Summer

Summer is here. I don't quite remember when it came, but at some point it finally did. My boyfriend is hot, I'm starting to get my shit together, learning more about love and life and how not to be a confused, selfish bitch, and meeting new people. I've got a couple of goals for the next couple of months; working on design work and my novel (the same one! I've kept to it... ).

I still have moods that go up and down, and I'm still insecure about a lot of things, and simultaneously excited and afraid about the future. But life's like that isn't it. I think it swings between states of happiness and fear, satisfaction and laziness, pride and insecurity. Only non living systems stay in the same state permanently, until they are programmed to fall apart. If you're alive, and not under the influence of pharmaceuticals that claim to make you well, you're going to have to feel all those things.

And I still miss all my friends in Singers. I miss them all the time.

But he's got a beard.

I finally called my folks back home. It was kinda nice to talk to them, just so they know I'm alive. Although I hope they make sure of that by checking my Facebook updates because I do that several magnitudes more frequently than I come into contact with them, even back when we were living in the same town.

I told my mother about Dani. The conversation went something like this.

Her: So you found someone?
Me: Yeah. He's awesome. He takes good care of me and is intelligent and sexy, you'd like him.
Her (jokingly): Sexy? He's got a beard! And he looks like the devil in his Facebook profile.
Me: What does having a beard have got to do with anything? And he doesn't look like the devil. From some angles I think he looks like Jesus, like the ones they paint in the pictures they used to hang above the blackboard at school.
Her: Do you guys go to church?
Me: (thinking best not to say more than necessary) Uh, ha-ha... ... No.
Her: He's from where?
Me: Bosnia.
Her: Aren't they communist? Used to be part of Russia, no?
Me: No, they're socialist, they were never communist, and it was never part of Russia, although he can speak very good English with a strong Russian accent. (While thinking, must repress need to throw in Borat lines about sex in mouth.)

I also told her we've signed a cohabitation agreement when she asked me how serious I thought he was about me.

Pretty committed I'd say. ;-)

The Hardest Part, No Puns Intended.

What is it exactly that we build love upon? Love that is lustful and romantic and rewarding and jealous and insane and frightening all at the same time. When we say we love someone, what is it exactly that we love?

Do we love them for what they intrinsically are? Their good genes and commendable upbringing for example. That they are intelligent, good-looking, sweet-natured, passionate but sane, etc.

Or because of what they are capable of making you into? That they are inspiring, and encouraging, and kind and complementary to your personality such that when you're with them, you feel your life is moving forward and they move along with you.

Or because you feel you give them a lot, and you feel you're appreciated and wanted, and needed.

Or because time and chance throws you in together with someone under the most peculiar circumstances and paves a road for you to take?

Fuck knows. I think at the end of the day, despite all of the above, the only way it can work is if you believe it. But it's the same with all the other great motivations in life (love, ideas, expression). You can know all the rules, and you can manufacture the perfect conditions in which to achieve them, but in order for them to happen, you must believe you are capable of achieving them. And that they seek you. And it's the believing in them seeking you, that is the hardest part.

I think at the end of the day, love is essentially a construct like a fine great arch, reaching into the sky. You don't know how it stands, or why it stands. But once upon a time, it was built with scaffolding that is no longer there. And after a time, it doesn't matter what the scaffolding was made off, or how safe or sturdy it was. The arch either stands, or it doesn't, and the idea is to keep it standing.

Away with thee cynicism.

At some point, I went from I would be crazy to give this up, to, if I give this up, I'm crazy. I remember my first spiritual trip. I was told that I should "Just feel, because if you think about the experience, you'll block it."

Tag you're it!

I've not been very nice. Actually I feel kind of rotten, and I'm too embarrassed and tired to talk about it.  :-/ But I think I see things a little clearer now. In the meantime, Phil tagged me here. The twist is I get to tag other people with 10 new questions.
hil's Questions:

1. Who was your 3rd grade teacher and were you in love with her? (Lesbian lust is OK, in fact even better.)
She was called Miss Pearly Chai and she was the best teacher ever. She read to us gigantic picture books in the garden and called me Machine Gun for talking non-stop. But I wasn't in love with her.

