Most people who know me know that I am an incredibly big dreamer. I love being swept away in my imaginings, taking a fantastical journey through a world which is so different but still the same as my own. These dreams vary in kind; sometimes I dream about falling in love and being the domestic goddess I would thoroughly enjoy being. Sometimes I dream about a dazzling career and an Ab-Fab kind of extravagance - I've already decided, for example, that I am in dire need of a self-replenishing champagne fridge. Sometimes I dream about things like travelling and finally getting around the entire world. And I love my dreams, whatever they're about.
And I know we all have our dreams; we all have something which we cling to and that's a really good thing - and something I believe should never be discouraged. The only issue which sometimes pops up (...except for the occasional bad dream...) stems from some more soppily romantic dreams. The problem is that sometimes you dream them about people you know, and sometimes it becomes hard to separate actual reality from the fictional reality which has been concocted. I don't mean that you necessarily think that your dreams have literally happened. What I mean is that sometimes these dreams change the way that you look at people, and usually it's in such a way that it becomes very hard to see them as you did before. Which can be incredibly problematic. It's like having a romantic dream about one of your friends; one which was so perfect and so beautiful that when you wake up you think '...hey, I'd kind of like that...' And the rest of the day your head swirls around all sorts of thoughts which you'd never even thought about considering before, as The Corrs sang '...got me spinning round and round, turning upside down...'
The issue becomes separating actuality from the dreams. The person you've chosen to dream about was, no doubt, perfect in your dreams. But are they really perfect in real life? In our dreams we have the opportunity to live a perfect life partially because we can see where the troubles would arise in the relationship with our subconscious and, being already equipped to handle those issues, we gloss over them. But it's very seldom that real life really takes on these logical patterns; we are people and by nature can be incredibly irrational. Life is not always predictable - thank god. My point is that dreaming about how perfect a relationship would be is not necessarily indicative of how a relationship actually would be. All relationships have ups and downs, and nothing is even close to perfect without a bit of work.
Sometimes you dream about people who you know, but barely know. In your imaginings you can create an entirely different personality from the one they might actually have. The personality you give to them in your own mind is incredibly dangerous, because it means that when you finally do 'actually' start getting to know that person, the image you've created of that person is so strong in your mind that you can find yourself somehow disappointed by who they actually are. That's not to say that they're a disappointment as a person; they could be absolutely wonderful but if they're not what you imagined them to be, sometimes that can put you off of them before you even really give him a chance. On the other side of things, there's nothing that says they won't be exactly what you've imagined them to be and more.
Sometimes you'll imagine that you do see the things you so wanted to see in the person and gloss over the flaws everyone else can see. They'll point them out and you'll brush them aside, because you're the one who knows them, after all. It's a special connection. Sometimes you'll even let that relationship progress because you think that the person will be what you think they are deep down, not because you're trying to change them but because you somehow think that you know them better than they know themselves. And eventually the image disintegrates around you and what you're left with can really mess you up. Creating this kind of a superman image should come with massive warning signs, because whichever side reality falls upon, your subconscious expectations can sometimes change both who you're seeing and how you see the relationship.
I love my dreams, which is a good thing because I'm constantly dreaming, but sometimes I wonder about how safe they actually are. I don't anticipate falling into one of my dreams, or never being able to escape one, but I worry sometimes that the world which I create in my mind might be one which I'll never be able to replicate in reality. For example, it is very hard to imagine actually being able to live in a city in the sky rather than on the ground. On the other side of things, being aware of those thoughts makes me even more inclined to work for what I really want in life, as well as making it even more crystal clear what my priorities are and should be. It also serves as a reminder that people are the way that they are; you can't expect them to be anything else and if you do, you set yourself up for all kinds of troubles - romantic or otherwise.
Am I concerned that I'll never find the person I've dreamt about? No, because even if I don't find 'him', I'm sure I'll find the right one when it's the right time to find him and until then I am perfectly happy bopping along. It's a wild world and I've no intention of doing anything other than taking it as it comes and making the most of every second whilst dreaming beautiful dreams, loving, and laughing my way through. And rambling on here about various nonsensical things ;)
Back to the flat-hunt!
Char
xoxox
Wednesday, 23 May 2012
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By:
Charli B
Thursday, 10 May 2012
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By:
Charli B
Number 126: Oh Dear
There are very few things I love more than having a bit of time to myself. Time to think, time to recollect, time to move on from one dream and start another. It's one of those things I haven't actually had much time for during the last few months because I've been so snowed under, physically and mentally, that setting aside the time just hasn't worked - and when I have set aside the time it's mostly been because I've been ill which, believe it or not, doesn't exactly give you much space for really getting all introspective.
Having now finished my exams and started what will effectively be a month and a couple of weeks away from anything academically/work related, it's exactly that kind of time which I'm getting - or well. It's part of what I'll be getting. Unfortunately, in a way, this month is also going to be full of a lot of other things. The more practical, laborious things that no one tells you you're going to have to deal with when you grow up. The sort of things that you think about and the only thing that you can think of to say (or I can think of to say) is 'Oh dear'. In the next couple of weeks I'm going to have to find somewhere to live, at least for the summer, then start the process of packing up my student room here and moving over there. A few weeks from now I need (and want and can't wait) to go to Sweden, where amongst all the socialising and laying back and generally enjoying life, I will also be packing up there and sorting my stuff into 'Keep and Store', 'Sell', and 'Move'. It's kind of the end of an era, and when I think about it it breaks my heart. Which is also why I will be forcing my darling friends (love you) to do everything you can do in Skåne before I go. Just FYI guys. (A)
I think one of the things which scares me the most is that for the most part it will be just me doing it. Obviously I'll have my wonderful friends to help me through, and my family will always be a Skype call away to discuss logistics. But for the most part, it all comes down to me. And it's kind of a big deal, packing up and selling off and moving in alone. It's going to be great fun moving my stuff around London, just casually strolling through the centre with a big suitcase and/or one of those wheely boxes. There are perks to it, of course, but still. So much responsibility. Can't believe I'm so grown up now! She says as she wonders vaguely whether she should watch a Disney film tonight or read Harry Potter. Or do both. Snap. I'd love to write 'Just kidding! Going to get crunnnnk.' but that's really not my style, particularly given that I'm still sayonara-ing my cold.
