Having a moment.
I spoke the other day to one of my girlfriends about "playing the field" (I've been having this conversation a lot lately - eeek) about why we go for bad ones knowing full well they're bad and shun the good ones even though, they'd likely make us happier. And all that other rationalising crap
"I'd be with someone even though I know they don't love me, even though I know they don't care, but when I'm with them, just for that one ridiculous moment, I feel good. If I don't have anyone to love me, anyone to care. At least I feel good"
"Well yea. I want to matter to someone. It's really that simple. And not in that daughterly or I got your back friend kind of way. In that, craving, silly, unexplainably drawn to kind of way. But if I can't have that. I'm not going to let someone else in to my heart to reside in there, just for the sake of it. It has to be coz I matter."
(Sigh) "Logical. (I guess.)"
What she said makes me think... Really? is that what a single girls life is reduced to these days... a couple of stupid encounters to "feel good." I think there is an "about yourself" missing in there somewhere. Waiting. Is it fun? Or is it just... lonely? Should we use our smarts and love selectively, or should we just live in the moment and love recklessly. Ah questions. Ka'ilo se.
Recently found out some news that... well, came as no surprise. People turning out to be as much of a disappointment as everyone told you they would, is well, disappointing, doesn't cut it. It's embarrassingly suckful. Really sucks to figure that you stupidly put your faith in something that well, everyone but you knew was doomed for disappointment. I mean, how does that happen? Oh well - the real question is - Can we move on already?
My mom used to say that the state of your living quarters is a reflection of the state of your mind. She would say that too, the Clorox Nazi. So all morning I've been cleaning and laundering the hell out of my closet and habitation area. Now instead of being in the midst of piles of dirty clothes, My bed is piled high with clean laundry and the chocolate wrappers from last nights dinner are spilling over my crammed trash bucket onto my sandy floor. I doubt that's quite what she meant but then again, I've never been particularly good at listening to my mother. I can usually hear her though. At odd moments when I'm alone, half way across the world and I've done something I know she wouldn't approve of.
I had chocolate for dinner last night. And fish curry for lunch today. I'm listening to Sister Hazel and Ben Harper and I don't feel like being social. Which all have nothing to do with anything other than the fact that I did it.
The rugby... (sigh) I'm still upset about that. I mean, since when did we get so bad that Tonga could beat us and Fiji could take our place in the quarter finals. Who in the writing of the History of the World allowed that crazy shit to eventuate? (((let em have it. let it go.))) Yea, let them have an excuse to roast Babe, Wilbur and all their friends to crispy perfection. If there is any consolation in all of this it's that because of us, the whole of Tonga slept like fat little babies in a row after the feast. Their first decent nights sleep since the fires and looting.
I don't want to be consoled. I don't want to be told that everything is going to be ok. I already know that life could always be worse and that I should get over myself. I know. Dammit.
I'm just.. having a moment.
[So shut up and hand over the fucking chocolate.]