Yep, you read that right.. click the link below and know that this is a silly blog, but one which just goes to serve as a reminder to all who know me that not everything which crosses my mind is dark and ponderous..
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-10695037
So, a few million years of evolution pass quietly by and with little warning a donkey suddenly finds itself at odds with gravity, and in a blindingly surreal few minutes (for everyone including the donkey) it finds itself airborne. This creature which in the grand scale of things is generally speaking little more than a slightly chubby, furry horse finds itself in an aerial predicament unlike almost any other of its kind before it. I’ll lay odds on it being the first time a flying donkey of any description has lived to tell the tale. In short there can’t have been many, and all this disturbs the philosopher in me..
With an undoubted stroke of advertising genius I have to pause and wonder - what have these people done? It’s true that I don’t think I’d forget seeing that in a hurry, but that’s not the point. Its ancestors have always roamed the ground, munching away without a care in the world - excepting any times when it was required to run away from something which wanted to eat it. Assuming the experience hasn’t rendered the donkey incapable of reproducing, just what might we have imparted to its genes with this? Certainly if it isn’t catatonic the donkey is in itself unlikely to forget all this in its lifetime either. It might even be able to recall to its friends what it was advertising as its life flashed before its eyes in a blur of surf and blue sky. Most worryingly, there was no discipline required on the donkey’s part to master the concepts of aerodynamics, propulsion or how to land.. Without warning it was thrust into a new environment and given an experience way, way ahead of its time and much, much sooner than it should have happened – assuming they had a destiny in the say in the first place. What lies in store for the future of “donkeydom”? Will the idea of air travel now take hold in its descendants, seeping into their awareness little by little.. bit by bit.. a little base pair tweak here and there, until one day..
and for what?! An advertisement for a beach.
What exactly were they trying to say anyway? “Come to our beach – WE have flying donkeys!“? A tad obvious perhaps. Maybe, “Come to our beach – the surrounding grass is really lush and uneaten”? Probably very true but no, it doesn’t seem right somehow. Perhaps “Come to our beach – your drink won’t be consumed by stray donkeys because we’ve put them all out of reach of your beer – and THAT’s a guarantee!”? I’m not on the whole too sure..
It gets worse.. What about the birds? What would they make of this mercurial burro as it soared clumsily, “eee-oar”ing its way through the stratosphere in a fashion which must have had them either drawing up battle plans or holding their breath in fear of further intoxication?
All in all I’m just saying that they might have thought it through a little deeper, but I’m not an advertising expert so I suppose I’ll leave it all to those who know better. I do have to admit I can’t think of anything more revolting than trying to share a warming, sun-kissed beach with a pack of donkeys staggering around, acting rowdy, chewing on your beach towel or sunshade and vomiting all over your sun lounger. Maybe they did the wrong thing for the right reasons? Until next time..
Peace
Tuesday 20 July 2010
Monday 12 July 2010
You Have To Laugh I Suppose.. *^^*..
Here we go again – I’ve been crippled by shyness, experienced the reduction of romance like a fine sauce by the passage of time, been dumped in a country of 91.9 million strangers 7,000 miles from home, and now as if all that wasn’t enough I’m put in the position of having to bottle up my feelings for a certain somebody, who has become very special to me of late. At this point I admit I wouldn't mind knowing just how many permutations I’m going to have to go through in my life before ‘Miss Right’ appears. I know, I know.. but let me reiterate that this is not a whinge (well, it's a little therapeutic) but rather a continuing catalogue of life as it goes, blow by blow, for the benefit of anyone reading - and believe me it certainly does blow.
I keep getting the feeling that if I'm lucky enough to get to read this back years from now my life will probably appear to me as a warning to others on how NOT to play it, rather than a resume of success. If anyone reading is wondering how to deal with unrequited feelings, my first bit of advice is reconcile those feelings - as quickly as you possibly can. Having experienced a few heartbreaking variations on a theme I can say that this is probably the cruellest out there.. and yes, without some effort on your part the hardest day will be the day when she finds her ‘Mr Right’ - but I will also be happy for her.. and so should you.
That’s lesson number two.
Remember always that if you really care then know that she deserves her happiness too, simple as.. Don’t blame her for her lack of mutual feelings. As has been discussed if that spark is missing then that’s just the way it is. Retain your honour in the face of circumstantial defeat! If any doubt remains just bear a little role reversal in mind. Rejection is hard, but I would say there’s nothing wrong with feeling the way you will likely feel – grieving through any kind of emotional difficulty or loss is okay, just don’t dwell on it for too long. Believe in the future. Listen to me.. I’m beginning to sound like a pro (you’d never believe it really).
I think we will always have a good friendship whatever the circumstances but it has to be said that letting go of the regular companionship, as with all friendships which move on, will be hard. Oh, and if that certain someone is reading this.. then for the record I want you to know that when your day does come I will be so happy.. and I will miss you so much :)
I keep getting the feeling that if I'm lucky enough to get to read this back years from now my life will probably appear to me as a warning to others on how NOT to play it, rather than a resume of success. If anyone reading is wondering how to deal with unrequited feelings, my first bit of advice is reconcile those feelings - as quickly as you possibly can. Having experienced a few heartbreaking variations on a theme I can say that this is probably the cruellest out there.. and yes, without some effort on your part the hardest day will be the day when she finds her ‘Mr Right’ - but I will also be happy for her.. and so should you.
That’s lesson number two.
Remember always that if you really care then know that she deserves her happiness too, simple as.. Don’t blame her for her lack of mutual feelings. As has been discussed if that spark is missing then that’s just the way it is. Retain your honour in the face of circumstantial defeat! If any doubt remains just bear a little role reversal in mind. Rejection is hard, but I would say there’s nothing wrong with feeling the way you will likely feel – grieving through any kind of emotional difficulty or loss is okay, just don’t dwell on it for too long. Believe in the future. Listen to me.. I’m beginning to sound like a pro (you’d never believe it really).
I think we will always have a good friendship whatever the circumstances but it has to be said that letting go of the regular companionship, as with all friendships which move on, will be hard. Oh, and if that certain someone is reading this.. then for the record I want you to know that when your day does come I will be so happy.. and I will miss you so much :)
Friday 18 June 2010
The Truth Points To Itself
I think I’ve finally managed to work out what is causing my heart such anxiety. That certain someone out there, whomever she is, is going to have to be a very special person indeed. She will be amazing. Well she would be, but why the heavy emphasis and the upset? I’ve come to realise that the key to this is not me getting hung up on my feelings regarding my girl in the aftermath of the Manila escapade (although that could be an unwritten debate in itself – see the blog “How Far Will You Go? Pt 2” below to see what happened), but rather it’s in the echo of how this woman made me feel before it all came mysteriously tumbling down. I’ve discovered that the real problem provoking despair is the chance of finding someone who would be able to make me feel emotions as strongly as she did. In spite of the outcome, one thing which did happen to me (and I still don’t know whether to thank her for this or not) is I experienced a whole new depth of ‘feeling’ through our six months of conversations. Ironically it isn’t important whether it was a real love or not - even if it was, it certainly can’t have been fully mutual otherwise we’d still be together, yes!? It was the depth of feeling which was present in our expressions. She may have set the emotional bar impossibly high for anyone else yet to step into the light. Consequently, looking from ‘this end of the rainbow’ I find that my fear is that I am likely to be compromised in ever finding as much joy in any relationship ever again.
Of course the simple, logical solution would be to lower my sights, but can the heart learn to compromise? Can a lesser relationship really thrive in the shadow of stronger past emotions without a foundation of underlying resentment? A friend I spoke with about this told me that she felt that relationships were ultimately all “different”. In all seriousness I’ve considered this point before, and maybe she’s right. Maybe it will prove to be the saving grace for my future. After all I don’t suppose I can compare any of my previous relationships to one another – they were each what they were at the time – all valuable in the moment - some continue to be relevant to this day. Perhaps I need not worry after all. Maybe the next will simply be as special in its own way?!
As before then, it’s back to the same question for my mystery woman.. “Where are you?”
Of course the simple, logical solution would be to lower my sights, but can the heart learn to compromise? Can a lesser relationship really thrive in the shadow of stronger past emotions without a foundation of underlying resentment? A friend I spoke with about this told me that she felt that relationships were ultimately all “different”. In all seriousness I’ve considered this point before, and maybe she’s right. Maybe it will prove to be the saving grace for my future. After all I don’t suppose I can compare any of my previous relationships to one another – they were each what they were at the time – all valuable in the moment - some continue to be relevant to this day. Perhaps I need not worry after all. Maybe the next will simply be as special in its own way?!
As before then, it’s back to the same question for my mystery woman.. “Where are you?”
Monday 31 May 2010
Hajimemashite, Aishitemasu.. O-namae wa nan desu ka?
Okay, maybe Jim Morrison didn’t say it quite like that, but with a renewed purpose I open myself again to where the far eastern winds blow, entrusting the future of my heart to the Asian woman who is out there looking for me.
How’s THAT for an outrageous spin of optimism!? :)
It’s become an obvious and well-accepted truth to me that no matter how hard you push, love refuses to be ‘found’. So, I’ve decided that in my current state of rest it couldn’t possibly hurt to reach out to her, and share a little mantra of spiritual encouragement:
Are you searching for that special someone, to share in a life filled with mutual learning, love and respect? Do you believe that a quirky sense of humour and romance are ‘must have’ qualities in your soulmate? Should he have a deeper, philosophical side? Would he ideally enjoy art, photography, music, movies and theatre? Should he be a decent cook? Should he be able to enjoy walking aimlessly hand in hand with you through beautiful places, talking about anything and nothing.. and be capable of taking an absurd amount of joy in the simplest things, which most people would overlook? Should he be the kind of man who would promise to never hurt you, and yet still possess the humility to say sorry if he did? Would you dare to dream of sharing unfathomable depths of caring, love and intimacy, and to do so every day as though it were the last?
How do I find myself returning full circle time and again to my belief in you? Where are you? In this very moment, where are you? What do you dream about? How do you look when you sleep? When I close my eyes you are always there with me, yet I do not know your face. You have a soul, grace and beauty I have yet to know, and when I do meet you I‘ll know it because you’ll bring my heart and my world to a stop. When that happens, no other woman will ever be able to walk the same path.
Wherever you are, know that you are already loved beyond all measure. All that is missing is one simple thing..
we have yet to meet. *^^*
How’s THAT for an outrageous spin of optimism!? :)
It’s become an obvious and well-accepted truth to me that no matter how hard you push, love refuses to be ‘found’. So, I’ve decided that in my current state of rest it couldn’t possibly hurt to reach out to her, and share a little mantra of spiritual encouragement:
Are you searching for that special someone, to share in a life filled with mutual learning, love and respect? Do you believe that a quirky sense of humour and romance are ‘must have’ qualities in your soulmate? Should he have a deeper, philosophical side? Would he ideally enjoy art, photography, music, movies and theatre? Should he be a decent cook? Should he be able to enjoy walking aimlessly hand in hand with you through beautiful places, talking about anything and nothing.. and be capable of taking an absurd amount of joy in the simplest things, which most people would overlook? Should he be the kind of man who would promise to never hurt you, and yet still possess the humility to say sorry if he did? Would you dare to dream of sharing unfathomable depths of caring, love and intimacy, and to do so every day as though it were the last?
How do I find myself returning full circle time and again to my belief in you? Where are you? In this very moment, where are you? What do you dream about? How do you look when you sleep? When I close my eyes you are always there with me, yet I do not know your face. You have a soul, grace and beauty I have yet to know, and when I do meet you I‘ll know it because you’ll bring my heart and my world to a stop. When that happens, no other woman will ever be able to walk the same path.
Wherever you are, know that you are already loved beyond all measure. All that is missing is one simple thing..
we have yet to meet. *^^*
Tuesday 11 May 2010
To Be Or Not To Be.. Ouch!
In view of my patchy past with relationships and my recent altercations with romance and all things which are supposed to bring comfort and happiness (as opposed to discomfort and hopelessness), I have finally resolved to face a personal demon which has been with me now for about twenty seven years. From today I am faced with the deepest, most fundamental life-defining choice of whether to continue in my pursuit of love, and find a way to cope within my continuing state of emotional disarray, or to turn my back on the search for love and look to something else to fill the gap.
