Maybe I'm being rewarded for doing the right thing, and sticking to my convictions.
Maybe karma is acting in my favor.
All I know is that I had a choice tonight...one where, in the past, I probably would have taken the unrighteous path. Instead, I chose to be the better person and do I what I felt was right. It seemed like my long-delayed sense of guilt had finally kicked in, helping to lead me towards all the right choices.
And then, in turn, I got exactly what I wanted and needed to feel happy.
Karma can be a bitch.
But only if you go the wrong way.
If you stick to your values and morals, karma can be your best friend.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Random Musings
I have had a lot of experiences in my life when it comes to relationships. I've dealt with the long-term, the short-term, the very very short-term, and the undefined. Some have been wonderful, some lacking, and some downright horrible. Through all of them, I like to think that I've learned a lot about myself and what it is I'm looking for in a relationship...and also, what I'm not. I've grown stronger as an individual through each of them, even if I had to be completely broken down in order for that to happen. I've become a more mature person for it.
For example, my two-year stint in an emotionally abusive relationship has taught me that I will never put up with being treated that way again, and that I deserve better than that.
In more recent times, I've discovered that I have the strength to end things myself rather than wait pitifully for them to be cut off for me, when I know that something is wrong.
Yet, there are certain ways in which my past experiences have affected me negatively, especially when dating someone new. I am rather paranoid, for all of the times that I was formerly betrayed. I am cautious when revealing my true nature and self, due to the ridicule I endured by a boyfriend who was less-than accepting of my personality. My last few relationships were outwardly blissful when they were suddenly and unexpectedly ended, leading me to feel constantly vulnerable to a spontaneous break-up. And when my last boyfriend left me for someone else...well, maybe to a degree I feel less self-confident in myself for it.
In many ways, these feelings are ridiculous, and I hate them about myself. I have been in a relationship now for the past 6 months, which someone who has, for the most part, given me no reasons not to trust him. With the exception of one mistake, he has always called when he said he would. He is loving and affectionate and only unkind in jest. He loves me, and acts accordingly, and is reassuring that he would never betray or destroy what we have.
And yet, the insecurities derived from my past still eat at me...still cause me worry.
When he's out at a party or large social gathering, I can't help but feel anxious that he will meet someone else...forget about me...neglect to call...all thoughts that are ridiculous, considering the positive trend in our relationship that we've had so far.
Maybe I'm afraid to be happy, for fear that the happiness will end, and I'll be left looking like a fool for believing it to be true.
Yet, I don't think that it's wise to allow such past experiences to destroy what you have now. Putting expectations on a new person based on what others did before will only be detrimental to the bond that you are forming. A relationship can only be build strongly with trust, and to deny it that would cause a flimsy and unstable foundation. And I do truly believe that good people...good men...are out there, simply hiding amongst the masses of jerks. (I once estimated the ratio to be about 9:1). It would be a tragedy to drive one of those kind-hearted, loving, devoted men away, just because of the flaws of another.
And so tonight, as I sit at home writing in my blog, while my boyfriend is out at a social gathering with a few guy friends, I'm trying not to worry.
Because he's given me no reason to thus far.
And so, for now, I should trust.
For example, my two-year stint in an emotionally abusive relationship has taught me that I will never put up with being treated that way again, and that I deserve better than that.
In more recent times, I've discovered that I have the strength to end things myself rather than wait pitifully for them to be cut off for me, when I know that something is wrong.
Yet, there are certain ways in which my past experiences have affected me negatively, especially when dating someone new. I am rather paranoid, for all of the times that I was formerly betrayed. I am cautious when revealing my true nature and self, due to the ridicule I endured by a boyfriend who was less-than accepting of my personality. My last few relationships were outwardly blissful when they were suddenly and unexpectedly ended, leading me to feel constantly vulnerable to a spontaneous break-up. And when my last boyfriend left me for someone else...well, maybe to a degree I feel less self-confident in myself for it.
In many ways, these feelings are ridiculous, and I hate them about myself. I have been in a relationship now for the past 6 months, which someone who has, for the most part, given me no reasons not to trust him. With the exception of one mistake, he has always called when he said he would. He is loving and affectionate and only unkind in jest. He loves me, and acts accordingly, and is reassuring that he would never betray or destroy what we have.
And yet, the insecurities derived from my past still eat at me...still cause me worry.
When he's out at a party or large social gathering, I can't help but feel anxious that he will meet someone else...forget about me...neglect to call...all thoughts that are ridiculous, considering the positive trend in our relationship that we've had so far.
Maybe I'm afraid to be happy, for fear that the happiness will end, and I'll be left looking like a fool for believing it to be true.
