One of the hardest things I had to do was to admit to myself that my anxiety and depression were a part of me that I would maybe be rid of. Coming to terms with the fact that there might always be the chance of having a bad day, of never being completely secure in my mental health was a really terrifying thought. The only thing that is harder is trying to explain mental health episodes to someone who has never suffered from them.
Anxiety can cause sudden mood swings and changes of heart and can sometimes make you feel stressed and uncomfortable in situations where people wouldn't expect it, or where you were perfectly alright moments before. Because of this, I have become pathologically upfront about my feelings, I feel a need to talk, explain and assess situation constantly. I know that the only thing more difficult than suddenly feeling uncomfortable in an intimate moment, or stressed and introverted at a party, is when people can't understand why because that makes the situation all the more stressful. Unfortunately, some people aren't talkers or sharers.
I recently found that in romantic relationships, some people aren't good communicators. Guys tend to prefer to play things close to their chest and aren't very upfront about their feelings. This makes it difficult for someone like me, anxious people need a lot of reassurance particularly in vulnerable situations. Also, because I always explain any behavioural changes of my own, I find it hard when other people don't, I worry and obsess over what it means and usually feel like it's somehow my fault.
It terrifies me to think that this vulnerability of mine might make me look like I'm coming on too strong and I worry about the intensity of my mental health. When you have a bad day, you don't want to be around yourself so it's hard to imagine anyone else wanting to be around you, it's why so many people cover it up when they struggle with mental health because the only thing worse than lowliness is feeling that you're a burden on someone. I think mental health will always be a little misunderstood but I like to hope there is someone out there willing to try to understand my daily struggles and support me through them, the way my mentally healthy friends and family have had to learn to.
Sunday 20 April 2014
Thursday 3 April 2014
Untitled
There is a cure out there for depression and anxiety. Granted, it's not a permanent one, its a bit like taking painkillers for a broken leg, you still have to wait for it to heal from within but it helps for a little while.
The cure is touch.
It might not work for everyone, sometimes it doesn't always work for me. But it helps a little. Depression can feel like being hollowed out and aching; like a cheap, plastic shell of a person. When your mental illness kicks in it can take over body and mind, and it feels like the you you know and are used to is gone and you don't know when it's coming back. The empty ache like loss fills your chest and feelings of guilt and stupidity fill your mind. This is when human interaction can come to the rescue. It has the power to reconnect you to your body, to bring you back into yourself and help you feel whole again. That shoulder squeeze or arm rub or knee pat that says: 'hey, you ok?' That hand squeeze or hold reminding you to hang in there. Putting an arm around you when you sit down next to them. Looking into your eyes when you're trying to avoid the world. The hug that is tight enough that the warmth from their chest spreads into yours, reminding you that you aren't a shell, you're a human, you can feel and that maybe you are even loved. That tiny touch is enough to remind you that someone cares about you, enough to reach out and give a bit you a bit of themself. I am lucky that my best friends are tactile too. One will always snuggle up with me like an eager kitten as soon as we are together. Another will press his forehead to mine, not in a romantic way, just to be close. Another will squeeze my hand or shoulder as he passes me to sit down in class. These tiny gestures are enough to bring me out of myself, to reconnect me to the world outside the darkness and emptiness that can take up the inside. A place where there is warmth, smiles, and offers not to say anything, not to fix anything, but to be physically present, to be near me in an interactive way, so I am not left alone with myself. There is a quiet magic in the emotion that a simple touch can stir up. Most importantly it is a reassurance. It says someone is not afraid to be near you, and maybe you shouldn't be either
The cure is touch.
