I like late night conversations. The madness that results the next day from my sleepiness is just an added bonus to someone like me who just appreciates chaos where they can find it. I was told that there was this Greek Goddess who made it her immortal life’s work to cause chaos wherever she could. Now that sounds like the perfect job to me. I cause it even when I am not really trying. Can you just imagine what it would be like if I actually put in any effort?
Again, I digress. I do it all the time. It reinforces my mantra of chaos!
Back to the topic at hand. Late night conversations. I like them. I like having them. With you especially. We talk about everything from existentialism to the reasons for insecurity. From bad coffee to unexpected visitors at 6 a.m.
From embarrassments to crowning glories. Walnuts to Harry potter.
That seems to be the broadest spectrum I have ever come across. For a while at least. I have known you for just a while, however I find it so easy to tell you just about anything that crosses my mind. A friend said it is the rarest thing to find people you can be yourself around. I am glad I can be me around you. I hope you feel the same way. You get me. Mad teapot songs and all. I like that.
Its funny, how knowing someone for years, doesn’t necessarily mean that you can be completely comfortable around them. It might be your best friend. It might be your family. But then there are those few and far betweens, that you can just be around and not have to double check what you are saying. You can just be. Plain and simple.
Just be.
Showing posts with label chaos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chaos. Show all posts
Monday, March 10, 2008
One of those days...
Bugger. Bugger. Bugger.
This day has driven me insane and up the wall… not necessarily in that order. But I have a plan that would make an evil genius proud. Let the universe conspire against me. I shall conspire against it. Bwhahahahaaaa. Err ok… so that might be me overdoing it. Oh I don’t care anyway.
I have MPD and one of those people has OCD or so she has told me… many times.
Then again, I used to think these mad bouts of mine were something to hide. Why? Because I was always wondering if it was ok to be a little crazy now and then.
Until I was told that this could be a trait that a few people might find not so bad. Nice even. And then it hit me. I was always so busy trying to be propah and all that jazz that I almost committed the biggest crime ever. Changing into someone else. Shudder in horror.
I want to be me again. I want to listen to music that drives my neighbours insane. I want to wear my ancient sweatshirt with Tom & Jerry on it and eat a tub of ice-cream while watching FRIENDS on tv. I want to yell at people being mean to the waiter at the restaurant.
I want to be who I used to be until I mistakenly thought I needed to change. Now I know I don’t need to do squat. I just need to be happy with who I am. That is not going to happen until I leave things be and stop picking apart my own thoughts, actions and reasoning behind it. I don’t need the reasoning, I don’t need the justification and I sure as hell do not need your approval or validation. So don’t wait around for me to tell you what you can do with it.
This is me. Deal with it. If you want to.
This day has driven me insane and up the wall… not necessarily in that order. But I have a plan that would make an evil genius proud. Let the universe conspire against me. I shall conspire against it. Bwhahahahaaaa. Err ok… so that might be me overdoing it. Oh I don’t care anyway.
I have MPD and one of those people has OCD or so she has told me… many times.
Then again, I used to think these mad bouts of mine were something to hide. Why? Because I was always wondering if it was ok to be a little crazy now and then.
Until I was told that this could be a trait that a few people might find not so bad. Nice even. And then it hit me. I was always so busy trying to be propah and all that jazz that I almost committed the biggest crime ever. Changing into someone else. Shudder in horror.
I want to be me again. I want to listen to music that drives my neighbours insane. I want to wear my ancient sweatshirt with Tom & Jerry on it and eat a tub of ice-cream while watching FRIENDS on tv. I want to yell at people being mean to the waiter at the restaurant.
I want to be who I used to be until I mistakenly thought I needed to change. Now I know I don’t need to do squat. I just need to be happy with who I am. That is not going to happen until I leave things be and stop picking apart my own thoughts, actions and reasoning behind it. I don’t need the reasoning, I don’t need the justification and I sure as hell do not need your approval or validation. So don’t wait around for me to tell you what you can do with it.
