Forget ten years, even a year ago I would have never believed that I would enjoy watching movies. in the theatre. But now, its almost regular.
I like it. Wish I could book the whole theatre, on second thoughts, there are other ways.
Really nice other ways.
May 28, 2007
May 22, 2007
'Healthy' cynicism
Funny. I used to think that cynicism wasn't healthy. Thats why the bear, the "only funny books" rule. The throwing away of blue clothes. I thought these things would help. Didnt want to end up as a nicotine, alcohol addict.
Won't.
It is hard to go on 'as usual'. When I get up in the morning I am usually so caught up with finding stuff to cook, that it doesnt bother me.
Its when I watch dad leave, that I realise.
Parents can be mean, friends are busy, siblings are far away and the rest come in the way.
At the end of it all.... nothing is happy. And I cannot improve things.
Won't.
It is hard to go on 'as usual'. When I get up in the morning I am usually so caught up with finding stuff to cook, that it doesnt bother me.
Its when I watch dad leave, that I realise.
Parents can be mean, friends are busy, siblings are far away and the rest come in the way.
At the end of it all.... nothing is happy. And I cannot improve things.
Crying
As a kid, I had a really good lungs, I could cry so loud that once the neighbours yelled at my mom. She was giving me a bath.
In a strange way, I think that is why I do most of my crying there these days. The time of the month, dropping food, realising I have forgotten to renew the library books, to soak some beans for lunch, run out of steam, missing something, watching someone get what they have missed, articulate it -- all these things drive the tears out. Hot and salty.
Let me make it clear, I do not like it. Crying that is. I detest the act. I think it makes my dry eyes drier.
But, here is what intrigues me... In five minutes I am fine again...
What does this mean? Crying, makes me feel better???
Look, obviously it looks simple to you. I probably got over what was upsetting me and so on, but then here is the silly bit, I would cry again, over the same thing, any time.
This isn't really gripping you. I can tell. In a moment you will choose to click over that tempting red 'x' in the right corner. Right?
Ok, But before you go... I forgot to mention, I need a hug, I just cried.
In a strange way, I think that is why I do most of my crying there these days. The time of the month, dropping food, realising I have forgotten to renew the library books, to soak some beans for lunch, run out of steam, missing something, watching someone get what they have missed, articulate it -- all these things drive the tears out. Hot and salty.
Let me make it clear, I do not like it. Crying that is. I detest the act. I think it makes my dry eyes drier.
But, here is what intrigues me... In five minutes I am fine again...
What does this mean? Crying, makes me feel better???
Look, obviously it looks simple to you. I probably got over what was upsetting me and so on, but then here is the silly bit, I would cry again, over the same thing, any time.
This isn't really gripping you. I can tell. In a moment you will choose to click over that tempting red 'x' in the right corner. Right?
Ok, But before you go... I forgot to mention, I need a hug, I just cried.
May 6, 2007
Once bitten
I could never hurt anyone. Even if you drugged me. Maybe if you held ransom someone I knew, but I’d apologise immediately and take the blame. So, when you called me to come on over, I knew what would happen. You would confront me about your brother’s death and I would say, yes, I couldn’t help it, I’m very sorry.
I bought you flowers. I know you don’t like them, conservationist that you are, but I had to bring them anyway. My empty, big hands needed to be employed some way. I did not expect you to smile when you opened the door and before I could start thinking properly I had said, yes, I would like some tea, thank you. You had even cleared up the table. Now that I didn’t expect. You are famous for your messy home, that’s when I began getting suspicious and wondered if you were poisoning my tea. I heard your stifled yelp when you dropped some hot tea on your foot. I did not offer my help because I know you have your pride.
I wasn’t really worried about the ‘poisoned’ tea, although I hoped you would, but I knew that was too crude for you. I saw your brother’s picture just before you sat down on the armchair next to it. The armchair was a gift from me, but I never told you. You don’t drink tea so you were having a glass of warm water as usual. I was hoping you would say something but you just looked at me patiently. I really thought I would cry.
Three years ago, when you believed in me, I wouldn’t have cared, but now, I just can’t take things like these anymore. Death, disease, angry words, violence. I’ve left it too late. I’m helpless. You shouldn’t have hugged me when I started crying. It made me cry more. A big man like me, howling like a child who has just lost his first puppy.
Twenty minutes? Is that how long I blubbered? But I think, I gave you my best apology yet. You listened like a mother to a child, and I told you about the prayers, the bombs, the way I felt when I watched him hit the ground.
When I got home that night I couldn’t sleep, I still had lots to tell you. I wondered if I could call you and dreamt later that I did and that you shrieked in anger when you saw my face.
Thankfully, you did no such thing when I met you the next day. You didn’t stop me from resigning and i'm glad you didn’t stop me from going away. It hasn’t helped, running away. But maybe the next time I will make fewer mistakes.
I bought you flowers. I know you don’t like them, conservationist that you are, but I had to bring them anyway. My empty, big hands needed to be employed some way. I did not expect you to smile when you opened the door and before I could start thinking properly I had said, yes, I would like some tea, thank you. You had even cleared up the table. Now that I didn’t expect. You are famous for your messy home, that’s when I began getting suspicious and wondered if you were poisoning my tea. I heard your stifled yelp when you dropped some hot tea on your foot. I did not offer my help because I know you have your pride.
I wasn’t really worried about the ‘poisoned’ tea, although I hoped you would, but I knew that was too crude for you. I saw your brother’s picture just before you sat down on the armchair next to it. The armchair was a gift from me, but I never told you. You don’t drink tea so you were having a glass of warm water as usual. I was hoping you would say something but you just looked at me patiently. I really thought I would cry.
Three years ago, when you believed in me, I wouldn’t have cared, but now, I just can’t take things like these anymore. Death, disease, angry words, violence. I’ve left it too late. I’m helpless. You shouldn’t have hugged me when I started crying. It made me cry more. A big man like me, howling like a child who has just lost his first puppy.
Twenty minutes? Is that how long I blubbered? But I think, I gave you my best apology yet. You listened like a mother to a child, and I told you about the prayers, the bombs, the way I felt when I watched him hit the ground.
When I got home that night I couldn’t sleep, I still had lots to tell you. I wondered if I could call you and dreamt later that I did and that you shrieked in anger when you saw my face.
Thankfully, you did no such thing when I met you the next day. You didn’t stop me from resigning and i'm glad you didn’t stop me from going away. It hasn’t helped, running away. But maybe the next time I will make fewer mistakes.
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