It might not work for everyone, sometimes it doesn't always work for me. But it helps a little. Depression can feel like being hollowed out and aching; like a cheap, plastic shell of a person. When your mental illness kicks in it can take over body and mind, and it feels like the you you know and are used to is gone and you don't know when it's coming back. The empty ache like loss fills your chest and feelings of guilt and stupidity fill your mind. This is when human interaction can come to the rescue. It has the power to reconnect you to your body, to bring you back into yourself and help you feel whole again. That shoulder squeeze or arm rub or knee pat that says: 'hey, you ok?' That hand squeeze or hold reminding you to hang in there. Putting an arm around you when you sit down next to them. Looking into your eyes when you're trying to avoid the world. The hug that is tight enough that the warmth from their chest spreads into yours, reminding you that you aren't a shell, you're a human, you can feel and that maybe you are even loved. That tiny touch is enough to remind you that someone cares about you, enough to reach out and give a bit you a bit of themself. I am lucky that my best friends are tactile too. One will always snuggle up with me like an eager kitten as soon as we are together. Another will press his forehead to mine, not in a romantic way, just to be close. Another will squeeze my hand or shoulder as he passes me to sit down in class. These tiny gestures are enough to bring me out of myself, to reconnect me to the world outside the darkness and emptiness that can take up the inside. A place where there is warmth, smiles, and offers not to say anything, not to fix anything, but to be physically present, to be near me in an interactive way, so I am not left alone with myself. There is a quiet magic in the emotion that a simple touch can stir up. Most importantly it is a reassurance. It says someone is not afraid to be near you, and maybe you shouldn't be either
Tuesday 11 March 2014
Kiss
I just watched the video First Kiss. What I found funny was the initial awkwardness of the kisses, in Ireland most people my age had their first kisses with a total stranger-and a lot of their subsequent kisses, we have become skilled in the art of connecting with strangers.
What is fascinating is that despite the initial awkwardness, most of the kisses are spectacular, the kind you see people in movies having with someone they love, they look the way all your best kisses have felt (there are, admittedly one or two that area little awkward also, like the beginnings of most of my own relationships.).
It got me thinking about just how bizarre the act of kissing is.
I like you. I'm gonna press my mouth against you. And maybe my tongue.
But it has become oddly important. If a kiss is bad, it can spoil a moment, or even a potential romance. And if a kiss is spectacular, it can make you think you have a stronger connection with someone than you really do. I have met some truly lovely, lovely guys who made me laugh and were interesting and thoughtful, but kissing them actually put me off them, it made them less attractive because it was like we just weren't connecting.
Then there have been people that you never really thought of that way, or if you did you never thought it would be a good idea or work out, and then one day you kiss (usually because of boredom, a dare, alcohol or just silliness or loneliness) and you feel like maybe it makes sense, maybe you just didn't realise what might be there, maybe you really do have a connection.
The truth is neither of these things is a reflection of your relationship with the person, in the end it just boils down to how people kiss, and some people are better than others. Though as far as my experience goes, even if someone is the worst kisser in the world, if you like them enough it doesn't matter, you'll find a way to work past it. But the best kisses can often be the most unexpected, the ones that resolve things, the ones that change things, the ones that came out of nowhere, the ones that surprise you, the ones with someone who you never realised cared that way. A kiss, like a smile, can be just what it is, or it can be so much more, and part of its power is in the unknown, the inability to know precisely in the moment that it is happening just what it means, you just have to feel it and it makes you forget that you even need to know. So even if its awkward before it has happened, or after, while it's happening, a good kiss takes over, nothing exists but the feeling and the moment. Perhaps that's why even now in the overly sexualised era we live in, kisses are still just a little bit special, a little bit powerful, and very definitely special.
What is fascinating is that despite the initial awkwardness, most of the kisses are spectacular, the kind you see people in movies having with someone they love, they look the way all your best kisses have felt (there are, admittedly one or two that area little awkward also, like the beginnings of most of my own relationships.).
It got me thinking about just how bizarre the act of kissing is.
I like you. I'm gonna press my mouth against you. And maybe my tongue.
But it has become oddly important. If a kiss is bad, it can spoil a moment, or even a potential romance. And if a kiss is spectacular, it can make you think you have a stronger connection with someone than you really do. I have met some truly lovely, lovely guys who made me laugh and were interesting and thoughtful, but kissing them actually put me off them, it made them less attractive because it was like we just weren't connecting.
Then there have been people that you never really thought of that way, or if you did you never thought it would be a good idea or work out, and then one day you kiss (usually because of boredom, a dare, alcohol or just silliness or loneliness) and you feel like maybe it makes sense, maybe you just didn't realise what might be there, maybe you really do have a connection.
The truth is neither of these things is a reflection of your relationship with the person, in the end it just boils down to how people kiss, and some people are better than others. Though as far as my experience goes, even if someone is the worst kisser in the world, if you like them enough it doesn't matter, you'll find a way to work past it. But the best kisses can often be the most unexpected, the ones that resolve things, the ones that change things, the ones that came out of nowhere, the ones that surprise you, the ones with someone who you never realised cared that way. A kiss, like a smile, can be just what it is, or it can be so much more, and part of its power is in the unknown, the inability to know precisely in the moment that it is happening just what it means, you just have to feel it and it makes you forget that you even need to know. So even if its awkward before it has happened, or after, while it's happening, a good kiss takes over, nothing exists but the feeling and the moment. Perhaps that's why even now in the overly sexualised era we live in, kisses are still just a little bit special, a little bit powerful, and very definitely special.
