Making the Same Mistakes: TWICE

AND THEN LEARNING TO DO AND BE BETTER

I am somewhat furious. To say the least. I don’t know how to frame this and how to even talk about this without some fury. I had a friend, a childhood friend, who I used to get along great with. But it seems, whenever things get a bit messy in her life, she has this tendency to blow up on me. And abandon me. In the worst possible times in my life. I do not know how even to understand what is going on with her. First moment, she asks advice from me: I tell her a dude she is interested in isn’t always treating her fairly but since she has a connection with him, and since he is polyamorous, why not just talk it out with him? Tell him, you want a deeper thing.

And recently, she is going the self-saboteur path of contacting her former best friend. Why? — The fuck I know. She decided to not talk this woman for three years, block her as they had a row and then finally thinks things will change between them because she is more successful in life. Hard Truth: she didn’t. We both agreed that you two are always on different life paths and that she does not even understand or care for your achievements. But does that stop my friend from wanting validation from this chick, who also a mutual childhood friend of ours (though I know her longer), who never has given a shit about her? NO. The chick goes back to shit she cares about — dating, marriage and possible partners. Not about any other kinds of success. Which, she seems to me, pisses my friend off more. Because she hadn’t full on dated in a while aside this new polyamorous dude she is kinda dating.

Of course, she will be pissed that polyamorous guy wants to keep his options open. Wants to keep his French girlfriend and like not full-on date my friend. Well, what did you expect? He is polyamorous. And, he has been polyamorous for ten years of his life. Now, he MAY change his mind and make you solid, but that is gonna take time. For 2 weeks she has been pissed that this guy stated: “I already have my primary; maybe, you will be my secondary.”

Translation: He is being and asshole. Like, seriously, you don’t talk like this with someone who is not used to p[olyamorous dating. And also, I personally think, if she was his secondary, the primary girlfriend needs to know he has a 2nd steady girlfriend somewhere else. Those are the rules. But it is NOT seemingly happening like that. She and the guy are smitten but she wants them to be exclusive. But she is not telling him this. She rather run away than face her fears. She was wanting to become invisible, without saying anything. This dude keeps on following her FB as in, if she makes minor changes, a slight PFP change, he ‘likes’ it immediately. Imagine what he would do in her Insta?

I wanted to be fair. I said, hey, don’t do that. Clearly, you like one another. Clearly, you want something with this dude, so why not just say it? Hey, say I like you and that can we be exclusive? Anyways, she gets pissed at me just because I say I am not like her former best friend and would ‘steal’ her guy. Dude, until that day I did not even know what he looked like. AND I just said it with a context. She was showing me her current’s beau’s ex-girlfriends and current girlfriend AND we both agreed one of his hook ups were super hot looking. Now, I said I liked that girl’s style. But seeing she was feeling insecure, which was plainly obvious, I just said that to assure her.

And, what does she do? Yell at me because she cannot yell at the guy she is somewhat dating. Calls me ‘dumb’ — says she is better than me in many ways. Now, seeing that she is doing better financially than me at the moment, this stung. I told her it is not fair to compare. And she was calling me ‘mean’ saying so what if her ex-bestie stole a guy she liked, she had so many other achievements. The fucked up thing is I always celebrate her achievements. I was telling her don’t listen to her ex-bestie, don’t make her feel you down, just know you are awesome and matter in the here and now.

She was feeling bad and we had to hang up. But then after five I called her again. Said sorry more times, even acknowledged maybe I was being dumb (you can imagine this is a BIG thing to do) and then I joked with her and made her laugh so that she didn’t go to bed unhappy. Then the next day, I sent her messages and tried to make her happy by asking how she was and gave her two Emily Dickinson poems about strength , love and friendship.

