My last post was interrupted by a long, intense and cathartic bout of crying - all my fears spilling out, all the angst... It was good to get that out of my system. It needed to be done.
Shortly after, I took part in a Landmark Forum - it was excellent. Any description or attempt at summation of the psychology and philosophy behind Landmark would not do it justice: reading the descriptions and the books is one thing, but to undergo the emotional rollercoaster of a Forum is something quite different.
Immediately after Landmark, I was almost scared by my ability to listen and communicate with people in an unfamiliar and liberated way, and my experiences were no longer plagued by reactionary tendencies, my interpretations of the past or the attributes assigned to my character either by me or the people arround me. I felt, for the first time in a long time, a freedom I had almost forgotten was possible.
I have since then regressed a little into the patterns of behaviour from which I vowed to be free, but I think I can still remember how to free myself, on demand but not yet as a normative mode of existence.
One thing which reminded me of the feeling I got from Landmark was watching Y Tu Mama Tambien just now: there's a decent review of it on PopMatters - I don't fully endorse the conclusion at the end of the first paragraph, but nonetheless...
A few phrases really stuck out:
The hazy beauty of retrospect - [...] truth depends on the storyteller
How we shape the details of living, despite and because of this risk [of dying]. Stories are all that will eventually remain
Never underestimate the urgency of now.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Vomit
I need to write this down because I am feeling, for want of a better word, explosive:
I have no creativity and little originality. Everything I do well is by mimicking what I have seen done (better) by others.
I struggle with my self and my character every day. This mentally exhausts me; I feel smothered by it.
I feel like I am playing the role of the person people expect me to be.
I feel like I am never, ever, in the moment. I feel like a passive spectator. I don't seem to be able to enjoy things any more. I am largely devoid of passion and mostly indifferent. I hate this about myself.
I think that, for the supposed qualities my friends see in me, the ones worth holding on to are slowly diminishing and I would love to be free from the rest.
I feel like I could never have the qualities of some of my friends.
I fear that I don't have the ability to stand up for myself when it counts. I feel weak.
I feel like the nice guy I used to be is gone forever.
I am always trying to better my physical appearance, when it's my character I should be working on.
I wonder where my relationship with my parents has gone/ is going. I feel awful that I am constantly trying to flee from them, resentful for the ways in which I feel they (have) limit(ed) me and stop(ped) me from being free, and painfully guilty because they have devoted their lives to giving me love, affection and every opportunity a child could wish for.
I feel that I have let my mother down by running away from our family's problems. I adore her. I'm terrified that one day something will happen to her.
I am resentful that my sister can't be my friend. I am hurt that she doesn't appear to know me at all. I feel guilty that perhaps I don't really understand her.
I fear that, if my father were ever to read this, that he would, during a time when he was badly affected by his illness, use it against me. I feel as guilty as I do justified about this. I love my father very much, we still have a little mending to do in our relationship and I'm not sure if this is ever going to happen.
I am scared that I have fucked up my career. I still have very little idea of what I want to do and I'm getting too old to conventionally change paths.
I fear that nobody will ever accept me entirely and love me unconditionally.
I look at photos of an ex-girlfriend and her baby and feel jealous, even though I know it couldn't have worked between us. Our relationship was brief and disjointed, but I wish I had met her when I was older.
I have no creativity and little originality. Everything I do well is by mimicking what I have seen done (better) by others.
I struggle with my self and my character every day. This mentally exhausts me; I feel smothered by it.
I feel like I am playing the role of the person people expect me to be.
I feel like I am never, ever, in the moment. I feel like a passive spectator. I don't seem to be able to enjoy things any more. I am largely devoid of passion and mostly indifferent. I hate this about myself.
I think that, for the supposed qualities my friends see in me, the ones worth holding on to are slowly diminishing and I would love to be free from the rest.
I feel like I could never have the qualities of some of my friends.
I fear that I don't have the ability to stand up for myself when it counts. I feel weak.
I feel like the nice guy I used to be is gone forever.
I am always trying to better my physical appearance, when it's my character I should be working on.
I wonder where my relationship with my parents has gone/ is going. I feel awful that I am constantly trying to flee from them, resentful for the ways in which I feel they (have) limit(ed) me and stop(ped) me from being free, and painfully guilty because they have devoted their lives to giving me love, affection and every opportunity a child could wish for.
I feel that I have let my mother down by running away from our family's problems. I adore her. I'm terrified that one day something will happen to her.
I am resentful that my sister can't be my friend. I am hurt that she doesn't appear to know me at all. I feel guilty that perhaps I don't really understand her.
I fear that, if my father were ever to read this, that he would, during a time when he was badly affected by his illness, use it against me. I feel as guilty as I do justified about this. I love my father very much, we still have a little mending to do in our relationship and I'm not sure if this is ever going to happen.
I am scared that I have fucked up my career. I still have very little idea of what I want to do and I'm getting too old to conventionally change paths.
I fear that nobody will ever accept me entirely and love me unconditionally.
I look at photos of an ex-girlfriend and her baby and feel jealous, even though I know it couldn't have worked between us. Our relationship was brief and disjointed, but I wish I had met her when I was older.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Half Awake in Our Fake Empire
It's now been five months without an update, I feel one is well overdue. I never got round to finishing the compilation of e-mails sent from my travels either. Oh well... I'm sorry?
Time now then to indulge in me, as if I don't spend long enough of every day doing that anyway. I know I've achieved a few milestones in the last few months, but I still feel like there's so much I have to do. I almost feel like I'm swinging between the positive and negative when I assess it all.
