I’ve been right in the middle of so many things lately – its funny how I am even managing to keep all things in the air, juggling like that. But I don’t feel hassled at all. I am taking things at my pace, going at the speed I want. So, strangely, I don’t feel rushed or pressured at all.
I am right in the middle of getting my first round of feedback for one section of my Tarot book. These are mostly from my students who will (I hope) try out the system I’ve come up with in the book, and give me their honest feedback.
Once I have that, I can move on to the editing stage, and get my book draft ready for the second round. I don’t want to reveal what that will be as of yet, but yes, there are many things that I’ve got on my mind with this baby of mine.
While all this is going on, I turn to my guilty pleasure for comfort – the combo of Netflix and DramaFever has my heart and soul. And yes, so do many other Sci-Fi shows on TV. But nothing gets romance like the Korean Dramas that I’m hooked on to. No seriously. I am in love with them.
There are many reasons why I like Korean Dramas actually. But the only reasons that make any sense on any level is the fact that these serials actually have a sensible story for the most part, and the fact that they do romance like no other. Despite their awkward, deer-in-the-headlights kissing scenes, the whole thing is just too good for words.
At this point, I suppose I must confess, (I mean, that is one of the reasons why I’m writing this blog post), that I am, and I always was, and I shall always remain a romantic at heart. I’ve devoured romance in many forms – books, movies, and now K-Dramas.
But you know the sad part – I’ve never experienced any of it in my own real life. Now, don’t go pitying me. It’s not a sad thing. It’s rather unfortunate, actually. The world is that much sadder because an insanely romantic person like me went unappreciated by the pathetic men in her life.
In my entire life, I’ve chased after men that were too weak-willed to pursue me and win. I’ve been Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt, and I’ve gone after the men I’ve wanted and I’ve had them – bagged and tagged – simply because I could. But once I had them, honestly, I’ve lost interest in them. The thrill of the chase was over. And they weren’t all that fun in the sack either.
The only reason I remained in those relationships was because of some random emotional attachments. Really. I should’ve known better.
I tried to be all nice, and loving, and compassionate, and well, humane. When all I needed to be was shallow.
I freely admit that I am a very bad judge of character. Even if I know their patterns down pat, I am just very hopeless when it comes to being shallow to these people.
If I had to put many of these scenes in a K-Drama perspective, I would describe my relationships like this: the second girlfriend who loses out to the affection that the guy has for the first girlfriend.
For some reason, those idiotic men could be romantic with her, but never with me. This always saddened me. I could’ve appreciated their romance so much better than her anyway. Besides I’m definitely the better kisser. That, is a fact. But men have been known far and wide for their inherent stupidity when it comes to loving women. That too, is a fact.
Recently though, I found myself in a different sort of a cliché. A far cry from being the second girlfriend, I became the first girlfriend who returns as soon as the guy finds the second girlfriend. Of course, I was bound to lose this one too! What was I thinking! LOL
When it comes to relationships I’ve always been the loser. I’ve always given more. I’ve always understood them. I’ve always been kinder, nicer. But you know what? That was just me trying to please. That was me trying to put aside the thought that I was somehow shortchanged.
I should have stayed shallower. I should never have let my hopes for romance blind me to the reality that was staring at me in the face. I always chose blinded by pity. I’ve never really met a man who fit in with or was close enough to be my ideal. I always settled for less because I wanted to be kind.
At some point in your life, your daddy tells you to stop expecting too much, and to settle for something less because that’s what you’re worth. And you end up buying that concept so well that the rest of your life is colored by it.
But I’ve started to walk away from such thoughts. Nowadays I have started to allow myself to be a little more shallow. If I don’t feel the emotion, I don’t pretend to have it. Even if that means I look a little less compassionate, or a little less nice, I don’t mind.
Nowadays, whenever I see my face in the mirror, I’ve even noticed a strange sort of glow in my eyes. Something has started to feel that much right inside of me. I have even started to like myself a little bit more. I’ve started to smile at myself and laugh at the inside jokes. I’ve acknowledged the voice inside my head, and I respect it. I listen to the opinions, and take the advice that comes through.
Isn’t it strange? I’m simply just being myself.
Not being nice when I dont want to be nice is actually working out for me.
Seeing my situations as stories has helped me see a different sort of a resolution for myself. And no, I am not going to reveal the end of this story just yet. So don’t even bother asking.
And you know the best part – I’ve finally managed to quit smoking. No nicotine gum. No nicotine patch. None of that. Its been a month or more I think – I’ve lost count actually. I haven’t smoked.
It’s not like I haven’t had the urge to smoke. I have that off and on. In fact, there are times when I really miss it.
Right about this time of the year is when the weather outside is the best. It’s not too boiling hot yet, and it’s not cold either. This is the best time to plonk down on one of the chairs in the porch with my iPad and a glass of cold, iced tea and read a book or two while smoking my cigarette and listening to music on my iPod.
But then here I am. Doing all of that except for the smoking part. Isn’t that weird? It feels weird for me. Even being able to smell the scent of my shampoo in my hair two days after washing them feels weird for me.