It is an unfortunate and inescapable fact in this repeatedly ironic life of mine that I am a natural romantic, so you will understand when I say that this looming impasse is a painfully difficult and heartbreaking one for me to resolve – the hardest I have ever confronted, and in view of the definitive resolution I am looking for this time, the hardest of its kind bar none. I find myself here because I firmly believe that everybody surrounding me (and not least of all myself) have the right to live without my mood swings. All the chaos running around inside me is quite simply making my life a living nightmare, and by association it is making me a day-to-day pain in the arse to live with. I know this. It may even come as a surprise to some of those suffering around me to know that I know this. I wasn’t always like this. The cruelty to be found in womankind, my world and the passage of time has conspired to put me where I now find myself. I suppose I first have to unravel the situation – I believe that ‘dissemination before understanding’ is the traditional technique..
In spite of my contemplation over shunning romance I have to concede that the one thing which is preventing me from letting it all go without a fight is the certain knowledge that a life without love isn’t a real life - it’s merely a state of existence, no matter how many counter arguments I read which say that love is something which you don’t truly gain from simply having a woman/man in your life. I can see where they’re coming from, but on the whole they are also wrong. If you have someone in your life and you do both truly love one another then each person in that loving relationship will reflect the other’s joy and a sustained, loving symbiosis will result, at least until one person in the union loses either their sense of that love or life itself. The inspiration of love is also a profound thing, which by its mere existence can foster better behaviour and greater achievement in both giver and recipient. I can’t imagine a happier state of being. Of course life has it’s contradictions to contend with – I think most people tussle with my personal favourite which states that unless you have money your options are limited, but in order to make that money you instead have to spend your playtime working. There is a relevant old adage to contemplate which lies in a similarly frustrating vein - ‘a watched pot never boils’. This is definitely the case in the search for love, and I can even say, to extend the metaphor, that I would quite happily take a joyful life which passes quickly over an eternity of misery.
Then there is the argument which states that you cannot love anyone else until you can first learn to love yourself. I can see the validity to this as well, and in this there is some truth. If you are caught up in a situation which leaves you feeling anything from having no real opinion of your self-worth, through to a real venomous self-loathing then this is inevitably going to show itself outwardly in a literal or abstract way. Any possible partner will likely sense this, and in the case of the latter it would be a brave but very worthy person who persevered through that kind of barrier to reach and heal the afflicted individual - I do think though that it would indeed be a very rare love, and worthier than most of a savagely tight grasp by both parties. At the moment I think I stand in the former camp – I have no real opinion of feeling about myself one way or another. I seem to be stuck in a form of suffocating nothingness – a day to day blur of faces that seem to reflect a similar weariness. In this place my heart simply refuses to feel, and when I should be seizing the day and reaching out to beautiful people and trying to heal, I find myself simply dying instead. I don’t actually hate myself – I got past that one a while ago. It took a little time before I realised that I was allowing myself to be pigeon-holed and then trying to accept that pigeon hole, rather than taking the third option and forcing people to accept me for who I am, and knowing that my opinions and outlooks really are as valid as the next person. Damn everyone in the past who tried to make me feel otherwise. No, self-loathing isn’t an issue. My quandary is a race against time, and it is the thought that I might find myself reflecting with sadness on a loveless life many years from now which fills me with a horror, and which is making me counterproductively unbearable in the present. The most recent hurt I have had to contend with is a situation involving unrequited emotion. For any of you yet to experience this one, do yourself a favour and try to avoid it in the first place – PLEASE, PLEASE trust me on this one. As inspiration for avoidance let me tell you it simply ISN’T possible to overcome it – not if you really feel it. It’s like any irreparable injury, you just have to learn to live with it. In double fact, this may have been the catalyst for putting me in the position of considering alternatives to love.
After all of the above I’m sure you can understand why I have little patience for pointless celebrity romance gossip devoid of any real meaning, or people who continually abuse each other in relationships – to say nothing of those who seem to treat my nameless unrequited one with a casual attitude.
So, from all this, what do we have? I think the real big question at the heart of all this is quite obvious to me now - “how does one overcome the absence of another’s loving inspiration, create your own inspiration and bring order to emotional chaos?”. No small undertaking - can it really be done? Assuming I elect instead to prolong my search for love, surely I will need to find some kind of inner happiness before any sane woman will touch me with a barge pole? One person reading this will probably think this the heaviest blog yet. Do you know, honestly after all this, I just don’t know what to think.. I am so tired of feeling alone. Aren't we all? lol. Maybe I shouldn't be trying to resolve anything in my present condition!? Humph..
I shall have to have a good think about this when I’ve got some more strength for it, and get back to you all when I do.. As with other blogs, I welcome any sensible comments..
Peace
It is an unfortunate and inescapable fact in this repeatedly ironic life of mine that I am a natural romantic, so you will understand when I say that this looming impasse is a painfully difficult and heartbreaking one for me to resolve – the hardest I have ever confronted, and in view of the definitive resolution I am looking for this time, the hardest of its kind bar none. I find myself here because I firmly believe that everybody surrounding me (and not least of all myself) have the right to live without my mood swings. All the chaos running around inside me is quite simply making my life a living nightmare, and by association it is making me a day-to-day pain in the arse to live with. I know this. It may even come as a surprise to some of those suffering around me to know that I know this. I wasn’t always like this. The cruelty to be found in womankind, my world and the passage of time has conspired to put me where I now find myself. I suppose I first have to unravel the situation – I believe that ‘dissemination before understanding’ is the traditional technique..
In spite of my contemplation over shunning romance I have to concede that the one thing which is preventing me from letting it all go without a fight is the certain knowledge that a life without love isn’t a real life - it’s merely a state of existence, no matter how many counter arguments I read which say that love is something which you don’t truly gain from simply having a woman/man in your life. I can see where they’re coming from, but on the whole they are also wrong. If you have someone in your life and you do both truly love one another then each person in that loving relationship will reflect the other’s joy and a sustained, loving symbiosis will result, at least until one person in the union loses either their sense of that love or life itself. The inspiration of love is also a profound thing, which by its mere existence can foster better behaviour and greater achievement in both giver and recipient. I can’t imagine a happier state of being. Of course life has it’s contradictions to contend with – I think most people tussle with my personal favourite which states that unless you have money your options are limited, but in order to make that money you instead have to spend your playtime working. There is a relevant old adage to contemplate which lies in a similarly frustrating vein - ‘a watched pot never boils’. This is definitely the case in the search for love, and I can even say, to extend the metaphor, that I would quite happily take a joyful life which passes quickly over an eternity of misery.
Then there is the argument which states that you cannot love anyone else until you can first learn to love yourself. I can see the validity to this as well, and in this there is some truth. If you are caught up in a situation which leaves you feeling anything from having no real opinion of your self-worth, through to a real venomous self-loathing then this is inevitably going to show itself outwardly in a literal or abstract way. Any possible partner will likely sense this, and in the case of the latter it would be a brave but very worthy person who persevered through that kind of barrier to reach and heal the afflicted individual - I do think though that it would indeed be a very rare love, and worthier than most of a savagely tight grasp by both parties. At the moment I think I stand in the former camp – I have no real opinion of feeling about myself one way or another. I seem to be stuck in a form of suffocating nothingness – a day to day blur of faces that seem to reflect a similar weariness. In this place my heart simply refuses to feel, and when I should be seizing the day and reaching out to beautiful people and trying to heal, I find myself simply dying instead. I don’t actually hate myself – I got past that one a while ago. It took a little time before I realised that I was allowing myself to be pigeon-holed and then trying to accept that pigeon hole, rather than taking the third option and forcing people to accept me for who I am, and knowing that my opinions and outlooks really are as valid as the next person. Damn everyone in the past who tried to make me feel otherwise. No, self-loathing isn’t an issue. My quandary is a race against time, and it is the thought that I might find myself reflecting with sadness on a loveless life many years from now which fills me with a horror, and which is making me counterproductively unbearable in the present. The most recent hurt I have had to contend with is a situation involving unrequited emotion. For any of you yet to experience this one, do yourself a favour and try to avoid it in the first place – PLEASE, PLEASE trust me on this one. As inspiration for avoidance let me tell you it simply ISN’T possible to overcome it – not if you really feel it. It’s like any irreparable injury, you just have to learn to live with it. In double fact, this may have been the catalyst for putting me in the position of considering alternatives to love.
After all of the above I’m sure you can understand why I have little patience for pointless celebrity romance gossip devoid of any real meaning, or people who continually abuse each other in relationships – to say nothing of those who seem to treat my nameless unrequited one with a casual attitude.
So, from all this, what do we have? I think the real big question at the heart of all this is quite obvious to me now - “how does one overcome the absence of another’s loving inspiration, create your own inspiration and bring order to emotional chaos?”. No small undertaking - can it really be done? Assuming I elect instead to prolong my search for love, surely I will need to find some kind of inner happiness before any sane woman will touch me with a barge pole? One person reading this will probably think this the heaviest blog yet. Do you know, honestly after all this, I just don’t know what to think.. I am so tired of feeling alone. Aren't we all? lol. Maybe I shouldn't be trying to resolve anything in my present condition!? Humph..
I shall have to have a good think about this when I’ve got some more strength for it, and get back to you all when I do.. As with other blogs, I welcome any sensible comments..
Peace
Monday 3 May 2010
The Art of Suffocation (not what you're thinking..)
“How can the same s*%t happen to the same guy twice?” – John McClane, Die Hard 2
If there were any blog which I have written which I would hope to receive a broader audience, it is this one. John, you had it easy my friend.. With all due respect you had targets you could rationalise, manipulate and stop - with lethal force if necessary. Matters of the heart are intangible affairs and, unlike a man-made weapon, love is truly the most powerful of energies. You cannot force anyone to love you. It can’t be grown, you cannot truly lure it, build it or trade in it. Like Chuck Norris, it finds you – or not as the case may be. As I reflected on a little earlier in the day, heroin, hashish, cocaine, and all such substances are rightly or wrongly a personal lifestyle choice. By comparison emotions and love are something we are all lumbered with from birth. No one has any choice, the harsh element of “luck” as an active component exacerbates it, and it seems some people cope with its absence better than others. If there were a creator (and in this situation I am in I am seriously tempted to uphold it as proof of the non-existence of God) then why didn’t ‘it’ reconsider the consequences of giving us a heart before granting such a double-edged sword?
After my recent altercation with fate in Manila, I now find myself stumbling backwards into another undesired and painful experience which has forced me into the rather extreme measure of temporarily withdrawing my daily friendship with a rather attractive member of the opposite sex. Through no real fault of her own, and through circumstances which I choose not to elaborate on, I have developed unrequited emotions for this person (sourcing from an event further back than even the beginning of the Manila escapade), and in order to protect any long-term future friendship for us I have been forced to take a step back before I either make her uncomfortable to the point that she has to lose me as a friend, or I begin to subconsciously resent her for inevitably rejecting my affections. To have to now deal with another rejection where there is already too much personal chaos leaves me in a very hard place. Unfortunate though it is for me, I have the kind of personality which thrives on the promise of love and companionship. I would be the first to admit that though in the past I have managed on my own, I am now heartily sick of it. The thought of continuing another day without any returning affection in my life fills me with a sense of dread, and plants me in a vicious circle, which some would likely dispense with by ritual hari-kiri. I seem to have a general lack of enthusiasm for anything, or an ability to experience pleasure in achievement. This sounds pathetic (and it likely is) but in contradiction to my continuing habit of taking an absurd amount of joy from inconsequential experiences (a sunset, or some other abstract momentary thing), I genuinely don’t have any sense of real joy for anything more substantial which might engage me and bring me into contact with a soulmate. As an artist I suppose this too puts me at a disadvantage – when the core of my soul and philosophy revolves around emotion, and that source is disrupted by disharmony, the whole tends toward failure, like an engine left to run without oil. When this outlet of engagement and diversion is exhausted and all I have to look forward to is the monotonous grind of life between work, home and sleep (especially when you have no available expenses for anything you might describe as “fun” for the next four months as a consequence of the last relationship ‘faux pas’) where do you turn for comfort? When the medicine of love becomes a poison where the hell do you turn?
