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I have an obsession with knowing people's stories. Life stories, love stories, the happenings, the non-happenings, regrets, reflections. All the boys I date go through an ongoing grilling about what they were thinking or wanting at different moments in the initial fireworks stages. What did they think of me during the first conversation, first kiss? What did they want out of the situation? What did they think would happen later? What did they think of my reactions? It's like putting together a puzzle, fitting their reality with mine. Sometimes it doesn't quite fit - 'OMG I can't believe you thought I didn't like you' being one cliche classic - and the final painting ends up, I'd like to think, like a Matisse painting: bright colours, looks kinda like reality with an endearing quirkiness. It's the process that attracts me as well, you learn so much about a person by the hopes they clung to, the assumptions made, signs read or misread. That's why I invariably stay friends with these boys, the debriefing analysing is fascinating. Even when it all goes wrong, several years later you get to sit down and pull the mess apart, untangle, rewind it into a neater ball. Ideally. 

Had the perfect one night stand, by my definition of it at least. He talked to me for hours, was generally very considerate, made me laugh, an impossibly irreverent sense of humour reminding me of of good friends back home. Entirely non-seedy, only slightly alcoholic. It was spontaneous fun. 

But now I have to let it go, every rational part of me knows it. Saw the danger signs, he's likely to get emotional, its just not going to end well from any point further than this. But it's killing me to not know his story. What was he thinking? What had he wanted out of it? At what point did he realise I might be interested? What convinced him to make a move? Why? Is he also going to look back on it and laugh?

The thought of never knowing makes me ache, just a little. Bittersweet, because in a way the uncertain endings are sometimes just how its meant to be, but at the same time it's sad that I'll never get to see the full painting. I'll carry with me half the colours, half the brush strokes, and that will always look lonely.

Subterfuge

Watched Miss Pettigrew lives for a day, because even though I'm supposed to be cramming my ass off for 48 hours a day, the trailers caught my attention. I love movies that pick you up by the scruff of the neck and place you squarely, sometimes not so gently in another time and completely different world. Two hours of being caught up in an alternate reality with certain rules that ensure a basic degree of emotional safety. By this I mean that you know a romantic comedy will have either a blatant, often unrealistic happy ending or at the very least a neat, hopeful ending. In the middle, there will be tears, confusion and personal chaos. The music will tell you what to feel, and also what is about to happen, another method of preparing you. A sad movie is doomed from the start, and there signposts along the way. This doesn't mean that you don't get attached to the characters or that the plot is boring, just that it is clear a prior investment in tissues is necessary. Also, don't wear contact lenses. 

Anyway, trotted along for my happiness fix, brought down the average age in the theatre by about 60 years and became immersed in a crazy upper class 1930s London. It is not meant to be taken too seriously, its light and mostly fun. The one issue it did bring up however is the games people play. Lies, falsely hinting at things, pretending and then people wonder how it all got so complicated. Why they don't get what they want. Gee, I wonder. When did it all get so complicated?

Don't get me wrong, I find the little harmless mind games on the side lots of fun, but nothing significant even if I wanted to because I'm totally crap at hiding how I feel. Happy - smile, Sad -no smiles/quiet/expressionless/go to sleep. Life is too short for bullshit when it comes to the important stuff. Get a life, seriously. 

As a kid I was anti relationships, the whole finding a boy, getting married, damn picket fence in the mind numbing suburbs. Partly from not having particularly endearing examples of a marriage, partly from believing there is something dodgy about so much of your life depending on someone else; surely it's more about building your own life and person. I still think I'm kinda right, marriage isn't really necessary anymore, and townhouses are great, however, the people in your life make it what it is in many many ways. The boy has a large role, that's inescapable which makes it tempting to turn lesbian sometimes, the best friends and the good friends are all important to making it through with that fun, delicate balance of sanity and insanity. 

