Monthly Archives: October 2015

Delayed Reaction

The saga continues. I had another run-in with my friend and let’s just say the blissful nothingness that occurred after the goings-on of last week’s post didn’t last for long. The timing was perfect for the blog post though, no?

“What happened this time?”
“I was walking down the hall and I walked straight into him.”
“What happened, woman?”
“He said the biggest hello to my friend but he couldn’t even look me in the eye.”
“Maybe he didn’t want your friend to get a clue.”
“No. It was almost like he was ashamed of it; it felt like he couldn’t wait to get away from me. He didn’t even say anything to me.”
“That’s extreme.”
“That’s how it felt. And then it made me feel really, really shitty about the whole thing.”
“Like you regretted it?”
“Yeah. I just wanted to redo everything and kick him out of my room that night. I mean, why should he get to ignore me when he came on to me? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Boys don’t make sense, get used to it.”
“Still. It’s all so fucked up.”
“But didn’t you both say it wouldn’t happen again?”
“Yeah we did, that doesn’t mean he should act like I don’t exist.”
“Do you think he’s told everyone?”
“I’m not worried about that, I just don’t appreciate this sudden switch on me. What’s even funnier, I’ve seen him more times since our little thing than before everything happened combined. Combined.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“I can’t do anything. I just have to live with it and pray he stops being such an asshole.”
“And pigs will fly shortly after, surely.”
Stop. I just don’t get it. I mean, you can hook up with someone and at least be cordial after, right?”
“Easier said than done. Maybe he just can’t look at you without thinking about what’s underneath your clothes.”
“That’s so stupid. I don’t look at him and automatically think about his third arm.”
“Why you lyin’?”
“I don’t though. Oh well, my hooking up days are over.”
“You barely even started.”
“Exactly why it’s good to stop right now.”

 

Moral of the story: don’t think you can get away with it. I keep saying this and I will always say it; I’ll scream it even: you cannot partake in sexual tings (yes, I said tings), be it all the way or thereabout, without feeling something, anything. Be it remorse, happiness, guilt, closure or that sensation that swells up in you where even you can’t put your finger on it, that feeling of static, whatever it is: you will feel something. We’re human beings and sex is a combination of feelings, it’s a physical manifestation of emotions, whether you like it or not. At the time, it could feel awesome but then the aftermath will sneak up on you and it’ll have you thinking all kinds of things, bad things, haunting things. It’ll have you doing all kinds of things, just to escape or embrace the reality of what has happened.

Maybe it depends on the person: if you know you have guts of steel and you can go back to absolute normality with a person after the deed has been done, then bravo. If you can’t, put it back in your pants or in your bra or whatever. It just leaves a trail of awkward little balls of rage and semi-broken hearts all over the place. It’s a mess, a mess that could be avoided if we all didn’t give in to every little sexual whim that blew our way. But, then again, that whim is pretty demanding. Ah, what an impasse.

Or is my friend just being too naive? Are hookups a definitive end to basic friendliness? Surely, that cannot be right.

At the end of the day, the boy in question really just has a lot of growing up to do as do all boys who do this exact same thing to gazillions of girls out there.

In less strenuous news, I actually like university this year, like, a lot. Almost all my lectures are super interesting, studying over everything doesn’t seem like a death sentence anymore. Only downside, there’s so much group work and it is so annoying, I can’t stress this enough. On the other hand, lab sessions are so cool now. I got to work with hydrazine. Hydra-freaking-zine. That’s rocket fuel. Actual rocket fuel. I still get all mystified when I think about it. Even though I didn’t propel anything in to space, it’s still cool, shh.

Until next week or whenever,

Xièxie! (That means ‘thank you’ in pinyin (a variation of Mandarin) which I’m a total pro at now.)

Georgina ❤

Song of the Week

Hypothetically Speaking

Guys, I have a friend who’s been gracious enough to allow me to share her “story” on here. And no, this friend is not me, surely. I recall the conversation pretty well so I’ll try this in a transcriptional format. Shall we?

“So, what happened?”
“There’s this guy.”
“It’s always a guy.”
“And we barely know each other. I think we’ve spoken two times in a year.”
“Okay…?”
“And yesterday, I was almost falling asleep in the student union when he comes over and we start talking about all sorts of stuff.”
“Yeah…”
“He then asks for my number and asks if I’m doing anything on Thursday.”
“Surely, you told him you were busy.”
Now, you tell me.”
“Uh oh.”
“Thursday comes around and he texts me asking if it was okay for him to come and I was all like ‘sure, see you at 6’ or whatever. In my head, there were no warning bells going off, no feelings of apprehension. I mean, it seemed harmless this whole time.”
“Oh gosh.”
“So 6pm rolls around and he comes up to my room.”
And?”
“We didn’t last 30 minutes.”
“You’re joking.”
“I wish.”
“Did you…?”
No. I just couldn’t let it get that far.”
“But, pretty much everything that would build up to that point happened?”
“Yes. Don’t look at me like that.”
“You barely knew this guy.”
“I know. I don’t know what the hell happened. It just happened.”
“So after it all?”
“I didn’t feel any type of way, at all.”
“What do you mean? You didn’t feel devoid or overwhelmed? Nothing?”
“Not a single thing. I tried to think about it, about what it meant and I couldn’t think of anything. I couldn’t feel anything.”
“That’s so weird.”
“I know right? I just hooked up with a guy I hardly knew and I felt nothing.”
“Girl.”
Stop.”
“Think it’ll happen again?”
“I don’t think I could handle it. We both said it wouldn’t. The feeling of feeling nothing in itself wasn’t pleasant, I don’t want to push it.”
“Putting all this emotional turmoil aside, how was it?”
“Ah-may-zing.”