These are not rhetorical questions – I really have no answers this time, and I’m very open to suggestions.
I don’t consider myself a proud person stubbornly beyond the grace of a helping hand, but I don’t wish to burden my friends with any sofa-hogging imposition or tiresome pub scenes. They have lives and the last thing they need, even if they don’t want to admit it, is a miserable sod taking up space in their homely routines. I suspect it would ultimately do me no good anyway. In a savage twist of irony the one person who might best understand me (the ex) is now in another relationship of her own, and quite preoccupied – and rightfully so. I have to wonder how I managed to reach such a position of utter isolation. When did I begin to find society so painfully dull or un-accepting as to stop being able to make new friends? As I look about me, not just now but day-to-day generally, I feel as though people are somehow socially embarrassed to help another in trouble. When the hell did this attitude take root? Are people now so inept that they cannot expand beyond their circle of friends in a social environment and reach out to someone who looks as though they might need a friendly embrace? Am I envious of those who do have someone to hold, to the point of self-destructive thoughts and habits? Without a successful distraction of hobby or habit I suppose it is certainly possible, but what does that then say about me as a person and how do I resolve this before it inevitably overwhelms me? What does a tired atheist draw on to help them through the loneliness, which if I’m honest, could last anywhere from overnight to the rest of his life?
I will soldier on somehow. I suppose on reflection I have been here many times before now, but somehow it feels different this time, and I don’t mind admitting that for right now, I hurt.. and I am very scared.
If there were any blog which I have written which I would hope to receive a broader audience, it is this one. John, you had it easy my friend.. With all due respect you had targets you could rationalise, manipulate and stop - with lethal force if necessary. Matters of the heart are intangible affairs and, unlike a man-made weapon, love is truly the most powerful of energies. You cannot force anyone to love you. It can’t be grown, you cannot truly lure it, build it or trade in it. Like Chuck Norris, it finds you – or not as the case may be. As I reflected on a little earlier in the day, heroin, hashish, cocaine, and all such substances are rightly or wrongly a personal lifestyle choice. By comparison emotions and love are something we are all lumbered with from birth. No one has any choice, the harsh element of “luck” as an active component exacerbates it, and it seems some people cope with its absence better than others. If there were a creator (and in this situation I am in I am seriously tempted to uphold it as proof of the non-existence of God) then why didn’t ‘it’ reconsider the consequences of giving us a heart before granting such a double-edged sword?
After my recent altercation with fate in Manila, I now find myself stumbling backwards into another undesired and painful experience which has forced me into the rather extreme measure of temporarily withdrawing my daily friendship with a rather attractive member of the opposite sex. Through no real fault of her own, and through circumstances which I choose not to elaborate on, I have developed unrequited emotions for this person (sourcing from an event further back than even the beginning of the Manila escapade), and in order to protect any long-term future friendship for us I have been forced to take a step back before I either make her uncomfortable to the point that she has to lose me as a friend, or I begin to subconsciously resent her for inevitably rejecting my affections. To have to now deal with another rejection where there is already too much personal chaos leaves me in a very hard place. Unfortunate though it is for me, I have the kind of personality which thrives on the promise of love and companionship. I would be the first to admit that though in the past I have managed on my own, I am now heartily sick of it. The thought of continuing another day without any returning affection in my life fills me with a sense of dread, and plants me in a vicious circle, which some would likely dispense with by ritual hari-kiri. I seem to have a general lack of enthusiasm for anything, or an ability to experience pleasure in achievement. This sounds pathetic (and it likely is) but in contradiction to my continuing habit of taking an absurd amount of joy from inconsequential experiences (a sunset, or some other abstract momentary thing), I genuinely don’t have any sense of real joy for anything more substantial which might engage me and bring me into contact with a soulmate. As an artist I suppose this too puts me at a disadvantage – when the core of my soul and philosophy revolves around emotion, and that source is disrupted by disharmony, the whole tends toward failure, like an engine left to run without oil. When this outlet of engagement and diversion is exhausted and all I have to look forward to is the monotonous grind of life between work, home and sleep (especially when you have no available expenses for anything you might describe as “fun” for the next four months as a consequence of the last relationship ‘faux pas’) where do you turn for comfort? When the medicine of love becomes a poison where the hell do you turn?
These are not rhetorical questions – I really have no answers this time, and I’m very open to suggestions.
I don’t consider myself a proud person stubbornly beyond the grace of a helping hand, but I don’t wish to burden my friends with any sofa-hogging imposition or tiresome pub scenes. They have lives and the last thing they need, even if they don’t want to admit it, is a miserable sod taking up space in their homely routines. I suspect it would ultimately do me no good anyway. In a savage twist of irony the one person who might best understand me (the ex) is now in another relationship of her own, and quite preoccupied – and rightfully so. I have to wonder how I managed to reach such a position of utter isolation. When did I begin to find society so painfully dull or un-accepting as to stop being able to make new friends? As I look about me, not just now but day-to-day generally, I feel as though people are somehow socially embarrassed to help another in trouble. When the hell did this attitude take root? Are people now so inept that they cannot expand beyond their circle of friends in a social environment and reach out to someone who looks as though they might need a friendly embrace? Am I envious of those who do have someone to hold, to the point of self-destructive thoughts and habits? Without a successful distraction of hobby or habit I suppose it is certainly possible, but what does that then say about me as a person and how do I resolve this before it inevitably overwhelms me? What does a tired atheist draw on to help them through the loneliness, which if I’m honest, could last anywhere from overnight to the rest of his life?
I will soldier on somehow. I suppose on reflection I have been here many times before now, but somehow it feels different this time, and I don’t mind admitting that for right now, I hurt.. and I am very scared.
Saturday 24 April 2010
Life and Love: The Complete Works (Vol.1)
My recent blog regarding my thoughts on love and my feelings (or lack of) for the majority of western women seemed to quite upset a friend of mine. As is my nature I responded with a personal email to clarify some points rather than leaving them to stew, but on reflection I decided to revisit my thoughts and ponder some more on the matter – “Perhaps it might somehow help me to resolve this ‘dead time’ I find myself stuck in” I thought to myself.
On the morning that I began writing this blog I bumped into a friend - let’s call him ‘Alex’, and save him from any embarrassment by association (lol). Okay, Alex told me that he’d been through a divorce some five years previous, and that it had left him pretty gutted. I’m paraphrasing a little here but he told me that it was his personal belief that once a man reaches a certain age he becomes something of a disposable asset to the fairer sex. After we parted company I continued in contemplation. On my way to a local park for some r’n’r I passed by a wonderful little “Banksy”esque piece of wall art (it may actually be one of Banksy's works) which keeps catching my eye. A message alongside the picture reads “She’s only with you until the next best thing comes along”. I began to follow a disturbing thread which pointed to a possible truth in Alex’s words. Might capitalism have infused itself so deeply into our lives that we have now started to see one other as disposable as, say a broken TV or toaster - to be discarded without so much as a thought beyond the acquisition of the next model? If this is the case it may explain why, in my forlorn state, I feel repelled by my day-to-day social environment and drawn towards alternative cultures which I feel still express a sense of honour in their day to day habits. For me, Japan is one such culture. That Japan is adopting a lot of the western attitudes is also something of a personal worry (and quite likely a source of concern for many Japanese elders), but maybe there is still a chance – maybe I’m not too late. Oh, and I think as I keep mentioning Asian women in so many of my blogs, that now is probably a good time to refute any accusations that I harbour an "Asian fetish" (in the generally held conception of the phrase). Although I have stated that Japan is a cultural choice, I still find given all the world to choose from, that Asian women are quite simply the most naturally beautiful and attractive women to me, full stop. This is something I've discovered about myself and I can't explain it - it's just the way I'm put together. I don't have any fake veneer ready to appease anyone with attitudes lacking in, shall we say 'social harmony', who might look down on me for whatever reason - to them I say "grow up and get over it". I don't have, nor have I ever felt the need to follow a social clique. I take people as I find them, and have no time to entertain any pre-suppositions relating to either my appearance or my life choices. Trust me, in my case looks CAN be deceiving. I am my own man, I harbour an open and inquisitive mind, and people have little choice but to take me as they find me. I can easily think of a few people who would likely testify to this in a court of law right now! : )
Wait. Getting back to the matter at hand (ahem), might there be a fundamental flaw to my view of love? Stepping back to look at the overall picture, I suppose it could be argued that whilst marriage and life-long relationships are indeed very noble pursuits and wonderfully romantic, maybe they aren’t a natural human state? From nature’s perspective it could be reasoned that we are socially designed to come together for the explicit reason of procreation – to bear as many offspring as is possible. If this is true, might people actually be psychologically compelled to seek out someone new once the offspring are “grown up”? Bad news for long-lived romances, but it might explain divorce generally, and maybe even point to a component of natural compulsion behind the mid-life crisis (well, beyond the very palpable fear of running out of life). As I write it now fills me with horror to think that what I have sought all my life, and feel somehow lost without, could actually be unnatural. Perversely, I might further condemn my dream by arguing that divorce isn’t some new side effect of modern life, as the elder generation might have you believe. They argue that they have a moral superiority to our modern, fickle attitudes, but with respect for all they had to put up with there is a great deal more human history than the “war years” and broken hearts have been with us for a very long time. Scarily enough, the implication from all this is that my search for everlasting love might be a fruitless search – am I looking for something which doesn’t actually exist? I think we need to take a closer look..
Whether you believe that religions derived from a man or a god, it is still a fact that their main purpose seems to be to act as a force for stability in society. Isn’t it possible to argue that marriage is simply one of the many social sub-paragraphs of religion which tries to shame us into sticking it out with one person, to have and to hold from this day forwards, in sickness and health, until parted by death? Is the concept of marriage an attempt to seek order in chaos by reinforcing a social lie, against the true nature of mankind? Similarly, general education and the media seeks to have us believe that a “normal” life consists of us going through school and into employment to sustain our well-being, where we can look forward to pairing up with a man/woman and get a house, have children and live happily ever after (the social lie I postulate). Maybe what we should do is just accept the chaos and tell children the truth – that life is actually a great deal more of a haphazard experience? The “2.4 children dream” is just that – an idealistic concept which happens to neatly fit into the mould of our society. If we grant our children a foundation which could better prepare them, might we see a reduction in broken hearts? Or might it actually reverse the supposed trend of “fickle” behaviour, prove the older generation right and instil a good and proper sense of how precious love is? Well, it is isn't it!? I suppose also, whether you subscribe to the idea of love or not, I think both sides would naturally agree that meeting the right partner is quite a rare and difficult thing. Okay, how am I to use this to help resolve my situation so that I'm not "lost inside" forever? Is it possible that meeting as many women as possible and embracing a future of “one night stands” is the right way forwards? Did the hippy “free love” social movement get it right? Woah.. well, it might sound like fun for a bit, but no.. Let’s apply the brakes a little and reflect that overall romantic love is still maybe a desirable thing which when right makes us all feel good, and usually brings positive change to our nature. I suppose this is what the Dalai Lama points to when he says that he believes that love and compassion are the natural states of man, and not destructive and murderous as is generally perceived. I agree with him that as a species we likely couldn’t have made it this far in such numbers if there weren’t more positive than negative daily deeds in the world (he argues that the bad ones are just more newsworthy.. probably true). Okay, so I think I've just argued myself full circle, back to thinking that perhaps love is generally a good thing after all.. Hmm..