In Summation
* For a start, CM has finally come back to London and we moved in together at the end of April. We are currently renting a very pleasant appartment in the east of the City and have just bought a place round the corner which we are due to move in to in November, when the builders decide that it's ready for occupancy. On the other hand, I feel pretty much exhausted, amongst other things by the seemingly insurmountable list of outstanding tasks we always seem to have to complete - was life always like this?
* I'm still employed at that good rate of pay I mentioned. The job though is no longer progressing me in the right direction (i.e. I don't see any room for further development), I am unconvinced by the value of the work I am doing and the repetition of it all is demotivating to say the least. Most people my age would do anything for the money I'm on, but, inevitably (given my character) it's just not enough to be well-paid. I need either to be learning, to be passionate or at least to do something I feel is worthwhile (in a given context) - I feel I'm getting none of the of the above in my current role. Still, my contract runs out at the end of September, and, given that there is undeniably less work to do now than there was when I started, I feel that there is a decent chance that either they decide not to renew me, or I decide that I should leave before the winter hits bringing with it an inevitable lull in the sector's job market.
* I have put on around 15lbs in weight since I arrived home in February, most of which is muscle. People are commenting that I look better for it and I almost feel good about my body again. The juxtaposition of those two factors is quite deliberate: I certainly won't deny being affected by the opinions of others; depending on them for self esteem is just being affected too much - I don't think I'm at that level.
* I have had mild activity in the female department over the summer. God, re-reading that makes it sound so mechanical - ok, imagine it said in an Alan Partridge voice, that's how I'd deliver it. The details then: first there was a girl I met at a fancy dress party - I think I must have seen more attraction in the fact that she was in period dress and the idea of fucking in a tent than I actually did in her, since we met up the following week and I wasn't even remotely attracted to her. Then there was a work colleague (/ friend) that I awkwardly ended up in bed with a couple of times, without even so much as kissing her - a good thing, since neither of us would have chosen to do anything sober anyway. Drunk, horny, lonely perhaps - an enticing combination for even the most saintly. I'm far from saintly though, and my grip on the reality of the situation was somewhat lacking on the second occasion - luckily hers wasn't. In addition, a long-time friend made a pass at me at a party - a shame this didn't happen years ago when I actually had feelings for her: I politely moved away and let her down gently. Finally, there was an attractive and interesting girl with whom something quite good started after - you guessed it, a party - but which has now fizzled out, plagued by her childish "please make me feel wanted" games.
Anyway, it's now late, I can't bring myself to indulge (/ divulge) any more, and I'm going to hit the light and enjoy the best part of the day... I haven't given up on this blog, I just don't have the time I once did and I still don't know why. Night night.
Time now then to indulge in me, as if I don't spend long enough of every day doing that anyway. I know I've achieved a few milestones in the last few months, but I still feel like there's so much I have to do. I almost feel like I'm swinging between the positive and negative when I assess it all.
In Summation
* For a start, CM has finally come back to London and we moved in together at the end of April. We are currently renting a very pleasant appartment in the east of the City and have just bought a place round the corner which we are due to move in to in November, when the builders decide that it's ready for occupancy. On the other hand, I feel pretty much exhausted, amongst other things by the seemingly insurmountable list of outstanding tasks we always seem to have to complete - was life always like this?
* I'm still employed at that good rate of pay I mentioned. The job though is no longer progressing me in the right direction (i.e. I don't see any room for further development), I am unconvinced by the value of the work I am doing and the repetition of it all is demotivating to say the least. Most people my age would do anything for the money I'm on, but, inevitably (given my character) it's just not enough to be well-paid. I need either to be learning, to be passionate or at least to do something I feel is worthwhile (in a given context) - I feel I'm getting none of the of the above in my current role. Still, my contract runs out at the end of September, and, given that there is undeniably less work to do now than there was when I started, I feel that there is a decent chance that either they decide not to renew me, or I decide that I should leave before the winter hits bringing with it an inevitable lull in the sector's job market.
* I have put on around 15lbs in weight since I arrived home in February, most of which is muscle. People are commenting that I look better for it and I almost feel good about my body again. The juxtaposition of those two factors is quite deliberate: I certainly won't deny being affected by the opinions of others; depending on them for self esteem is just being affected too much - I don't think I'm at that level.
* I have had mild activity in the female department over the summer. God, re-reading that makes it sound so mechanical - ok, imagine it said in an Alan Partridge voice, that's how I'd deliver it. The details then: first there was a girl I met at a fancy dress party - I think I must have seen more attraction in the fact that she was in period dress and the idea of fucking in a tent than I actually did in her, since we met up the following week and I wasn't even remotely attracted to her. Then there was a work colleague (/ friend) that I awkwardly ended up in bed with a couple of times, without even so much as kissing her - a good thing, since neither of us would have chosen to do anything sober anyway. Drunk, horny, lonely perhaps - an enticing combination for even the most saintly. I'm far from saintly though, and my grip on the reality of the situation was somewhat lacking on the second occasion - luckily hers wasn't. In addition, a long-time friend made a pass at me at a party - a shame this didn't happen years ago when I actually had feelings for her: I politely moved away and let her down gently. Finally, there was an attractive and interesting girl with whom something quite good started after - you guessed it, a party - but which has now fizzled out, plagued by her childish "please make me feel wanted" games.
