Okay, this is ridiculous.
I'm still in a thoughtful and revolutionary mood, so I was doing research about last post's issue when I ran across this site. I thought it was going to be a satyrical thing, kind of like The Onion, about extreme conservatorism. But no, the thing is for real. Here are some "highlights":
http://www.conservapedia.com/Contraceptives
http://www.conservapedia.com/Feminism
http://www.conservapedia.com/Harry_Potter
http://www.conservapedia.com/Homosexuality
http://www.conservapedia.com/Evolution
http://www.conservapedia.com/Abortion
http://www.conservapedia.com/Madonna_Ciccone (okay, I did laugh about this one).
Yes, Juno, we've both said this before, but hey... "I'm losing my faith in humanity".
*
Friday, April 30, 2010
Hell Yeah, We Can!
"I love it when you get all rebel-without-a-cause," 'Carrot' said to me after class today. Yes, I actually went, despite how beer-before-noon today felt like.
"Why?" my royally pissed-off frown automatically morphed into a sweet little smile just because I'm random like that.
"Because you're my let's-change-the-world buddy," she bumped her hip against mine and stuck her tongue out at me while stealing my lighter again.
Yes, at the moment I just laughed and popped the flavor switch on my cigarrette (did you know those existed? THEY DO!), but her comment just wouldn't leave me alone afterwards. We should all have a let's-change-the-world buddy, I concluded.
***
It all started today, when my favorite professor (yes, the feminist hippie one) gave a class on 'perversion' and the power of words. We were analyzing the Catholic Church's speech concerning all the pedophilia scandals when she showed an article of a Really Important Religious Figure basically blaming it on homosexuality. Needless to say, everyone was extremely surprised, and yes, in the negative sense. It was one of those intense moments in class when everyone starts letting out indignant comments/noises and the teacher has to ask everyone to shut up at least twice.
Anyway, she began telling us about an incident about an year ago in one of the Law classes and we immediately calmed down again. It was around time of the Pride Parade, which is a huuuge deal here in the city, and of course people were joking around about it. Sample conversation:
Guy 1: "Hey, man, did you buy your outfit yet? Hahahah."
Guy 2: "Yeah, dude, your dad came with me. I loved the panties he bought. Hahaha."
Right.
So the Law teacher came in and asked what everyone's fuss was about that day, and someone told him. He snickered and pushed his dark-rimmed glasses up his nose and let out with disgust, "If it was up to me, I'd line every single one of them up and execute them."
!!!
The class fell silent in utter disbelief until a girl politely asked, "But professor, don't you think your comment goes a little against what is stated the Constitution?"
"No," he frowned with extreme self-righteousness, "What those people do is wrong and I wouldn't think twice about shooting them all up."
"Well," the girl stood up, "In that case, you can start with shooting me."
Silence again.
And then a boy stood up and raised his chin defiantly, "And me."
And then another boy stood up, and then another girl, and then another and another, and soon enough the whole class was standing up. The professor didn't apologize or try to explain himself better (which would be extremely difficult, considering everything), but proceeded to insult and discriminate even more.
Long story short, the class immediately marched over to the Headmaster's office and the ignorant little fuck was fired.
***
"Well, we can change the world," I told 'Carrot', smiling at the goose-bumps the story still gave me, "We're going to. Trust me."
*
"Why?" my royally pissed-off frown automatically morphed into a sweet little smile just because I'm random like that.
"Because you're my let's-change-the-world buddy," she bumped her hip against mine and stuck her tongue out at me while stealing my lighter again.
Yes, at the moment I just laughed and popped the flavor switch on my cigarrette (did you know those existed? THEY DO!), but her comment just wouldn't leave me alone afterwards. We should all have a let's-change-the-world buddy, I concluded.
***
It all started today, when my favorite professor (yes, the feminist hippie one) gave a class on 'perversion' and the power of words. We were analyzing the Catholic Church's speech concerning all the pedophilia scandals when she showed an article of a Really Important Religious Figure basically blaming it on homosexuality. Needless to say, everyone was extremely surprised, and yes, in the negative sense. It was one of those intense moments in class when everyone starts letting out indignant comments/noises and the teacher has to ask everyone to shut up at least twice.
Anyway, she began telling us about an incident about an year ago in one of the Law classes and we immediately calmed down again. It was around time of the Pride Parade, which is a huuuge deal here in the city, and of course people were joking around about it. Sample conversation:
Guy 1: "Hey, man, did you buy your outfit yet? Hahahah."
Guy 2: "Yeah, dude, your dad came with me. I loved the panties he bought. Hahaha."
Right.
So the Law teacher came in and asked what everyone's fuss was about that day, and someone told him. He snickered and pushed his dark-rimmed glasses up his nose and let out with disgust, "If it was up to me, I'd line every single one of them up and execute them."
!!!
The class fell silent in utter disbelief until a girl politely asked, "But professor, don't you think your comment goes a little against what is stated the Constitution?"
"No," he frowned with extreme self-righteousness, "What those people do is wrong and I wouldn't think twice about shooting them all up."
"Well," the girl stood up, "In that case, you can start with shooting me."
Silence again.
And then a boy stood up and raised his chin defiantly, "And me."