Little connections
Today I looked over the stats for my blog, sometimes it is interesting to see what people read, what people ignored, what people plus-oned. Not so much to influence my writing, but to influence my personality. What I share here is a lot like what I share in real interactions, just less filtered, less self conscious, because even though I know people I will see read this, and even though I know real people read this, I feel I don't have anything to hide here.
It is really encouraging to see positive responses to things that are dear to my heart. At the end of the day, even though most of what I write here is just disjointed thoughts, writing is my passion. It makes me happy. Reading, writing, poetry, novels, theatre; even essays or just learning new words - written expression is art to me. Nothing soothes the soul like engaging with art and words are a way that we do that every day. Even when you say 'blah-b;ah-blah' or 'y'know?' or just breathe out heavily as you cast around for the word - this is expression, this is connecting with other people, this is giving a part of what is in you to someone else, and making them part of the process of the giving. I can't help thinking that is really beautiful. They may not keep that part of you, they may not remember it, it may not have any sort of effect on them, but, in that moment of the telling, in the transferring of thought to speech and speech to hearing to thought, you are linked to someone else. There is something perfect in that. Something as raw and necessary as eye contact, or a touch, or a smile.
When I see that someone has read something I wrote, it feels like when you make eye contact briefly with someone across a crowded train, when you brush against the person next to you as you sit down on a bus, when you do the awkward side-to-side shuffle as you try to pass someone on the street and you move the same way, when someone smile at you from across the park. It does not mean a thing, but for a brief moment, you are connected to someone-total stranger or best friend - that awkward laugh, quick glance away, nod of thanks or mumble of 'sorry' is a spark that jumps between two souls. We never know the effect a glance or a smile or even an apology fro stepping on their toes can mean to a person. It is a fleeting reminder that we are part of a bigger picture, a little integral part of society and the universe at large.
It is amazing to me that something so organic, can be so much more special than we really realise.
It is really encouraging to see positive responses to things that are dear to my heart. At the end of the day, even though most of what I write here is just disjointed thoughts, writing is my passion. It makes me happy. Reading, writing, poetry, novels, theatre; even essays or just learning new words - written expression is art to me. Nothing soothes the soul like engaging with art and words are a way that we do that every day. Even when you say 'blah-b;ah-blah' or 'y'know?' or just breathe out heavily as you cast around for the word - this is expression, this is connecting with other people, this is giving a part of what is in you to someone else, and making them part of the process of the giving. I can't help thinking that is really beautiful. They may not keep that part of you, they may not remember it, it may not have any sort of effect on them, but, in that moment of the telling, in the transferring of thought to speech and speech to hearing to thought, you are linked to someone else. There is something perfect in that. Something as raw and necessary as eye contact, or a touch, or a smile.
When I see that someone has read something I wrote, it feels like when you make eye contact briefly with someone across a crowded train, when you brush against the person next to you as you sit down on a bus, when you do the awkward side-to-side shuffle as you try to pass someone on the street and you move the same way, when someone smile at you from across the park. It does not mean a thing, but for a brief moment, you are connected to someone-total stranger or best friend - that awkward laugh, quick glance away, nod of thanks or mumble of 'sorry' is a spark that jumps between two souls. We never know the effect a glance or a smile or even an apology fro stepping on their toes can mean to a person. It is a fleeting reminder that we are part of a bigger picture, a little integral part of society and the universe at large.
It is amazing to me that something so organic, can be so much more special than we really realise.
Thursday 6 March 2014
I am not what I seem
I am not what you think I am.
Today I had one of those days where an unusually high number of people were staring at me.
I'm a quirky person so I occasionally get looks when out an about if I am dressed especially flamboyantly. Occasionally people just do a second take at m brightly coloured hair.
Today really got me thinking though about the reactions I've been getting since my early teens.
I've never been a huge fan of convention, I never wanted to look the same as everyone else. I always liked the idea of being an individual.