Anyway, it's now late, I can't bring myself to indulge (/ divulge) any more, and I'm going to hit the light and enjoy the best part of the day... I haven't given up on this blog, I just don't have the time I once did and I still don't know why. Night night.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
The Enduring Position of Neutral
This is an interesting time for me - an additional no-man's land within the same mid-twenties purgatory about which I constantly seem to moan, if only internally. Tomorrow I shall have been back for exactly six weeks, the first three of which were spent moving house (three times, with a fourth scheduled for early April) and generally getting to grips with being back in London and, thankfully, back in employment; the last three of which have been dedicated to resurrecting and enforcing the routines with which I was happy before I left the country: sensible diet, gym, abstinence from alcohol (and subsequently women, as it seems to be the case that for many men the latter rarely materialise successfully without the former - on past evidence, I am certainly no exception to this rule).
In fact, barring a single glass of wine with a meal at a friend's, I haven't touched a drop in the last six weeks, and I currently intend to keep this up for the forseeable future. I think that when I look back on my mid-twenties, one of the things that will characterise them for me will be self-discipline, at which I am getting increasingly proficient. Hardly Buddah-esque, but proficient. On the other hand, it is exactly because I have lost so much weight and am unhappy with the way I look that I am forcing myself to forgo the short-term hedonistic pleasures in favour of long-term physical and psychological gains. I look forward to seeing the results.
I turn 27 in less than a week. Not much to say in addition to last year's birthday rant, except that perhaps I am destined to play my birthday down indefinitely in secret anticipation that someone special might one year come along and illuminate it for me. [Edited...]
In fact, barring a single glass of wine with a meal at a friend's, I haven't touched a drop in the last six weeks, and I currently intend to keep this up for the forseeable future. I think that when I look back on my mid-twenties, one of the things that will characterise them for me will be self-discipline, at which I am getting increasingly proficient. Hardly Buddah-esque, but proficient. On the other hand, it is exactly because I have lost so much weight and am unhappy with the way I look that I am forcing myself to forgo the short-term hedonistic pleasures in favour of long-term physical and psychological gains. I look forward to seeing the results.
I turn 27 in less than a week. Not much to say in addition to last year's birthday rant, except that perhaps I am destined to play my birthday down indefinitely in secret anticipation that someone special might one year come along and illuminate it for me. [Edited...]
Thursday, February 08, 2007
[work in progress]
So here I am, after four months without blogging and almost three months out of the country... And why am I choosing to break my cyber-silence now? Because I am sat at a friend's place and they are watching Lost, which I don't really care for, and they have a laptop I can use...
I'm currently in San Francisco, rapidly nearing the end of my World Trip, which has been - save a couple of minor reservations more symptomatic of the fact that I naturally find fault with pretty much everything (and, sooner or later, everyone) than due to any real shortcomings or disappointments - absolutely fantastic: to borrow a cliché I used in an e-mail earlier on today, it has been just what the doctor ordered.
I meant to write before I left (back in November), but work agreed to keep me on until a week before I left the country, I had been living on friends' floors (well, inflatable matresses mostly) since the end of September, and pretty much all of my scarce free time was devoted to either going to the gym or making plans for my then-impending trip. Excuses excuses...
I in fact became a gymoholic before I left to come on this trip - not unhealthily so, but in a very disciplined manner. I may well pick up where I left off as soon as I can too - for the first time in my life, I actually felt like my body was looking good (as opposed to generally skinny and shapeless, save a little belly which really didn't suit my frame). It's going to be difficult to pick it up again, but I fully intend to...
Several things have become clear on this trip - it's amazing what a lot of time just sat around on a beach doing nothing but following your thought patterns uninterrupted through to their (il?)logical ends can do. The home truths then (excuse the irony):
- I really do love my father. In order to re-embrace this notion after the guilt-ridden, numb feeling I have had for the last few years, the finer details of which I am not going to discuss here, I had to allow not only the negative memories of my childhood and early adulthood to surface - those which contain some of the most despicable behaviour on my father's part; those which consume me in anger, confusion and regret; those which have continually and persistently plagued me for as long as I can remember - but also the positive memories, which I now realise are a more authentic representation of my father's true personality and his undeniable love for me and my sister, and to a lesser extent my mother, to whom I still feel he has at times behaved unforgivabley. I love him, and while I feel I may well act differently (i.e. more aggressively) in future should I sense he is acting up again, I am edging, slowly but with increasing speed, towards a feeling of resolution regarding what has happened in the past. How my mother continues to cope with our dysfunctional family is both beyond my comprehension and extremely humbling, but perhaps during this holiday I have shared a glimmer of her understanding of my father's illness.
- I am, one way or another, addicted to tanning. For everyone other than CM - with whom I have only touched upon this briefly but I'm pretty sure he is aware, as are some of my other friends although they might not understand why - this is almost exclusively what I was referring to a while ago when I talked about me needing this in order to feel good. If I wanted to give some kind of explanation, I would look to my teenage years when I was naturally very pale and very skinny, and my contemporaries were quite callous and hurtful with their remarks: this stuck and, at times quite embarrassingly due to the social stigmas attached, since the age of nineteen I have been using solariums on and off. This really ought to stop - it did for the longest period around four years ago when I was with the last girl for whom I actually felt something - but I'm still so aware of the difference in the way I feel about myself when I do and don't tan that stopping currently seems to carry too high a price.
- I need to push on with my career: in short, at the very least, I need an additional skill set and corresponding qualification.
On the job front, I really do have reason to celebrate as my old company (the one I quit in order to come travelling) has been in touch, offering me a total of three roles, one of which I accepted before negotiating a 35% wage increase (for those of you who know me, I would appreciate you treating this information as strictly confidential). Once again I am having money literally thrown at me, the only downside of which is that I may well have to work my arse off in order to show these guys that I am both undeniably worth the money, and indispensible (for when the initial three month contract is up). For now, this is a disadvantage I'm more than willing to put up with.
