The Game That Is Life

Posted in Random Randomness by Randomique with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 5, 2009 by Randomique Jester

Why can’t we keep our thoughts to ourselves?

We need twenty different aliases, seven other personalities, hundreds of facial expressions, thirty-five different reactions, three different names and at least two email accounts.

We’re spreading ourselves over uncharted territory but instead of celebrating our particular, complete personality we’re dividing it into little aspects of ourselves that can’t define us.

People who met me in person, my friends, the readers of my various blogs, co-workers and school-mates – are all familiar with distinct but separate aspects of my personality. And if they all got together in one room they would argue, vivaciously I’m sure, about the kind of person I truly am.

We tend to hide behind a facade that is particularly appropriate in a given situation. I mean, you can’t express how cool and cynical you are by making nonchalant comments to your boss; even though he might appreciate these traits in different circumstances.

I’m sure there are people who wear their hearts and personalities on their sleeve  and they act the same way as they would in the office, with their friends and at home. Doing just that requires confidence. You have to feel like there’s nothing about you that needs hiding or should be toned down. It also requires being monodimnesional.

Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe we were never meant to be cautious of what others might think of us. Maybe these social standards are impeding our expression. Maybe we should wave one big middle finger in the air and not worry about being imperfect.

Maybe, but his is impossible for me to do. As a perfectionist and self-critic I like the little barriers I build between me and the rest of the people in my life. And what I like the most is the beautiful, inspiring notion of being able to make a brand new impression on a new set of eyes.

I thrive on this notion because wherever my failed attempts at self-transformation lead me I feel like I can wipe the slate clean and be that perfect, admirable role-model to someone.

But I also lack any shred of hope that this might be true in any period of time. How can anyone be considered admirable or perfect? Even celebrities with their perfect bodies and million dollar smiles wear make-up and have a photoshop expert at hand. Their actions and behaviors are mostly amusing rather than reverence inspiring. And yet, we want. We want our neighbour’s grass and the gnomes that come with it.

Surely, anything could be better than this. Other people must have it easier with their white picket fences, their sparkling teeth and shiny hair, their trained dogs, their trophy spouses and their polished yachts sailing in waves of cash.

If only it were that easy.

We were programmed to want more. We were brewed to never be satisfied. It doesn’t matter what cards we were dealt with or how we got to our next venture and weather we have succeeded. The happiness and the satisfaction is momentary. Love is fleeting.

It is sadness and trauma that have a lasting effect. I don’t know about you but the first things that surge from my past are painful memories even though I have a tenfold more of happy ones. But the happy memories are vague and blurry and indistinguishable from past every day routine. While these little tragedies are so shocking to our systems that they are instantly engraved in our minds and dictate our lives from then on.

Wow. I’ve managed to depress even myself.

I’m hopeless and I live a bleak life.

But I do hope that in time I disprove myself, that I will be able to look at myself and look at my life and think that I could die tomorrow and wouldn’t have a single regret.

I wish it were true, that life was just a game and if you were ever loved – you most definitely win.

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The Irony

Posted in Uncategorized on September 5, 2009 by Randomique Jester

I think it’s ironic how someone who craves attention so utterly would have a blog that has been swallowed in the vastness of the web blogging community. Ignored, lonely, odd, random and now neglected – such is my poor little Live-Journal blog.

Don’t get me wrong, it was personal and I would dread it if my mom stumbled upon it (by some cruel twist of fate) and discovered that instead of New Year’s resolutions her only child is writing angry poetry and discusses masturbation. But… for someone as opinionated as I am, being unheard is… unheard of!

I have no point. Nor does this blog really.

Or maybe there is?…

I haven’t written anything worth reading for years, maybe it’s time to rekindle my love for writing. Whatever trauma it was that inhibited me from pursuing anything recreational (except for drugs) has been crippling me for too long. I feel like I’m wasting away.