I know I've said it before, but I really don't know when I got so old. And I really wish the idea I had of being an adult when I was a kid actually matched up to what it's really like. Although the kind of adult I planned to be when I was young is a very different adult from the one which I am; I was actually not planning on going to university when I was a kid because I was going to become a super star aged (latest) 15 and get married at 20 and live a fabulously wealthy, splendiferous life travelling the world for my music. Obviously. I still remember a couple of the songs I wrote - one particularly memorable one which is actually alright and then the other which is absolutely... Cringeworthy. Think Rebecca Black but with actual singing and about a boyfriend who was cheating on his girlfriend. No idea how I managed to come up with that one, actually - I was about 10. Favourite line was definitely "And though you'll try to talk to other girls, I'll make sure they'll never be yours." I was so sure of myself back then, wild. Should really record it and put it up on YouTube for all of your benefits, you can wonder at my lyrical glory. Oh dear.
Anyway, there are obviously perks of being an adult. And the things the adults don't tell you about when you're a kid are the exact same things I won't tell my kids about until they get old enough to worry about them. Childhood should be free like that; your kids shouldn't have to worry about taxes and national insurance numbers and whether or not they get to go to university. They shouldn't have to worry about what job they'll have but should have the freedom to dream of whatever career they want to. Their biggest concern should be whether or not to build that treehouse out in the garden and which magical creature is going to invade their territory today. I want that security of dreams for my future kids, that carefree innocence and the knowledge that my husband and I will always look after them. Security. It's such a big word.
Well, the building site has officially started its day which means I can too. Gym tiiiiiime. And off to my first apartment viewing tonight most likely! Wild. Absolutely wild. Time just never stops moving, does it? Just constantly slipping away.
xoxo
Having now finished my exams and started what will effectively be a month and a couple of weeks away from anything academically/work related, it's exactly that kind of time which I'm getting - or well. It's part of what I'll be getting. Unfortunately, in a way, this month is also going to be full of a lot of other things. The more practical, laborious things that no one tells you you're going to have to deal with when you grow up. The sort of things that you think about and the only thing that you can think of to say (or I can think of to say) is 'Oh dear'. In the next couple of weeks I'm going to have to find somewhere to live, at least for the summer, then start the process of packing up my student room here and moving over there. A few weeks from now I need (and want and can't wait) to go to Sweden, where amongst all the socialising and laying back and generally enjoying life, I will also be packing up there and sorting my stuff into 'Keep and Store', 'Sell', and 'Move'. It's kind of the end of an era, and when I think about it it breaks my heart. Which is also why I will be forcing my darling friends (love you) to do everything you can do in Skåne before I go. Just FYI guys. (A)
I think one of the things which scares me the most is that for the most part it will be just me doing it. Obviously I'll have my wonderful friends to help me through, and my family will always be a Skype call away to discuss logistics. But for the most part, it all comes down to me. And it's kind of a big deal, packing up and selling off and moving in alone. It's going to be great fun moving my stuff around London, just casually strolling through the centre with a big suitcase and/or one of those wheely boxes. There are perks to it, of course, but still. So much responsibility. Can't believe I'm so grown up now! She says as she wonders vaguely whether she should watch a Disney film tonight or read Harry Potter. Or do both. Snap. I'd love to write 'Just kidding! Going to get crunnnnk.' but that's really not my style, particularly given that I'm still sayonara-ing my cold.
I know I've said it before, but I really don't know when I got so old. And I really wish the idea I had of being an adult when I was a kid actually matched up to what it's really like. Although the kind of adult I planned to be when I was young is a very different adult from the one which I am; I was actually not planning on going to university when I was a kid because I was going to become a super star aged (latest) 15 and get married at 20 and live a fabulously wealthy, splendiferous life travelling the world for my music. Obviously. I still remember a couple of the songs I wrote - one particularly memorable one which is actually alright and then the other which is absolutely... Cringeworthy. Think Rebecca Black but with actual singing and about a boyfriend who was cheating on his girlfriend. No idea how I managed to come up with that one, actually - I was about 10. Favourite line was definitely "And though you'll try to talk to other girls, I'll make sure they'll never be yours." I was so sure of myself back then, wild. Should really record it and put it up on YouTube for all of your benefits, you can wonder at my lyrical glory. Oh dear.
Anyway, there are obviously perks of being an adult. And the things the adults don't tell you about when you're a kid are the exact same things I won't tell my kids about until they get old enough to worry about them. Childhood should be free like that; your kids shouldn't have to worry about taxes and national insurance numbers and whether or not they get to go to university. They shouldn't have to worry about what job they'll have but should have the freedom to dream of whatever career they want to. Their biggest concern should be whether or not to build that treehouse out in the garden and which magical creature is going to invade their territory today. I want that security of dreams for my future kids, that carefree innocence and the knowledge that my husband and I will always look after them. Security. It's such a big word.
Well, the building site has officially started its day which means I can too. Gym tiiiiiime. And off to my first apartment viewing tonight most likely! Wild. Absolutely wild. Time just never stops moving, does it? Just constantly slipping away.
xoxo
Sunday, 6 May 2012
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By:
Charli B
Number 125: Meet Me Halfway
For those of you who regularly read my blog, and for those of you who don't, I warn you in advance that what follows is probably not going to make much sense; I've come down with a really intense cold and can barely focus for long enough to write a sentence let alone an entire entry. Why am I writing one, then? Because even now my mind is spiralling with a thousand thoughts and I need to get some of them out.