2. Is yours an examined life? If yes, did you find anything interesting?
Uh, probably. That we can only talk about the system from within? So we'll never get the full picture.

3. How high is the tallest mountain you have climbed, skied down, or tripped over (question for Singaporeans)?
Don't remember the name. Somewhere not in Singapore.

4. Speaking of storms, do you know, or DID you know, anyone who has been struck by lightning? Or indeed, by lighting?
No. But I know someone who peed on an electric fence and got a shock from it.

5. What do you like most about your job/studies/unemployment cheques?
Generally interesting.

6. Men: are you Miles or Jack? Women: are you Maya or Stephanie, Jack's fiancee or Miles' ex-wife? (You haven't seen Sideways? Why am I even talking to you?)
I think I'm somewhere between them. And I wouldn't have broken Jack's nose.

7. Would you rather write best-selling pulp genre fiction, or an art-house novel that confirms your towering genius but that not even your most sympathetic friends would read, except MAYBE under threat of torture? Trick question, eh what?
Best-selling pulp genre fiction. I wouldn't write anything I wouldn't read :P

8. Have you ever been on a cruise? On a ship I mean, not wearing leather and trying to pick up Mr Goodbar. If yes, did you fall in love on it, the cruise?
Yes and No.

9. Other than "I think, therefore I am", can you quote a major philosopher NOW? Without having to look one up? (Descartes doesn't count, he was a mathematician.) Please share your quote, if you have one. (I'm thinking, this is a wasted question.) No. The only quotes I remember are my own. And some Shakespeare ones.

10. Do you pay for an online newspaper? If so, which one? (If you are about to say The Straits Times, please leave this blog immediately.) No.

My Questions:

1. What is one novel that could define your life/ personality?

2. You're friends set you up on a blind date. The girl/guy turns out to be really cute and funny. Unfortunately s/he is a cripple, with prosthetic legs. They invite you back to their place 'for a night cap', would you?

3. Would you rather be a gear in a machine or some random swerving quantum particle?

4. The Flying Spaghetti Monster tells you that tonight, it will assassinate one political figure. This death will make things better for a lot of people. You get to choose the person. Who would it be? (and why?)

5. You've just been given a magic concert ticket. You're the only person in the audience, with any performer/s of your choice. What would the show be?

6. You get to look inside the head of one of your family members for a whole day, who would you pick?

7. If you could be in a film where you play yourself, what genre would the film be?

8. You're granted the ability to instantly learn how to do something really well. What would be it?

9. Where would you go to write your best-selling cult novel?

10. Pick one: Flying into outer-space, diving deep into the depths of the ocean, exploring the most beautiful caves, discovering a completely new island with absolutely unique life-forms... or make up your own.

I'm going to do the tagging on FB.

The Goblin.

This weekend, Dani and I went to another village to visit some other nice village folks. (I've decided that a city needs to at least have a core population of 2m to be a city). They were your typical village folk. Barbecue loving, weed smoking, peaceful people. There was a girl called Apple, a guy called Boole, another girl called Violet... and so on. Everyone ate lots of meat and mushrooms, and when the muchies came on, Violet made a huge tray of pastries with Nutella in them. Apple also made some rather special tea. I don't like that stuff, so I didn't have any of it. There was a guy there however, called Randy, or something like it; He'd drunk half a keg of beer by then and smoked an entire plant, but was still dissatisfied with his lot at present, so he drank as much of the tea as he could. Including the dregs. At around 4 a.m. everybody passed out, done in by our glutton, except him.

The next morning, we woke up to a completely spotless house. Everything was cleaned. The ashtrays were emptied, the broken glass swept away, the dog pee mopped up, and Randy was still going at it. Apple asked him what the hell had happened to him, and he told her to calm down, and that everything was going just great. He had a moment that lasted for hours and hours, he was still at it, and he felt great.

"Don't you like it! I took care of everything. I even put the goblin in the closet." He said.
"You mean the garden gnome. But I don't remember ever seeing a garden gnome in Violet's backyard..." She told him.
"No, a goblin! I put it in the closet."

