Now Playing: Two Way Street (Live at Sing Sing) by Kimbra (you wake me from the slumbers of my head, from the slums of loneliness)
I've just noticed an absurd amount of typos and other random things on my blog.
I'm sorry :(
I hope you guys are all smart enough to get the gist of what I'm trying to say, even with typos and random half finished sentences.
I don't have an editor - I fly JetStar, how many servants do you think I have? I type really, really fast, often with frozen fingers and formerly on a very temperamental wireless keyboard before I caved and switched avant-garde for FUNCTIONS NORMALLY (granted, it is hard to expect any keyboard to function normally when you've got your back to your computer and it's balanced on your knee whilst you wrestle the dog away from your ramen noodles. Oh, the things I got up to when I was fourteen...) That and the fact that I'm nearly always doing something else whilst I'm blogging; listening to music, downloading music, playing solitaire, writing an email, doing the homework, absent-mindedly surfing the net, doing open heart sugery...Further, the writing process begins before I sit down and start writing; I just collect ideas in my head, in a little virtual notebook; if you see me mumbling to myself (silently, because I have been beaten up for that before) I'm normally wrestling with wording, as in how to word the ideas in my head into something coherent enough for my blog. But by the time I get home, all I have are half-formed jokes and unfinished trains of thought and rather mindless rambles and it's all rather...convoluted. It takes a lot of thinking, a lot of experimenting, some surreptitious Googling, a lot of cut copy paste (of my own work! I do believe in academic integrity!) of paragraphs (if ideas get a bit extra-chronological it's because I had a moment of 'wouldn't it be clever of me if I stuck this paragraph here!), and a lot of backspace-key-raping to get something I'm happy with, and even then, I've never been very good at proofreading until after I've clicked 'publish' - the irony is, I never really use the 'preview' button. Ever. So out of this process, it's actually quite amazing that, most of the time, my posts are vaguely readable.
I learned what little I know about html from my lovely nerdy Wikipedia-editing days; I'm still not very good at it, but the html required for blogger is really not that hard...until it fucks up. If there are random huge gulfs between paragraphs, or other random thingies, it's because I've tried and failed to wrestle with html. Italicizing, putting things in bold type...it works at the click of a button...never at all, actually. There's a little glitch in the system and it's bloody annoying.
Oh, the irony. I'm tacking this paragraph on the morning after. This post ended a little abruptly, eh?
Well, I'm still multitasking. In a weird moment of nostalgia I bought Coco Pops for the first time in ages, and now I'm sitting here feeling like a six year old with no concept of BMI. ;)
Saturday, June 30, 2012
The Gay Marriage Debate
Now Playing: I'm Not Calling You a Liar by Florence + The Machine (and when you kiss me I am happy enough to die)
Think about the gay marriage debate this way.
It doesn't matter if you 'agree' with it or not. It doesn't matter if you think homosexuality is 'good' or 'bad'. It doesn't matter if you're religious or not, or if your religion forbids or tolerates homosexuality. Gay marriage should be legal.
You know why? Because it is a legal matter.
I am not religious. I don't see myself converting to any religion at all at any point in my future. Obviously, that might change. But for now, I am very happy as an atheist. I am at peace with my own personal beliefs and values, and I've never violated them. As part of this, when I get married, I would get married in a civil ceremony; i.e. a marriage that is legally, but not religiously binding. It's still a marriage. It's still a wedding. It's still husband and wife. Marriage is still very, very important to me; I'm just like any other teenage girl in that I've always dreamed of a beautiful wedding. I just don't want to be dragged down an aisle like a cow at a market and given away like a pretty posession, or forced to endure hours and hours of sermons from a religion that probably doesn't approve of my existence.
I was shocked when I realized that very few people understand the concept of civil marriage. I guess it's a reflection of the ridiculously heavy Judeo-Christian influence on Australian society, but you don't actually have to get married by a priest, and you most definitely don't have to get married in a church. Can you believe I actually had a massive fight with someone over this that only ended when he googled 'civil marriage' and sheepishly conceded defeat? The reason why marriages - all marriages, from all religions or from no religion - is recognised is because there are two parts to a marriage; the religious part, and the legal part. You are religiously married when you say 'I do'. Somewhat unromantically, you are legally married when you sign on the dotted line. Why else do you think there is the Signing of the Registry?
Why am I harping on about this? Because marriage can be considered as a purely legal matter. It is everyone's right to marry whomever they choose, and marriage confers upon someone the rights and responsibilities every couple has the right to enjoy. And because there is no legal objection to homosexuality, there should be no legal objection to gay marriage.
