The music feels better with you...

I am possessive. Strange way to start a blog perhaps, but I just came to the realisation that I can’t always give and be happy. I want some things for me. Is that possessiveness - or greed?

Now, I’m not talking about my natural possessiveness of David for instance – I love him beyond all else. I want for him everything that could ever make him happy, to spare him misery and pain and for him to experience life and all it can offer. Naturally (I feel) I want to protect him and spend every minute I possibly can with him. I know he can’t he experience “all life has to offer” if I make him live it in tandem, but I have no doubt that David will always be independent of mind and character, and I hope too that he feels no obligation to always spend time with me. I know that our happiness depends on each other, and I have a sneaking suspicion that any doubts I have about the “healthiness” of spending “too much” time with him, are not my own. I know I love him; I know I love spending time with him; and I know I will never regret any time that I do spend with him.

Anyway. Slight digression. The time I spend with David is not at the heart of the issue: I spend a lot of time with him, and as far as I’m concerned, the only person who is within their rights to tell me it’s “too much” is David himself – and I would always hope that he would do so if necessary. No. This possessiveness is an extension of my relationship with David.

I get possessive of the experiences we share, to the exclusion of others. More specifically to the exclusion of people that I perceive to be potentially threatening to, or judgemental of, our relationship. But sometimes all others. Anybody and everybody. This can be as nonsensical as family members, celebrities or the people who come to watch him dance at a cabaret. IT IS NOT LOGICAL FOR ME TO FEEL THIS WAY. But for some reason, I do.

This emotion, (a form of jealousy), seems to manifest itself primarily in conjunction with music. I tend to react negatively when musical experiences that, for whatever reason I have associated with David, are shared by anyone else other than “us” (David and myself). But what may be the craziest part of it all is that David doesn’t need to be aware of any association that I have made between a song and our relationship for it to be of huge significance to me.

For instance: Paul and Emily picking wedding songs and David - being thoughtful, loving and helpful - suggesting songs. There is nothing that is in any way unreasonable or hurtful in the above example. But, during these conversations, all it took was just the briefest mention of a song that I associated with David for my heart to wrench bitterly - never more so than when David was making the suggestion… a ridiculous and unreasonable reaction on my part.

Case in point: I impulsively gave Steve a CD of Nickel Creek this afternoon, and have been regretting it ever since. (The result of which has been this blog.) They are songs that I have shared with David, and I don’t want to share with anyone else. Interestingly however, this exclusivity doesn’t extend to people that I know independently of David. For example I’m happy to share the music with Daina & Carlie – but I don’t believe how awful I feel for having given it to his dad… WHERE HAS ALL THE LOGIC GONE???

I usually offer a conclusion at the end of my entries. The standard result of such an analytical procedure is to have formulated some sort of a reason or at least hypothesis. But I think I will need help for this one. I can’t think of any reason why I react this way. Maybe it’s because part of what made me fall in love with David was the first ever mixed-tape he made me. Maybe it’s because music is important to both of us, albeit in different ways. Maybe I want to protect that which I feel to be ours. But why then do I not react the same way to everyone? Hopefully in the first step to resolving this ridiculousness, I believe I have identified a pattern that I wasn’t aware of in terms of the fact that people closely associated with David are excluded and those more distant are not. But in any case, I don’t know why… David has never given me any reason to question him and I have nothing but love and complete trust for him.

*sigh* At least it’s all out on the table now… and I do feel better for having typed it out. One step closer to normality.

"We have normality, I repeat we have normality. Anything else you still can't cope with is therefore your own problem."
- Douglas Adams

Ask why. You might not like the answer, but it's better than following along blindly!

I need to blurt and at the moment, I have nowhere else to do so, so I will just type it all out. First, I feel the need to clarify that I am aware that I am not being logical, although I am doing my best to remain reasonable. Therefore, the following is merely an expression of feelings and opinions based solely on my experience and assumptions - which may, in many ways, be wildly inaccurate and unreasonable, but I can't change them, (at least not before I've expressed them and had a chance to consider other's opinions) so here they are.

