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Hmmmmmmmmmmm.
A few people I've asked this question to told me that the whole dating scene is a quest for stability. They want the undivided attention and commitment, and they want to feel the longevity of a mutual loyalty towards one another. But I still find myself asking why? Why not be loyal to a friend, instead? What is it about a wife/husband/girlfriend/boyfriend that is different from, say, your best and oldest friends? Are they not as loyal?
To which the people I asked replied by stating that with your friends, they come and go. Whereas with a partner, you will never feel alone and you always know that they're there for you. You're not meant to be that codependent with friends, who have their own lives to lead. I mean, we imagine ourselves spending the later parts of our life with a wife and kids - not a group of five same-sex chums, right? So, I ask them, what about your relatives? Aren't your parents and siblings just as 'constant' as a partner is? Your family are also always there for you. So what makes a wife/husband/girlfriend/boyfriend any different from, say, your sister, your uncle, or your mother?
Someone answered me by saying that they want to feel be proud of 'working on a relationship'. Establishing a relationship with someone means that you both make suggestions, criticisms, sacrifices, and changes in personality and lifestyle, so as to create something impressive to others, and impressive to ourselves - confirmation of the fact that you can do something in this world, live in a house together and have children, contribute to the national consumerism in your purchases, to the real estate and education industries - while continually helping someone in particular better their life and, in turn, have your own life changed for the better by them. A very good argument, I must say, but I must ask, is that not what we do at school and at work? When we work on individual projects, we make suggestions and criticisms to steer a project in the right direction, we work just as hard, to improve business, and to give back to society. A lot of people can say they love their job. A lot of people can say they feel important in the line of work they do. Just like in a relationship. So what makes a wife/husband/girlfriend/boyfriend different from your co-worker or your company then?
One of my friends responded by saying that they want erraticity. They want to feel that thrill of a roller-coaster-like experience when dating another person. They want to fall for someone, and they want to 'feel', mutually, 'in love', to feel that rush, that sense of having no boundaries. Sometimes it's not about commitment and stability, it's about surprises, a pair of earrings on the pillow, an unexpected candlelight dinner at home, a new car parked outside with a bow tied on top of it.
I'll admit it - my best friend and my mother would never surprise me with a car, but a future wife might. I cannot think of a logical explanation for why this 'rush' is not really why we go into relationships, other than pointing out the reality that predictability often trumps unpredictability in this world. Those tacky surprises are only seen in romantic comedies and sitcoms and unrealistic. A majority of couples that exist around us are definitely not that exciting - teenage couples just go to the movies and fuck, middle-aged couples just have dinner dates and then they might fuck afterward, and the elderly, well, they just... read the newspaper.
Sure, she may be cute, but why not just get a dog?
He certainly is very, very smart, but why aren't you making a move on your professor?
She 'gets' you, you say? Get a shrink, who can psychoanalyze and understand you better than any girl will.
Yeah, yeah, he's really funny indeed - but, are you saying I'm not funny?
These reasons are superficial, all of the ones I've listed so far. Love is something felt, and not thought about. It's hard to explain why people bother with relationships.
One of my friends suggested that it was animal instinct, an uncontrollable compulsion that ultimately is meant to provide you with a mate with whom you can reproduce and propagate your genes with. Can you imagine using that as your answer when people ask you what makes your partner so great?
"Because I want my genetic material to be passed down to the next generation."
The UK is not as glamorous as I hoped it would be. It's hoped for, but also expected. And it's just as well. There is no need for me to get caught up in my foolish fantasies of a brand new sparkling study environment in England. At the moment, I can't say that I miss home terribly, but then again, I am unable to say that I am happy to be here either.
The trip was long, but not that I'm complaining. New Zealander air service is pretty good, very hospitable. Their meals weren't stellar or very filling, but at least it was tasty enough, and at least it was food.
I was admittedly too mindful of everything important to do with my time and my money and my traveling that I did not fully appreciate Heathrow Airport or the London underground. I wish we had the time for me to walk a bit slower, and to speculate on Britishness at my own pace, but the friend who welcomed me at the airport, and myself, were too time-pressed, and it was impossible for me to mentally gather my comments on every little thing. I wish we had the time to maybe surface to the streets of London and have a look around. I guess I'll have to find the time alone one weekend to explore London town.