There are some people out there who say that they agree with 'civil union', but not 'marriage' for gay people; something that just reinforces the fact that people still only consider marriage to be a religious convenant, and that people don't understand the concept of civil marriage. There is no real difference between 'civil union' and 'civil marriage', just as there is no real difference between 'marriage' and a 'de facto' relationship; not under Australian law, anyway. But it's a matter of human dignity. If you want to get married, get married, and call it 'marriage'. I don't see anyone trying to convince conservative Christians to live in sin under the pretext that there isn't much difference between a 'marriage' and a 'common law marriage'.
As for people who say that they don't agree with homosexuality, or gay marriage, it...really isn't any of their business, to put it frankly. Put it this way. Legally, I am allowed to live with someone, and have premarital sex or whatever; and I know some people don't believe in that, and that's fine. We're not forcing anyone to sleep around, just like we're not forcing anyone to be gay. But these people shouldn't have a say in another person's personal life; as citizens, we don't have the right to choose who other citizens can and can't marry.
As a matter of religious freedom, I respect the right of religious groups to refuse to conduct gay marriages. It doesn't matter what you think, or believe, or feel; as a matter of human dignity, gay marriage should be legal, everywhere.
Think about the gay marriage debate this way.
It doesn't matter if you 'agree' with it or not. It doesn't matter if you think homosexuality is 'good' or 'bad'. It doesn't matter if you're religious or not, or if your religion forbids or tolerates homosexuality. Gay marriage should be legal.
You know why? Because it is a legal matter.
I am not religious. I don't see myself converting to any religion at all at any point in my future. Obviously, that might change. But for now, I am very happy as an atheist. I am at peace with my own personal beliefs and values, and I've never violated them. As part of this, when I get married, I would get married in a civil ceremony; i.e. a marriage that is legally, but not religiously binding. It's still a marriage. It's still a wedding. It's still husband and wife. Marriage is still very, very important to me; I'm just like any other teenage girl in that I've always dreamed of a beautiful wedding. I just don't want to be dragged down an aisle like a cow at a market and given away like a pretty posession, or forced to endure hours and hours of sermons from a religion that probably doesn't approve of my existence.
I was shocked when I realized that very few people understand the concept of civil marriage. I guess it's a reflection of the ridiculously heavy Judeo-Christian influence on Australian society, but you don't actually have to get married by a priest, and you most definitely don't have to get married in a church. Can you believe I actually had a massive fight with someone over this that only ended when he googled 'civil marriage' and sheepishly conceded defeat? The reason why marriages - all marriages, from all religions or from no religion - is recognised is because there are two parts to a marriage; the religious part, and the legal part. You are religiously married when you say 'I do'. Somewhat unromantically, you are legally married when you sign on the dotted line. Why else do you think there is the Signing of the Registry?
Why am I harping on about this? Because marriage can be considered as a purely legal matter. It is everyone's right to marry whomever they choose, and marriage confers upon someone the rights and responsibilities every couple has the right to enjoy. And because there is no legal objection to homosexuality, there should be no legal objection to gay marriage.
There are some people out there who say that they agree with 'civil union', but not 'marriage' for gay people; something that just reinforces the fact that people still only consider marriage to be a religious convenant, and that people don't understand the concept of civil marriage. There is no real difference between 'civil union' and 'civil marriage', just as there is no real difference between 'marriage' and a 'de facto' relationship; not under Australian law, anyway. But it's a matter of human dignity. If you want to get married, get married, and call it 'marriage'. I don't see anyone trying to convince conservative Christians to live in sin under the pretext that there isn't much difference between a 'marriage' and a 'common law marriage'.
As for people who say that they don't agree with homosexuality, or gay marriage, it...really isn't any of their business, to put it frankly. Put it this way. Legally, I am allowed to live with someone, and have premarital sex or whatever; and I know some people don't believe in that, and that's fine. We're not forcing anyone to sleep around, just like we're not forcing anyone to be gay. But these people shouldn't have a say in another person's personal life; as citizens, we don't have the right to choose who other citizens can and can't marry.
As a matter of religious freedom, I respect the right of religious groups to refuse to conduct gay marriages. It doesn't matter what you think, or believe, or feel; as a matter of human dignity, gay marriage should be legal, everywhere.
Friday, June 29, 2012
A Thousand Thousand Fearless Things #51
Now Playing: What Makes You Beautiful by One Direction (being the way that you are is enough)
#431: Sleep deprivation. Makes me regress into early childhood. And giggle at absolutely everything.
#432: For the love of peace, my loveable motherfucker, I was only stretching!
#433: English speech. Shaky.
#434: STOP PUTTING PAPER IN MY TEA WOMAN!!!!
#435: Such is the power of lace that it doesn't even matter if nobody sees it but you.
#436: I don't know if I can accurately describe the exquisite agony of getting apple cider vinegar in a papercut.
#437: Today was not the day to forget my leaver's jumper. Freaking. Cold.
