“Cold ground was my bed last night and rock was my pillow too
Talking blues, talking blues they say your feet is just too big for your shoes “
Bob Marley -Talking blues
I got into a huge fight with a friend of mine the other day, I’m not going to say what it was about simply because I’m ashamed to even say I had a full blown argument on<<topic X>>. It really wasn’t that big of a deal but in the midst of flaring tempers and raging emotions I remembered a quote I had heard some time back “For those who believe no proof is necessary, for those who don’t believe no proof is sufficient” ,so that’s how the argument ended nothing more nothing less.
I can’t remember exactly where I heard this quote must have been on Criminal Minds not too sure, anyway, point is I love it. It’s one of the few things that make absolute sense to me. So now I’m stuck with this habit where I use it every time I’m having an argument with someone and it gets to that point where we’re just going round in circles and no one wants to back down…
I had been meaning to write something for a while now (it’s been 4 months ) .I was willing to , I just wasn’t able to, everything I thought of either sounded inane, too deep ,too long, too serious, too trying-so-hard to be a writer ,too I-keep-forgetting-what-I-wanted-to-write-so-ill-just-come-up-with-a-bunch-of-random-stuff,too just-not-good-enough… and that’s just half of it. Luckily this fairytale like every other one does have a happy ending, after staring at that white blank page for days on end, little miss thoughtful here finally got her groove back, right before she sits for her exams, talk about perfect timing.
As I said, I had a hard time finding something to write about and you’d be surprised how fast time flies when you’re busy turning every small rock in your life into a huge mountain. So when you realize you’re not the same person you used to be, you’re keeping to yourself a lot, apart from the occasional “Hi…Bye” you barely talk to anyone any more. That becomes something you could write about. You start getting “bullied” by his ex-girlfriend and co, not to mention the texts, the mean glances and you walk around holding that huge “Sticks and stones may break my bones but tearing my Game of thrones book will never hurt me” placard, you find something you could write about. (Ok who am I kidding it hurt like hell 🙂 When all he says is “just leave them alone things will be fine”, you find something you could write about.
You call your best friend a tribalist and refuse to take it back, you find something you could write about. You’re fighting temptations, You’re feigning happiness, You’re doing everything you can not to listen to your conscience, You’re too scared to take risks, You’re praying for miracles…all these things become “something you could write about”. Every day ends the same, you can’t settle for anything in particular but its okay you put your earphones on play some Frank Ocean, “you’ll figure something out tomorrow”.
So early one morning you’re feeling restless you can’t get to back sleep, innumerable thoughts, God blessed you with roommates who never hear their alarms ring so by virtue of being the only one who can, forget about that thing they call sleep … you decide to start going through your old journals and you find something you wrote down a couple of years ago – >“Tra qualche amo ,di tutti questi piccoli guai,che ora ci preoccupano tanto chi si ricordera “ –In a few years who will recollect all these little troubles which now obsess our minds. It hits you that there’s a lot you can write about you just have to find out what’s worth it and what’s not. So now you have tones and tones of things you could write, you begin to separate this from that, nothing’s ever too small not to matter, grey matter, purple matter, pink matter everything matters;
You watch your grandparents celebrate their 50 year wedding anniversary; right there you find something worth writing about. You sit up all night drinking lemon tea and talking about childhood cartoons with your friends, you find something worth writing about. Your clothes don’t fit you any more, they’re either a bit bigger or a bit smaller, allow me not to say which is which ,but hey it’s still something worth writing about. You’re thinking of starting a “How I Met your Father blog” someday, when you meet their father of course. You’re sitting on the rooftop, you love this place, you’re watching all the little people back on earth scurry around with their little worries, you’re telling people exactly what’s on your mind, you’re making really bad decisions one after the other, your hair is growing so there’s a little bit more swagger in your step, you’re thinking of those friends you just don’t talk to any more, you’re having as many dreams as you are doubts.
You feel confused, there’s a lot going on but you know that men do many good things and men do many bad things, bad things make the best experiences good things make the best memories. So you’re writing them down now the good and the bad alike, it’s not for you to chose who reads whatever you write, the universe has its own forces, the same forces that caused you to write this will bring them here to read this.
They say man is to err and if the world is governed by laws, and these laws are written by humans and these humans are made by other humans then our entire existence is built upon one big flaw…..no??? …I’m not about to go all Miss. Analytical “who are we and where do we come from”, I’m simply talking about the politics of life, the basis of imperfection. The politics of life is about I, I am not fair, I am not nice, I am not virtue I am vice, I do not listen, I do not care, I do not accept my mistakes, I put myself first and I want everyone else to do the same, I have no need to apologize, I see no need to recognize that which does not affect me. I am imperfection at its best and knowing this makes me nearly as perfect. It is not goodness to be better than the worst they say, and if good must exist next to bad then my entire system is a co-existence of the two.
Which bring us back to my precious quote “For those who believe no proof is necessary, for those who don’t believe no proof is sufficient”. It doesn’t matter whether mistakes are weighing heavy on my mind, it doesn’t matter whether I’m chasing my own dreams or sailing around the world this quote will always mean the same thing to me, “You know what maybe I’m wrong maybe your right who knows?, But at the end of the day I have a mind of my own and I’m entitled to believe in whatever I believe in, I’m not perfect neither are you so respect me and Ill respect you”.
As you can see close to 1000 words later I finally found something to write about; I call it The Politics of Life – a recognition of fault and an appreciation of conflict .And whether or not its sounds inane , too deep ,too long, too serious, too trying-so-hard to be a writer ,too I-keep-forgetting-what-I-wanted-to-write-so-ill-just-come-up-with-a-bunch-of-random-stuff, too just-not-good-enough, nothing is perfect and I reckon it probably sounds like all of the above.
Its not always rainbows and butterflys its compromise that moves us along