I'd say it's that time again; and it sort of is. Only this time it isn't tinged with depression. This time it's simply apathy. I literally can't care. I try to be annoyed; I try to be amused; I try to be concerned. I can't. And it's pretty cool. I do everything I'm meant to do and stay aloof. Untouched by life.  and Apparently this is a deadly sin. I was reading about the seven-cum-fourteen deadly sins decided upon by the catholic church. Apathy is one of them. I can see why it could be sinful to not care about a thing but it doesn't feel that way. Hell, it doesn't feel; period. It could be sad, I suppose. Maybe it'll be sad when I'm thirty and still apathetic. But for now, it is good. It is no headaches, no heartaches, no fatigue from involving yourself in problems that are not your own especially when the other party couldn't care about your reaction. And if they do; it would have nothing to do with you; it would be about themselves. How it all applies to them. I appreciate this state of apathy I am in and I will savor it for its run; whether sinful or not.

Marriage. Don't some of us just wish to have never heard of that word? I'm not one of them. I happen to like that word. How else would I know how to address the institution that has been fucked up of its original intent by...shall we say well meaning assholes?

As I know it, marriage started off as a commitment between two people for the purpose of progressing a family's stand in the society. Imagine that; society came before marriage. So apparently the guys in society who had more than average wealth and wanted to keep it that way invented the legal version of marriage. Of course this is in the Euro-asian sense. Us here in Africa married for the sake of love, life and every reason to do with wealth as well.
Somehow, as the centuries went by and all the average guys wanted to be more than average, the average guys went and started mainstreaming marriage which meant giving it rules and boundaries and mixing it up with the natural marriage that had been experienced before. A natural marriage being the kind where people are drawn to each other to be together for life. Yeah, I believe marriage in its original state was a lifelong relationship. And it was until those ambitious average people went and messed it up.
So, now marriage is just a contract; a paper; a game to some people; a phase of life to most. It's something average people do even if they are well off or heirs to thrones.
But that's modern marriage. Thanks to La Vie Boheme (LVB) philosophy, original marriage does exist. LVB is generally meant to be a life lived without attachment to world's materialism. Yeah, bullshit mostly if you aspire to own stuff; but some people really don't want to own a lot of stuff. Personally, two formal seats for when the parents visit, a bed for sleeping; TV cause I'm a TV-head; a freezer cause I love ice and a shelf cause I love books. And a rack for the clothes. Because LVB is more about doing things that fulfil ones life than filling up the spaces around your life.
Marriage in LVB is about souls and personalities than names and bank accounts. Sure one's name is important; let's not go get married to people you can't even identify from afar by name. The essence however is attraction, emotion and consideration of someone(s) to other people. So it's not surprising to find a Bohemian married to three people who are married to other people.; homosexuals on the same level as heterosexuals and a/non-sexuals left to be because they can simply be. Neither is it surprising to find two people married to each other exclusively. As long as it makes you happy; it's awesome. Which is then the reason why it's not mainstream.
If mainstream becomes happy, then capitalism would fall and we all know how the self-appointed world superpowers would just love that--not. And frankly, it shouldn't be mainstream. Then all the negative, soul-draining demons known as normalcy would be the underdogs and far more appealing and just disdainful.
LVB marriage accepts everyone ready too be in a lifelong relationship; no matter the creed, sex, race, religion and mental state. It's about the love and if concentrated upon enough, love is really all one needs. For motivation that is. Love motivates one to invention, innovation and success. I imagine Thomas Edison and Benjamin Franklin did not merely admire their inventions and discoveries. No one stands in the rain and lightning storm with a kite! because they like it.

That's why I like the word marriage. If it hadn't been for researching this word I would never have known some world history and I would never have come to the knowledge that doing so in a modern 'normal' average setting is a serious case of fuck. Translation; frustratingly hard, disappointing and depressing. By the time someone's done ten months of modern marriage, they are emotionally ravaged and barely alive. Hence, adultery and divorce and messed up kids and in effect, a messed up world.

