LUST
(I think I love you. Who are you anyway?)
Here it is, the big "Wow," the big "Gee," the big "Yesyesyes" you've been waiting for. This is where you find something or someone and believe they are better, greater, cuter, wiser and more wonderful than anything you have ever known.
Lust isn't a sin, it's a necessity, for with lust as our guide we imagine our bodies moving the way our bodies were meant to move: We can do marathons with our feet, lift pounds with our arms, have stars in our eyes and do a nifty tango. And you think:
I have no need of food, I have no need of sleep, I have no needs other than occasionally chewing a breath mint. You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, probably because you haven't happened to me yet.
FEAR
(Also known as :Uh-oh)
This is where the doubt begins, where the mind comes back home from shopping, yells at the heart, binds and gags it to a nice lounge chair and allows guilt, failure, and remembrances of things past to sit in for a nice game of bridge. This is where you fear what you need most. If it's a person you love then you fear appearing foolish in front of them. if it's a sport, you fear being foolish in front of many, many people at the same time. And you begin to think:
Oh no. What if I am wrong? What if this stinks? What if my heart has blinders on, it's had blinders on before, in fact it had dark heavy patches taped all over it. I mean, I love myself, there are just parts between the top of my head and the bottom of my feet that could use some improvement. I am not demeaning myself, I have relatives who do that.
THE TRUTH
(Love is hard work. And, sometimes, hard work can really hurt.)
Love is a game. If they didn't tell you before, we will tell you now. Love is a game and if you play you either win, lose, or get ejected before the game is over.
There are no ties.
Maybe you'll lose and learn some great meaningful answer from it all (Like if it looks too good to be true, it is). It;s easy to love someone when you don't have to work at it. it's harder when it asks something of you, you just might be afraid to give.
Give it anyway.
The heart is the most resilient muscle. It is also the stupidest. So if this love you've found is good to you, hold it, keep it, shout about it. If it isn't, then maybe you should just become very good friends.
I had this written on my wardrobe doors from the time I was 16. And I am still learning from it.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Of jelly balls and stupidity
Long journeys allow a lot of introspection. Especially when you are all alone. Flights are easy- a couple of hours just pass in the tiresome process of trying to get comfortable enough to sleep and then trying to get some sleep before the flight is ready to land. Why can I not be asleep when the flight lands? If my seat belt is tied then what may be the problem in my state of stupor? Or is it that if they crash they want you to be awake enough to face the pain and the terror full throttle. And then…every one wants to die in their sleep. So- a plane is not the best place for it. Try a train. And if that dratted train is 16 hours late- even better. All the people who may have out of all love and affection come to meet you have probably passed out or gone home out of sheer boredom. So, go ahead and die…no one will even know.
However such morbidity is not a part of this rambling. It is actually introspection. Someone very dear to me told me that I needed deep introspection so I headed home. On a 23 hour journey that turned into a 13 hour wait and a 28 hour train ordeal. Life is such.
I didn’t think much on the train. I slept half the journey and then spent the rest refusing food and playing Ages of Empire and watching one episode of House. I thought far more while standing on the station, while travelling in the fog, while facing the chilly winds to and from the station twice.
Clearly a journey home was not a requirement. But as long as I can…why not?
One person you cannot lie to is yourself- you can pretend to lie but it never really works. I can pretend to convince myself of so many completely absurd things but it does not work. Some part of my rather frequently dysfunctional thinking organ catches me and slaps me across the face every time I do. What we can do instead is – lie to others. By that rather sweeping statement I do not mean that we ‘lie’ to them literally about things that concern them- like whether you cheated them, on them, with them, whether you watched the movie you said you did not…and such. This lie that I talk of is a lie we become to others. What we really are never completely gets across to people. If it does then those people are frightfully boring. We all have some secret avatars hidden in the deep recesses of the Fight Club type caves- that never really see the light of day. I do not know about others. Mine surely never will.
I can’t even deal with my own dark self. How can I expect you to?