And then another boy stood up, and then another girl, and then another and another, and soon enough the whole class was standing up. The professor didn't apologize or try to explain himself better (which would be extremely difficult, considering everything), but proceeded to insult and discriminate even more.
Long story short, the class immediately marched over to the Headmaster's office and the ignorant little fuck was fired.
***
"Well, we can change the world," I told 'Carrot', smiling at the goose-bumps the story still gave me, "We're going to. Trust me."
*
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
J'veux ton amour/ Et je veux ton revanche...
I know this side of me sucks, but I just can't help it.
You had become boring months ago when I first stopped taking your calls. And you managed to become boring again even after I gave you the miraculous second chance a few weeks back. I thought I'd made my point by vanishing from your life for the second time, after that one night. Clearly, I hadn't. So yes, I was rude today. Not just rude, but merciless. I asked you why the fuck would I call you back, when all I felt like saying was 'I'm just not into you anymore'?
I really did say that and it scared me. It scared me because I wanted to have said it in a nicer way, or at least feel bad for you. Instead, I didn't feel a thing.
So I got home today and sulked in selfish thoughts that had absolutely nothing to do with you or any of the others, but with me instead. I thought and thought and finally got it - why I can be as cold and uncaring, I mean.
See, when I first wrap my head around the idea of any of you, I'm the giddiest, clumsiest, most in love person in the entire universe. And when I get what I thought was what I wanted and see it really wasn't, I vanish. I'm well aware I do it and I'm a jerk enough to not really care and still do it anyways. But what I figured out today was that I only do it because I don't love you!
Okay, so that doesn't make it sound any better.
Well, let me try again. My apologies for all the, ah, 'hurricane side-effects', as Ray most kindly reminded/teased me today as he heard me shrieking at you on the phone. Really, I'm being honest. So honest, in fact, that with those apologies I throw in the promise that I will not do it again. Or at least I'll warn you. If you're up for it anyways and then regret it, it's your fucking problem. But I will not jump into things I don't have my heart on.
There. Now I'm just another commoner looking for true love.
Blargh.
*
You had become boring months ago when I first stopped taking your calls. And you managed to become boring again even after I gave you the miraculous second chance a few weeks back. I thought I'd made my point by vanishing from your life for the second time, after that one night. Clearly, I hadn't. So yes, I was rude today. Not just rude, but merciless. I asked you why the fuck would I call you back, when all I felt like saying was 'I'm just not into you anymore'?
I really did say that and it scared me. It scared me because I wanted to have said it in a nicer way, or at least feel bad for you. Instead, I didn't feel a thing.
So I got home today and sulked in selfish thoughts that had absolutely nothing to do with you or any of the others, but with me instead. I thought and thought and finally got it - why I can be as cold and uncaring, I mean.
See, when I first wrap my head around the idea of any of you, I'm the giddiest, clumsiest, most in love person in the entire universe. And when I get what I thought was what I wanted and see it really wasn't, I vanish. I'm well aware I do it and I'm a jerk enough to not really care and still do it anyways. But what I figured out today was that I only do it because I don't love you!
Okay, so that doesn't make it sound any better.
Well, let me try again. My apologies for all the, ah, 'hurricane side-effects', as Ray most kindly reminded/teased me today as he heard me shrieking at you on the phone. Really, I'm being honest. So honest, in fact, that with those apologies I throw in the promise that I will not do it again. Or at least I'll warn you. If you're up for it anyways and then regret it, it's your fucking problem. But I will not jump into things I don't have my heart on.
There. Now I'm just another commoner looking for true love.
Blargh.
*
Monday, April 26, 2010
Fire and Ice
One by one, like fireflies in the forest, they went on around dinner time, illuminating bottles of wine and mouth-watering meatloaves and leftover chunks of bread from yesterday's supper. Round dinner tables surrounded by velvet-lined chairs under elaborate chandeliers or rectangular formica desks with creaky metal seats beneath naked lightbulbs.
Then they came, formal and silent, but undeniably together, to sit down in graceful and synchronized moves and eat. Under the same starry night sky, under the same slice of moon... but sheltered and warm, unlike me.
I sat on my balcony, a cigarrette on one hand and a pristine glass of water on the other, and waited until the very last minute I was allowed the privacy of my room. My balcony, to be more precise. My netted cage of a balcony.
My bare legs felt cold and my freezing feet, numb. I wrapped my arms snugly around my chest and took the very last drag before flinging the down-to-the-filter ciggie away into the night. I watched it fall, eight stories down, its half-dead tip still burning in its plunge to death. I uncrossed one arm and absent-mindedly fingered my hair back and let out a sigh.
Then I turned around and stepped back inside. And while the space in itself felt physically warmer than my utterly beloved balcony, my heart cooled down and transformed back into a lonely ice-cube, two parallel lines melting out through the window of my watery eyes.
*
Then they came, formal and silent, but undeniably together, to sit down in graceful and synchronized moves and eat. Under the same starry night sky, under the same slice of moon... but sheltered and warm, unlike me.
I sat on my balcony, a cigarrette on one hand and a pristine glass of water on the other, and waited until the very last minute I was allowed the privacy of my room. My balcony, to be more precise. My netted cage of a balcony.
