Sometimes things happen for a reason- not often, but when they’re special things that reset your thinking and help bring about some form of clarity, it’s no doubt coming from some higher power without tripping over that unforgiving ninth step.
The night before I had seen someone I had known for around a decade have a meltdown. It was the alcohol talking mixed with anger, frustration and desperation. When after years of trying and with still nothing to show for it and all those wasted years trying to be what you hoped to hell you’d be with nothing to show for it, something snaps.
It’s about priorities- and finding them again and then, when they are found, the realisation that these are priorities to you and maybe not to everyone else. It’s about being more exclusive and with no need to run with the pack, especially those “met” in the sleepy hollow of the online world who suck you in and lead you down that rabbit hole of nothingness where many live or are stuck.
Once upon a Tomorrow Never Knows, many of us couldn’t wait to grow up, spread our wings, gain our independence and fly off to unknown lands where there were uncharted waters and adventures to be discovered and lived. We couldn’t wait. We took walks on the wild side. Some of us survived, a few fell through the cracks. We moved on and often took some bravely stupid steps.
We fell in love, we fell out of love, we stayed in love and got married. We had children and became domesticated. Domesticated. It’s a funny word. Often it means giving up and becoming what you promised yourself you’d never become. But you did, yes, you did, yes, you did and the penny finally dropped. There was the realisation that you had become everything you never thought you would be: Boring. But having made one’s bed, there was a need to lie in it at least for a while. Guilt pangs surfaced when wondering if this was just living a lie. Often it was- a lethal cocktail of falling in lust, thinking it was love until that train dropped you off at the right station. It was fun while it lasted, but it was just a U2 song.
Watching the recent spate of awards shows supposedly to acknowledge and celebrate the arts- films, film makers, actresses, actors- please, Natalie Portman, note that actresses were mentioned before actors- musicians, music etc etc, what one has been exposed to is a Hollywood made chain reaction of politics, sermons, self righteous indignation, and hashtags. What the hell was Hillary Clinton doing appearing at the Grammys? There’s Bruno Mars and then there’s Hills reading from the book “Fire And Fury”? Enormously stupid move.
The reading of #FireAndFury and the #Grammys was one of the lowest class things I have ever witnessed on television and I dont get why Hillary Clinton continues to embarrass herself.
Instead of taking a break from #MeToo and #TimesUp, these award shows have become another platform to pummel the senses with speeches and sideshows that often ring hollow as it is more of the same- the same old crocodile tears on the same background, the . same old same old with no answers, no solutions, and no answers to And now what? Time’s up is a nice enough term for a hashtag, and the message behind it, but surely it must be more? How is this hashtag and rah rah speeches from celebrities going to achieve what everyone hopes they achieve?
Home is no longer where the heart is so the time has come to call it quits and follow that wanderlust. There’s now the final realisation that she’s left your life forever. Those days of looking back and thinking that maybe everything can be reversed and resolved are part of some very distant memory. Even if she were to return, it wouldn’t work. Both have changed and moved on forever. The delete button has been pressed. And so you move on not knowing on what square you will land.
Trina, the girl I married, called this morning to express her displeasure at being mentioned in the autobiography being written and published as a blog on social media. But, why, I asked? I had only written about her with the utmost respect. About being the wonderful human being I was fortunate enough to have met, the girl with whom I fell in love for all the right reasons, married for richer or poorer and with whom we had a beautiful daughter. But, she didn’t want her nor her daughter mentioned on “the Internet”.
Her reaction was disappointing. Extremely disappointing. And once people disappoint me, there’s no point in keeping up false pretences and holding hopes for any kind of reconciliation.
You start to think when the first tell-tale signs started to show. Was it the repetition for years of the same two jokes about being on a seafood food diet and where she sees food and wants to eat it, or that other one about how mangoes where women go? Was it the much repeated story of the many years my parents waited to have me, their only child, and the hours she was in labour before I decided to pop out- on her birthday- apparently looking like an…eggplant.
The passing away of Glen Campbell recently to Alzheimer’s which leads to full-blown dementia struck home. My mother passed away from this dreadful disease some years ago and it’s always been something I’ve “blocked from view”. But as the feeling of mortality finally grabs you by the balls, you try to retrace your steps for some answers, and, perhaps, redemption.