Growing Up

Why is it that we are so self-centered when we want something? So self centered to the point where you don't realise what those close to you are feeling or even care what they think. How do we manage to push their opinions and their feelings out of mind? How does something become more important than those we love?

I have been so intent on wanting to be married. I thought that because we had discussed it, that it was all out in the open, that it was all ok...except for the conditions he had imposed. So now that I have reached the age condition what now? I had been so focused on wanting to be married that forgot to find out exactly how HE felt about it. And so we had that awkward discussion.

We can often think irrationally when we are so intently focused on something we want. And that is what I did. I know that I want this - to be married. But I had forgotten to think of all the practical things, things that HE was thinking of. And when we discuss it the mature and practical thoughts he has terrify me, they make it seem so real...but isn't that what I want?

To be honest, the idea of being married, especially at my age, both terrifies and excites me. It excites me for the sole reason of marrying the love of my life and committing myself to him. But it also terrifies me because I wonder if I am ready. I am only 20, and although I have become independent of sorts by living out of home, I wonder if I am really ready to step out and start a new family.

We are often told to grow up, and I thought that had come with time, but when do we really know we have? How do we tell?

Mental torture

I realise that I haven't blogged in a while, but I had a few thoughts tonight...

Why is it that we choose to torture ourselves and submit ourselves to things that we know affect us in what would be described as the "wrong way"? This is the thought I am having tonight. I am sitting at home, listening to the Transformers 2 soundtrack and there is a common theme in the songs that I don't think is mentally healthy for me to listen to at this time...and yet I continue to do so.

OK, so on the weekend I had a friend's engagement party, which was hard enough for me to get through. Not that I wasn't incredibly happy for them, I am. But the fact that they are younger and have been together less time is frustrating to me. I know that I really want to get married - I am with the love of my life. But I know that I have issues that I need to sort out before we do. And I suppose this ties in to what I am listening to tonight.

The theme of the songs from the Transformer's 2 soundtrack are based around lost love. And for some reason, as I sit at home alone listening to this, I begin to feel incredibly lonely and it eats away at the back of my mind. And so I think to myself 'why do I continue to listen to this?'

But would I be the only one who has even done this? Some girls would feel detached from their partners and yet continue to watch romantic movies. Boys would lose their licences and yet continue to want after cars. And so I feel lonely and listen to music which only fuels this feeling.

What makes us subjects ourselves to this kind of mental torture? Why do we insist on continuing habits we know are unhealthy for ourselves? I don't know the answer.

Mistakes

There is a quote that JD from Scrubs says that I just can't get out of my head: "Even if you've done a procedure five thousand times, there's no guarantee you won't screw up number five thousand, one."

So what is it that makes us mess up what is most likely second nature to us? We have done things so many times before, so what makes this time different? Do we never truly master anything? Or are we simply distracted that five thousand, first time?

They say that practice makes perfect, but what makes that four thousand nine hundred and ninety nineth time so different to the five thousand, first? What is it that distracts us?

So can we stop ourselves from repeating the mistakes we make? Does practice ever really stop us from making them? Or does life work on ratios? 5000:1 right to wrong? But generally the odds are substantially lower, at least that is what I've found...or is that just me?

Dreaming...

Below is a dream that I had last weekend. It's taken me all week to write it down as it didn't make a whole lot of sense, but here's my best shot:

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I made the decision that I had to go back to that place. I couldn't just leave my friends there, knowing what was really going on. They couldn't believe that I had just abandoned them, I had to let them know I had escaped...and what I had escaped from.

I guessed the best time to go and see them would be in the evening. I had to be very careful not to be seen, for a couple reasons. First of all, I did not need anyone to recognise me. Secondly, no one else knew about my powers, and that could lead to a lot of awkward questions.

As I snuck along the shadows I glanced up the multi-story building that used to entrap me, shuddering at the memories. I reached the base of the building and slowly levitated up towards. I still could not look down as I did this, I was still not a fan of heights, despite the fact that now I could fly. When I reached the seventh floor I quickly checked to make sure no one was in the room and entered. I had chosen to come during dinner time, when I could be guaranteed the rooms would be empty.

I checked the clock on the wall and I had about a half hour before my friends would be back from dinner. I snuck out of the room I had entered and into the hallway to get to my old room when I heard someone coming. I went in the first door I could find, the girls bathroom, and hid in one of the cubicles.

Just as I had closed the door and locked it I heard the sound of laughter and two girls enter, my friends in fact. But I could not reveal myself yet, there was something nagging at the back on my mind - why had they come in here right after me? I was sceptical about the coincidence, and I had a right to be.