My bare legs felt cold and my freezing feet, numb. I wrapped my arms snugly around my chest and took the very last drag before flinging the down-to-the-filter ciggie away into the night. I watched it fall, eight stories down, its half-dead tip still burning in its plunge to death. I uncrossed one arm and absent-mindedly fingered my hair back and let out a sigh.
Then I turned around and stepped back inside. And while the space in itself felt physically warmer than my utterly beloved balcony, my heart cooled down and transformed back into a lonely ice-cube, two parallel lines melting out through the window of my watery eyes.
*
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Female Earthquakes
Okay, this might as well be titled "Women's Rights Bitch Fit #2". I know I've posted about this before, but I still ALWAYS feel like breaking something every time I read something like the following:
So Mr. Sedighi, I know that you probably don't even know how to turn on a computer, considering your well-rounded skills in being ignorant. I know that even if you were listening to me, you wouldn't really listen just because a) I'm a woman and b) you can't deal with having to stand up for your beliefs, because deep down you know they're shallow and erroneous, and c) I fall under the exact category of women you're describing, in terms of dressing sense. I know that you probably had no choice about being brought up the way you were and I feel sorry for your lack of personal motivation to know more and to change. I know that you probably have sex issues with your wife, if you have one (or two, or four, I don't know how these things work over there), which are probably to blame in your ridiculous and uncalled-for declaration about women. I know all that, I promise.
But hey, if you were, for some reason, listening to me, I wouldn't dare bore you with explanations about plate tectonics and the causes of an earthquake. That you could get even in the most outdated science book in the planet. Instead, I'd just flash you and give you the finger and say you know what? You're absolutely right about women being the leading factor behind earthquakes. We don't even have to try. Just our presence in this planet is enough to move the earth. Women do rock the world.
ASSHOLE.
*
“Many women who do not dress modestly lead young men astray, corrupt their chastity and spread adultery in society, which increases earthquakes,” the cleric, Hojatoleslam Kazem Sedighi, was quoted as saying by Iranian media.Yes, it is absolutely ridiculous, to say the least. And I really shouldn't still be surprised to hear such things, especially from such a pretentious, sad and pathetic little man like Mr. Sedighi. Just to clear things up, I'm not bitching out at him because he's a man. I mean, even though I'm pretty much up to here with them at the moment, there are good men out there (note to self: look up the directions to Out There). Instead, I'm taking out my torches and pitchforks because he's a stupid sexist extremist hiding behind a twisted version of what was meant to be a beautiful religion.
So Mr. Sedighi, I know that you probably don't even know how to turn on a computer, considering your well-rounded skills in being ignorant. I know that even if you were listening to me, you wouldn't really listen just because a) I'm a woman and b) you can't deal with having to stand up for your beliefs, because deep down you know they're shallow and erroneous, and c) I fall under the exact category of women you're describing, in terms of dressing sense. I know that you probably had no choice about being brought up the way you were and I feel sorry for your lack of personal motivation to know more and to change. I know that you probably have sex issues with your wife, if you have one (or two, or four, I don't know how these things work over there), which are probably to blame in your ridiculous and uncalled-for declaration about women. I know all that, I promise.
But hey, if you were, for some reason, listening to me, I wouldn't dare bore you with explanations about plate tectonics and the causes of an earthquake. That you could get even in the most outdated science book in the planet. Instead, I'd just flash you and give you the finger and say you know what? You're absolutely right about women being the leading factor behind earthquakes. We don't even have to try. Just our presence in this planet is enough to move the earth. Women do rock the world.
ASSHOLE.
*
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Avril 14th
If you want things to come to you, sometimes all you gotta do is hold still. Sit down on the curb. Stretch your legs out in front of you and cross them, then uncross them - either way is fine. Light up a cigarrette. Don't even cup the flame of the pretty pink lighter you found again after so long (hidden in the lining of your favorite winter bag, of all places). Light it up and let it burn. The wind will hold still for you, just for those two and a half seconds, and then will blow the hair off your face again so you can see right. So you can see the world right.
The clouds will move and the sun will reach through just for you. There's only you in the world and no one else. You take a drag and blow out the smoke just to watch it drift and snake through the sunshine, and then you smile. Somebody halts to a surprised stop in front of you and calls your name, and even though you're answering as if your listening and asking all the appropriate questions, you're not really fully functional.
But you can't possibly be asked to pay attention to the rest while you're busy feeling the world breathe in and out around you. Cars drive by and the earth vibrates with their weight; people walk and their different-paced footsteps keep drumming within your insides until they are long gone; voices tickle your ears; the lights change; limbs and bodies brush past you and you're still there, pulsating with your very own fragment of the universe: your life. You are fragile and you know it. Not really, you don't. You do. You don't. You're not sure.
And honestly... you don't care. You're there and you are making people laugh by laughing at them and calling them stupid. You're there and you're running into exactly who you'd been dying to see - dressed in particularly pleasant outfits. You're there and you're allowed to be silent, because that in itself is the perfect sort of conversation between the two of you at that moment. You're there and you sound smart, even though you were just kidding. You're there and you're talking to a lunatic on the street, but having the first real conversation in days. You're there and you're being offered all the craziest things masked by fun-to-say names, and you care so little about the rest that you take them. You're there and... you're there.