But I really think I should start memorizing the Canterbury region first as best I can, like the badass motherfucker-rememberer I was back in Hong Kong.
The first thing I noticed as I stepped out of the Arrivals gate is that everybody is very English. I guess that's a stupid thing to say, as England is obviously going to seem very English, but it's a fact nonetheless that I took note of in my head as I was making my way to Canterbury. I wish I could put my finger on why that was so noticeable to me initially, but I think summarizing the entire British population's behavior in one specific description is too tricky a task.
Anyway, the dormitory room that I am staying in is really standard. There is nothing special about it, and it will need a lot of touching up in order to make it feel like home. At least I've got beer coasters from my first job, and photos of my family and friends, to pin to my cork noticeboard and remind me of where I came from. I miss my old bartending job. I suppose I will feel differently and a bit better once lectures begin and I can then focus my mind on a routinely focusable process once more.
This room needs books most of all. I can already feel my IQ dropping as I lie in this bare room with empty excuses for bookshelves.
I wish I had someone I knew with me to experience this with. I guess loneliness and acceptance of always being on my own will be something I'll learn really quickly, lest I might enter a state of depression.
Ultimately, though, I like the internal struggle I have going on inside me. It is difficult to be here, to have traveled here all by myself, to study and to live here, and to make a helluvan effort to meet new people and socialize, but it's all towards this bigger, more important goal.
I am not living in reality anymore.
I am living my dream.
Alright, alright, alright, alright, alright, it's too sad, it's too sad to destroy this blog. I went back and read what I wrote in the past few months, and damn, that is a lot of writing, a lot of comments, a lot of readership, a lot of thoughts and memories and experiences to just delete at the quick click of the mouse's slick left button.
I was there, with my finger on my mouse, anticipating what I was about to do, like with my finger on the trigger of a gun to my own head (figuratively, of course, remember my thoughts and my memories?)... I couldn't do it, and I chickened out. It looks like I'm here to stay, with my horribly public displays of self-doubt, indecision, angst, hypocrisy and boastful arrogance. Woo~
I've just been really moody lately, you know? At times, I'm ecstatic, other times, downright dismal. Today, my feelings swung from guilt to gloom and from grief to glee. I don't know. I really don't know what's going on. Perhaps I'm just tired.
I have exams coming up soon, and so April is the month to focus. I need to work hard if I want to start a good new life in London. I can't wait to walk out of the examination room after each exam, knowing all my hard studying went toward some cause. I can't wait to pick out the suit I'll wear at my graduation ceremony and ball. I can't wait to party on the night we graduate, I can't wait to turn 18, I can't wait to finally have fun this summer, the only summer in which I just can't worry about the next year of high school.
I can't wait to immerse myself in time spent with my classmates, my friends, my loves. I can't wait to hug them with all the genuine good intent in my heart it will ever muster up for a long time to come.
I can't wait to move to London, to visit Soho, Camden Town, watch musicals, visit museums, eat at fancy restaurants, shop at flea markets, party at the coolest clubs, eat the most traditional scones and biscuits alongside a nice hot cup of cappuccino...
I can't wait to start my university course, and study what I want, what I flippin' give a damn about. I can't wait to grow up, I can't wait to be an adult, I can't wait to fall in love again, I can't wait to live a new life.
Two years ago, I was suffering from my second-most serious case of depression (the first being the time I nearly commited suicide). During this second-most serious case, I constantly felt dizzy, nauseated and miserable. I lacked an appetite and the urge to sleep.
I don't just mean skipping breakfast. I don't just mean I pulled off an all-nighter. I did not eat or sleep for four days straight. All I did was crap, and cry at night in my room. I really didn't know if my mood affected my appetite, or if my loss of appetite led to my depression.
But it was horrible, and I knew I had a problem even by the second day. I refused to eat anything at meals... anything. I would walk past my all-time favorite fast-food chain, McDonald's, without even stopping. I was disgusted by all food, anything from chocolate cake to scrumptious Chinese delicacies, from pork chops to chicken wings, from pancakes with bananas to spaghetti bolognese. I would drink Coke, and puke it out later. Ordinary water seemed to be the only thing I could take in, even though I never drink any water and rely on juice, soft drinks, energy drinks, tea, coffee and soup for my fluids. And as for alcohol, well, you know what alcohol does to you: it makes you puke, but even I, with a tough threshold for holding my drink, puked, and that, my friends, is an astonishingly serious symptom. It's like everything, toxic to my body or healthful for my body, didn't appeal to me. I hated eating, I didn't want to consume anything.
