got older, he deliberately pursued getting involved with the bad crowd. He deliberately made trouble in and out of class so as to gain attention, and be recognised as a bad boy. We could really see through it. Maybe that was due to the fact that he was a year younger than us, and we weren't as easily impressed by those tactics than if they had been performed by someone older than us who we feared/looked up to. That goes hand in hand in high school.
So when I heard the news about (we'll call him Seven) him yesterday, I couldn't help but think about him and be shocked by the whole events. I hadn't really heard of him since those high school days, and every so often if someone from that year was mentioned, my mind couldn't help but wander and think of where he had ended up.
So Red was my friend who he was more than just a school friend to at one stage. He was the first guy she kissed, however it didn't go any further than that, and all of us, with he and his friends, remained good friends throughout those early years of high school.
I called Red yesterday to see if she had heard. I already suspected she may have, just with the fact that everyone knows everyone: and she had. She was shocked too by it all. And then she told me something else.
"Miss S, did you hear about - (we'll call him Wavy)?"
"Which wavy?" (there are a lot of people with this common name Wavy.)
"Wavy, the one you kissed?"
"What?"
"He had c------."
I couldn't hear her. "What?"
"He had cancer. He died months ago."
I was floored. This was a guy I hadn't seen since my high school days either. I'd often wondered where he had ended up, as usually I saw some people from high school around and about, shopping, clubs, whatever. But he and his friends, (and he was sort of in the same group as Seven) I never heard anything of, and I always wondered if they were all in some bad crowd and that's why we never saw them.
Both Seven and Wavy were in similar groups. They were both a year younger than Red and I. They had died within months of each other. And they were both our first kiss'.
....
....
....
They say bad luck comes in threes, but for something like this, so horrible to happen, and then to start to see the likeness behind it all, the weird 'coincidences', is scary. I was more in shock yesterday, keen to get home and check facebook because Red told me she'd seen a memorial page for him there. She'd kept forgetting to tell me about it.
It was so hard to find it. I didnt know his last name, and I was trying all kinds of searches. And then the net kept playing up on me. Finally, after midnight last night (or should I say this morning) I found the R.I.P page dedicated to him. It was a combination of sickness, shock and dark acceptance that ran through me as I looked at the photo they had put up of him. Wavy's photo looked like him, just a but more manly, you know how guys bulk up a bit over time. Then I went to look at more photos of him that had been put up, and I almost turned away saying "no that's not him."
That horrible horrible disease. He didn't look like him. I feel so upset just thinking of it now. It's so unfair. I actually convinced myself for a moment that I had the wrong Wavy, until I looked closer at the photos. His face looked different, and his hair was closely shaved due to the treatment I'm guesing. He was such a good looking guy. He was really sweet, and really nice.
He never treated me bad. There was in fact nothing he ever did wrong. It was all me, and never was the statement "it's not you, it's me" more truer than in this case. Honestly, I liked him, and I had him for a short while until I realised I wanted something different. I was honest with him when I broke it off, and although he took it well, I have so much guilt now, wondering if I hurt his feelings or made him feel horrible.
It's amazing you know. You don't think someone has affected you, until they're gone. It's weird because I've thought of him at odd times during the years, and at one point said to myself "it's like he's fallen off the face of the earth." I actually thought that. And a couple of months ago, I thought I saw him on a train. But thinking of those photos I saw, that wasn't him on the train. Definitely not.
It may sound overly self-indulgent, and I don't mean it to sound that way, but I just hope that none of my actions affected him and made his life different. I may not have had that kind of impact on his life, just from one moment in time: and hey, I really hope I didn't. I just pray and hope that he had lots of love and happiness surrounding him at all times. And that he wasn't alone. Even though ultimately, we all die alone.
It's breaking me up inside.
I've already kind of said my goodbye, but it still feels weird, unfinished. I wish I'd known. I don't know what I could have done, what I would have done, but I almost feel like asking Red if she wants to visit their gravesites, even though I have no idea where they are. She's as blown away by all this as I am, and she is also freaking out about the symmetry of it all.
I've had a cousin murdered, another cousin commit suicide, an aunty die suddenly of cancer; and as devastating as all those things were, I'm really shook by this. They were both so young, younger than myself. For Wavy, especially, I know it's cliche to say but he didn't deserve it. He was really a greay guy. As someone on his memory page said, he hadn't even had a chance to be a husband, a father. That is so unfair.
Because he played such a monumental role in my life, as short as the time was, that's why I think I'm so blown away by it all. He died such a short time ago, and his family and friends are still writing things on his page and posting photos. It was devastating to read, but I guess good knowing he was so loved, is so loved.
I hadn't seen him for such a long time. Never would I imagine this would happen, and that he would mark such strong emotions in me after his death. I'm still in shock. I don't know what to think. I pray and hope he is safe, well and in peace where he is right now.
When it comes to death, I have no answers. I try to live my life on a positive scale every day, and look at the good, and the secret messages in everything, even the bad. I struggle when it comes to death though. As I wrote to Red "The only thing we can do is take this experience and use it to keep pursuing our dreams, keep moving forward. We can only try."
We are the lucky ones. We are still breathing, still living. Every day is a blessing. Be happy (although I'm almost crying). Live life to the fullest. Do what your heart says. Because for some, life is too short, and for others, it is too painful. So enjoy the moments you have, and always be grateful that at the very least you have your breath.
R.I.P Seven.
R.I.P Wavy. I will always remember you.
We were really shocked, myself probably more so. We were in several classes together, we spoke often, and I have vivid memories of him. He wasn't like a friend friend, but you know when the whole class sort of knows everyone, and everyone interacts? Well he was that person to me and my friends. At one point he was something more to one of my friends, but we'll get to that later.
He meant well, but for some reason as he got older, he deliberately pursued getting involved with the bad crowd. He deliberately made trouble in and out of class so as to gain attention, and be recognised as a bad boy. We could really see through it. Maybe that was due to the fact that he was a year younger than us, and we weren't as easily impressed by those tactics than if they had been performed by someone older than us who we feared/looked up to. That goes hand in hand in high school.
So when I heard the news about (we'll call him Seven) him yesterday, I couldn't help but think about him and be shocked by the whole events. I hadn't really heard of him since those high school days, and every so often if someone from that year was mentioned, my mind couldn't help but wander and think of where he had ended up.
So Red was my friend who he was more than just a school friend to at one stage. He was the first guy she kissed, however it didn't go any further than that, and all of us, with he and his friends, remained good friends throughout those early years of high school.
I called Red yesterday to see if she had heard. I already suspected she may have, just with the fact that everyone knows everyone: and she had. She was shocked too by it all. And then she told me something else.
"Miss S, did you hear about - (we'll call him Wavy)?"
"Which wavy?" (there are a lot of people with this common name Wavy.)
"Wavy, the one you kissed?"
"What?"
"He had c------."
I couldn't hear her. "What?"
"He had cancer. He died months ago."
I was floored. This was a guy I hadn't seen since my high school days either. I'd often wondered where he had ended up, as usually I saw some people from high school around and about, shopping, clubs, whatever. But he and his friends, (and he was sort of in the same group as Seven) I never heard anything of, and I always wondered if they were all in some bad crowd and that's why we never saw them.
Both Seven and Wavy were in similar groups. They were both a year younger than Red and I. They had died within months of each other. And they were both our first kiss'.
....
....
....
They say bad luck comes in threes, but for something like this, so horrible to happen, and then to start to see the likeness behind it all, the weird 'coincidences', is scary. I was more in shock yesterday, keen to get home and check facebook because Red told me she'd seen a memorial page for him there. She'd kept forgetting to tell me about it.
It was so hard to find it. I didnt know his last name, and I was trying all kinds of searches. And then the net kept playing up on me. Finally, after midnight last night (or should I say this morning) I found the R.I.P page dedicated to him. It was a combination of sickness, shock and dark acceptance that ran through me as I looked at the photo they had put up of him. Wavy's photo looked like him, just a but more manly, you know how guys bulk up a bit over time. Then I went to look at more photos of him that had been put up, and I almost turned away saying "no that's not him."
That horrible horrible disease. He didn't look like him. I feel so upset just thinking of it now. It's so unfair. I actually convinced myself for a moment that I had the wrong Wavy, until I looked closer at the photos. His face looked different, and his hair was closely shaved due to the treatment I'm guesing. He was such a good looking guy. He was really sweet, and really nice.
He never treated me bad. There was in fact nothing he ever did wrong. It was all me, and never was the statement "it's not you, it's me" more truer than in this case. Honestly, I liked him, and I had him for a short while until I realised I wanted something different. I was honest with him when I broke it off, and although he took it well, I have so much guilt now, wondering if I hurt his feelings or made him feel horrible.
It's amazing you know. You don't think someone has affected you, until they're gone. It's weird because I've thought of him at odd times during the years, and at one point said to myself "it's like he's fallen off the face of the earth." I actually thought that. And a couple of months ago, I thought I saw him on a train. But thinking of those photos I saw, that wasn't him on the train. Definitely not.
It may sound overly self-indulgent, and I don't mean it to sound that way, but I just hope that none of my actions affected him and made his life different. I may not have had that kind of impact on his life, just from one moment in time: and hey, I really hope I didn't. I just pray and hope that he had lots of love and happiness surrounding him at all times. And that he wasn't alone. Even though ultimately, we all die alone.
It's breaking me up inside.
I've already kind of said my goodbye, but it still feels weird, unfinished. I wish I'd known. I don't know what I could have done, what I would have done, but I almost feel like asking Red if she wants to visit their gravesites, even though I have no idea where they are. She's as blown away by all this as I am, and she is also freaking out about the symmetry of it all.