Finally, I have every intention of documenting my trip on this blog by appeal to the relevant parts of the e-mails I have sent to my friends and family over the last three months or so. The only current problem I have is that I saved two months worth of e-mails on a memory stick from which I am having real difficulty in wiping a variant of the Brontok virus (without re-formatting the drive and losing the data). I'm hoping to get this sorted once I get home so I'll post as soon as I get my shit together. In the meantime, ta ta...
I'm currently in San Francisco, rapidly nearing the end of my World Trip, which has been - save a couple of minor reservations more symptomatic of the fact that I naturally find fault with pretty much everything (and, sooner or later, everyone) than due to any real shortcomings or disappointments - absolutely fantastic: to borrow a cliché I used in an e-mail earlier on today, it has been just what the doctor ordered.
I meant to write before I left (back in November), but work agreed to keep me on until a week before I left the country, I had been living on friends' floors (well, inflatable matresses mostly) since the end of September, and pretty much all of my scarce free time was devoted to either going to the gym or making plans for my then-impending trip. Excuses excuses...
I in fact became a gymoholic before I left to come on this trip - not unhealthily so, but in a very disciplined manner. I may well pick up where I left off as soon as I can too - for the first time in my life, I actually felt like my body was looking good (as opposed to generally skinny and shapeless, save a little belly which really didn't suit my frame). It's going to be difficult to pick it up again, but I fully intend to...
Several things have become clear on this trip - it's amazing what a lot of time just sat around on a beach doing nothing but following your thought patterns uninterrupted through to their (il?)logical ends can do. The home truths then (excuse the irony):
- I really do love my father. In order to re-embrace this notion after the guilt-ridden, numb feeling I have had for the last few years, the finer details of which I am not going to discuss here, I had to allow not only the negative memories of my childhood and early adulthood to surface - those which contain some of the most despicable behaviour on my father's part; those which consume me in anger, confusion and regret; those which have continually and persistently plagued me for as long as I can remember - but also the positive memories, which I now realise are a more authentic representation of my father's true personality and his undeniable love for me and my sister, and to a lesser extent my mother, to whom I still feel he has at times behaved unforgivabley. I love him, and while I feel I may well act differently (i.e. more aggressively) in future should I sense he is acting up again, I am edging, slowly but with increasing speed, towards a feeling of resolution regarding what has happened in the past. How my mother continues to cope with our dysfunctional family is both beyond my comprehension and extremely humbling, but perhaps during this holiday I have shared a glimmer of her understanding of my father's illness.
- I am, one way or another, addicted to tanning. For everyone other than CM - with whom I have only touched upon this briefly but I'm pretty sure he is aware, as are some of my other friends although they might not understand why - this is almost exclusively what I was referring to a while ago when I talked about me needing this in order to feel good. If I wanted to give some kind of explanation, I would look to my teenage years when I was naturally very pale and very skinny, and my contemporaries were quite callous and hurtful with their remarks: this stuck and, at times quite embarrassingly due to the social stigmas attached, since the age of nineteen I have been using solariums on and off. This really ought to stop - it did for the longest period around four years ago when I was with the last girl for whom I actually felt something - but I'm still so aware of the difference in the way I feel about myself when I do and don't tan that stopping currently seems to carry too high a price.
- I need to push on with my career: in short, at the very least, I need an additional skill set and corresponding qualification.
On the job front, I really do have reason to celebrate as my old company (the one I quit in order to come travelling) has been in touch, offering me a total of three roles, one of which I accepted before negotiating a 35% wage increase (for those of you who know me, I would appreciate you treating this information as strictly confidential). Once again I am having money literally thrown at me, the only downside of which is that I may well have to work my arse off in order to show these guys that I am both undeniably worth the money, and indispensible (for when the initial three month contract is up). For now, this is a disadvantage I'm more than willing to put up with.
Finally, I have every intention of documenting my trip on this blog by appeal to the relevant parts of the e-mails I have sent to my friends and family over the last three months or so. The only current problem I have is that I saved two months worth of e-mails on a memory stick from which I am having real difficulty in wiping a variant of the Brontok virus (without re-formatting the drive and losing the data). I'm hoping to get this sorted once I get home so I'll post as soon as I get my shit together. In the meantime, ta ta...
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Koh Phi Phi
Added on 23/02/2007
Japan was superb - jetlag passed pretty quickly and all the planning worked out like clockwork. Had several "Bill Murray moments" where I just ripped the piss out of people but soon decided that it was too easy and doing it solely for my own amusement had limited value... Everyone makes up for their lack of English with a real willingness to help. Took shitloads of photos in fact - great city and lots to see, food was problematic at times but I tried to limit my fast food intake in favour of Sushi, Soba and all that jazz.
I went to an Onsen (Japanese steam bath thing), and, in my haste to blend in with the locals, I under-ordered in terms of towels (you're supposed to take in two - one to cover your cock/ wipe yourself down, and the other as a bath towel for after). I didn't get the cock one - I just hopped around completely naked and got a lot of funny looks.
Also went on a mountain trip – climbed a good 850m and got extremely sweaty at the top, where the temperature was dramatically lower = very uncomfortable. Luckily I had a change of top with me...
Tokyo finished nicely with Tepanyaki and Mr. Jones at Karaoke - I "scored" 71% according to the machine, but I was secretly disappointed I didn't get a higher score...
Anyway, on Koh Phi Phi (set of islands where that shit Di Caprio film was... filmed) right now, just getting OUT of the sun for a while cause I'm burning up.
I think I'm going to go for "Option number 2" on the woman front - fucking around out here would be pretty easy (though admittedly slightly harder when travelling alone) - plenty of hot girls - but I don't really think I want to. More up for meeting the woman of my dreams, becoming infatuated, trying to sustain it back in England then getting broken-hearted when it all blows up in my face. Sounds like a plan.
