When left all by myself, my brain goes into hyper-drive — a by-product of being intra-personal for half of my existence so far — I get so down into the whole introspection, over-analyzing situations sometimes. (Yes… I’m self-critical too, and it’s a habit that I’ve been trying to wean myself from for decades.)
When I’m in the “zone”, I think up the most silliest and sometimes the most damning existential thoughts (and questions) that can go on for thousands of years. And one of them is:If time is constant and everything changes, how come history repeats itself?
Yes, it’s almost Christmas and it’s funny what gift wrappers can evoke in a meandering mind like mine. Just by looking at them whilst wrapping a few, all the pretty colors and repetitive print spell out J-O-L-L-L-Y and all that just make my heart smile even a little. But sometimes, pretty wrappers hide a not so pretty gift. Sometimes, it’s even recycled — not that I’m recyclinggifts, mind you (I know people who do) — and receiving a fugly-assed ashtray when I don’t smoke sucks.
So, the whole wrapping deed begs the question: have you ever caught yourself trying to psyche yourself up and telling yourself, “it’s going to be fine” or “it’s easy” in the face of a challenge you’d rather not get entangled with? Just like the pretty wrapping paper (that will inevitably get torn in the process) taped around the not-so-pretty object within, camouflaging the truth inside.
I recently read somewhere that according to studies, those who cuss (or have potty mouths) are considered to be honest people. When they put it like that with the words “according to scientific studies” attached, one would take it in as fact.
But what if the person in question just grew up in a barbaric environment where cussing is as normal as breathing? Is everyone in that potty environment considered as honest people?
There are different factors to be considered in tagging people as honest or not. But one thing’s for sure, when in the heat of battle (or any situation that stimulates intense emotions), a person who will just light up and curse with utter conviction “may” be certified as honest. But for someone who alternates “f*ck” with every word in a sentence, it doesn’t necessarily mean that that person is honest — at all.
When someone asks me to describe myself, I get tongue-tied and can’t even string words together to form a coherent statement. Maybe because I’m battling between telling that someone what’s in my resume or the more definitive me; the former is a bit awkward, of course, since I feel like I’m having a job interview and the latter more so because — for the life of me — I am at a loss for words. The whole inner thing makes it difficult to put into words.
I can wax poetry about other people; can even list down in bullet points their strengths and weakness. But when it comes to me, I can’t figure out a way to make the description sound less obnoxious and awkward. If I list down a lot of the positives, that makes me conceited. If I give out weaknesses, the alpha in me would raise its dominant head and shriek like a banshee in protest, and I would end up like a blubbering idiot in the process.
Do you sometimes want to tear your hair out when it’s all too quiet?
Being too silent — whether we’re talking about your surroundings or a state of mind (i.e. business deals or waiting for a job offer) — often makes me anxious.
Yes, I do sometimes fall prey to the ever evil “A” complete with sweaty palms and countless pacing around my minute apartment. Thank goodness I don’t live with anyone, otherwise I will drive that person insane along with me.
Anyway, when it’s too silent, I feel a foreboding, ominous cloud hovering over my head; like it’s the calm before a storm or it signals and usher in something that I would not be able to control. When this happens, old bad habits, debilitating self-doubt and all-consuming fears return. The feeling of being powerless is slowly choking me, easing its way into my resolve and eventually rendering me vulnerable and helpless.