“One should not be afraid of dying but afraid of not living”
~wakarima (I maketh quotes too
Teach me how to live
Show me how to achieve life
Make me live
I want to know what it is, life
Sometimes I wonder what measures a life well lived. How do you even measure life? How do you know you have lived? Who knows what life is. I hate it when my mind decides to ask itself such questions.
Satisfaction, how is it achieved? Orgasm, stupid grin, leaps of joy?
Life, other than the breathing, what else is there to it?
I wake up every day and plan, span my life, and say I want to do this, go there, achieve this and so on, but then have I lived?
I walk and I look around me, I see trees, I see animals, I see insects going about their life, just as I am.
I meet people, talk to people, teach people and I see them looking up at me for answers, I do not know.
I sit alone and I wonder what I am doing, I think perhaps in death there is life, perhaps there is a second chance, perhaps I will forever live.
so, you may work hard, get money, go places, the sort of things people associate with ‘arriving” but in the end you are like that lazy person, who is poor, only went to the toilet and is considered a failure in society. You both live.
It is not about how many times you have had sex, it is not how many people you have been with, it is not about the places you have been, it is not the car you drive, it is not where you go to pee.
It is the surge of the heart, the tug of emotion, the overwhelming tears when you think of someone.
It is the ray of hope and smile that cracks at the side of your lips because there is a better tomorrow.
It is the belief you have that it will all be well
It is the light heartedness you feel after you walk out of a room without having imbibed
It is the comfort of your pillow when you sleep alone
It is the pull you get when you see someone having it rougher than you
It is stopping to think about what the other person feels
It is being moved by the world
It is the power you yield for the better of those without
It is giving when you have nothing left
It is hurting so that you do not hurt another person
It is discomfort so that someone may lay in comfort
It is feeling
But, this is not all.
Sometimes people tell me I do not live, as I should. Perhaps that is why I sometimes have a nagging hollow feeling in me that I am not living. Breathe, as I shall, live, as I am not. I do not know how else to live. I wanna know what living is.
life is not about finding yourself, it is about creating yourself
so, here goes,
7 things about me
- I am not one to talk a lot about myself, which makes it very hard for me to say 6 more things about myself.
- I am lazy lazy lazy to the end, it’s now almost 3pm, I have not showered, no breakfast, I have no plans to go anywhere, the only thing I have done is watch Chuck.
- I live a day a time, I am not a hurried person when it comes to making decisions and doing things (refer to 2 above)
- I trust people foolishly. I believe that even though there are bad people, they will not hurt me, oh how wrong!
- I love sweets, cakes and all things sweet, if you wanna get to me, give me sugar.
- I love to revenge, tit for tat is a fair game I believe
- Sometimes I can be very boring.
Sometime before I was not the emotional person, I am today. I felt nothing for people and I only interacted with them in school. My mother was my friend, company, gossip, everything, not healthy when I think about it now. However, I have never been one to express myself, I thought I had no feelings, up to today I think I am asexual, but that is beside the point.
I am bothered by my social awkwardness. Because of social media, and phones, I am exposed to how people are living, interacting and so on, and that has messed up my balance of life. I was never one to tell people I miss them, how do you miss someone; I never told people I missed them, and when I did it was because I felt pressure to, I did not mean it.
I never was someone to throw terms of endearment around; words like sweetie, honey, love and the like always were hard to say. I never got it why other girls kept calling my boyfriend that, I always got livid, because you just do not call someone’ boyfriend that, it has to mean something. I rarely said it, and when I did my throat always tightened. Do not even ask about telling people I love them.
I have seen many beautiful girls, most of my girlfriends look damn good, but I never tell them that they do. However, I am told, and I feel like I should tell them something, so I smile and I tell them they are pretty too, but I am always uncomfortable saying it.
I am thankful for many things, I am always thankful when someone gives, or buys me something, takes me somewhere but somehow I always forget to say thank you. When is the right time to say thank you. Immediately? After putting your fork down? After downing the glass of whatever? When you are leaving? Soon as they order? When they present the gift? I have a problem; I never know when to say it. And I keep saying, I will tell them, always looking for an opportunity to say it and this always ends up with us leaving, or worse them saying it before me: if it was a date, and then I feel terrible because I can’t say it after they have, I’d be copying them, sigh!
I do not know what is wrong with me; I do not think am a loner, but a social animal who is reserved. I wish I had many friends but I have trouble not making them but keeping them because you see, I have to call them, text, tweet every now and then and it’s a little overwhelming and expensive if I may say. However, people think am ignoring them or I do not like them or just something terrible, but thing is we are still where we left off; at least in my mind we are.
