Nostalgia

After seeing Toy Story 3 on Sunday night, I've begun to somewhat miss my childhood about as much as my parents do (which is a lot. My mother reminds me daily. I didn't have hormone issues then.).

I hate to say the thing our relatives say each time they see us, but we really do grow up fast! Where has the time gone? I can remember being outside all day just playing, begging my parents to let me stay out just five minutes longer. "Please, five minutes!" Or putting on my ballet recital costume and dancing around the house with just as much excitement as I did on stage.

That whole phase of my life is done now and I can't go back. It's kind of depressing, really. Now I'm at an age that, if I wand to play Grounders on the playground with my friends, the mothers of the other children there will look at us and ask, "What are you, five?" I have life-changing decisions that I have to start making now. This is a whole different stage that is almost polar opposite to my childhood.

I just kind of noticed how short life is and how short these stages are. I lived an amazing childhood. I seriously had the most fun I could possibly have. But now, in my teenage years, I feel like I might be wasting it, worrying too much about the future and the thoughts of others around me. I say I'm spontaneous, but that only applies so much. Sometimes I think I hold myself back from doing things that could be amazingly fun.

I'm starting to sound like a cliche (sp?), but it's true. I think I'll start to "live like it's my last day." Or whatever that saying is. Gosh, I'm horrible with sayings. I get them wrong all the time.
I once told someone to, "Try and try and try again and if you fail, go skydiving!" Have no idea what I was trying to say there...

You can go back to your life now.

Kiah

The Art of Conversation

This topic came to mind yesterday at work. I work at a library and shelve books. So yesterday, as I'm shelving, a man goes to take a book out from beside me. Startled (I zone out very often), I whipped my head to look at him.
"Hey, how's it going?" he asked politely, though I'm sure he was also startled at my sudden and probably terrifying stare.
"I'm good, how are you?" I responded, the words rolling off my tongue effortlessly, rehearsed, robotically.
"I'm fine, thanks," he said. He picked up his book. "Have a nice night."
"You too," I replied, this time without even bothering to look in his direction.

Effortlessly, rehearsed, and robotically are my emphasis in that whole, brief conversation. Afterwards I realized how shit that exchange was. He didn't care about how I was, he was just filling up awkward silence. And I, not wanting to be talked to, responded quickly just to get it over with. I hadn't even been truthful. If I had, my answer would have sounded a little more like, "Well I'm bored as hell, my legs hurt and I feel like sleeping right now. I was feeling a bit charitable and offered to stay an extra two hours for work but now that I've done it I'm slowly sinking into a quicksand of regret. I don't feel like talking right now, I just want to wallow in self-pity." (However I think it's best I didn't say that--a little overwhelming to a stranger...)

I realized how often we all do that. Just for etiquette's sake, not because we actually want to know someone and have an actual interest in them. I think I would be more curious with the people I have pointless conversations with if I wasn't so used to everyone else treating me that way.

And we can learn so much from people when they start talking! A few weeks ago I was walking to work and as I was crossing the street this truck almost turned into me and the woman who was walking in front of me. What started as her commenting, "That truck almost hit us!" turned into this life-story where I was the listener, for once (very rare). I learned that she had just met this guy through her one friend who doesn't like going to the movie theatres because he feels it's pointless when he has a big screen television. That same friend was driving his sister and her friend to Niagara Falls from Mississauga the next day--a long drive. But it was okay, she assured me, he's quiet and likes to drive.
Last year this man started talking to me about this hip-hop opera he was writing that takes place in Rome and that's why he was pulling out a book on Roman architecture. (I was at work again.)
Last week I had a conversation with this woman who sat beside my friend and I on a bench about the bands at the Sound of Music Festival and how busy it was on the night Marianas Trench and Faber Drive were playing.

My point is, there's so much to learn if we just ask the right questions. But the other person has to be willing too, I guess.

Okay, this is going downhill now so I'll stop.

You can go back to your life now.

Kiah.

Who Do You Looove?

I just had a conversation with someone about this yesterday and I felt it was worth writing about since I'm sure everyone else has thought about it.

Wouldn't it be nice if you just knew who liked you? Not in a friend way, but romantically. I mean, it's so hard to muster up the courage to talk to a crush when you have no idea if they feel the same way. It would take the confusion and anxiety out of a wholly nerve-wracking situation.

Of course there are flaws to this idea. If someone knew you liked them and didn't like you back, you might be a frequent target of mockery by them and their friends.

But it is so hard to tell someone your feelings toward them-- or at least it is for me. In fact, I've never done that. That would probably explain my guy-free history. Well, there have been boys in the past, but the feeling was not mutual on my end and I refuse to lead a guy on. It's a bit sleazy to me. Maybe one day I'll "give a guy a chance," as it was put to me, but for now I'll stay true to my heart.

Another perfect solution would most definitely be catching signs. Unfortunately guys don't notice them (according to my magazine, I don't know personally because, well, I'm a girl) and girls over-analyze every little thing so that a compliment to someone other than her means he doesn't like her and the fact that he responded to a question she asked must mean he thinks she's hot. (Unless that's just me and in that case...well, I feel bad for myself.)

The thing is, to each person I'm sure you think it's super obvious when you like someone. To help illustrate my point, I will once again and as usual draw from my own experience:

I am the most awkward person you will ever meet when it comes to the guys I like. "Charming" is the absolute polar opposite to what I am. The closest word I can think of the describe it is "sketch," and that doesn't really fully articulate my undeniable creephood.
I don't talk a lot to them, if at all. I've tried to convince myself that I'm playing "hard to get" when, really, I'm playing "scared shitless." I stare excessively. It may look like I'm zoning out but I'm generally imagining things that are best not described. When I do talk, I make horrid jokes. Horrid. And then I laugh at them like they're the funniest thing I ever heard. Finally, whenever the "liked" guy talks to me or in my general direction, I laugh really breathlessly and smile a little too widely.

Now if only these guys knew that. It would save me a whole lot of trouble because I would never really have to think of telling them. On top of that, it would boost their confidence so that, if they liked me back, they could tell me.

Not long ago my dad told me about this book he had read. In it, this man was given the powers of God for a week or a month (I'm not entirely sure exactly how long) and he could do or change anything he wanted. (No, this is not Bruce Almighty.) Well the one thing that the man wanted to do was change the human body so that, for a man, their penis was on their forehead. (I have no idea why the hell my father told me about this.) When God asked him why he would do this, the man explained that priests weren't supposed to get turned on or be sexually attracted to anyone and so, with a penis on their head, they couldn't hide any excitement.

Looking beyond the literal context of a penis-forehead, that's almost exactly what I'm saying. Since we're all not priests, we have nothing to hide! (Let's ignore the religious context, because that's a whole other subject that I refuse to get into.)

I would ask why we aren't more open about our feelings toward others, but I know the answer and mentioned it before, in different words.

We don't want to be judged or mocked. It's a bit sad, I think, that those are the reactions that are received after expressing our love or 'like', but it is what it is.

I always thought I would have had at least a "boo" at this point in my life, but apparently I was wrong. Until I find someone man enough to tell me the truth, that ain't happening. And they've got to be creative about it too.

You can go back to your life now.

Kiah

[PS- The book is called "The Duppy" by Anthony C. Winkler, if you're curious.]