Dear Some-men

I know it's hard; especially in this day and age when women aren't your mother or cool aunt. When women don't want you to be outright manly but despise you if you are sensitive. I know. That said, there's a reason you're some-men and not the men (in this case, them men being gentlemen with the women they want in their lives). Following rules set up in a time when hard-headed women were punished by being confined in convents and being declared unmarriageable when marriage was all the rage is a dead and gone mentality. You should keep up with the times. Be firm but not condescending and how pray tell do you do that? Well, thank you for not asking.
The reason this comes up is simple: I was having an in depth meet of my mind. Some-men of my age-set are really lousy at the whole wooing game and instead of admitting that they are playing baseball on a tennis court, they blame the tennis court for disallowing baseball bats. Admittedly most girls my age don't know half of what they want in a guy but some of them do and they unfortunately end up with the Losers. Losers because these guys clearly know they have diamonds in their hands but treat their ladies like crystal. They don't keep their promises, they don't keep time, they don't believe in verbal expressions of the sensations their partners evoke in them and they certainly believe as long as they take the girl out for a drink once in a full moon, then it's a date. Even a stray dog can woo better than my peers. What's their excuse? Simple; it's how they were raised. (cue roll of the eyes)
Pardon the digression. Dear some-men, as I was saying; the ladies in your lives may be independent and self-sufficient but your involvement in their lives also calls for effort on your part to stay relevant in their lives and useful. Provide support even when they seem not to want it; compliment randomly and don't hesitate to show affection even if it's not your style. Why are you human if not using the natural instinct to seek out another human's companionship?
Leaving a woman to her own devices usually leads to you being out in the cold...or against alleyway walls having one-night stands at forty. Be firm in your presence in her life but don't railroad her i.e. set dates without the option of having them broken but don't drag her out of a meeting to sit her down at a table and scowl at each other. When walking down a street, have your hand on her back or around her hand firmly but not shoving or cutting off circulation. Hold her like you want her to be with you and you like her being with you. Some-men hold their women like it's a chore. If it's a burden to hold her then let her go. Even if she be a psycho. Save yourself and your well-being the trouble.
Dear Some-men, I understand that having not been raised to be one way makes it hard to be such a way but as long as you can think; you can most definitely change your habits.

Keeping Up with the Slackers

I am a writer by nature and so when I'm not looking for a paying job or signing up for Grad school; I usually am telling myself stories and writing them on my sister's laptop. I didn't have a place to put these stories until a couple of years ago when I found Wattpad. They defined it as the myspace of authors back then. Now it's apparently the youtube for authors. You get the gist. Now; unlike Myspace, Wattpad doesn't really bring much quality to its competition. Yeah, it's not objective for a writer to judge other writers but it's true.
The popular stories are not all well written and prove that the people popularising the stories don't know grammar and thus we'll have a bunch of 23 year olds in ten year's time who have no idea what good written language is. We have a bunch now but not so many that it'll be like finding a 30 year old virgin in this day and age.
The popular stories all have one thing in common; thrills. The people with the capacity of a laptop and internet connection (from here henceforth referred to as faurthors (TM)) don't have plot or growth in mind when they start. Most stories start off as one-shot thrills that turn into more-shot thrills thanks to horny teens and kids who think sub-par angst is awe-MGFRISKTGIF-some. They talk that way too.  The fauthors go so far as to ask for plot development from their readers like it's not their responsibility as a self-proclaimed author. Laziness at its height is my opinion.
My problem? Wattpad is supposed to help nurture authors like Myspace nurtures musicians. Provide a platform for them to publish their works because they are too young or too out of physical reach of publishing houses. How is a publishing house meant to take the players of the site seriously when fauthors dominate the standings? And if they happen to court the fauthors for publishing because of their popular standings, will I as an avid reader be then subjected to reading crap in my thirties? (ie in ten years) I'm seeing opening up an old books bookstore will be quite the hit at this rate with the products being touted currently as the next big thing being utter insults to the vocation of authoring fictional stories which has faced enough bashing over the centuries and only in the last hundred and fifty years become respectable in general.
The solution? Well, so far none. I am looking at other online-blog-type sites which cater to authors in hopes of finding one with a category that separates cheap-thrillers from authors.

Reconcile

I'm a writer and a damn good one...as evidenced by the record breaking sales ;) (my one-day-dream) and this here was inspired by Bryan Adams' Please Forgive Me. I credit all copyrights accordingly; all characters and settings are fictional and not intended to emulate anyone and if anyone has a similar story out there then Great minds think Alike cause I sure don't plagiarize. Onwards.