Recently a friend of mine suggested that I use my quirkiness as a front for who 'I really am' rather than that it is a representation of who I am. That killed me inside. I always wear who I am on my sleeve - I am an upfront person when you speak to me and what you see is what you get. Yes I do dye my hair unusual colours but not because I'm insecure about who I am naturally but because I like how it looks. I feel like it puts the me inside onto the outside.
Unfortunately for me a lot of people see a nose ring or a shaved undercut or blue hair or a hip tattoo and think that they know what it means, what it says about you. Unfortunately a huge generation see it as 'rebellious' they think it means I'm wild r hardcore or rude or even kinky. Others think its 'hipster' try-hard, deliberately quirky, a front to try make myself more 'interesting'. No one just thinks -that's a person.
I guess I make it easier for people to make snap assumptions by being different. I think if i was my natural brunette, simple makeup and jeans and a t-shirt no one one bat an eyelid. No one would think they have a right to stare at me, or nudge the person next to them, look me up and down or make a comment that I can almost hear. People think that if you have a strong look or personality that you are confident - that they can judge you because you've ''put yourself out there to be judged'. I feel self-conscious more than most because I am not entirely confident with my body and I worry about my personality. People mistake my loudness for bolshy-ness and confidence when it's just the result of always wanting to be heard in a biggish family, or in a classroom. I feel like no matter how much I try to put my real self and my real values, opinions and personality out there for people to see people still make assumptions, they still listen to rumours and they still think they know me when they've never taken the time to really see me.
I think the quirky types, and the self conscious types, will always have a more open mind, they will always be more inclined to reserve judgement, because they have always felt judged.The more you want people to understand you and see your character, the more you observe others, and appreciate the nuances of theirs. I just hope the next time someone sees me with stars on my face or stripy knee socks or an over-the-top outfit they just think 'more power to her'. When I see someone, before I think of making any judgement I remind myself that 'that's what makes them happy'. We each have our own quirks, insecurities, passions and journeys, so don't think you know someone until they've told you theirs.
Today I had one of those days where an unusually high number of people were staring at me.
I'm a quirky person so I occasionally get looks when out an about if I am dressed especially flamboyantly. Occasionally people just do a second take at m brightly coloured hair.
Today really got me thinking though about the reactions I've been getting since my early teens.
I've never been a huge fan of convention, I never wanted to look the same as everyone else. I always liked the idea of being an individual.
Recently a friend of mine suggested that I use my quirkiness as a front for who 'I really am' rather than that it is a representation of who I am. That killed me inside. I always wear who I am on my sleeve - I am an upfront person when you speak to me and what you see is what you get. Yes I do dye my hair unusual colours but not because I'm insecure about who I am naturally but because I like how it looks. I feel like it puts the me inside onto the outside.
Unfortunately for me a lot of people see a nose ring or a shaved undercut or blue hair or a hip tattoo and think that they know what it means, what it says about you. Unfortunately a huge generation see it as 'rebellious' they think it means I'm wild r hardcore or rude or even kinky. Others think its 'hipster' try-hard, deliberately quirky, a front to try make myself more 'interesting'. No one just thinks -that's a person.
I guess I make it easier for people to make snap assumptions by being different. I think if i was my natural brunette, simple makeup and jeans and a t-shirt no one one bat an eyelid. No one would think they have a right to stare at me, or nudge the person next to them, look me up and down or make a comment that I can almost hear. People think that if you have a strong look or personality that you are confident - that they can judge you because you've ''put yourself out there to be judged'. I feel self-conscious more than most because I am not entirely confident with my body and I worry about my personality. People mistake my loudness for bolshy-ness and confidence when it's just the result of always wanting to be heard in a biggish family, or in a classroom. I feel like no matter how much I try to put my real self and my real values, opinions and personality out there for people to see people still make assumptions, they still listen to rumours and they still think they know me when they've never taken the time to really see me.
I think the quirky types, and the self conscious types, will always have a more open mind, they will always be more inclined to reserve judgement, because they have always felt judged.The more you want people to understand you and see your character, the more you observe others, and appreciate the nuances of theirs. I just hope the next time someone sees me with stars on my face or stripy knee socks or an over-the-top outfit they just think 'more power to her'. When I see someone, before I think of making any judgement I remind myself that 'that's what makes them happy'. We each have our own quirks, insecurities, passions and journeys, so don't think you know someone until they've told you theirs.
Saturday 1 March 2014
the best
I don't blog about my best friends enough.