I have an issue with the concept of a "Buck's Night" and I can't work out what it is specifically that annoys me. (Not "annoys" - that's not quite the right word, nor does it frustrate or irk - lets say it kind of just buzzes in the back of my head.) Anyway, the "Buck's" is buzzing in the back of my head, and I suspect it is because I don't understand it. I had thought that the point of it was self-explanatory, but to be thorough, I think it is important to have a definition with which to work. I think it is supposed to be a celebration of the groom's last days/weeks of freedom before marriage. Now let us consult the authority on all things pondered on the web - the Wikipedia entry.... "Buck's party, or buck's night (Australia) is a party held for a bachelor shortly before he enters marriage, to make the most of his final opportunity to engage in activities a new wife or husband may not approve of, or merely to spend time bonding with his male friends (often in his wedding party afterwards.)"

It is very tempting for me to say "fair enough". However, to do so would be actually defeating the point of trying to work out why it is buzzing in the back of my head, so lets look at this closely.*** First, the wiki definition. I take issue with the fact that it is to make the most of a chance to engage in activities the parter (to whom they are already engaged) may not approve. Given that I believe respect to be an important factor upon which a relationship should be based, all of your partners needs, desires and wants should be considered. This does not equate to being accepted or fulfilled, but most certainly considered, therefore respected, and if necessary, negotiated. (Compromise is part of life for those who missed that lesson.) Therefore, if you are engaging in something because you won't get away with it later, that's not a really good basis for a relationship. In terms of my, somewhat less objective definition, the buck's night actually comes across more as a berevement - he's going to lose his freedom, better do something to mark the sacrifice. This, to me, actually puts a negative slant on the whole "impending marriage". And don't think that I'm just going to town on the boys - the hens nights are just as ridiculously based in my opinion. If there is any give, take and/or understanding in the relationship, there shouldn't be any "freedom" lost. Freedom to do what anyway? If they're having a bucks, they're already engaged, so the idea of one last fling I definitely don't accept as being reasonable. Freedom to go out and have a night with the girls/boys - there shouldn't be anything wrong with that before or after the marriage! Why turn it into something that has to happen because there will be "no further opportunity" to do so?

My conclusion is that I am overreacting. A bucks night is just a "rite of passage" and a harmless bit of fun, and girls can have their night too so there's no need to whinge. Or at least, that would be my conclusion if I decided I accepted what society foists upon me to accept. I can and do accept the idea that guys need their space and boy time as much as girls need their time. But the only difference I can really see between a boy bonding party and a bucks is that girls are politely asked to respect the idea of a boy's night together in the former, and expressly excluded from any involvement in the latter. Maybe that's why I'm touchy. I'm a control freak, I accept that. But I don't need to control this, and I know that. So maybe I'm just human - I don't like feeling automatically left out for being who I am.

I will, however, openly admit that much of my views are attributable to the fact that I have a fabulous and understanding boyfriend, with whom I have a very open and communication based relationship. (At the moment I talk, and he listens but we know this, and I am learning to listen and he is learning to talk :) As far as I am aware, there has not yet been a subject that we have been too uncomfortable to identify as needing to be addressed at some stage, and I feel that every opinion either one of us can offer the other is carefully considered and taken into account in all aspects of our (admittedly somewhat unusual and systematically complicated) decision making. Thus I am not in a position to see an official recognition of a relationship as a loss or negative, and my ideals are therefore strongly reflected in my opinions - that everyone is entitled to the happiness and wonderful relationship I have had the opportunity to experience. I know not everyone is as lucky, and some bachelors may indeed have need for 'berevement' - they're about to lose something that makes them autonomous and independent - something that makes them who they are and allows them to express themselves without a "leash".

Ultimately, I think I just needed to look slightly beyond what I was being told to to find my own thoughts on the matter. I think I found them. And more importantly, I think I managed to delve just a little further into looking at why I should accept something that is otherwise just culturally the 'norm'. It's good to examine the norm. How did it get there? What is it's purpose? What is it's favourite colour?... I digress.

Buck's parties are by nature, exclusive. They can have different reasons for being held - both celebration and berevement of impending nuptials, as well as culturally accepted bonding of an educational nature. There is nothing wrong with them as long as the buck is happy to spend the rest of his life with his betrothed, and accepts the reason he is celebrating.

End rant.