She proceeds to keep on calling me ‘dumb’ — when I ask why is she doing this? She has the audacity to reply that she is doing this because she has been so nice and good to others so people take advantage of her. So, now, she will be mean and she is practicing on me. Like WTF dude? You are not nice or considerate. You are selfish and really arrogant and reckless and I am so pissed that you are like this that you think you can call me ‘dumb’ so many times and get away with it. Like, seriously, if you weren’t my childhood friend, I would have grilled your head in. Then she is like, we shouldn’t be good friends anymore, I ‘inject’ her with ‘negativity’, even unintentionally, and she wants to be happy.

Like seriously? Where have I been ‘triggering’, ‘negative’ and ‘mean’ — she did this one before and called me ‘toxic’ and then came back saying sorry back at the end of 2019. Like, what the fuck is her deal? It is not my fault babe if polymamorous dude doesn’t wanna make you exclusive. It’s not like I sucked his dick and told him not to date you. He just doesn’t wanna date you fully. Maybe, he is just not that into you. And, that has NOTHING to do with you. But if you think you can blow up on me again just ’cause you are going through a shitty time in your life again. FUCK OFF

Seriously, fuck off. It takes a lot of energy and focus and love, to listen to someone rant but also get sad and mad. But we do it because we love people. We wish to support them and value them. Show them they are not alone in any struggle they are facing. And, like we wish to be valued as well. We want to be acknowledged and loved in return. Love has to be mutual and respect is mandatory. Why should we not care and respect each other? This is the bare minimum in any kind of relationship.

It was then and there, I decided to block her. I have had enough of this sort of abysmal level of friendship — where like some weird pet, you are only asked to make someone happy. As if happiness is always guaranteed, always an aspiration in life, without any struggle or any hurdle or any challenge. Like, we are two different people, we can definitely NOT get each other at times. And, one time, I make a mistake, fail to get you, and you just blow up at me. For all the times I did not get you, there were so MANY MORE where I did get you. Comforted you, consoled you, loved and supported you as my friend. And, if that is not a convincing argument then NOTHING EVER will be. You cannot be a perfect friend automaton to someone. You need to be a person. And, a person can sometimes fail. But in that failure, you can rise up stronger and better, know your mistakes, aim to do better and be better. I given her the chance to do that and again she threw our friendship at my face.

I don’t wanna settle for less really. I am a person who has some value. Yes, I am feeling more isolated and alone now. COVID19 didn’t make anything else easy. But when someone decides to be an ass to you during a pandemic, you can actually measure what sort of person they are. When people are at such stakes and decide not to show compassion, mercy or even basic level understanding it actually tells more about them than you. I am tired of loving so unconditionally than I become unconditionally erased.

I do not wish to do that anymore. If she comes back again, apologises again. I may forgive but I will NEVER forget and this intimacy won’t be hers anymore. There is this boundary, my Mom said, which she crossed and you know what? That water sunk that bridge. I don’t wanna be around for the next breakdown and the next episode of being a bitch, because it is now clearer to me more than ever that she was being this wholesome cunt and I am not gonna enable that behaviour anymore.

If friendship always meant happiness then we would never need the intimate, the messy, the feelings of rage, hate and love and the salve that bound people thicker than blood and more soothing than water.

Writing Till Now

Sometimes, I don’t know how am I still doing it. All the writing. I wonder what it will lead to. I am actually uncertain. I don’t know if my writing possesses any value, as in, any integral value. All I know is to write. There is nothing else I know or truly possess. Is it an auto-generative inheritance? Or, something I have inherited without the clause to the roots to the DNA of the heritage? Or, maybe it has been both both. A multifarious of items. All I know is how to write. Nothing more. Nothing less. Maybe, more. Maybe less. Yet, in which capacity? I am not sure of. 

When I started writing here so many years ago, I was quite the optimist. I guess we all begin with some sense of optimism if not necessarily obligation. I don’t think I have been a success here as I have wanted? Or, has it been that how I was thinking was not necessarily curated to my own needs? No. That is not entirely true. I had written so much back then. My whole heart was an outpouring of writing and I felt very happy knowing that I could do it. This writing. Even if not masterful (sometimes so subjective) was definitely my own little place in the woods. A clearing. A forest. An ocean. Things I could do with my writing that seemed impossible with everything else.  