At the moment I'm struggling with some feelings and, for the first time in a long time, I've no idea what to do about them. It's difficult to explain, but it involves missing someone - and at the same time as I'm missing them I feel like I really shouldn't be missing them. And at the same time, not a day goes by when I don't think about them - not in a scary like, I think about them every single minute of every single day obsessive compulsive way, but in more of an 'I wonder what they're doing' way. It's a little bit hard to explain; even harder to work out what to do about it. It feels a little like that Black-Eyed Peas song, "Meet Me Halfway", but not really. I'd usually have another song I could replace that one with which more accurately surmised my feelings, but I think I've lost access to about 3/4 of my brain courtesy of my cold. Sob.
It's one thing to miss someone that you do know. I miss lots of people; it comes with the territory of being very close to your family and happening to live on the other side of the world from them. I miss sitting in the living room, laughing at movies together with my brothers; drinking wine in the summer air outside in Döshult with my parents; hysterical conversations about 'Great Fires' and the lyrics to different songs. I miss my family and there's not a day that goes by that I don't think of them; not a day that I don't lament the distance. I miss my dog, too - which in many ways is an even harder emotion to articulate because you can't really talk to a dog on Skype and tell them that you miss them. And even if you do, you're always uncertain of whether or not they can actually understand you.
I miss my friends in Sweden and I miss my life there; I miss the certainties of life and the logic that Sweden presents you with. I miss the air, I miss the towns, I even miss using my JoJo card - how pathetic. One of the things I miss the most is the sky, because having so much less pollution means that when you lay out on a clear night, you can see all the stars in the sky. I miss swimming through them. I miss my little old university town and am so excited to be going back, but dreading going back to pack up once and for all. It breaks my heart knowing that this summer I'll be leaving my apartment there for the last time; that I have to sell my bike and that I have to acknowledge that I've actually left that part of my life behind for at least the next couple of years. Sweden is one of the few places I cannot rule out returning to and it will forever have a very very special place in my heart. And every opportunity I have to go visit, I'll take it.
But all of these things are concrete things to miss. They make sense, because I'm so connected to them. It would be stranger for me to not miss them. But missing someone like I'm missing this someone is not something I'm accustomed to. And because of the circumstances which surround it, it's not something I think I should be doing. And inevitably I'll start the process of letting go - and in fact already have. But it's such a strange feeling, all the same, and because it is so strange it's even harder for me to process. Strange times in the life of Charlotte. Definitely going to become a nun.
Better head off to bed before I start rambling again; curling up with a Disney flick and a headache, with a red nose that makes me look surprisingly like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer - particularly as my hair has not been brushed so I actually have the antlers. So sexy tonight.
Peaceeee.
xoxo
At the moment I'm struggling with some feelings and, for the first time in a long time, I've no idea what to do about them. It's difficult to explain, but it involves missing someone - and at the same time as I'm missing them I feel like I really shouldn't be missing them. And at the same time, not a day goes by when I don't think about them - not in a scary like, I think about them every single minute of every single day obsessive compulsive way, but in more of an 'I wonder what they're doing' way. It's a little bit hard to explain; even harder to work out what to do about it. It feels a little like that Black-Eyed Peas song, "Meet Me Halfway", but not really. I'd usually have another song I could replace that one with which more accurately surmised my feelings, but I think I've lost access to about 3/4 of my brain courtesy of my cold. Sob.
It's one thing to miss someone that you do know. I miss lots of people; it comes with the territory of being very close to your family and happening to live on the other side of the world from them. I miss sitting in the living room, laughing at movies together with my brothers; drinking wine in the summer air outside in Döshult with my parents; hysterical conversations about 'Great Fires' and the lyrics to different songs. I miss my family and there's not a day that goes by that I don't think of them; not a day that I don't lament the distance. I miss my dog, too - which in many ways is an even harder emotion to articulate because you can't really talk to a dog on Skype and tell them that you miss them. And even if you do, you're always uncertain of whether or not they can actually understand you.
I miss my friends in Sweden and I miss my life there; I miss the certainties of life and the logic that Sweden presents you with. I miss the air, I miss the towns, I even miss using my JoJo card - how pathetic. One of the things I miss the most is the sky, because having so much less pollution means that when you lay out on a clear night, you can see all the stars in the sky. I miss swimming through them. I miss my little old university town and am so excited to be going back, but dreading going back to pack up once and for all. It breaks my heart knowing that this summer I'll be leaving my apartment there for the last time; that I have to sell my bike and that I have to acknowledge that I've actually left that part of my life behind for at least the next couple of years. Sweden is one of the few places I cannot rule out returning to and it will forever have a very very special place in my heart. And every opportunity I have to go visit, I'll take it.
But all of these things are concrete things to miss. They make sense, because I'm so connected to them. It would be stranger for me to not miss them. But missing someone like I'm missing this someone is not something I'm accustomed to. And because of the circumstances which surround it, it's not something I think I should be doing. And inevitably I'll start the process of letting go - and in fact already have. But it's such a strange feeling, all the same, and because it is so strange it's even harder for me to process. Strange times in the life of Charlotte. Definitely going to become a nun.
Better head off to bed before I start rambling again; curling up with a Disney flick and a headache, with a red nose that makes me look surprisingly like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer - particularly as my hair has not been brushed so I actually have the antlers. So sexy tonight.
Peaceeee.
xoxo
Friday, 27 April 2012
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By:
Charli B
Number 124: When You Get to My Age
Lately I've taken to saying things like 'When you get to my age...' This, most likely, seems a bit redundant to the greater part of my audience. I'm not that much older than I was before; I'm also not that much older than anyone else I know and am frequently younger than a lot of the people I tend to spend time with. I still maintain that age really has very little to do with anything, in the sense that I don't think the number means anything.