Food has lost its affect on me. I hate everything I write, draw. I never bothered buying that E string fro my electric. I dare not leave the house without makeup. I like to live my life mostly through noble TV characters; I identify with their neurosis, I defend their oddities, I celebrate their triumphs but I neglect my body (because I loathe it), I obsess over how society precieves me (which I rebel against) and I go against every grain of fundumental belief, every second of every minute of every day.

I am the all-American singing dancing crap of the world.

Why? As if it isn’t obvious. Fear. Say it with me, dear members of the jury. FEAR.

And it’s all your fucking fault.

Yes, I blame society. Because society has taught me to blame everyone else. The FDA, the senators, Bush, our parents, corrupt cops, bad doctors, alcoholics, murderers, scum of the earth. But there really aren’t any bad people are there? There aren’t any good people either. There are two polar sides and it’s up to you to take one. The blaming game is the basis of the legal system and it will always be part of human nature to be right, lazy and selfish.

Am I right or am I right? Well, I’m still lazy and slefish. Two out of three ain’t bad.

I think I need some ass kicking. I’m 21. Every little goal I’ve set myself and (quite miraculously) accomplished made me run the other way. Every time I was two steps away staring success in the face I… panicked, and the adrenaline rushed through me like poison and instead of remaining patrified (still, immobile) I took a turn the other way. I flunked, I failed, I made a scene, I’ve lost the best things I’ve ever had and then I got a stupid smile of satisfaction on my face. Now, my life is no longer a perfect, boring routine- I can start over, I can have something to do.

Problem is, I never did. I’ve remained in mourning. The memories and the regrets keep me chained to the floor. Now I lead an even more boring life; a hunchbacked hermit, with a patch and an alcohol problem…

Ok, I’m exaggerating now. I’m a writer goddamnit! Sorta. Kinda. Am I? Ha. I’ve ran so far into the other direction I am now unsure of who I really am and what I want to be. What is really ironic is that I’ve had my life planned out carefully since I was eight and the closer I got to university the more unsure I was of it all.

Am I good enough? – is something I keep asking myself. And my answer seems to be always “no”. My writing ‘skills’ are average at best, ameteurish. I’m probably average looking, putting aside my bf’s exclaims about the perfection of my ass, I’ll never do great things, or be someone… So why bother?

Excuses. A waste of my time while I should be doing something. I know all this yet all I can do is write this stupid blog post about a seemingly random topic: “irony”.

Isn’t that ironic?

………………………………..

Is it? Isn’t it ironic? Don’t you think? Does the irnoy slap you in the face like a wet fish? Do you rage, do you pity my poor defenseless, senseless blog and its inevitable, tragic destiny? Do you feel like I’ve wasted five minutes of your life (go back to YouTube, asshole)? Do you wish you could stop reading this nonsense but you can’t, it’s like 9/11 all over again – horrifying but a very captivating subject that can be squeezed and dissected without merit?

Or do you wonder, is this but a ploy to get someone to read my LJ blog other than my bf when he’s trying to figure out my cryptic behaviour (and getting even more puzzlement instead)?

Do you find it ironic, perhaps, that nothing I have mentioned is in no way ironic?

What do you think of Alanis Morisette anyway?

– Randomique

As in dream,

Posted in Random Randomness by Randomique on June 18, 2009 by Randomique Jester

I wake up lost. Am I still asleep?
I’m unsure of what to do next.
When one of your favorite habits or vices is aggressively discontinued you feel the loss tenfold. Your body grows accustomed to the touch, the breath, the action as if it was a part of you and defined you completely.

I awake. (Or do I fall asleep?)
I am doing so much for myself; I am swimming against the current. I give it my all and I’m paranoid that the new substitutes for that absent part of me will not be enough to satisfy momentary lapses of reason and melodramatic emotions.
I wait for the momentary high to dissipate because I’ve learnt my lesson – good things don’t last.
As in all things you have to maintain the results. Each day should feel like it’s your last, well simply because it is.
What you’ve gained yesterday by sheer luck will slip through your fingers if you don’t grip it hard enough – that’s just how life works.
You can’t afford to sleep or eat when you’re out of time.
The things that you stood powerless against, assuring yourself that fate has willed it so, will soon bring regret.
But fate controls our lives to a degree, if not in life then in death, so if you wait at the sidelines for the world to move around you – it will, but it will move without you.