Apple went to the closet to take a look in it. You wouldn't believe what she found.

There was a little boy who obviously had Down's syndrome, scared out of his wits, curled in the corner of the closet.

(Everyone panicked, apparently he was the neighbor's son, so they had to bundle the boy up in the car with someone who didn't live in the same village and take him to the police station. We found out later that the boy was trying to tell the police throughout the whole ordeal that these nasty people had put him in the closet. But I suppose the story that he was found wandering around lost on the street was a little more plausible then a bunch of retards putting a harmless little boy into the closet because they thought he was a goblin...)

Naw... of course I made that up. The boy was really found wandering lost on the street...

Red Fruit Juice.

I got a lovely email from Phil today. He's sooo sweet. Anyway, he pointed out something that I thought was a good idea for a blog post. Here is an excerpt from his email:

...where's this guy from and how old and what are his priors and where are his photos on FB etc - we are all on tenterhooks... waiting to find out more details.

Yes I know it is tedious being asked all these questions but we are people who love you and want to make sure you are OK (we all think of you as a 17 years old still, how fucking out of touch and paternalistic is that?)  and we have to have special inside info to gossip about...

Um... tedious? I don't think so. I don't think thinking nice things about him is tedious by any stretch...

So, he's from Bosnia, 12 years older -just perfect-, slightly under 2m tall, has copper brown hair that fall into fluffy ringlets just above his shoulders, and yellow eyes. He's as much of a body nazi as I am, but fortunately, or unfortunately likes drinking good booze.

He likes Herman Hesse, Checkov and Alan Moore. The other day we watched Luc Besson's Léon, and when we had our fight he said maybe it was like that with us. We're good together, but there was this sea of time between that couldn't be breached. (Which I whole-heartedly disagreed with... 12 years? Hah!) I know he'd most certainly like Dead Man, Wake in Fright and Vegemite.

He's a social liberal, fiscal conservative, mostly cocky, sometimes self-deprecating and pays a lot of attention to detail. I feel like he's my anchor and I'm his muse, and we have a good amphibious vehicle.

She's what we call "see-worthy." S-E-E. See with your eyes. I feel like my transport should be an extension of my personality. Voila. And this? This is like my little window to the world, and every minute it's a different show. Now, I may not understand it. I may not even necessarily agree with it. But I'll tell you what, I accept it and just sort of glide along. You want to keep things on an even keel I guess is what I'm saying. You want to go with the flow. The sea refuses no river. The idea is to remain in a state of constant departure while always arriving. Saves on introductions and good-byes. The ride does not require an explanation. Just occupants. - Waking Life

And he told his parents that I make him very happy, but also that I have the ability to hurt him very, very much. I don't want to hurt him. Ever. I cannot even bear to see him not smile at me every so often.

Oh, and he's really, really, kinky and cuddles me loads.

Alright, enough. You get the picture. Now I'm going to make a toast of anti-oxidant red-fruit juice to my cynical, sarcastic self.

Disagreeing.

For the curious: Yes, I accepted the proposal, and I feel as if an oceanful of fairy dust has fallen upon me. It's all happening rather fast, but I feel that it's the right thing, and you gotta admit, it provides for a slightly more interesting twist in things then the usual group sex episode.

We went on okCupid this evening and took a look at the match questions under "The Two if Us" (I know it sounds kinda cheesy). Basically you can take a look at the answers of other people while comparing them to yours. Here are some important questions we disagreed on.

If you had to name your greatest motivation in life thus far, what would it be?

Love.

Knowledge. (Because no one can take it away from you.)

Serious relationships feel...

...Great!

...Like jail. (Well... my last serious relationship was with a rather insecure man who regularly assumed I was cheating on him, which I didn't. And I dislike the word serious. Committed or dedicated would be better. Look at it this way, the only thing I take seriously is not taking myself seriously. Nonetheless I'm still extremely committed and dedicated to myself.)

If you were in a serious relationship and you learned that your partner cheated on you one drunken night, could you forgive him/her?

Yes, if he/she was sincerely sorry.