For so many years you have so many close friends, and even now I'm lucky enough to have lots of best friends. The difference with a very best friend is that it;' a lot like being in love, even when they drive you completely crazy or they don't understand you or they're annoying or selfish it never makes you want to stop being friends with them. It irritates you more than normal people because you know you have to put up with it forever. But you don't care because you know that they put up with all the pain-in-the-ass aspects of you. You know that, at the end of the day, even the biggest fight between you wouldn't stop them coming over if you really needed them.
My best friend has become the sister I never had. We share everything and sometimes we want to murder each other and occasionally we make comments on each others appearances and occasionally we even fight about boys. We've known each other for more than 6 years now and during that time so much has changed. We've become more like one another than we ever thought we would be.
It's kind of my perfect example for how you become who you are based on the people around you. I probably would never think about myself first if it weren't for her, and she probably wouldn't be half as goofy if it weren't for putting up with me.
I think the thing that is better about the love you feel for a best friend is that it doesn't get in the way like romantic love. It doesn't make you selfish or stupid, it doesn't close out other opportunities and it doesn't make you neurotic and obsessive and constantly analytical the way romantic love can. Friend love only makes you a better person, it only makes your life easier, more fun, more full.
All my greatest adventures, goofiest moments, the smiles that follow tears, the days where you do nothing but it's somehow fun, those are always going to be with my friends. The moments with someone you love are a different kind of special, the kind that once they're over, or the relationship is over, it is hard to relive. The memories you make with your friends though, those are the ones that will always last in the truest sense-in the way that makes you smile or cringe or even well up a little or just sigh with satisfaction. That's why they're 'best' friends -because all the best things in life and in yourself come from having them.
For so many years you have so many close friends, and even now I'm lucky enough to have lots of best friends. The difference with a very best friend is that it;' a lot like being in love, even when they drive you completely crazy or they don't understand you or they're annoying or selfish it never makes you want to stop being friends with them. It irritates you more than normal people because you know you have to put up with it forever. But you don't care because you know that they put up with all the pain-in-the-ass aspects of you. You know that, at the end of the day, even the biggest fight between you wouldn't stop them coming over if you really needed them.
My best friend has become the sister I never had. We share everything and sometimes we want to murder each other and occasionally we make comments on each others appearances and occasionally we even fight about boys. We've known each other for more than 6 years now and during that time so much has changed. We've become more like one another than we ever thought we would be.
It's kind of my perfect example for how you become who you are based on the people around you. I probably would never think about myself first if it weren't for her, and she probably wouldn't be half as goofy if it weren't for putting up with me.
I think the thing that is better about the love you feel for a best friend is that it doesn't get in the way like romantic love. It doesn't make you selfish or stupid, it doesn't close out other opportunities and it doesn't make you neurotic and obsessive and constantly analytical the way romantic love can. Friend love only makes you a better person, it only makes your life easier, more fun, more full.
All my greatest adventures, goofiest moments, the smiles that follow tears, the days where you do nothing but it's somehow fun, those are always going to be with my friends. The moments with someone you love are a different kind of special, the kind that once they're over, or the relationship is over, it is hard to relive. The memories you make with your friends though, those are the ones that will always last in the truest sense-in the way that makes you smile or cringe or even well up a little or just sigh with satisfaction. That's why they're 'best' friends -because all the best things in life and in yourself come from having them.
What do we want?
I don't think I will ever fully understand only wanting what you can't have.
I have never wanted something merely for the thrill of the forbidden-ness of it. I have never coveted a friend's ex, never fancied a guy cos he had a girlfriend, I have never thought about stealing something because I can't afford it, I have never loved someone because they don't love me back.
I think it's because I have an innate need to be secure in all my decisions, when I enter into something I always know exactly how important it is to me and how much I am committing to it. I never risk anything on a changeable feeling.
If i kiss someone just because I felt like kissing them, I'll make sure they don't think it's love. If I like someone enough to flirt with them, it's because I'm hoping something will come out of it.
Recently I have been on the wrong side of other people's momentary whims. People who want me, or something from me, because they can't have it. Once they get it they don't want it anymore.
My ex wanting to talk to me, until he's got out all his stress and then he's gone, leaving me drained and lonely.
Boys texting you all weekend only to tell you when they see you that they aren't sure this is such a good idea.