I had tried to explain this to another person I love and he didn’t understand. They don’t need to- you don’t need to. Can’t you be at peace by knowing that you may never completely understand some person?
Then I thought about confessions. Confession we selectively reveal- wanting every person hearing it to know that this was our glory and we would revel in it till we died. In our sleep. When that happens we never think while we hear our friends confessing their so called deepest darkest secrets- how calculated these moves really are. It’s not a crime. It is ok to not want the world to know you. Am I justifying it because I do it?
Yes.
They take out their vices, their defects and faults and roll it into a sticky ball and throw it at you when you aren’t even ready. And it smacks you on your cheek and all you can really do is try wiping some of it away. It reminds me of a sticky ball of jelly I had bought once from one of those prank shops. It left an oily mark on my dad’s newly painted wall. The mark is still there- what caused it has been lost somewhere and forgotten about. Dad does not remember it. I do. I had flung that ball at the wall just to see whether it stuck there.
These confessions are like that. You will brush it away because when honesty- even a partial one- hits you square between the eyes- we always look away. When someone is honest we forget, when they lie we remember. That is how it is. In days like these we value lies enough to memorize them. And the honesty- half baked or otherwise- is just a statement. It is that sticky ball that was thrown at you in jest and you laughed it away.
So, if you really want to hide- be honest. They won’t remember, and they will forget it like dad had forgotten the blue sticky jelly ball.
You will- for you threw yourself at them.
However such morbidity is not a part of this rambling. It is actually introspection. Someone very dear to me told me that I needed deep introspection so I headed home. On a 23 hour journey that turned into a 13 hour wait and a 28 hour train ordeal. Life is such.
I didn’t think much on the train. I slept half the journey and then spent the rest refusing food and playing Ages of Empire and watching one episode of House. I thought far more while standing on the station, while travelling in the fog, while facing the chilly winds to and from the station twice.
Clearly a journey home was not a requirement. But as long as I can…why not?
One person you cannot lie to is yourself- you can pretend to lie but it never really works. I can pretend to convince myself of so many completely absurd things but it does not work. Some part of my rather frequently dysfunctional thinking organ catches me and slaps me across the face every time I do. What we can do instead is – lie to others. By that rather sweeping statement I do not mean that we ‘lie’ to them literally about things that concern them- like whether you cheated them, on them, with them, whether you watched the movie you said you did not…and such. This lie that I talk of is a lie we become to others. What we really are never completely gets across to people. If it does then those people are frightfully boring. We all have some secret avatars hidden in the deep recesses of the Fight Club type caves- that never really see the light of day. I do not know about others. Mine surely never will.
I can’t even deal with my own dark self. How can I expect you to?
I had tried to explain this to another person I love and he didn’t understand. They don’t need to- you don’t need to. Can’t you be at peace by knowing that you may never completely understand some person?
Then I thought about confessions. Confession we selectively reveal- wanting every person hearing it to know that this was our glory and we would revel in it till we died. In our sleep. When that happens we never think while we hear our friends confessing their so called deepest darkest secrets- how calculated these moves really are. It’s not a crime. It is ok to not want the world to know you. Am I justifying it because I do it?
Yes.
They take out their vices, their defects and faults and roll it into a sticky ball and throw it at you when you aren’t even ready. And it smacks you on your cheek and all you can really do is try wiping some of it away. It reminds me of a sticky ball of jelly I had bought once from one of those prank shops. It left an oily mark on my dad’s newly painted wall. The mark is still there- what caused it has been lost somewhere and forgotten about. Dad does not remember it. I do. I had flung that ball at the wall just to see whether it stuck there.
These confessions are like that. You will brush it away because when honesty- even a partial one- hits you square between the eyes- we always look away. When someone is honest we forget, when they lie we remember. That is how it is. In days like these we value lies enough to memorize them. And the honesty- half baked or otherwise- is just a statement. It is that sticky ball that was thrown at you in jest and you laughed it away.
So, if you really want to hide- be honest. They won’t remember, and they will forget it like dad had forgotten the blue sticky jelly ball.
You will- for you threw yourself at them.
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