Thursday, August 5, 2010

Thoughts...on...just all kinds...of stuff...

The sofa

"Should we go to bed?" he asked, rubbing my feet..

"I can sleep on the sofa"

"If anybody has to sleep on the sofa, it would be me" and with that, he promptly got up and walked towards the bedroom.

"I thought about you a lot this week"

"What did you think about?"

I could feel him breathing, his heart was racing. That made me feel better. To think that I had some kind of effect on him.

"I don't know"

He laughed. It felt like he scoffed...why couldn't he wait for a couple of seconds? I was gathering my thoughts...

"I thought of many things. That you are "unreachable", and that it did not matter what I did. You were just unreachable"

Our relationship was based on our ability to agree to disagree. I lived my life intuitively. He wanted to plan his life. He worried about the future. What good is worrying about something you can't affect? You can only affect the present. You can only affect "now". He thinks I think he is ridiculous because I laugh a lot. I reassure him that I do not think he is. I told him my latest theory. The one about "mental strength". He wanted to bring all sort of social factors in my theory. I told him I did not care. I liked my theory the way it was. He laughed again. Or was that a smirk? But this was when he were still at the bar. When we got to the apartment, he had bought a book that I had thought of buying but did not buy because I was almost sure I already had it somewhere. James Joyce.

Then he went on a monologue about Ulysses. This was when we were on the sofa. I don't know what he drank. But I drank "Limocello" cos I had seen it so many times on TV and had never tried it.

Then we argued about why artists are a depressive bunch. I argued that it was some sort of "catalyst". Then he said a good artist is a good artist. It would not matter if one was sad or happy. I said creativity is a very lonely process and sometimes the very process of being creative can bring out depression and not the other way round.

He did not agree.

This man. He is a quiet one about his feelings. On every other thing, he has opinions. Like Belgian beer. He knows quite a lot about Belgian beer. I felt uncultured as he ordered something for me. Thank God we did not have to order some wine. Did he know so much about that too? I only drink one kind of wine.

I did not talk any more. I tried to listen. Then he rubbed my feet...

"Should we go to bed?"

What does it matter?

What does it matter that I am falling for you?
What does it matter that I hear music in my head?
What does it matter that rain makes me think of you?
What does it matter that the music is so beautiful in my head and words make me dream of you?

What does it matter?
I only think of the end. The "happily ever after" end that will never come...
What does it matter?

If more could be said. I would say it. But nothing matters.

"I am just going to bed. Night Sweetie"

That's all I said.

I did not know how it would be, to see him again. He once said he thought I had no morals...because I took down posters from the streets..."how can you do that?" he had asked. "Laws of the streets" I said. Anything goes...

For some reason, that act of vandalisation turned him off. Completely. I did not return the poster. It had a beautiful poem on it. I still have it...

I did not see him for months afterwards. He avoided me. I did not avoid him. He had a right to his own ideas.

Now, there he was at, standing by the door.

"Wow! great to see you again" he said.

I smiled back.

Everything went so well except for the little fact that we all got incredibly wet on the way back...

"Its so nice to work with you...everybody is always happy when you are here"

"Thats how it should be" I said.

He took my coat off. "I'll get this dry for you. And your shoes too" he said.

Just before I was about to go home, he came back with both.

"Put your coat back on now, its very warm now"

It was warm. "Thank you so much"

"You know, I tried to call you several times, thought maybe you'd like to get a beer with me or something"

"Really? Never saw any of your calls"

"Well, they never even went through"

"Maybe I was not around then"

"Thank you so much, for jumping in like this. I really appreciate it"

"Its not a problem. Anytime"

Mental Strength

I am not sure people know their own strength. I never did. I have always thought leaving alone was easy. I am a product of boarding house. Doesn't that prepare you, somewhat, for independence? So we like to believe. So we think. We just do things. We put on these cloaks of personalities and begin to play our roles. Now we are adults, now we can handle these kinds of things. It is not a big deal. So many people, live alone, some live alone for years and years. Some even die alone. People have always been able to live alone.

You've accepted this, as part of life. No thoughts on the matter.

Until you live alone. For a long time. Then you begin to realize...the strength it! you mean all these people, who have lived alone, have had to mentally, be this strong?

You will be shocked. Shocked that these people, who you have seen as ordinary people, have had to be strong...for so long.

You begin to imagine all the young people over the world, who have had to become this mentally strong to live alone.

It is overwhelming. Are we really required to live life being mentally strong for so long?

Not really. That's why people pair up, reproduce, we cant be alone. We don't have to be alone.

Together, we can share the misery.


miz-cynic said...

FEELS LIKE 4 POSTS. BUT I LIKE. all i can say is love and understanding is in the air

Myne Whitman said...

i like the bit about mental strength, i would say though, together we share life.

joicee said...

This is weird,I have been in a sort of similar situation too lol, it can be quite be sticky!
Very candidly written

Longsufferer said...

Nice one...although I am a bit confused, so many things going me...I have so many thoughts in my head...that I need to write down to give me expect a long post from you babes..

Your boarding house mate

Patrice said...

That last sentence, Waffarian, is so depressing.

Anonymous said...

Just came to say i stopped by....
its me !

Anonymous said...

Misery is better when shared, ah ah!

SHE said...

So many posts in one.

It does take a lot of mental strength to live alone. Especially in a strange land. Boarding house does not quite prepare you.

ninnie said...

its really wierd to think that someone in warri can write like this,u re a gifted writer,kip it up