Everything else was a whole category that still remains unsorted. I don’t really know what I want from life even now. It seems archaically silly, clichéd, stereotyped — those forms of crises you read about all the time and wonder why people feel that way. Then begin to feel yourself. In one way, you are not a freak. You are still human. Even if it seems some days your humanity is as tethered as a cloud by your window. That ancient balloon that you think of with thoughts and imagine shapes and still can’t understand why you can’t fill it up with the helium with your own desires. Hear that squeakiness of the whole thing and even if it seems super funny to others — you wish to keep it for yourself. 

I understand writing for yourself is important. You cannot really feed yourself entirely on the validation of others. In a way, that is surrogate cannibalism — surrogate cannibalistic modes of engagement; fleshed up with someone else, them eating you and you eating them. Wanting validation. Craving it. I understand. It’s important. Yet, it’s not a subsistent crop. Not the meat you want on top. It doesn’t always work out the way you want. I keep on reminding myself because when you are starved it feels any dish would do; though, there is a reason you have a palate and a tongue, the muscles, the cheeks, the kinds of teeth you are meant to have. Not every dish can do. It just won’t suffice. 

The world online is much crowded and murkier than it was at least 20 years ago. Online interactions do not verbatim copy the verbal, the non-verbal, the etiquette you were once used to even in the last 5-10 years. And, etiquette is not universal. Netiquette, as it has been called, can vary in spaces. And, in online social media spaces, it varies tenfold than in actual geographical spaces. One of the main reasons? We don’t really to have deal with people do we? Not in the same way we have to deal with people even in the workplace. You can’t just block an annoying colleague on the go nor can you suddenly give an expletive and run off. There are more immediate consequences to what you are doing. So, you are more apt and careful. Even if being impulsive is your default, you know, you can’t do that always on the face-on-face level. Street-on-street level. Desk-by-desk level. Bullying exists but you will notice in the world of bodies it is more aptly felt, recognised and alerted. 

It is hard to write online too. Your audience may be larger, more global than local, but how do we know how much global it is? How much local it is? The cheerier days of the global village have been put on hiatus: or in oldspeak net — revamping/reconstruction for a few days. Before Web 2.0, it was harder to even imagine doing short term word changes without unplugging something. When I first came upon WordPress, it was still relatively less advertised and unknown (LiveJournal still holding some cards), with a minimum set of themes. It’s .org program may have been used countlessly on many independent websites but it was not the hosting giant we know of today. Now, I am introduced to a new Block Editor (hoping it allows me to write in the fonts I chose for my website and not some default it chose for me. Ironically, 3 months ago this was possible). 

Signalling back, I am stating that because of the many choices we have, because of how many different changes to mediums of expression, life, lifestyles, growth in certain sectors and the rise of many social media fandoms, writing online has become both easier and harder. You can feel pressurised to conform, be bullied, be critiqued without apology, have a person spam you with less consequences and you may still persist, with a chip on your shoulder. Albeit, the optimism have somewhat dimmed though it may brighten again soon. I should be writing more now. I have more free time now. Yet, there are things that do not come to me as easily as they did before? Is it a writer’s block? Partly. Partly, perhaps I am curating and censoring myself. There may a need in me now to choose more quality over quantity though for me I would like to think I always managed a good enough if not the best balance of it. 

I want to still keep on writing many things. I know I can. I know I will. This is not arrogance or mere wilfully, nonchalant confidence. It is a blessing. And, experience. I have been doing this for so long. I been doing doing for most of my childhood, teenage and adult life. Yes, there may be milestones I am missing. I am not going to say that there has been no struggle; that the reason of doing it and the weight of giving up haven’t loomed over me. It has. More than once. That I haven’t achieved what I wanted so what was the point? The use? Is it because I did for so long that giving up would mean I wasted so much? So, I am stubborn because I don’t want it to be a waste? 