Yes, I've been told I sound stoned more than four times today. I'm not. I'm just here... and there. Holding perfectly still.
Listening to: "Avril 14th", Aphex Twin - Marie Antoinette Soundtrack
*
The clouds will move and the sun will reach through just for you. There's only you in the world and no one else. You take a drag and blow out the smoke just to watch it drift and snake through the sunshine, and then you smile. Somebody halts to a surprised stop in front of you and calls your name, and even though you're answering as if your listening and asking all the appropriate questions, you're not really fully functional.
But you can't possibly be asked to pay attention to the rest while you're busy feeling the world breathe in and out around you. Cars drive by and the earth vibrates with their weight; people walk and their different-paced footsteps keep drumming within your insides until they are long gone; voices tickle your ears; the lights change; limbs and bodies brush past you and you're still there, pulsating with your very own fragment of the universe: your life. You are fragile and you know it. Not really, you don't. You do. You don't. You're not sure.
And honestly... you don't care. You're there and you are making people laugh by laughing at them and calling them stupid. You're there and you're running into exactly who you'd been dying to see - dressed in particularly pleasant outfits. You're there and you're allowed to be silent, because that in itself is the perfect sort of conversation between the two of you at that moment. You're there and you sound smart, even though you were just kidding. You're there and you're talking to a lunatic on the street, but having the first real conversation in days. You're there and you're being offered all the craziest things masked by fun-to-say names, and you care so little about the rest that you take them. You're there and... you're there.
Yes, I've been told I sound stoned more than four times today. I'm not. I'm just here... and there. Holding perfectly still.
Listening to: "Avril 14th", Aphex Twin - Marie Antoinette Soundtrack
*
Monday, April 12, 2010
Closure II
Maybe it's just the weather. Probably. Hopefully. Because I really don't know why you suddenly re-surfaced in my mind after all of these months, right when I thought I had you tucked in right and under control.
Anyways.
I was out on the street with "Ray" and "Carrot" deliberating between the bar or the gas station (it was 9am, so our getting alcohol was a bit of a critical situation), when I looked up a the impossibly ugly weather and cringed. A total "Joy Division sky", as Millie would say. I tugged at my ridiculous bright orange jacket (not my fault - I borrowed it, okay?) and held on tight to my umbrella, and just cringed. "Oh no," I thought, "here they come". And sure enough, the second I found myself alone again, shitloads of memories began pouring down over my head, along with the annoyingly insistent rain.
It was the sixth of July and I'd flown all the way over there with piles of idealized hopes for our one day together. You'd taken the train, just like in the movies, and I couldn't feel giddier about this if I tried. As usual, with you and me, I'd just gotten there the day before and you were just about to leave on the day after. You were headed to the place we met and I, the hopeless romantic, was finding it all extremely poetic.
So I woke up on that unfamiliar bed that morning and rushed straight into the shower. Yes, I did use every single primping product I managed to get my hands on just in case, and yes, I did spend ages walking around the room with my soaking wet hair and that impossibly fluffy hotel towel trying to pick out an outfit. I kept checking the weather outside because despite how miraculously clear the skies were, it was unbelievably cold for a summer day. I settled for my favorite cropped denim skirt, a cute pink shirt and a light sweater, even though I knew I'd feel cold the minute I left the flat. But I was stubborn like that for such things - still am.
And so I waited at the front desk for what felt like years (proudly announcing "I'm waiting for someone" every time one of you overly polite Brits offered me help) until I finally felt the need to stand up. I got up and went outside, fiddling with my rings and biting on my lip and tugging at my hair and telling my heart to shut up. I didn't exactly know why I chose to stand up at that exact moment... until I saw you, standing by the rusty iron gates with that adorable lost expression on your face. Our eyes locked. You smiled. We walked towards each other and produced a sort of awkward how-do-we-act-now hug. I laughed and you joined me and we hugged again - and this time I felt safe and warm steady in your arms.
You wanted to meet my parents, despite my protests, so up we went. My dad gave you about thirty seven head-to-toe once-overs and I just knew he'd have some sort of comment to make about your sexy v-neck sailor shirt and crooked wool hat (which he did, only later - thank god). After those few tense minutes I slipped my hand around your wrist and dragged you off to the streets. I wanted you just for myself all day.
What we did on that weirdly life-changing sixth of July isn't really that important, now that I think about it. It just isn't. Yes, there were bagels on vintage bistrots, a totally lkafjdskk visit to a dingy museum with none of its lights on, and an ass-freezing walk in the world's most poetic park, but other than that, there was nothing. Nothing but the growing distance between us that had started precisely two years ago, the minute I left you outside my dorm room while the cops finally left after yelling at us in Chinese.
It started to rain right about when you were supposed to be dropping me off to catch the train back to your hometown. I cursed the (unsurprisingly) cold weather before I finally blamed myself for my wardrobe choice, until you gave me your jacket and took out a bright red umbrella from your stylish mailman bag. I laughed and you didn't get why - you just proceeded to open it up over our heads. It was tiny and we had to squeeze underneath it to avoid getting wet - not that I was complaining. In fact, the size of my smile had just about quadrupled as our hands touched, and all I could think was "at fucking last!". I made a point to give you sideways looks from time to time and you noticed them. Your sexy thin lips curved upwards in a discreet smile and I have no idea how I didn't just push you up against the nearest wall and jumped you right there and then. I mean it!