I am too powerless, paralyzed with fear.
I preach this way of life, this passion for fighting for those you love, for the things that make your existence significant, the things that define you; yet, I am too afraid to face what I want most.
I wait and I postpone and I linger on hope and doubt and fear; I wait on fate.
I tell myself, fate has brought me here and fate will lead me away from here. I’m not brave enough to take the first step, though so far I have seen that by taking small steps every day I can achieve miraculous things – as long as I don’t let my fear and doubt paralyze me and prevent me from taking another step.
The point to which I have brought myself in mere weeks is so far away from where I’ve been before I can but see distant memories.
Alas, I taught myself how to forget as a defense mechanism but I could never filter the pain that still lingers on.

Hands, feet, eyes, smiles, tears, hugs, kisses – they’re all still there only distant and far away, like a vague and cloudy dream or someone’s life I have imagined as my own.
No, I couldn’t have.
I could not have been this loved.
I could have not looked like this.
I couldn’t have felt that way.

So many loop holes – that’s how I know this is a fairytale with a tragic ending: things don’t end that way in fairytales.
The prince fights off the dragons to save the princess. He fights, even though it might bring his life to an end, he fights still in spite of impossible odds and overpowering obstacles, his life is meaningless without his princess and it is that simple.
The fight, as in all fairytales, leads to victory. There isn’t another option, not in a story filled with so much love and beauty.
But a fairytale in which the prince does not love the princess and does not fight for her is merely a tragedy filled with dragons and the imminent demise of them both.
So what is it then? If not a dream?

Perhaps it is a part of an average princess’ life, there’s love and disappointment, happiness and obstacles but only one prince that will win her heart. And all previous failed attempts and perished heroes will not be remembered when the real prince awakes her from her sleep.
And then perhaps I will awake as well, and will be surrounded by love. Perhaps it will be then that I will blossom into a princess and not the helplessly trapped and cursed swan I feel I am.

Perhaps I shouldn’t depend on such wishful thinking… because there will never be a prince who’ll save me and I’ll have to roll up my sleeves, cut my hair, steal a horse and slay the dragon myself, but without a kiss the curse will never be broken and once in a while I will feel helpless once again.

But in reality?

Lullaby

Posted in Random Randomness by Randomique on June 16, 2009 by Randomique Jester

They didn’t have you where I come from
Never knew the best was yet to come
Life began when I saw your face
And I hear your laugh like a serenade

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I’m never, never giving you up

I slip in bed when you’re asleep
To hold you close and feel your breath on me
Tomorrow there’ll be so much to do
So tonight I’ll drift in a dream with you

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I’m never, never giving you up

As you wander through this troubled world
In search of all things beautiful
You can close your eyes when you’re miles away
And hear my voice like a serenade

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I’m never, never giving you up

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I’m never, never giving you up
Is forever enough
Cause I’m never, never giving you up

Sweet Thing

Posted in Random Randomness by Randomique on June 12, 2009 by Randomique Jester

And I will stroll the merry way
And jump the hedges first.
And I will drink the clear,
Clean water for to quench my thirst.
And I shall watch the ferry-boats,
And they’ll get high
On a bluer ocean,
Against tomorrow’s sky.

And I will never ever grow so old again,
And I will walk and talk
In gardens all misty wet with rain.

Oh sweet thing, sweet thing.
My, my, my, my, my sweet thing.

And I shall drive my chariot
Down your streets and cry:
“hey, its me, I’m dynamite,
And I dont know why”,
And you shall take me strongly
In your arms again.
And I will not remember
That I even felt the pain.

And we will walk and talk
In gardens all misty and wet with rain,
And I will never, never, never
Grow so old again.

Oh sweet thing, sweet thing
My, my, my, my, my sweet thing.