Disregarding religion and arguments of hormonal illusion or not, being in love is an undeniably compelling sensation and maybe from this simple thought we could ultimately argue that this is all life really boils down to - experiences. Given the possibility (likelihood) that there is no god, and we are just one of many statistical occurrences in the universe, I suppose there doesn’t have to be a more profound reason for our sense of living. Like the band “Talk Talk” once said, perhaps life is truly what we make it. If that is the case then ironically this argument may have been pointless, except that it got us to some kind of resolution. One can imagine from a biological point of view that genetic variety is a relatively (no pun intended) healthy thing for the species. Maybe the meeting of physical borders and the inevitable cultural blending is not just something which happens to occur when you fill a planet up with people, but is actually in itself a matter of evolution for mankind, fundamentally connecting both planet and the life on it in a Gaia-esque scenario!? Might love and life-long commitment as natural compulsions actually be evolutionary!? Call it the refinement of human nature? After all, I suppose it’s possible that evolution might not just be purely genetic, but might also encompass the very nature of conscious thought itself (something we still haven’t defined yet).
Well, how about THAT for a conclusion? For an encore let's tackle the true nature and relationship of gravity and magnetism!
I think I need to lie down.. I also think I actually, medically need a girlfriend. If you’ve made it this far through my insane ramblings will you, or someone you know, please help me put an end to all this nonsense that’s running around in my head!? Either point some unsuspecting Asian beauty in my direction, or at least wish me luck.. My Japanese quest begins tomorrow anyway, regardless - the local University is hosting a "Japan Day" cultural festival, and I intend to attend.. Maybe that will be the focus of my next blog.. : )
Peace.
On the morning that I began writing this blog I bumped into a friend - let’s call him ‘Alex’, and save him from any embarrassment by association (lol). Okay, Alex told me that he’d been through a divorce some five years previous, and that it had left him pretty gutted. I’m paraphrasing a little here but he told me that it was his personal belief that once a man reaches a certain age he becomes something of a disposable asset to the fairer sex. After we parted company I continued in contemplation. On my way to a local park for some r’n’r I passed by a wonderful little “Banksy”esque piece of wall art (it may actually be one of Banksy's works) which keeps catching my eye. A message alongside the picture reads “She’s only with you until the next best thing comes along”. I began to follow a disturbing thread which pointed to a possible truth in Alex’s words. Might capitalism have infused itself so deeply into our lives that we have now started to see one other as disposable as, say a broken TV or toaster - to be discarded without so much as a thought beyond the acquisition of the next model? If this is the case it may explain why, in my forlorn state, I feel repelled by my day-to-day social environment and drawn towards alternative cultures which I feel still express a sense of honour in their day to day habits. For me, Japan is one such culture. That Japan is adopting a lot of the western attitudes is also something of a personal worry (and quite likely a source of concern for many Japanese elders), but maybe there is still a chance – maybe I’m not too late. Oh, and I think as I keep mentioning Asian women in so many of my blogs, that now is probably a good time to refute any accusations that I harbour an "Asian fetish" (in the generally held conception of the phrase). Although I have stated that Japan is a cultural choice, I still find given all the world to choose from, that Asian women are quite simply the most naturally beautiful and attractive women to me, full stop. This is something I've discovered about myself and I can't explain it - it's just the way I'm put together. I don't have any fake veneer ready to appease anyone with attitudes lacking in, shall we say 'social harmony', who might look down on me for whatever reason - to them I say "grow up and get over it". I don't have, nor have I ever felt the need to follow a social clique. I take people as I find them, and have no time to entertain any pre-suppositions relating to either my appearance or my life choices. Trust me, in my case looks CAN be deceiving. I am my own man, I harbour an open and inquisitive mind, and people have little choice but to take me as they find me. I can easily think of a few people who would likely testify to this in a court of law right now! : )
Wait. Getting back to the matter at hand (ahem), might there be a fundamental flaw to my view of love? Stepping back to look at the overall picture, I suppose it could be argued that whilst marriage and life-long relationships are indeed very noble pursuits and wonderfully romantic, maybe they aren’t a natural human state? From nature’s perspective it could be reasoned that we are socially designed to come together for the explicit reason of procreation – to bear as many offspring as is possible. If this is true, might people actually be psychologically compelled to seek out someone new once the offspring are “grown up”? Bad news for long-lived romances, but it might explain divorce generally, and maybe even point to a component of natural compulsion behind the mid-life crisis (well, beyond the very palpable fear of running out of life). As I write it now fills me with horror to think that what I have sought all my life, and feel somehow lost without, could actually be unnatural. Perversely, I might further condemn my dream by arguing that divorce isn’t some new side effect of modern life, as the elder generation might have you believe. They argue that they have a moral superiority to our modern, fickle attitudes, but with respect for all they had to put up with there is a great deal more human history than the “war years” and broken hearts have been with us for a very long time. Scarily enough, the implication from all this is that my search for everlasting love might be a fruitless search – am I looking for something which doesn’t actually exist? I think we need to take a closer look..
Whether you believe that religions derived from a man or a god, it is still a fact that their main purpose seems to be to act as a force for stability in society. Isn’t it possible to argue that marriage is simply one of the many social sub-paragraphs of religion which tries to shame us into sticking it out with one person, to have and to hold from this day forwards, in sickness and health, until parted by death? Is the concept of marriage an attempt to seek order in chaos by reinforcing a social lie, against the true nature of mankind? Similarly, general education and the media seeks to have us believe that a “normal” life consists of us going through school and into employment to sustain our well-being, where we can look forward to pairing up with a man/woman and get a house, have children and live happily ever after (the social lie I postulate). Maybe what we should do is just accept the chaos and tell children the truth – that life is actually a great deal more of a haphazard experience? The “2.4 children dream” is just that – an idealistic concept which happens to neatly fit into the mould of our society. If we grant our children a foundation which could better prepare them, might we see a reduction in broken hearts? Or might it actually reverse the supposed trend of “fickle” behaviour, prove the older generation right and instil a good and proper sense of how precious love is? Well, it is isn't it!? I suppose also, whether you subscribe to the idea of love or not, I think both sides would naturally agree that meeting the right partner is quite a rare and difficult thing. Okay, how am I to use this to help resolve my situation so that I'm not "lost inside" forever? Is it possible that meeting as many women as possible and embracing a future of “one night stands” is the right way forwards? Did the hippy “free love” social movement get it right? Woah.. well, it might sound like fun for a bit, but no.. Let’s apply the brakes a little and reflect that overall romantic love is still maybe a desirable thing which when right makes us all feel good, and usually brings positive change to our nature. I suppose this is what the Dalai Lama points to when he says that he believes that love and compassion are the natural states of man, and not destructive and murderous as is generally perceived. I agree with him that as a species we likely couldn’t have made it this far in such numbers if there weren’t more positive than negative daily deeds in the world (he argues that the bad ones are just more newsworthy.. probably true). Okay, so I think I've just argued myself full circle, back to thinking that perhaps love is generally a good thing after all.. Hmm..
Disregarding religion and arguments of hormonal illusion or not, being in love is an undeniably compelling sensation and maybe from this simple thought we could ultimately argue that this is all life really boils down to - experiences. Given the possibility (likelihood) that there is no god, and we are just one of many statistical occurrences in the universe, I suppose there doesn’t have to be a more profound reason for our sense of living. Like the band “Talk Talk” once said, perhaps life is truly what we make it. If that is the case then ironically this argument may have been pointless, except that it got us to some kind of resolution. One can imagine from a biological point of view that genetic variety is a relatively (no pun intended) healthy thing for the species. Maybe the meeting of physical borders and the inevitable cultural blending is not just something which happens to occur when you fill a planet up with people, but is actually in itself a matter of evolution for mankind, fundamentally connecting both planet and the life on it in a Gaia-esque scenario!? Might love and life-long commitment as natural compulsions actually be evolutionary!? Call it the refinement of human nature? After all, I suppose it’s possible that evolution might not just be purely genetic, but might also encompass the very nature of conscious thought itself (something we still haven’t defined yet).
Well, how about THAT for a conclusion? For an encore let's tackle the true nature and relationship of gravity and magnetism!
I think I need to lie down.. I also think I actually, medically need a girlfriend. If you’ve made it this far through my insane ramblings will you, or someone you know, please help me put an end to all this nonsense that’s running around in my head!? Either point some unsuspecting Asian beauty in my direction, or at least wish me luck.. My Japanese quest begins tomorrow anyway, regardless - the local University is hosting a "Japan Day" cultural festival, and I intend to attend.. Maybe that will be the focus of my next blog.. : )
Peace.
Thursday 22 April 2010
Dead Time
Forgive my indulgence on this matter, but this is a blog site and it is likely to contain a smattering of both personal and practical insights. This is a very personal one, but I’m hoping that by writing this it will perhaps find a common soul, or maybe in some way alleviate the horrible symptoms I’m feeling but not really resolving.
After my recent entanglement with a broken heart 7000 miles from home I thought I’d managed to cope with it quite well. My cheeriness at my apparent successful handling of this personal crisis was it seems a little premature. Following my return journey I had roughly two weeks of holiday still to enjoy, and all things considered I spent it quite well. I can tell you that this strange recovery was isolated to the holiday period. Having returned to work, and my default emotional state, I find an incredible weight of sadness and worry has consumed me - a darkness I’d hoped never to feel again after the last time. I knew I wasn’t going to enjoy returning to work. It’s never a particularly enjoyable thing for anyone when they’ve had freedom and time to be themselves (even a break as uneven as the one I’ve just experienced) but in concert with what I suspected was a heart healed too easily, I find that it has come as a real shock to return to my old life. You see, for six months prior to the holiday I had cultivated this glorious long distance relationship with a wonderful girl. In one very important way it felt better than a conventional relationship in that by virtue of it being “long distance” it forced me to work and appreciate the “person” I thought I was getting to know, free of any immediate physical distractions to coerce my heart - the achilles heel of any male. This only made the very real emotions in my words, and her replies, all the more potent. In retrospect I have discovered that the pain inherent to all relationships can take on more forms than one might immediately imagine. From start to end all I had managed to focus on was the personal exchange, and in doing so I really believed in the connection which was unfolding. Her photos gave some hint that she was attractive physically of course, but without actually standing before her those looks seemed somehow quite secondary to the matters speaking from the heart, which I was certainly doing - by the ton.
It feels as though I am living one of those strange Faustian parables, delivered with a bittersweet punchline in the way only the stories from the Twilight Zone or the old Hammer horror anthologies can - like the man who asked for eternal life, and finds himself one day still miraculously alive and unable to die after a horrifyingly nasty accident. Here I am, living the ironic parable. “Okay son”, Cupid says to me, “You’ve wanted to feel a perfect love so badly all your life, here you are – have it”. For six months it is breathtaking, at times feeling so overwhelming in its intensity as to drive me almost mad with pleasure. It then gets taken away and I’m pushed back into my prison. “What’s wrong?” says Cupid, “You wanted to know what love feels like, and now you can say you tasted it in your life, can’t you?”. As a man who tries to guide his life by Buddhist principles of compassion, tolerance and understanding I don't generally condone violence, but if someone tells you that "it's better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all" please punch some sense into them. After the subsequent events and my return home I concentrated on the “firsts” which I had survived/experienced and took some pride in them – I still do. My failure was in not anticipating the strength of the massive emotional fallout yet to come. Every day now I am back to looking at my old boring self in the mirror, the single romantic, going through the repeating, five day alternating existence of work, home and sleep - my own personal prison. Truthfully, the last four days have been the hardest I have had in a long time. By the way I feel even as I write this I have a very real worry that my heart may have been pushed a little too far this time, and with respect to the few friends I do have I fear also that this time I am more alone in this particular dark episode than I have ever been. There is another all too familiar harmonic dischord though this – an emotional numbness which leaves me walking through my days like an emotional zombie. At this point I have to say that only someone who doesn’t really understand this feeling (or lack of) can possibly tell me in their own frustrations to “chill out”. With respect to the friend who asked this of me, this statement is a little like telling someone how to use a hammer after they’ve hit their thumb. Aside from the crushing despair I keep getting in waves, all I know is a horrible emptiness. Something might catch me out temporarily, and I smile (I am normally prone to taking an absurd amount of pleasure from seemingly trivial things), but it passes quickly. I then return to this strange emotional limbo I find myself in – a mental whirlwind of frustration where I can see my entire life from this point onwards being a drawn-out hurt, filled with beauty of great potential which simply moves on by. These are familiar old teenage emotional scars I am facing - being able to talk with women quite freely until I meet with one who is instinctively attractive (a very rare thing), whereupon my personality and character evaporate and I’m left unable to be my jovial fun self, and forced to watch as they slip away out of reach to the future arms and life of someone more fortunate, leaving me untouched, unheld, unkissed and alone. Even with all that I’ve seen and done in my life, I still can’t seem to overcome these old emotional blocks which seem to persistently steer me away from that which I want most in life – the very basic human need to love and be loved. In this state I find myself in, it seems that my heart’s natural resistance to western women and desire to find love within the Asian culture is an evermore hopeless dream. As I think back I fear that it is true that I’ve always simply fallen luckily (or unluckily) into any relationships which I’ve had in my life. I also fear that I will always be this same old timid person with so much to give, and yet so easily crippled by beauty. To never have that control in my life when I most need it, and to feel that my life is predestined to always be this way is a terrifying prospect. Part of the deal I made with myself in life is that I would never take love for granted and in spite of the way in which my life appears to have played out thus far, in my own heart I don't think I have. I've always tried to appreciate every moment which I suppose makes it all the harder to tolerate. Although I am told that I am still young at 38, I feel my time is running out. This is why I can almost cry – except that for the moment my unfeeling state won’t even allow me this simple release.