Well, that kind of stubbornness is useful in writing even if there is so much waste. I mean, I don’t think it is polluting the environment much. Nor, has it polluted my own life. However, it has most certainly NOT been a waste. Whatever I have written. Whatever I have continued to write. It has shaped a lot of me. Shaped a lot of who I am and who I will be. Things have changed. Things have not changed. My writing has stayed the same but also grown. It has made new branches and nodes of engagement and involvement. I like what I write even if it is not the best subjects out there. It is not merely only I can write this, from my point of view, but because I know this need and want in me to write is unique to me and won’t come again and it is me and no one else. 

I still don’t know if it is important. If it has any integral value. I am sure this uncertainness is part of a process. Gradually, I might be reaching a destination I am not fully aware of and if it’s great then I cannot be happier. It is easier to have a meteoric rise and then fall and decimate the dinosaurs of your expectations. The evolution and extinction, the unchanged and the stellar qualities of my writing may still be going on. I can feel that strength in me. 

Perhaps, right now, here and now, I am where I need and wish to be. Even if the stars seem unfamiliar and the course a bit rougher, it is where I am destined and worked to be. You can’t tether clouds to your window because you are not meant to see only through one window. 

Happy 10 years to me =D

10 years in WordPress =D Thank Allah Almighty! Not everyone can write this long =)

I am happy whatever I have written here. Writing has been there for me during VERY troubled times. And, I am happy to have had it. It makes me so happy to know I can still write and that it has the same meaning to me as it did then as it does now =)

I wanna continue on writing for hopefully another 10 years! =D

a scratch by a purr

there is a sensation in my bones
a chirping of molecules like crickets
fastened into my mouth and throat
like some oral fixation

feel myself moving like thuds in the attic
a ghost of a heartbeat manifesting
in poltergeist steroids of adrenalin and noise

I was flesh before I was matter
I was wind before I was echo
throating my whines and neighs and snarls and howls
making the most decisive decision
to not mute my speech.

when I cannot sleep

I cannot sleep; the dust of it rounds my eyes
into separate spheres, a sea in each
dipping night’s ink like a chance of lead
into the silvery apparition of a reflected moon
cradled between the sinews of a hammocked brain

there is a long sigh, a long echo — followed slowly by a song
tethering is a lullaby in glades of sun and shadow
day hinged and riveted like a solarnaut in crucial voyages

and my mind sits there, ancient, stubborn — like a shard of shell
fossilised and unmoving, indifferent to the throes of sleep
and voyeuring on the agonies of silence.

I know I wasn’t a tragedy; I knew it seemed so
after the hallways laughed menacingly
and the bells that chimed once in my favour
grew to sand in some lothario’s hourglass of moves
glued to the stationary casket of time in motion
faster than sound and faster than quantum

it aches my head and bones; not my heart
she flutters still like some newborn butterfly
doing her pilgrimage of movements, she never tires
when I do — there lies the problem and the sanity.
I am sleek with the covers, I am armed with the pillows
salient are my eyebrows playing tic-tac with particles of skin
and the dreams that are coiling to these feathery antennas

I will sleep soon
then wake to conquer the seeming
unconquerable
for I am too
a shade of moon
encased in an hourglass of night
measured stably by a rush of adrenalin
in a spoon of reverberations.—

erasing pain

my heart has swallowed a large pitcher of sadness
pre-summer days quote in heat
and sigh in zephyrs like commas
in a run on sentence —

building up my bones like a house
or a locomotive; both nano and steam
evaporates through the lines
of osmotic transcendence

quiet was the night
adjusting the windows
as the rains come hot and sleek
like predators hunting for water
and my eyes thirst dryness
like a line smoothed by clay
my mouth antagonises me in silence
but I don’t turn the page —

what is a lost cause? I think trust
or trust blindly? a thrusting motion
reminds you of juvenile dreams and
naive conceptions — love sings over the hills
canopied by clouds and conceived heaven
love sings over the earth
only the desert welcomes the monsoon

if my heart was paper, would it be easier to write the codes?
to relearn myself in small accents like apostrophes and periods?

