PURSUIT OF PERFECTION (part 2)

Once I'm done with this, it'll be the second confession posted in my blog; my second and last this week.

Ever since last Friday, guilt has perpetually been gnawing at my heart at a merciless pace, my instances of absent-mindedness slowly increasing with each passage of day. To be quite honest, I'm not quite sure what to do when such situations come up; for at times, the string of thoughts lingering in my mind just gets even more disarrayed and entangled, leading to worse outputs of certain things which I would normally have done poorly, anyway.

It's sort of frustrating, really, especially when it comes to taking exams at school.

But what can I do?... The book of life goes on.

...as does this haunting feeling of letting someone down who has moved you to the core.

If you're reading this, there is something you have to know: X and I had several things in common, the most crucial similarity being our frequent grumbling and moaning when it came to our daily course.

We were both complainers: we were always criticizing even the tiniest detail which would normally escape someone else's eye.

Yet, ironically enough, she really DID have an irrefutable reason for her countless complaints,... whereas I had none.

Can you still recall my previous post concerning this topic?
Well, on that day, I learned that almost NOTHING is how it seems ("seeming and being", as a Shakespearean would put it).

(continuation)

 X: "...and please don't freak out."

Renee: " I won't. You know me, I've got guts of stone.

I looked into her eyes deeply and as penetrating as I could. As always, they still showed this unraveled mystery, two infinite abysses. Suddenly, a flicker of hesitation.

Renee: "No one's forcing you to. It's fine if you don't."

My mouth curled up into what I hoped to be a charming smile, droplets of water running down my face. I felt cold.

X: "No- I'll tell you. I don't know whether you've noticed this, but you know how I rarely mention my father? There's a reason for that."

 

I nodded curtly, the word "abandonment" crossing my mind. "Whatever it is," I thought to myself,  "I probably should prepare myself for it." The air became taut.

X: "Well...it's... how can I say this..."

She stammered, her face rigid and emotionless, the blood rushing faster in my veins and my heart thumping loudly in rhythm.

I inhaled sharply when all of a sudden, my heart stood still.

X: "I'm being sexually abused by him."

With that, bitter tears swiftly came streaming down my face; my mind vacant, and an overwhelming feeling of shock taking over me.

The only sentence my mind could conjure up then was: PERFECT? Who has the PERFECT LIFE now?...


P.S: I'm sorry if it'll take some time to write part 3... I'm kind of busy this coming week!

Grey

This is the third post of this blog.

Third, as in three. An awe-inspiring progress, isn't it? :P

These past few days, I've been confronted with a writer's worst nightmare: a so-called writer's block, one of the most dreadful things that could ever happen to a person whose passion is writing (apart from not having freedom of speech!)

Sure, it's absolutely normal for untrained authors like me, even for professionals who write every day, but it just sort of eventually gets on your nerves to look at your blog daily with no improvement at all. But what the heck.

So anyway, I was on my way home today on foot, something that's slowly becoming one of my daily routines ever since my Monatskarte had expired (to those who don't know what it is, it's an all-around ticket needed to use public transpo here in Germany).

School had just ended and my class had just gotten dismissed by our P.E teacher; in short, I felt extremely disgusting as my back was still drenched in sticky sweat. AND I was in a terribly bad mood. Let's just say that the day took a wrong turn right from the very start. Why? I'll tell you why.

1) I had been mercifully stripped off of my right to sleep last night. Ok, therein lies a tad bit of exaggeration, but I still lacked sleep during the whole course of the day, leading to an unwanted hostility towards others ... even talking to people was tedious, so I just tried to remain utterly still and quiet during classes, avoiding questions whose answers weren't  as terse and as simple as the words "yes" or "no".

2) The German test. Actually, to be quite honest, my confidence had been boosted to its very peak before going to school,after repeatedly having told myself that I'll survive it somehow, especially while regarding my pretty proficient gut feeling when it comes to grammar. After all, I had been fed with heaps of German grammar for one year, so what could happen, right? ...

Well, upon receiving the exam, my jaw dropped. Literally. It wasn't that I hadn't any clue at all, but rather the task of having to correct a letter teeming with myriad mistakes in ONE sentence and/or phrase by underlining the errors and by writing, depending on the the errors' type, the letters "A" (for Audruck or verbalism), "Gr" (Grammatik or grammar), "R" (for Rechtschreibung/spelling) or "Z" (for Zeichensetzung/punctuation). Conclusion? I got flustered, so confounded that migraine slowly got hold of my clear thinking. The thing is, the mistakes committed in that letter were all overlapping each other, so I didn't know what to underline. I mean, some words were clearly grammatically wrong, but they were also misspelt...so was I supposed to write a Gr or R?...Or both? Ugh. Let's just move on.

3) People were sulking ... and the weather shed tears, too. Fine, I was in an uncongenial mood as well, but I at least tried my best to suppress it and summoned up all my efforts to at least conjure up even the smallest of smiles. I even did several times. And what do I get in exchange? Blank stares. No offence at all; the day seemed to be appointed as day of listlessness, anyway; I mean even the weather was grey and crying.

4) Numbers, my bestestest friends. I've got a confession to make: I've never been extraordinarily talented in math. Ok, so I often understand everything and manage to find the answers by myself... However, let me put it this way: I'm not born to be a mathematician and I'm aware of that. You might be asking yourself by now where the problem is. My reply to that? Impatience. Since I had been absent the last time my class had had math, I wasn't capable of comprehending the tasks at once for I still hadn't caught up with what I had missed ... and my teacher, as always, just didn't make it any easier at all. You know that sort of teacher who's short-tempered and whose raging high blood starts to boil up after a student has merely asked a single question? ... Well, need I say more?