Yet, I don't think that it's wise to allow such past experiences to destroy what you have now. Putting expectations on a new person based on what others did before will only be detrimental to the bond that you are forming. A relationship can only be build strongly with trust, and to deny it that would cause a flimsy and unstable foundation. And I do truly believe that good people...good men...are out there, simply hiding amongst the masses of jerks. (I once estimated the ratio to be about 9:1). It would be a tragedy to drive one of those kind-hearted, loving, devoted men away, just because of the flaws of another.
And so tonight, as I sit at home writing in my blog, while my boyfriend is out at a social gathering with a few guy friends, I'm trying not to worry.
Because he's given me no reason to thus far.
And so, for now, I should trust.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
The Biggest Flaw
A while ago, I wrote a poem that outlined my greatest faults, in a therapeutic attempt to dissect my own personality and come to a greater understanding of my own inadequacies...and maybe, through that, be able to fix them. That poem, to this day, is still one of my favorite poems that I have ever written.
Yet, over the last few months I have realized that I have an even greater flaw that I never thought to include...perhaps because it is so deeply embedded in me that I hardly noticed it was there. Or maybe I just thought it was natural, and something that everyone goes through. I desperately, tragically, constantly avoid anything uncomfortable or any confrontation. I don't deal well with anger or frustration or having the blame placed on me, even when it is most certainly my fault. I will lie to escape any sort of uncomfortable situation - I will avoid someone inevitably, just to escape an argument. I suppose I am happier with the unknown - never reaching a conclusion to a problem, just because I don't want to deal with the problem itself.
And I'll avoid knowledge that may be negative...avoid finding out something that may make me unhappy or upset, just because I fear deeply those emotions. And though there might be comfort or relief in knowing, it's a chance I do not take.
It's funny, because I see it in my own brother. I watch as he, day after day, refuses to look at his class grades online, just because he is afraid of what they will be. He will wait, stubbornly, until they come in the mail and he HAS to deal with them...just because he'd rather keep his blissful ignorance for a while. It's funny how similar we can be at times.
It's a flaw we both should really work on, and strive to change. And knowing that I have this error in my make, you'd think that it would be easy to overcome it and reach a better state of my own self. But even in that, too, I am stubborn...and even in that, I avoid the uncomfortable effort that comes with making the change.
Yet, over the last few months I have realized that I have an even greater flaw that I never thought to include...perhaps because it is so deeply embedded in me that I hardly noticed it was there. Or maybe I just thought it was natural, and something that everyone goes through. I desperately, tragically, constantly avoid anything uncomfortable or any confrontation. I don't deal well with anger or frustration or having the blame placed on me, even when it is most certainly my fault. I will lie to escape any sort of uncomfortable situation - I will avoid someone inevitably, just to escape an argument. I suppose I am happier with the unknown - never reaching a conclusion to a problem, just because I don't want to deal with the problem itself.
And I'll avoid knowledge that may be negative...avoid finding out something that may make me unhappy or upset, just because I fear deeply those emotions. And though there might be comfort or relief in knowing, it's a chance I do not take.
It's funny, because I see it in my own brother. I watch as he, day after day, refuses to look at his class grades online, just because he is afraid of what they will be. He will wait, stubbornly, until they come in the mail and he HAS to deal with them...just because he'd rather keep his blissful ignorance for a while. It's funny how similar we can be at times.
It's a flaw we both should really work on, and strive to change. And knowing that I have this error in my make, you'd think that it would be easy to overcome it and reach a better state of my own self. But even in that, too, I am stubborn...and even in that, I avoid the uncomfortable effort that comes with making the change.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Sea Fever
"Sea-Fever"
I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
By John Masefield (1878-1967).
(English Poet Laureate, 1930-1967.)
I like this poem. I grew up on the shores of Connecticut, and have always lived within a few miles drive of the sea. It is part of my home, and I can't imagine living somewhere without an ocean nearby. It digs itself inside of you, crawling inside of your veins and urging you to be emerged in the water. The crashing of waves calls you back to the primordial womb, bringing out the most basic and instinctual of desires. When on it, wind ripping through your hair, you are more alive than you have ever been before, aware of every feeling and sensation and movement. When in it, it is almost like flying.
Maybe only people who spend a lot of time near the water can relate -- those from coastal towns or who make their living on the sea. But given enough time, it becomes an inherent part of you.
I must go down to the seas again.
I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
By John Masefield (1878-1967).
(English Poet Laureate, 1930-1967.)
I like this poem. I grew up on the shores of Connecticut, and have always lived within a few miles drive of the sea. It is part of my home, and I can't imagine living somewhere without an ocean nearby. It digs itself inside of you, crawling inside of your veins and urging you to be emerged in the water. The crashing of waves calls you back to the primordial womb, bringing out the most basic and instinctual of desires. When on it, wind ripping through your hair, you are more alive than you have ever been before, aware of every feeling and sensation and movement. When in it, it is almost like flying.
Maybe only people who spend a lot of time near the water can relate -- those from coastal towns or who make their living on the sea. But given enough time, it becomes an inherent part of you.
I must go down to the seas again.
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