` 2014-03

18/03/2014

Brevity is the soul of wit and so forth...

Impermanence, I have come to realise recently, is a huge part of life.

As my phone relentlessly lost charge and re-started itself over and over, as the electronic screen glared me in the face, as my files and memos disappeared one by one as I reset my phone, I was enlightened to the fact that none of these photos that I had taken in the past few months would be kept forever. The sim card could easily break and even if you back up all your photos and memos on to your laptop, there's nothing physical about them. They live in these electronic realms of existence which could break at any one time.
The same thoughts ran through my mind as I searched frantically around the house for our wifi password which I had written down on a small piece of paper. This tiny piece of paper could be hiding anywhere in the house, it may have journeyed somehow to the bin or escaped out the window in a bid for freedom. I eventually acquired the wifi from my Dad's computer where it was stored. I found it ridiculous how a physical piece of paper could be lost more easily than something stored electronically. My own thoughts contradicted themselves and now I sit here writing this blog post as I wonder whether anything could ever be permanent.

This goes for relationships too as I have discovered. Having fairly recently broken off a long-term relationship I had come to realise that all idealisation of the relationship lasting was always false. I suppose at our peak I considered spending the rest of my life with him. After so long it felt like I could never get away from it, like it should carry on forever - not because I wanted it to but because that's how I felt it ought to be. It was the longest relationship I have ever been in and  that made it quite difficult to come to terms with being single and independent. But, honestly, I know that in my future there may be several break ups that'll prove further, that relationships will not last forever. I know this sounds depressing but every relationship will end in a break up, divorce or death.

The not so depressing part is that impermanence isn't always a bad thing. Often the more enjoyment you have the faster it goes and it is in this fleeting excitement that you experience the best moments in life. Impermanence means you can try new things. You can weave in and out of relationships, work your way round the globe, eat delicious food. You'll savour these experiences solely for their brevity. And of course "Brevity is the soul of wit". Even the most simple experiences are like this: I wouldn't truly appreciate my hot cup of tea if the mug automatically filled up after each sip.
I suppose what I'm trying to say is that you should relish life's surprises and life's restlessness because sometimes euphoria can come in short bursts and the shorter the simpler. The simpler, the better you feel.


13/03/2014

Because the only people for me are the mad ones...

How do you define weird? Abnormal, different, odd, strange, eccentric. Oh, all the possibilities of weird.
When you think about it, there are an infinite number of oddities. And logic follows that not any one person could be normal. So then how do you define normal? Is it simply your public behaviour, what you choose to display to the world. Is it really the way that everyone usually acts? We are not clones.
There is a very fine line between normal and weird and that, in itself, is an absurd idea which I simply cannot get my head around.
I have often found that those who I attach myself to the most, are the ones whose minds are streaming with ideas and are willing to display those whether in writing or in person. Throughout my whole education I have found myself most at home with the most messed up, insane, wild, catastrophic kids, whether they're emotionally unstable, reckless, mischievous, argumentative or all of the above. It's as though I take a check list along to every new school I attend and become best friends for life with the one with the worst reputation. Bonkers? Check. An outcast? check.
I stick to them like a lost child pining for a guardian.Then I feed off the excitement and trouble they create.
I sit and wonder what these 'weird' people all have in common.
These are lost passionate souls, awake and thriving in the wilderness that is modern society. They are creative, intelligent beings that freely roam and discover the very edges of possibility. Their recklessness widens my own eyes and excites me. And I respect the mad and the lonely and the impossible because they have no cares for the thoughts of others, or perhaps too many cares. They either make themselves 'weird' or simply thrust their personality into the void. People come and go, observe and watch the creatures that lurk. It is like watching animals at a zoo. Pet the tame avoid the unpredictable.
Make friends with them? why would you? They're far too odd. Discuss them? Despise them from afar? It's all too easy to do that.
I introduce myself to the odd ones, to the interesting and the intelligent with fresh fruit in the form of ideas, growing in their brains. I consider why they express themselves in the way they do. Isn't that the most interesting part? But then, maybe I'm weird.

All I know for sure is that I have learnt this:
"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow Roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars" 
- Jack Kerouac 'On the Road'

01/03/2014

Solitude


"There is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone"

I hear you Sylvia Plath.

Two years ago I found myself coming to the end of an era - the end of five years at boarding school where privacy was a rare and valued concept. For five years, the only time I could ever truly be alone was sitting in a toilet cubicle at midnight. Having shared a boarding house with around sixty girls and a dorm with ten girls, I came to appreciate any time I could spend alone where I could sing to myself, think out loud and dance like I'm Beyoncé. I couldn't be alone when showering, brushing my teeth or getting changed and it was as a result of this that I became conscious of every aspect of my daily routine. I was conscious of the way I spat toothpaste into the sink and I perfected the art of putting on underwear without revealing myself.
I value my solitude. I value lying in bed at night and not altering the rhythm of my breath so I don't inhale or exhale in time with my inmates. I value the lack of a uniform. I value not waking up to Katy Perry shouting me down each morning. I don't have to wake up at all. Nothing can interrupt my dreams if I please.
Solitude is vital to me. My thoughts are no longer interrupted by the whine of hair dryers in the morning or bitchy comments in the middle of the night. I can sleep without the sound of snoring mocking my exhaustion. I can choose who I take in to my bedroom. I can listen to silence instead of unintentionally eavesdropping on homesick phone calls to parents. I don't have to feel embarrassed about the posters I pin up on my wall or pyjamas I wear.
It is in the silence and privacy of my bedroom that I am most creative. I can write down my thoughts. I can write poetry. I can express my anger through wild interpretive dance if I please.
It's not just my bedroom where I find solitude. Walking down an empty street, I can appreciate my surroundings. I can sit on a bench and people watch. I can sit on a bus and stare out the window, listen to music and dwell in my solitude. It's a strange kind of enjoyable loneliness when I'm surrounded by others, like feeling entirely alone at a Gatsby-size party.

'And I like large parties, They're so intimate. At small parties there isn't any privacy'

-The Great Gatsby

Solitude sometimes creeps up on you in a crowded room but ultimately you don't have to be lonely. Your own company is often just as awesome as someone else's.