SOCIO1001; contribution of the day; drawing from personal experience

we all are broken. some a little some others more. variety lies in the way you let your cracks define you. how much you voluntarily let the 'broken' sign hover over your head and how much you obey it. so you are broken? you are damaged goods or whatever this stupid metaphor even means? smile like you aren't. don't excuse yourself and your mistakes because of your traumatic childhood or your failed marriage.we all have one reason or another to behave like complete assholes (better yet, sonsofamotherduck as one might say) but the struggle of it is to not to. because your inapt social skills will be what will screw up the next guy, thus initiatig and perpetuating a vicious circle of fuck ups production. if you are one, keep it to yourself. it is not mean, it is good home economics if you think about it.okay, it is a little mean,but you know what i am saying.

and quite frankly i am ashamed to be alive

11 centimetere heels and turquoize leopard zipper. nothing but a sign screaming run. if you can on those shoes..

okay, after watching every single american-or british, mind you- tv series there is actually worth watching, -i am talking about 'fringe' mixed with 'six feet under' and a twist of 'big bang theory' among others less endowed-, i figured, sex and the city. ( I can't believe I am writing this down, damn you hbo!)

Yup! the series. 1998 and the glorious cult sparkle. There is nothing the love for ridiculously expensive shoes, pointless satisfying for about half an hour sex , and luxurious post modern female drama can't cure.

 I know, it feels like a cheap shot but that is what insomnia does to you, and honestly, for once, I would like to indulge my ‘girly girl’ version without guilt just for the sake of curiosity, to see what will come of it.

Basically, the whole series tiptoes around the traditional goal of every woman's life; to find a man. First obvious question, why do we need a man? Because we do not want to be alone. However is it really deep rooted in our genes the impulse to take care of someone ( the impulse to try and change the people around us, to try and nurture them into what we want them to be, i.e. men., bloody maternal instincts if you ask me) or is it just more of an unconscious obligation impregnated in the minds of women by social standards? I mean, is it 'wrong' and out of the ordinary to be perfectly fine being alone? At first, I’d say yes from the point of view that supports that we are first and foremost social beings and have certain logical tendencies to 'reach out' to our equals and seek companionship in whatever form. But again, companionship may come in two or more people. Why that one person, that 'special friend' of a man or a woman is superior to everyone else in one's life. Can you share your heart with only one person? I don't think that spiritual monogamy is an approved term. So, the big question, is any kind of monogamy an approved term for the human kind? I think that all women would very much like to know why monogamy is so difficult for some men when to women it comes more naturally. What is it? Is it something about our hormones that makes women fall in love harder and out of it more brutally whereas men's range of feelings is half the one of females? So, it comes down to biology. We are who we are and we are different and we are twisted, with the super special addition that we have minds to realize it. Men are built in other ways than women. Where do they fit with one another though, if a man, being a man, and a woman, being a woman, function, think, and feel differently?

Halfway through the second season of the series awoke this sudden terror in me that i might end up alone. But hey, I am 18 years old, isn't it too melodramatic, and well stupid, to have such a crisis now?

i have enjoyed being single. i practically only know how not to be single with two or three people, not generally. Meaning, I don't know dating rules and all the philosophies concerning it that you hear other women proudly consult you with. All i know so far is that boys are stupid. And clearly so, because in biology they teach us that the Y chromosome is shorter than X. So males have less DNA than women. Okay, I know this is a ridiculous argument but as far as the women of the world are concerned my point is legit.

it is not a question of whether we die alone or not. Who cares? You are dying, what's the difference when someone is holding you hand dearly while it happens. In seconds you will be gone. And the memory of your loneliness or of your lover’s embraces is going to be nothing but scattered particles of dirt in the air while they bury your coffin. Your waking days are the only ones concerned. Well, and nights.

I suppose, that one person in our lives is superior to the others not in the spiritual exchange process, but in the physical competition. Sex. Because that is as much important as the exercise of the mind that 'your person' provides you with. Unfortunately, women during sexual intercourse produce certain hormones that mess up everything. Literally. Feelings and shit that crown the sexual partner with the title of the emotional dominatrix of the relationship. Men only experience pleasure.

In greek there is a very beautiful word,  hēdonismos, which practically means pleasure but is much more powerful. Some months ago I was reading Oscar Wilde, so naturally, I was thinking about hedonism and the norm of ‘psychological hedonism’, the direct derivative of human ‘psychological egoism’ intertwined with the common instincts of self preservation. If you don’t understand what the f I am talking about, Google it. Or stop reading. It dictates that all that human beings naturally seek out is pleasure. Pleasure minus pain squared.

"All men desire only satisfaction."

"Satisfaction of what?"

"Satisfaction of their desires."

"Their desires for what?"

"Their desires for satisfaction."