After my recent entanglement with a broken heart 7000 miles from home I thought I’d managed to cope with it quite well. My cheeriness at my apparent successful handling of this personal crisis was it seems a little premature. Following my return journey I had roughly two weeks of holiday still to enjoy, and all things considered I spent it quite well. I can tell you that this strange recovery was isolated to the holiday period. Having returned to work, and my default emotional state, I find an incredible weight of sadness and worry has consumed me - a darkness I’d hoped never to feel again after the last time. I knew I wasn’t going to enjoy returning to work. It’s never a particularly enjoyable thing for anyone when they’ve had freedom and time to be themselves (even a break as uneven as the one I’ve just experienced) but in concert with what I suspected was a heart healed too easily, I find that it has come as a real shock to return to my old life. You see, for six months prior to the holiday I had cultivated this glorious long distance relationship with a wonderful girl. In one very important way it felt better than a conventional relationship in that by virtue of it being “long distance” it forced me to work and appreciate the “person” I thought I was getting to know, free of any immediate physical distractions to coerce my heart - the achilles heel of any male. This only made the very real emotions in my words, and her replies, all the more potent. In retrospect I have discovered that the pain inherent to all relationships can take on more forms than one might immediately imagine. From start to end all I had managed to focus on was the personal exchange, and in doing so I really believed in the connection which was unfolding. Her photos gave some hint that she was attractive physically of course, but without actually standing before her those looks seemed somehow quite secondary to the matters speaking from the heart, which I was certainly doing - by the ton.
It feels as though I am living one of those strange Faustian parables, delivered with a bittersweet punchline in the way only the stories from the Twilight Zone or the old Hammer horror anthologies can - like the man who asked for eternal life, and finds himself one day still miraculously alive and unable to die after a horrifyingly nasty accident. Here I am, living the ironic parable. “Okay son”, Cupid says to me, “You’ve wanted to feel a perfect love so badly all your life, here you are – have it”. For six months it is breathtaking, at times feeling so overwhelming in its intensity as to drive me almost mad with pleasure. It then gets taken away and I’m pushed back into my prison. “What’s wrong?” says Cupid, “You wanted to know what love feels like, and now you can say you tasted it in your life, can’t you?”. As a man who tries to guide his life by Buddhist principles of compassion, tolerance and understanding I don't generally condone violence, but if someone tells you that "it's better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all" please punch some sense into them. After the subsequent events and my return home I concentrated on the “firsts” which I had survived/experienced and took some pride in them – I still do. My failure was in not anticipating the strength of the massive emotional fallout yet to come. Every day now I am back to looking at my old boring self in the mirror, the single romantic, going through the repeating, five day alternating existence of work, home and sleep - my own personal prison. Truthfully, the last four days have been the hardest I have had in a long time. By the way I feel even as I write this I have a very real worry that my heart may have been pushed a little too far this time, and with respect to the few friends I do have I fear also that this time I am more alone in this particular dark episode than I have ever been. There is another all too familiar harmonic dischord though this – an emotional numbness which leaves me walking through my days like an emotional zombie. At this point I have to say that only someone who doesn’t really understand this feeling (or lack of) can possibly tell me in their own frustrations to “chill out”. With respect to the friend who asked this of me, this statement is a little like telling someone how to use a hammer after they’ve hit their thumb. Aside from the crushing despair I keep getting in waves, all I know is a horrible emptiness. Something might catch me out temporarily, and I smile (I am normally prone to taking an absurd amount of pleasure from seemingly trivial things), but it passes quickly. I then return to this strange emotional limbo I find myself in – a mental whirlwind of frustration where I can see my entire life from this point onwards being a drawn-out hurt, filled with beauty of great potential which simply moves on by. These are familiar old teenage emotional scars I am facing - being able to talk with women quite freely until I meet with one who is instinctively attractive (a very rare thing), whereupon my personality and character evaporate and I’m left unable to be my jovial fun self, and forced to watch as they slip away out of reach to the future arms and life of someone more fortunate, leaving me untouched, unheld, unkissed and alone. Even with all that I’ve seen and done in my life, I still can’t seem to overcome these old emotional blocks which seem to persistently steer me away from that which I want most in life – the very basic human need to love and be loved. In this state I find myself in, it seems that my heart’s natural resistance to western women and desire to find love within the Asian culture is an evermore hopeless dream. As I think back I fear that it is true that I’ve always simply fallen luckily (or unluckily) into any relationships which I’ve had in my life. I also fear that I will always be this same old timid person with so much to give, and yet so easily crippled by beauty. To never have that control in my life when I most need it, and to feel that my life is predestined to always be this way is a terrifying prospect. Part of the deal I made with myself in life is that I would never take love for granted and in spite of the way in which my life appears to have played out thus far, in my own heart I don't think I have. I've always tried to appreciate every moment which I suppose makes it all the harder to tolerate. Although I am told that I am still young at 38, I feel my time is running out. This is why I can almost cry – except that for the moment my unfeeling state won’t even allow me this simple release.
Thursday 15 April 2010
Love and the Individual
Being yourself is something of a double edged sword.
From the outset I never sought to place myself in the position I find myself in – a single person who feels on the whole very lonely. Who would? As I reflect more on the recent love lost (whether it was real or imagined is for another blog), and indeed on all of my relationships and hopes for future personal happiness, it seems even more evident to me that it is very hard to live your life in a way which is both truly honest to yourself and still generally acceptable to others. The two just don’t seem to gel at the moment. I’d be the first to point out that I’m throwing stones in a glasshouse. My own life to date hasn’t exactly been exemplary with respect to getting it right first time. We each have our crosses to bear where personal mistakes are concerned and I suppose we each have to find our own way of dealing with them, but as I sit here mulling things over I can’t help but feel that society stacks the odds against us all from the beginning. In the West (and particularly here in the UK) life is hypocritically portrayed as something to behold, with freedom and opportunity for all – no social exclusion. Well as I see it, aside from the fact that we clearly AREN’T all equal or in a position to be capable of having it all (I’m sorry, but someone who is totally paralysed is not going to make it as a true long-distance runner, no matter how many equal opportunity forms the PC brigade print), that “freedom and opportunity, complete with happiness” package comes with an ironic price attached – yes, social exclusion. For my part in this I’m going to metaphorically overlook the long-distance paraplegic sprinter to get to the fundamental issue of “relationships” as my example, as this is foremost on my mind.
In an effort to attract a mate it is typically the looks which get the attention (ie. the most attractive woman/man they would choose to be seen with rather than necessarily the RIGHT person). People may then generally choose to be brave and show themselves as they are, or apply a character ‘veneer’. They may do this either because of peer pressure, or a conscious choice to focus on money/status/looks of the potential mate as motivators rather than any of the true motivators for mutual attraction. This immediately presents a personality apart from their natural self. If the target of their affections chooses to do their self a similar disservice, is it any wonder that relationships keep failing on the scale we see? To meet the bull head-on as it were, if our truly compatible mates are really so physically undesirable, well maybe that would be different if the poor “unfortunate looker’s” personal self-worth wasn’t being crushed or misguided by a society obsessed with career, money and celebrity, and lacking in a proper, personal education for the good of the individual? Surely we would take pride in ourselves rather than feel the need for personal abuse in our united unhappiness. Personally, I suspect this may go some way towards explaining the high incidence of divorce and general malcontent which seems to exist in many relationships. These blindsided issues are usually further exacerbated down the line by couples trying to paper over the cracks and rebuff any nagging doubts with the ultimate commitment status symbol of children, who inevitably pay the price themselves by maturing within a ‘forced’ family unit – forced until divorce or murder ensues. Older generations have typically attributed it to a failing in the younger generations that they don’t persevere. Whilst this may be true to a degree (a world war and physical absence between partners is a very good motivator for appreciating the moment to be sure) I’m not totally convinced that life is so casual at the interpersonal level. Even in times of crisis lovers still experience their share of arguments. No, I think the overall problem we have here ladies and gentlemen is a disguised form of social engineering, itself motivated by either a desire to sustain an unworkable system, make money, and damn the moral consequences, or more likely both.
I can only really speak for the seventy million or so people in the UK as these are the people I experience on a daily basis, but I find it hard to believe that the vast majority really share an overwhelming interest in sport (mainly football), soaps, fame, beer and curry, without external driving forces. Why do we as individuals seem to have a fear of expressing our true selves to one another? The survival instinct encourages homogeneity for sure so grouping is inevitable, but with society in such a relatively comfortable position as it has ever been in, why are we drawn en masse to the banal rather than inspired by the extraordinary possibilities which we each might live? It’s also a truism that humans have a natural tendency to take the line of least resistance, but surely we would be more content existing as people with unique stories? It could be argued that this is the ultimate expression of the desirable side to ‘anarchy’ – and let it be said right here that I believe most people who fear anarchy are likely mistaking it for ‘nihilism’, the unnecessarily barbaric end of chaos rather than personal freedom, not that anarchy couldn’t probably benefit from some small refinement. As I relate this problem through my modest insights into Buddhism I think I can see a Catch 22. The solution would come from our collectively doing the right thing and trusting in the natural order of things by tending first to ourselves - positive selfish motivation, so that we are first and foremost true to ourselves. This then prepares our individual foundations for our contact with people as we travel the coveted ‘path of least resistance’. Maybe this would in itself help alleviate a lot of the underlying irritating feelings we have in our lives, feelings which we have trouble putting our fingers on when we feel discontent, the itch we can’t scratch – ‘What’s wrong with you?’ someone says, ‘I just don’t know’ comes the reply. Maybe we CAN see the problem, but we just choose to ignore it by having elections and letting others take the reins - letting go of personal social responsibility (which comes back to the arguable position of anarchy, which demands personal responsibility at a social level). But who wants to be the first to take individual responsibility? Still, by continuing to resist this responsibility the problem perpetuates and nothing in our lives can ever hope to settle satisfactorily – since when does someone else truly know what’s best for you? Thus people such as myself, who do try to learn from mistakes (despite the irony of going against society’s grain by taking the true path in life), have an especially difficult time of it because we not only have the normal day to day issues to contend with, but (for example) in trying to find happiness with a partner we also have an additional layer of social difficulty because of people playing ‘love games’, possibly denying many people the true, loving connection they deserve. Indeed, we can all aspire to better things – we can all be Johnny Depp, Neil Armstrong, the Dalai Lama - anyone we admire. I haven’t met any of them, but I’ll be willing to bet that when they aren’t doing their “thing” which we know them for, they really ARE normal people behind the scenes – to be the iconic figure 24/7 would drive you insane (and for some this has been the case, yes?). We each have a chance to be an extraordinary individual if we choose, rather than becoming bad copies or clones. Even being ordinary would leave one more contented than being fake wouldn’t it!?
