What makes us attracted to those that we are? Experts spout off about colors, full lips, pink cheeks, et cetera. But why are we attracted to the personalities that we are? Does it have anything to do with how we are raised, who we are raised around? Or does it have nothing to do with our experience on this Earth? When I think about the personalities I am enamoured with right now, some of them make no sense. They say opposites attract. That must be true because someone like me would otherwise have no business being attracted to the tree-hugging, animal saving, do-gooder kind. (Though I do love animals, I also love certain ones in my tummy.) But there is also some flaw in that theory. Because then I would not like the personalities that so closely resemble that of my own. (Smart-ass, no-holds-barred, take-no-prisoners attitude and all.) Yet, I do. I just wonder if there is some sort of scheme to things. To why we like who we do, when we do. Be it fate, destiny, or God. What is it about the people we like? Is it predetermined for us? Is it all thought out before us? Or could it be that we are only supposed to find that certain person, and what we do from there is all on us? Could we screw it up? Could we go in different directions? Could it all be gone, just like that?
For now, I have no answers. But it's time to get back to my music and join the real world again. However unsavory and god-awful this horridly, wonderously beautiful world we live in is.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Forget Him
Forget his name, forget his face.
Forget his kiss,
his warm embrace.
Forget the love you once knew,
Remember he has someone new.
Forget him when they play your song,
Forget you cried all night long.
Forget how close you once were,
Remember he has chosen her.
Forget you memorized his walk,
Forget the way he used to talk.
Forget the things he used to say,
Remember he has gone away.
Forget his laugh, forget his grin.
Forget the dimples on his chin.
Forget the way he held you tight,
Remember he's with her tonight.
Forget the time that went so fast,
Forget the love that moved right past.
Forget he said he'd leave you never,
Remember he is gone forever.
Forget his kiss,
his warm embrace.
Forget the love you once knew,
Remember he has someone new.
Forget him when they play your song,
Forget you cried all night long.
Forget how close you once were,
Remember he has chosen her.
Forget you memorized his walk,
Forget the way he used to talk.
Forget the things he used to say,
Remember he has gone away.
Forget his laugh, forget his grin.
Forget the dimples on his chin.
Forget the way he held you tight,
Remember he's with her tonight.
Forget the time that went so fast,
Forget the love that moved right past.
Forget he said he'd leave you never,
Remember he is gone forever.
*Disclaimer: I am not the author and I own rights to nothing.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Fleeting Thoughts and Lingering Ideas
Lying in bed I had a fleeting thought...no, an all-encompassing thought, about my having been in what people classify as a tragedy. You see, I was hit by a motorcycle when I was, oh about ten. I was thinking about how different the experience must have been for my family. So frightening and unnerving. But, for me, it was nothing. No fright, no pain, no thought. Nothing.
When people talked about tragedies before, it seemed so awful for the poor person who went through it. But the truth is that it's not even like you are there. It's like something else takes hold of your body. (Death or God?) But whatever it is, you aren't there. You don't witness any of it. Because when you're that close to death, you don't know it. You don't feel it. You don't sense it. Eventhough your family may tell you that you responded when they asked you if you wanted to go to the hospital, you didn't. You were gone. All there is, is nothing. Like sleep without dreams or interruptions. Just black.
It just occurred to me that there really is no tragedy for the victim. (I swear it was days, forever. But in a blink of an eye. I didn't know-I still don't know-how long I was out.) The tragedy is with the loved ones. Not knowing if you'll live or die. Because while they were waiting those excruciating days (weeks?) for me to wake up, show some sign of life beyond a vegetative state, for me, it was just black, dreamless, nothingness sleep.
When people talked about tragedies before, it seemed so awful for the poor person who went through it. But the truth is that it's not even like you are there. It's like something else takes hold of your body. (Death or God?) But whatever it is, you aren't there. You don't witness any of it. Because when you're that close to death, you don't know it. You don't feel it. You don't sense it. Eventhough your family may tell you that you responded when they asked you if you wanted to go to the hospital, you didn't. You were gone. All there is, is nothing. Like sleep without dreams or interruptions. Just black.
It just occurred to me that there really is no tragedy for the victim. (I swear it was days, forever. But in a blink of an eye. I didn't know-I still don't know-how long I was out.) The tragedy is with the loved ones. Not knowing if you'll live or die. Because while they were waiting those excruciating days (weeks?) for me to wake up, show some sign of life beyond a vegetative state, for me, it was just black, dreamless, nothingness sleep.
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