I have been thinking a lot lately about patterns, of how they breach and break our lives in so systematic a manner that it often goes completely unnoticed: a seismic event in shadows. Patterns are hard to break and I have been having a hard time defining mine of late – having already come to the decision that many need to be broken if I am ever to ‘move forward’. I have been told that ‘existentialist serenity’ and ‘stationary’ simply do not qualify as a direction any more. Yet it appears I am doomed perpetually to function in the reverse, regressive, counter intuitive and confounded.
I have come to the confusion that some statistics do in fact have a point and purpose to them and are not all contrived by portly, balding men so ill treated by mother nature that some latent notion of lingering masculinity compels them to plot her demise – this one, for example - may have a point: Television does indeed kill brain cells, many and mercilessly. I watch a lot of television, which is perhaps the reason why the amount I read (which only just trumps my tube intake) seamlessly filters through an invisible funnel into a gaping oblivion, leaving me to make what I can of the remaining mangled, pseudo intellectual junk and supercilious word residue to pass off as passive intellect. I appear to be quite good at doing this and it has proven to be a lucrative enterprise so far, function as I do on the basis that most people tend to believe any story as long as it is well told and hard enough for them to comprehend.
It appears that my love of literature cannot quench my masochistic yearning to wait with breath baited for romantic sub-plots to unfold in an increasingly un-original manner between passive-aggressive, Will-they-Won’t-they onscreen couples. Cases in point: House/Cuddy, Batman/Wonder Woman, Loralei/Luke, Meredith/Mc Dreamy or even and yes this bypasses humiliation in every manner of the word Seth/Summer on the OC. I am a shipper born and bred by careful and cultivated Tube Time ill spent over decades.
I have come to the confusion that some statistics do in fact have a point and purpose to them and are not all contrived by portly, balding men so ill treated by mother nature that some latent notion of lingering masculinity compels them to plot her demise – this one, for example - may have a point: Television does indeed kill brain cells, many and mercilessly. I watch a lot of television, which is perhaps the reason why the amount I read (which only just trumps my tube intake) seamlessly filters through an invisible funnel into a gaping oblivion, leaving me to make what I can of the remaining mangled, pseudo intellectual junk and supercilious word residue to pass off as passive intellect. I appear to be quite good at doing this and it has proven to be a lucrative enterprise so far, function as I do on the basis that most people tend to believe any story as long as it is well told and hard enough for them to comprehend.
It appears that my love of literature cannot quench my masochistic yearning to wait with breath baited for romantic sub-plots to unfold in an increasingly un-original manner between passive-aggressive, Will-they-Won’t-they onscreen couples. Cases in point: House/Cuddy, Batman/Wonder Woman, Loralei/Luke, Meredith/Mc Dreamy or even and yes this bypasses humiliation in every manner of the word Seth/Summer on the OC. I am a shipper born and bred by careful and cultivated Tube Time ill spent over decades.
Pattern # 1: Status- Remains unbroken.
Another discovery I have made about myself is that I am obsessed with stocking up on unnecessary toiletries. It could well be considered a pet-peeve, purchasing fruit flavoured (I’m very big on ‘organic’ when it concerns anything inedible) groceries plays a considerable part in cultivating my unique blend of oddity. The flavour of toothpaste, moisturizer and random bubblegum flavoured bubble bath and lily flavoured body wash are too important an addition in my plebeian pocket purges, especially considering none of these items are ever put to what mommy dearest calls ‘good use’.
Pattern #2: Status – unbroken, prospects not promising.
I find that I have very carefully cultivated lethargy and sluggishness to an art form. Should I be left to my own devices – completely- I can easily sleep a 32 hour day, wake up for the occasional toilet break, sneak in a favourite song and laze in bed till Kingdom come…implying that Kingdom, would literally having to do just that, make its judgments considering my permanent placement by my bedside and transport me post-waste. Finally beginning to fear that my skin would commence to curdle without my realising it and that office non-work would hardly put pay to that, I have very proudly taken up several rather ambitious endeavours simultaneously: running, gym and re-visited yoga. The past two weeks have had me running in a neighbouring park, wearing a jogging suit, headphones plugged in allowing me a sense of distended self-glorification, figuring myself a healthy woman featured in a Nike commercial out to conquer the world, all until my two rounds are up and my inhaler put to plight. There is something very odd to be said about ‘getting back in shape’ the more one realises one is ‘out of it’ the more the ‘in’ loses appeal. However, considering that my mommies last vestiges of hope and paternal pride rest solely on the depletion rate of my love handles, thighs and posterior…I am willing to undergo this regiment to find ‘happiness’. And you all thought it came from within….HAH!
Pattern # 3: Status: Progress, determination intact, stamina building, optimism dwindling.
I find that my social skills are – much to my utter amazement- experiencing a drastic improvement. I have made a total of three friends this year alone and yes, these are individuals I willingly carry on conversations with. Whereas my past friendships have been woefully limited and relegated between forced family fostering sentimentality (cousins, in case it required clarification) and three friends. My total is now reaching a whopping six, real, in-the-flesh (well, not literally) people, the rest being cyber acquaintances, half of whom Beentherella stalks for her amusement and to keep ‘Circe’ at bay for as long as is possible.
Pattern # 4: Status: Vast improvement. Optimism high, sarcasm functional.