As they were washing their hands the door opened again and I heard the heavy footsteps that haunted me. It was one of the men that ran the facility. He asked my friends about whether they had seen me, and he enquired about the stall that was locked ... the one that I was in. He was so suspicious that I thought he already knew I was here, and I heard the footsteps approach my stall. I levitated off the ground so he could not see any feet under the door. His actions to me were appropriate, but I heard protests of disgust and disapproval from my friends.

"Go on, get back to dinner," he said, ushering my friends out the door.

I couldn't risk leaving out the front so I opened a window and managed to squeeze out and fly around to the balcony of my friends' room.

I waited there for about 15 minutes before they arrived back in their room. When they saw me they were really surprised, and I had to insist strongly that they keep quiet.

"But what happened? Where did you go?"

They fired questions at me, but I could hear those familiar heavy footsteps in the corridor outside.

"I don't really have time to explain it all at the moment. Just come out to the balcony with me," I said, and they followed me. The balcony overlooked a large field, surrounded by a think 6-foot high stone wall which divided the land from the forest that stretched as far as the eye could see. This used to be such a peaceful place to be.

Just as we got out on the balcony the door to the room opened and the man who had confronted my friends in the bathroom appeared. His eyes widened when he saw me and a look of both disgust and attraction flashed across his face.

"You guys are going to have to trust me," I said to my friends as I put an arm around each of them and jumped over the balcony fence.

The screams in my ears were deafening as I kept all three of us from plummeting to our deaths.

But I had overestimated my powers. Instead of being able to fly away, my powers failed and I used all my remaining strength to lower us gently to the ground seven floors below before passing out.

When I woke up I was back in the dungeon where I had escaped from just weeks beforehand. My hands and feet were both bound with chains and I felt so weak.

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And that's where I woke up for real...

Ramblings

I have a lot of random thoughts. I generally get them while listening to something that grabs my attention and pulls it in another direction. (If that made sense I think we have issues...) But I was listening to a news report about war in Afghanistan and, as only my mind would, wondered, 'would I be able to kill someone?'

What is your first, knee jerk response? Yes? In self defence? That was my first thought too. But then I thought about it more...

OK, I have quite a vivid, perhaps twisted imagination when it comes to my writing, and I have put my main character into a self-defence position on multiple occasions. Yes, she's killed, and (one of my characters) then went on to become a serial killer, trying her very best to protect the identity she has changed so many times she cannot remember. But I don't think I could do it. The emotion that my character expresses and the pure hatred that she feels is something completely foreign to me. I have never felt that afraid or hated someone so much I wanted them dead.

But then I begin to wonder...how can I write these things if I have never felt them? But that is a whole other story.

Rebellion

This is something I wrote quickly at work today...

At what age do we stop rebelling? I know it is very normal for teenagers to go through a phase of rebellion, testing out the waters and seeing how far they can push the boundaries with their parents. I know it drives them crazy, and I guess that's more of an incentive to do it, right? But what if you aren't living at home with your parents, do you lose the motivation for rebelling? What rules are there that you are breaking? None, right?

So what comes next? Breaking general moral rules set for society...even laws. Excessive alcohol consumption, drugs, sex and rock and roll, aren't these the very things our parents were trying to keep us away from? But without them around, we are freer to access these things, flaunt them and not worry about the consequences of them coming home and finding you severely hungover.

We are taught throughout our teenage years about responsible alcohol consumption and about saying no to drugs. So what makes us drink to excess and say yes to what we know is poisoning our body? It's all about rebellion. Peer pressure to be in the "cool" crowd, to be a rebel. To defy authority and flaunt our disrespect.

Ask yourself this question: if you were offered to try some drugs, would you?

Why?

Writer's Block

I have been wanting for some time now, to be able to write something. Not a blog, but a story. I haven't really been able to write anything since I finished college and started working, and it's upsetting for me, as it was quite a big part of who I am. Even though I rarely ever finish a story, I'm struggling to even write any short prose. I'm enveying Gretel who has written a few good poems lately.

This weekend for me has felt lonely. Friday night I didn't go home with Jesse and stayed in the city because Gretel and Rosie were supposed to be home...but with Gretel sick they spent the night in Elizabeth. Then Saturday arvo/night we went bowling and had dinner with a few friends, but people pulled out at the last minute and it was kinda upsetting but I suppose they had their reasons. I didn't end up going clubbing as I was tired and only Luke was free to go with and I just didn't have the energy. (And Jesse had already left, and he was the only one I really wanted to spend time with) Sunday, Rosie had left before I got up, and I didn't have any real human contact until I got to Rage tonight. It was good to catch up with Gretel, and I'm glad she's feeling better today. But tonight I am on my own again...Rosie is staying in Lobey again as it's convenient for work tomorrow, which is fair enough.

The thing that surprises me though, is that, although I know full well my alarm is going to go off at 6.45am I am still awake. My mind doesn't want to shut itself down, and I am forcing myself to write all this down so I can get it out and perhaps tire myself into sleep.

Goodnight.