ideals
So I tell you, don't worry about everyday life - whether you have enough food, drink and clothes. Doesn't life consist of more than food and clothing? (Matthew 6:25)
Years ago my Mum pilfered some oversized framed photos from her workplace. They were the annual winners of an amateur photography competition, mostly wrought iron buildings at sunset and poppies in situ. One was different, she gave it to me and I immediately loved it. The picture depicts two people standing together looking at dawn breaking over the sea. The only colour is a pale glow from between the clouds and reflected on the water, while the couple stand in silhouette in the foreground. Their pose is ambiguous: they could be friends or lovers.
They represent how I see my close friendships and also my relationship hopes. Sometimes I look at them and wonder about their friendship, or their hopes. For me they are both projection and metaphor. Unlike living breathing family and friends, theirs is the relationship I aspire to.
People tell me I'm odd, strange, even mentally deranged (in a good way). Occasionally I don't see it, usually on the heels of trying so hard to blend in, but I'm not stupid and I recognise that I will do or say things that others don't. Ergo 'strange'.
I think that in a similar way my ideals of what a relationship should be are 'strange'. At the very least they are not the relationships my friends inhabit, nor they ones they revere in films and televison programmes. There's a song out at the moment, Chasing Cars; it's over-played, which doesn't help, but it reflects some of my ideals. I think too much, I talk too much and I "love" a lot of things in life. I want someone who would lie with me without thinking, without needing to express feelings, without needing to say the cliches of love and committment that pervade every facet of pop culture...
There's someone I like. I am intrigued by him. I don't know him very well and I feel like a pillock in his vicinity (a cliche in itself!). He seems to be funny, I would like to think he has a great personality and he's got nice eyes. All slightly irrelevant if you can't get past the initial hello. More importantly I can imagine being able to be silent in his company; not a silence caused by lack of conversation but rather its excess. I can envisage being allowed to be different, saying things that avoid cliche and explore what's new and different. I could imagine being the girl in my photo, leaning on his shoulder.
It's all so tragic: the girl sitting at her computer dreaming of her Mr Right. If I were 3 stone heavier it would make a great film, provided I got off my fat arse to the local gym and showed him that an eloquent personality can look good in a thong.
This is why I would fuck any cute guy willing to give me the time of day: because every average girl has an ugly girl inside her saying "Take what you can." Maybe it wouldn't make sense to people who know me, or maybe it would. Truth is, when you can't talk honestly to the people you want to, you find a deceitful truth in the people you will eventually want to avoid.
Don't expect a happy ending. I still haven't been able to get past the initial hello and I probably never will. It's not his fault. My own insecurities are definitely not his fault. However, when you're the girl standing at the side (or even centre) of the room, desperately hoping that he will ignore all the superficial issues for a chance of one dance, one moment where you do not feel stupid or ugly or, worst of all, as if you need to impress him beyond all others like the prize pig at a county fair, it becomes his fault. Ergo 'all men are bastards'.
It makes the resulting sting less acute.
Years ago my Mum pilfered some oversized framed photos from her workplace. They were the annual winners of an amateur photography competition, mostly wrought iron buildings at sunset and poppies in situ. One was different, she gave it to me and I immediately loved it. The picture depicts two people standing together looking at dawn breaking over the sea. The only colour is a pale glow from between the clouds and reflected on the water, while the couple stand in silhouette in the foreground. Their pose is ambiguous: they could be friends or lovers.
They represent how I see my close friendships and also my relationship hopes. Sometimes I look at them and wonder about their friendship, or their hopes. For me they are both projection and metaphor. Unlike living breathing family and friends, theirs is the relationship I aspire to.
People tell me I'm odd, strange, even mentally deranged (in a good way). Occasionally I don't see it, usually on the heels of trying so hard to blend in, but I'm not stupid and I recognise that I will do or say things that others don't. Ergo 'strange'.
I think that in a similar way my ideals of what a relationship should be are 'strange'. At the very least they are not the relationships my friends inhabit, nor they ones they revere in films and televison programmes. There's a song out at the moment, Chasing Cars; it's over-played, which doesn't help, but it reflects some of my ideals. I think too much, I talk too much and I "love" a lot of things in life. I want someone who would lie with me without thinking, without needing to express feelings, without needing to say the cliches of love and committment that pervade every facet of pop culture...
There's someone I like. I am intrigued by him. I don't know him very well and I feel like a pillock in his vicinity (a cliche in itself!). He seems to be funny, I would like to think he has a great personality and he's got nice eyes. All slightly irrelevant if you can't get past the initial hello. More importantly I can imagine being able to be silent in his company; not a silence caused by lack of conversation but rather its excess. I can envisage being allowed to be different, saying things that avoid cliche and explore what's new and different. I could imagine being the girl in my photo, leaning on his shoulder.
It's all so tragic: the girl sitting at her computer dreaming of her Mr Right. If I were 3 stone heavier it would make a great film, provided I got off my fat arse to the local gym and showed him that an eloquent personality can look good in a thong.
This is why I would fuck any cute guy willing to give me the time of day: because every average girl has an ugly girl inside her saying "Take what you can." Maybe it wouldn't make sense to people who know me, or maybe it would. Truth is, when you can't talk honestly to the people you want to, you find a deceitful truth in the people you will eventually want to avoid.
Don't expect a happy ending. I still haven't been able to get past the initial hello and I probably never will. It's not his fault. My own insecurities are definitely not his fault. However, when you're the girl standing at the side (or even centre) of the room, desperately hoping that he will ignore all the superficial issues for a chance of one dance, one moment where you do not feel stupid or ugly or, worst of all, as if you need to impress him beyond all others like the prize pig at a county fair, it becomes his fault. Ergo 'all men are bastards'.
It makes the resulting sting less acute.
posted by from sychar to eternity at 11:21
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