Sort of like numbers on a scale; sure, they tell you something, but do they tell you what's really there? No. They give you a number which is your weight, sure, but they don't tell you how much of that is muscle, how much is fat, or how much can be attributed to bone density/water. They don't tell you whether you're at a healthy weight for your body type/height. In different places they can tell you different things; at different times of day, the same. They don't tell you whether you're pink or green or yellow or covered in feathers or elephant skin - or a normal human being. That's what age-numbers are like for me too; they tell you something, but if you were to base your entire opinion around that one thing you'd be missing out on all of the other elements that make up that person. A number is only a number, just like a name is only a name. But I'm not going to go into my whole 'why-categorising-things-is-what's-making-us-backwards' debate, both because I haven't entirely formulated it and because I don't really have time (exam time wooooohoooo).
Time is another one of those things that has really hit me lately. My closest friend and I have had a number of discussions about it; it's one of those things that constantly circulates around our minds. Personally, I think time is simultaneously the shortest and the longest thing. You think you have all of the time in the world to prepare for something, and then it slips away and BAM it's in your face. You think you have all the time in the world to speak to someone before they leave, and then they disappear and the moment has gone. You remember when you were 10 like it was yesterday, but at the same time you remember all of the things that have happened, how much has changed, since then. It's so long and it's so short, and it's completely insane. There's a lot to be said for living in the moment and taking chances when they come along; some never come along again, and no one has time to wait forever.
When you get to my age, you start realising things about yourself. Maybe you already knew them in some way, but they become somehow more crystal clear. There are things that once seemed so important to you that you now don't think anything of, whether they're superficial or otherwise. There are plans you once made that you plan to see through, and others that you let go. You reorganise your priorities, re-evaluate what matters and what doesn't, and finally understand what you do and don't like and what you can and won't compromise on.
For example, I've grown incredibly tired of people playing games - whether they're doing it romantically or amicably, with the best or the worst of intentions, deliberately or inadvertently (though particularly deliberately). I don't like drama or gossip or lies, I don't like heartache, I don't like waiting; I like honesty, I like openness, and I like when you can say what you think without having to think about whether someone's going to try and 'interpret' what you say and how they might do it. Maybe I'm a bit too straight-forwards like that, but I don't like complications.
When you get to my age you still have a lot to learn, but it's the next stage in the learning journey: it's a whole new style of learning which has very little to do with what other people tell you and everything to do with what you tell yourself. You've learnt that you make mistakes, and that other people do too; you've learnt that they shape you and you'll carry them onwards with you, and all you can do is learn from them, let them go, and not make the same mistakes again. You've learnt to let go of those stupid little things that bothered you in the past, and smile and laugh about them for the insignificant things they were. You have lived, you have loved, you have laughed, and you have learned - and ultimately, that's all you can do.
Well, when you get to my age, you'll understand - whether you agree or not is a completely different question.
PEACE! And to those of you revising for exams - or procrastinating revising for exams (...) - good luck <3
Char
Sort of like numbers on a scale; sure, they tell you something, but do they tell you what's really there? No. They give you a number which is your weight, sure, but they don't tell you how much of that is muscle, how much is fat, or how much can be attributed to bone density/water. They don't tell you whether you're at a healthy weight for your body type/height. In different places they can tell you different things; at different times of day, the same. They don't tell you whether you're pink or green or yellow or covered in feathers or elephant skin - or a normal human being. That's what age-numbers are like for me too; they tell you something, but if you were to base your entire opinion around that one thing you'd be missing out on all of the other elements that make up that person. A number is only a number, just like a name is only a name. But I'm not going to go into my whole 'why-categorising-things-is-what's-making-us-backwards' debate, both because I haven't entirely formulated it and because I don't really have time (exam time wooooohoooo).
Time is another one of those things that has really hit me lately. My closest friend and I have had a number of discussions about it; it's one of those things that constantly circulates around our minds. Personally, I think time is simultaneously the shortest and the longest thing. You think you have all of the time in the world to prepare for something, and then it slips away and BAM it's in your face. You think you have all the time in the world to speak to someone before they leave, and then they disappear and the moment has gone. You remember when you were 10 like it was yesterday, but at the same time you remember all of the things that have happened, how much has changed, since then. It's so long and it's so short, and it's completely insane. There's a lot to be said for living in the moment and taking chances when they come along; some never come along again, and no one has time to wait forever.
When you get to my age, you start realising things about yourself. Maybe you already knew them in some way, but they become somehow more crystal clear. There are things that once seemed so important to you that you now don't think anything of, whether they're superficial or otherwise. There are plans you once made that you plan to see through, and others that you let go. You reorganise your priorities, re-evaluate what matters and what doesn't, and finally understand what you do and don't like and what you can and won't compromise on.
For example, I've grown incredibly tired of people playing games - whether they're doing it romantically or amicably, with the best or the worst of intentions, deliberately or inadvertently (though particularly deliberately). I don't like drama or gossip or lies, I don't like heartache, I don't like waiting; I like honesty, I like openness, and I like when you can say what you think without having to think about whether someone's going to try and 'interpret' what you say and how they might do it. Maybe I'm a bit too straight-forwards like that, but I don't like complications.
When you get to my age you still have a lot to learn, but it's the next stage in the learning journey: it's a whole new style of learning which has very little to do with what other people tell you and everything to do with what you tell yourself. You've learnt that you make mistakes, and that other people do too; you've learnt that they shape you and you'll carry them onwards with you, and all you can do is learn from them, let them go, and not make the same mistakes again. You've learnt to let go of those stupid little things that bothered you in the past, and smile and laugh about them for the insignificant things they were. You have lived, you have loved, you have laughed, and you have learned - and ultimately, that's all you can do.