#438: I am an English student, not a standup comedian. This was assessed work, not some joke. Don't you dare heckle me ever again.
#439: ATAR predictions. The world's biggest scam.
#440: Breakfast with the boss cancelled. We're all heartbroken.
#441: I believe you now.
#442: I haven't had oysters in aaaaaaages. Not that I really need them, you know, but...
#431: Sleep deprivation. Makes me regress into early childhood. And giggle at absolutely everything.
#432: For the love of peace, my loveable motherfucker, I was only stretching!
#433: English speech. Shaky.
#434: STOP PUTTING PAPER IN MY TEA WOMAN!!!!
#435: Such is the power of lace that it doesn't even matter if nobody sees it but you.
#436: I don't know if I can accurately describe the exquisite agony of getting apple cider vinegar in a papercut.
#437: Today was not the day to forget my leaver's jumper. Freaking. Cold.
#438: I am an English student, not a standup comedian. This was assessed work, not some joke. Don't you dare heckle me ever again.
#439: ATAR predictions. The world's biggest scam.
#440: Breakfast with the boss cancelled. We're all heartbroken.
#441: I believe you now.
#442: I haven't had oysters in aaaaaaages. Not that I really need them, you know, but...
What Makes You Beautiful.
Now Playing: Believe Again by Delta Goodrem (I lost my faith in love, tonight I believe again.)
If you've told me that I'm beautiful, I didn't believe you.
I'm sorry, but I can't.
Most people don't know this, but when I'm not around people I'm very quiet. I keep to myself, in my own world. And I am plagued, tormented, by insecurities. We all are.
It's a product of being me, seriously. I was bullied a lot when I was little. I never felt like I was good enough compared to all the rich white girls destined for poshy private schools, I could never compete with them for any boys I liked. I was short, and Asian, bookish but very loud at the same time. I think boys back then were a mixture of intimidated and disgusted by me; they looked up to me and pushed me down all at once, and it was pretty damn confusing. I never felt pretty, growing up. And then I went on a downward spiral: I got chicken pox for the first time at the ripe old age of eleven, and I still have loads of scars,and then hormones kicked in and I had horrible acne, and stretch marks, and then on top of that I started piling on weight...
I knew I was smart. I knew I was destined to be a scholarship girl, or else just one of the many Asians in one of the many overcrowded public schools. It seemed to me to be a pretty bleak future, especially when hormones kicked in. I never wanted attention so badly; I wanted to be admired, adored, I wanted to be able to pick and choose like all the other girls. It was shallow, I know. But I was so very young, and so very insecure and unsure of myself.
I've always liked to think of myself as substance over style, but to be perfectly honest, I don't know many people who are with me on this. And I'm not the kind of person who could say, in a blase way, that they would be attracted to a troll if he had a nice heart; because I wouldn't be, I know myself too well. I hope this post doesn't sound ridiculously petty, or that it comes across that my mental state is entirely based on how people perceive me, but I've always been an aesthetic, sensory kind of person, and I'm not afraid of physical attraction even if everyone else seems to be. This sounds ridiculous now that I think about it, but I remember, being thirteen, being let down by a friend; a boy I loved beyond reason. I let him get away with anything, I let pretty much anything slide, because I thought I wasn't good enough. And my looks...was a large part of that.
Not many people have said to my face that I am pretty - I'm not that cocky! (or that popular...but that's another story) But when they do, I feel like they're being mean. Insincere. Don't say it if you don't mean it, you know? It never occurred to me that anyone could mean it, not after all the horrible things so many people have said to me. I never for a second believed it. Even now, I don't really know if anyone thinks of me as pretty. It is much easier for me to think that people find me, I don't know, nice. Funny. Smart. Engaging. I could live without beauty if people thought all of that about me.
This year has been weird. I'm still trying to kid myself into believing that I am 'happily' single, when I'm not; it's that last, unticked box on my wishlist that has never ceased to cause me pain. But I've changed, physically, at least - I'm not an awkward little girl anymore, or a dumpy depressed pre-teen. It is bewildering to be considered attractive by people you've always thought of as being inhumanly beautiful; disorienting, confusing, at times heartbreaking but, dare I say it? Supremely flattering. For the first time I have some kind of solid proof that I can have an effect on people without brandishing a report card. And...I'm starting to believe it. A little. For the first time I can look at myself in the mirror and say 'You know what? You look okay.'
And that's one of the many things that's made me okay with it all. For a long time I felt like it was never coming; that I would never get my teenage dream unless I really scraped the bottom of the barrel. Which is a pretty silly thought, considering that I am sixteen, after all, and I'm not deformed and I do know how to dress to impress and there is, I hope, so much more to me than the transitory posession of physical beauty, but when I had depression I would dwell on it endlessly. I was losing self-respect, fast. But now...I'll get there.