*** At this stage I think it is important to note that I have been led to believe that guys do not read this much into things. It is not the point of this 'blurt' to ascertain the merits or accuracy of such a statement, however I can say with some confidence that that is exactly what girls are designed to do: over-analyse. This is my over-analysis, deal with it.)

So long, farewell, aufwierdersehen, goodbye! Adieu, adieu, to you and you and you...

Well, I haven’t updated for quite some time, so here it is.

I am currently watching an Audrey Hepburn movie about forgery and theft – “How To Steal A Million”. David was called in to work early at the pool (Oasis, where he lifeguards) so I came home for a while. Later I’ll be going to dancing (Cranbourne) where I now take Kid’s Class on Tuesday’s, and help out with Sunday and Monday socials. On Wednesday’s I take kid’s class at Boronia, and on Saturday mornings we have Level 2 teacher training. Next week I go back to uni (which, to be honest, I’m not looking forward to) and it’s my birthday in 2 weeks. (For which I have no plans as yet.) Later tonight, I will possibly watching the Dr Who Christmas special (The Runaway Bride). Aside from that, we have 2 new kittens, Remi (black and white) and Maxx (stripy, coloured like Burke). Honey hasn’t taken to them, so we have yet to see what will happen… and it’s hot. Will probably go for a swim soon.

And, to whomever reads this drivel, (I suspect it isn’t anyone, which is as it should be) if they are wondering how things are going with David, we’re only a month or so shy of our one year anniversary, and I love him with my heart and soul. He treats me wonderfully, makes me incredibly happy, and doesn’t hesitate to tell me how much he loves me too. I couldn’t possibly have dreamed such a frustratingly understanding and loveable individual. On Valentine’s day he bought me two (rather expensive) hug mugs from Max Brenners, so that I would no longer have to resort to swiping them, Lindt chocolates, and beautiful long stemmed apricot roses. We went out to dinner at the Pancake Parlour in Doncaster, where we played scrabble, and later had a luxurious bubble bath. (Maxx had a wonderful time trying to determine exactly where the bubbles went when he swatted them with his paw and they just disappeared!) Needless to say, the night continued from there and was simply wonderful. I couldn’t love anyone who deserved it more.

Anyway, that's the final post ever for this blog. There will no doubt be another, but this has served it's time. Thanks for the highs, thanks for the lows. Bye!

Highs and Lows...

You know the “trust exercise” where you fall backwards and your partner has to catch you? What I find interesting is that the apparent point of the exercise is to trust someone else; to rely on someone you may or may not know, to catch you. (The consequence, should they fail you, being painfully real.) Trusting others is the aspect drawn into focus on when this activity is performed. But when we shift our gaze a little further, and examine the exercise a little closer, it becomes clear that the fear doesn’t really stem from whether or not the person will actually do the catching. It’s surprisingly easy to trust someone else to do so, even a perfect stranger. No, it’s the fact that you have to let yourself fall that’s truly petrifying.

A long while back now, I was struggling to let myself fall, to surrender control and to trust myself. This is an excerpt of an unpublished blog from May 27th:

“I thought for a while that I was trying to learn how to trust David, to learn to trust love. But now I realise that the truth is, I’m struggling to trust myself. I already trust David implicitly. He has never given me a reason to do otherwise, and the more time I give him, the more I realise that is right thing to do… the more patient I am, the less I push, the less I force, the more readily it becomes apparent that he won’t let me down. But I’m scared. The temptation to cut and run is still there, always at the back of my mind. But I’ve made the decision, and I’m determined to resist – I am not going anywhere. Given time, I know that the temptation will fade. I know that I will surrender control, and breath easy. I know that David will be there for me, the way I need him to be there for me. Given time.”

We’ve come a long way since then, and I can now honestly say that reciprocated love makes you feel like nothing else. Trust cannot be forced, it must be earned and surrendered to, but once achieved, it is wondrous. Not once has David ever made me doubt his love or doubt myself, not even accidentally. Not once has he abused my trust or manipulated my emotions, not even jokingly, for any reason. Every day he reminds me that he loves me and that I am worth being loved. Our relationship is so open that every question can be asked without hesitation. We have no reason to argue. We have every reason to smile.

I know that David doesn’t realise, but he is the only thing that hasn’t fallen apart in my life in the last few months, and he is the only thing keeping me going.