I am not a practical person, this is a theory that has been tested, proven and set in stone since I was placed upon this planet with only my wits and blinding naiveté to save me. However, I am discovering that ‘Money’ is an actual ‘problem’ to be dealt with in life and proposed love. I have yet to manage the latter. But in life, money must be saved, conserved, planned out and programmed. I am ill-suited to manage any of the above- mentioned tasks, however, I have come into some money recently and have managed to control all my inborn impulses that command money not spent as aesthetically unpleasing crumpled paper mache’ and opened a savings account. This has been a hard thing for me to come to terms with. Money, apparently, really does not grow on trees. Right shame, I tell you!
Pattern # 5: Status: Getting there.
My penance for hitting a phantom word quota for each day remains as strong as ever and even though I have been woefully consumed by writers block in the recent past- an affliction which I seldom – if ever- suffer- I am still careful to copy down random words, phrases and quotes from every manner or person. Some of my recent favourites include “If you wish to sacrifice the admiration of many men for the criticism of one, by all means get married”- Katherine Hepburn, “Oye us Dog ko kaho, Ulloo ka patha na banay” – Geo office clerk, “…dark confines of hyper-consciousness and endless spite…” – from ‘The Motorcycle Diaries’, Palimpsests: def. Reflections of history, manuscript of papyrus.
Pattern # 6: Status: Unabashedly preserved, maintained and perfected.
Belief has always been a problem for me. I find it terribly cumbersome having to define what my beliefs are. I however am perfectly aware of what they are not. Oddly enough this brings to mind a passage from the Harry Potter finale, the one where Hermione and Xenophilius Lovegood are having there little tiff and she says “But that’s ridiculous! You could claim that anything’s real if the only basis for believing in it is that nobody’s proved it isn’t?” and he in turn says “Yes, you could”. Admittedly I still largely function on the premise of this philosophy, however, I have discovered that when it comes to- what Stewie in Family Guy beautifully refers to as- “Big Man in the Sky, eh?” , one needs to be a little more definitive, especially in this blasted month of State Sponsored hypocrisy. So I now openly claim to lean heavily towards Agnosticism, believing it to be the safest of all ‘isms’ seeing as it is the most vague and unassuming. I like that.
Belief has always been a problem for me. I find it terribly cumbersome having to define what my beliefs are. I however am perfectly aware of what they are not. Oddly enough this brings to mind a passage from the Harry Potter finale, the one where Hermione and Xenophilius Lovegood are having there little tiff and she says “But that’s ridiculous! You could claim that anything’s real if the only basis for believing in it is that nobody’s proved it isn’t?” and he in turn says “Yes, you could”. Admittedly I still largely function on the premise of this philosophy, however, I have discovered that when it comes to- what Stewie in Family Guy beautifully refers to as- “Big Man in the Sky, eh?” , one needs to be a little more definitive, especially in this blasted month of State Sponsored hypocrisy. So I now openly claim to lean heavily towards Agnosticism, believing it to be the safest of all ‘isms’ seeing as it is the most vague and unassuming. I like that.
Pattern # 7: Status: Blissfully unresolved but conveniently white-washed.
My confounded lack of ambition remains steadfast. It appears that ever since I was seven and decided in earnest on my chosen career path, I somehow assumed that my 30-year-old self would in fact be a published author, dreaming away means to make enough money to backpack the world, meet the man of her dreams (which are a little blotchy on said man’s identity) and be ‘happy’ without effort. The fact that being a ‘published author’ actually means having to ‘publish’ something, had completely escaped her notice and it has taken the rest of me’s the past 16 years to get this particular memo. However, said memo has been received and I am praying to …Whatever…for my sense of envy and bitter, well-concealed resentment at others success and adventures to drum me out of my self-involved swamps to at least do ‘what I do in fact ‘do’’ to the best of my ability. So help me…Whatever!
My confounded lack of ambition remains steadfast. It appears that ever since I was seven and decided in earnest on my chosen career path, I somehow assumed that my 30-year-old self would in fact be a published author, dreaming away means to make enough money to backpack the world, meet the man of her dreams (which are a little blotchy on said man’s identity) and be ‘happy’ without effort. The fact that being a ‘published author’ actually means having to ‘publish’ something, had completely escaped her notice and it has taken the rest of me’s the past 16 years to get this particular memo. However, said memo has been received and I am praying to …Whatever…for my sense of envy and bitter, well-concealed resentment at others success and adventures to drum me out of my self-involved swamps to at least do ‘what I do in fact ‘do’’ to the best of my ability. So help me…Whatever!
Pattern # 8: Status: Slight stirrings. Optimism expected, Doldrums currently at bay.
What does one say of changes: one can embrace them, deny them, fight them or evade them - perched as I perennially am - on the un-decided, I like very much to think that making room for them to occur if they should is the ‘smart thing to do’. Which incidentally, does sound smart.
The time has come
To talk of many things
Of shoes and ships and sealing wax
Of Cabbages and Kings
What does one say of changes: one can embrace them, deny them, fight them or evade them - perched as I perennially am - on the un-decided, I like very much to think that making room for them to occur if they should is the ‘smart thing to do’. Which incidentally, does sound smart.
The time has come
To talk of many things
Of shoes and ships and sealing wax
Of Cabbages and Kings
Welcome to the runners' world. It will take you places.
ReplyDeleteI do love it, even though i need to make sure i dont make eye contact with the many who simply cant help gawking at a girl running in a park.
ReplyDeleteThat is where the iPod comes in handy.