If you've told me that I'm beautiful, I didn't believe you.
I'm sorry, but I can't.
Most people don't know this, but when I'm not around people I'm very quiet. I keep to myself, in my own world. And I am plagued, tormented, by insecurities. We all are.
It's a product of being me, seriously. I was bullied a lot when I was little. I never felt like I was good enough compared to all the rich white girls destined for poshy private schools, I could never compete with them for any boys I liked. I was short, and Asian, bookish but very loud at the same time. I think boys back then were a mixture of intimidated and disgusted by me; they looked up to me and pushed me down all at once, and it was pretty damn confusing. I never felt pretty, growing up. And then I went on a downward spiral: I got chicken pox for the first time at the ripe old age of eleven, and I still have loads of scars,and then hormones kicked in and I had horrible acne, and stretch marks, and then on top of that I started piling on weight...
I knew I was smart. I knew I was destined to be a scholarship girl, or else just one of the many Asians in one of the many overcrowded public schools. It seemed to me to be a pretty bleak future, especially when hormones kicked in. I never wanted attention so badly; I wanted to be admired, adored, I wanted to be able to pick and choose like all the other girls. It was shallow, I know. But I was so very young, and so very insecure and unsure of myself.
I've always liked to think of myself as substance over style, but to be perfectly honest, I don't know many people who are with me on this. And I'm not the kind of person who could say, in a blase way, that they would be attracted to a troll if he had a nice heart; because I wouldn't be, I know myself too well. I hope this post doesn't sound ridiculously petty, or that it comes across that my mental state is entirely based on how people perceive me, but I've always been an aesthetic, sensory kind of person, and I'm not afraid of physical attraction even if everyone else seems to be. This sounds ridiculous now that I think about it, but I remember, being thirteen, being let down by a friend; a boy I loved beyond reason. I let him get away with anything, I let pretty much anything slide, because I thought I wasn't good enough. And my looks...was a large part of that.
Not many people have said to my face that I am pretty - I'm not that cocky! (or that popular...but that's another story) But when they do, I feel like they're being mean. Insincere. Don't say it if you don't mean it, you know? It never occurred to me that anyone could mean it, not after all the horrible things so many people have said to me. I never for a second believed it. Even now, I don't really know if anyone thinks of me as pretty. It is much easier for me to think that people find me, I don't know, nice. Funny. Smart. Engaging. I could live without beauty if people thought all of that about me.
This year has been weird. I'm still trying to kid myself into believing that I am 'happily' single, when I'm not; it's that last, unticked box on my wishlist that has never ceased to cause me pain. But I've changed, physically, at least - I'm not an awkward little girl anymore, or a dumpy depressed pre-teen. It is bewildering to be considered attractive by people you've always thought of as being inhumanly beautiful; disorienting, confusing, at times heartbreaking but, dare I say it? Supremely flattering. For the first time I have some kind of solid proof that I can have an effect on people without brandishing a report card. And...I'm starting to believe it. A little. For the first time I can look at myself in the mirror and say 'You know what? You look okay.'
And that's one of the many things that's made me okay with it all. For a long time I felt like it was never coming; that I would never get my teenage dream unless I really scraped the bottom of the barrel. Which is a pretty silly thought, considering that I am sixteen, after all, and I'm not deformed and I do know how to dress to impress and there is, I hope, so much more to me than the transitory posession of physical beauty, but when I had depression I would dwell on it endlessly. I was losing self-respect, fast. But now...I'll get there.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
A Thousand Thousand Fearless Things #50
Now Playing: Good Intent by Kimbra (step into the dwelling of the liger's mouth, peer into the panic for a kick and swell)
#422: Today was the day my hair decided to throw a tantrum and not give a damn about my self esteem. I know I should have washed it yesterday but hair, like boys, horses and heels, need taming a little, a bit of breaking in.
#423: This morning I took one look at my bottle of foundation and just went 'Meh. Nah. Sorry.'
#424: Sugar rush!
#425: There's something very endearing about the way you brush against my shoulder with all the grace of an ox. Sends me off balance in more ways than one.
#426: Could I just be 'the girl who got the English award' and not 'the Asian who got the English award'? Please?
#427: You can see me, but you cannot touch me. I have everything you tried to take from me.
#428: It is so very nice to have a little kindness after an eternity of being pushed around
#429: I took one look at my red singlet in the laundry hamper and burst out laughing. That shirt, I swear, is magic...
#430: 'Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just...happy to see me?' (Mae West. Now that is a real woman.)
#422: Today was the day my hair decided to throw a tantrum and not give a damn about my self esteem. I know I should have washed it yesterday but hair, like boys, horses and heels, need taming a little, a bit of breaking in.