I don't believe in monogamy. (Okay I gotta admit I was pretty hurt the times I found out I was cheated on, even when I knew what was going on. And I guess in my own way I never forgave him because I told myself then I could never take him seriously, ever... And I know I'm contradicting myself here...)

If you had to choose ONLY one, would you rather...

Have great love

Have great ideas (so I can jizz in my pants on my own thoughts.)

Do you believe in monogamy?

Yes

No (I like group sex too much. Personally I don't care if I ever sleep with another man again, but I'd like still like to have group sex.)

All that aside, if this is real, then we'll just have to agree to disagree... or compromise. ;-) 

King Without a Crown.

I love this song by Matisyahu. The lyrics have a sort of... illuminating quality.

Strip away the layers and reveal your soul
Got to give yourself up and then you become whole
You're a slave to yourself and you don't even know
You want to live the fast life but your brain moves slow
If you're trying to stay high then you're bound to stay low
You want God but you can't deflate your ego
If you're already there then there's nowhere to go
If you're cup's already full then its bound to overflow
If you're drowning in the water's and you can't stay afloat
Ask Hashem for mercy and he'll throw you a rope
You're looking for help from God you say he couldn't be found
Looking up to the sky and searchin' beneath the ground
Like a King without his Crown
Yes, I wanna get down
A King without his Crown
Yes, you keep fallin' down
You really want to live but can't get rid of your frown
Tried to reach unto the heights and wound bound down on the ground
Given up your pride and the you heard a sound
Out of night comes day and out of day comes light
Nullified to the One like sunlight in a ray,
Makin' room for his love and a fire gone.

I used to think I'd never find someone that would find me as attractive as I found him. What a tragic conclusion to come to at too early an age. Indeed. Well, no longer. :)

This is not flattery.

It feels like I've been here for ages. The Hague's not the center of the world, but I've fallen in love, he's proposed, and I guess that changes everything :D It's kinda weird I know, ME with someone, but he's hard to beat in all departments; and more than anything I'm thoroughly surprised at how things have panned out. I mean, he's the funny, intelligent, somewhat geeky, athletic, non-socially retarded type of guy I've been looking for. Those, in that particular combination, I've realized, are rare. He's also stylish, very neat, loves cooking and can probably kill someone with his bare hands if they'd tried to hurt me. (Well, he survived the war. And he was almost stabbed by some thug, once, which he then secured to a lamp-post. With a pair of hand-cuffs. The sort you get in the sex shop. The guy started crying and had to wait for the police to come free him.)

I know it's all been pretty fucking fast. But it does feel like I've climbed mountains (metaphorical ones since barely anything is above sea level in this foggy land) in the last few weeks, and the view is pretty clear up here.

I'm not particularly spiritual or superstitious, but when I think about how it all happened, I can't help but feel there was something external at hand making this happen. I mean, my life has been pretty random, but how did all this happen such that a girl from some tiny city-state halfway around the world get thrown in together with some guy from a country that doesn't exist any more in a fucking town-village in Holland. FFS.

For awhile there, I couldn't believe it all. I mean, it's been a pretty long time since someone actually held my hand everywhere (and I mean everywhere), kissed me passionately in public, and do other nice, lovely, warm things to me at random. Like pick me up from the train station when there was absolutely no necessity to , take a half day off from work at random to come see me sooner etc. I mean, maybe if he was some plain, needy, boring guy, maybe. I wouldn't be surprised then. Heh. But his ex-girlfriend list is something that would make a lot of other people jealous, for sure. I've seen their photos, they're hot as hell and probably very intelligent to boot.

He went on the tram the other day with the neighbor upstairs (Greg, who's a lovely Irish guy that has cute, awkward way of moving and opening his eyes really big when he's trying to make a point) They were speaking in English, and there were some chicks that got into the same tram cart as they did, and one of the girls who sat right across him checked him out and told her friend in Dutch that "The night is getting off to a good start". The funny thing was it happened right after we had a 'fight'. You can just imagine; so you have a fight with your girlfriend and some random cute chick on the tram basically says to your face that your hot. I thought that was funny anyway. And I did think he looked pretty hot that night, fight or no.

Anyway, enough of flattering myself on what a lovely one I caught... indeed.