For me, I think this may be why I generally have a hard time living in the society I am stuck in, especially when I am seeking something as simple as true love to help make me feel complete. That’s likely to be the truth at the heart of all this. We’re all stuck - it’s just a matter of whether we really feel and see it, or not. Ignorance may be bliss in this case. Surrounded as I am by people unwilling or unable to be themselves I find the only solution open to me is to seek a lesser-tainted culture for a soulmate, a task which is getting harder every day with rampant globalisation. As has often been said in my ramblings, I believe my true heart lies in Japan, no matter how much I might try to consider otherwise for conveniences’ sake. The main backlash I have read to counter this reasoning for looking beyond my own culture is “If you find you don’t like women in your own culture how can you hope to find love anywhere else? Surely you just have an issue with women generally?”. Not so. I always thought women were the feminine balance to the masculine side of the equation. Today, UK western women seem to feel incomplete unless they can be seen to be wielding personal power like a man, or else they aspire to become one of the many baby-making dole monsters out there, who for my tastes, excepting biological reasons, don’t deserve to be called women. Similarly, whilst I don’t condemn men for seeking a softer side to their personalities to inspire compassion and understanding where a club would have served as well the past, I certainly haven’t felt inspired by any present leaders. Even the arguments relating to pro and anti-homosexual outlooks can’t be honestly swept aside, for if anything they are simply examples of people expressing their true natures, which in this blog would seem to be a laudable thing. To condemn one relationship orientation would mean in this context to condemn all relations. Regardless of how you view it, it is just people expressing themselves freely – exactly what we want to encourage. The villain here is probably the over-exuberance with which alternative lifestyles are forced into the public arena (more social engineering agendas there too I think). I suppose you can pick your pigeonhole for anyone of the fakes out there, and trust me when I say I HATE pigeonholes. As you might imagine from my pictures people usually put me in one every time they meet me, which is about the only reason why I still feel ethically open to the possibility of finding a western soul mate, in spite of the odds.
You know, when we get to the heart of the matter I think a lack of credible role models is a very serious vacuum, which has been sorely overlooked. Is there any wonder that the more extreme, darker side of society would serve heroes up in such a capacity to redress the balance for the socially alienated? Oh, and for those who might seek to pipe up with an old chestnut at this point, let’s put this one to bed right here. it isn’t video games or films which make society violent, it’s more likely the lack of heroes and role models in real life which gives the fantasy characters such a lease of power. Blaming either the creator(s) or the actual film or video game itself is like blaming the hammer when you hit your thumb. The true fault in this case is the consequence of the action or inaction, not the instigator. Sadly, I believe it’s evermore ironic that it’s the truly rebellious side in humanity which is sustaining us as a species at the moment. Then again, maybe that’s always been the case. Surprises usually come our way when someone tries something without knowing it should be impossible.
This plague which has been running through our society which is making it a respectable thing to run from your true nature needs dealing with, now. Where the hell would an idea like that come from in the first place? Maybe from a society run by a lunatic minority who want to sit in their ivory towers, who force ‘square’ people into ‘round’ holes to satisfy their own demands, too afraid to trust in having individuality at the helm? Surely we are each best at what we are? Wouldn’t it be ironic to think that society may be better served by the individual excelling rather than straight-jacketed, badly educated clones?
Hmm.. This all still all leaves me with the problem of finding my one, true love though doesn’t it?
From the outset I never sought to place myself in the position I find myself in – a single person who feels on the whole very lonely. Who would? As I reflect more on the recent love lost (whether it was real or imagined is for another blog), and indeed on all of my relationships and hopes for future personal happiness, it seems even more evident to me that it is very hard to live your life in a way which is both truly honest to yourself and still generally acceptable to others. The two just don’t seem to gel at the moment. I’d be the first to point out that I’m throwing stones in a glasshouse. My own life to date hasn’t exactly been exemplary with respect to getting it right first time. We each have our crosses to bear where personal mistakes are concerned and I suppose we each have to find our own way of dealing with them, but as I sit here mulling things over I can’t help but feel that society stacks the odds against us all from the beginning. In the West (and particularly here in the UK) life is hypocritically portrayed as something to behold, with freedom and opportunity for all – no social exclusion. Well as I see it, aside from the fact that we clearly AREN’T all equal or in a position to be capable of having it all (I’m sorry, but someone who is totally paralysed is not going to make it as a true long-distance runner, no matter how many equal opportunity forms the PC brigade print), that “freedom and opportunity, complete with happiness” package comes with an ironic price attached – yes, social exclusion. For my part in this I’m going to metaphorically overlook the long-distance paraplegic sprinter to get to the fundamental issue of “relationships” as my example, as this is foremost on my mind.
In an effort to attract a mate it is typically the looks which get the attention (ie. the most attractive woman/man they would choose to be seen with rather than necessarily the RIGHT person). People may then generally choose to be brave and show themselves as they are, or apply a character ‘veneer’. They may do this either because of peer pressure, or a conscious choice to focus on money/status/looks of the potential mate as motivators rather than any of the true motivators for mutual attraction. This immediately presents a personality apart from their natural self. If the target of their affections chooses to do their self a similar disservice, is it any wonder that relationships keep failing on the scale we see? To meet the bull head-on as it were, if our truly compatible mates are really so physically undesirable, well maybe that would be different if the poor “unfortunate looker’s” personal self-worth wasn’t being crushed or misguided by a society obsessed with career, money and celebrity, and lacking in a proper, personal education for the good of the individual? Surely we would take pride in ourselves rather than feel the need for personal abuse in our united unhappiness. Personally, I suspect this may go some way towards explaining the high incidence of divorce and general malcontent which seems to exist in many relationships. These blindsided issues are usually further exacerbated down the line by couples trying to paper over the cracks and rebuff any nagging doubts with the ultimate commitment status symbol of children, who inevitably pay the price themselves by maturing within a ‘forced’ family unit – forced until divorce or murder ensues. Older generations have typically attributed it to a failing in the younger generations that they don’t persevere. Whilst this may be true to a degree (a world war and physical absence between partners is a very good motivator for appreciating the moment to be sure) I’m not totally convinced that life is so casual at the interpersonal level. Even in times of crisis lovers still experience their share of arguments. No, I think the overall problem we have here ladies and gentlemen is a disguised form of social engineering, itself motivated by either a desire to sustain an unworkable system, make money, and damn the moral consequences, or more likely both.
I can only really speak for the seventy million or so people in the UK as these are the people I experience on a daily basis, but I find it hard to believe that the vast majority really share an overwhelming interest in sport (mainly football), soaps, fame, beer and curry, without external driving forces. Why do we as individuals seem to have a fear of expressing our true selves to one another? The survival instinct encourages homogeneity for sure so grouping is inevitable, but with society in such a relatively comfortable position as it has ever been in, why are we drawn en masse to the banal rather than inspired by the extraordinary possibilities which we each might live? It’s also a truism that humans have a natural tendency to take the line of least resistance, but surely we would be more content existing as people with unique stories? It could be argued that this is the ultimate expression of the desirable side to ‘anarchy’ – and let it be said right here that I believe most people who fear anarchy are likely mistaking it for ‘nihilism’, the unnecessarily barbaric end of chaos rather than personal freedom, not that anarchy couldn’t probably benefit from some small refinement. As I relate this problem through my modest insights into Buddhism I think I can see a Catch 22. The solution would come from our collectively doing the right thing and trusting in the natural order of things by tending first to ourselves - positive selfish motivation, so that we are first and foremost true to ourselves. This then prepares our individual foundations for our contact with people as we travel the coveted ‘path of least resistance’. Maybe this would in itself help alleviate a lot of the underlying irritating feelings we have in our lives, feelings which we have trouble putting our fingers on when we feel discontent, the itch we can’t scratch – ‘What’s wrong with you?’ someone says, ‘I just don’t know’ comes the reply. Maybe we CAN see the problem, but we just choose to ignore it by having elections and letting others take the reins - letting go of personal social responsibility (which comes back to the arguable position of anarchy, which demands personal responsibility at a social level). But who wants to be the first to take individual responsibility? Still, by continuing to resist this responsibility the problem perpetuates and nothing in our lives can ever hope to settle satisfactorily – since when does someone else truly know what’s best for you? Thus people such as myself, who do try to learn from mistakes (despite the irony of going against society’s grain by taking the true path in life), have an especially difficult time of it because we not only have the normal day to day issues to contend with, but (for example) in trying to find happiness with a partner we also have an additional layer of social difficulty because of people playing ‘love games’, possibly denying many people the true, loving connection they deserve. Indeed, we can all aspire to better things – we can all be Johnny Depp, Neil Armstrong, the Dalai Lama - anyone we admire. I haven’t met any of them, but I’ll be willing to bet that when they aren’t doing their “thing” which we know them for, they really ARE normal people behind the scenes – to be the iconic figure 24/7 would drive you insane (and for some this has been the case, yes?). We each have a chance to be an extraordinary individual if we choose, rather than becoming bad copies or clones. Even being ordinary would leave one more contented than being fake wouldn’t it!?
For me, I think this may be why I generally have a hard time living in the society I am stuck in, especially when I am seeking something as simple as true love to help make me feel complete. That’s likely to be the truth at the heart of all this. We’re all stuck - it’s just a matter of whether we really feel and see it, or not. Ignorance may be bliss in this case. Surrounded as I am by people unwilling or unable to be themselves I find the only solution open to me is to seek a lesser-tainted culture for a soulmate, a task which is getting harder every day with rampant globalisation. As has often been said in my ramblings, I believe my true heart lies in Japan, no matter how much I might try to consider otherwise for conveniences’ sake. The main backlash I have read to counter this reasoning for looking beyond my own culture is “If you find you don’t like women in your own culture how can you hope to find love anywhere else? Surely you just have an issue with women generally?”. Not so. I always thought women were the feminine balance to the masculine side of the equation. Today, UK western women seem to feel incomplete unless they can be seen to be wielding personal power like a man, or else they aspire to become one of the many baby-making dole monsters out there, who for my tastes, excepting biological reasons, don’t deserve to be called women. Similarly, whilst I don’t condemn men for seeking a softer side to their personalities to inspire compassion and understanding where a club would have served as well the past, I certainly haven’t felt inspired by any present leaders. Even the arguments relating to pro and anti-homosexual outlooks can’t be honestly swept aside, for if anything they are simply examples of people expressing their true natures, which in this blog would seem to be a laudable thing. To condemn one relationship orientation would mean in this context to condemn all relations. Regardless of how you view it, it is just people expressing themselves freely – exactly what we want to encourage. The villain here is probably the over-exuberance with which alternative lifestyles are forced into the public arena (more social engineering agendas there too I think). I suppose you can pick your pigeonhole for anyone of the fakes out there, and trust me when I say I HATE pigeonholes. As you might imagine from my pictures people usually put me in one every time they meet me, which is about the only reason why I still feel ethically open to the possibility of finding a western soul mate, in spite of the odds.
You know, when we get to the heart of the matter I think a lack of credible role models is a very serious vacuum, which has been sorely overlooked. Is there any wonder that the more extreme, darker side of society would serve heroes up in such a capacity to redress the balance for the socially alienated? Oh, and for those who might seek to pipe up with an old chestnut at this point, let’s put this one to bed right here. it isn’t video games or films which make society violent, it’s more likely the lack of heroes and role models in real life which gives the fantasy characters such a lease of power. Blaming either the creator(s) or the actual film or video game itself is like blaming the hammer when you hit your thumb. The true fault in this case is the consequence of the action or inaction, not the instigator. Sadly, I believe it’s evermore ironic that it’s the truly rebellious side in humanity which is sustaining us as a species at the moment. Then again, maybe that’s always been the case. Surprises usually come our way when someone tries something without knowing it should be impossible.
This plague which has been running through our society which is making it a respectable thing to run from your true nature needs dealing with, now. Where the hell would an idea like that come from in the first place? Maybe from a society run by a lunatic minority who want to sit in their ivory towers, who force ‘square’ people into ‘round’ holes to satisfy their own demands, too afraid to trust in having individuality at the helm? Surely we are each best at what we are? Wouldn’t it be ironic to think that society may be better served by the individual excelling rather than straight-jacketed, badly educated clones?