#423: This morning I took one look at my bottle of foundation and just went 'Meh. Nah. Sorry.'
#424: Sugar rush!
#425: There's something very endearing about the way you brush against my shoulder with all the grace of an ox. Sends me off balance in more ways than one.
#426: Could I just be 'the girl who got the English award' and not 'the Asian who got the English award'? Please?
#427: You can see me, but you cannot touch me. I have everything you tried to take from me.
#428: It is so very nice to have a little kindness after an eternity of being pushed around
#429: I took one look at my red singlet in the laundry hamper and burst out laughing. That shirt, I swear, is magic...
#430: 'Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just...happy to see me?' (Mae West. Now that is a real woman.)
emotional attachment. is good for you. trust me.
Now Playing: Close Every Door by Ryan Bunney (click here)
It's weird how modern society is terrified of emotional attachment. I guess it goes along with the cartharsis and apathy and all round anaesthetic effect of modern society these days, but it's still very sad, and I think it reflects in the tenuous and fragile nature of friendships these days, as well as high divorce rates and other domestic issues. We keep people at arms length, we don't let them in, we're so afraid to fall that we never move mountains with someone special.
Humans...are social animals. It is the core of human psychology; introvert or extrovert, a loner or everyone's best friend, we rely so heavily on others just to get through the day. Humans are entirely dependent on their families for years and years and years; why do you think we are the only animals to do that? I don't know of any human baby who's able to go of on their own at the ripe old age of eighteen months. We have evolved to become dependent.
Which might sound funny, coming from the girl who has openly confessed to growing up, essentially, alone; working alone, playing alone, spending a lot of time in my own company. But I felt like I was more or less forced to do that; I couldn't get along with other people no matter how hard I tried, and I couldn't work with people who wouldn't or couldn't think along the same wavelengths as I do. I couldn't form the kind of friendships, the kind of relationships, that I wanted, and every day I craved it more than any drug addict could possibly crave anything.
I don't do things halfway. I hate a lot of people. I hate them so much that I burst into tears at the thought of them; I can taste the rage, bitter at the back of my tongue. Conversely, I love a lot of people, too. There are some people who mean the world to me, people I would do anything for. And, for the most part, both have been rather one sided. Nobody really...feels the way I feel. Passion. Emotion. Intensity. It's all rather alien to the high school chums and bored suburbia inmates I live with.
Which is rather strange, considering that most pop culture idols manipulate this; they show the emotion that we refuse to let ourselves even dream of. Think about it! Katy Perry, Taylor Swift...you don't think of them this way, because they are buying in to the fickle whims of the masses. But they do that by channelling emotion. Trust me.
Until quite recently I'd never met someone as interested in people as I am. I've become rather...paranoid. I'm always afraid of pushing things too far. I've never understood words like 'too much' or 'enough'. How can you have too much of a good thing?
People completely unaffected by the hypocrisies of morality and religion, like me, live for the sensory pleasures; the aesthetics of things. Which is not to say I won't look twice in anyone's direction if they aren't topless and showing of a six pack, because that's not what I mean by aesthetic or sensory. It's hard to explain without sounding incredibly corny...but I don't know. The indulgence. The experience, the sheer luxury and selfishness of it, getting lost in a touch, or a taste, or just a particularly heady emotion. It's why I love food, and clothes, and boys. There's nothing shallow about it at all; in fact, the people who can find genuine pleasure in intimacy, or even something substantially less dramatic like immersing yourself in a really good book, are the only people who truly live. Living in the moment. All I have is now.
It is incredibly vulnerable, to open yourself up to this kind of sensory overload. Bad things happen, when you're lost in the moment; and believe me, I know. But I am the kind of person who can't help themselves; I dive in without thinking too much about consequences. Which is, you know, good and bad...but I'm never really content with just 'okay'...
I've become rather altruistic. I extract so much joy out of a smile, a little sigh of contentment, doing people favours. Not with everyone, I'm still rather self-centered, but there are a few...I'd smile at them even if I were burning on a pyre. I guess I've gotten used to giving and receiving nothing in return, even if the tables have turned on that somewhat.
So go on. Be brave. I challenge you. Don't be afraid to let someone in; it's scary and dangerous and reckless, but it's the only way you can really be close to someone; as a friend, or otherwise. Be fearless.
It's weird how modern society is terrified of emotional attachment. I guess it goes along with the cartharsis and apathy and all round anaesthetic effect of modern society these days, but it's still very sad, and I think it reflects in the tenuous and fragile nature of friendships these days, as well as high divorce rates and other domestic issues. We keep people at arms length, we don't let them in, we're so afraid to fall that we never move mountains with someone special.