would it have been easier to write down some commandments
that never altered; set ink as stone and made it roll so it
gathered no heresy of moss? — shanties of sand come climb
and crumble but never swayed the reign of those staunch routines

automaton of apathy; pincushioned by wavy joints of empathy
never fully light or fully darkness: just a fruit with many seeds
like a rose with many thorns. Beauty is a trait that can defy kindness.
Why should I javelin throw my self when others watch the macabre
in a seated box in the opera of their own lives?

hearing something like rain fall down like it has pockets to fill
feeling partly tired and partly smarting from a wound
there is no chime that elopes with the blow to the heart

knowing the quiet I trace it like a scar,
a skin that should be immaculate
I sigh, whimper and whisper

the wall is broken; pain can’t keep me down.—

lamenting friendships

I think for the past few days I have been feeling a certain alienation from people. People are not logical. This is something I have learned both the easy way and the hard way. But, this is not a treatise glorifying emotions either. Emotions can be pretty messy and difficult to express so we use shorthands of violence, anger even lust and betrayal to compensate our lack of syntax and our lack of right verbs and nouns to talk about these things. It does not have to be English. It happens in every language. It happens pretty much in mainstream cultures. We are not really taught to cultivate language. We are taught to cultivate solutions and information. The latter is not a bad skill. It is also needed. However, emotion and logic going hand to hand makes more sense.

People can be brutally honest and hurt someone and that is a valid reason to critique emotions. You know why? Because unless someone is being a douchebag I don’t think we have enough of their life picture to be over exceedingly mean to them. Especially, if they are our friends and we posit some value onto them. Friends can demand things — it’s normal and it shouldn’t exceed a limit either. There are basics, we have our own etiquettes. I think what we don’t understand is that even when we are coldly logical it is a painful surgical procedure without anesthesia. We can logically tell people their shortcomings, or why we don’t like them but have no clue what their positionality is. Most of the time when we dislike people we are also subconsciously, but logically, trying to overcompensate for some lack in ourselves. We feel jealousy that they get it, or, anger that they not getting it reflects our own propensity for not getting it. Our lacking.

Going back to language and skills of deduction, the reason I skirted on emotions and logic is that people aren’t 2+2=4 nor are they (a+b)²= a²+2ab+b² nor are they (a+b)³=a³+3a²b+3ab²+b³ they can all of this and none of this on the same line. It is hard to accept that but it’s true. You can give your level best to people to have them turn on you at any given moment. I noticed why. People are either ungrateful, scared, jealous or insecure. And, when I say people I am not pushing me away from that. I am not putting myself on a pedestal because I am a person as well. I am sure that I also come across as brash, small minded and stupid at times. However, I think over the years, I have tried to be patient with people. The sad thing is, people are not necessarily patient with me. When there is a one sided dialogue on patience: meaning you are being patient and the other person is being mean or you are showing them they behaved badly and instead of being responsible they tell you what you said meant nothing and sums up nothing, it becomes pretty frustrating.

A good way of showing these sides of frustration is social media. People nowadays also abuse social media to make a point that they are disappointed or angry with you. When they unfriend or block you, it does become problematic. There is no way to contact them or tell them you are sorry. Usually, it also makes you feel like a creepy stranger when you were not. Even at times it makes you feel as though they are treating you as they would an abuser. It becomes really sad because when you haven’t been toxic with them or vitriolic with them it becomes an issue. I come also from times when stuff like this was hard to do because basically when you before had fights with friends you could be absent from each others’ lives for a while and then make it or break it with perspective. Nowadays, I think that also goes out the window. People get mad at you and make a statement about it which is hard to overlook and may add fuel to fire and make a hot mess.