It's incredible here, just the right balance of relaxation and activity before I hit Phangan: blue skies, white sand, turquoise water... I'd send you photos but the ones I have are probably the same/ worse than any you can find if you Google Koh Phi Phi. Accomodation is good but quite expensive, especially for Thailand - I suppose I've earned it. I think I'm going to get a (legitimate) Thai massage this afternoon, then there's a "half-moon party" tonight. Food is dirt cheap, and they have quite a variety.
[~3 days later]
The "loose woman amnesty" lasted approximately 12 hours (from writing the e-mail) - cute French nurse. I have thus far resisted all self-congratulatory admissions – however subtle – to the lads I have met over here, even when they've been telling me of their conquests: I completely avoided the subject when it came to the inevitable psuedo-competitive male chats. I fucking hate it when people - especially guys - just casually drop into conversations who they've slept with/ which drugs they've been doing/ how hard they've been partying/ how late they've stayed up... in order to gain the respect of their peers. "Yeah, a couple of nights ago we had 3 massive bottles of Vodka before we went out, met a couple of cheekies and stayed up 'til 8 in the morning going at it, if you know what I mean... Then we dropped some pills and got back on it, that's why we're cool..."
Distant Memories of a Distant Holiday - Part 1
Japan was superb - jetlag passed pretty quickly and all the planning worked out like clockwork. Had several "Bill Murray moments" where I just ripped the piss out of people but soon decided that it was too easy and doing it solely for my own amusement had limited value... Everyone makes up for their lack of English with a real willingness to help. Took shitloads of photos in fact - great city and lots to see, food was problematic at times but I tried to limit my fast food intake in favour of Sushi, Soba and all that jazz.
I went to an Onsen (Japanese steam bath thing), and, in my haste to blend in with the locals, I under-ordered in terms of towels (you're supposed to take in two - one to cover your cock/ wipe yourself down, and the other as a bath towel for after). I didn't get the cock one - I just hopped around completely naked and got a lot of funny looks.
Also went on a mountain trip – climbed a good 850m and got extremely sweaty at the top, where the temperature was dramatically lower = very uncomfortable. Luckily I had a change of top with me...
Tokyo finished nicely with Tepanyaki and Mr. Jones at Karaoke - I "scored" 71% according to the machine, but I was secretly disappointed I didn't get a higher score...
Anyway, on Koh Phi Phi (set of islands where that shit Di Caprio film was... filmed) right now, just getting OUT of the sun for a while cause I'm burning up.
I think I'm going to go for "Option number 2" on the woman front - fucking around out here would be pretty easy (though admittedly slightly harder when travelling alone) - plenty of hot girls - but I don't really think I want to. More up for meeting the woman of my dreams, becoming infatuated, trying to sustain it back in England then getting broken-hearted when it all blows up in my face. Sounds like a plan.
It's incredible here, just the right balance of relaxation and activity before I hit Phangan: blue skies, white sand, turquoise water... I'd send you photos but the ones I have are probably the same/ worse than any you can find if you Google Koh Phi Phi. Accomodation is good but quite expensive, especially for Thailand - I suppose I've earned it. I think I'm going to get a (legitimate) Thai massage this afternoon, then there's a "half-moon party" tonight. Food is dirt cheap, and they have quite a variety.
[~3 days later]
The "loose woman amnesty" lasted approximately 12 hours (from writing the e-mail) - cute French nurse. I have thus far resisted all self-congratulatory admissions – however subtle – to the lads I have met over here, even when they've been telling me of their conquests: I completely avoided the subject when it came to the inevitable psuedo-competitive male chats. I fucking hate it when people - especially guys - just casually drop into conversations who they've slept with/ which drugs they've been doing/ how hard they've been partying/ how late they've stayed up... in order to gain the respect of their peers. "Yeah, a couple of nights ago we had 3 massive bottles of Vodka before we went out, met a couple of cheekies and stayed up 'til 8 in the morning going at it, if you know what I mean... Then we dropped some pills and got back on it, that's why we're cool..."
Monday, October 09, 2006
Snatch 22
Personal life update: I am no longer seeing the sex-for-comfort girl. It ended (about a month ago - I keep forgetting to write) with a rather frank series of admissions on both of our parts - for her, that she'd started seeing someone else and had lied to me about this and a couple of other details on several occasions, and for me, that I really didn't care enough about her to bother being anything like a boyfriend. Or, for that matter, a friend - she proposed that we keep in touch but I flatly refused, declaring that she didn't offer me enough as only a friend to be worthy of taking up any of my time. A little harsh, but ultimately true.
So that would make me single again: oh, you lucky girls - now you can look forward to either my feigned and contrived arrogance in intoxication or my mock-apathy, awkwardness and self-ridicule in sobriety. What a marvelous catch...
I often wonder exactly what I'm looking for in the opposite sex. For one thing, I obviously want somebody who is capable of being a best friend, or else I would begrudge electing to spend time with her over other, closer friends. The problem here is this: I make real friends neither quickly nor easily, and even when I do, I'm terrified that I can't sustain the kind of constant contact with them that they seem to share elsewhere, either with their other friends or with their partners.
So what qualities would those people capable of being a best friend to me have? What qualities do my closest friends have? Independence; confidence and self-esteem enough not to adversely affect their day-to-day living; loyalty; reliability; humility; the capacity for abstract thought (a phrase admittedly stolen from a chat with CM); the capacity to either encourage or ignore my erratic, occasionally tiresome sense of humour... But this is not all.