I've had a cousin murdered, another cousin commit suicide, an aunty die suddenly of cancer; and as devastating as all those things were, I'm really shook by this. They were both so young, younger than myself. For Wavy, especially, I know it's cliche to say but he didn't deserve it. He was really a greay guy. As someone on his memory page said, he hadn't even had a chance to be a husband, a father. That is so unfair.
Because he played such a monumental role in my life, as short as the time was, that's why I think I'm so blown away by it all. He died such a short time ago, and his family and friends are still writing things on his page and posting photos. It was devastating to read, but I guess good knowing he was so loved, is so loved.
I hadn't seen him for such a long time. Never would I imagine this would happen, and that he would mark such strong emotions in me after his death. I'm still in shock. I don't know what to think. I pray and hope he is safe, well and in peace where he is right now.
When it comes to death, I have no answers. I try to live my life on a positive scale every day, and look at the good, and the secret messages in everything, even the bad. I struggle when it comes to death though. As I wrote to Red "The only thing we can do is take this experience and use it to keep pursuing our dreams, keep moving forward. We can only try."
We are the lucky ones. We are still breathing, still living. Every day is a blessing. Be happy (although I'm almost crying). Live life to the fullest. Do what your heart says. Because for some, life is too short, and for others, it is too painful. So enjoy the moments you have, and always be grateful that at the very least you have your breath.
R.I.P Seven.
R.I.P Wavy. I will always remember you.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Imitation is the sincerest form of Insult
I need to get this out so that I can try to move on. In true OCD form I've been completely obsessing over it, and I can't take it anymore.
Let's play the hypothetical game again, with not so hypothetical people, and a not at all hypothetical situation.
Let's say, I have some really nice kitchen items. To make this game easier, I'll say I have a beautiful fruit bowl, with matching salt and pepper shakers that sit beside it. It took me ages to find something this beautiful, unique and original in the modern style Hubbie and I were going for in the kitchen (remember, hypothetical!) So when we got it and put it in there a couple of months ago, we were like "Ahhhh." Looks good.
Now, about a month ago we had Mouth over with another couple. During the course of the visit, after she had been to my kitchen, she commented to me "oh, I like your fruit bowl, and the salt and pepper shakers. Really nice. Where did you get it?"
I was probably slightly thrown by the fact that she never really notices anything or anyone but herself, and it seemed she was giving me a genuine compliment for my kitchen things. I said quite casually "oh, from blah and blah."
I didn't think much of it. I later heard from Hubbie that the other couple who were over, well the woman expressed how much she really liked my kitchen things, and added "they're from blah and blah, yeah?"
When Hubbie told me this I was like "no! She can't get the same things as us!" But the knowledge that the shopping centre we got it from wasn't exactly local, kept me secure in the fact that she wouldn't go there by herself and get them. She could just safely admire them from a dsitance whenever she was at our house.
So I forgot about it.
Just recently, we found ourselves at this woman's house. Mouth was there also, and some other people. A couple of hours into it, Hubbie whispers to me "have you been to the kitchen?"
He has a weird look on his face. "What?" I ask, confused.
"She bought the things." He's smiling but I can see his expression is really wary, judging me and how I'm going to react. My mouth drops open as I realise what he's talking about. I'm gaping.
"Don't overreact. Don't make a scene."
I get up immediately and march to the kitchen. My heart drops when I get there, when I see MY fruit browl and matching salt and pepper shakers.
I am in absolute shock. She bloody went there. She went to the shopping centre, to the exact same shop and bought the same bloody things as me. And now her kitchen looks like mine.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
I am completely deflated. Dismayed, upset, devastated, shocked. Hubbie reads my face as I come and sit back down. "Don't jump, you don't know the full story. Don't be upset, ok?" I'm wondering at his words, wondering what the hell extra there is to know that would make this situation better for me, but I try to push it out of my mind, not wanting to appear obvious.
Not too long after that, I'm talking to Mouth. And somehow, in conversation, she says "so last weekend I went to blah shopping centre with woman, to get those things at blah shop, you know your kitchen things?"
All the pieces are falling into place. But it's actually getting worse for me.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, we went and bought them."
The word we I'm having an especially hard time with. It's sticking out like a sore thumb in a sentence of fingers.
"You went and bought the exact same things?" My tone is dead, expressionless. I'm numb with shock.
"Yeah." Her response is almost questioning. As if she's trying to work out what my take is on all of it.
She goes on and on as my heart sinks deeper.
"They have good priced forks there, you know," she waffles on. (hypothetical forks!)
"Yeah," I say flatly. "That's why I like it there. I like to get good, different things that arent the same as everyone else."
There's a distinct pause. I can hear her thinking. Then, because she's a fucking tool, she continues unaffected.
Phew. I need to calm down.
Perhaps I need to give you a little back story, so you can understand my strong aversion to copying.
Growing up, I had a friend, let's simply call her copy-cat. Enough said, right? In primary school she would read off my work, and when I'd catch her I'd yell out "stop copying!" She would say back angrily "I'm not copying!" And yet she would still do it, peering over my arm which I tried to protectively cover my work with.
All my friends knew. When she was near them she would try to copy their work too. But because my regular seat was next to her, I got the brunt of it.
Copy-cat and I went to the same high school. Here, I didn't have as many classes with her, but the rest of my friends there soon found out how she was, and again she was accused of copying. The annyoing thing with her was that she would copy you, and then make her work better. That was the aggravating thing. That and obviously denying that she was even plagiarising our work.
It was easier for me in high school, knowing my friends there could see what I could see. But then as I thought I lost her annoying habit, I gained the same habit in someone else. My cousins Legs and Hair.
Now I absolutely love them to pieces, I really do. But there was a time when I was growing up, and them being younger than me and looking up to me of course, that they would imitate me. They liked the things I liked. They dressed like me. And on and on. At one stage one of them confided to me that their own grandmother said to them "You should be more like Miss S." Although I was only 14 at the time, I lost it when I heard this. "Screw her! Don't be like me, or anybody else, be your own person!"
And they did, and I'm so proud of my adopted sisters for what they have grown into.
But what I'm trying to show here is that I had a lot of copying of me over the years, copying that scarred me, and that has made me want to be completely original, different and unlike anybody else. The more people copied me, the more I shied away and tried to be even more original and unique.
So that, on top of the fact that I have to mentally imagine kicking Mouth like a football far off into the distance just to get her annoyingness out of my head, has got me so unbelievably pissed off that you can't imagine.
I can't believe, that she went and bought the exact same things as me. She not only went into the same shop (which is fine) but she bought the exact same things! Has she no shame? Is she not embarrassed, does she not feel pathetic? I would be completely ashamed of buying the exact same thing as someone else, and then have them come into my house and see that I've copied them. How shameful! Shame, shame, shame.
The reason I'm not having a go at the other woman - though I am still upset! - is because Hubbie said to me not to be. She's older, and she looks at other people for home ideas. She doesn't know. I exhaled loudly when I heard this. I'm still exhaling. I wanna do it for him, but it's not easy. I would do anything for him though.
But Mouth. Mouth is younger than the woman. She's older than us. (Another shameful thing, copying people younger than you) She should know better. When the woman called Mouth and said "I want to get the same things as Miss S," Mouth should have said "No, that's embarrassing, we'll go and get something different."
Mouth, the same Mouth who would have a go at someone for copying her. The same mouth who only ever praises or talks about herself. The same mouth who never gives anyone recognition. Do you think when guests comment on her kitchen things that she's going to be honest and say "I copied Miss S' style"? No! No she won't because she is a narcissist!
Argh! I'm so furious. I can't take it. The saying about imitation being flattery, is a load of bullshit. It's not flattery for someone whose suffered the effects of people trying to steal her style for only HER ENTIRE LIFE.
It absolutely boils me to my core. Do not copy me! Especially you, Mouth! I can't stand it, I'm absolutely fuming with anger.
Hubbie and I don't have the biggest house. But with what we have, we try to make the best of it, and put really fine touches to our house to make it unique. We buy quality items, interesting pieces, and all the furnishings show attention to detail and careful planning. Both Mouth and woman have big, new houses. Do they have to take the one thing I have, my style? Do they want that too? What else do they want from me, my life?
Leave me with the one thing I have, please. Leave me that. But no, they had to take it. SHE had to take it.
These obsessive fiery thoughts would not stop going around and around in my head yesterday. I had to talk to Sis. She is awesome, she is so awesome that my next post will be about her, to counteract the angst that is Mouth and everything about her that I despise.
Sis helped me. She tried to get me to see it in a different light. She suggested the conclusions that Hubbie and I had already come to: that we don't tell them where we buy our things in the future - we be vague if ever asked; and that this whole situation was a lesson learnt for the future. She didn't see it in the way I did, because she says she's had a friend copy her thing, and she's even copied another friend for something. But see, it's the way you go about it. My sister is very honest, and would admit to the person how much she loved it and that she was intending to buy one for herself. Mouth however is sneaky. She gives me praise - just enough - but not so much that I thought she really liked it. Then she organised a shopping day with woman, they went off and bought it without a mention of it to Hubbie and I. When it was too late, it was all bought and done.
Hubbie agrees. He's not so hung up on it as I am, but when I asked him, he admitted "I'm spewing." He didn't have to have someone copy him his whole life to make him want to be original and have different things. It's so annoying.
You know what else? We have this other 'kitchen item' a 'coffee machine' (not really, still hypothetical!) that she's asked us about, and I've said that we've bought it in a far-off region. She also knows that some of our other home furnishings are from that 'far-off region.' Guess where Mouth and her family went a couple of weeks ago? To the far-off region! What, you need another coffee machine? Get your own fucking style you leeches!
Geez, do they want to copy our whole house? The thing that peeves me off, is as I said in reference to my Sis, they're not honest. Admit you like it. Say it out loud and MEAN IT. Unlike them, who often snub their noses at things we've seen, things we've bought, and things we've done (like going to the far-off region) and then they explode with fireworks and expect you to shower them with attention when THEY GO!