Humans...are social animals. It is the core of human psychology; introvert or extrovert, a loner or everyone's best friend, we rely so heavily on others just to get through the day. Humans are entirely dependent on their families for years and years and years; why do you think we are the only animals to do that? I don't know of any human baby who's able to go of on their own at the ripe old age of eighteen months. We have evolved to become dependent.
Which might sound funny, coming from the girl who has openly confessed to growing up, essentially, alone; working alone, playing alone, spending a lot of time in my own company. But I felt like I was more or less forced to do that; I couldn't get along with other people no matter how hard I tried, and I couldn't work with people who wouldn't or couldn't think along the same wavelengths as I do. I couldn't form the kind of friendships, the kind of relationships, that I wanted, and every day I craved it more than any drug addict could possibly crave anything.
I don't do things halfway. I hate a lot of people. I hate them so much that I burst into tears at the thought of them; I can taste the rage, bitter at the back of my tongue. Conversely, I love a lot of people, too. There are some people who mean the world to me, people I would do anything for. And, for the most part, both have been rather one sided. Nobody really...feels the way I feel. Passion. Emotion. Intensity. It's all rather alien to the high school chums and bored suburbia inmates I live with.
Which is rather strange, considering that most pop culture idols manipulate this; they show the emotion that we refuse to let ourselves even dream of. Think about it! Katy Perry, Taylor Swift...you don't think of them this way, because they are buying in to the fickle whims of the masses. But they do that by channelling emotion. Trust me.
Until quite recently I'd never met someone as interested in people as I am. I've become rather...paranoid. I'm always afraid of pushing things too far. I've never understood words like 'too much' or 'enough'. How can you have too much of a good thing?
People completely unaffected by the hypocrisies of morality and religion, like me, live for the sensory pleasures; the aesthetics of things. Which is not to say I won't look twice in anyone's direction if they aren't topless and showing of a six pack, because that's not what I mean by aesthetic or sensory. It's hard to explain without sounding incredibly corny...but I don't know. The indulgence. The experience, the sheer luxury and selfishness of it, getting lost in a touch, or a taste, or just a particularly heady emotion. It's why I love food, and clothes, and boys. There's nothing shallow about it at all; in fact, the people who can find genuine pleasure in intimacy, or even something substantially less dramatic like immersing yourself in a really good book, are the only people who truly live. Living in the moment. All I have is now.
It is incredibly vulnerable, to open yourself up to this kind of sensory overload. Bad things happen, when you're lost in the moment; and believe me, I know. But I am the kind of person who can't help themselves; I dive in without thinking too much about consequences. Which is, you know, good and bad...but I'm never really content with just 'okay'...
I've become rather altruistic. I extract so much joy out of a smile, a little sigh of contentment, doing people favours. Not with everyone, I'm still rather self-centered, but there are a few...I'd smile at them even if I were burning on a pyre. I guess I've gotten used to giving and receiving nothing in return, even if the tables have turned on that somewhat.
So go on. Be brave. I challenge you. Don't be afraid to let someone in; it's scary and dangerous and reckless, but it's the only way you can really be close to someone; as a friend, or otherwise. Be fearless.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
A Thousand Thousand Fearless Things #49
Now Playing: A Thousand Years by Christina Perri (I have died every day waiting for you, darling don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years, I'll love you for a thousand more)
#411: I wonder what my current obsession with solitaire says about my current frame of mind? (I've never had much patience with real cards, but I do like klondike)
#412: Cheeky ;P
#413: Something I legitimately had to write in my ancient history notes: Revolt of Lesbos, NOT Lesbian Revolt
#414: If the joll troll does that again I might actually sink into a permanent state of cartharsis.
#415: I'm an aesthetic kind of person; I like things, and people, who appeal to the senses. Without a handful of people school would just be like a massive dose of anaesthetic and, trust me, I should know.
#416: Last day of laser tag :(
#417: My revenge is complete. So there, an Asian can come top in English.
#418: Despite not having any brothers I have mastered the art of calmly making my way home, making a beeline for the fridge and stuffing my face with anything remotely edible. I haz skills.
#419: It's not how big they are, darling, it's what you do with them. ;P
#420: Return of the Belephant
#421: Skye has taken hostage a frisbee from Target. Oh, the irony of a dog dragging around a target...
#411: I wonder what my current obsession with solitaire says about my current frame of mind? (I've never had much patience with real cards, but I do like klondike)
#412: Cheeky ;P
#413: Something I legitimately had to write in my ancient history notes: Revolt of Lesbos, NOT Lesbian Revolt
#414: If the joll troll does that again I might actually sink into a permanent state of cartharsis.
#415: I'm an aesthetic kind of person; I like things, and people, who appeal to the senses. Without a handful of people school would just be like a massive dose of anaesthetic and, trust me, I should know.