 

There was no way I could have this experience in my mind, whether it was mine or not, and not come up with some form of diagnosis to her lack of feelings towards it all. It would be cruel and unnecessarily nasty to not try to solve the mystery of no feelings when the individual going through this situation swims in a pool of feelings on a daily basis. This person can form an emotional connection to someone she’s never met, it’s almost on a spiritual level. So how does all that just vanish? How?

Honestly, I think it was a defence mechanism. Deep down, she knew the whole encounter didn’t mean anything past the physical level. Subsequently, her mind just decided to not waste valuable electrical impulses on creating a bottomless abyss of wallowing turmoil when she could be doing something much more productive. I don’t think she did anything wrong, hook-ups are hook-ups, they happen and that’s all there is to it. You can’t marry every person you’re attracted to on a primal level but if the opportunity arises to channel this energy into something beneficial for the both of you, why the hell not go for it?

I know the real thing she’s battling with is trying to justify it to herself and then to other people. Sometimes, our own rationale just decides to shrivel up and die and so we’re left with a great big question mark hanging over this very new and very grey area that we’ve newly been inducted into. I shouldn’t have an opinion about this but I do, can’t help myself. It’s just interesting to me. Just being hypothetical and empathetic, you know?

My week in comparison seemed incredibly dull: it’s just been a whirl of lectures and Pinyin translations. I got invited to a prayer meeting and I’m going. I need all the prayer I can get.

Georgina ❤

Song of the Week

Shh.

I made a discovery this week and it is this: I don’t like people knowing I have a blog. It’s been a year. I should be used to having one and people reading it and telling me they like it but I still have a panic attack every time a new person raises their eyebrows at whatever screen is in front of them as they vocalise “Oh? You have a blog?” I almost want it to be a secret. I don’t want anyone to know.

My lecturer didn’t show up for one of my classes this week so I was just making small talk with a newfound friend. We got onto the subject of Instagram and I found out he can draw, like amazingly well. He was nearly shuddering with shyness, he was so embarrassed about me gushing over his talent and I didn’t really understand why it was such a big deal until he landed on my page and I forgot I had put my freaking website in my biography. With the largest amount of surprise in his voice, he was like “What’s this? Is it a blog?” then he went silent then he went “wow” then didn’t say anything about it again and all this while, I was rigid. Rigid with, what I now admit to being fear. The fear of being found out. I almost felt like a fraud.

I have these moments of utter identity breakdown a lot. Like, a lot, you know me. Almost every little thing makes me want to re-evaluate my life to the point where I feel like I’ve never amounted to anything spectacular in the first place, it freaks me out. This blog makes me feel that way a lot. I like writing it and when people respond to it, I do feel elation, extremely, even. But simultaneously, when people discover it and I know who they are, I feel like something changes in that moment, like they view me in a different light. And I don’t like this light. There’s a change for the smallest fraction of time. It’s almost like they’re disappointed. Maybe I’m reading it wrong or maybe I just know some crappy people.

I always say it but I don’t look like I blog. Based on stereotypical assumptions gathered solely from first glances, if I were to squash myself into a specific criteria through a Venn diagram (visualise it with me), blogging or any form of smacking letters into a Word document in my free time wouldn’t be anywhere near my circle. It’s just not what pops into your head when you see me or maybe even know me a little. Even I look at myself in the mirror sometimes and think “You? Blog? Nah.”

I’m a conglomeration of all these supposed skills and hobbies and experiences and interests and cool oddness and I express it in a way I like but I just don’t want people I know to know because I think it changes perceptions drastically. Strangers are my kind of people. They don’t know me enough to be able to weigh up my two different “personalities”, I guess. I wouldn’t know if my actual physical presence differs much from my online presence.

Why does any of this even matter to me? “I don’t know,” she wails, as she throws her hands to the sky in frustrated frustration. Frustration squared. I think – I do a lot of thinking here in case you hadn’t noticed – I’m just trying to rationalise my feelings. I’m trying to do that now. Instead of feeling things and wallowing in these feelings for God knows how long, I try to ascertain why I should allow myself to dwell in such an emotional state if it’s not going to be beneficial in the long run or if I can’t see that far ahead in situ, for that moment. It’s a new life thing I’m trying out, as you do.

Literal eureka moment, I have it: I’m battling with the notion of uniqueness. I want to be unique and this blog, believe it or not, is what I think gives me my edge. But this perception of me being unique is what I don’t like. I don’t agree with people thinking this thing I do makes me unique at all because in the end, it doesn’t. A lot of people blog… but no one does it like I do. See? It’s such a mess but it’s a fathomable mess. But then again, the only thing that really gives me any form of comfort in the midst of all of this is something my really cool friend once told me: “everyone is unique so no one is.”

I should have my shit together by next week, hopefully.

Until then,

Georgina ❤ ❤ (two hearts because I forgot to give you one last time)

Songs of The Week (listen to them or else)