And I will raise my hand up
Into the midnight sky,
And count the lights
That are shining up in your eyes.
Just to dig it all an not to wonder,
Thats just fine.
Just to dig it all and never wonder,
Well, that’s just fine.
And I’ll be satisfied,
Not to read in between the lines.

And we will walk and talk
In gardens all misty wet with rain,
You know we will.
You and me,
You know we will.

And I will never, ever
Grow so old again.
Oh sweet thing, sweet thing
Sugar-baby with your champagne eyes
And your saint-like smile….

Remember the day
When I held your hand,
With a look in my eyes
Only you could understand.
Remember when we held each other soft and long
And how nothing could ever be that strong.

Shhh…. Sleep tonight with dreams as sweet as angel’s wings,
And all your dreams will bring you sweeter things.
Sweet, sweet, sweet thing
Oh sweet thing,
Don’t you… don’t you wish?
No, no, no, no.

Come’ere let me tell ya,
Let me tell you how much I love you.

Oh my sweet thing.

What Does Love Have To Do With It?

Posted in Random Randomness by Randomique on June 10, 2009 by Randomique Jester

This isn’t the first time I find myself unable to move.
Whichever way should I turn?
What is at stake?
I find myself compromising once more; unable to breathe without something I’ve grown accustomed to.
Feels like it’s a part of me but it’s someone separate.

Why do we need others to define us?
Why do we let ignorant words sting?
The truth should be a beautiful thing, not a foreign thorn of shock and shame.
Things we are told at a moment of anger and malice shouldn’t be burnt unto our psyche; the kindness others show us should be remembered clearer than the insults we cannot forget.
We know this and yet we search. We look for signs written in forgotten places, we look for them to find us and prove us worthy once and for all. We look for understanding in the eyes of people who finds us strange. We hold onto old habits, obsessions and to self-sabotage just so we could feel alive and struggle until we win what we have had all along and lost on purpose.

Why do we need to be needed?

Where is this destructive force of elitism come from? How are you able to look at a stranger’s face, without knowing their story, and decide to judge when not far from now you will be judged harshly yourself?
What kind of animal is man? To trample someone to the ground for his own amusement?
Even lions who haunt their prey bring it softly to the ground in a gentle embrace of death.
Why are we so much more barbaric?
A syndrome of passing your pain along; as those who are happy pass sweetness and kindness to others the same way.
This world is destroying itself from within its core and its people are waiting patiently for its demise.

I ache for solitude. I wish to wake up in a strange place and to start over again, in a circle of people who are no longer threatened by these primitive social standards. Where could I find such a place? Am I better off alone?

Years have passed and my longing for someone who is able to comfort me in silence has not.
I have yet to feel like someone understands and wants to listen instead of waiting for their turn to speak.
Everyone selfishly looks for comfort but no one is willing to comfort others.
Where can I find a love so selfless?
A love where people would strive not to hurt you instead of playing cruel games with your feelings?
The fear of loneliness prevents me to keep on going, I am stuck, I compromised in life because I am afraid no one will ever love me like that. If such selfless love exists, I do not deserve it.

Anger.

Posted in Random Randomness by Randomique on June 9, 2009 by Randomique Jester

First of all, Happy Birthday LJ- you pathetic excuse for an eblog website.
You are probably the most boring and worthless piece of crap there is and I have been cheating on you for a week now with my IsraBlog.