"Satisfaction of what?"

"Their desires."

"For what?"

"For satisfaction" ad infinitum.

Furthermore, a thought constantly bugging my mind throughout the series was, what is the role of a woman today? what does being a woman mean? It means, what being a woman in the 20’s was plus what being a man in the 20’s was. Really all we, women, managed to do is load our backs with more responsibilities and expectations and shit. Don’t get me wrong, I am beyond grateful about my rights and my freedom as firstly a woman, and secondly as just another human being, but not everyone seems as grateful. Women are still displayed in magazine covers as if their clothes wear them instead of being worn, and we all grow up with our goals balancing between becoming beautiful, charming, successful, maternal, sexy, independent, good wives, good cooks, good hostesses, good in bed. One cannot hope to be all that.  Not because one cannot, but because if one would actually attain all that, she would have a severe case of multiple personality disorder and would then also have to become a good psych patient.

I think, and I am not sure, I have lost sense of where I was getting at.

the green land and the glassy waterfalls

well okay. this, right now, this just feels weird.
i haven't slept in more than a day and i have spent the last three hours of my life battling the rising sun itself to see who is going to give up first and hide under the sheets and unfolding my super satanical extra plausible only in a universe where unicorns rule all plan for the next, um, i dunno, decade of my life. yup. and it is juicy.
actually, it is sort of, well, insane and ridiculous -capital R- i don't wanna use capitals as much, they seem a little too aggressive for my taste-.
you know, those people that always have a plan, "the plan". guilty as charged, even though i have never dreamed this day would come, judging from the course of my life so far that has been a chaotic ugly akward mess, i am the one with a plan. fact is, all i have so far is a university acceptance letter and an accomodation service affirmation email which does not seem so much as a plan, but i also have a destination and some plane tickets for one day soon approaching within the next two weeks. so in a frenzy that, embarassinlgy started from watching gossip girl (good grace! what the fuck was i thinking? ), i must add completly accidentally on the tv, i began covetting the legendary Ivy League (here i do not need to be afraid of capitals because, we might just as well be talking about the Gods themselves). So, here is what i thought. 4 years in Glasgow uni, until 22 y.o.a., then 1 year Courtauld Institute until 23, and then migrating to Yale or Princeton until 26 or something. Right? well, beside the apparent weaknesses of this diabolical scheme, such as who is gonna work their ass off for me while i sit on my ass reading books all day and acquiring the one badass degree after the other, there are other more intricate details that need to be sorted out. one very significant would for example be, what the fuck am i even going to study as postgraduate subject. i mean, okay, pick one, history of art, psychology, anthropology, psychiatry, sociology, journalism or creative writing? and yes, it is perfectly possible that i am infatuated with all those disciplines, but nevertheless a logistic problem. which, by the way i have no energy to resolve now, my only intention was just nagging a little while until reaching the unavoidable realization of the bullshity nature of my problems. not to even mention my anxiety outburst that involve me waking everybody naive enough to feel safe sleeping in the same house as me up asking whether they think i have read enough books so that i would be as smart as or smarter than the rest of my class in university.


today is supposed to be the hottest day of the month. in Greece standards this mean 40 degrees and over.
lovely.
i wanted to jogg today but my mum thought i would die and started arguing about it in the most not-sensible way until i gave up and said i'll go tomorrow.
one other thing my mum likes to disagree with me for in the most illogical way these days is my future plans for my right eyebrow. well, not so 'future', otherwise she wouldn't bother putting up a fight just yet. see, i have no room left in my ears to pierce so i started focusing my attention in my face and when i say face, i only mean my eyebrows cause i don't really like it anywhere else. like, nowhere else. you know what i am thinking, the land down under and shit. no way man.just no way.
so, now my mum and my brother fear i might turn into a freak and possibly won't look at my face straight again, just like you avoid the rays of the annoying sun turning your sight sideways. imagine what they'd do if i actually pierced the other thing, or things.you know. god, change of topice, please.


i don't think i have anything else. mighty heavens, i might just have finally run out of neuroses for the day.
(well, that's quite impossible but lets pretend that it is true.)
i am going to try to turn my blood into coffee. see if that'll keep me awake for awhile longer.

really?

like a bunny on meth

so
i am transferring my ideas into a new, narrower, space. my laptop's hard drive.
and my pacing habits unto a narrower floor, across the continent.
running away or towards everything?

i dreamt someone called me fat.and went and did something stupid. well, not stupid. it has not evolved thus yet.
but it will. i mean, it should. i talked to the wrong person about my soul and now, naturally, it lies with him until the end of the month.
i don't even know what i am talking about.

is it silly for me to take with me a little bag with stones from all over Greece inside?
i think it is. god, we are all so screwed up, right?

you shouldn't talk that much about suicide, you might start bleeding automaticaly