It hurts you if you commit to things and it hurts you if you avoid committing for your own protection. In the end it seems like no one gets what they want except for the people who have no idea where they're going. The happiest people I know do whatever they want in the moment and ignore the consequences and are only unhappy when the consequences come home to roost. And even then only temporarily.
Those of us who spend our lives cautiously making sure we burn no bridges soon discover that we never really finish building any new ones because we're upkeeping everything that's already there and doing nothing for us.
But being proactive doesn't yield many rewards because those of us who are shy, and careful, we can't fully be assertive because it might mean cancelling something or cutting someone out or letting go of something. We've been hurt enough that we're terrified of causing pain. But honesty and being easy-going aren't enough.
I have never wanted something merely for the thrill of the forbidden-ness of it. I have never coveted a friend's ex, never fancied a guy cos he had a girlfriend, I have never thought about stealing something because I can't afford it, I have never loved someone because they don't love me back.
I think it's because I have an innate need to be secure in all my decisions, when I enter into something I always know exactly how important it is to me and how much I am committing to it. I never risk anything on a changeable feeling.
If i kiss someone just because I felt like kissing them, I'll make sure they don't think it's love. If I like someone enough to flirt with them, it's because I'm hoping something will come out of it.
Recently I have been on the wrong side of other people's momentary whims. People who want me, or something from me, because they can't have it. Once they get it they don't want it anymore.
My ex wanting to talk to me, until he's got out all his stress and then he's gone, leaving me drained and lonely.
Boys texting you all weekend only to tell you when they see you that they aren't sure this is such a good idea.
It hurts you if you commit to things and it hurts you if you avoid committing for your own protection. In the end it seems like no one gets what they want except for the people who have no idea where they're going. The happiest people I know do whatever they want in the moment and ignore the consequences and are only unhappy when the consequences come home to roost. And even then only temporarily.
Those of us who spend our lives cautiously making sure we burn no bridges soon discover that we never really finish building any new ones because we're upkeeping everything that's already there and doing nothing for us.
But being proactive doesn't yield many rewards because those of us who are shy, and careful, we can't fully be assertive because it might mean cancelling something or cutting someone out or letting go of something. We've been hurt enough that we're terrified of causing pain. But honesty and being easy-going aren't enough.
Sunday 26 January 2014
Suprises
I was thinking recently about something that a friend said to me a while ago. He said I was one of the only people he knew that he felt like he wouldn't be surprised by anything I said. He basically said that whether I said I was a secret axe murderer or a white witch or a Mexican wrestler none of that would surprise him.
It was only upon reflection that I realised I am actually extremely complimented by this. It felt, in some small way, like someone was acknowledging my infinite potential to be or do anything-that I was a person who had the capacity to be odder or bolder or more different to how I might immediately appear. I'm actually pretty delighted to think of it.
I have always had a degree of pride in my oddness. What I lack in body confidence or ability to flirt I make up for in bizarre personality traits and hobbies and an immature sense of humour. I sometimes worry I will never stop being the wild-card girlfriend to more normal guys but I like at least that it makes me memorable. I feel that people appreciate my oddness and my ability to own it, but sometimes don't realise just how normal I am underneath. I still want a lot of the same things, I still want people to see how really am, not just the quirks that they think define me.
To know that anyone out there thinks that I might be capable of anything means that there is someone who realises how you cannot really know a person, however much they might seem to wear their personality on their sleeve. Perhaps that's why I liked it so much. To know that someone, without even trying to get me, or even meaning to, kind of just perfectly did.
It was only upon reflection that I realised I am actually extremely complimented by this. It felt, in some small way, like someone was acknowledging my infinite potential to be or do anything-that I was a person who had the capacity to be odder or bolder or more different to how I might immediately appear. I'm actually pretty delighted to think of it.
I have always had a degree of pride in my oddness. What I lack in body confidence or ability to flirt I make up for in bizarre personality traits and hobbies and an immature sense of humour. I sometimes worry I will never stop being the wild-card girlfriend to more normal guys but I like at least that it makes me memorable. I feel that people appreciate my oddness and my ability to own it, but sometimes don't realise just how normal I am underneath. I still want a lot of the same things, I still want people to see how really am, not just the quirks that they think define me.
To know that anyone out there thinks that I might be capable of anything means that there is someone who realises how you cannot really know a person, however much they might seem to wear their personality on their sleeve. Perhaps that's why I liked it so much. To know that someone, without even trying to get me, or even meaning to, kind of just perfectly did.