#416: Last day of laser tag :(
#417: My revenge is complete. So there, an Asian can come top in English.
#418: Despite not having any brothers I have mastered the art of calmly making my way home, making a beeline for the fridge and stuffing my face with anything remotely edible. I haz skills.
#419: It's not how big they are, darling, it's what you do with them. ;P
#420: Return of the Belephant
#421: Skye has taken hostage a frisbee from Target. Oh, the irony of a dog dragging around a target...
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Spilt Milk Tears
Now Playing: Hallelujah by Kate Voegele (andeven though it all went wrong I'll stand before the Lord of Song with nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah)
One of my worst habits is that I swallow a lot of my pride, a lot. Which might seem like a good thing, but it means that I often let things that hurt me slide, and let people get away with intentionally or unintentionally hurting me. I pretend that I'm okay when I'm not, I forgive and forget when I'm still reeling, I fake a smile even when I'm silently seething.
To cut a very long story short, I once had a friend who constantly told me off for making a fuss over nothing. That I was becoming a whiney, naggy, oversensitive...maybe it's politest not to continue on that vein. I used to feel horribly guilty about getting upset, and wheedling apologies out of people; I was more worried about the inconvenience it was causing them than the pain it was causing me. In retrospect, that was just his way of dodging confrontations; whether or not he believed he did something wrong, he didn't want to talk about it and was just very defensive, and preferred to blame it on me.
Although, in fairness, we were very young. He probably thought that I was trying to play a blame game, or was just being attention-seeking and making a fuss over nothing, when all I needed was to get over a little hurt. I used to throw massive tantrums, I was big into spilt milk tears: I hadn't quite mastered the art of more subtle things like 'cold shoulder' or 'bitchy rhetoric'. I was also one of those girls who expected guys to, um, read minds - the whole 'well if you don't know then I'm not going to tell you'. Which is probably not fair, but a steady diet of rom coms and chick lit had kind of convinced me that if a guy doesn't know that he's screwed up, then he doesn't care that he's screwed up. What can I say? I'd like to think that I've grown up a lot between thirteen and sixteen, and my friends are now all seventeen and are more grown up, too. So we all like to think, anyway.
I know I am very, very sensitive. I know I get really upset over things that wouldn't really affect people that much; but nonetheless, it's not my fault. I can't control that I get hurt over the things I get hurt over. I don't even blame people for some accidentally callous or tactless or insensitive thing; I'm normally pretty good at judging intent, it's the lit student in me. And sometimes it's not a particular incident per se; sometimes I'm already in a dodgy mood and something will rub me the wrong way and tip me over the edge. What can I say? I'm crazy, I know I am. But I'm not afraid to bring things up, talk things over, and be genuinely cool with everything before all the forgive and forget jazz. Anyone who can't put up with that can go screw themselves. Seriously. I am so glad I have friends who put up with my weirdness, I don't need some immature freak who can't eat humble pie occasionally.
Have I mentioned how scary it is for me to do all of this? Friends are so few and far between sometimes I feel like I should just let things go all in the name of friendship. But I can't. I have to love myself enough to say that I can't settle for anything less than love from the people that I love dearly. It's part of being...fearless...
One of my worst habits is that I swallow a lot of my pride, a lot. Which might seem like a good thing, but it means that I often let things that hurt me slide, and let people get away with intentionally or unintentionally hurting me. I pretend that I'm okay when I'm not, I forgive and forget when I'm still reeling, I fake a smile even when I'm silently seething.
To cut a very long story short, I once had a friend who constantly told me off for making a fuss over nothing. That I was becoming a whiney, naggy, oversensitive...maybe it's politest not to continue on that vein. I used to feel horribly guilty about getting upset, and wheedling apologies out of people; I was more worried about the inconvenience it was causing them than the pain it was causing me. In retrospect, that was just his way of dodging confrontations; whether or not he believed he did something wrong, he didn't want to talk about it and was just very defensive, and preferred to blame it on me.
Although, in fairness, we were very young. He probably thought that I was trying to play a blame game, or was just being attention-seeking and making a fuss over nothing, when all I needed was to get over a little hurt. I used to throw massive tantrums, I was big into spilt milk tears: I hadn't quite mastered the art of more subtle things like 'cold shoulder' or 'bitchy rhetoric'. I was also one of those girls who expected guys to, um, read minds - the whole 'well if you don't know then I'm not going to tell you'. Which is probably not fair, but a steady diet of rom coms and chick lit had kind of convinced me that if a guy doesn't know that he's screwed up, then he doesn't care that he's screwed up. What can I say? I'd like to think that I've grown up a lot between thirteen and sixteen, and my friends are now all seventeen and are more grown up, too. So we all like to think, anyway.