So what's with the creating murky waters? If you can't tell the people closest to your life the awkward things that even you wish you didn't know, perhaps that tells you something. Chances are, they'll surprise you. Or you get to filter for weeds.

Maybe I don't wanna hold your hand...

After a little pondering, I've reached the conclusion that there are two types of trust. 

1 - blind faith in the other person

2 - faith in your judgement, the ability to recognise what the person is and is not capable of doing. 

I can think of only two people I'd trust in the first way, and even that is based on the fact that I believe I know them well enough to know they're solid. Gold. Personally, I think the first type on its own is delusional and asking for trouble. 

Information is power. The more you know of someone, history, the choices they've made - under stress, impulsively, when very drunk, when angry, when they just stubbornly wanted something - it all adds up to give a picture of how strong a character the person has. How far they can keep in focus what they really want, and what they have to do to get that while there are all kinds of delicious distractions along the way.

Ooo.. trust + delicious distractions in one sentence, surely this is about relationships and delectably sordid fooling around right? Partly. It's also about people relying on each other in general. With a close friend, you give your self esteem just a little bit. They are privy to information that carries with it some of your pride, your ego. They are put into situations where conflicts of interest arise and it is a prisoner's dilemma. To tell or not to tell? Whose ass to save? Will they safeguard you over their ego? 

Then there is the even more interesting question, can you trust them to recognise when you/your ego needs protecting? In the rush of wanting something, would they be able to step back and realise the cost to you? Or just rush in to get what they want, satisfy their ego and then think 'oops' a few moments too late?  

To trust someone completely because you know you cannot trust him at all, wouldn't that be ironic. 

Life and love with an emotional Pyrrhus

I love debate. Not the organised people in rows talking against the clock stuff, but the real deal the way the old philosophers did it, one on one or small groups, people actually listening to each other, bothering to figure out different points of view, large scale consumption of wine, wit and what in my head I see as a charged atmosphere of intelligent open minded people enjoying expanding their thinking. Yes, granted, some might call that a delusion of an idealist, but I've come across people who would have fit right into that room I see in my mind. 

One person, who is currently making my blood boil and imagination overflow with satisfyingly violent thoughts would've been kicked out of that room, hopefully with a spear up his ass. To be fair, I think everyone has certain blind spots in which they don't want to hear/ are not interested in the other side of the coin. When it comes to female circumcision, I don't care about the culture argument, being a female and painfully aware that with a little shift of fate I could have been born as one of the [probably conservatively] estimated 92 million girls over age 10 in Africa who have had to undergo THIS. I don't care that its tradition, its barbaric, demented and anyone involved should to be shot. In the stomach. With a single cyanide coated bullet. And left to bleed to death. While forced to watch Bold and the Beautiful. Hung, drawn and quartered is also a particular creative genius that would suffice. 

*Exhale* Anyway! Getting back to the point, there are some people who really do only see a world of their own making. It is futile to describe any other picture to them, on par with showing a dog a rainbow [Dogs are colour-blind]. 

C is a normally lovely boy with a good heart, capable of doing the sweetest things. However in an intellectual debate or a crunch time situation involving emotions, he's just a dog in his little black and white world. What frustrates me the most is that by no means is he one of the stereotyped boys who are emotionally ignorant. Oh no, on the contrary he can go on for literally hours [having been at the receiving end of these self-pitying rants, I wish that was an exaggeration] with excruciating detail into carefully thought out complex arguments as to why he has been hard done by and betrayed as he 'always' is, oh poor him that believed in and opened his vulnerable heart to cruel human kind.. etc etc ad nauseam, oh Zeus please thunderbolt me now!

