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.]

I'm Sorry?

I'm not sure this blog is going in the direction I necessarily expected-- not that I had a set plan or anything. But I feel like I'm putting too much about myself into it. I know it's only been three posts, but I've revealed a lot about myself, especially in "Vanity." And it's never a bad thing to withhold some information, especially personal, life-changing experiences.

The fact is, I don't even know myself right now. To say this blog is a representation of me may be a completely false statement. If I don't know who I am, neither do you. And my posts, while opinionated, I will start treated more like a self-discovery type thing. I know it's public, but only two people that I know of are reading it and if you're bored feel free to stop. I won't be offended.

I guess this is almost a response to the person who left that message on my Formspring about not feeling like they know me anymore after reading this. There are a lot of things people don't know about me and I know that I may not be the person you thought I was but I don't think a lot of people are the same person you talk to everyday. I'm certainly not being fake around you, I'm just showing you one side of my personality and shielding the other(s).

I don't want to discuss fluffy, irrelevant topics. Writing "Candid Photography" was painful. I was forcefully trying to move on from a depressing topic to a lighter, funnier one. While I joke around more often than not and can see the humour in life, I'd like to be serious sometimes and this blog is kind of my ticket in doing that since I never really get the chance with my friends otherwise.

So I'm sorry if you're reading this solely for laughter. There will be laughs, I'm sure, but they may be a bit harder to find. Maybe not in some posts. I'm sorry to myself and to you, reader, because this blog will never truly represent me. My opinions, tastes, and interests are ever-changing and to be true next your to what I've said this year is near impossible for me.

I'm sorry, but I'm going to be selfish with this.

You can go back to your life now.

Kiah

Candid Photography

So this is a weird topic but it must be discussed because it is one of the worst ideas ever made in the history of ever.

Sure, seeing someone laughing for real as opposed to fake laughter captured in photography is nice. But when they happen to need to attempt to control their laugh from going all witch-like and then notice you wielding your dinky ol' camera ready to take a picture, it's a little hard to try to focus on perfecting a normal laugh that won't terrify children along with a decent smile that is controlled with the addition of not flaring their nostrils. Yes, you could take a picture of that person anyways but they will ask you to delete it. And maybe said person is me.

I have a hard enough time trying not to look like a lemur and now I have to worry about having my photo taken when I sneeze? Or when I'm tired and my right eye goes all lazy-like? Ridiculous! What kind of person do you think you are? Capturing 'real' human emotion...

Real human emotion my ass, you take a mental picture if you want that, photos are for faking. As ye shall fake, ye shall look good.

Unless you're wearing a toupee. Those rarely look good. My dad wore a wig to a costume party once. Not his best look...

For the goodness of what is good, quit this candid photography mess. Embrace the fakeness needed in photos. Look at all those old photos with the first cameras invented that took forever to take a photo. All the people in them look like they have a pole up their ass, which I'm pretty sure they do. Is that real enough for you? No, that's custy. But I forgive them, they hadn't had the experience in photography that we do today.

Fake, it's that simple. Who wants to see "I'm on my period right now and am wearing a pad" on a person's face in a photo (Ladies, you know what I mean.)? Not me!

Stop taking candid photos, please. Or at least avoid taking them of me. And give me forewarning when you're about to take a picture. I need to practice smiling for a minute or two to get my 'charming' one correct.

You can get back to your life now.

Kiah