"The thing about crying in bed is that you end up with a wet pillow which is in itself an uncomfortable thing being cold and damp, and a blocked nose which then necessitates that you get up so as to breathe and so renders doubtful, if not negating, the possibility of crying oneself to sleep."
...
It's always good to find some humour, however dry or dark, in difficult situations. In times like these, you have to see the ludicrous side of things otherwise you'd go insane. After a while, when things get so regular that they become a fixture in one's life, one will hardly notice anything different even if the world trips you up, crumbles into a heap of flaming debris and threatens to bury you in the abyss. You would hardly notice anything's changed. That's probably when you can say you've achieved zen. Do you achieve zen? Or do you simply have it thrust upon you? Do you seek it? Or does it find you? Is everything chance or are some things just meant to be?
I've been watching "Ever After" again. I love that film. I saw it when I was 16 years old. It's coming on to be a decade now and I still love it. I watched it last night after meeting up with a friend, Dave, an old flatmate with whom I'd shared good times with and who'd hung around after everyone else had left. Ok that's unfair. Everyone gets really busy and everyone seems to know where they're going or at least pretend really well. Well, anyway he was telling me about how he'd like to take his girlfriend on a surprise trip, perhaps to Venice. I'd been telling him about how Arnie was going to be in Singapore for a weekend and I didn't know what he'd like to see or do. D asked if A's girlfriend would be there too and I said I didn't know, he hadn't said anything about that. D said A often took his girlfriend on trips as he's a bit more flush now at the overseas posting. And then after that somehow we got onto Venice, surprise getaways and all and I couldn't think of anything to say apart from, "That's really nice." and felt a bit silly. I mean, how do people react to that kind of stuff? It just reminded me of when Jon was wooing Cathy and he'd asked me if I'd like chocolate coated strawberries. It's like, "Yes that's really nice" and then what? What do you want me to say? "Even nicer if they're from you to me?"
Obviously I didn't say that at the time. If you love them set them free. Their happiness is your happiness.
A few years down the road, I can be a wee bit more sure about some things at least. It's been a long time since I was a 19 year old having left home for the first time and finding things are generally quite complicated in life. At least this time time I'm certain that unlike the time when Jon asked me about chocolate-coated strawberries, it's not the same this time. It is not the knowledge that A and D love their girls that agitates me. Far from it in fact it makes me quite pleased to know my friends are nice people who value and cherish their other halves and not laddish louts. I don't wish that it was D or A but I know I wish it was F whisking me away on some lovely holiday. I just wish I had that again, their happy shiny-ness. Happy shiny people. I'm not saying they have no problems of their own but at least they have each other. The velvet cushion they can lean on and take comfort from when life gets tough. Life's not a bed of roses or maybe it is. It's a bed of roses with thorns, bugs, leaves and all. Just for some people, the roses are in full bloom, velvety soft and sweet smelling but mine seem to be dried out and withered, falling off and generally very thorny.
Life is a bed of roses. Complete with thorns, bugs, leaves and all.
With time everything fades
yes indeed that was something i said
for change is the only ever-unchanging thing
now doesn't that too have a familiar ring
Yet the shadows of your words
continue to haunt relentlessly
rising from the shallow graves of memory
now and again returning to plague me
their faces are painted in full colour
mine in the splendour of black and white
it is a portrait of a frightful sight
and a reflection of my dolour.
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