I know, I know. Narcissists, in every sense of the word.
We're actually going to find a whole new, different, unique and original fruit bowl with matching salt and pepper shakers. In a couple of months we're going to a similar far-off region, and I'm going to go into as many shops there as I can, and find something bigger and better. (See how we have to buy something different because of other, annoying people?)
And THEN when they say "oh, you have different ones?!"
I'M going to say "yes, I like to have truly original pieces unlike anything anyone else has."
And I hope that that boils her and makes her feel PATHETIC. Copy cat.
What I hope for most? That after this realisation I make her come to (and I will) that she will always see my face in her fruit bowl and salt and pepper shakers. Forever.
And I hope she can live with herself for that. Because denial doesn't ever change the fact.
Let's play the hypothetical game again, with not so hypothetical people, and a not at all hypothetical situation.
Let's say, I have some really nice kitchen items. To make this game easier, I'll say I have a beautiful fruit bowl, with matching salt and pepper shakers that sit beside it. It took me ages to find something this beautiful, unique and original in the modern style Hubbie and I were going for in the kitchen (remember, hypothetical!) So when we got it and put it in there a couple of months ago, we were like "Ahhhh." Looks good.
Now, about a month ago we had Mouth over with another couple. During the course of the visit, after she had been to my kitchen, she commented to me "oh, I like your fruit bowl, and the salt and pepper shakers. Really nice. Where did you get it?"
I was probably slightly thrown by the fact that she never really notices anything or anyone but herself, and it seemed she was giving me a genuine compliment for my kitchen things. I said quite casually "oh, from blah and blah."
I didn't think much of it. I later heard from Hubbie that the other couple who were over, well the woman expressed how much she really liked my kitchen things, and added "they're from blah and blah, yeah?"
When Hubbie told me this I was like "no! She can't get the same things as us!" But the knowledge that the shopping centre we got it from wasn't exactly local, kept me secure in the fact that she wouldn't go there by herself and get them. She could just safely admire them from a dsitance whenever she was at our house.
So I forgot about it.
Just recently, we found ourselves at this woman's house. Mouth was there also, and some other people. A couple of hours into it, Hubbie whispers to me "have you been to the kitchen?"
He has a weird look on his face. "What?" I ask, confused.
"She bought the things." He's smiling but I can see his expression is really wary, judging me and how I'm going to react. My mouth drops open as I realise what he's talking about. I'm gaping.
"Don't overreact. Don't make a scene."
I get up immediately and march to the kitchen. My heart drops when I get there, when I see MY fruit browl and matching salt and pepper shakers.
I am in absolute shock. She bloody went there. She went to the shopping centre, to the exact same shop and bought the same bloody things as me. And now her kitchen looks like mine.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
I am completely deflated. Dismayed, upset, devastated, shocked. Hubbie reads my face as I come and sit back down. "Don't jump, you don't know the full story. Don't be upset, ok?" I'm wondering at his words, wondering what the hell extra there is to know that would make this situation better for me, but I try to push it out of my mind, not wanting to appear obvious.
Not too long after that, I'm talking to Mouth. And somehow, in conversation, she says "so last weekend I went to blah shopping centre with woman, to get those things at blah shop, you know your kitchen things?"
All the pieces are falling into place. But it's actually getting worse for me.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, we went and bought them."
The word we I'm having an especially hard time with. It's sticking out like a sore thumb in a sentence of fingers.
"You went and bought the exact same things?" My tone is dead, expressionless. I'm numb with shock.
"Yeah." Her response is almost questioning. As if she's trying to work out what my take is on all of it.
She goes on and on as my heart sinks deeper.
"They have good priced forks there, you know," she waffles on. (hypothetical forks!)
"Yeah," I say flatly. "That's why I like it there. I like to get good, different things that arent the same as everyone else."
There's a distinct pause. I can hear her thinking. Then, because she's a fucking tool, she continues unaffected.
Phew. I need to calm down.
Perhaps I need to give you a little back story, so you can understand my strong aversion to copying.
Growing up, I had a friend, let's simply call her copy-cat. Enough said, right? In primary school she would read off my work, and when I'd catch her I'd yell out "stop copying!" She would say back angrily "I'm not copying!" And yet she would still do it, peering over my arm which I tried to protectively cover my work with.
All my friends knew. When she was near them she would try to copy their work too. But because my regular seat was next to her, I got the brunt of it.
Copy-cat and I went to the same high school. Here, I didn't have as many classes with her, but the rest of my friends there soon found out how she was, and again she was accused of copying. The annyoing thing with her was that she would copy you, and then make her work better. That was the aggravating thing. That and obviously denying that she was even plagiarising our work.
It was easier for me in high school, knowing my friends there could see what I could see. But then as I thought I lost her annoying habit, I gained the same habit in someone else. My cousins Legs and Hair.
Now I absolutely love them to pieces, I really do. But there was a time when I was growing up, and them being younger than me and looking up to me of course, that they would imitate me. They liked the things I liked. They dressed like me. And on and on. At one stage one of them confided to me that their own grandmother said to them "You should be more like Miss S." Although I was only 14 at the time, I lost it when I heard this. "Screw her! Don't be like me, or anybody else, be your own person!"
And they did, and I'm so proud of my adopted sisters for what they have grown into.
But what I'm trying to show here is that I had a lot of copying of me over the years, copying that scarred me, and that has made me want to be completely original, different and unlike anybody else. The more people copied me, the more I shied away and tried to be even more original and unique.
So that, on top of the fact that I have to mentally imagine kicking Mouth like a football far off into the distance just to get her annoyingness out of my head, has got me so unbelievably pissed off that you can't imagine.
I can't believe, that she went and bought the exact same things as me. She not only went into the same shop (which is fine) but she bought the exact same things! Has she no shame? Is she not embarrassed, does she not feel pathetic? I would be completely ashamed of buying the exact same thing as someone else, and then have them come into my house and see that I've copied them. How shameful! Shame, shame, shame.
The reason I'm not having a go at the other woman - though I am still upset! - is because Hubbie said to me not to be. She's older, and she looks at other people for home ideas. She doesn't know. I exhaled loudly when I heard this. I'm still exhaling. I wanna do it for him, but it's not easy. I would do anything for him though.
But Mouth. Mouth is younger than the woman. She's older than us. (Another shameful thing, copying people younger than you) She should know better. When the woman called Mouth and said "I want to get the same things as Miss S," Mouth should have said "No, that's embarrassing, we'll go and get something different."
Mouth, the same Mouth who would have a go at someone for copying her. The same mouth who only ever praises or talks about herself. The same mouth who never gives anyone recognition. Do you think when guests comment on her kitchen things that she's going to be honest and say "I copied Miss S' style"? No! No she won't because she is a narcissist!
Argh! I'm so furious. I can't take it. The saying about imitation being flattery, is a load of bullshit. It's not flattery for someone whose suffered the effects of people trying to steal her style for only HER ENTIRE LIFE.
It absolutely boils me to my core. Do not copy me! Especially you, Mouth! I can't stand it, I'm absolutely fuming with anger.
Hubbie and I don't have the biggest house. But with what we have, we try to make the best of it, and put really fine touches to our house to make it unique. We buy quality items, interesting pieces, and all the furnishings show attention to detail and careful planning. Both Mouth and woman have big, new houses. Do they have to take the one thing I have, my style? Do they want that too? What else do they want from me, my life?
Leave me with the one thing I have, please. Leave me that. But no, they had to take it. SHE had to take it.
These obsessive fiery thoughts would not stop going around and around in my head yesterday. I had to talk to Sis. She is awesome, she is so awesome that my next post will be about her, to counteract the angst that is Mouth and everything about her that I despise.
Sis helped me. She tried to get me to see it in a different light. She suggested the conclusions that Hubbie and I had already come to: that we don't tell them where we buy our things in the future - we be vague if ever asked; and that this whole situation was a lesson learnt for the future. She didn't see it in the way I did, because she says she's had a friend copy her thing, and she's even copied another friend for something. But see, it's the way you go about it. My sister is very honest, and would admit to the person how much she loved it and that she was intending to buy one for herself. Mouth however is sneaky. She gives me praise - just enough - but not so much that I thought she really liked it. Then she organised a shopping day with woman, they went off and bought it without a mention of it to Hubbie and I. When it was too late, it was all bought and done.
Hubbie agrees. He's not so hung up on it as I am, but when I asked him, he admitted "I'm spewing." He didn't have to have someone copy him his whole life to make him want to be original and have different things. It's so annoying.
You know what else? We have this other 'kitchen item' a 'coffee machine' (not really, still hypothetical!) that she's asked us about, and I've said that we've bought it in a far-off region. She also knows that some of our other home furnishings are from that 'far-off region.' Guess where Mouth and her family went a couple of weeks ago? To the far-off region! What, you need another coffee machine? Get your own fucking style you leeches!
Geez, do they want to copy our whole house? The thing that peeves me off, is as I said in reference to my Sis, they're not honest. Admit you like it. Say it out loud and MEAN IT. Unlike them, who often snub their noses at things we've seen, things we've bought, and things we've done (like going to the far-off region) and then they explode with fireworks and expect you to shower them with attention when THEY GO!
I know, I know. Narcissists, in every sense of the word.
We're actually going to find a whole new, different, unique and original fruit bowl with matching salt and pepper shakers. In a couple of months we're going to a similar far-off region, and I'm going to go into as many shops there as I can, and find something bigger and better. (See how we have to buy something different because of other, annoying people?)
And THEN when they say "oh, you have different ones?!"
I'M going to say "yes, I like to have truly original pieces unlike anything anyone else has."
And I hope that that boils her and makes her feel PATHETIC. Copy cat.