"We're here," you said with a choked up whisper. We had reached a large busy avenue and it was (again) just like in the movies: the cars and the people rushed past us while the rain ceased to a stop as if on cue, and there we stood, face to face.
"So..." I began, taking the brave step forward.
"So..." you repeated, closing your ridiculously comic red umbrella. I watched you and you looked right back at me and I couldn't read your eyes if my life depended on it. Panic grew inside me exponentially. You thanked me for the gift I brought you all the way from home and I thanked you for yours and for our day together. You stepped forward too, closing up the distance between us, and hugged me tight. I hugged you right back, with my heart dropping to the pits of my stomach. That would be it and I knew it. I indulged in your feel, your warmth, your smell, and then finally got myself to let you go. I gave you a valedictory smile and you returned it, and then we were off. Strangers walking down the street in opposite directions. I didn't dare look back to see if you were looking at me because I knew I'd drop dead when you weren't.
And that was that.
So as I stood there with my new friends, bracing myself for the rain while living my brand new post-you life, I finally got it. I was tired of feeling like that postcard you no longer cared for (like on that song I'd written you months ago) and was surprisingly okay with it. Okay with tired, okay with not needing you anymore, okay with diving into memories of the two of us - you name it. And yes, I do become a total bitch every time I see your irresistible black and white pictures with her on a beach somewhere, but hey... We had a history together. One of those exciting and breath-taking movie stories people never believe can happen. But you know what the London rain made me realize today? That I liked it and that I don't regret it. More importantly, that I'm ready to feel that way again. But in reverse. Or not. Or both. Oh well. I'm not making any sense outside my head, I know, but then again... I never do when I feel this way.
And I suspect I do feel "this way".
*
Anyways.
I was out on the street with "Ray" and "Carrot" deliberating between the bar or the gas station (it was 9am, so our getting alcohol was a bit of a critical situation), when I looked up a the impossibly ugly weather and cringed. A total "Joy Division sky", as Millie would say. I tugged at my ridiculous bright orange jacket (not my fault - I borrowed it, okay?) and held on tight to my umbrella, and just cringed. "Oh no," I thought, "here they come". And sure enough, the second I found myself alone again, shitloads of memories began pouring down over my head, along with the annoyingly insistent rain.
It was the sixth of July and I'd flown all the way over there with piles of idealized hopes for our one day together. You'd taken the train, just like in the movies, and I couldn't feel giddier about this if I tried. As usual, with you and me, I'd just gotten there the day before and you were just about to leave on the day after. You were headed to the place we met and I, the hopeless romantic, was finding it all extremely poetic.
So I woke up on that unfamiliar bed that morning and rushed straight into the shower. Yes, I did use every single primping product I managed to get my hands on just in case, and yes, I did spend ages walking around the room with my soaking wet hair and that impossibly fluffy hotel towel trying to pick out an outfit. I kept checking the weather outside because despite how miraculously clear the skies were, it was unbelievably cold for a summer day. I settled for my favorite cropped denim skirt, a cute pink shirt and a light sweater, even though I knew I'd feel cold the minute I left the flat. But I was stubborn like that for such things - still am.
And so I waited at the front desk for what felt like years (proudly announcing "I'm waiting for someone" every time one of you overly polite Brits offered me help) until I finally felt the need to stand up. I got up and went outside, fiddling with my rings and biting on my lip and tugging at my hair and telling my heart to shut up. I didn't exactly know why I chose to stand up at that exact moment... until I saw you, standing by the rusty iron gates with that adorable lost expression on your face. Our eyes locked. You smiled. We walked towards each other and produced a sort of awkward how-do-we-act-now hug. I laughed and you joined me and we hugged again - and this time I felt safe and warm steady in your arms.
You wanted to meet my parents, despite my protests, so up we went. My dad gave you about thirty seven head-to-toe once-overs and I just knew he'd have some sort of comment to make about your sexy v-neck sailor shirt and crooked wool hat (which he did, only later - thank god). After those few tense minutes I slipped my hand around your wrist and dragged you off to the streets. I wanted you just for myself all day.
What we did on that weirdly life-changing sixth of July isn't really that important, now that I think about it. It just isn't. Yes, there were bagels on vintage bistrots, a totally lkafjdskk visit to a dingy museum with none of its lights on, and an ass-freezing walk in the world's most poetic park, but other than that, there was nothing. Nothing but the growing distance between us that had started precisely two years ago, the minute I left you outside my dorm room while the cops finally left after yelling at us in Chinese.
It started to rain right about when you were supposed to be dropping me off to catch the train back to your hometown. I cursed the (unsurprisingly) cold weather before I finally blamed myself for my wardrobe choice, until you gave me your jacket and took out a bright red umbrella from your stylish mailman bag. I laughed and you didn't get why - you just proceeded to open it up over our heads. It was tiny and we had to squeeze underneath it to avoid getting wet - not that I was complaining. In fact, the size of my smile had just about quadrupled as our hands touched, and all I could think was "at fucking last!". I made a point to give you sideways looks from time to time and you noticed them. Your sexy thin lips curved upwards in a discreet smile and I have no idea how I didn't just push you up against the nearest wall and jumped you right there and then. I mean it!
