For some time, I felt like a friend who came into the picture, we apparently had feelings for each other, well I definitely did, but he regardless did not want to commit... well I felt like he broke the last strand of me... but looking back now, all I felt then was residual anger from this previous relationship. I had known what I had with this guy was temporary and it was just anger left over that poured into it, anger that I had not dealt with because I’d jumped into this distraction so soon. My friends don’t understand why I forgave this guy, but it is only because he is, for all sakes and purposes irrelevant. I just sort of expected him to replace this epic relationship I’d had with this other guy and felt something that wasn’t even real so I have no anger here.
Only in the man that broke my heart a year ago. And only because this last relationship made me realise that I would never be able to love anyone like that again... atleast not for a very very long time. And that it what I got from my relationship with him, while he was busy healing from his scars... I was busy realising I was scarred almost beyond repair. I whine I whine I whine some more I know... but come on, you gotta appreciate here the sadistic irony that is my life.
Damn it feels good to let that all loose here! I've forgotten how therauputic this thing is..
I've always been obsessed with control. Controlling my life the best I can, controlling my reactions, controlling the outcomes... and of course, I have long since discovered that control itself is simply a myth.
We cannot control anything that happens in life. It seems easy to say, and I say it, just as many have told me the very same - but that does not mean a teensy weensy part of me doesn't look for the exception, doesn't try to defy the theorem.
Today, or the date itself, is of absolutely no significance to me. Nevertheless, today sitting by my pool with a pack of smokes and a couple of cokes I finally sat up straight, took a deep breath and metaphorically 'threw my hands into the air".
I tried self destruction, and that was no way to live. I tried locking myself into the little jail we call social acceptability and found that wasn't exactly control either. True peace is only achievable by recognizing that we have no control. Almost every post on this blog over the years has been about seeking some sort of control and balance in life.
But life is not meant to be balanced. It is not meant to be good or bad, life is only meant to be lived. And to live, we need to let go. I need to let go of the anger I feel for myself, for the disappointments I've caused, the unfairness and heartache I've experienced. I need to let go of the deep pain I've been caused and I've suffered throughout my life. I need to let go of the memories I hold dear as well and the people and things that I love, and just open my arms to the great 'whatever and beyond' :P.
I wish I could say, letting go meant that a great wave of happiness burst through me, or that I felt a great sense of relief as though a great burden had been lifted off me. I wish I could say I felt like I had discovered a great 'secret' or answer but the truth is, it was a merely fleeting thought that I somehow brought to surface. It wasn't like click click, enter let go, transfer successful.
It seems like the quiet beginning of something barely noticeable to anyone else. I want to celebrate and live my life, but it will be of no real significance to anyone but myself. And that's okay, because I'm letting go of everything else.
Hey, it looks like I'm back. In full force ranting. Well, maybe not, but reflecting at least.... Something eh?
I dream too much. I dream like, a lot. The thing about dreams though, is that they are dreams for a reason. The original human lie. Hope, wishes, fairness, karma. Fuck that. Life is a series of random shit happening for no apparent reason and I just happen to be one of the unfortunate fools who get the bitter end of the deal, when it comes to what I want.
But I'm just one like the other billion nothing special. My problems aren't unique or new or particularly bad. They are just problems... like everyone's got problems. Shit happens.
I know most of you are either ranting or suppressing a massive loud 'DUH!' but hey, it's good to say it out loud. Remind yourself you are insignificant in the grand schemes of the universe. Why? Because it reminds you that if you choose to jump off a cliff then you are nothing but a statistic. You can choose to live a mundane life, you're nothing but a statistic. You can choose to be a success and ironically you're still stats, albeit associated with numbers that can be interpreted in a more positive manner :P.
Paint a gloomier picture eh? It's not all bad, it just serves to prove that since whether you succeed or fail it doesn't really matter and time erases any trace of that anyway, you might as well live to be happy. Live for the little things that make you smile, make your heart race, make your insides melt, make you laugh like a 5 year old...