Sunday 19 January 2014
Just one kiss
Kiss me 'til I don't know who I am anymore.
So I forget that I feel empty sometimes.
So I don't have a chance to worry how inadequate I am,
or if I love you or not,
or where this is going.
Kiss me so that all I know is lips on my lips,
your hand on my cheek,
the darkness inside my eyelids,
and the beat of my heart.
Stop thinking.
Just kiss me.
So I forget that I feel empty sometimes.
So I don't have a chance to worry how inadequate I am,
or if I love you or not,
or where this is going.
Kiss me so that all I know is lips on my lips,
your hand on my cheek,
the darkness inside my eyelids,
and the beat of my heart.
Stop thinking.
Just kiss me.
Saturday 18 January 2014
Message to my secret admirer
I expected your identity would not still be a secret.
It has been nearly three months since the beautiful flowers arrived on my doorstop.
My mum called me dying to open the accompanying card and find out who was responsible.
When I saw the little pot of tiny white roses my heart skipped a beat.
At first I thought they were from my grandmother (the only person ever to have sent me flowers before) but the card put that thought out of my mind.
The handwriting was disguised and the message was in simple block capitals
'HAPPY BIRTHDAY. LOVE FROM AN ADMIRER. X'
My name on the envelope held no clue either. Only that the person called me Kat, and that they knew where I lived.
If you are reading this my oh so secretive friend, I have no hope to guess who you are. I have wracked and wracked my brain and still your identity evades me. If you still wish to keep your secrecy, know that you made my year.
Never have I been so delighted and complemented.
And should I never get to say so in person, thank-you for the most thoughtful birthday gift I have received... probably ever.
It has been nearly three months since the beautiful flowers arrived on my doorstop.
My mum called me dying to open the accompanying card and find out who was responsible.
When I saw the little pot of tiny white roses my heart skipped a beat.
At first I thought they were from my grandmother (the only person ever to have sent me flowers before) but the card put that thought out of my mind.
The handwriting was disguised and the message was in simple block capitals
'HAPPY BIRTHDAY. LOVE FROM AN ADMIRER. X'
My name on the envelope held no clue either. Only that the person called me Kat, and that they knew where I lived.
If you are reading this my oh so secretive friend, I have no hope to guess who you are. I have wracked and wracked my brain and still your identity evades me. If you still wish to keep your secrecy, know that you made my year.
Never have I been so delighted and complemented.
And should I never get to say so in person, thank-you for the most thoughtful birthday gift I have received... probably ever.
Beautiful but boring
Being a literature student I think a lot about the combination of aesthetic and intrigue. Just as the words in poetry or the short story are most beautiful when their meaning is expressive so too are many things in life. Form without substance is the most disappointing thing we can encounter in life.
Art has this same problem for me, so often someone can paint, or draw, or make something beautiful, but if it doesn't intrigue, seduce or make you feel something, the beauty is rendered worthless.
What got me thinking about this was a chat I had with a friend of mine. He was out for the night and when I asked him how it went the next day he said he shifted a gorgeous girl but said she was excruciatingly boring. It reminded me of similar problems I've had in my own love life. I am not a picky person, I'm very easy going but the top thing that attracts me is interesting people. I just am not attracted unless a person has a bit of personality. I went on two dates with a really fantastic guy a while back. He was gorgeous, funny, chatty, interested in film and he could drive. My best friend thought he was the perfect man. I felt zero spark. He just wasn't...interesting enough for me.
While my taste in men thus far has been boys with long eyelashes who look vaguely unemployable the other common denominator is that they have each been odd in their own way. Even the ones who looked more or less normal! I think oddness is the spice of life and I'd rather spend time with someone who's a little bit different than a model any day!
Beautiful but boring may appeal in the mainstream media but I think in art and in people substance is essential. I'm pretty open with my oddness, but not everyone can wear it on their sleeve. I think the only thing more exciting than meeting a really good-looking person is when you discover they're also weird as hell! You can be as tall dark and handsome as you like but unless you secretly read comics, or obsess over performance art, or knit or dance like an electrocuted fish then where's the fun in that?
Art has this same problem for me, so often someone can paint, or draw, or make something beautiful, but if it doesn't intrigue, seduce or make you feel something, the beauty is rendered worthless.