The thing is we are not math problems or fragments of syntax or pixels on a screen or even a sum of hormones alone — we are people. We need to work on ourselves and others constantly and consistently. Yes, there can be fluxes but we are meant to fill them with other things. It is imperative we can be a bit more compassionate, open, loving and empathetic with people who deserve it. We gotten down our boundaries, how to be alert for creepy people, how to zone out in places we don’t need to be and we also got down how to be aggressive when required. However, we haven’t gotten down the other end. We need to master or even try to balance out both.

There is a reason I speak of balance in particular. We cannot always unleash our rage and jealousies on our friends who are not intending to hurt us or trying to make us feel low. This is one thing I tried to do. Stress and helplessly in today’s societies comes through work but also through social interactions. We are sometimes forced to be with people we don’t wanna be. We can’t always make a situation feel good even if we try. I get that, personally, I get that so much and I gotten angry and sometimes tell my Mom in a bit of a loud voice how tired I was of it all. Work can be brutal, horrible and also ungrateful. You can give your soul to a career, hours of excruciating brain and brawn power and not get a promotion or even have your pay reduced or even discourteously fired. But, I don’t think putting that on your real friends will actually help you in the long run. Rather, I think it would hurt you.

I talk today about personal experiences. I think I have faced a lot in the last two years that has made me pretty cynical about friendships. I realised the more older you grow up people look at friendship like a hierarchy or something that is just there. People have tried to use me and take me for granted. I don’t think I have ever made  a person feel so low that they questioned their self-worth. However, people do this all the time. After a while, it becomes like as though they are just angry at who I am and how I behave. Maybe, they hadn’t expected me to be successful or even able to write these things coherently in a blog. The fact that I surpassed their assumptions of me may make them feel pretty angry and unhappy. Perhaps, they liked me being in the gutter, or being miserable or even being hapless because that gave their lives “more meaning”? When you think about it people can think like that. They usually are taught life is a competition of living good, making successes and playing hard some game of attraction. When people fail in those areas it makes others overwhelmingly happy because then when they look at the mirror they can Other you. They can tell themselves they are not you.

I just don’t really ascribe to this way of thinking. Maybe, that’s why people don’t always value me and do not want to be my friend to begin with—

palm of a blue giant

a blue giant branched out in my palm
feeling me the force of love
pulsating in the corners of my smile
universalising my cure to frailty

each page then resounded a letter
that was me in the finest form
filled with peccadilloes but also purities
and the horse did not come to bring apocalypse
of a degeneration but a prince who was I
fighting with my sword and scimitar

an oasis branched out in my iris
a solar system of planets and stars
in the constellations of my all my deeds done
and all deeds to come
finding that I was bracketed as the moon
with the definition of suns

I glow because my luminosity
is the only one who I can proudly state was me.—

chasm diegesis

there was a chasm of loneliness
and it bore my name
and I decided to fill it with tears
hoping to reach the surface

only sorrow did not quench that thirst
and my tears had to be hope bound
for what is sorrow if not a testament
to hope? We will meet unfairness and injustice
that is how human systems work
but the meta of you was designed not
to follow that rule. Believe in God or believe in greater dimensions
that supersede what holds the matter and makes you closer
to the holy

I managed to make my chasm a ocean
I made it into something fertile
for only I lived this life
and I know it held meaning
slings and bows now serve my soldiers.—

telemetry of a fighter

rustling in the hands of my fate
as they wash themselves
I am tethered to the soap and I cling to the skin

never letting myself be washed away
the cells of me intermixing with the cells
of destiny; a bath of serene calmness
each ridge of bone, map coordinates to fixate on
as I embellish and write the x and y axis
thinking of the m slopes on the way

the vertigo of finding some new integers
as my skin manifests the glow
I am naked with muscle
and my fists ball up
forcing me to sway into battle

I only go down when I know the end means me
charting off to a new chapter
for fighting for me
is the telemetry of my bones
lining up to receive the blood and flesh
of my organ sounding triumph.—