"We're here," you said with a choked up whisper. We had reached a large busy avenue and it was (again) just like in the movies: the cars and the people rushed past us while the rain ceased to a stop as if on cue, and there we stood, face to face.
"So..." I began, taking the brave step forward.
"So..." you repeated, closing your ridiculously comic red umbrella. I watched you and you looked right back at me and I couldn't read your eyes if my life depended on it. Panic grew inside me exponentially. You thanked me for the gift I brought you all the way from home and I thanked you for yours and for our day together. You stepped forward too, closing up the distance between us, and hugged me tight. I hugged you right back, with my heart dropping to the pits of my stomach. That would be it and I knew it. I indulged in your feel, your warmth, your smell, and then finally got myself to let you go. I gave you a valedictory smile and you returned it, and then we were off. Strangers walking down the street in opposite directions. I didn't dare look back to see if you were looking at me because I knew I'd drop dead when you weren't.
And that was that.
So as I stood there with my new friends, bracing myself for the rain while living my brand new post-you life, I finally got it. I was tired of feeling like that postcard you no longer cared for (like on that song I'd written you months ago) and was surprisingly okay with it. Okay with tired, okay with not needing you anymore, okay with diving into memories of the two of us - you name it. And yes, I do become a total bitch every time I see your irresistible black and white pictures with her on a beach somewhere, but hey... We had a history together. One of those exciting and breath-taking movie stories people never believe can happen. But you know what the London rain made me realize today? That I liked it and that I don't regret it. More importantly, that I'm ready to feel that way again. But in reverse. Or not. Or both. Oh well. I'm not making any sense outside my head, I know, but then again... I never do when I feel this way.
And I suspect I do feel "this way".
*
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Closure
It's not about her and it's not about anyone else. It's just about the 'grown ups' and she understands. With brilliant and child-like simplicity - but she understands.
She felt like a girl in a movie all through the car ride: the impossibly short denim skirt, the exaggerated headphones, the abundance of rings and bracelets and chains, the classic Ray Ban Wayfarers...
The agressive vulnerability in her eyes simultaneously clashed with and contributed to the feeling of alienation growing within her.
Up front, on the driver's seat, he went on and on about her father, with one laid-back arm resting on the window and a despicable grin perched on his blasphemous lips. Beside him, she told tales of men and cars and credit cards while repeatedly coating her artificial lips with more lipgloss. In the backseat, the kids laughed and played video-games and blew bubble-gum bubbles, and the whole world could be on fire, but they still wouldn't budge an inch (which didn't mean that they weren't listening - far from it).
And then, smack in the middle of the snotty pitch black SUV, sat the girl and what was left of her most immediate family. Her mother and sister discreetly clung on to each other on the seat next to her as if their lives depended on it. Her sister pretended to be asleep just so her mother would hold her, and her mother feigned a phone call just to have an excuse to dodge the spotlight.
The girl was left with herself. Not that that was good news to anyone, but it was just how it was. Left alone with an out-of-place craving for home and for her dad and for her cigarrettes. Left alone with her detached thoughts about the trees, the bridges, and the factory buildings that raced past the bulletproof window on her side. Left alone with the self-proclaimed recklessness she just couldn't get rid of.
When night came she couldn't sleep. The car ride and the Versailles dinner had exhausted her, yet she couldn't bear to stay still in her bed. She missed more than just home and dad and cigarrettes, but she wouldn't allow herself to admit it. It was too soon and too impulsive - even for her - to let herself succumb to such feelings. 'It's the heat,' she silently repeated until she finally got the energy to get out of bed.
Staring straight into the mirror, she removed every single garment from her body, letting each one fall to the floor with calculated theatricality. But her eyes were not her own - 'they are yours', she whispered, barely moving her lips. And as the ice-cold water shot down and enveloped her shivering body, she forgot. She forgot about her soul, her self, and everything that came with it. She forgot, and then there was closure.
*
She felt like a girl in a movie all through the car ride: the impossibly short denim skirt, the exaggerated headphones, the abundance of rings and bracelets and chains, the classic Ray Ban Wayfarers...
The agressive vulnerability in her eyes simultaneously clashed with and contributed to the feeling of alienation growing within her.
Up front, on the driver's seat, he went on and on about her father, with one laid-back arm resting on the window and a despicable grin perched on his blasphemous lips. Beside him, she told tales of men and cars and credit cards while repeatedly coating her artificial lips with more lipgloss. In the backseat, the kids laughed and played video-games and blew bubble-gum bubbles, and the whole world could be on fire, but they still wouldn't budge an inch (which didn't mean that they weren't listening - far from it).
And then, smack in the middle of the snotty pitch black SUV, sat the girl and what was left of her most immediate family. Her mother and sister discreetly clung on to each other on the seat next to her as if their lives depended on it. Her sister pretended to be asleep just so her mother would hold her, and her mother feigned a phone call just to have an excuse to dodge the spotlight.