My ideal weekend is with people doing what normal twenty year olds do, but I almost always find myself in bed, not that I never get asked but I think it’s just too much work, getting dressed up, pleasing people, polite conversations and what not. I do not like to conform and somehow I think my choice of conversation topics is wanting. What I think are jokes fall flat and end up with people looking at me weirdly and when I just say something I do not think is much I have to pick their reeling asses from the floor, not literally but c’mon I have to toot my horn.
I have some dark thoughts too, disturbing ones, men! They give me goose bumps too. I think I over think, this coming from someone who just does things on a whim. I don’t even know how I exist, on both extremes, maybe am not the only one?
PS: to my friends reading this, I do miss you when I say I do.
I blog. Therefore I am. In as much as it is admissible to say that people who blog or do I say write a lot have a “thing”, i’ll call it specialness in them, it is a very hard thing to do. They say writing is an art; therefore blogging by extension is a knack, so that means am an artist, right[J1] ?
But lately, and more recently I have this feeling that am not living up to the bar of writing, that am letting this art go to the dogs. Granted am not alone and maybe just maybe, it is because am no longer in the bleak place I was sometime, very long ago when I started writing, a time when it was absolutely dark and all I could do was put pen to paper and note down some more.
It is not writers block, nor is it lack of blog mojo, I do not know what it is. I have the idea to collect my things and up and leave, but am too attached. Am not getting what I hanker after from this blog, and I feel like am in a relationship where I want to leave but boyfriend is always finding raison d’être (reason) for me to hang about or am just not too fervent to leave, which is a penitent thing because we must always realize when it is time to take a sabbatical.
I read a lot of blogs, plenty, I have rss feed-ed to tens of them and on occasion some of them make me feel like a fetus, downbeat. These people have a huge following, I do not know if I have more than a couple, at least I know a couple who read, and they do not comment, I love remarks, observations and criticism, it tells me you actually read, and it makes me feel very proud of myself and can really go a long way to make me happy and my days.
I do not know what I am talking about right now; it is too much blandness that has caught up with me. Maybe I should get a new exciting, thrilling, electrifying existence where I can tell you about the goofs, the parties, painting the town reds, the whoop ups, the happenings, the downright immoral that I have been up to, crazy people I meet, outlandish stories from hell and what I chomped last night, got wasted on some illegal drugs and booze[J2] and how today am going to poop a big one, my eróticamente (Spanish for sexual, sensual) life. Scoops like those are snapped up a lot, stories about yourself, they make people amused and they lol especially if you talk about something unintelligent you did, or how someone did you wrong, or how your girl/boyfriend is just a plain asshole, or how you met this guy who is a total tool, or how you have this dense friend…
But then I write of dark comings and goings, and gloomy, sinister twists, and incomprehensible things which someone for lack of a better adjective called them deep, whimsical, thought provoking, and utter crap, while people prefer a light hearted mix, comical fibs and gags to their already difficult and arduous lives. That is why gossip sites have the most traffic as people tattletale on nothings.
So what am I saying? I do not know!
I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they are right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together. ~Marilyn Monroe
[J1]Is this a rhetorical question?
[J2]That Mututho bill is just full of crap!
new year new things.
this year, i no longer want to be stuck on the things i did in the past, i am not hanging out at all the places i used to hang out at, i no longer am friends with all the people i was friends with, i no longer think how i was thinking yesterday, am not the same person today or yesterday or tomorrow and as much as i may be static, am as dynamic as possible and this year i think the first thing I’ll do is hang up my boots on this blog, it has been great having you around but my life has changed and this is no longer my chosen venue to address my rants, raves or raging thoughts, but maybe i will return, some day, but today, am leaving.
so, figuring out a guy, how gals have wanted to do that, and here today i have one way, the feet, you all know that notion about how a guy’s feet can tell his… well, they can tell more, read on
If the foot declines evenly from the big toe to small one, it means someone is pedantic – which is, like for doing things in the right order and hates being interrupted
Square tips not rounded means the guy says exactly what he thinks bluntly
Flat feet mean a guy is sociable and hates being alone; while the higher the arch the more independent he is
The smaller the nail on the bigger toe, the easier is a guy to be persuaded, the bigger the toe nail (big toe) the more stubborn he is
If the second toe is narrow at the base and widens at the tip, he is a drama queen, king? They are the exaggerators, but if annoyed he’ll roar like a lion and it’ll blow away quickly. If the second toe is shorter than the rest, you may as well be dealing with a slab of concrete for all the emotion he shows
If you can wiggle your little toe it means one loves adventure and stimulation, and if not it means one loves routine and thrives on it
A bulbous second toe means a guy can be over emotional
If the small toe does not touch the ground, the guy is a worrier
Close fourth and fifth toes mean a guy can be loyal and reliable, but can also be possessive and loves himself a lot of attention from women
there you go, examine your man’s feet today