What I hope for most? That after this realisation I make her come to (and I will) that she will always see my face in her fruit bowl and salt and pepper shakers. Forever.
And I hope she can live with herself for that. Because denial doesn't ever change the fact.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
My friend Karma
I have a very strong faith in Karma. It's something I learnt, in a very hard way when I was 16, whilst at high school and having an intense friendship break-up. People may think 'oh, all that high school melodrama is just a part of growing up.' But the way you interpret your life's dramas, whether big or small, kind of sets you up for the way you'll deal with other tough scenarios for the rest of your life.
And in any of these tough cases I've come across and had to endure, I learnt that whenever there was a difficult person who seemed to be getting away with doing something bad which I couldn't change or help, the expectance of Karma was very much welcomed.
That first time I learnt to depend on Karma at the age of 16, I had to endure many months of strained friendships and life uncertainty before seeing Karma's appearance start to make a change in not only my life for the better, but also appear as the undeniable avenger in the lives of those who had wronged me. When I hadn't known what to do, I'd simply stated "I release this, and believe that Karma will make those pay if they deserve it." I had to focus all of my attention on that thought, and hope and pray that I was right, that retribution would come to those who had asked for it. And slowly but surely, it did. It was a slow process, but in the spate of about 6 months the dynamics had shifted dramatically, and as I sit here today, knowledgable about the lives of those I'd separated from over a decade ago, I'm even more aware now of not only the pure fact of Karma's existence - because it is just that, a fact - but also that the power of positive vs. negative energies is a game in which both sides always win. Just think about that one for a moment.
Not only do I play by Karma's law, because I want to attract good things - but I do so for a genuine reason, I actually do want good, and wish good for others. And I try, try, try not to care too much about the wrong-doings of others, confident in the knowledge that Karma will 'fix them up' if they deserve it. Well, generally confident.
And that's the thought that has lead me to this place. This place of lately feeling like God's avenger, a righter of wrongs that needs to let people know they've done bad. Yes I realise how comical that may sound but it's true. I have this raw instinct in me to let people know when they've pissed me off - yes that quality a lot of people have I'm sure. However at times, depending on how intense I feel about the wrong-doing, and in particularly how often a certain offender may re-offend, I feel even more driven to the extreme border of earth-bound and born retaliator.
Haha, me in terminator gear, how funny. Seriously though, it does get to me. Thankfully, I've once again had my aha! moment in regards to Karma, because of some interesting news I heard yesterday.
No-show-boy, myself and another colleague were having a tea break late last night. He started saying how he'd had a Saturday day shift, the one that's just passed, and was supposed to start at 2pm. Because of some 'things' he had to attend to in the day (and also to the fact he fell asleep on his couch), on top of the fact that he had misinterpreted the 1400 work start time written on his hand to mean 4:00pm, rather than the 2pm reminder it was meant to be, he came into work a little later than usual. And guess who, unknown to him was already at work, waiting for him?
Our boss.
Dum, da dum dum.
She's really a very good boss. She is very accomodating to our out-of-work needs and requirements, and you could say, is very cool.
She's also the sort of person to really let you have it if you take advantage of her easygoing nature, which is what happened to No-show-boy. The other colleague and I sat there wide-mouthed as he told us how she completely went off at him for being late, especially since there had been some kind of request made to our department in regards to an error, and as no one was here to represent our team she was called.
Ouch. That's nasty.
It was only then that I realised what had been happening. Here I was, keeping notes on his absences from work, and counting the minutes he was away from his desk per day (maybe not counting, but I was being a complete tardy-freak), not so I could tell somebody, I'm not a dibby-dobber, more so for my own records to satisfy my curiosity of how far he would push it. Last week I sort of said to myself, quite subconsciously of any Karma that may take part "I'm letting this go, I can't do anything about it. And if he's as bad as I think he is (tardy-wise) then the bosses will EVENTUALLY find out."
And they seriously did, within a week. Not that they didn't know already. Really, you can't keep secrets like those, everyone's true character comes out eventually.
And it made me think. This Karma re-appearing in front of me, made me think that perhaps I should 'let certain things go' about other troublesome characters in my life. Let them go, and the hurt go, so that Karma can swoop in and fix it up for me..... After all, Karma does as its definition is.
It's worth a shot.
There's a quote I heard a while ago that has stuck with me ever since, something I believe you cannot get away from, therefore you must endeavour not to run away from it in the first place.
"No matter how deep you bury your seeds, they will always be unearthed."
And in any of these tough cases I've come across and had to endure, I learnt that whenever there was a difficult person who seemed to be getting away with doing something bad which I couldn't change or help, the expectance of Karma was very much welcomed.
That first time I learnt to depend on Karma at the age of 16, I had to endure many months of strained friendships and life uncertainty before seeing Karma's appearance start to make a change in not only my life for the better, but also appear as the undeniable avenger in the lives of those who had wronged me. When I hadn't known what to do, I'd simply stated "I release this, and believe that Karma will make those pay if they deserve it." I had to focus all of my attention on that thought, and hope and pray that I was right, that retribution would come to those who had asked for it. And slowly but surely, it did. It was a slow process, but in the spate of about 6 months the dynamics had shifted dramatically, and as I sit here today, knowledgable about the lives of those I'd separated from over a decade ago, I'm even more aware now of not only the pure fact of Karma's existence - because it is just that, a fact - but also that the power of positive vs. negative energies is a game in which both sides always win. Just think about that one for a moment.
Not only do I play by Karma's law, because I want to attract good things - but I do so for a genuine reason, I actually do want good, and wish good for others. And I try, try, try not to care too much about the wrong-doings of others, confident in the knowledge that Karma will 'fix them up' if they deserve it. Well, generally confident.
And that's the thought that has lead me to this place. This place of lately feeling like God's avenger, a righter of wrongs that needs to let people know they've done bad. Yes I realise how comical that may sound but it's true. I have this raw instinct in me to let people know when they've pissed me off - yes that quality a lot of people have I'm sure. However at times, depending on how intense I feel about the wrong-doing, and in particularly how often a certain offender may re-offend, I feel even more driven to the extreme border of earth-bound and born retaliator.
Haha, me in terminator gear, how funny. Seriously though, it does get to me. Thankfully, I've once again had my aha! moment in regards to Karma, because of some interesting news I heard yesterday.
No-show-boy, myself and another colleague were having a tea break late last night. He started saying how he'd had a Saturday day shift, the one that's just passed, and was supposed to start at 2pm. Because of some 'things' he had to attend to in the day (and also to the fact he fell asleep on his couch), on top of the fact that he had misinterpreted the 1400 work start time written on his hand to mean 4:00pm, rather than the 2pm reminder it was meant to be, he came into work a little later than usual. And guess who, unknown to him was already at work, waiting for him?
Our boss.
Dum, da dum dum.
She's really a very good boss. She is very accomodating to our out-of-work needs and requirements, and you could say, is very cool.
She's also the sort of person to really let you have it if you take advantage of her easygoing nature, which is what happened to No-show-boy. The other colleague and I sat there wide-mouthed as he told us how she completely went off at him for being late, especially since there had been some kind of request made to our department in regards to an error, and as no one was here to represent our team she was called.
Ouch. That's nasty.
It was only then that I realised what had been happening. Here I was, keeping notes on his absences from work, and counting the minutes he was away from his desk per day (maybe not counting, but I was being a complete tardy-freak), not so I could tell somebody, I'm not a dibby-dobber, more so for my own records to satisfy my curiosity of how far he would push it. Last week I sort of said to myself, quite subconsciously of any Karma that may take part "I'm letting this go, I can't do anything about it. And if he's as bad as I think he is (tardy-wise) then the bosses will EVENTUALLY find out."
And they seriously did, within a week. Not that they didn't know already. Really, you can't keep secrets like those, everyone's true character comes out eventually.
And it made me think. This Karma re-appearing in front of me, made me think that perhaps I should 'let certain things go' about other troublesome characters in my life. Let them go, and the hurt go, so that Karma can swoop in and fix it up for me..... After all, Karma does as its definition is.
It's worth a shot.
There's a quote I heard a while ago that has stuck with me ever since, something I believe you cannot get away from, therefore you must endeavour not to run away from it in the first place.
"No matter how deep you bury your seeds, they will always be unearthed."
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
My Journey Down October Road
I must officially proclaim: I am totally, madly, passionately and obsessively in love with the show October Road.
And now, only 4 episodes (yes 3!) away from the end of the series finale, about to enter into the world of no more October Road forever, I am already in the midst of anticipatory depression.
***Anticipatory depression: When you are already depressed at the prospect of your future depression, i.e., due to a foreseeable event, weather misalignment or greatest-show-on-earth ending event.***
I have found myself so absorbed and enthralled by all the goings-on, characters and story development occurring in the fictional town of Knights Ridge. When I finish watching an episode, I have the episode going around and around in my head, and I can't stop myself from wondering what will happen next. I'm compulsively drawn in, and genuinely love all the characters and the information and back-story continuing to be revealed via them.
I catch myself in a cycle of October Road-endedness, and ask myself, "how the hell did they make such awesome characters? How can I create awesome characters like that for my book?"
And so on and on it goes.
I watched the first season last year, and only now is the 2nd season being shown on tv. Sadly for me, there are only 2 seasons that were ever made, and adding further devastation to my anticipatory depression is the fact that they were half-ass seasons, as in the first season ran 6 episodes (I know!) and the 2nd ran 13. Could they at least have made one full 22 ep season, just to ease my pain, if only a little? Oh, the agony of it!
I feel so miserable about the end of it all. There is an irony, in that although I can't wait to watch all the episodes, another part of me is trying to hold it off, knowing that once I reach the end, there is no more October Road. NO MORE. Ugh. Anticipatory depression kicking into 3rd gear now.
