(title borrowed from thomas gray)These last few days, I have been in a state that I hardly recognize myself when I look in the mirror. The woman I see is tired of everything, but she seems to deliberately inflict it upon herself, because really, stress is just a state of mind, and it's nothing like a good dose of sex or movies and shopping can't cure----or better yet, drowning in a sea of cuervo, or walking naked in public. Imagine how that would be like, a nanosecond of adrenaline rush, and voila! adios to self-recriminations...
But seriously, I have no inclination to do any of the above, save perhaps for some ocassional carnal remedy, which I am not really prone to gloss over any further in my blog. And so I blame myself solely in the process. I know that people around me think I am a little difficult to deal with, although often mellow and proper. But I am a self-declared loner, and I give no horseshit to anyone, so sometimes it's a feeling of me and me, against the world. That spark of hostility is almost always latent, but I can sometimes sense how they frown upon my being an oddball. But being who I am, I guess that they would not have seen it otherwise.
But seriously, I have no inclination to do any of the above, save perhaps for some ocassional carnal remedy, which I am not really prone to gloss over any further in my blog. And so I blame myself solely in the process. I know that people around me think I am a little difficult to deal with, although often mellow and proper. But I am a self-declared loner, and I give no horseshit to anyone, so sometimes it's a feeling of me and me, against the world. That spark of hostility is almost always latent, but I can sometimes sense how they frown upon my being an oddball. But being who I am, I guess that they would not have seen it otherwise.
I mean motherhood and marriage and all, puts you in the mainstream. There are certain mores and expectations you have to flow with. You are doomed to wear that mask all your life, and it's your choice so no one else can be faulted on it. But inside you, deep where your soul is, not as a mother or wife or officemate, or neighbor, just the person you are--you want to be hip or cool or crazy or renegade or wanton---but you can't bring about the audacity to show it to anyone, not at this stage of your life, and in scenarios you create to realize your secret dreams. Suffice it to say that eventhough there are many people outside your circle who claim to empathize, or psychoanalyze your every move, not all of them are wont to understand you or NOT judge you. Society dictates that we fit a certain mold, and try we must if we want to have a quiet, albeit boring semetertian, life. Lest you wish to be called childish or irresponsible. In the face of all these, you just got to have faith in the fact that behind your back, yourself is as true to you as you are to her.
My life in this age, it gravitates me to do what is good and beneficial. But in spite of the unrealistically high and questionable lengths I sometimes go through to become a perfect stepford spouse, I detest being goody two-shoes and proper. What is it that I really want? I think most of us unwittingly go through life trying to ignore our true calling or at least that which will make us happy. We sacrifice our characters, and even kill our souls for what is perceived to be a more noble and meaningful cause. We equate being a docile wife, and having healthy children and comfortable lives with satisfaction. And yet, there's a diminutive lot of us, the madding crowd, who aren't even half as happy, and think we can only find our sense of belonging in the dank compartments of our minds, which are by the way, already festered with our own psychotic maggots.
Why can't we be like the rest of them, outside and more so inside? How does one go back in time when only your selfish ideas mattered? I wish it were that simple, like clicking the Undo button. But hey, whoever said life is bunchful of lollies to loll with....And so, sometimes I am convinced that tagore or gibran are a bunch of liars with a lot of senseless shit to say and it's about time I embrace the pessism of a schopenhauer. At least when you don't expect, you don't get disappointed.
