Pondering

I have been thinking about the void mentioned in my last post. Something somewhere tells me now that it was just fresh memory that made it feel like a void. Now it seems more like a scar. Not an ugly thing that distorts the features but a beautiful mark which accents them; something that defines a part of who I am.

Scars are personal things. Some are large, ugly and most disturbingly visible. People will want to know how you got them. Some will ask, some will not; depending on their discretion. When they ask, you might decide to tell them, you might decide not to tell them; depending on your discretion. It seems that explaining what caused the scar seems the wiser decision, in order to prevent speculation. These are the visible scars. The small marks in the dark places are precious; you struggle to keep them hidden. Once in a while though, someone gets close enough to discovering the writing on your skin, so you choose to pull your sleeve back and let them see it. The unspoken agreement is secrecy. Some people don’t understand.

Some scars are so precious that you covet them. They are valuable enough to lose your oldest friend over. If they were ever really your friend.

Pause to Reflect

It seems like I've come to another phase of blogging-everyday-before-not-blogging-for-another-century. The commencement of university is not for another few days and joblessness has made me resort to a favorite pastime. I know you all USED to have nothing to complain about, since my writing was immaculate and wonderfully entertaining, but I also know that now you DO have something to complain about since my style is cramped. Fuck that.

So one of those age-old friends was over all day today, and both of us being female, this resulted in some… drama…? Emotional trauma. For me.

It used to make me angry when people, men, scoffed at the idea of a girl and a guy being best friends; the reason being that I'm a girl and my best friend is a guy. That anger was defiance. It still makes me angry when people tell me that a girl and a guy can't be best friends. This anger is bitterness. My girlfriend and I discussed this relationship, and I decided that I need to dissect it now.

One thing that strikes me is the fact that it was always the men who were skeptical about it being a completely platonic relationship. There is something romantic about a girl and a guy being only friends, maybe in the 'non-happening-ness' of the whole situation, the static purity of it all, which appeals to the female mind. At first, this seemed to be the reason the girls gave it a chance and the guys just laughed - because they didn't see the romance in the whole goddamned thing! But then, the genius cousin came up with a better explanation (as usual). Apparently guys don't differentiate between girlfriends and girlfriends. (That's probably because they can't. They are the less intelligent species after all!) They can't see (or even if they could, understand) the huge difference the ITALICS make. On Venus, the 'regular' girlfriend is just a friend. You hang out with her, chat with her, crack sick jokes with her and do crazy-ass shit with her. You don't get emotionally involved with her; neither do you feel sexually attracted to her. These things you save for the girlfriend (with the italics). On Mars, these two types are interchangeable. Now, since the average Venusian is unaware of this, complications arise. As did with us.

At the end of the day, one of us, or both of us ended up being a fool. Now I understand that a guy and a girl can't really be very close friends and maintain a completely platonic relationship. Woe be unto you if you believe otherwise and wish to prove your beliefs. Somebody, somewhere along the way is going to get hurt. Most probably both of you.

I know I still hurt because of what happened, and I know he still hurts because of what happened. I could blame him, or I could blame myself, but I suppose I can't justify blaming anybody. I realized today, that even after almost a year, the pain runs strong. I just don't feel it often because it runs deep. What's worse, losing your best friend or losing the love of your life?

I don't know the answer to that question, but I just realized that the void created by either is very, very difficult to fill; if it is possible to fill it at all.

Returning the RagDoll

What a long time it has been since I wrote last. I finished my last post some months ago with the vehement assertion that I had "grown up". Sad (or happy) to say, my opinion has changed. Haren jestingly noted that he found it hard to believe, and four months or so after writing that post, I too can't help but laugh when I read it. A lot, I mean a lot has changed. Easiest would probably be to start with the last thing that changed.

As of Monday, the 14^th of July, 2008, I will be another aimless university student following a useless course which will qualify me for a degree as a Bachelor of Arts from the University of Peradeniya. How or why I came to this position is not clear, and I really can't believe it. This, like the SATs, is another example of how I do things (ie: fill out and hand in applications), knowing fully well the repercussions, yet not expecting them to happen when they obviously will. Either way, I am now in the middle of a jumble of birth certificates, financial documents and six black-and-white passport-sized photographs with my "name and student number written clearly on the back" and a really bad cold. None of which I want.

The above mentioned phenomenon which just happened to me has caused me to leave my job, my house, my life and my love back in Colombo and move back with the motherhood here in the peaceful hills. Not that I'm complaining though! The job was getting a bit tiresome, and as humble advice to people who can't conform: DO NOT TAKE REGULAR (OR irregular for that matter) 9-5 JOBS. I'm serious. This is a very good lesson I learnt during my after-als-and-nothing-to-do period. I can't conform, and I should stop trying to, because I only fail. My house was becoming a beautiful home (to the surprise of very many people who were aware of the state of my bedroom here in Kandy) yet the house-mate and the constant stream of visitors was starting to get to me. Those new friends of mine, the "sweet and focused" girls I met a few months ago, got a big hard kick in the rear for being paranoid religious fanatics who don't know it. Sorry. My life still goes on. Earning was fun, and I had developed to the stage of being able to handle responsibility of having to find and fund my own meals. My LOVE is the next new thing :)

It seems a bit ironic that I finally found somebody who can actually give me everything I ever wanted in my man, only to find that nobody really wanted me to be with him. Social prejudice is a weird and messed-up thing which ruins people, lives, minds and most sadly, happiness. This definition needs to get on the Oxford Dictionary. I think most of you (at least two of the three people who read this blog) will agree with me. So I decided that I was going to let social prejudice find itself a pastime (various grotesque ideas related to reproduction come to mind) and let myself be happy. I am :)

I admit, the unbeatable *wink* style has got cramped thanks to writing boring pieces on press-conference and other bored-freelance-journalist related compositions, but I plan to get back to being the awesomely talented and prolific writer I once was ;)

"Patience Iago!"