Here are the reasons why I am in love with this magnificent show:
1. Bryan Greenberg. Ahem. Need I say more? Actually I will.
I told Hubbie that Bryan had now taken over David Boreanaz's spot as the most attractive actor in my opinion EVER, and he looked over at me like I had rocks in my head. He said "are you ok?" See, Hubbie always approved of and agreed with my obsession with Angel (sorry David), and so this has thrown him slightly. LOL, I tell him to be flattered, since I think Bryan holds a close resemblance to Hubbie. But anyway.
Yes, Angel, the all-time most gorgeous man alive, has stepped down to number 2. I don't know if it's Bryan's subtle gestures, good guy persona, the guy-that-got-away role that he plays, or if it's just his freaking gorgeous looks, but he is irresistible. Phew. I better move on.
2. The set-up. There's something about these sleepy little town stories that appeal to me. Set in the fictional town of Knights Ridge, when watching I'm often reminded of Dawson's Creek, another of my fave shows. The knowledge of a little town, where everyone knows everyone, nothing is really secret, yet at the same time there is plenty of room for inter-mingling, rendezvous and whispers is greatly appealing to me. Maybe I find the small town concept appealing because it seems more real to me, more so than big-city stories.
Also, the fact that Bryan's character, Nick Garrett (ahhhhhhh:)) has come back to town after being absent for 10 years, provides a FANTASTIC back-drop for all sorts of shit to happen on his return. And boy does it happen. It shows that you can run away from home, but be sure the same issues will be waiting for you when you get back, no matter how much time has passed.
3. The symmetry. LOL. This occurred to me only last week. So, I started watching this late last year, when thoughts of writing started to enter into my head again. As I've continued to watch, simultaneously becoming more determined and motivated with my story and book ideas, I've realised how much I loved the premise of the story: Nick returns to Knights Ridge, 10 years after leaving his hometown following the end of high school, in the meantime having become a best-selling author.
Now I, have dreams of becoming a best-selling author myself, with the goal of finishing my first book by years end. And what do you know? My 10 year high school reunion is coming up at the end of the year:)
You know what, Nick and I just have so much in common, LOLOL:) Granted, I haven't deserted my family and friends and written about them in a round-a-bout way, but something about the likeliness of it all, makes me think I was meant to discover this show, 4 years after its initial release. The characters being of the same generation too, encourages more of a kinship, a relatedness that makes me UNDERSTAND the characters and feel where they're coming from. Who am I kidding, they just simply rock. :)
And that's the other thing. It inspires me soooo much. I can't tell you how many nights I've gone to bed, my head spinning with what I've just watched, and also wondering how I can emulate that strong obsession with the characters and the storyline so that I can have readers out there reading my material, saying to themselves "Oh my gosh, I love this!"
Ahhhhhhh.
This show is powerful I tell ya. It has spoken to me in a strong way. Angel has been kicked off the hottest guy throne (sorry David) to be replaced by dreamy Bryan, and now, October Road is in my list of most fave shows ever. In my list, meaning it holds first place with other tv series of same and differing genre/s.
Having just gone on my obsessive rant, I do realise I haven't yet watched the end of it all, and there is the slight chance that I may be disappointed by what eventuates. I mean, who's to say that everything will unfold as intended and that I'll get my happily ever after? I do see strings of realism dropped into the episodes, a la Angel, so I do fear the worst at times. But having said that, I love Angel, and that was a show that utterly shook me to my core when it ended, with the most incomplete ending you can imagine (with an intended, meaningful incomplete ending of course, before the Angel fans out there kill me) so I highly doubt that October Road will do anything like that....... right?
In the words of Mutant Enemy... "Grrrrr, Argh." I can't take it anymore. I'm going to spontaneously combust over October Road!!!!
And now, only 4 episodes (yes 3!) away from the end of the series finale, about to enter into the world of no more October Road forever, I am already in the midst of anticipatory depression.
***Anticipatory depression: When you are already depressed at the prospect of your future depression, i.e., due to a foreseeable event, weather misalignment or greatest-show-on-earth ending event.***
I have found myself so absorbed and enthralled by all the goings-on, characters and story development occurring in the fictional town of Knights Ridge. When I finish watching an episode, I have the episode going around and around in my head, and I can't stop myself from wondering what will happen next. I'm compulsively drawn in, and genuinely love all the characters and the information and back-story continuing to be revealed via them.
I catch myself in a cycle of October Road-endedness, and ask myself, "how the hell did they make such awesome characters? How can I create awesome characters like that for my book?"
And so on and on it goes.
I watched the first season last year, and only now is the 2nd season being shown on tv. Sadly for me, there are only 2 seasons that were ever made, and adding further devastation to my anticipatory depression is the fact that they were half-ass seasons, as in the first season ran 6 episodes (I know!) and the 2nd ran 13. Could they at least have made one full 22 ep season, just to ease my pain, if only a little? Oh, the agony of it!
I feel so miserable about the end of it all. There is an irony, in that although I can't wait to watch all the episodes, another part of me is trying to hold it off, knowing that once I reach the end, there is no more October Road. NO MORE. Ugh. Anticipatory depression kicking into 3rd gear now.
Here are the reasons why I am in love with this magnificent show:
1. Bryan Greenberg. Ahem. Need I say more? Actually I will.
I told Hubbie that Bryan had now taken over David Boreanaz's spot as the most attractive actor in my opinion EVER, and he looked over at me like I had rocks in my head. He said "are you ok?" See, Hubbie always approved of and agreed with my obsession with Angel (sorry David), and so this has thrown him slightly. LOL, I tell him to be flattered, since I think Bryan holds a close resemblance to Hubbie. But anyway.
Yes, Angel, the all-time most gorgeous man alive, has stepped down to number 2. I don't know if it's Bryan's subtle gestures, good guy persona, the guy-that-got-away role that he plays, or if it's just his freaking gorgeous looks, but he is irresistible. Phew. I better move on.
2. The set-up. There's something about these sleepy little town stories that appeal to me. Set in the fictional town of Knights Ridge, when watching I'm often reminded of Dawson's Creek, another of my fave shows. The knowledge of a little town, where everyone knows everyone, nothing is really secret, yet at the same time there is plenty of room for inter-mingling, rendezvous and whispers is greatly appealing to me. Maybe I find the small town concept appealing because it seems more real to me, more so than big-city stories.
Also, the fact that Bryan's character, Nick Garrett (ahhhhhhh:)) has come back to town after being absent for 10 years, provides a FANTASTIC back-drop for all sorts of shit to happen on his return. And boy does it happen. It shows that you can run away from home, but be sure the same issues will be waiting for you when you get back, no matter how much time has passed.
3. The symmetry. LOL. This occurred to me only last week. So, I started watching this late last year, when thoughts of writing started to enter into my head again. As I've continued to watch, simultaneously becoming more determined and motivated with my story and book ideas, I've realised how much I loved the premise of the story: Nick returns to Knights Ridge, 10 years after leaving his hometown following the end of high school, in the meantime having become a best-selling author.
Now I, have dreams of becoming a best-selling author myself, with the goal of finishing my first book by years end. And what do you know? My 10 year high school reunion is coming up at the end of the year:)
You know what, Nick and I just have so much in common, LOLOL:) Granted, I haven't deserted my family and friends and written about them in a round-a-bout way, but something about the likeliness of it all, makes me think I was meant to discover this show, 4 years after its initial release. The characters being of the same generation too, encourages more of a kinship, a relatedness that makes me UNDERSTAND the characters and feel where they're coming from. Who am I kidding, they just simply rock. :)
And that's the other thing. It inspires me soooo much. I can't tell you how many nights I've gone to bed, my head spinning with what I've just watched, and also wondering how I can emulate that strong obsession with the characters and the storyline so that I can have readers out there reading my material, saying to themselves "Oh my gosh, I love this!"
Ahhhhhhh.
This show is powerful I tell ya. It has spoken to me in a strong way. Angel has been kicked off the hottest guy throne (sorry David) to be replaced by dreamy Bryan, and now, October Road is in my list of most fave shows ever. In my list, meaning it holds first place with other tv series of same and differing genre/s.
Having just gone on my obsessive rant, I do realise I haven't yet watched the end of it all, and there is the slight chance that I may be disappointed by what eventuates. I mean, who's to say that everything will unfold as intended and that I'll get my happily ever after? I do see strings of realism dropped into the episodes, a la Angel, so I do fear the worst at times. But having said that, I love Angel, and that was a show that utterly shook me to my core when it ended, with the most incomplete ending you can imagine (with an intended, meaningful incomplete ending of course, before the Angel fans out there kill me) so I highly doubt that October Road will do anything like that....... right?
In the words of Mutant Enemy... "Grrrrr, Argh." I can't take it anymore. I'm going to spontaneously combust over October Road!!!!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
The Surprise in Me
Have you ever wondered to yourself, if you belong here?
I guess the answer to that might be along the lines of, "what do you define as 'here'?"
These funny thoughts of mine came as a result of Friday night. In the midst of my work marathon (BTW, 8-2 today!) I went out for some work drinks as part of a catch up we had organised with a former work colleague who is recently back in the country. I know, I know, I said my weekend would be void of any drinking, but in defence, I had ONE drink, over the space of 2 hours, and I didn't really enjoy myself. Hence this post.
I was there with only 2 other work people, not including the 'special guest' of the evening being our former work pal, and it was a mildly ok night. However by the end of it, driving home, there was just one continuous thought that could not escape my mind. I don't belong there.
When I first started work at my current employer, the change hit me like a tonne of bricks. I really felt the difference, and I mainly attributed it to ethnic background. All the employers I'd previously worked for had some sort of distinguishable ethnic/cultural background, of which I could easily relate to, due to my own ethnic background. By distinguishable, I mean having a second language, or perhaps living as a second generation Australian, where you still partake in and are an somewhat active participant when it comes to events derived from your parents cultural roots.