The girl was left with herself. Not that that was good news to anyone, but it was just how it was. Left alone with an out-of-place craving for home and for her dad and for her cigarrettes. Left alone with her detached thoughts about the trees, the bridges, and the factory buildings that raced past the bulletproof window on her side. Left alone with the self-proclaimed recklessness she just couldn't get rid of.
When night came she couldn't sleep. The car ride and the Versailles dinner had exhausted her, yet she couldn't bear to stay still in her bed. She missed more than just home and dad and cigarrettes, but she wouldn't allow herself to admit it. It was too soon and too impulsive - even for her - to let herself succumb to such feelings. 'It's the heat,' she silently repeated until she finally got the energy to get out of bed.
Staring straight into the mirror, she removed every single garment from her body, letting each one fall to the floor with calculated theatricality. But her eyes were not her own - 'they are yours', she whispered, barely moving her lips. And as the ice-cold water shot down and enveloped her shivering body, she forgot. She forgot about her soul, her self, and everything that came with it. She forgot, and then there was closure.
*
Oldies
While listening to Cat Power's "Lived in Bars"...
KT Tunstall's "Big Black Horse and the Cherry Tree"
After the "Monday Night Disaster"
"Effect and Cause" by the White Stripes
And of course... the "infamous" peacock :)
Thursday, April 1, 2010
The Funniest Thing
I expected to wake up today with the permanent heartache still pounding at my chest. Oh, the drama. Well, yes, these past weeks have been filled with it. FILLED. But I've done my best to keep my smile on and keep quiet - as CJ has twittered, "I'm not asking for a pity party". So besides the silent smiles and my acting like the world isn't really setting itself on fire everytime I come home, I've been carrying on about my businesses as usual. Maybe smoking just a tiny bit more, instead of quitting like I promised "S" and "Carrot" and myself (about that, my last pack is gone - and I don't plan on buying any today or tomorrow and at least until Monday).
So I definitely found it weird when I woke up today, with the sun peeking into my room through the glass doors of my balcony, and felt cozy and at ease. But it was more than that. I felt so not-lonely, so warm and snug and blissful and perfect, that I couldn't possibly believe I was alone in my own bed. I just couldn't be. I rolled over to one side and all I found was the cold wall. I took a second to tuck my feet back inside the covers, and then rolled over to the other. Besides my almost falling out of bed (which is still broken from that thing ages ago) and my noticing the three unread messages on my cell phone, I found nothing. I was totally and completely alone in my totally and completely unaltered room.
I fell back into that semi-conscious state of sleep. Now that I'm 100% awake, I definitely blame it on that. On my falling asleep again. I dreamed one of those light and easy to alter dreams and the feeling that there was someone else in bed with me remained. I could feel this warmth oozing into my chest and spreading through to the rest of my body and I involuntarily smiled. So what if this was a ghost. So what if this was a spirit attempting to drive me mad(er). So what if this was all in my head. Notice the lack of question marks - I really, really wasn't trying to figure it all out, for a change. I just succumbed to feeling those invisible eyes on me, those intangible hands on my skin, those inexistent breaths merging with mine. And when I finally got myself out of bed and walked into the ever-flaming world, I was okay. No more feeling as if I was watching a leaking tap with my hands tied behind my back. No more helplessness over being overwhelmed with responsabilities I wasn't supposed to have. No more feeling sorry for them and for us and for the entire world. And no more feeling alone. I was high on the biggest cigarrette rush without even having any in my purse.
And now here I am with a brand new list of resolutions. Wait. Let's sidetrack for a second here: is it of any symbolical importance that this isn't New Year's, but April Fool's? Oh well. Anyways.
-Get back on the fencing team. The gym is so not working. I hate the I'm-only-here-because-I-want-a-hot-body feeling I get when I go there. I hate the botoxed superficial women and smug beefy men. I hate running on the treadmill instead of outside. I hate using my (impressive... not) strength for no tangible reason. I hate it all. Fencing it is.
-Carry on with the whole "summer for myself" thing. I admit I was a bit delusional when I mentioned moving out a few posts ago. Really. Where was I supposed to go? Okay, so I had had an interesting rooming proposal. Anyways. Since it's not really realistic and since I'm suddenly expected to be the grown up around here, I'm just allowing myself to indulge in my whole month off in the land of the sexy accents. Nope, not the UK - I wish. Let's just say I'll be hearing loads of "hablas español" in July.
-Looking forward to a certain Green Tea Frappucino encounter. Lips closed on that one ;)
-Accepting just how reckless and impulsive I can be, and using that for my advantage. I'm "just a tiny bit" stubborn too, so it's pretty clear I'm not going to change. Instead, I'm going to say what I really think, for a change, and I'm not going to get myself in as much trouble as before. No more proclaiming my love for JD in the middle of the night and then getting myself onboard a car driven by a drunken "Tall", no more holding hands with "Heels" and exchanging weird glances inside completely deserted elevators, no more Monday Night Disasters, no more stuck up pricks I don't even like, no more MPD-fueled nights. I hereby promise I will be one FreeFlowers and one FreeFlowers only. Okay, so maybe I'll just let this resolution sit in my mind for a little while.