Study, if it makes you happy. Love, if it makes you happy. Leave home, if that will make you happy. Have kids, if you think it'll make you happy, although here, might be wise to wonder if you could make them happy. Travel, if it makes you happy. Heck, get stoned if thats they only way you're happpy, although if thats the case, I feel a little sorry for you. What's more important is what not to do anyway. Case in point, don't - spend your time making someone happy when its making you miserable most of the time. Don't be nice if it makes you wanna shoot yourself. Sometimes, being an ass is in order. Simply 'surviving' through life is a truly pathetic way to live. (This sentence hopefully evokes some sense into a adorable but sometimes idiotic friend of mine ;))
I'm gonna try living with this somewhat selfish mantra. I've been twiddling with the idea for a while, but it was my bestie who pretty much flicked on the light. He's right. I might be trying, but certainly haven't been investing in the right stuff. I have serious weaknesses, and I know them and while indulging them may be easier, the truth is that it's not worth it, and it will never truly make me happy. And it's time I stopped being a wuss and faced up to that.
Even fun has an expiry date. When its time to move on, its time to move on.
I know why I haven't really been blogging. Lots of people who matter to me know that this is my blog now... they can access my feelings and thoughts... I suppose in 2005, when I started blogging, and when I was much younger and such – well then, it didn't seem like too much of a big deal. My blog served as my space to justify my actions, explain myself... try to discover more, but exploring depths...
I'm older, not that much wiser, but life has changed nevertheless. Now I write and I feel myself withdrawing from my own writing... I don't want to express my innermost thoughts... so I scrape at the surfaces, with silly thoughts and problems... I feel no need to justify or express myself... my thoughts are more private, and my hopes and dreams... feels like I'm almost jinxing them if I talk about them here...
To me my blog has always been a very personal thing, close to my heart ...somehow it's become something I just maintain for the sake of it... a contradiction of sorts.
Maybe it's high time I stopped blogging. I don't know. I'm seriously thinking about it. I'm not the type of person who can simply write about an Iphone or storybook... I like to talk about thoughts and experiences and if I no longer feel comfortable doing that, perhaps my blog has outlived its usefulness... I'm going to try just sticking to stories... or something...
First off, I apologise to no one and every one in general on the succession of sappy, cheesy, love sick blogs I've been posting lately.. and well... mostly..
I'm sorry, but I got to write what's been buzzing in my head right?
Anyway, I got to thinking, after an intense convo with one of my most beloved girlfriends... (yeah, that does serve as a warning about the content to follow.. press the X button while you can:P)
I got to thinking... about what a sucker I am for epic love stories... and I've said this before.. and I don't mean like a pathetic mills and boons novel..
(How does one call that garbage of literature a novel I don't know, it breaks my heart every single time)
Not like a tween flick (think Twilight : Yeah, NOT that)... Or any sappy, cheesy nonsense movie on sale... in theatres...
But classic, epic love stories, especially those that are true and told by one or two of the main protagonists... I'm a complete sucker for those...
I beg happy couples for their stories: how did they meet, how did they fall in love, what happened next...
Anyway, mid convo discussing an old story, you know what strikes me?
That I've never been part of one, not even a high school one....
It's like everyone I know (practically) has had that epic off and on romance where even afterwards people refer to them as 'Oh you mean A's B?' Or like 'Sure I know him, you mean B's A, right?'
Get me? On and off, with a shitload of drama and serious FEELINGS and major heartbreak.... passionate... and kinda crazy...
Even if they eventually end up marrying someone else... everyone has one of these stories... where there is a tragic (or not) huge romance...
And it occurs to me... I'm THAT girl... I'm the one everyone has before or after they meet this person... the transition girl...
How sad is that yea? Ironic in a sort of awful way too... I have enough and more tiny tragedies.... but romance? Not so much.
But hey, I guess at some level I ask for it... I have this thing for damaged goods :P I've been told my strength in writing lies in stories that follow this vein too...
There is no real point to this post... just a little obsession I'm having... crazy couples, and crazy stories, crazy feelings and awesome memories... they say you need to really live life to write about it... ;)
I guess I've sort of been trying that out... I guess we'll see where it ends... If I don't fall back into the pressures of a normal life;)
I'm a bitch, I know .