On an intellectual level its fascinating to observe how it happens. Conversations with him resemble laps round a Nascar circuit, it doesn't matter about the possibilities out there, he wants to be 'right' and will take whatever it takes, including building walls and a stadium to make sure that its just not possible to go anywhere near an exciting rally track with forests and dirt roads and unexpected twists. Which is what a proper debate should be like. He will do, literally whatever it takes, including subtle self esteem manipulation to keep you going round and round in the same circle. So he's always right. Usually because logic is screwed but delivery it so forceful, its not worth the fight. A Pyrrhic victory. As a result, so many interesting ideas, potentially mind-blowing angles of thought are slammed out of his life. And even that one can say is fair enough, after all he can probably live quite happily without being willing to listen to TRY understanding why war crimes tribunals are important *cringe*. I personally cant handle that, it made me cry, but oh well.

It's when this mindset, a concretely set mind spills over into emotional situations that things get messy. When you have a rigid image of what you want from other people, when there are expectations of the way people should be that leave no room for who they actually are, and what they want from their life or how they do things, the conditions are set for cyclones to be a brewing.

Intentions or reasons behind actions suddenly have no value, unless of course they are his intentions and actions. Thats a scary world to live in, with the human element in a sense is amputated, removed with the cold, sterile slice of a self indulgent surgeon's blade and only the actual deed, the dead limb is left. Misunderstanding, mistake, accident, unintentional are now words without meaning because they involve comprehending at an emotional level the other person's actions. To be honest, that would be okay if he applied the same rules to himself, or even SAW what he was doing, but of course, no. 

One particularly reflective friend once made the observation that when someone is overly sensitive, it invariably results in insensitivity toward other people, because it is very difficult to get over being wrapped up in how you feel, and see someone else's hurt or intentions.

Sometimes, it doesn't matter that you didn't get what you wanted/expected/hoped for from the person. Sometimes, it is more important that your friend is in a shit situation, making mistakes, slipping on a learning curve and needs your support. 

SS - This post is for you. You need what you need, don't ever let someone else guilt you away from reality. Love love love. 

Just three miles from the rest stop, she slams on the breaks

That flash of piercing clarity where you realise, from the depths of your gut, that this is not where you want to be. Its not a logical conclusion derived after analysis, or a calculated decision after weighing up pros and cons, but a quiet sort of 'right, I'm not putting up with this rubbish anymore' which has a powerful, contained resolve.

You may have been rationally analysing along those lines for months or been miserable for ages or perhaps a quiet feeling had been sneaking up unawares for some time, but what I'm talking about is that final spark which breaks the connection keeping you in a certain place, whether it is in a relationship, a job or just waking up to what a quagmire your comfort zone has become. Rob Thomas sums it up beautifully:

She said - while you were sleeping
I was listening to the radio
And wondering what you're dreaming when
It came to mind that I didn't care

- Rest Stop by Matchbox Twenty

Somehow those last two lines capture how things just click into place in a quiet, often completely random moment.  It doesn't necessarily hail the end of self doubt at that twitching hour of 3am [MB20 again!], just that its easier to rationalise the brain back to sleep. You've passed that point where what you want, generally in my case, sanity, slips higher on the priority list overtaking whatever was creating drama.

I've always felt that 'vibrant' is too strongly complimentary an adjective to use on a person. Until I met my ex-boss. She is the most intensely alive person I've met to date. I'm going to quit while ahead and leave readers to use their imagination rather than try to describe her. Lets just say no one who met her, no matter how briefly, could ever forget her, customers were guaranteed to be walking away with a smile on their faces. She's just one of those.

She had been working at her job for over 20 years, longer than I've been alive! She's always loved it, her first job which she assumed would be her only one. We joked that she had roots entwined in the foundations of the place and she could never leave because the place would fall apart, and spirit wise it was so very true. In the last couple of years however, change of management etc etc, it became insanely, unfairly and more annoying, unneccesarily stressful for her and people kept telling her she deserved better and should leave but she couldnt. There was a massive emotional investment: her husband worked there, the team was like family, she had known all the regular customers and retailers for years. She fell ill constantly, was permanently stressed out for about two years before she reached that 'rest stop moment', a tipping point, where everything fell into place and she was able to break out of the unhealthy situation within her comfort zone and move on without looking back.