You know what though… I hate telling people that I’ve quit. If they notice then that’s fine. But I hate telling them that I quit.
Because they get all sanctimonious and start praising me for the wise decision I took. They start talking about the health benefits from quitting and I instantly want to do two things: slap them silly, and walk away.
Because I didn’t quit for health reasons. Also I didn’t quit so that they could praise me. I most certainly didn’t quit smoking for the sake of other people. I quit it for my sake. Me. That was the only reason. And no, it had nothing to do with my health.
And, I still love smoking. I miss it terribly. I miss how it made me feel. I miss every single thing about it.
Back then, when I was smoking all the time, I had two reasons for keeping up with it. One was that I loved it to bits. Seriously. And the second was that I didn’t quite care if it took a few years off of my life. I mean, I’ve spent all this time wondering what the big deal was about living anyway. Truly. Apart from the brief time when I was genuinely suicidal, I’ve always wondered what the big deal was about any way. One day, all of us are going to die. Some sooner. Some later. I only wondered what the point of prolonging this inevitable scenario would be anyway.
But now, something inside of me has changed.
I’ve started to see things in a different context. Like a story or something. I’ve started to focus on myself. I’ve grown ok with being seen as shallow sometimes. I’ve grown to like being perceived as self-centered as well. I’ve started to say the things I mean, rather than saying the things that I ought to say – even if the things I end up saying are mean and sometimes hurtful, I say them.
I’ve stopped wanting to please people. I’ve stopped expecting romance to happen in my relationships / dates. I’ve stopped trying to push myself into portraying or feeling emotions that I am supposed to feel. Rather, I just express what I am feeling right now, and if people don’t like it, well… Not my problem.
I’ve found a reason why I ought to live – even if it is a little bit more time than what I am supposed to have in this lifetime. I’ve found a reason to want to be around for a bit more time. And no, I’m not sharing the reason. It took me 38 years to finally figure it out.
Everyone has their own reason and own path. As long as I found mine, its good for me. And its nobody else’s business.
The more I let go of trying to be a certain way, and the more I remain true to the voice in my head, I smile more. I laugh much easily. I genuinely see humor in the ridiculous people around me. I get frustrated with stupid and walk away more often. I don’t bother with being nice. I don’t even bother with trying to explain to people how stupid they are.
I was tested with an IQ of over 140 when I was in school. All of my life, I’ve tried to live as if my IQ was 100 or thereabouts – simply because I didn’t want other people to feel uncomfortable around me. I didn’t want people to feel stupid around me. Of course, that didn’t stop them from actually being stupid – which is even more pathetic.
In any case, now I don’t give a rats ass.
This is me. I am smart. I am also quite shallow. I am also a romantic. I’ve quit smoking, but I love cigarettes. I love walking in Nature, but I absolutely don’t do Nature Hikes and all that crapping in the jungle business. On the topic of crapping – I like to keep the door of the loo open when I take a dump because I’m a bit claustrophobic. The first thing in the morning, I read my emails on my iPad as I take said dump. I’m slowly developing a strange appreciation for coffee. I don’t like to grow my nails because I can’t type as fast as my thoughts go with nails that are even 2 mm longer than my finger. I actually understand money much more than most thanks to my Masters Degree in Economics. But I am not motivated by money at all. As long as something is fun, I don’t mind spending days doing it. But when it stops being fun, I don’t even turn around to look at it any more. I don’t lie. And I dislike liars. In my view liars only end up lying to themselves in the end, and I can’t stand to be around self-deceiving people like that. I am commitment phobic. But strangely, the only commitment that I’ve managed to keep is the one to myself. I still, occasionally, listen to Yanni on my iPod. I think I am going to take the American Citizenship in a few years even though I am eligible even today – cutting off my connection with my country is actually something deep for me. I was quite surprised by my patriotic feelings. I hate politics. I hate politicians. I think democracy is dead, and the only reason it is still around today is because there isn’t anything else that can replace it, and because no other system does such a fantastic job of fooling the citizens into thinking that they have the actual power. I genuinely think that if women were to take over the world, wars wouldn’t really end – they would actually get more vicious than what they are now. I also think that because women are capable of bringing life into this world, they can also be the most hard-hearted, vicious killers. I also think that just because you have a uterus doesn’t mean you have to use it – everyone has a brain, but they don’t use it either, so people should stop making women feel useless if they choose not to have kids.
I know, I know – TMI. But deal with it. This post isn’t titled “Confessions” for fun, you know.
The point is, I am discovering my real self as I let go of wanting to adhere to some random rules that were probably thrust upon me somewhere along the way. I have started disallowing stupid in and around my vicinity. And I’m owning to things that truly matter to me.
I’m basically just being me. And if you don’t like it, well, bye. And if you do like it – stick around. And if you want to ask me out, well, I like roses and champagne and walking hand-in-hand on the deserted main street after a late night movie and snack. Y’know. Just sayin’.