And without stereotyping, these sort of people, of who I am clearly a part of, well we are different to the 'others.' We are actively interested in each others lives, we are considerate, and of course the obvious, we have very similar upbringings, having more often than not lived with our parents until marriage, having large families, and a HUGE circle of friends.
Most of the people that work here, are mainly without any cultural associations or have any close ancestral roots. They don't think much of religion, family, and live a fairly wild life. Although I myself am not a preacher, I still firmly believe in a certain kind of religion, and so I have Faith. And at the same time I am a very open believer. I like to see the way different people live, I am open to new things, and I definitely do not judge others. So, although the change was definitely felt, I didn't neccessarily have a freak out about my new surroundings.
It was a very hard first few months. You could even say a hard first year. I found it hard to fit in amongst the very clique-y groups. No one really made an effort with me. I was more used to being babied and catered to when it came to new surroundings. But here I realised that wasn't going to happen. If you didn't talk about your weekend, no one was going to ask. If you didn't try and make friends, no one was going to go out of their way to say hello to you. It was a very fend-for-yourself environment. I am not naturally the loudest person, especially in new situations. And although I'd been building my self-esteem and confidence throughout the years following uni, I still had a long way to go, especially when confronted with what was at work.
However, in time, things sort of fell into place. I think it was both parties coming together at once: I became a bit more foward, and others became a bit more considerate. And I started to realise that the people around here were really pretty good. And they were a lot like me, just trying to get by day to day, fit in, yet have fun. We may all be from different places, but essentially, we all have the same kind of story.
When I'm talking one-on-one with one of my work colleagues, or even if there's a group of us, it's really quite good. We talk, have fun, joke and muck around. As is normal in small teams/departments, you get to really know one other and start to develop your own inside jokes. I really do enjoy the job, I enjoy them, and there are days when something that has been bothering me in my personal non-related work life, just fades away when I'm at work, because things are so easy.
Despite all this, I've noticed more often than not, that when we are all in a social situation, such as having after work drinks, or a colleagues birthday party, that I see the many differences between us all too easily. Perhaps I should re-phrase that. I see all the differences between me and them, all too easily. I used to think that it was just me, and that I needed to speak up more, be more interactive with the group. But knowing how much more confident I am in the workplace now, I really don't believe that to be the case. It's just a case of personality difference.
Either they will bring up a music group, or a song I don't know of. They'll talk about a party they went to, where they had soooooo much fun. A party that I didn't go to, but not because I hadn't been invited; I just didn't feel comfortable, what with their bonging, and smoking behaviour. They'll talk about past friends, past parties. They talk about future gatherings, seedy pubs and bars where they hang out. I know the picture I'm painting of them isn't the nicest, but I did say wild.
And meanwhile I just sit there, smiling, nodding, trying to think of something to say, when I really can't contribute ANYTHING. Because what can I say when I don't like/are a part of/have experienced anything they are saying???
Then when they do start talking about something I can contribute to, by that stage I'm seriously over it. I've started to invert into my shell, I just smile, and nod, and laugh at regular intervals, but I really just want to go home. Which I do end up doing sooner rather than later. I know that they don't do it on purpose, they don't deliberately shut me out. They are just speaking, as a group, so therefore they share their group likes and interests.
So it ends up being a me:them thing. I feel so out of place, so not in my zone, that I can't help being sad. There is nothing I can do, and there is nothing to do, because it's just them being them, and me being me. We're all just being ourselves, which is the most frustrating thing of all.
And it's not that I necessarily hate the difference of interests/likes, the comparison of lifestyles. What I hate is that when they become them, I turn into myself, and go backwards. Instead of opening up and being sure of myself, I become just the opposite. Shy, insecure and nervous. And the fact that they are viewing me as that, well, to them I become that. To them I become shy, insecure and nervous. But I'm not that. To be perceived in that way, is the hardest thing.
I hate it.
And I think that's one of the reasons why I love surprising people so much when it comes to my personality. They think they know me, and BANG!..... they don't.
One of my all-time favourite compliments, is when someone says to me or to someone else "What? Miss S did/said that?"
I love it:)
My earliest memory of ever such a thing, was when I was 16. I had decided during the summer, inspired by Dawson Leery of His-name Creek fame, that I was going to make a documentary of my friends and I over the summer. It was going to be about the transitional period of our lives at that moment, what with growing up, merging into V.C.E, and starting to make future choices for ourselves. It was also going to be biographical, in discovering all of our likes, dislikes, catfights, objects of affection, and most importantly, our friendships with one another.
One thing I did, was when we were in a group environment one day, I got everyone to speak about one person, one of the girls in our group, so that not only we could share our experiences about that person, but so that the person would also get a sense of what they meant to us and how they were perceived. It was perhaps one of the most fun, enlightening and heart-warming things we ever did as a group, as every person that day went home feeling light, happy and loved. I remember my bit, obviously because I edited it old-school way but also because I have it on VCR (!), but my friends cried out "hey! we need to do it on Miss S!"
And so it began, they started listing all my qualities, personality traits. And one of the girls there, said "Miss S is mysterious. You think you know her and then she goes and does something totally unexpected!" They all agreed, talking about times when they'd heard I'd done or said something, the surprising news always ending with "What? Miss S did that??!!"
My best friend, Red, said then "Yes, but that's what she loves. She wants to be mysterious."
Ahhh yes. And that's why Red is still my best friend.
I've never forgotten that moment. Just a fleeting, passing conversation, but it has always stuck in my head. It struck a chord with me, because it was the moment that I myself realised, that what my other friend had said then was true. I was mysterious. And as Red had added, I liked it.
Funnily enough, the friend who actually brought it up, well we're not friends anymore, we had a falling out soon after. But she will always have this weird, unexplained place in my heart, because of what she said. It remains one of my most favourite compliments ever.
And similarly, only a week ago, I had a stressed out work moment. I was working on something, and once I had almost finished I realised that my initial calculations about my project were wrong. It was the end of the day, I had wanted to finish more work, but now all I wanted to do was go home. And I was going to go home unhappy because I hadn't achieved what I'd wanted to for the day. Well, I decided to look at it fresh the next day, but not before leaving a passing goodbye for the wretched thing. I left a comment along the lines of "F*#^ing giving up!"
The next day when I came in, my overnight suspicions had come true: my boss had seen my comment. Luckily enough she was cruisy about it, we had a laugh, and after I assured her that no, I didn't need anyone else to finish it, I just needed the overnight break, I went on with my work. When I spoke about the funny incident to a work colleague, she was laughing, saying that our boss had actually brought it up with her, and had made the comment "Miss S wrote this! I couldn't believe it when I saw it!"
We laughed some more, but even later on I had a small smile that played on my lips, as I realised my great joy at having someone be surprised by my actions. Knowing that they didn't know me as much as they think they did, and therefore, I wasn't the person, the shy, insecure and nervous person that they thought I was, brought me great satisfaction.
And that's what it comes down to I think. Yes, I like portraying myself as a mysterious person. For a fact, I know that people can't get to know me, until I let them. When I'm with MY people, I am Miss S. Confident, talkative, friendly, funny and cheeky all in one. But when I'm not in my zone, I feel out of place, and that's when unfortunately, I revert to bad habits. I become who I'm not, and when others perceive me as something that I definitely am not, that's when it hurts. Because I'm so much more than the protective outer shell I put on display.
So when people who think they know me, discover a crack in my hard case, and suddenly a bright shining light filters through, they get a glimpse of who I am...... and that's when I get happy.
I want to be seen as me. As the true shining person I am.
As essentially, basically and deeply,
as naturally, magnificently and truly,
as only,
always, Miss S.
I guess the answer to that might be along the lines of, "what do you define as 'here'?"
These funny thoughts of mine came as a result of Friday night. In the midst of my work marathon (BTW, 8-2 today!) I went out for some work drinks as part of a catch up we had organised with a former work colleague who is recently back in the country. I know, I know, I said my weekend would be void of any drinking, but in defence, I had ONE drink, over the space of 2 hours, and I didn't really enjoy myself. Hence this post.
I was there with only 2 other work people, not including the 'special guest' of the evening being our former work pal, and it was a mildly ok night. However by the end of it, driving home, there was just one continuous thought that could not escape my mind. I don't belong there.
When I first started work at my current employer, the change hit me like a tonne of bricks. I really felt the difference, and I mainly attributed it to ethnic background. All the employers I'd previously worked for had some sort of distinguishable ethnic/cultural background, of which I could easily relate to, due to my own ethnic background. By distinguishable, I mean having a second language, or perhaps living as a second generation Australian, where you still partake in and are an somewhat active participant when it comes to events derived from your parents cultural roots.
And without stereotyping, these sort of people, of who I am clearly a part of, well we are different to the 'others.' We are actively interested in each others lives, we are considerate, and of course the obvious, we have very similar upbringings, having more often than not lived with our parents until marriage, having large families, and a HUGE circle of friends.
Most of the people that work here, are mainly without any cultural associations or have any close ancestral roots. They don't think much of religion, family, and live a fairly wild life. Although I myself am not a preacher, I still firmly believe in a certain kind of religion, and so I have Faith. And at the same time I am a very open believer. I like to see the way different people live, I am open to new things, and I definitely do not judge others. So, although the change was definitely felt, I didn't neccessarily have a freak out about my new surroundings.
It was a very hard first few months. You could even say a hard first year. I found it hard to fit in amongst the very clique-y groups. No one really made an effort with me. I was more used to being babied and catered to when it came to new surroundings. But here I realised that wasn't going to happen. If you didn't talk about your weekend, no one was going to ask. If you didn't try and make friends, no one was going to go out of their way to say hello to you. It was a very fend-for-yourself environment. I am not naturally the loudest person, especially in new situations. And although I'd been building my self-esteem and confidence throughout the years following uni, I still had a long way to go, especially when confronted with what was at work.
