'hindsight is 20/20' - thank you, 2013

I was at work a couple of nights ago, when my boss comes up to us jaded folk on the city news desk. And he said, "Write a year-ender piece!" to nobody in particular. I tried avoiding his eyes, and looked to the other people on the desk. I wondered if they thought the same thing I was thinking – that this year hasn’t really been a ‘professional’ year for me. I won’t say it’s been unproductive or pointless or any of that. It’s been great in many ways. And while it’s been pretty public in some ways, it’s also been excessively private (as I am wont to be).

This year has been extreme. The first six months were the total opposite of the last six months. And while I do not regret the first six months, I hope I don’t have to go through that combination of things again. A couple of them, sure. All factors put together? Well, I’m fairly certain I’ll never allow it to happen again, and I hope the powers-that-be agree with me.

To say it’s been an enlightening year would be a terrible understatement. I have learnt so much about myself, life, people and so on. In some ways, I have shocked myself and broken some rules. But I'd expected that since, like I’d mentioned, it’s been a year of extremes.

Before I began writing this, I read my ‘year-ender’ from 2011. Then too I was in a good place, but just beginning a journey that year that ended for me this year. The juxtaposition of the younger, more hopeful me back then, with who I am now has helped. I’ve realised that on occasion I've also begun saying things that make me sound like an old woman. Especially to a younger friend of mine who sometimes reminds me of myself when I was younger. All in all, I feel wiser at the end of this year. Far wiser. And happier than I think I’ve been in a while. It’s a bittersweet happiness sometimes; one that comes from a couple of scars and all that drama. But it’s no worse than I’ve already been through in my life.

I found myself telling a close friend that this has been a wonderful year. That every day, I am grateful for the thing that happened mid-June which drove me to another place in my life. I was not exaggerating. It sounds dramatic, and I may have used up my quota of clichés this year. But they’re all true. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, every cloud has a silver lining, oh and my favourite -- everything happens for a reason, and it will all make sense later. Some of these are terribly corny, especially when I say them out loud. But, well. *shrug*

2013 also made me realise one of the biggest cliches in the world rings true for me – that even if we have a plan and it goes awry, it’s usually for a bloody good reason. Even if it makes no sense why some people get away with wreaking havoc thoughtlessly in others’ lives, it’s again for a damn good reason. And that there’s no point caring about other people’s lives if they don't care for yours. People have joked about revenge with me. One asked me if something I did someway through the year was to spite someone who had hurt me. [Of course, this was from a male friend and they can be pretty dense, no matter how much they love me :)] I don't want revenge. I want world peace! Alright, that might be a bit hard. But I'd like to not hate people and also like not to be hated.

There are a lot of ‘I’s in this year-ender. I'm used to noting how many 'I's are there in my writing, scaling down on the subjectivity and all that. But I've spent too much time not thinking about myself earlier. And maybe, the things I’ve been shown and the epiphanies that have happened will all be shared with a friend along the way.

I'm not making any resolutions for 2014. I probably won't stick to them. And I'm seriously lacking in faith in humanity anyway. But I'll try this -- I'll try not to judge people. Or hate them for things they might to. Even if it hurts me. What's another little scar. I'll be bloody fine. =) Some tears, some laughter, it's all just part of a life of one human -- a little speck in the universe.

And if something really bothers me.. well there is always the pool of caramel that I wake up to each morning, which solves most problems anyway. My Labrador's eyes.

thursday

It is Thursday and I write for Tuesday;
I write for sleepless nights, flashing lights,
Themed dreams, days of caramel and cheese,
Calm spirits, bubbles of joy, and tears that stream.

Measuring reasons, weighing them against each other,
But they do not balance.

Home is here, and home is far,
There will be pieces, little strips
Of myself spread in many places now,
Muscles pulling, hair strung,
Words left behind.

Mostly I write for peace
I can’t seem to find
Till I can smell you again,
Warm myself in your scent and your love.