Well, when you get to my age, you'll understand - whether you agree or not is a completely different question.
PEACE! And to those of you revising for exams - or procrastinating revising for exams (...) - good luck <3
Char
Thursday, 19 April 2012
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By:
Charli B
Number 123: The Break-Up Shake-Up
At the moment it feels like everyone who has had a bad parting experience with a lover, or potential lover, has taken to expressing their pain in increasingly insane and public ways. We've seen them all over the internet; the woman whose text messages to Kevin suggest she might need some serious psychological help; Dimitri the lover with an astonishing ego; the woman in England who drove her ex-boyfriends car into the bowling alley where he worked as revenge; etc. etc. etc. They are everywhere. And not just in the far away world of 'he said, she said' land, where rumours are all we really have; it's in my own immediate vicinity too. When did breaking up become something so incredibly dramatic?
I'm not going to pretend that a break up is a pleasurable experience. Particularly if it's a really bad break up or one more wanted by one party than by the other. Even the break ups which are mutual can be incredibly painful, sometimes especially those ones. When you get into a relationship, you're usually not thinking about breaking up nor wanting after it, suffice it to say. And when it happens, depending on how it happens, there is inevitably a moment of complete befuddlement which passes and gives way to whatever emotion it might be that the break up inspires. Sometimes it's hatred, sometimes it's shock, sometimes it's grief. It all depends, really - the break-up shake-up hits us all differently, and I get that.
What I find difficult to understand is the sudden switch from really caring about someone to being so upset with them you take to drastic/crazy measures to prove that you're over them (which I don't think it really does, at all) or to prove that you really care. Maybe it's just that I've never really been super crazy for someone like that, maybe it's just that I'm a bit more stable than the likes of the stalkers/egoists/violent types. I suppose in a way it's a cry for attention; the woman who crashed the car into the bowling alley probably just wanted him to say something that showed he'd cared about her once. The textaholic might just have needed some proper closure on whatever happened. Dimitri the egoist obviously just wanted some attention. But the ways that they've chosen to do it are the complete opposite of how they might have attained it; from what I've been told, the way to get someone back into your life or to keep them around is not to go completely insane but to show them what they're missing - and in showing them what they're missing, you actually end up showing yourself that actually you're pretty alright without them. You move on; they (most likely) move on, and you keep going - without a criminal record or a clinginess ridiculed on an international scale.
But how have things really changed in the crazy break up world? Have they really changed at all? There are some pretty impressive examples of bad break ups you can find in the history books. Henry VIII is an obvious one, choosing to behead two of his six wives, and a long time before that Dido, the queen of Carthage, fell for a man named Aeneas. When she found out that he was leaving she threw herself onto a pyre. Greek mythology is similarly scattered with the sufferings people stumble into when they stumble out of love. During the early middle ages, Abelard and his (very) young love, Heloise, had an awkward time of things when their affair was found out: her uncle ordered the castration of Abelard and then Abelard asked Heloise to become a nun. Because obviously if he couldn't have her, nobody else should be able to. Now that's love.
I personally can't imagine ever being in a situation where I wanted to hurt any of my ex's. Even if we parted on less than amicable terms. I also can't imagine ever writing to them again and again and again begging them to get back together - primarily because I don't feel that way for them but secondarily because it would be completely insane. Life always goes on. I guess that's what makes it so hard for me to understand what must be going through these peoples minds when they do these things; sure, one love affair has ended, but the fact that it ends means another one, hopefully a more successful one, can begin. It's obviously going to be painful for a while, and there are emotions you have to process, but processing them by driving cars into things, stalking them, or having people beheaded seems a bit... radical. And I'm not entirely sure it fixes the problem, or gives you closure on your emotions.
I don't really have a concluding statement; my brain is more than a little bit overloaded from a job interview I had this morning to a series of thoughts I've had this evening. If I could articulate those thoughts I probably would have written about them here, but at the moment they're just... streams coursing around my mind. So I'm off to get some studying done and take my mind off of things.
Peace out lovely world.
Char
xoxo
I'm not going to pretend that a break up is a pleasurable experience. Particularly if it's a really bad break up or one more wanted by one party than by the other. Even the break ups which are mutual can be incredibly painful, sometimes especially those ones. When you get into a relationship, you're usually not thinking about breaking up nor wanting after it, suffice it to say. And when it happens, depending on how it happens, there is inevitably a moment of complete befuddlement which passes and gives way to whatever emotion it might be that the break up inspires. Sometimes it's hatred, sometimes it's shock, sometimes it's grief. It all depends, really - the break-up shake-up hits us all differently, and I get that.
What I find difficult to understand is the sudden switch from really caring about someone to being so upset with them you take to drastic/crazy measures to prove that you're over them (which I don't think it really does, at all) or to prove that you really care. Maybe it's just that I've never really been super crazy for someone like that, maybe it's just that I'm a bit more stable than the likes of the stalkers/egoists/violent types. I suppose in a way it's a cry for attention; the woman who crashed the car into the bowling alley probably just wanted him to say something that showed he'd cared about her once. The textaholic might just have needed some proper closure on whatever happened. Dimitri the egoist obviously just wanted some attention. But the ways that they've chosen to do it are the complete opposite of how they might have attained it; from what I've been told, the way to get someone back into your life or to keep them around is not to go completely insane but to show them what they're missing - and in showing them what they're missing, you actually end up showing yourself that actually you're pretty alright without them. You move on; they (most likely) move on, and you keep going - without a criminal record or a clinginess ridiculed on an international scale.