Hmm.. This all still all leaves me with the problem of finding my one, true love though doesn’t it?
Monday 12 April 2010
How Far Will You Go? (Part 2)
Well, time DID have the last word.. within roughly two hours. I was determined that part 2 was not going to begin with “well that was interesting..”, but..
Well, that was interesting. The big questions regarding “why” are just too numerous to argue here but it’s sufficient to say that the holiday did not last as long, nor go as I’d expected, and believe me I had considered a fair few possible outcomes as part of my preparations.
I made good my escape from Britain. For anyone about to enter Amsterdam’s Schiphol Airport for the first time, relax. It is both sensibly designed and something of a treat with its shops and amenities – almost worth a holiday in itself. Do allow yourself at least thirty minutes to traverse its entire length though - and considerably more time if you fancy exploring. The flight to Manila, whilst long was also very pleasant as these things go. It was my first truly long-haul flight but it worked pretty well. I recommend setting your watch to your destination time as soon as you board your long-haul plane, and adjust your mindset to this new time as soon and as painlessly as you can. I’d also like to take a moment here to endorse KLM Dutch Airlines for their in-flight facilities, light but damn good airline food and graciously attentive staff.
Manila itself is a curious city, almost continental in feel - yes, definitely the spanish influence. The overall impression I got was rightfully one of a city which had been constructed over a very long period of time. Whilst perfectly capable, the indigenous culture did seem at odds with their environment, as though they’d been given the city without asking for one and were now making the most of it. I should add this impression is personal to me, reasoned as it is with only a mere 24 hours of experience, so my apologies to any Filipinos left with a feeling of misrepresentation. I sat in the arrivals area at the front of Ninoy Aquino Airport (NAIA) feeling as if I were on an auction block as hundreds of Filipina’s stared at me as they awaited the arrival of their own friends and families. It’s likely a safe bet that they don’t get too many long blonde-haired British guys sitting in the waiting area. An attendant assisted me in finding my girl, who duly turned up (complete with a taxi and driver), so the dreaded “no show” was off the cards at least. She’d just arrived back from her parent’s that morning and managed to do a complete 360 to get here in time to meet me, only a little late really to be fair. She’d said she was petite but she was actually more so than even I’d imagined, not so much under my chin as up to my chest. It has to be said she was also vastly cuter than even her pictures had made her out to be. I've been told by my friend that it's a bad idea to compare any girl you are dating with anyone else (he's right of course), but I have to say her eyes were simply stunning - somewhat akin to Zhang Ziyi's striking looks in "Memoirs of a Geisha". I was all smiles.
The anticipated “stop-start-stop-screeching tyres-horn” behaviour ensued for the next twenty minutes as we hunted for the hotel. I had an address but that didn’t prevent the taxi driver from having to consult my web map and a couple of loitering traffic police officers – the cost was a very reasonable £4 or so for the five miles, plus multiple confused trips backwards and forwards along a few of the same roads several times (UK taxi drivers take note!). Eventually we found the place – it didn’t look a thing like its pictures, but show me a hotel which does. It was a simple three-level building on a typical street, two entrances front and back, and a covered but airy courtyard leading to the lobby. I had no idea where the advertised pool was supposed to be - on the roof perhaps? We checked-in, I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, unpacked my case, freshened up and basked in the delightful air-conditioning as we chatted. I asked her if she intended to continue with her plan to stay with me or commute from her home here in the city. She said she’d stay as planned but she obviously needed to go home, collect her belongings and return - within the hour. We went to get her a taxi and after she’d left I had a quick chat with the hotel security guard out front about the trip, the coming holiday and the awesome heat – I suppose we Brits talk about the weather wherever we are. I retired to the room and reorganised my unpacking to make room for her belongings. Imagine my surprise when she phoned twenty minutes or so later to say that her Dad had called to announce the arrival of an aunt from Chicago at their home some 350 miles away, and told her to come home. Imagine further my incredulous expressions at her blind obedience to his demands and her apologies before hanging up, leaving me alone in a strange city half way around the world and with a distinct lack of purpose. You may now be imagining that this didn’t go down terribly well with me. You’d be right.
I went to the communal sitting area on the same floor and sat in the heat, which seemed somehow less tolerable now. I sat drinking my warm water, overlooking the courtyard, trying to figure out what had just happened and why. As a momentary distraction I noted the courtyard felt very Cuban in design - wrought iron balconies and wooden-shuttered windows. A girl appeared from nowhere and sat down at the opposite end of the room, lit a cigarette and chilled out with her back to me – not very sociable. As I contemplated the possibility of salvaging something from the clusterf**k I found myself in I noted a sign at the foot of some more stairs leading upwards, saying that the hotel pool was closed for repairs. Did someone want to kick me in the nuts for good measure? The smoking girl disappeared. Some more hotel staff wandered back and forth. No other guests appeared at this time – maybe there weren’t any. No one appeared for nut-cracking duties. I retired to my room and looked at my unpacked items. Locking up, I dropped my key off at reception and went for a walk.
For a city which was supposed to be a nightmare for both pedestrians and drivers alike it had quietened down considerably – it was holy week I suppose. The place looked like set of a zombie film. It was still and virtually empty, with vehicles parked at all angles and in all places. For thirty minutes I pottered about, and in that time I saw five jeepneys, a handful of cars and a small number of people (some walking and talking quietly, some laid on the pavement asleep, some sat around smiling and looking distant as though awaiting Armageddon). The sun was too strong to be out in, so I retired once more to the hotel and looked at my stuff again. At a loss I wandered to the lobby and spotted a couple of computers – the Internet. With a link with to the world I’d left behind I set about popping in for a chat. The hotel security guard logged me in and I let friends know the state of play. Much confusion and surprise rattled back and forth across the net as I explained what had happened and what I was contemplating. With neither the heart nor (strictly-speaking) the funds for two weeks of reckless island hopping/exploration I re-packed my belongings and within twenty two hours I was not only once more “single”, but also on a relatively hastily-arranged flight home, unaware of the masses of emails offering local help in the wake of my ‘post-dump’ Facebook and forum conversations - I was not to discover these offers until my second stopover at Schiphol, thirteen hours later.
The return journey suffered from a similar littering of inexplicable gaps in reason, both good and bad – the great speed with which we both got back to and through Manchester Aiport (landed, repatriated and stood in the train station with all my baggage intact in 20 mins!), the lack of ANY trains from Manchester to Sheffield at 10pm on a Saturday night, even from Manchester Airport (consider yourself warned), the expensive but available hotels (well, that they would be available when they were charging £235 per night - consider yourself warned again). One excellent side effect to this whole episode however was the chance to finally meet my friend Mike and his Japanese wife Junco, who kindly gave me a roof for the night in Macclesfield and a lift to the train station the following morning to complete my ordeal. I paid them in kind with a couple of my holiday gifts. As befits efforts to travel in the UK the train from Macclesfield to Manchester Picadilly turned into a bus at Stockport and the return journey from Picadilly to Sheffield went the ‘scenic’ route, packed to the rafters like an Indian rail freight carrier (minus livestock). One family with a particularly boisterous father-figure sat his daughter next to me and then proceeded to have her talk to me on the grounds that I didn’t look unfriendly. I still don’t know to this day how he managed to make this assumption. Most people I know would be horrified at the thought of their sons or daughters making conversation with someone who looked like me. I could sense that she felt trapped between her own embarrassment and her father’s social expectations. I tried to lessen her discomfort by reassuring her that I was an okay guy. Blushing slightly she noted that it looked like I’d had an interesting time. I felt obliged to make conversation and disarm her father’s over-enthusiasm with a brief recount of my having travelled 14,000 miles in 72 hours via four different international airports, four trains and a bus. That seemed to knock the wind out of his sails. She smiled and he went strangely quiet. The first person I bumped into a few minutes after leaving Sheffield train station was my cousin, who had no idea I’d even been away. She looked down at my bags for a moment, looked back up at me and said that it looked like I’d been somewhere interesting.
After all this you may consider me mad for beginning to even think about contemplating my next journey. Well, I have to say that I feel quite enriched and emboldened by the whole affair. This consisted of quite a few “firsts” for me, some planned and many unplanned (haha!). One thing you can guarantee is that none of this has deterred me in the slightest. The one thing which WILL be different though, is the raison d’etre for my journey. Next time it will be for me alone.
KLM, keep a seat warm.. I just need to pay this last one off and then I think I’m going to see Japan.
Peace.
Well, that was interesting. The big questions regarding “why” are just too numerous to argue here but it’s sufficient to say that the holiday did not last as long, nor go as I’d expected, and believe me I had considered a fair few possible outcomes as part of my preparations.
I made good my escape from Britain. For anyone about to enter Amsterdam’s Schiphol Airport for the first time, relax. It is both sensibly designed and something of a treat with its shops and amenities – almost worth a holiday in itself. Do allow yourself at least thirty minutes to traverse its entire length though - and considerably more time if you fancy exploring. The flight to Manila, whilst long was also very pleasant as these things go. It was my first truly long-haul flight but it worked pretty well. I recommend setting your watch to your destination time as soon as you board your long-haul plane, and adjust your mindset to this new time as soon and as painlessly as you can. I’d also like to take a moment here to endorse KLM Dutch Airlines for their in-flight facilities, light but damn good airline food and graciously attentive staff.
Manila itself is a curious city, almost continental in feel - yes, definitely the spanish influence. The overall impression I got was rightfully one of a city which had been constructed over a very long period of time. Whilst perfectly capable, the indigenous culture did seem at odds with their environment, as though they’d been given the city without asking for one and were now making the most of it. I should add this impression is personal to me, reasoned as it is with only a mere 24 hours of experience, so my apologies to any Filipinos left with a feeling of misrepresentation. I sat in the arrivals area at the front of Ninoy Aquino Airport (NAIA) feeling as if I were on an auction block as hundreds of Filipina’s stared at me as they awaited the arrival of their own friends and families. It’s likely a safe bet that they don’t get too many long blonde-haired British guys sitting in the waiting area. An attendant assisted me in finding my girl, who duly turned up (complete with a taxi and driver), so the dreaded “no show” was off the cards at least. She’d just arrived back from her parent’s that morning and managed to do a complete 360 to get here in time to meet me, only a little late really to be fair. She’d said she was petite but she was actually more so than even I’d imagined, not so much under my chin as up to my chest. It has to be said she was also vastly cuter than even her pictures had made her out to be. I've been told by my friend that it's a bad idea to compare any girl you are dating with anyone else (he's right of course), but I have to say her eyes were simply stunning - somewhat akin to Zhang Ziyi's striking looks in "Memoirs of a Geisha". I was all smiles.
The anticipated “stop-start-stop-screeching tyres-horn” behaviour ensued for the next twenty minutes as we hunted for the hotel. I had an address but that didn’t prevent the taxi driver from having to consult my web map and a couple of loitering traffic police officers – the cost was a very reasonable £4 or so for the five miles, plus multiple confused trips backwards and forwards along a few of the same roads several times (UK taxi drivers take note!). Eventually we found the place – it didn’t look a thing like its pictures, but show me a hotel which does. It was a simple three-level building on a typical street, two entrances front and back, and a covered but airy courtyard leading to the lobby. I had no idea where the advertised pool was supposed to be - on the roof perhaps? We checked-in, I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, unpacked my case, freshened up and basked in the delightful air-conditioning as we chatted. I asked her if she intended to continue with her plan to stay with me or commute from her home here in the city. She said she’d stay as planned but she obviously needed to go home, collect her belongings and return - within the hour. We went to get her a taxi and after she’d left I had a quick chat with the hotel security guard out front about the trip, the coming holiday and the awesome heat – I suppose we Brits talk about the weather wherever we are. I retired to the room and reorganised my unpacking to make room for her belongings. Imagine my surprise when she phoned twenty minutes or so later to say that her Dad had called to announce the arrival of an aunt from Chicago at their home some 350 miles away, and told her to come home. Imagine further my incredulous expressions at her blind obedience to his demands and her apologies before hanging up, leaving me alone in a strange city half way around the world and with a distinct lack of purpose. You may now be imagining that this didn’t go down terribly well with me. You’d be right.