I have recently been seduced by the theory that relationships are made significantly easier when they are between individuals of a similar outlook and understanding. How might two people happen to have a similar outlook and understanding? At this time, I really do believe that my best shot at a decent relationship would be with somebody of a similar background to me, as this would imply (but not guarantee) that their outlook and understanding would be similar. I also believe that the more unique somebody's background, the more difficult it is for them to connect on anything beyond a superficial level with another person.
So, ok, what defines my background? My religion and culture are a good starting point: on a general level, I was raised as an informed free-thinker in an ethnic/ religious-minority family, in which the level of religious observance has decreased exponentially over the last two generations. The traces of guilt caused by this decrease in religious observance have also diminished but are still recognisable, even within me. In addition, there is a persistent, Damoclean obligation to appease the tight-nit, exclusive and judgmental community from which it is almost impossible to escape.
Were it my religious and cultural background that substantially defined me, things would be fairly simple, but most of the women I meet of a similar religious and cultural background remind me of those esoteric religious and cultural stereotypes from which I recoil.
On the other hand, there has always been a barrier between me and those women who do not share a similar religious and cultural background: I have always felt marginalised from the Anglo-Christian culture because I grew up knowing that I was different and that we didn't participate in their culture. Examples I have cited in recent conversations include: having Sunday lunch, celebrating Christmas, and calling one's Grandma "Nanna".
The same is true in reverse: my Anglo-Christian (girl)friends did not grow up with the customs which were and still are a part of my life, and so they will perhaps feel a little alienated when I am either carrying them out or discussing them, especially with friends of a similar background. For some, the process of learning about my religious and cultural background and its psychological implications has proven difficult, and in any case, I honestly don't think I can go through educating another girl as to why I do this and that, what one should say to family when a relative dies, what to do at a wedding, what certain foods are etc.
This is partly the debris of a childhood which, while it encouraged cultural identity (which I would never attempt to portray in a bad light), was also steeped in an us and them mind-set.
Moving on, I am also defined, in terms of background, by: my privileged education, recycled philosophies and Socialist ideals, albeit pock-marked by the familiarity of comfortable, Capitalist living; the loving, occasionally overbearing and reciprocally guilt-ridden relationship I have with my family; my father's illness and my impotence to help him, myself or my family deal with it emotionally...
There are certainly more aspects of my background to consider, but I am already setting a specification so detailed that it would be impossible to match. In any case, I said similar, not identical.
Does anybody out there match up? If so, could I lose the veil of vanity currently obscuring my vision in order that the contents of her mind alone made her sufficiently attractive to me?
It's going to be funny looking back on this series of thoughts in 20 years, as I'll either be single, bitter and lonely, or married and inevitably enduring a degree of compromise. The question is, of just how much compromise am I capable?
So that would make me single again: oh, you lucky girls - now you can look forward to either my feigned and contrived arrogance in intoxication or my mock-apathy, awkwardness and self-ridicule in sobriety. What a marvelous catch...
I often wonder exactly what I'm looking for in the opposite sex. For one thing, I obviously want somebody who is capable of being a best friend, or else I would begrudge electing to spend time with her over other, closer friends. The problem here is this: I make real friends neither quickly nor easily, and even when I do, I'm terrified that I can't sustain the kind of constant contact with them that they seem to share elsewhere, either with their other friends or with their partners.
So what qualities would those people capable of being a best friend to me have? What qualities do my closest friends have? Independence; confidence and self-esteem enough not to adversely affect their day-to-day living; loyalty; reliability; humility; the capacity for abstract thought (a phrase admittedly stolen from a chat with CM); the capacity to either encourage or ignore my erratic, occasionally tiresome sense of humour... But this is not all.
I have recently been seduced by the theory that relationships are made significantly easier when they are between individuals of a similar outlook and understanding. How might two people happen to have a similar outlook and understanding? At this time, I really do believe that my best shot at a decent relationship would be with somebody of a similar background to me, as this would imply (but not guarantee) that their outlook and understanding would be similar. I also believe that the more unique somebody's background, the more difficult it is for them to connect on anything beyond a superficial level with another person.
So, ok, what defines my background? My religion and culture are a good starting point: on a general level, I was raised as an informed free-thinker in an ethnic/ religious-minority family, in which the level of religious observance has decreased exponentially over the last two generations. The traces of guilt caused by this decrease in religious observance have also diminished but are still recognisable, even within me. In addition, there is a persistent, Damoclean obligation to appease the tight-nit, exclusive and judgmental community from which it is almost impossible to escape.
Were it my religious and cultural background that substantially defined me, things would be fairly simple, but most of the women I meet of a similar religious and cultural background remind me of those esoteric religious and cultural stereotypes from which I recoil.
On the other hand, there has always been a barrier between me and those women who do not share a similar religious and cultural background: I have always felt marginalised from the Anglo-Christian culture because I grew up knowing that I was different and that we didn't participate in their culture. Examples I have cited in recent conversations include: having Sunday lunch, celebrating Christmas, and calling one's Grandma "Nanna".
The same is true in reverse: my Anglo-Christian (girl)friends did not grow up with the customs which were and still are a part of my life, and so they will perhaps feel a little alienated when I am either carrying them out or discussing them, especially with friends of a similar background. For some, the process of learning about my religious and cultural background and its psychological implications has proven difficult, and in any case, I honestly don't think I can go through educating another girl as to why I do this and that, what one should say to family when a relative dies, what to do at a wedding, what certain foods are etc.
This is partly the debris of a childhood which, while it encouraged cultural identity (which I would never attempt to portray in a bad light), was also steeped in an us and them mind-set.