Shit, it's probably the sickest I've ever been.
Right now, I have a virus lying within me that's similar. I woke up today frantically reaching around for my rubbish bin so that I could vomit.
I didn't get any satisfaction, though, because I haven't eaten since Wednesday afternoon, and there's nothing in my digestive system to regurgitate. I mean, it's Friday afternoon now, and I don't have the appetite to eat anything, not even a slice of bread, a small biscuit, or a bowl of congee - basically not even boring, bland rice in a bowl of water.
The one difference, between this time and that time two years ago, is that I'm not miserable. I think things with my family, especially my mother, are going fine. I have an active, lively Facebook, MSN and blogging life when I'm not out with my friends. And damn, my friends make me so happy and they mean so much to me. A romantic life is not in the equation because I'm not desperately looking for it. And I had a week of school that was actually looking up until I was feeling too ill to go yesterday, and now, today.
And it's making me think, am I actually miserable like the last time, but I've only been hiding it these past few days? Is there something I'm denying about how I feel? Am I withholding emotions that I don't want to let out?
I just gagged.
I'm heading to the doctor now to get some medication. I still don't want to eat anything. A big, fat steak would repulse me and make me puke up my stomach.
Shucks, I just gagged again. Talk to you all later.
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Update @ 21:27: The doctor gave me five different pills to take. I have a really bad headache now in addition to the vomiting need. I just went to the bathroom, and basically let out whatever was left inside my body. I don't think there's any food matter inside me at all. I still don't have an appetite. I just feel tired. I'll be back later, I suppose, to give another update.
You are bound to experience the ever-changing and complex nature of emotions whenever you’re betrayed, hurt, taken by surprise, provoked, abused, or perhaps by a stroke of luck, when someone loves you. People can make you feel all sorts of feelings, whether it be glad or depressed, outraged or frightened, comfortable or highly neurotic. It doesn’t matter whether we’re black or white or yellow, whether we’re in a low, an average or a high social class, whether we were just born into this world, about to leave it, or we're somewhere in between, whether we like to eat nothing but expensive caviar or whether we like to slit our wrists, whether we're personable and likable or rude and rebellious, no matter what our political standpoints, backgrounds, thoughts, morals, dreams and goals or our personality are. We all feel emotions. It's a given.
A lesson we all have to learn is how, when and with whom you need to swallow these emotions. You have to withstand the temptation to express your feelings at some points, even when it annoys you, even when it hurts you deep inside.
We have to learn to swallow them for the benefit of everyone, to save ourselves from embarrassment, to withhold a reputation or an appearance, to avoid argument, to calm ourselves down, to spare someone’s feelings, or to perhaps prevent further sad reminiscence or grief. We keep them in because not everybody can handle the honest truth. We keep them in because it’s not necessarily 'healthy' for you, or for anybody else. We keep them in to protect ourselves from all the people that will abuse you, betray you or deceive you. We keep them in for many different reasons. Sometimes, we almost need to keep them in just as much as we need to, in other times, express them.I hold them in because I know it’s pointless to express them. I feel hopeless wherever I sit, with whomever I see and whenever I hear the selfish, unripe thoughts of those that are close to me. It’s hopeless asking for more. It’s futile wanting something more than nothing. Expressing yourself seems overrated to me.It’s over, my heart is broken and I give up. I'm giving up on revealing to you honestly why I care for you, what I truly want from you, and how I'm hurt by you. I give up asking for what I want. I’m done with being disappointed, underwhelmed and feeling unappreciated and lonely. I’m going to keep them in until we leave. I know I need to learn how to control them with you. I know I need to learn whenever I’m around you. All I need to learn is how to withstand the temptation to be drawn to you, to give you second chances, to let you share with me the reasons why I should continue trusting you with my heart. I'm giving up the whole sharing thing now, because you don't make me feel wanted. Conversely, that's all I ever try to convey to you, that I want you by my side, that I need you. I've given up doing all that now. I'm sick of being a relationship tutor. I've given up and I'm never going back, even when it annoys me...
...even when it hurts me deep inside.
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