However, in time, things sort of fell into place. I think it was both parties coming together at once: I became a bit more foward, and others became a bit more considerate. And I started to realise that the people around here were really pretty good. And they were a lot like me, just trying to get by day to day, fit in, yet have fun. We may all be from different places, but essentially, we all have the same kind of story.
When I'm talking one-on-one with one of my work colleagues, or even if there's a group of us, it's really quite good. We talk, have fun, joke and muck around. As is normal in small teams/departments, you get to really know one other and start to develop your own inside jokes. I really do enjoy the job, I enjoy them, and there are days when something that has been bothering me in my personal non-related work life, just fades away when I'm at work, because things are so easy.
Despite all this, I've noticed more often than not, that when we are all in a social situation, such as having after work drinks, or a colleagues birthday party, that I see the many differences between us all too easily. Perhaps I should re-phrase that. I see all the differences between me and them, all too easily. I used to think that it was just me, and that I needed to speak up more, be more interactive with the group. But knowing how much more confident I am in the workplace now, I really don't believe that to be the case. It's just a case of personality difference.
Either they will bring up a music group, or a song I don't know of. They'll talk about a party they went to, where they had soooooo much fun. A party that I didn't go to, but not because I hadn't been invited; I just didn't feel comfortable, what with their bonging, and smoking behaviour. They'll talk about past friends, past parties. They talk about future gatherings, seedy pubs and bars where they hang out. I know the picture I'm painting of them isn't the nicest, but I did say wild.
And meanwhile I just sit there, smiling, nodding, trying to think of something to say, when I really can't contribute ANYTHING. Because what can I say when I don't like/are a part of/have experienced anything they are saying???
Then when they do start talking about something I can contribute to, by that stage I'm seriously over it. I've started to invert into my shell, I just smile, and nod, and laugh at regular intervals, but I really just want to go home. Which I do end up doing sooner rather than later. I know that they don't do it on purpose, they don't deliberately shut me out. They are just speaking, as a group, so therefore they share their group likes and interests.
So it ends up being a me:them thing. I feel so out of place, so not in my zone, that I can't help being sad. There is nothing I can do, and there is nothing to do, because it's just them being them, and me being me. We're all just being ourselves, which is the most frustrating thing of all.
And it's not that I necessarily hate the difference of interests/likes, the comparison of lifestyles. What I hate is that when they become them, I turn into myself, and go backwards. Instead of opening up and being sure of myself, I become just the opposite. Shy, insecure and nervous. And the fact that they are viewing me as that, well, to them I become that. To them I become shy, insecure and nervous. But I'm not that. To be perceived in that way, is the hardest thing.
I hate it.
And I think that's one of the reasons why I love surprising people so much when it comes to my personality. They think they know me, and BANG!..... they don't.
One of my all-time favourite compliments, is when someone says to me or to someone else "What? Miss S did/said that?"
I love it:)
My earliest memory of ever such a thing, was when I was 16. I had decided during the summer, inspired by Dawson Leery of His-name Creek fame, that I was going to make a documentary of my friends and I over the summer. It was going to be about the transitional period of our lives at that moment, what with growing up, merging into V.C.E, and starting to make future choices for ourselves. It was also going to be biographical, in discovering all of our likes, dislikes, catfights, objects of affection, and most importantly, our friendships with one another.
One thing I did, was when we were in a group environment one day, I got everyone to speak about one person, one of the girls in our group, so that not only we could share our experiences about that person, but so that the person would also get a sense of what they meant to us and how they were perceived. It was perhaps one of the most fun, enlightening and heart-warming things we ever did as a group, as every person that day went home feeling light, happy and loved. I remember my bit, obviously because I edited it old-school way but also because I have it on VCR (!), but my friends cried out "hey! we need to do it on Miss S!"
And so it began, they started listing all my qualities, personality traits. And one of the girls there, said "Miss S is mysterious. You think you know her and then she goes and does something totally unexpected!" They all agreed, talking about times when they'd heard I'd done or said something, the surprising news always ending with "What? Miss S did that??!!"
My best friend, Red, said then "Yes, but that's what she loves. She wants to be mysterious."
Ahhh yes. And that's why Red is still my best friend.
I've never forgotten that moment. Just a fleeting, passing conversation, but it has always stuck in my head. It struck a chord with me, because it was the moment that I myself realised, that what my other friend had said then was true. I was mysterious. And as Red had added, I liked it.
Funnily enough, the friend who actually brought it up, well we're not friends anymore, we had a falling out soon after. But she will always have this weird, unexplained place in my heart, because of what she said. It remains one of my most favourite compliments ever.
And similarly, only a week ago, I had a stressed out work moment. I was working on something, and once I had almost finished I realised that my initial calculations about my project were wrong. It was the end of the day, I had wanted to finish more work, but now all I wanted to do was go home. And I was going to go home unhappy because I hadn't achieved what I'd wanted to for the day. Well, I decided to look at it fresh the next day, but not before leaving a passing goodbye for the wretched thing. I left a comment along the lines of "F*#^ing giving up!"
The next day when I came in, my overnight suspicions had come true: my boss had seen my comment. Luckily enough she was cruisy about it, we had a laugh, and after I assured her that no, I didn't need anyone else to finish it, I just needed the overnight break, I went on with my work. When I spoke about the funny incident to a work colleague, she was laughing, saying that our boss had actually brought it up with her, and had made the comment "Miss S wrote this! I couldn't believe it when I saw it!"
We laughed some more, but even later on I had a small smile that played on my lips, as I realised my great joy at having someone be surprised by my actions. Knowing that they didn't know me as much as they think they did, and therefore, I wasn't the person, the shy, insecure and nervous person that they thought I was, brought me great satisfaction.
And that's what it comes down to I think. Yes, I like portraying myself as a mysterious person. For a fact, I know that people can't get to know me, until I let them. When I'm with MY people, I am Miss S. Confident, talkative, friendly, funny and cheeky all in one. But when I'm not in my zone, I feel out of place, and that's when unfortunately, I revert to bad habits. I become who I'm not, and when others perceive me as something that I definitely am not, that's when it hurts. Because I'm so much more than the protective outer shell I put on display.
So when people who think they know me, discover a crack in my hard case, and suddenly a bright shining light filters through, they get a glimpse of who I am...... and that's when I get happy.
I want to be seen as me. As the true shining person I am.
As essentially, basically and deeply,
as naturally, magnificently and truly,
as only,
always, Miss S.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
My Weird Dream
Two nights ago I had this weird dream. Weird not because of what I dreamt, I think it was more weird due to the emphasis of what happened, particularly since it wasn't something extraordinary that happened in the dream.
In my dream, which I think involved high school themes, (as in people from high school, the buildings at the school, etc, it's all quite a blur as dreams usually are) I could see myself. Not like seeing myself in an out-of-body context, but you know where you can see yourself doing things in your dream? Yeah like that. Only I actually saw myself, peering around the corner at myself. Yes weird number one, me looking at me.
There was also someone there, or more than one person there I'm not too sure, but it was someone from my high school days, that's the vibe I got. I think perhaps two dreams got mixed up there. (!) And as my sneaky self watched around the corner at my unaware self, my unaware self, just dressed in casual clothes, with my hair tied up in a ponytail, started to sneeze.
Once, twice, three times.
And not a little 'achoo.' These sneezes were with feeling. They were big, grand, and each one was a bit stronger than the last. I remember the last one quite clearly. As I breathed in deeply, I sneezed for the third time, and after it I exhaled, heavily, like that sneeze had taken every bit of emotion and energy out of me. I almost looked tired.
And that was it.
So can you see why I find it weird?
I like to analyse dreams, and try to work out my own in the process. I guess growing up, and listening to my parents tell stories from their childhood, has heavily influenced me. They grew up in a decade, country and time where people heavily spoke of "things" happening. There were ghost stories, only they weren't just made up fables to keep the kids from being too curious and adventurous, designed to keep them indoors and out of trouble. No, the stories they spoke of were of events that had happened, either to them, or someone they knew.
I know what you're thinking, and no, they're not urban legends, as familiar as the line "it happened to my mum's father..." sounds. I know this for sure, even though I haven't lived through it myself. My parents are not the sort to deliberately frighten you, and so the fact that they even told these stories, means there is some meaning to them. In fact, if as a child I had said, in response to one of these tales, "I'm scared to sleep now," instead of saying, "it was only a story," I would get a response like, "just don't think about it, that was then."
Just that thought alone makes me more confident in everything I've ever heard. I don't know why I don't hear stories of things like that happening nowadays, but part of me thinks, in line with The Secret, that the more you talk about a certain thing and believe in it, the more that thing will come to you. As people don't talk much about superstition nowadays, especially compared to let's say a century ago, I think these incidences don't occur as often. And when they do, in the new millenium of technology, they are ignored or not spoken of.
I might have even myself wondered whether or not my grandparents made up stories to scare my mum and dad when they were kids. But the fact that some of these stories actually come from my parents' experiences directly, supports my faith in them.
What are these "things" you may ask? Incidences involving a whole lot of spooky stuff, to sum it up. Lots of superstition, dark "things," black cats, and spirits, influenced quite heavily by religion. By this I mean that any sort of blasphemy or disrespect towards God brought about heavy penalties, in the form of weird things happening to the offender.
Along with these superstitions and stories, dreams were also looked at and analysed in the process, in order to gain an insight into why things happened, and what could happen in the future. When I think of some of the dreams I've heard, some of them so literal to the point that death in the dream actually resulted in death and life meant life, well, there's really no way to deny or ignore the truth. Although some dreams are literal, and other more of a metaphor to summarise something happening in your life, or something about to happen, I think it's hard to say there is no meaning.