Moving on to my usual melodramatic rant.
So you think you know someone…
You think you mean something to someone, but you don’t.
As a matter of fact it always turns into a battle of egos and when that happens, when none of you is willing to show a glimpse of sympathy or even have the time to care, you know that the relationship is completely and utterly over.
I don’t have much but the little I *thought* I had revolved my entire world around him.
For me to do that takes an incredible amount of self compromise because I merely forgot that I’m worth a lot more than giving and loving someone and getting kicked in the gut for it. I completely forgot that I am a free thinker, an independent being, a beautiful creature and the coolest and smartest person most do not have the fortune of meeting.
I’m not sure what happened in these two years but somehow I turned into a pathetic, spineless, one-celled ameba called “the gf”. Gradually I adopted a clingy co-dependant lifestyle, a hobby for nagging and the habit of crying uncontrollably when I thought my dignity was being compromised. He in turn, I suppose I drove him there, became evasive, cruel and ignorant. As a matter of fact, the more clingy I became the more ways he found to hurt me and then to HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HE HAD DONE WRONG.
I guess I should have stopped being surprised at his complete lack of concern towards my feelings or at the fact that he simply wouldn’t budge to fix what it was he had done wrong. Because it was much easier to blame me for something trivial that I had done years ago has been much easier (“Oh that time that that guy touched your boob”/ “And you called me a mama’s boy 3 months ago”/ “Oh yes, and you did this and that… and I just remembered today even though 5 months ago, when it happened, I showed no feelings at all!”).
The only time he would, finally, show any kind of regret was when – you guessed it!- he wanted a fuck.
I have broken the mold with the clichés and stereotypes because I am now living them.
I AM that poor victimized, mistreated girl. I NOW have a reason to hate men, even though I have hated men for so long.

My first clue should have been when I was stupid enough to wait for a long over-due apology for two long weeks while he was cruising for a new gf. But now, I took him back like the idiot I am, because I always liked being someone’s fall back plan, because that’s truly what I deserve.
So for some reason I decided to put my eggs in one basket and all my unrealistic hopes of a serious relationship into this one dysfunctional little kid, and he did not disappoint in that he disappointed me as expected.
But even then I forgave… I found a way, to put my life on hold. And we spent a month that I thought was a wonderful one.
But then he drove me home and “forgot” to call for four days, because he was “busy”, poor poor overworked soul.
Again, God see and behold, I understood.
But when he decided to finally make time and call A WHOPPING TWO TIMES IN A SINGLE PERIOD OF FIVE MINUTES(1!GASPS!!!!!) and I wasn’t there to sit around by the phone and plan my life around his call he had a very exciting conversation with my empty chair on msn and from that concluded that the mature thing to do was to break up with me on FB…
And I was supposed to be so understanding and great about him being busy that I should have called him and begged him to take me back instead of waiting for a proper apology and some fucking grand gesture to show that he actually gives a shit.
I’m such a horrible gf… boo hoo hoo…
->And I know you’re reading this, because otherwise I wouldn’t detail it so much because no one is THAT stupid to realize what the fuck they have done wrong.<-

So I have been holding my breath for an apology, a phone call and for hell to freeze over (and I have a feeling I know which will come first).
I have finally realized that no matter how pathetic and lonely and unloved I let this person make me feel… he, simply, feels nothing- because he’s heartless and too stupid to feel..
But this is not even the thing that keeps me awake at night, it’s the fact that I sold myself short for so fucking long.
I was this master piece in the making, I had such potential, I used to inspire awe, I used to be a force to be reckoned with, I used to break hearts and make people fall helplessly in love, I used to be worth fighting for…but he has stopped fighting for the blessing and divine right to be with me a long time ago and I should have realized it then instead of wasting yet another year, and yet another tear.

I know this is going to be incredibly hard and I feel like I’m exactly where I started with two of my best years wasted.
I wish I had never met him, that I was a clean slate again; because all the happy memories are not worth this horrible feeling I’m feeling right now. I wish I could erase them completely along with all the pain.
Maybe one day when he wakes up next to someone and remembers me he’ll understand that I was the one and he never fought for me, that he lost me and that he will never love anyone like he loved me ever again.
Then he’ll understand.
Maybe it will happen tomorrow, a week from now or even a month the point is… it’s too late.
It’s so fucking late to take me for granted and to think everything will be magically fixed, it’s so fucking late to think that I will take you back for all the cruel games you put me through, it’s too fucking late.
PLEASE. STOP. POISONING. ME.

Until then, I’m back where I wanted to be so many times before:
Square one, 3 years ago, wondering what it would be like to be madly in love.
Only now I know — it's not worth it.