But how have things really changed in the crazy break up world? Have they really changed at all? There are some pretty impressive examples of bad break ups you can find in the history books. Henry VIII is an obvious one, choosing to behead two of his six wives, and a long time before that Dido, the queen of Carthage, fell for a man named Aeneas. When she found out that he was leaving she threw herself onto a pyre. Greek mythology is similarly scattered with the sufferings people stumble into when they stumble out of love. During the early middle ages, Abelard and his (very) young love, Heloise, had an awkward time of things when their affair was found out: her uncle ordered the castration of Abelard and then Abelard asked Heloise to become a nun. Because obviously if he couldn't have her, nobody else should be able to. Now that's love.
I personally can't imagine ever being in a situation where I wanted to hurt any of my ex's. Even if we parted on less than amicable terms. I also can't imagine ever writing to them again and again and again begging them to get back together - primarily because I don't feel that way for them but secondarily because it would be completely insane. Life always goes on. I guess that's what makes it so hard for me to understand what must be going through these peoples minds when they do these things; sure, one love affair has ended, but the fact that it ends means another one, hopefully a more successful one, can begin. It's obviously going to be painful for a while, and there are emotions you have to process, but processing them by driving cars into things, stalking them, or having people beheaded seems a bit... radical. And I'm not entirely sure it fixes the problem, or gives you closure on your emotions.
I don't really have a concluding statement; my brain is more than a little bit overloaded from a job interview I had this morning to a series of thoughts I've had this evening. If I could articulate those thoughts I probably would have written about them here, but at the moment they're just... streams coursing around my mind. So I'm off to get some studying done and take my mind off of things.
Peace out lovely world.
Char
xoxo
Tuesday, 10 April 2012
|
By:
Charli B
Number 122: Ogres and Onions
One of my favourite fictional film characters of all time once said something incredibly insightful. Don't judge me; that character is Shrek. Yes, I do mean the big, green ogre with bad teeth and insane/unhealthy amounts of ear wax. The point is that in the first, and the best, Shrek film (circa 2000) he said something which I have found to be very true. And that little relic of wisdom is:
In my short little life, I've learned that most people - myself included - are like onions. No, I don't mean that I smell like an onion (....I really hope I don't smell like an onion...) And no, I probably won't make you cry - deliberately, at least. Unless you're really very mean to me. But like Shrek, I have a lot of layers and it can be very hard to penetrate them - let alone to understand them.
I have always been a relatively open person; I don't like keeping secrets and I don't like hiding things. It creates a stack of unnecessary confusion and can lead to some very awkward and uncomfortable and painful situations. I say what I mean with varying levels of frankness and, except for the occasions where I find my words have gone (very rare occasions), I'll usually tell people exactly what I'm thinking or feeling when they ask. And, because I'm me, I usually endeavour to do so as politely as possible.
That being said, there are things about me that I do keep very hush-hush. It might be hard to believe given that many of the things I've chosen to write about on here have involved sharing some very personal details, but there are some very very personal things (only two things, actually) that I really don't think that everyone needs to know. In fact, I've only shared these two things with a couple of people. For a number of reasons. It's not that I find it difficult to open up, it's more that these things are very difficult to open up about because of how deep they run and how personal they really are. There's a reason I've smacked layers around these core pieces, put it that way.
Most of the time when people go at onions, they use knives to cut them open - or you know, gnash at them with some really gnarly teeth. We do the same to people; we engage in conversations with them and ask questions with varying levels of intent and imposition, slicing them apart in which ever way we choose. Sometimes more gently than other times. Sometimes quicker than other times. We take what we learn and we put it all together in a brand new shell; we look at what we're given and form our own impression of it. A lot of the time, the impression of the onion has pieces missing. Pieces which that person has left out or pieces that the piecer-togetherer has left to the side, deliberately or otherwise. Sometimes they're core pieces and our image of is fatally incomplete; sometimes they're tiny and superfluous details which, in the scheme of things, mean nothing. The point is that reality hardly ever matches an image.
Sometimes we have more time to piece together the impression, which gradually allows us to build a more accurate picture. Is it ever an entirely complete picture? No. But you'd be surprised how close you can come, given the right time and the right relationship. Recently I divulged one of my core pieces, one of those two things I don't share with everyone, to my closest friend - a few years after it strolled into my own little onion, and having known her for a couple of years. It's not that I didn't think earlier that she would understand; I knew she would. But there are times and places in relationships to share core pieces. The other day was ours.
The thing is that the core pieces which make up a person come in all shapes and sizes; some of them matter a hell of a lot more than other ones. Not everyone needs to know the ones of vast importance. Not all core pieces are easily spoken about. Which is why sometimes the questions which cut to my core remain unanswered, get deferred, or get really very vague or general answers. But you'll have to trust, if I give you one of these answers, that my intention isn't to push you away or shut you out - unless I explicitly say that's what I'm doing. It's just that at that point in time, I mightn't have the words to explain it. And you'll understand why one day, just maybe not today. These core pieces take time, and I'm pretty sure that the people who deserve to know those core pieces are the ones who understand that about me and feel the same about their own inner workings. Ultimately we're all onions - or are we ultimately all ogres? Hmm. Dilemma.
I'm sure there's another film character who said something equally wise, if not more so, about how complicated people really are. I'm also sure that there have been songs written about those sorts of things; the way we keep some things hidden and what it can do should you allow it to. And I'm certain that there are far more eloquent and articulate ways of writing about what I've just written about. But today feels like a Shrek kind of day; it's the sort of weather which for some reason reminds me of Paris and of being on the cusp of everything. She says as though she's 9 million years old. And on that note, I should probably do some studying of the Hellenistic World before the day has run away completely and I've wasted it entirely (...academically, anyway). Sorry if none of this made sense!
PEACE
xoxo
"Ogres are like onions."