I can't help it.
I know it was atleast 90% my own doing and my choice and all that, and I do realise we had some very real issues that were never going away and that in the long run it was the right thing to do.
I know that.
I don't regret it, I really don't and I would do it again.
I really hate that it took him less than three months to forget about around 2 years of memories.
I hate that it was so easy to move on.
I hate that he does it so well.
More than that, I hate that he's happy.
Nah, I want him to be happy. Really I do. I just… wish it wasn't so fast and so simple for him.
Or I wish it was easier and simpler for me.
Meanwhile I'm stuck here, somewhere between the end, and stepping forward to a beginning.
I'm stuck in a rut… and I really wish I weren't.
Add to the beginning: I'm pathetic, I know.
*crumples up imaginary piece of paper with this written and chucks it into the dustbin*
Nah, life's not all bad. In fact its better than its been in weeks. I'm content, I have time for family which is great, I have the best friends in the world and I have mended ties with a lot of them.
I'm taking a holiday this week to a place I haven't been to yet, and it's by myself and I'm meeting some friends I adore.
So yeah. All's well… I just have my moments, you know? When just for a second, you stumble on to the facebook page that you dread. And for a second .. or as long as it took to write this piece of garbage…
I indulge in feeling a little sorry for myself. And wishing life was just lacking in emotions in general.
It's also a sorry attempt to return to blogging A-gain! :P But anyway.. for those of you who haven't heard about it yet, I thought Clash of Titans wasn't great but far more entertaining than Alice In Wonderland which somehow saw the sorrier points of Johnny Depp and Tim Burton's careers… and Date Night is the funniest movie thus far this year. And that's my two cents.
If you don't, then feel free to crawl back under whichever rock that you obviously didn't really mean to navigate away from.
Anyway, I was having a conversation with some friends recently and the topic somehow wavered to the shock and horror that someone they knew had gotten married to some one 50 years older, as a second wife. And, was playing stepmother to people her own age.
At least that's what they expected from me. Probably because I often have strong opinions on people's rights and certain aspects of morality and what not.
Unfortunately for them, I sat there, rather indifferent to their story, waiting for the punchline. Apparently that WAS the punchline.
But after you grow up in Male' , that isn't even a remotely interesting story at all.
I followed their brief expectant silence with 'So?' to only be bombarded with accusations of agreeing with that lifestyle and women's rights and was even accused of being a chauvinist. I mean, really? *cocks an eyebrow*
During this rather boring tirade, I reflected on how much a 'Maldivian' this reaction made me. I mean, I have a million and a half of those stories in my own family... why would this be a big deal to me? And even more than that, I can imagine how much an event could take place, how it needn't necessarily be a gold digger story, to the event that it would be... and how that would affect the family. It really isn't a point of judgment for me any more.
Why is polygamy such a big No No for westerners.. its the equivalent of a Muslim unmarried couple living together (in terms of our world anyway) I mean... So? If they can be so very open minded about everything else, why won't they consider the possibility of that being a successful relationship?
DON'T MISUNDERSTAND ME... I am NOT an advocate for polygamy at all. That said, I CAN accept it as readily as I can accept people living together, having sex and partying hard... its a life choice, and it is not necessarily some sort of sick thing. How is it possible to accept the concept of a ménage à trois and condemn a polygamous marriage? Again, not that it is the same thing, but certainly it is strange, no? Neither is a typical, yet one is judged far more harshly.
Perhaps it all comes down to slamming everything even close to Saudi Arabian culture. In which case, I'd like to point out that that is not where this social construct originates from, nor is it the only society in which it could be found. To suggest a more recent example, the common situation in Victorian England where there would be the wife, the husband and the mistress in full awareness of each other. It is more or less the same thing, as the husband usually had full lives with each other, often procreating with the mistress as well. And you'd still see this happening today, isn't it?
Anyway, I'm going into far more detail than I intended. Basically just another western hypocrisy.
All I have to say to my friends is.. *yawn*... I've heard it all :P I'm a Maldivian, I DARE you to come up with a social construct I haven't seen. :p Other than, a normal functional family that is ;)