I went to the communal sitting area on the same floor and sat in the heat, which seemed somehow less tolerable now. I sat drinking my warm water, overlooking the courtyard, trying to figure out what had just happened and why. As a momentary distraction I noted the courtyard felt very Cuban in design - wrought iron balconies and wooden-shuttered windows. A girl appeared from nowhere and sat down at the opposite end of the room, lit a cigarette and chilled out with her back to me – not very sociable. As I contemplated the possibility of salvaging something from the clusterf**k I found myself in I noted a sign at the foot of some more stairs leading upwards, saying that the hotel pool was closed for repairs. Did someone want to kick me in the nuts for good measure? The smoking girl disappeared. Some more hotel staff wandered back and forth. No other guests appeared at this time – maybe there weren’t any. No one appeared for nut-cracking duties. I retired to my room and looked at my unpacked items. Locking up, I dropped my key off at reception and went for a walk.
For a city which was supposed to be a nightmare for both pedestrians and drivers alike it had quietened down considerably – it was holy week I suppose. The place looked like set of a zombie film. It was still and virtually empty, with vehicles parked at all angles and in all places. For thirty minutes I pottered about, and in that time I saw five jeepneys, a handful of cars and a small number of people (some walking and talking quietly, some laid on the pavement asleep, some sat around smiling and looking distant as though awaiting Armageddon). The sun was too strong to be out in, so I retired once more to the hotel and looked at my stuff again. At a loss I wandered to the lobby and spotted a couple of computers – the Internet. With a link with to the world I’d left behind I set about popping in for a chat. The hotel security guard logged me in and I let friends know the state of play. Much confusion and surprise rattled back and forth across the net as I explained what had happened and what I was contemplating. With neither the heart nor (strictly-speaking) the funds for two weeks of reckless island hopping/exploration I re-packed my belongings and within twenty two hours I was not only once more “single”, but also on a relatively hastily-arranged flight home, unaware of the masses of emails offering local help in the wake of my ‘post-dump’ Facebook and forum conversations - I was not to discover these offers until my second stopover at Schiphol, thirteen hours later.
The return journey suffered from a similar littering of inexplicable gaps in reason, both good and bad – the great speed with which we both got back to and through Manchester Aiport (landed, repatriated and stood in the train station with all my baggage intact in 20 mins!), the lack of ANY trains from Manchester to Sheffield at 10pm on a Saturday night, even from Manchester Airport (consider yourself warned), the expensive but available hotels (well, that they would be available when they were charging £235 per night - consider yourself warned again). One excellent side effect to this whole episode however was the chance to finally meet my friend Mike and his Japanese wife Junco, who kindly gave me a roof for the night in Macclesfield and a lift to the train station the following morning to complete my ordeal. I paid them in kind with a couple of my holiday gifts. As befits efforts to travel in the UK the train from Macclesfield to Manchester Picadilly turned into a bus at Stockport and the return journey from Picadilly to Sheffield went the ‘scenic’ route, packed to the rafters like an Indian rail freight carrier (minus livestock). One family with a particularly boisterous father-figure sat his daughter next to me and then proceeded to have her talk to me on the grounds that I didn’t look unfriendly. I still don’t know to this day how he managed to make this assumption. Most people I know would be horrified at the thought of their sons or daughters making conversation with someone who looked like me. I could sense that she felt trapped between her own embarrassment and her father’s social expectations. I tried to lessen her discomfort by reassuring her that I was an okay guy. Blushing slightly she noted that it looked like I’d had an interesting time. I felt obliged to make conversation and disarm her father’s over-enthusiasm with a brief recount of my having travelled 14,000 miles in 72 hours via four different international airports, four trains and a bus. That seemed to knock the wind out of his sails. She smiled and he went strangely quiet. The first person I bumped into a few minutes after leaving Sheffield train station was my cousin, who had no idea I’d even been away. She looked down at my bags for a moment, looked back up at me and said that it looked like I’d been somewhere interesting.
After all this you may consider me mad for beginning to even think about contemplating my next journey. Well, I have to say that I feel quite enriched and emboldened by the whole affair. This consisted of quite a few “firsts” for me, some planned and many unplanned (haha!). One thing you can guarantee is that none of this has deterred me in the slightest. The one thing which WILL be different though, is the raison d’etre for my journey. Next time it will be for me alone.
KLM, keep a seat warm.. I just need to pay this last one off and then I think I’m going to see Japan.
Peace.
Wednesday 3 March 2010
How Far Will You Go? The Adventures Of A Long Distance Relationship
As I write this I can only admit to roughly six months of exposure to my long distance relationship, or LDR as it’s known to the more routinely adventurous amongst us. Whilst I would hesitate to recommend it as a path to nirvana for either the faint-hearted, naturally nervous or anyone recently diagnosed with heart problems, I have to say that on the whole it makes for a fascinatingly enriching experience. I can only speak for myself of course, but I can tell you that it brings with it a whole new respect for the meaning of the word ‘patience’.
I met a most delightful young lady through a popular social networking site - as likely a place as anywhere for an encounter in the 21st century social scene. Even as little as a few years ago such a meeting would have been an unlikely event - more so for myself as I didn’t actually go looking for her. My plan was foolproof – to stretch the possibilities of said social networking site to make friends around the world, friends I might even meet with one day should I happen to venture in their direction. I've never equated friends with risk, but as an analysis of the situaition it looked pretty good - a minimum initial investment (saying a random ‘hello’ by email) with a potentially big return (lots of new and exotic friends in far flung places). If I’d actually sought international romance I suppose the universal line of least resistance would have guided me to one of the many dating sites to be found online. I expect many users can testify to their ‘effectiveness’, whether it resulted in a life-long loving relationship with their dream girl/boy, or insurmountable and accelerating financial debt, eternal servitude to the bank of their choice and possible decades of crippling emotional instability. Ironically the LDR seems to somehow seamlessly fuse these disparate conclusions.
I’m sure some of you out there must have had days when leaving the arms of your loved one for work/do some shopping/walk the dog was a test in itself, much less having to wait six months for your first real meeting, whilst your future girlfriend contends with the daily challenges which medical training, volcanoes, earthquakes and tsunami warnings bring. The costs of travelling too can also be something which demands a certain respect, as you witness your once clean sheet of debt-free existence float off into the distance on life’s ocean, lashed to a mental raft of mystery and fluctuating interest rates. Yet the compulsion to find a lasting love has spurred many a man forwards since the beginning of time. Whether it be like the good old days of rescuing a princess from the clutches of a powerful and raving megalomaniac (hell-bent on dominating both his place of work AND the target of your affections), or a more civilised and tranquil romantic encounter with that special someone, it all boils down to companionship and that person it would seem may not necessarily be just the girl next door anymore. My case is a pefect example of the truly absurd - a woman on the other side of the planet, dropped into my life with the clockwork precision of a god with a sense of humour and time on its hands..
I admit to being very optimistic about our little coming adventure in spite of the odds, though as with all things in life where it will actually lead is anyone’s guess - the asylum, or an emotionally secure future of prosperity and eternal life for all? It seems that in this case 'time' will have the last word.
Peace!
I met a most delightful young lady through a popular social networking site - as likely a place as anywhere for an encounter in the 21st century social scene. Even as little as a few years ago such a meeting would have been an unlikely event - more so for myself as I didn’t actually go looking for her. My plan was foolproof – to stretch the possibilities of said social networking site to make friends around the world, friends I might even meet with one day should I happen to venture in their direction. I've never equated friends with risk, but as an analysis of the situaition it looked pretty good - a minimum initial investment (saying a random ‘hello’ by email) with a potentially big return (lots of new and exotic friends in far flung places). If I’d actually sought international romance I suppose the universal line of least resistance would have guided me to one of the many dating sites to be found online. I expect many users can testify to their ‘effectiveness’, whether it resulted in a life-long loving relationship with their dream girl/boy, or insurmountable and accelerating financial debt, eternal servitude to the bank of their choice and possible decades of crippling emotional instability. Ironically the LDR seems to somehow seamlessly fuse these disparate conclusions.
I’m sure some of you out there must have had days when leaving the arms of your loved one for work/do some shopping/walk the dog was a test in itself, much less having to wait six months for your first real meeting, whilst your future girlfriend contends with the daily challenges which medical training, volcanoes, earthquakes and tsunami warnings bring. The costs of travelling too can also be something which demands a certain respect, as you witness your once clean sheet of debt-free existence float off into the distance on life’s ocean, lashed to a mental raft of mystery and fluctuating interest rates. Yet the compulsion to find a lasting love has spurred many a man forwards since the beginning of time. Whether it be like the good old days of rescuing a princess from the clutches of a powerful and raving megalomaniac (hell-bent on dominating both his place of work AND the target of your affections), or a more civilised and tranquil romantic encounter with that special someone, it all boils down to companionship and that person it would seem may not necessarily be just the girl next door anymore. My case is a pefect example of the truly absurd - a woman on the other side of the planet, dropped into my life with the clockwork precision of a god with a sense of humour and time on its hands..
I admit to being very optimistic about our little coming adventure in spite of the odds, though as with all things in life where it will actually lead is anyone’s guess - the asylum, or an emotionally secure future of prosperity and eternal life for all? It seems that in this case 'time' will have the last word.
Peace!
Tuesday 2 March 2010
THE FIRST ONE – Why?
Hi there! Welcome to this, my first blog on the "Life In The Shell" site. I thought for my first entry I would try to define it's raison d'etre. As life moves inexorably forwards, and I accumulate all manner of stresses and strains, I felt I needed something to help me exercise and relax both mind and spirit in equal measure.. Somewhere to share my philosophical musings or draw attention to articles of interest - maybe even spark debate in these stale times in which we live (ladies and gentlemen, watch very carefully over the coming years as I demonstrate to you how to 'eat your own words' in the public domain..). Anyway just to be clear, member's contributions aside, these musings are mine alone (unless I state otherwise), and any harm, discomfort or destruction caused to anyone or anything in the process is completely unintentional (unless I state otherwise).
Tenzin Gyatso (a.k.a the Dalai Lama) has stated many a little gem of wisdom in all his lifetimes, but the one I read and admired most recently is his fervent belief that the true natural state of humanity is compassion, and not hatred, as one might otherwise be lead to believe..
“We humans have existed in our present form for about a hundred thousand years. I believe that if during this time the human mind had been primarily controlled by anger and hatred, our overall population would have decreased. But today, despite all our wars, we find that the human population is greater than ever. This clearly indicates to me that love and compassion predominate in the world. And this is why unpleasant events are "news"; compassionate activities are so much a part of daily life that they are taken for granted and , therefore, largely ignored”.
So, in the best traditions of human behaviour when it's back is up against the wall, let’s work cooperatively and compassionately towards resolving some of life’s little dilemmas, have a little fun along the way, and try our best to be mature(ish) in leaving no stone unturned! There may even be the occasional flash of wit and/or humour..
As the Dalai Lama is also quoted as having once said..“people are too serious.. all the time, too serious”.
Peace!
Tenzin Gyatso (a.k.a the Dalai Lama) has stated many a little gem of wisdom in all his lifetimes, but the one I read and admired most recently is his fervent belief that the true natural state of humanity is compassion, and not hatred, as one might otherwise be lead to believe..
“We humans have existed in our present form for about a hundred thousand years. I believe that if during this time the human mind had been primarily controlled by anger and hatred, our overall population would have decreased. But today, despite all our wars, we find that the human population is greater than ever. This clearly indicates to me that love and compassion predominate in the world. And this is why unpleasant events are "news"; compassionate activities are so much a part of daily life that they are taken for granted and , therefore, largely ignored”.
So, in the best traditions of human behaviour when it's back is up against the wall, let’s work cooperatively and compassionately towards resolving some of life’s little dilemmas, have a little fun along the way, and try our best to be mature(ish) in leaving no stone unturned! There may even be the occasional flash of wit and/or humour..
As the Dalai Lama is also quoted as having once said..“people are too serious.. all the time, too serious”.
Peace!
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