I have always been a relatively open person; I don't like keeping secrets and I don't like hiding things. It creates a stack of unnecessary confusion and can lead to some very awkward and uncomfortable and painful situations. I say what I mean with varying levels of frankness and, except for the occasions where I find my words have gone (very rare occasions), I'll usually tell people exactly what I'm thinking or feeling when they ask. And, because I'm me, I usually endeavour to do so as politely as possible.
That being said, there are things about me that I do keep very hush-hush. It might be hard to believe given that many of the things I've chosen to write about on here have involved sharing some very personal details, but there are some very very personal things (only two things, actually) that I really don't think that everyone needs to know. In fact, I've only shared these two things with a couple of people. For a number of reasons. It's not that I find it difficult to open up, it's more that these things are very difficult to open up about because of how deep they run and how personal they really are. There's a reason I've smacked layers around these core pieces, put it that way.
Most of the time when people go at onions, they use knives to cut them open - or you know, gnash at them with some really gnarly teeth. We do the same to people; we engage in conversations with them and ask questions with varying levels of intent and imposition, slicing them apart in which ever way we choose. Sometimes more gently than other times. Sometimes quicker than other times. We take what we learn and we put it all together in a brand new shell; we look at what we're given and form our own impression of it. A lot of the time, the impression of the onion has pieces missing. Pieces which that person has left out or pieces that the piecer-togetherer has left to the side, deliberately or otherwise. Sometimes they're core pieces and our image of is fatally incomplete; sometimes they're tiny and superfluous details which, in the scheme of things, mean nothing. The point is that reality hardly ever matches an image.
Sometimes we have more time to piece together the impression, which gradually allows us to build a more accurate picture. Is it ever an entirely complete picture? No. But you'd be surprised how close you can come, given the right time and the right relationship. Recently I divulged one of my core pieces, one of those two things I don't share with everyone, to my closest friend - a few years after it strolled into my own little onion, and having known her for a couple of years. It's not that I didn't think earlier that she would understand; I knew she would. But there are times and places in relationships to share core pieces. The other day was ours.
The thing is that the core pieces which make up a person come in all shapes and sizes; some of them matter a hell of a lot more than other ones. Not everyone needs to know the ones of vast importance. Not all core pieces are easily spoken about. Which is why sometimes the questions which cut to my core remain unanswered, get deferred, or get really very vague or general answers. But you'll have to trust, if I give you one of these answers, that my intention isn't to push you away or shut you out - unless I explicitly say that's what I'm doing. It's just that at that point in time, I mightn't have the words to explain it. And you'll understand why one day, just maybe not today. These core pieces take time, and I'm pretty sure that the people who deserve to know those core pieces are the ones who understand that about me and feel the same about their own inner workings. Ultimately we're all onions - or are we ultimately all ogres? Hmm. Dilemma.
I'm sure there's another film character who said something equally wise, if not more so, about how complicated people really are. I'm also sure that there have been songs written about those sorts of things; the way we keep some things hidden and what it can do should you allow it to. And I'm certain that there are far more eloquent and articulate ways of writing about what I've just written about. But today feels like a Shrek kind of day; it's the sort of weather which for some reason reminds me of Paris and of being on the cusp of everything. She says as though she's 9 million years old. And on that note, I should probably do some studying of the Hellenistic World before the day has run away completely and I've wasted it entirely (...academically, anyway). Sorry if none of this made sense!
PEACE
xoxo
Wednesday, 4 April 2012
|
By:
Charli B
Number 121: Choices
I am one of those people who believes that we choose the way that we see things. In every interaction that we have with other people, in whatever situations life throws our way, we choose how we interpret them and thus we choose what we feel about them. There are a number of reasons this thoughtstream has entered into my mind, which as you probably know is thoroughly littered with thoughtstreams to the extent that it becomes very difficult sometimes to separate them. Recently something happened in my personal life which I handled in a way I've received a touch of criticism for, and so I'd like to address that criticism in the familiar Charlotte-an round about way.
Basically the criticism was that I was 'too nice' in my reaction to being told something and that obviously if I was already saying I was trying to move forwards and let go I didn't care in the first place. This, my darlings, is bollocks. It's the fact that I do care which allows me to keep going and to not harbour any negative feelings, aside from a bit of sadness because the dreamer in me will always wonder what wonderful things could have been. That's what makes me able to still look and say you know what, I wish you all the best in every endeavour and I really hope and want us to be friends. Kind of a la Adele- Someone Like You, without the summer haze and glory days and turning up out of the blue uninvited. I genuinely care for this person, and I want nothing but the best for him wherever he is and whoever he ends up with. And I hope he doesn't forget me - but I don't think I'll beg him not to, sorry Adele. I've truly enjoyed getting to know him over the last few months; he's interesting, intelligent, sweet, fun, and incredibly sexy - which we all know is a very rare combination.
But the point is that in the situation which arose, I had a choice in how I reacted - and I exercised that choice in exactly the way I believe in doing things and in a way which is very representative of my character. I looked at what had happened and decided that rather than acting like an immature little diva and throwing a hissy fit or being rude or dismissive or just not responding at all, I would take the news for what it was. Ultimately being that rude/immature/dismissive person would only have left us both feeling like shite, not to mention all of the conversations and time it would have turned into some sort of a terribly dark grief filled occurrence rather than the fun, interesting times they've been. And also not to mention the friendship it would have ruined; I truly value our conversations and I value him as a friend.
I chose not to be that person (primarily because I am definitely not that person); I chose to accept what happened and to start the process of letting it go, because that's what's best for the both of us even if it means the end of one dream. The idea that I should have been a terrible person to him is ludicrous to me; he did absolutely nothing wrong, why on earth would I punish someone for feeling something? Particularly someone who I've grown to respect so much? How could I want anything but happiness for him? In the absolute worst case scenario, I've lost a lover but I've gained a friend (unless he reads this and hates me for it - please don't!) - and the most influential people in my life, to date, have been my friends and my family. The positive in the negative peeps.