I know I am very, very sensitive. I know I get really upset over things that wouldn't really affect people that much; but nonetheless, it's not my fault. I can't control that I get hurt over the things I get hurt over. I don't even blame people for some accidentally callous or tactless or insensitive thing; I'm normally pretty good at judging intent, it's the lit student in me. And sometimes it's not a particular incident per se; sometimes I'm already in a dodgy mood and something will rub me the wrong way and tip me over the edge. What can I say? I'm crazy, I know I am. But I'm not afraid to bring things up, talk things over, and be genuinely cool with everything before all the forgive and forget jazz. Anyone who can't put up with that can go screw themselves. Seriously. I am so glad I have friends who put up with my weirdness, I don't need some immature freak who can't eat humble pie occasionally.
Have I mentioned how scary it is for me to do all of this? Friends are so few and far between sometimes I feel like I should just let things go all in the name of friendship. But I can't. I have to love myself enough to say that I can't settle for anything less than love from the people that I love dearly. It's part of being...fearless...
A Thousand Thousand Fearless Things #48
Now Playing: Fix You by Coldplay (when you love someone and it goes to waste...when you're too in love to let go)
#401: You were a douche today. Seriously.
#402: If there was ever anything to get me to wake up...that would be it.
#403: Why are university campuses so damn big?
#404: Whole day of English lectures. Exhausting.
#405: Bombshells! Three! In one day! Too much to handle!
#406: It's a very, very small world.
#407: Being a guilty pleasure is not as fun as you might think.
#408: How on earth do you expect me to like you when you never let me have fun?
#409: It's fascinating, the impact people can have on one's behaviour. With some, you're an angel. With others, you're scum, even to the people you're usually angelic towards
#410: The most incredible things happen when you least expect it.
#401: You were a douche today. Seriously.
#402: If there was ever anything to get me to wake up...that would be it.
#403: Why are university campuses so damn big?
#404: Whole day of English lectures. Exhausting.
#405: Bombshells! Three! In one day! Too much to handle!
#406: It's a very, very small world.
#407: Being a guilty pleasure is not as fun as you might think.
#408: How on earth do you expect me to like you when you never let me have fun?
#409: It's fascinating, the impact people can have on one's behaviour. With some, you're an angel. With others, you're scum, even to the people you're usually angelic towards
#410: The most incredible things happen when you least expect it.
Monday, June 25, 2012
A Thousand Thousand Fearless Things #47
Now Playing: Tied Together With a Smile by Taylor Swift (and no one knows that you cry, but you don't tell anyone that you might not meet the golden one)
#389: I don't regret making a good friend. I don't even regret pushing things too far. At least nobody can say that I didn't do my best, I didn't try my hardest.
#390: I might not have deserved it, but I was totally asking for it.
#391: You can fix anything with pink lipstick and a big floppy hairbow.
#392: At least that's the only time I'll ever get whacked by maths spec ;P
#393: I feel like one of the big kids now. I've learned a lot. I think I know what I'm doing.
#394: Please don't look me in the eye and call me cute. Please. It's really really weird when you say it. And I'm not sorry that I wouldn't mind some other people saying it, because that's just how it is and it would be cruel to you to pretend otherwise.
#395: Dear breakout. This is really not fair. You can't even blame hormones.
#396: Freezing cold fingers inhibiting my normal multitasking ninja skills...
#397: Yes, I know I have an embarassing email. Yes, I know I probably should change it.
#398: Black tea is an acquired taste, and acquired only by the unavailability of milk safe for human consumption.
#399: It wouldn't be fair on you to let on...
#400: I take my hat off to you because I understand why you won't do the same. We all think you're so brave, and you're still so beautiful.
#389: I don't regret making a good friend. I don't even regret pushing things too far. At least nobody can say that I didn't do my best, I didn't try my hardest.
#390: I might not have deserved it, but I was totally asking for it.
#391: You can fix anything with pink lipstick and a big floppy hairbow.
#392: At least that's the only time I'll ever get whacked by maths spec ;P
#393: I feel like one of the big kids now. I've learned a lot. I think I know what I'm doing.
#394: Please don't look me in the eye and call me cute. Please. It's really really weird when you say it. And I'm not sorry that I wouldn't mind some other people saying it, because that's just how it is and it would be cruel to you to pretend otherwise.
#395: Dear breakout. This is really not fair. You can't even blame hormones.
#396: Freezing cold fingers inhibiting my normal multitasking ninja skills...
#397: Yes, I know I have an embarassing email. Yes, I know I probably should change it.
#398: Black tea is an acquired taste, and acquired only by the unavailability of milk safe for human consumption.
#399: It wouldn't be fair on you to let on...
#400: I take my hat off to you because I understand why you won't do the same. We all think you're so brave, and you're still so beautiful.
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