Non-mutual breakups are so messy and painful because one person has reached that moment but the other is yet to get there. And that sucks, as you can't force an epiphany. It's one of those irritating mental switches that you can lean over and juuust brush with your fingers, unable to get enough of a grasp to flip it at will. 

Just three miles from the rest stop
And she slams on the breaks
She said I tried to be but I'm not
And could you please collect your things
I don't wanna be cold
I don't wanna be cruel
But I gotta find more
Than what's happening with you
If you'd open up the door...

Reality leaves a lot to the imgination*

Italian Job 2 has such sexy moments. [Spoiler alert. If you haven't watched it yet: what was the weather like on that middle star of Orion's belt?]. Stella's introductory scene where she drives a Mini through London traffic captured my heart wholesale. At some point in my life I will own/rent/borrow/run off with/hug and refuse to let go of one of those. Don't care that they are overpriced. It's absolutely the perfect city car if one is gutsy enough to drive suicidally like she does, couldn't find a youtube clip *gasp!*

Anyway! One of the things that got the drowsy brain buzzing was the villain's Achilles heel - a lack of imagination. Specifically how this was expressed through his inability to spend the kazillion million dollars he stole. It is quite a common question, the 'if you won a million dollars/ had three wishes/ could rule the world etc what would you do?' line. Good for random conversations with possibly dodgy people on buses. If you think about it though, how many entirely unique responses have you heard to that?

The conversation early on in the movie, where they each describe what they intend to spend their share of the money on is interesting because it manages, in just a couple of minutes, to sketch a reasonably vivid image of each person's personality. Handsome Rob's drool-worthy Aston Martin is a player's car; a pantie dropping, super cool adrenaline rush. The geek speak with which Napster describes his sound system immediately assigns him the nerdy techie's place in the team, and Left Ear is for sure the cultural one with his beautiful Spanish villa and leather bound first editions, etc etc. All done in just a few cleverly picked phrases from each of the characters.

Steve Frazelli [baddie] couldn't come up with even one thing that he wanted, he borrowed off everyone else. It is roll on the ground hilarious when they realise he has very literally bought their ideas. The catch though, is that he can't possibly enjoy the spoils because they aren't 'his'. The kick-ass tv, stereo, car, house, library have nothing to do with his personality or tastes. It's like the joke about the art dealer who sold a white canvas to a multi-millionaire, assuring him that this was the newest art movement. Luxury is an experience, and therefore entirely relative. Ferrero Rochers, enjoyed infrequently, would be absolute heaven regardless of whether I'm driving a Rolls or living in a leech infested ditch. He is admittedly a one sided character, for storyline convenience, but that aside, he hasn't figured out what is uniquely extra special for him, which is not scarily not uncommon in real life!

Right now, I don't quite know what I would do with a few million dollars. There are the obvious ones I'd want to do like travel all over the world, enjoy all those currently light years outside budget experiences like cruise around the world first class, sky dive, learn to fly and then buy a plane, a boat, eat in funky, ridiculously expensive restaurants, buy into a formula one team, watch a kazillion plays and concerts, build up a massive library and art collection and generally run riot with all my friends.

There isn't any focus to all that though. It's to do with not having an overwhelming passion for any one thing in particular. Having strong opinions and an interest in a variety of things is not quite the same. Those people who have found that Something [with a capital] they cannot live without, I envy them. I like music, but don't turn pale or feel ill at the thought of a couple of months without it, unlike probably Confab and RD. Ditto with any other interest except perhaps to a certain extent human rights related things and psychoanalysing everything. Right now, if my bank account balance unexpectedly grew several extra zeros [before the decimal point], I'd probably invest it so that until I finally do figure out what I want to spend it on, it'll be sitting there, getting fatter. To be fair, I reckon its also an age and experience thing, this knowing what you want.

So what would you do with say, 10 million dollars. It sounds like a lot, but it actually isn't that much. What would you spend it on?

* John Lennon