Words will have to do for now.

breathe

how many times do i have to tell them -- don't dress up for a boy, dress up for yourself!
especially if that boy isn't even worth your time.

humans are confounding. running after sex when you're young, shifting to thoughts of marriage when you're older, then it becomes trying to find a long-term partner plus good sex; not to forget people you aren't romantically linked with... friends. friends who stop talking to you, friends who accuse you of stealing, friends who claim you stop spending time with them when you're interested in a member of the opposite sex, and then there's family -- aging parents, siblings who go away and you miss, or siblings who are at home and you cannot stop fighting with.

it sounds exhausting, doesn't it? dealing with all these people and not going completely bonkers. and then handling them and wondering if you handled them the right way...? which is why i love my Labrador. it's so simple with her. it's just unadulterated love. no expectations. which is impossible from humans.

it's my "alone" phase again, apparently.

when you're around too many people, too much of the time, and you lose sight of yourself... well, it's a little scary. i've been ridiculously social the last few weeks. and i think i know why -- it wasn't a very good reason. it wasn't even for myself. it's as if i am jumping from the frying pan to another hot, steaming vessel, or even right into the fire.

so when i am handing out well-meaning advice to the girlfriends i love, it smarts a bit, it is tiresome. because i know what we go through as women -- over-analysis, expectations, standards [yes, we're picky about people we want to date or take off our clothes for], heart over mind, then mind trying to win over heart, careful weighing, talking, crying, waxing, texting, indulging... it's bloody exhausting when i see what we put ourselves through.

relationships are bloody tiring. i wish everyone was my Labrador. or bluepapercranes. who is like a human Labrador with almost non-existent expectations.

*big bloody sigh*

no second thoughts

“We are such funny roommates. This has to be the best morning after ever!!”

Of course, by then it was 10 pm, she was half asleep while we were discussing nefarious activities of the night before, and I was rolling on the bed cackling. I had to agree with her though, while I watched her run off to pick up the phone. It was her boy from the night before. Thankfully though, the one I encountered wasn't going to call me anytime soon...

--

15 hours earlier. . .

The sun was up. Fully. And I was exhausted. It still hadn’t really sunk in, what I had done. Even with the hand that curled around my stomach, playing with my belly-button.

“You have such a hot body.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Well, it’s usually covered.”

I raised an eyebrow but he couldn’t see it of course. I was too tired to argue. But my nerve-endings were waking up again. The boy had very long fingers. A good thing. I now know, I like men with long fingers.

“You know, I kinda like to finish what I started. And I don’t think you’re finished.”

Ten minutes later, I was pretty sure I had finished. I found myself laughing.

“I’m sorry... I know I tricked you.”

It was the easiest trick I ever played. Two hours earlier, when we had rolled into bed, he removed all my clothes but refused to have sex with me. “I’m tired of fucking women. I want to make love. I’m sorry. I hope you understand.”

“Uhm.. What, you want me to marry you?”

He laughed.

“I thought so. So shut up and do it.”

He laughed even more.

“You’re such a bossy bitch.”

I smiled in the darkness.

Strangely enough, we talked a while before I seduced him and got what I wanted. Twice. And I didn’t even do it consciously. The talking turned us on apparently. He was very gentle. And it was probably difficult to be gentle when you’re 6’2”, fucking someone’s brains out. He covered me with the bed-sheet when I felt cold, he wrapped one long arm around me and nuzzled my neck. He told me how fabulously hot and intelligent I was, and even laughed when I said I picked all the wrong guys. “You have nothing to worry about, sweetheart,” he said. And strangely enough, in that moment, I believed him. Though I had to tell him that I didn’t like being called ‘sweetheart’. He wasn’t surprised.

Tarika and I were talking about this later. “Good. You never believe your sister and me when we say how beautiful you are. I’m glad this guy told you, and that you believe him.” I didn't have the heart to remind her that I only doubted myself because the last two men I fell for hadn't touched me even with a bargepole.

It’s quite amazing what a little intimacy will do to your life. Your underwear feels sexier, your stomach feels flatter, you walk with more oomph... I always thought it was such a goddamn cliché. I mean why would gorgeous, amazing women need a man to validate them?

I think my questions have been answered.

I had expected him to be gone by the time I woke up. I heard his voice, though, after my phone rang. He had a very deep, sexy voice. He and Tarika were laughing and playing with my dog. Somehow, it wasn’t awkward at all. We went back to being friends in a heartbeat. He didn’t try to hug me goodbye and he understood what I meant when I sent him a monosyllabic text message many hours later.

“Thanks.”

He knew I wouldn’t want to analyse the previous night and turned the sms-talk into a request for books. Something I didn’t forget. Somewhere between warming up to each other and him seeing a side of me only one person had ever seen before, he told me about his ADD. How difficult it was living in a family of geeks when he was growing up. I remember thinking, “Even this one is messed up?”

But he wasn’t. He had a gargantuan family, slept around a lot, rescued drunk friends on bike escapades, tried to read one book every two months, ran one section of a business, all at the age of 26. A surprisingly normal guy. The type I never fell for. But the perfect guy to lose my ‘one night stand’ virginity to.

This was probably one of the few times in my life I didn’t have regrets.

“You’re welcome,” his reply said. “Thanks for being you.” Smileyface.