He stormed through the house, throwing his coat to his butler carelessly before pounding determinedly up the stairs. He couldn't believe the woman's gall. Leaving him to explain her abrupt departure from the ball. Fine, so he was at fucking fault; but she; as a woman; should have handled his temper far better than running away like a little girl. All her claims of being adult and mature were erased by that one move.
He stopped abruptly outside her room, knowing instinctively she would be in there like a chit hiding away from her parents because they refused to buy her a pony. He snorted derisively. She'd probably given her parents hell while growing up.
He tried the door knob and found it unwilling. So he banged against the door until it rattled against its hinges. "Open up!" he bellowed.
Silence greeted him, making him more incensed. "Woman; if you don't open this door, I will break it down!"
"Go ahead, you insufferable oaf!"
Well, at least she wasn't angry enough to give him the silent treatment. He hated that.
"Open up," he asked at a lower volume. A movement in his periphery caught his eye and he turned to see his wife's lady hanging in the wings, like she could possibly protect her mistress from him. He threw her a scathing look and though she winced, she stayed firm. Women, he grunted; ever out to kill him.
"No," his wife responded.
"Why?" he asked absently.
She released a cry of disbelief. "Because you humiliated me tonight."
"I did no such thing," he growled.
"Yes; because calling me fat in front of all your friends with such disdain is not humiliating."
"I did not-."
"Yes, you did! You compared me to a cow. A cow, Philip. Like I can be traded at the market and not even for all that high a price. You say that after you leave my side all night."
He grunted in exasperation and leaned his head against the door. "All this drama for that?"
He stumbled forward as the door suddenly fell open and his wife's angry face was in his line of vision suddenly.
"Yes," she cried and moved to slam the door closed but he stopped her, one arm taking the force of the door while the other pushed her back.
He slammed the door closed behind him and turned to face her exasperated. He was ready to tear into her, convince her it was such a childish, stupid thought to misconstrue his words. Then he noted her sadness and he fought his anger beneath the surface.
"Why are you sad?"
She grunted her scoff and turned away from him.
"I didn't mean it that way," he said sincerely.
"Sure," she responded sarcastically.
"Truthfully. I saw you dancing with...him and I felt...jealous and I-," he broke off knowing he really had meant to insult her. "I am sorry," he said in a soft voice.
"You are never sorry," she threw back his declaration at her.
"I am now."
She turned to face him, wiping her face and making him feel like a cad. "Why did you do it?"
He sighed and looked down ashamed. Then he looked into her eyes. He started walking to her and she stepped back. He was quicker than she and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her to him. If she couldn't believe his words; she would believe his body. She always did.
When he made to kiss her, she ducked and twisted herself from his hold.
"It's not that easy this time," she declared with an air of offense.
"I don't like it when you dance with him," he said stoically, earning a look of annoyance.
"We're married."
"He doesn't act like he knows that. The way he looks at you and touches you-," he broke off at the disgust he felt at the thought of her ex-suitor being so close to her. "It makes me crazy. And I'm sorry that I insulted you. I...wanted to hurt you like your dancing with him hurt me."
He reached out again and took her hand gently. She let him pull her towards him, letting his hand slide around her waist.
"I am sorry."
She looked at him blandly.
"I just...I can't help the way I feel for you," he forced out, smiling at the look of surprise in her eyes. "These past few years that we've been together...I have still been in love with you. I don't show it in a normal way, I know but I do."
He leaned in to kiss her but she shied away. He insisted until she gave in, their lips moving from gentle touches to searingly intense lockings. He savoured her fingers delving into his hair, sending tingles down his spine. He reached for her gown's collar but she pulled away vehemently, shaking her head at him.
"Not again. Not this time."
"Don't deny me."
"Why? You deny me all the time," she threw back. "You always leave me; you always leave me alone."
"It's the way I am."
"It's the way you want to be!"
He took a step forward and she ran around the bed.
"Just leave me alone tonight; please just go to whoever it is you go to for your release and leave me alone like you always do."
He rolled his eyes at her dramatics and stalked around the bed. She couldn't escape him unless she went over the bed; which was her intention but not a well thought out plan. The textures of her gown and the bed-cover slowed her down enough for him to get to her, grabbing her ankle and turning her over so quickly that by the time she was putting up a fight he was on the bed leaning over her.
He leaned in and smelled her skin, nuzzling her neck and putting a kiss on her that made her push him away forcefully. He ignored her resistance, sitting up to undo his waistcoat and shirt. In one move, they were both off and she paused in her struggle. He smirked, knowing she liked what she saw.
He leaned over her slowly, letting his body move so languidly that his muscles rippled fluidly. He heard her breath hitch and smiled. He kissed her forehead, trailing down to her ear.
"It's just the way I love you is so intense. I am scared of hurting you with it; of scaring you off. I don't mean to push you away. I didn't mean to make you feel alone," he kissed her ear, feeling her shiver. "Let me prove it to you."
He kissed his way down her jaw, nudging her head up to kiss her neck and under her chin.
"Believe me, sweetheart. I love you and I've never stopped," he kissed his way down to her decolletage, tugging at her gown's collar.
She put her hands over his waist, pushing slightly at him until he sat up. Then she leaned up on her elbows and started pulling at the gown's back. He shifted backwards off the bed quickly and pulled her to stand up and made short work of her gown's laces. He didn't wait for the dress to fall off before pulling her to him and kissing her for all he was worth.
He picked her up and climbed the bed with her, laying her across it and making love to her far more intensely than ever before. When he entered her, he paused, rising up onto his forearms and waiting until she looked up at him.
 "You feel so much better than I remember," he kissed her deeply and started moving ever so slowly.
"There's only you. There's only ever been you," she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. "You're the only one I'll ever want, Philip. I'll never stop loving you."
He sped up with every declaration of love, until her tears were overshadowed by her pleasure. Climaxed and well spent, he slid out of her and lay beside her, covering her with his arm.
"I meant it, Georgie," he whispered. "I'm sorry for the way I love you but I do love you."
She nodded against him, giving him a light kiss on his chest. "I love you, too."
"I know."

