Tuesday, June 10, 2003
Random thoughts of the week.
Birthdays are special days, the one day of the year someone should be made to feel happy - not that they shouldn't be happy other days of the year. Much more so a now, strangely, -who would have thought it?- close friend of mine; who is in her own way extremely special. Gifts, the magic is in the giving, not the gift itself; the significances make for happy moments. For giver and receiver. So no effort was spared and it was enjoyable, fun, even. And no thanks were necessary. So why is it, when it comes around to my own birthday I feel that I don't need to be happy? Or rather, I don't need gifts to be happy, just a nice quiet drink or meal with someone; that is the true magic of a birthday. Something you can do everyday, except you really get to do it.
Self-centredness. Unappealing in other people, yet almost inevitable in oneself. One almost always thinks from within, with oneself the frame of reference. After thinking about someone else, I often loop back around to compare them with myself, and then realise i'm doing it and kick myself. look, i'm doing it again! I guess I have to give in to it - my world does revolve around me!
Laughter. Rare for me. I can make other people laugh, easily enough. And I can laugh along with them. I can pretend to make choking laugh-noises when the demand arises, having practised the art of almost-hypocrisy to a T during my last relationship. I can hear a joke and laugh politely, like everyone else. But true, side-splitting, heartfelt laughter often eludes me. Sitting down to dinner on said friend's quiet birthday dinner, above, and I was laughing politely as usual when she did something that somehow struck to the core, and suddenly, suprisingly, I was laughing for real. From my soul, clutching my sides. It's been so very long since that happened. Just for an instant, light and laughter.
Friendships, why to value them. Perhaps they give you moments to chill, introns of calm between the madness of the extrons of your life. Moments of rest from the intense thought-highways that permeate work and "play". Perhaps they give you a chance at true laughter once in a while. Perhaps companionship as well. To give you a chance to go out and do stuff you wouldn't on your own. But most importantly, methinks, to give you a chance to laugh, or at least shrug helplessly. and bitch, of course.
Forgetting the painful parts of my life. Self preservation demands it. Logic decrees it, that there is no way back to the past. So why still do I dwell? Why revisit a wooded-square, where a certain letter was written. Why walk down a river, where a certain person was cherished. Why preserve emails, why do websearches; why find yearbook entries through said searches, and read them? Why reminisce. And why feel immeasurably sad, when there is so much happiness to be had, in the present? Why, one moment, be able to feel like part of your soul has been irrevocably lost, fallen to some unknown depth, and the next, be laughing in unadulterated joy at a pseudo-angel?
How does one reconcile all these contradictions? I suppose, at the end of it all, I'm not supposed to.
Perhaps I'm supposed to wish for non-reconciliation, but hope for it anyway. In vain, perhaps, perhaps.
So, to stop myself sinking, I live in the present. I remember how often I used to laugh, almost every minute; but it doesn't matter now. Now, I laugh at Sister-act Alice, and cherish and protect our friendship.
And studiously avoid questioning my future.
Always forgive, never forget, and one day, perhaps, God willing, re-live.
Birthdays are special days, the one day of the year someone should be made to feel happy - not that they shouldn't be happy other days of the year. Much more so a now, strangely, -who would have thought it?- close friend of mine; who is in her own way extremely special. Gifts, the magic is in the giving, not the gift itself; the significances make for happy moments. For giver and receiver. So no effort was spared and it was enjoyable, fun, even. And no thanks were necessary. So why is it, when it comes around to my own birthday I feel that I don't need to be happy? Or rather, I don't need gifts to be happy, just a nice quiet drink or meal with someone; that is the true magic of a birthday. Something you can do everyday, except you really get to do it.
Self-centredness. Unappealing in other people, yet almost inevitable in oneself. One almost always thinks from within, with oneself the frame of reference. After thinking about someone else, I often loop back around to compare them with myself, and then realise i'm doing it and kick myself. look, i'm doing it again! I guess I have to give in to it - my world does revolve around me!
Laughter. Rare for me. I can make other people laugh, easily enough. And I can laugh along with them. I can pretend to make choking laugh-noises when the demand arises, having practised the art of almost-hypocrisy to a T during my last relationship. I can hear a joke and laugh politely, like everyone else. But true, side-splitting, heartfelt laughter often eludes me. Sitting down to dinner on said friend's quiet birthday dinner, above, and I was laughing politely as usual when she did something that somehow struck to the core, and suddenly, suprisingly, I was laughing for real. From my soul, clutching my sides. It's been so very long since that happened. Just for an instant, light and laughter.
Friendships, why to value them. Perhaps they give you moments to chill, introns of calm between the madness of the extrons of your life. Moments of rest from the intense thought-highways that permeate work and "play". Perhaps they give you a chance at true laughter once in a while. Perhaps companionship as well. To give you a chance to go out and do stuff you wouldn't on your own. But most importantly, methinks, to give you a chance to laugh, or at least shrug helplessly. and bitch, of course.
Forgetting the painful parts of my life. Self preservation demands it. Logic decrees it, that there is no way back to the past. So why still do I dwell? Why revisit a wooded-square, where a certain letter was written. Why walk down a river, where a certain person was cherished. Why preserve emails, why do websearches; why find yearbook entries through said searches, and read them? Why reminisce. And why feel immeasurably sad, when there is so much happiness to be had, in the present? Why, one moment, be able to feel like part of your soul has been irrevocably lost, fallen to some unknown depth, and the next, be laughing in unadulterated joy at a pseudo-angel?
How does one reconcile all these contradictions? I suppose, at the end of it all, I'm not supposed to.
Perhaps I'm supposed to wish for non-reconciliation, but hope for it anyway. In vain, perhaps, perhaps.
So, to stop myself sinking, I live in the present. I remember how often I used to laugh, almost every minute; but it doesn't matter now. Now, I laugh at Sister-act Alice, and cherish and protect our friendship.
And studiously avoid questioning my future.
Always forgive, never forget, and one day, perhaps, God willing, re-live.