Moving on, I am also defined, in terms of background, by: my privileged education, recycled philosophies and Socialist ideals, albeit pock-marked by the familiarity of comfortable, Capitalist living; the loving, occasionally overbearing and reciprocally guilt-ridden relationship I have with my family; my father's illness and my impotence to help him, myself or my family deal with it emotionally...
There are certainly more aspects of my background to consider, but I am already setting a specification so detailed that it would be impossible to match. In any case, I said similar, not identical.
Does anybody out there match up? If so, could I lose the veil of vanity currently obscuring my vision in order that the contents of her mind alone made her sufficiently attractive to me?
It's going to be funny looking back on this series of thoughts in 20 years, as I'll either be single, bitter and lonely, or married and inevitably enduring a degree of compromise. The question is, of just how much compromise am I capable?
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Peace, Love...
Empathy is a powerful faculty (and by far my favourite of the pathos derivatives), but it does not come effortlessly to a lot of people. Indeed, the effort involved in empathising with another human being, or even animal - depending on its perceived cognitive aptitude - is often considered too great for the masses, unless a catastrophe manages to take up enough newspaper columns to force the required levels of consideration (and, failing or in addition to that, guilt).
We certainly do not have the time or perhaps even the emotional capacity to shed a tear for every life ruined or unfairly taken, but the West has often been accused of attaching more value to the lives of its own citizens than it attaches to the inhabitants of war-torn or third-world countries. I can hardly agree more with this view, and while stories continue to be published of scores of Iraqis killed every day in bombings, gun-battles and abductions, the real headline-grabbers seem to be of the lone British soldiers killed in action. I am deliberately discounting the ulterior political motives newspapers have for prioritising their stories, for example as an emotive condemnation of war (and therefore the government), because this would only seem to strengthen my argument: people are more moved by the death of Corporal John Smith, son of Mr. and Mrs. Smith from A-small-town-near-you, than the 28-or-so Iraqi unknowns killed in a car-bomb in a suburb of Baghdad.
I was looking only recently at the BBC's obituaries to those killed in the 7/7 bombings, and was quite moved. Why? Because it was easy to imagine myself in many of the victims' situations: I live in central London, I regularly use the public transport system, and, had things have been very slightly different, I, like many others, could have been on one of those trains. I cried a little when I read some of the obituaries, partly because of the things I seemed to have in common with some of the victims. Again, the tears were not hard to muster...
Surely empathy should transcend that which is so easily imaginable? Surely the desire and intellectual capacity to put ourselves in the shoes of somebody so far-removed from our own sickening, affluent lifestyles in order to understand what it must be like for them to have lost something they cherished is not beyond us?
Our commonalities as a species (and beyond) are far more important than our commonalities as a race, religion, nationality, or culture: do we not all laugh, cry, love, grieve and envy? It is only a disparity in our emotional triggers that differentiates us according to those societal subsections.
Without empathy, we are lost in a lonely world...
We certainly do not have the time or perhaps even the emotional capacity to shed a tear for every life ruined or unfairly taken, but the West has often been accused of attaching more value to the lives of its own citizens than it attaches to the inhabitants of war-torn or third-world countries. I can hardly agree more with this view, and while stories continue to be published of scores of Iraqis killed every day in bombings, gun-battles and abductions, the real headline-grabbers seem to be of the lone British soldiers killed in action. I am deliberately discounting the ulterior political motives newspapers have for prioritising their stories, for example as an emotive condemnation of war (and therefore the government), because this would only seem to strengthen my argument: people are more moved by the death of Corporal John Smith, son of Mr. and Mrs. Smith from A-small-town-near-you, than the 28-or-so Iraqi unknowns killed in a car-bomb in a suburb of Baghdad.
I was looking only recently at the BBC's obituaries to those killed in the 7/7 bombings, and was quite moved. Why? Because it was easy to imagine myself in many of the victims' situations: I live in central London, I regularly use the public transport system, and, had things have been very slightly different, I, like many others, could have been on one of those trains. I cried a little when I read some of the obituaries, partly because of the things I seemed to have in common with some of the victims. Again, the tears were not hard to muster...
Surely empathy should transcend that which is so easily imaginable? Surely the desire and intellectual capacity to put ourselves in the shoes of somebody so far-removed from our own sickening, affluent lifestyles in order to understand what it must be like for them to have lost something they cherished is not beyond us?
Our commonalities as a species (and beyond) are far more important than our commonalities as a race, religion, nationality, or culture: do we not all laugh, cry, love, grieve and envy? It is only a disparity in our emotional triggers that differentiates us according to those societal subsections.
Without empathy, we are lost in a lonely world...
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Meme-Lag
Yeah, so about seven years ago Ambrose meme-tagged me. This means I have to tell you what music I am listening to at the moment, which gets a little difficult as I have recently joined the masses and imported my digital music collection into iTunes, where I have it permanently set to shuffle. I'll try though:
"List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they're not any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying now. Post these instructions in your blog along with your 7 songs. Then tag 6 other people to see what they're listening to."
In no particular order then, with a brief and uncalled-for commentary:
1. Dorothy at Forty - Cursive
I share Ambrose's initial disappointment with the new Cursive album, Happy Hollow - Tim Kasher's lyrics are usually so original, but this album seems to be littered with the kind of tired pseudo-existential angst I would have thought him to be beyond. This is one of the highlights though.
2. Beautiful World - Colin Hay
Heard this on an episode of Scrubs. Liked it.
3. Fucker - The Brian Jonestown Massacre
A friend introduced me to The BJM, through their Tepid Peppermint Wonderland album and the film/ documentary, Dig!, both of which are worth experiencing.