-Selling my old amp. God knows I need the money. Or not. Oh well. Money's always welcome ;)
-Being a better friend for "S". Putting up with things I don't want to hear just because of my own personal issues. Honoring the Code of the 'Bjundas'. Hahahah. Love you!
-Making " Diamond" and her friends laugh. Yes, I sing in my car. Yes, I know "Tik Tok" by heart. Yes, I'm a total goofy headbanger every time "Paradise City" comes up on the radio. Yes, I stick my tongue out and give people the finger every time they wink/honk/flirt/laugh at my crazyness. And no, I really couldn't care less about driving on the wrong lane and about wrecking the entire side of my car and cursing out loud and being told on to my parents. What was our made up word for this? Right... Lobia. Lobia lots!
-Having perfectly chilled mornings like this one more often. I still don't know what was in bed with me when I woke up. Or maybe I do. Oh well.
Listening to: "Birds", by Kate Nash. Cute.
*
So I definitely found it weird when I woke up today, with the sun peeking into my room through the glass doors of my balcony, and felt cozy and at ease. But it was more than that. I felt so not-lonely, so warm and snug and blissful and perfect, that I couldn't possibly believe I was alone in my own bed. I just couldn't be. I rolled over to one side and all I found was the cold wall. I took a second to tuck my feet back inside the covers, and then rolled over to the other. Besides my almost falling out of bed (which is still broken from that thing ages ago) and my noticing the three unread messages on my cell phone, I found nothing. I was totally and completely alone in my totally and completely unaltered room.
I fell back into that semi-conscious state of sleep. Now that I'm 100% awake, I definitely blame it on that. On my falling asleep again. I dreamed one of those light and easy to alter dreams and the feeling that there was someone else in bed with me remained. I could feel this warmth oozing into my chest and spreading through to the rest of my body and I involuntarily smiled. So what if this was a ghost. So what if this was a spirit attempting to drive me mad(er). So what if this was all in my head. Notice the lack of question marks - I really, really wasn't trying to figure it all out, for a change. I just succumbed to feeling those invisible eyes on me, those intangible hands on my skin, those inexistent breaths merging with mine. And when I finally got myself out of bed and walked into the ever-flaming world, I was okay. No more feeling as if I was watching a leaking tap with my hands tied behind my back. No more helplessness over being overwhelmed with responsabilities I wasn't supposed to have. No more feeling sorry for them and for us and for the entire world. And no more feeling alone. I was high on the biggest cigarrette rush without even having any in my purse.
And now here I am with a brand new list of resolutions. Wait. Let's sidetrack for a second here: is it of any symbolical importance that this isn't New Year's, but April Fool's? Oh well. Anyways.
-Get back on the fencing team. The gym is so not working. I hate the I'm-only-here-because-I-want-a-hot-body feeling I get when I go there. I hate the botoxed superficial women and smug beefy men. I hate running on the treadmill instead of outside. I hate using my (impressive... not) strength for no tangible reason. I hate it all. Fencing it is.
-Carry on with the whole "summer for myself" thing. I admit I was a bit delusional when I mentioned moving out a few posts ago. Really. Where was I supposed to go? Okay, so I had had an interesting rooming proposal. Anyways. Since it's not really realistic and since I'm suddenly expected to be the grown up around here, I'm just allowing myself to indulge in my whole month off in the land of the sexy accents. Nope, not the UK - I wish. Let's just say I'll be hearing loads of "hablas español" in July.
-Looking forward to a certain Green Tea Frappucino encounter. Lips closed on that one ;)
-Accepting just how reckless and impulsive I can be, and using that for my advantage. I'm "just a tiny bit" stubborn too, so it's pretty clear I'm not going to change. Instead, I'm going to say what I really think, for a change, and I'm not going to get myself in as much trouble as before. No more proclaiming my love for JD in the middle of the night and then getting myself onboard a car driven by a drunken "Tall", no more holding hands with "Heels" and exchanging weird glances inside completely deserted elevators, no more Monday Night Disasters, no more stuck up pricks I don't even like, no more MPD-fueled nights. I hereby promise I will be one FreeFlowers and one FreeFlowers only. Okay, so maybe I'll just let this resolution sit in my mind for a little while.
-Selling my old amp. God knows I need the money. Or not. Oh well. Money's always welcome ;)
-Being a better friend for "S". Putting up with things I don't want to hear just because of my own personal issues. Honoring the Code of the 'Bjundas'. Hahahah. Love you!
-Making " Diamond" and her friends laugh. Yes, I sing in my car. Yes, I know "Tik Tok" by heart. Yes, I'm a total goofy headbanger every time "Paradise City" comes up on the radio. Yes, I stick my tongue out and give people the finger every time they wink/honk/flirt/laugh at my crazyness. And no, I really couldn't care less about driving on the wrong lane and about wrecking the entire side of my car and cursing out loud and being told on to my parents. What was our made up word for this? Right... Lobia. Lobia lots!
-Having perfectly chilled mornings like this one more often. I still don't know what was in bed with me when I woke up. Or maybe I do. Oh well.
Listening to: "Birds", by Kate Nash. Cute.
*
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)