It is, of course, true that no amount of positive thinking will take something truly crappy and turn it into a positive. It's very difficult, for example, to look at death and find something positive which comes out of it. "Wahey, one less person on the over-populated planet!" is not likely to be one of the thoughts you find yourself thinking when you hear about the death of a loved one - and if you have thought that way in a serious manner, I really hope you're not one of my loved ones! But what it is possible to do is to look at the terrible, heartbreaking situation that it no doubt is and shift the focus from what's over and gone to what once was there and what has been left behind. The things, as cheesy as it sounds, that that person inspired in you and that you'll carry for the rest of your life. There's always a positive somewhere lost in the negative, and when you find it it provides you with the strength you need to go on.
People with thoroughly pessimistic attitudes irritate me; not even necessarily because I disagree completely but because a lot of them have chosen to look at things in the absolute worst possible light and allowed darkness to encompass them completely. I just want to shake them and tell them to stop moping about and look for what is right in the world, because even though it's not all over the place it bloody can be found (oh, look at me swearing on my blog - my bad! Would go back and delete it but I really can't be bothered. You'll just have to live with it.) if you bother looking for it. Even in my darkest days (believe you me, I had them) I still found myself remembering the things that were, and still are, right in my world: my friends, my family, my dog, and the love I share with them. And the all important truth that life keeps going no matter what you think of it. So why not look at it as something you keep learning from? Why not look at it as the blessing that it is and make the most of it?
I realise that I've digressed a bit here, but you'll just have to deal with it. The fact is that whether or not you believe that I handled what happened correctly I believe I did. And you can agree with that or disagree with it, but given the choice between friends and jilted lover, I know which one I would choose every-single-time. And on that note, I should probably eat something as it feeeeels about dinner time ish - actually it feels way late dinner time ish... Oops.
PEACE.
xoxo
Basically the criticism was that I was 'too nice' in my reaction to being told something and that obviously if I was already saying I was trying to move forwards and let go I didn't care in the first place. This, my darlings, is bollocks. It's the fact that I do care which allows me to keep going and to not harbour any negative feelings, aside from a bit of sadness because the dreamer in me will always wonder what wonderful things could have been. That's what makes me able to still look and say you know what, I wish you all the best in every endeavour and I really hope and want us to be friends. Kind of a la Adele- Someone Like You, without the summer haze and glory days and turning up out of the blue uninvited. I genuinely care for this person, and I want nothing but the best for him wherever he is and whoever he ends up with. And I hope he doesn't forget me - but I don't think I'll beg him not to, sorry Adele. I've truly enjoyed getting to know him over the last few months; he's interesting, intelligent, sweet, fun, and incredibly sexy - which we all know is a very rare combination.
But the point is that in the situation which arose, I had a choice in how I reacted - and I exercised that choice in exactly the way I believe in doing things and in a way which is very representative of my character. I looked at what had happened and decided that rather than acting like an immature little diva and throwing a hissy fit or being rude or dismissive or just not responding at all, I would take the news for what it was. Ultimately being that rude/immature/dismissive person would only have left us both feeling like shite, not to mention all of the conversations and time it would have turned into some sort of a terribly dark grief filled occurrence rather than the fun, interesting times they've been. And also not to mention the friendship it would have ruined; I truly value our conversations and I value him as a friend.
I chose not to be that person (primarily because I am definitely not that person); I chose to accept what happened and to start the process of letting it go, because that's what's best for the both of us even if it means the end of one dream. The idea that I should have been a terrible person to him is ludicrous to me; he did absolutely nothing wrong, why on earth would I punish someone for feeling something? Particularly someone who I've grown to respect so much? How could I want anything but happiness for him? In the absolute worst case scenario, I've lost a lover but I've gained a friend (unless he reads this and hates me for it - please don't!) - and the most influential people in my life, to date, have been my friends and my family. The positive in the negative peeps.
It is, of course, true that no amount of positive thinking will take something truly crappy and turn it into a positive. It's very difficult, for example, to look at death and find something positive which comes out of it. "Wahey, one less person on the over-populated planet!" is not likely to be one of the thoughts you find yourself thinking when you hear about the death of a loved one - and if you have thought that way in a serious manner, I really hope you're not one of my loved ones! But what it is possible to do is to look at the terrible, heartbreaking situation that it no doubt is and shift the focus from what's over and gone to what once was there and what has been left behind. The things, as cheesy as it sounds, that that person inspired in you and that you'll carry for the rest of your life. There's always a positive somewhere lost in the negative, and when you find it it provides you with the strength you need to go on.
People with thoroughly pessimistic attitudes irritate me; not even necessarily because I disagree completely but because a lot of them have chosen to look at things in the absolute worst possible light and allowed darkness to encompass them completely. I just want to shake them and tell them to stop moping about and look for what is right in the world, because even though it's not all over the place it bloody can be found (oh, look at me swearing on my blog - my bad! Would go back and delete it but I really can't be bothered. You'll just have to live with it.) if you bother looking for it. Even in my darkest days (believe you me, I had them) I still found myself remembering the things that were, and still are, right in my world: my friends, my family, my dog, and the love I share with them. And the all important truth that life keeps going no matter what you think of it. So why not look at it as something you keep learning from? Why not look at it as the blessing that it is and make the most of it?
I realise that I've digressed a bit here, but you'll just have to deal with it. The fact is that whether or not you believe that I handled what happened correctly I believe I did. And you can agree with that or disagree with it, but given the choice between friends and jilted lover, I know which one I would choose every-single-time. And on that note, I should probably eat something as it feeeeels about dinner time ish - actually it feels way late dinner time ish... Oops.
PEACE.
xoxo
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