Indulgent

I have always thought I was open with people. That whoever I considered a friend knew me but yesterday I found out that’s not the case. In as much as I talk alot; no one knows much about me which I suppose shouldn’t bug me but it does make me question how guarded I am and why.

I know why and it isn’t pretty or helpful to repeat it over and over again. But why can’t I get over it? I still shouldn’t hope that one day I’ll be straight laced when I don’t even let one of my best friends know what I am about.

We were talking about drama in our lives and he said that mine has the kind that amuses him. I don’t think my life has drama but he said that particular situation I told him about was dramatic. I think it’s just annoying. The surprising part was that he was hearing for the first time and I thought he knew about it. Made me wonder what else don’t people know about me that they should. I came up with nada. Does that make me a bad person?

I don’t think so. I think it makes me quite boring but bad? Maybe sad; definitely introverted. Psychs say that withholding info about oneself is a form of abuse; lashing out at other people who express interest in the subject. But what if it’s unintentional? Unconscious? They say it isn’t and even if the subject doesn’t feel it’s selfish and unfair, they know it is which made me figure that sometimes I do intentionally keep things to myself. Not to punish someone or anything but because I don’t find it relevant to the topic.

So; how do I rectify this little problem? I have no idea. All these trust exercises I have gotten in my research just seem pretentious and energy consuming. Not cool. Especially when one is not motivated as I am. Guess I’ll just suck it up and play the part until I become the part.

Passing Go

Say you love me but your face isn’t right

You claim at night your pillow you hold tight

Dreaming of me spending the night

Being held in your arms till the dawn’s light.

You say you’ll wake me with kisses and love,

That it will register nothing else above.

You say you’ll make me feel alive

And truly the centre of your world.

But I know the  moment I give in you’ll run.

You’ll tuck tail and pretend we never were.

You’ll tell your friends I was just for fun

And they’ll look at me pitiful and dumb.

They’ll know you tricked me with your tongue,

That your words were overhyped.

They won’t stand for me however

Because men just support each other for life.

So I’ll stay saying no.

I’ll smile at you and pass go.

I’ll tell you to pick some other girl who can handle the end result.