Before i forget.

Never have I known what it is to be content
Then she turned to me in the darkness of the movie theatre
And mouthed “I love you”

This post comes on the eve of the final exam of my bachelors of mass media. For most people a 100th post may not be that important but my tumblr contains more of me and my thought process than anything else.
I wouldn’t want to put a lot of effort into this because I don’t want to make this seem rehearsed so I guess a good old fashioned round of rambling is in order.

One of my first posts in this blog was me fretting about the future. Well, here I am standing at the brink of the end of my undergraduate course and I’m ALMOST as clueless as I was three years ago. I have developed some interests along the way and met a few interesting people but I’m still me, which I think is a good thing. Like the first post, I will reiterate: Confusion isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Over the span of this three year program I have continued on my path of self discovery. I doubt it is ever going to end because I continuously find myself questioning my intent, my interests, my code of conduct.

I am my favourite mystery and even though I know myself better than anybody else, I also, don’t know. 

My attitudes towards things and people are constantly changing, sometimes back and forth. For me, making a concrete judgement seems to be quite a task. Today I might feel the urge to know and tomorrow I might rejoice in my fickleness. I think the good thing is, I’m at peace with that.

Why do we need to constantly adhere to what people expect of us? Why are we so scared of letting people down or disappointing them? Why must be behave in a certain way just because “that’s what people do”?

Why must we be so self-absorbed? Why can’t we get over ourselves? Why can’t we take the world less seriously? What is this constant need to be on a mission? Why can’t we live a little? Why aren’t we content? Why are we so easily pleased?

Why do we take things so lightly? Why do we take things at face value?

What’s the point of it all?

Tomorrow’s going to be the end (considering I pass) of yet another segment of my journey. I hope I’ll have the guts to chase my dreams and not think they’re too big or sacrifice one dream for another.

I am not going to be content. Not now at least.
If I die tomorrow, the world will lose nothing. That’s why.

This was an ordinary day. She sat by herself at the corner table reading a book, except she wasn’t really reading. Instead, every now and then she’d look at a passerby hoping they would express some kind of interest in her. She yearned for a stranger to make his way towards her and initiate a deep and enthralling conversation. Yes, a he. She’d love it to be a charming man, just like all those movies she’d watched.
He’d walk over to her, his eyes narrowed, trying to discern the title of the book she was reading, then she would look up, catching his attention and he would stop mid-stride, appear slightly flustered and say “sorry, I know it isn’t right to judge a book by its cover but your novel looked interesting and I just wanted to catch a glimpse of the title” or something like that.

She would look slightly taken back, take a second to gather herself and say “Of Love and other Demons by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Have you heard of him?” and he would quickly take a seat and hurriedly ask whether it was okay for him “to join” her and add “I’m sorry but Marquez is my favourite author.. I haven’t read this book yet, how is it?”

For the next hour they would talk about books and other things that interested them. He had varied interests and was unlike her in many ways, but that was a good thing. She liked different. After a while she’d look at her watch and exclaim “Oh no. I’ve got to be somewhere in a few minutes…” and she’d trail off. Without missing a heartbeat he’d say, with slight disappointment “okay. It was great talking to you… Would you mind doing this again sometime?” To which she’d smile and give him her number.

Yes, that would be nice she thought to herself, taking another sip of her coke.

When he talks you can’t help but listen
He spits fire and then douses it with the sincerity in his eyes
Leaving you to pick at the loose threads of your skirt
Your fingers feverishly working out a solution
When it should have been your brain.

You see your vulnerability staring back at you
Translated in his folded arms and easy smile
He’s caught you in a corner
And your nails aren’t going to dig a hole through these walls
There’s isn’t enough time for that.

So you do what you do best
You run.
You run hard and fast, past impulse and light headedness
You take a U-turn at possibility
Running straight into the waiting arms of habit.
Catching your breath and wiping your sweat.

That was close.

He delved into the space between her legs
His ears brushing past goosebumps
Her nails digging into his shoulders.

                           There was no romance,
                                          No caresses and shy glances

With his thumb pressed against her nipple
He proceeded to bite her ear lobe
Almost as if it were rehearsed,             she tensed
                                                      On cue, wrapping her legs around his waist

Hands running through his hair
Her eyes glazed over by sheer want

                           It wasn’t about romance
                           Or an act followed closely by consequence
                           It was an act to satisfy a need
                                                                     For a good fuck.

The thing which disturbs me about social networking and the likes of youtube is how we’ve become so preoccupied with selling ourselves. We are our own commodity. “Broadcast Yourself”.

I don’t know, maybe I’m a little conservative when it comes to certain things but I honestly get the feeling that there are very few things that can be referred to as “personal” now a days. 

What is this need to constantly market ourselves? Our pictures, our opinions, our likes, our dislikes, our fantasies, our hopes, what exactly we’re doing at this very moment.

I don’t get it.

Yes, the voice of the little man is being heard like never before. The blogger now reaches an audience that could rival a news executive. But that isn’t my issue.

I think my real issue lies in the fact that a stranger who’s never spoken to you might know as much about you as your best friend does.

I
Sit aside
On my own
Far from wandering gaze
And whispers of your beauty
In the confines of my thoughts
To marvel at the words you speak
Dancing from the edges of your parted lips
Caressing my ears with the sweet sound of you
Cradling my fragile hopeful heart like no book ever could.

This may be something that I’ll have to deal with throughout my life. This constant need for change. Change of place, people, way of living. Maybe I’m just not used to staying in one place for too long.
I don’t know.
All I know is that I need to get out because I’m losing my mind.