5) Physical failurecation. Volleyball was up (still is next week^^) and our group's hands weren't the most dexterous ones. I used to dislike this sport very much, due to the excessive sensitivity my arms seemed to possess against hard balls pelting towards them; but now, I am even learning to like it... Too bad my fingers now experience an excruciating pain when touched even by the lightest thing (they even hurt when I type, but then again, no pain, no gain).

As you can now see, I was in a peevish, irascible state as I made my way home, thoughts in the dumps and in a sullen mood. I then reached out for my iTouch in the pocket of my pants, melodic music echoing in my ears, and pressed the forward button with a certain languidness. The screen now showed: "KIDS- MGMT".

Frowning, I walked on, each step taken dragging me nearer to my destination, the grey clouds above filled with moisture, threatening to give in anytime and to make it rain. I thought to myself: "Oh, what a grey day!"

I started observing the passersby, inly complaining to myself how my day hadn't been how I would have wished it to be.

Eventually, I came to a bitter realization: people I encountered traversing on the streets had two things in common: the hastened pace they were going at and the permanent scowl etched on their face.

And with that, the moroseness which had been controlling me the whole day suddenly vanished in an instant, and the only thoughts hovering in my mind were those of constructive complaint.

Why were all of them frowning like that?

Weren't they aware of the effects a frown has on other people's moods?

Why did they all seem to be in a state of utter discontentedness, when things could be much worse?

...

...

My point is, people are just too absorbed by the monotony of their daily routines, their minds dominated by thoughts full of "have tos" and "if nots".

Have we all become apathetic robots whose purpose and reason have been preprogrammed in our systems?

It seems to be that, by being under this pressure the society puts us in; a pressure which arises from our need and intense will to survive, as well as from our profound fear of having nothing and losing it all, we all just forget to stop and relax, even for a few moments.

We forget to look around. 

To think again.

To smile.

To laugh. 
To spread happiness and color.

...And if there's anyone out there who's wondering why the world seems to be black and white, think again; the reason's inside.

 

Subjective Beauty.

 The other day, someone asked my friend and me what we can see.

vulgar vandalism ... or perfection in art?

His answer was the latter.

... and mine? Neither. 

PURSUIT OF PERFECTION.

"A beautiful thing is never perfect, for it is its imperfection which renders it its beauty."

There are countless wonts human beings establish in the course of their life, whether this be subconsciously or knowingly. As inevitable as some are, these characterize us, forming unerasable lines which distinguish our individual self from others... And that is what the pursuit of perfection is all about: the individuality that lies in striving for our own personal improvement. Some, however, unfortunately exert effort in vain, for it is not their own selves they should be working hard on, but rather, their own broken surroundings.

Everything started as I stayed in bed the whole day today, earning another absence in school. There really wasn't much to do; I mean when you throw up everything that should be passing through your digestive system every few minutes, you don't exactly have much of a choice but to just lie down (and rot), waiting for that bitter feeling of puke to disappear, right? Besides, I wouldn't want to stain the tiles of my school corridor even more, would I (actually, I'd love to... but then again, it's dirty enough as it is.)?

So anyway, I lay there, the four walls enclosing me (for HOURS) in a cage-like room, a sensation of claustrophobia slowly creeping down on me(it made me feel even more nauseous, and it was also kind of peculiar, especially after seeing a black spider crawling right next to my hand, me shrieking inly while being too listless to sweep it away. Talk about laziness in a life-death situation).

Eventually, my gaze landed on a box right under my study table, where I had always kept letters and pictures my friends had given me in the past years. I then took, opened and studied its content meticulously, dredging up indelible memories from my pre-teen years, my heart swelling with overwhelming glee (ok, so let's not get too emotional here. let's fast-forward!)..., when suddenly, I came across a postcard from a very close friend of mine, who I had always secretly admired(no, not in a freaky stalker kind of way, but just pure reverent admiration), and who I always had deemed to be perfect: immaculate looks, a sexy body, sharp as a knife and as smart as Einstein: pretty dream-like, right?

I wouldn't say I was envious of her, because I've mostly always been satisfied with myself, but whenever I encountered a (stupidly enough) self-caused problem, I usually compared myself to her. I guess that's just human nature (I even know that it is), yet at times, this odd feeling of wanting to be something else still arose. Ok, so maybe invidia DID fill my heart occasionally whenever I thought of her abundant success (seemingly unsurmountable for me!), but in the end, that begrudging feeling of envy was rather turned into a kind of fueling motivation which still evokes my zeal in certain situations these days.

As I scrutinized her postcard, our very first heart-to-heart conversation (which was held in the bathroom, btw!),suddenly came to mind, the first time I learned more about what truly lay beneath that unblemished mask. Apparently, even Porcelain dolls have invisible cracks.

Renee: "...But it's absolutely amazing!" (I was amazed by the oil painting she had made).
X: "Learned that technique from my father."
Renee: *silently brushing her teeth* (I didn't know what to say then, for I seldom saw her dad. Her mentioning him was a shocking suprise in itself).
X: "You know, I'm sorry. (The atmosphere became so tense that I pretended to still brush my teeth). I think it's kind of unfair how you know so little about me, although you are one of my closest friends..."
Renee: *this time washing her face*
X: "I've never really wanted anyone to know, but now I changed my mind. *X smiled, her spotless white teeth showing.* If ever you write a
book someday, I hope you won't forget my story."
Renee: "I promise, I won't."

And, ironically enough, I did (for a few years)...and now, that promise has come back to haunt me again.



P.S: I know, it's not yet done.