What got me thinking about this was a chat I had with a friend of mine. He was out for the night and when I asked him how it went the next day he said he shifted a gorgeous girl but said she was excruciatingly boring. It reminded me of similar problems I've had in my own love life. I am not a picky person, I'm very easy going but the top thing that attracts me is interesting people. I just am not attracted unless a person has a bit of personality. I went on two dates with a really fantastic guy a while back. He was gorgeous, funny, chatty, interested in film and he could drive. My best friend thought he was the perfect man. I felt zero spark. He just wasn't...interesting enough for me.
While my taste in men thus far has been boys with long eyelashes who look vaguely unemployable the other common denominator is that they have each been odd in their own way. Even the ones who looked more or less normal! I think oddness is the spice of life and I'd rather spend time with someone who's a little bit different than a model any day!
Beautiful but boring may appeal in the mainstream media but I think in art and in people substance is essential. I'm pretty open with my oddness, but not everyone can wear it on their sleeve. I think the only thing more exciting than meeting a really good-looking person is when you discover they're also weird as hell! You can be as tall dark and handsome as you like but unless you secretly read comics, or obsess over performance art, or knit or dance like an electrocuted fish then where's the fun in that?
Friday 10 January 2014
She's the girl
She's the girl you used to laugh with, until her happiness made you feel inadequate. She's the girl you used to talk boys with, 'til you couldn't bear to hear her talk about a certain boy. She's the girl you used to dance around with, 'til you started to think she was much more fun than you. She's the girl you used to tell her how amazing she looked, until he thought she looked better than you. She's the girl you loved to be around, until being around her reminded you of him. She's the girl who was your best friend while she was one of his, and now she's the girl who was more than you. Now all the things you like best about her remind her of all the reasons he would like her better, and that's one more thing that can never be the same again.
Thursday 2 January 2014
A lucky find
Sometimes it's surprising what can help you heal. Comfort can come from the most unlikely of places. Recently, I've been having a rough spell and I haven't wanted to log on here for fear of giving too much of myself away. There are some things I don't want people to see me as, and depression is not an outfit I wear well.
Luckily, I sought comfort in the right place, a friend not only cuddled me, and let me pick the movies, and let me eat what I wanted without judging glances. A friend who cooked me a meal I wouldn't be allergic to, even though it took him forever to find ingredients that wouldn't bother my stomach. A friend who told me I was beautiful with no ulterior motive, let me talk about my ex like it was ok to still be sad over it, who reminded me what friendship was and through his made me realise just how many people like that I had in my life.Sometimes you forget what it's like to have someone who'll drive you home even when they're tired, or who'll sit through a programme they hate because they know it might make you smile, someone who will reply to your messages straight away because they know it makes you nervous when people don't. This is someone who made me take a compliment because I was forced to admit that he would never lie to me. It is rare to find someone who will never lie, best friends don't always tell the whole truth because we love each other and there are some things you should never say because you know they cannot be forgotten. It is rare to have a friend who is not jealous of some part of you or of whom you are not jealous, so I was lucky to have this person in my life.
I realise much of this blog has become increasingly sappy but I feel some people are due a tribute, others an explanation, and some are just people I need to process in my mind. It's easier to say it to the blank white page than to a smiling face that will never realise how much it has meant to you. Because there are some times when I love you simply doesn't tell the person what you mean.
Luckily, I sought comfort in the right place, a friend not only cuddled me, and let me pick the movies, and let me eat what I wanted without judging glances. A friend who cooked me a meal I wouldn't be allergic to, even though it took him forever to find ingredients that wouldn't bother my stomach. A friend who told me I was beautiful with no ulterior motive, let me talk about my ex like it was ok to still be sad over it, who reminded me what friendship was and through his made me realise just how many people like that I had in my life.Sometimes you forget what it's like to have someone who'll drive you home even when they're tired, or who'll sit through a programme they hate because they know it might make you smile, someone who will reply to your messages straight away because they know it makes you nervous when people don't. This is someone who made me take a compliment because I was forced to admit that he would never lie to me. It is rare to find someone who will never lie, best friends don't always tell the whole truth because we love each other and there are some things you should never say because you know they cannot be forgotten. It is rare to have a friend who is not jealous of some part of you or of whom you are not jealous, so I was lucky to have this person in my life.
I realise much of this blog has become increasingly sappy but I feel some people are due a tribute, others an explanation, and some are just people I need to process in my mind. It's easier to say it to the blank white page than to a smiling face that will never realise how much it has meant to you. Because there are some times when I love you simply doesn't tell the person what you mean.
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