And so, in coming back to my dream, it's because of all this that I take such interest in analysing them. My immediate thought, in thinking of my dream, was that it was such an ordinary event, but as I said, the emphasis on the ordinary, MADE it that much more interesting.
Firstly the sneeze. I thought "that's good." Good, because I saw it as an expression, something good coming out. I thought of what sneezes mean, and by that I don't mean that you have an itch in your nose and you get an urge to sneeze, I mean that with my parents, we have a common belief that if you or someone else is talking and one of you sneezes, what had been recently spoken of was true. Yes, a belief from the old school days. Every time we're talking and someone sneezes, my mum will say in her native tongue, "truth." So naturally, "truth" came to my mind when I started analysing.
I was at work when my dream came back to me, so I started looking up online dream dictionaries. I was curious about what some of the meanings of sneezing in your dream would mean.
One of the first web sites I came across defined this as something happy and joyful happening in my life. So that matched with my first assumption of what it meant.
But as I continued to search, not content with just the one definition, I started to look at my dream more deeply.
I thought of the fact that my hair was up - that was the first huge indicator for me. Hair generally means problems, so the fact that it was tied up and out of my way, suggested to me that some problems were going to be out of the way. And the hair being up, IS significant, as my everyday preference is wearing it down.
Secondly, I thought of the way in how I sneezed. It was with a lot of energy. The sneezing could represent a release of some kind, something from within me coming out. So that coupled with the emotion I did it with, I started to look at my dream from the perspective that some problem in my life, was going to go away. Something negative presently, was going to come out.
And yes, almost every other sneezing definition I found was also supporting that theory. All web sites pointed to sneezing being a metaphor for something being released, a negative something or someone leaving your life. A great web site I found in the midst of all this searching was sleeps.com. It made a lot of sense, and confirmed some dream-related queries I'd had for a while. Ever had a dream, look up the symbology in it and walk away wondering, "hmm, I don't know that I'm going to be starting another line of studying, but hey if the dream definition says so....." and the definition is just so not compatible with your current life, that you have to wonder? Well I raise my hand here. This site, and many others, were based around the central idea that you cannot reduce a dream you have to a single symbol, and you cannot go to a dictionary to find that symbol meaning, and expect it to relate to you. All dreams are subjective. A sneeze may mean release for me, but sickness to someone who has been sneezing lately. A range of things need to be looked at in order to analyse a dream, such as what the things in your dream mean to you, just in general, the word associations connected with your dream symbology, and a range of other things. A dream dictionary should only really be referred to if you have absolutely no association with something you dream of, if there is something you are especially neutral to.
Which makes absolute perfect sense. It's all about analysing the dream, and seeing what it means for you.
So in the end? I've come to the conclusion that given my every day association with sneezing, my dream symbology of hair, the emotion displayed in the dream, added with some of the definitions I found here and there on the web, that something negative, whether it be person or thing, will be released from my life soon. Which is great! I think this will bring out a lot of emotion, (hence the release from my sneeze) and the problem will be behind me once it is all over (the hair tied up).
There is A person in my life at the moment, who I am not particularly fond of. However this person is in the family, and so I don't know if they could really be put behind me forever. That is just not possible. However, perhaps my issue with them will be resolved. OR I may just give them a piece of my mind, and the WHOLE truth will come out. Now that's just scary.
I'll keep you informed if something happens. In the meantime, keep on dreamin'.
In my dream, which I think involved high school themes, (as in people from high school, the buildings at the school, etc, it's all quite a blur as dreams usually are) I could see myself. Not like seeing myself in an out-of-body context, but you know where you can see yourself doing things in your dream? Yeah like that. Only I actually saw myself, peering around the corner at myself. Yes weird number one, me looking at me.
There was also someone there, or more than one person there I'm not too sure, but it was someone from my high school days, that's the vibe I got. I think perhaps two dreams got mixed up there. (!) And as my sneaky self watched around the corner at my unaware self, my unaware self, just dressed in casual clothes, with my hair tied up in a ponytail, started to sneeze.
Once, twice, three times.
And not a little 'achoo.' These sneezes were with feeling. They were big, grand, and each one was a bit stronger than the last. I remember the last one quite clearly. As I breathed in deeply, I sneezed for the third time, and after it I exhaled, heavily, like that sneeze had taken every bit of emotion and energy out of me. I almost looked tired.
And that was it.
So can you see why I find it weird?
I like to analyse dreams, and try to work out my own in the process. I guess growing up, and listening to my parents tell stories from their childhood, has heavily influenced me. They grew up in a decade, country and time where people heavily spoke of "things" happening. There were ghost stories, only they weren't just made up fables to keep the kids from being too curious and adventurous, designed to keep them indoors and out of trouble. No, the stories they spoke of were of events that had happened, either to them, or someone they knew.
I know what you're thinking, and no, they're not urban legends, as familiar as the line "it happened to my mum's father..." sounds. I know this for sure, even though I haven't lived through it myself. My parents are not the sort to deliberately frighten you, and so the fact that they even told these stories, means there is some meaning to them. In fact, if as a child I had said, in response to one of these tales, "I'm scared to sleep now," instead of saying, "it was only a story," I would get a response like, "just don't think about it, that was then."
Just that thought alone makes me more confident in everything I've ever heard. I don't know why I don't hear stories of things like that happening nowadays, but part of me thinks, in line with The Secret, that the more you talk about a certain thing and believe in it, the more that thing will come to you. As people don't talk much about superstition nowadays, especially compared to let's say a century ago, I think these incidences don't occur as often. And when they do, in the new millenium of technology, they are ignored or not spoken of.
I might have even myself wondered whether or not my grandparents made up stories to scare my mum and dad when they were kids. But the fact that some of these stories actually come from my parents' experiences directly, supports my faith in them.
What are these "things" you may ask? Incidences involving a whole lot of spooky stuff, to sum it up. Lots of superstition, dark "things," black cats, and spirits, influenced quite heavily by religion. By this I mean that any sort of blasphemy or disrespect towards God brought about heavy penalties, in the form of weird things happening to the offender.
Along with these superstitions and stories, dreams were also looked at and analysed in the process, in order to gain an insight into why things happened, and what could happen in the future. When I think of some of the dreams I've heard, some of them so literal to the point that death in the dream actually resulted in death and life meant life, well, there's really no way to deny or ignore the truth. Although some dreams are literal, and other more of a metaphor to summarise something happening in your life, or something about to happen, I think it's hard to say there is no meaning.
And so, in coming back to my dream, it's because of all this that I take such interest in analysing them. My immediate thought, in thinking of my dream, was that it was such an ordinary event, but as I said, the emphasis on the ordinary, MADE it that much more interesting.
Firstly the sneeze. I thought "that's good." Good, because I saw it as an expression, something good coming out. I thought of what sneezes mean, and by that I don't mean that you have an itch in your nose and you get an urge to sneeze, I mean that with my parents, we have a common belief that if you or someone else is talking and one of you sneezes, what had been recently spoken of was true. Yes, a belief from the old school days. Every time we're talking and someone sneezes, my mum will say in her native tongue, "truth." So naturally, "truth" came to my mind when I started analysing.
I was at work when my dream came back to me, so I started looking up online dream dictionaries. I was curious about what some of the meanings of sneezing in your dream would mean.
One of the first web sites I came across defined this as something happy and joyful happening in my life. So that matched with my first assumption of what it meant.
But as I continued to search, not content with just the one definition, I started to look at my dream more deeply.
I thought of the fact that my hair was up - that was the first huge indicator for me. Hair generally means problems, so the fact that it was tied up and out of my way, suggested to me that some problems were going to be out of the way. And the hair being up, IS significant, as my everyday preference is wearing it down.
Secondly, I thought of the way in how I sneezed. It was with a lot of energy. The sneezing could represent a release of some kind, something from within me coming out. So that coupled with the emotion I did it with, I started to look at my dream from the perspective that some problem in my life, was going to go away. Something negative presently, was going to come out.
And yes, almost every other sneezing definition I found was also supporting that theory. All web sites pointed to sneezing being a metaphor for something being released, a negative something or someone leaving your life. A great web site I found in the midst of all this searching was sleeps.com. It made a lot of sense, and confirmed some dream-related queries I'd had for a while. Ever had a dream, look up the symbology in it and walk away wondering, "hmm, I don't know that I'm going to be starting another line of studying, but hey if the dream definition says so....." and the definition is just so not compatible with your current life, that you have to wonder? Well I raise my hand here. This site, and many others, were based around the central idea that you cannot reduce a dream you have to a single symbol, and you cannot go to a dictionary to find that symbol meaning, and expect it to relate to you. All dreams are subjective. A sneeze may mean release for me, but sickness to someone who has been sneezing lately. A range of things need to be looked at in order to analyse a dream, such as what the things in your dream mean to you, just in general, the word associations connected with your dream symbology, and a range of other things. A dream dictionary should only really be referred to if you have absolutely no association with something you dream of, if there is something you are especially neutral to.
Which makes absolute perfect sense. It's all about analysing the dream, and seeing what it means for you.
So in the end? I've come to the conclusion that given my every day association with sneezing, my dream symbology of hair, the emotion displayed in the dream, added with some of the definitions I found here and there on the web, that something negative, whether it be person or thing, will be released from my life soon. Which is great! I think this will bring out a lot of emotion, (hence the release from my sneeze) and the problem will be behind me once it is all over (the hair tied up).
There is A person in my life at the moment, who I am not particularly fond of. However this person is in the family, and so I don't know if they could really be put behind me forever. That is just not possible. However, perhaps my issue with them will be resolved. OR I may just give them a piece of my mind, and the WHOLE truth will come out. Now that's just scary.
I'll keep you informed if something happens. In the meantime, keep on dreamin'.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)