4. Leif Erikson - Interpol
Great finishing song to a great album, Turn on the Bright Lights (I don't care what they say about Joy Division having already done it better).
5. On Any Given Night - 36 Crazyfists
I'm going to see 'Crazyfists in concert tomorrow night. Very good Scremo (I think - I've never been too good with genres). New album not as good as the last, which is highly recommended (A Snow-Capped Romance).
6. Lying Through Your Teeth - Head Automatica
Shameless pop song from that Daryl Palumbo dude from Glassjaw and that Dan Nakamura dude from... everything (Gorillaz, Handsome Boy Modelling School etc.), but a lot of fun.
7. Wings for Marie (Part 1)/ 10,000 Days (Wings Part 2) - Tool
Mind-blowing - all seventeen-plus minutes of it. According to Wikipedia, "Marie" is the middle name of [frontman Maynard James] Keenan's deceased mother, Judith Marie Garrison. As Keenan explains in his commentary on A Perfect Circle's aMOTION DVD, Judith suffered a stroke that left her partially paralyzed and wheelchair-bound. The two-part song, "Wings for Marie", is an opus dedicated to her. The length of time between the paralysis and her death was 27 years, or approximately 10,000 days. Great new album too (10,000 Days), much more accessible than the last one.
That's it. Unfortunately, I don't know any other untagged bloggers in order to meme-tag them...
"List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they're not any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying now. Post these instructions in your blog along with your 7 songs. Then tag 6 other people to see what they're listening to."
In no particular order then, with a brief and uncalled-for commentary:
1. Dorothy at Forty - Cursive
I share Ambrose's initial disappointment with the new Cursive album, Happy Hollow - Tim Kasher's lyrics are usually so original, but this album seems to be littered with the kind of tired pseudo-existential angst I would have thought him to be beyond. This is one of the highlights though.
2. Beautiful World - Colin Hay
Heard this on an episode of Scrubs. Liked it.
3. Fucker - The Brian Jonestown Massacre
A friend introduced me to The BJM, through their Tepid Peppermint Wonderland album and the film/ documentary, Dig!, both of which are worth experiencing.
4. Leif Erikson - Interpol
Great finishing song to a great album, Turn on the Bright Lights (I don't care what they say about Joy Division having already done it better).
5. On Any Given Night - 36 Crazyfists
I'm going to see 'Crazyfists in concert tomorrow night. Very good Scremo (I think - I've never been too good with genres). New album not as good as the last, which is highly recommended (A Snow-Capped Romance).
6. Lying Through Your Teeth - Head Automatica
Shameless pop song from that Daryl Palumbo dude from Glassjaw and that Dan Nakamura dude from... everything (Gorillaz, Handsome Boy Modelling School etc.), but a lot of fun.
7. Wings for Marie (Part 1)/ 10,000 Days (Wings Part 2) - Tool
Mind-blowing - all seventeen-plus minutes of it. According to Wikipedia, "Marie" is the middle name of [frontman Maynard James] Keenan's deceased mother, Judith Marie Garrison. As Keenan explains in his commentary on A Perfect Circle's aMOTION DVD, Judith suffered a stroke that left her partially paralyzed and wheelchair-bound. The two-part song, "Wings for Marie", is an opus dedicated to her. The length of time between the paralysis and her death was 27 years, or approximately 10,000 days. Great new album too (10,000 Days), much more accessible than the last one.
That's it. Unfortunately, I don't know any other untagged bloggers in order to meme-tag them...
It's That Time Again
One year since I started this. Just thought I'd mention that - I have no introspective "How have I changed?"/ "What have I achieved?" dialogues planned, just the fact alone. A while ago I thought of revisiting my New Year's Resolutions on here for a public evaluation of my integrity, but decided against it due to the fact that to do so seems rather formulaic and predictable. Suffice it to say that, even as my own most spiteful and damaging critic, I am confident that I have followed up on most of the list, save eating less meat and not picking my nose in public. Oh, slap my wrists...
I've been thinking a little too much recently about how (I imagine) other people perceive me, particularly in comparison to the way I perceive myself. When I think like this, I am reminded of a scene in Godard's Le Petit Soldat (I watched this film as a part of my French course at University, though regrettably I didn't pay much attention to it, aside from this particular scene of course), in which the protagonist looks at himself in the mirror for an extended period of time, periodically covering his eyes, then uncovering them, then recovering them. He is assessing, not without a sense of bewilderment, the gulf of difference between how he looks and how he feels.
I guess people do this kind of thing all the time, most notably when they are scrolling through photographs and linger on the ones in which they feature. This isn't necessarily narcissism: true, it is a fascination with how we appear, or even sometimes the fact that we appear at all, but this is because we are not accustomed to a third-person perspective of oursleves.
There's a fine line between insecurity and vanity: let my accusors think what they like, but I need this to make me feel good.
I've been thinking a little too much recently about how (I imagine) other people perceive me, particularly in comparison to the way I perceive myself. When I think like this, I am reminded of a scene in Godard's Le Petit Soldat (I watched this film as a part of my French course at University, though regrettably I didn't pay much attention to it, aside from this particular scene of course), in which the protagonist looks at himself in the mirror for an extended period of time, periodically covering his eyes, then uncovering them, then recovering them. He is assessing, not without a sense of bewilderment, the gulf of difference between how he looks and how he feels.
I guess people do this kind of thing all the time, most notably when they are scrolling through photographs and linger on the ones in which they feature. This isn't necessarily narcissism: true, it is a fascination with how we appear, or even sometimes the fact that we appear at all, but this is because we are not accustomed to a third-person perspective of oursleves.
There's a fine line between insecurity and vanity: let my accusors think what they like, but I need this to make me feel good.