This is me. Deal with it. If you want to.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Fallen from Grace...
Having a middle name "Grace" is not particularly helpful when you are trying real hard to be one of the boys (growing up with boys as my closest friends this was something i tried very hard to do). You see... Grace is a very lady-like name… prim, proper and very dignified... not really qualities you can attribute to a tomboy who climbed trees and had a better eye for a catapult than some of the boys she hung out with. Sigh.. But those were the days alright. Of midnight ghost stories and cricket at 5 am… To being allowed to bat as long as you wanted because you were the only girl there... The only one who deigned to play silly boy games? Who didn't run home screaming to mummy when offered a frog (of course i would do that now) and who thought going snake catching was the coolest thing ever. But as bad as this may sound i wasn't the wild child i would have liked to be. I was still held back by some kind of inbred well mannered conscience to actually behave. Well I thought i was behaving… How was I to know that my mother despaired of the little hellion she had borne every time I wandered home with my latest black eye/bruise?
Despite these antics I was always mummy's angel and daddy's little princess… Might I add the only one who could poke him in the eye while he was sleeping saying "Dada.. You cheeping ?" and lived to tell the tale. And six years down the line the hellion to make all previous hellions seem tame in comparison-my baby brother- arrived. I will admit I was quite enamored with the white wrapped bundle my parents had brought home from the hospital. For around 5 minutes… He lost a little of his novelty when I discovered his antics were limited to gurgling happily at my nonsensical stories. After that my new favorite game became “lets see if Kurt can turn blue from screaming (loud enough to wake the dead)” although my mother soon put an end to that. Bah !
But I have to be honest and admit I never realized the brat had it in him. He faithfully carried my banner after I left home and proceeded to drive my family to the depths of despair at his complete lack of regard for anything that got in the way of what he wanted. (on occasion I have heard my mother tell an aunt or somebody “how I wish he wouldn’t be so much like his sister… one hell raiser was enough”) boy was she wrong…
It’s been 21 years now. And I still can’t bring myself to say I am 21 years old. I don’t feel old. Although I might dispute that statement when I am forced to see what the world looks like before noon... let me warn you now. Wake me up when I am meant to be asleep and I will not be held responsible for any kind of fatal damage I might inflict on you.
At the time of this post I am a dignified young lady (gag) who knows how far she can push the envelope without going completely overboard or getting in over her head. All that’s left to say now is adios and till next time.
Despite these antics I was always mummy's angel and daddy's little princess… Might I add the only one who could poke him in the eye while he was sleeping saying "Dada.. You cheeping ?" and lived to tell the tale. And six years down the line the hellion to make all previous hellions seem tame in comparison-my baby brother- arrived. I will admit I was quite enamored with the white wrapped bundle my parents had brought home from the hospital. For around 5 minutes… He lost a little of his novelty when I discovered his antics were limited to gurgling happily at my nonsensical stories. After that my new favorite game became “lets see if Kurt can turn blue from screaming (loud enough to wake the dead)” although my mother soon put an end to that. Bah !
But I have to be honest and admit I never realized the brat had it in him. He faithfully carried my banner after I left home and proceeded to drive my family to the depths of despair at his complete lack of regard for anything that got in the way of what he wanted. (on occasion I have heard my mother tell an aunt or somebody “how I wish he wouldn’t be so much like his sister… one hell raiser was enough”) boy was she wrong…
It’s been 21 years now. And I still can’t bring myself to say I am 21 years old. I don’t feel old. Although I might dispute that statement when I am forced to see what the world looks like before noon... let me warn you now. Wake me up when I am meant to be asleep and I will not be held responsible for any kind of fatal damage I might inflict on you.
At the time of this post I am a dignified young lady (gag) who knows how far she can push the envelope without going completely overboard or getting in over her head. All that’s left to say now is adios and till next time.
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