At the moment I have a lot of suppressed anger manifesting itself as disappointment, leaving me entirely unmotivated. I am not passing at Uni, even though to get a pass requires hardly any effort. I am back to where I was in year 12 – caring, but not caring enough to pull myself out of the rut in which I find myself. I’m hiding from reality, pretending everything is ok. I’m hiding from having to deal with the choices I have made. And the longer I hide, the longer I put off sorting out my mistakes, the more difficult it becomes to face up to them and the more despondent I get. The more despondent I get, the less motivation I have for dealing with anything.

It’s a vicious cycle, further accelerated by the fact that once more, money is tight, which tends to restrain exuberance and freedom somewhat. I might reduce my study load to part time for one semester, and find some work so that I can feel a change of pace and live differently for a while. Dancing is still wonderful, but I am struggling to make it a financially viable exercise. Ideally it would be my main source of income, but unfortunately I doubt that ideal will be met. I know that what I do with my life is ultimately my decision, but to have the support of loved ones would be more helpful than criticisms – even those intended to be constructive. But we will see. I have to pull myself together to make the rest of the semester work. I just have to pass.

I am also painfully aware that I am not fulfilling the role of a friend anywhere near adequately, particularly for some whom I owe more time and respect. However any attempt to explain this seemingly irrational behaviour, leaves me no wiser than before, because the reasons are all intertwined between specific events and circumstances, and in the space of a few minutes everything can change. The kindest and simplest way would be to tell the truth promptly and without apology. But that would mean that I have to stop pretending. It would mean confessing mistakes. I know I’ve made mistakes, but I hate the way that confessions and apologies seem to be determinedly connected. I don’t want to apologise for my mistakes. I’m learning from them. And sometimes things cannot be explained for the simple fact that the reason, even though it could make a complex situation perfectly understandable, is too special and personal to share.

This may seem like a rather, well, depressed Blog. But it is not meant to be. Interestingly enough, despite the shambles which I have brought upon myself, I am still very happy. I will glue the pieces back together and I will make my apologies – if and when I am ready. I will not apologise for doing what felt best for me. I will not apologise for being happy. I am safe in the knowledge that my world cannot entirely fall apart as long as I have David.

Have you ever had a child jump from somewhere, let’s say, vaguely precarious, into your arms when you weren’t expecting it? That’s pure, unadulterated trust. The idea that you might not catch them, is a completely abstract concept, and doesn’t enter their heads until some nerve-racked adult puts it there. I trust that things will work out. I trust David. I trust myself.

I am back to being that trusting child, that will jump and know that someone will catch them. I am a child, with adult privileges :)

Tingling...

I should be studying. But I just have to confess that I am so tremendously happy and content, and tingling with anticipation, that studying just doesn't hold the appeal that it otherwise might... I promise to expand on this topic, however, for the sake of the reason that I am feeling this way, I must behave for a little longer, and as such, said expansion will have to wait until tomorrow!

Remember what happened to the man who had all of his dreams come true? He lived happily ever after...

I’ve found him :) A gentleman worth every ounce of love I can give him, and who is deserving of more. Someone who can make me smile without needing to utter a single word, and someone who will love me in return. I trust that this is the right thing at the right time. And I don’t care if the world knows who he is, as long as he knows that he can ask me to do anything, and that I will do it in an instant. Yet I know he will never ask me to do anything I wouldn’t want to. He is the man worth every tear I could shed, yet he will never make me cry. Someone who wishes me sugar-coated nocturnal subconscious images (also known as “sweet dreams”) is worth every agonising moment and cliff-hanging lifetime of trust. I don’t know how it started, but I thank every blessed angel that made this possible. I could never thank them enough…

Alegría, come un lampo divita - Alegría, like a bolt of life

Step up to the front. Tap your toe to the beat. Let the music move your limbs. A step to the right, a step to the left, two steps back. It’ s not progress, but who cares. Now look around. There she is. Your partner. Let the music move you towards her. She’s playing the game. Play along. Mirror her moves, mirror her moods. Find her eyes with your eyes. Sink into the music, let it carry you. Away. Away and within. Far and deep. Mmm! It’s so good. You link arms without a thought about who you should be. You let go. And the music plucks at your heart... Alegría.