Expectation

This was a topic suggested to me by my wise and wonderful friend. And it got me thinking. 
We all have expectations, and, let's face it, most of the time we don't live up to the expectations we so often have. 


Right now, there are two sorts of expectations, those that we find in the world around us, those we see in people, and those that we see in ourselves. Whoops, that's three. 


The expectation we see in the world around us is, from what I understand, when we expect things to go our way.
With ourselves, the best example that I can think of is in relation to academia. You might expect yourself to get straight As with all your subjects ( although conversely, one might have very low expectations, and expect to fail everything). 
Yet it is with other people that I thin we have the highest rate of failure in terms of them meeting our expectations. 
Often, when we look at others, after labeling them (which, let's admit it, we all do), after deciding how we shall categorise them, we then accordingly place expectations on them. Which more often then not, they do not necessarily live up to. It is on this that I would like to talk a little. 
I think this is partially the reason why the majority of relationships do not work out.
I have often reflected that when you first get to know somebody, they are a perfect person, because of the potential that they have. You do not yet know them, and therefore they are full of potential to be everything you think they could, or rather, should, be. 
Particularly in a romantic relationship, everything goes downhill from there. Every fault is revealed, every character flaw is slowly exposed. I have found that what once seemed compatible, turns out not to be. 
And the reason is, because I expected this person to be a number of things. And they are not. 
Similarly, people fall into the trap of constructing an 'ideal' partner. The problem with this, is that it simply leads to one carrying a mental checklist. When somebody does not match up to this checklist of 'requirements', they cannot meet the requirement. 

I think the point that I'm trying to make, is that we call go around with the expectations of how other people will act, how the world should be, and in the end, these expectations are more often than not, unmet. Sometimes, they are though. And I find it is with friends. It is my friend's (not the one who suggested the topic) 18th birthday today. I think there is no better way to explain how she has so exceeded any possible expectation that I could have had for her as a person, and as a friend than what I said to her just now: 'I'd move oceans for you'. The thing is, it's true. 


This brings to mind a wonderful saying (I'm starting to think I have a thing for sayings and quotes). While the word is 'plan' instead of 'expect', I think that it has effectively the same meaning in this situation: 

Sometimes things don't turn out the way you plan...they turn out better. 

Ultimately, the scope of your expectations can only factor in so much. Yes, 99.9999999%  of relationships will not work out, and I believe that underlying that is because expectations simply could not be met, but then things do work out, and beyond your wildest dreams. If someone would have told me, one year ago, who I  would now unthinkingly nominate as the three people in the world who I hold in the highest esteem, I would have told them that they were being ridiculous. But knowing them, they are, in my eyes, beyond anything that I could possibly ever hope for in people, and friends. And all three of them have been mentioned in my blog (clearly the highest form of recognition, and everybody's life goal). 

I will leave with only one final comment. Sometimes, not expecting anything can create the most amazing results.

Confrontation

I think most of us are scared of confrontation in one form of another.
There is the confrontation of fears (eg spiders), and confrontation of other people. To me, these are the main types of confrontation that we are humans face, and are terrified of.


With phobias and (relatively) inanimate things, or rather, concepts, it is easy to understand this desire to avoid confrontation. Spiders was the example I used earlier, so let me continue with that. Spiders are creepy, let's just face it. They scuttle along with their ridiculous number of legs, close to the ground with their hairy bodies, and there are many which are poisonous. Say there is an ugly black spider in your house, leering at you from the walls. Would you want to touch it? I think not. This is why, dear readers, when a spider (or even a creepy-ass cockroach) scoots along into my line of view, I hop as far away from it as possible, calling for whoever is in the house with me (usually my Mum) to come kill it. True story. If there is nobody in the house, I will leave. And when I return, I like to pretend that it left my house.
Perhaps a slightly more substantial example is the fear of failure. Many people (and I do realise I am generalising) will not attempt something if they think they will not be able to achieve it. I was in this position. All of my life, I have been well, rather bad at drawing. I had accepted this and moved on. For this reason, I shied away from the elective of art at school, as I knew that I simply could not achieve the outcome that I wanted.  However, two years ago, when the time came for me to choose my subjects for year 11, due to a number of factors, I ended up choosing art as one of my subjects. And it has become my favourite subject. Dare I even suggest it, I'm quite good at it.
Had I never tried it, I never would have found something I love so much.


But confronting people is a far more difficult task. People are less predictable, and there are entire social circles to be factored in when confronting a person, or the actions of a person.
I have mentioned it twice so far, this accusation leveled at me indirectly through the medium of...Facebook. After the apology that was offered (and accepted), which I wrote (what I hope was a touching and moving) blog about, I thought it was the end of it. However now, something else came up, and while names have not been mentioned, the veil is thin, if not non-existent. The phrase 'being used' was again, bandied around. I do not view this as confrontation. Rather, I think it is a way to side-step the issue of confrontation. I would have appreciated it far more, and found it a much better display of character on the part of this person, had they come straight out to me and said 'I feel like you used me'. But alas, no.
Readers, the point which I am making here is very simple. Sitting and feeling angry or upset at someone for something they did is all good and well, but confronting the issue, going up to them and actually saying 'this is why I am upset' is so much more brave, and so much more productive. I think this is why general 'bitching' exists, because people, rather than confronting a person about something which frustrates them, instead go to others to let this opinion be heard. Granted, it is the easy option, but in the long run, I don't think anybody really respects people who bitch.


Not only that, but life does not reward people who simply sit and feel. There are only ever results if you actively go out and do something. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
And wouldn't you rather try and fail at something than never have tried? Don't tell me that yes, you would rather simply have. I won't hear it.

Love

So this post was going to be completely different (same theme, different everything else), but as they say 'shit went down' at my house tonight, that made me a) completely unmotivated to finish revising what I had just written, and b) really, really hate what I had just wrote.


Love. One of my friends rather eloquently (although she would beg to differ) wrote a blog on the imprecision of the english language, and its use of love. For there are many different forms of love, and only one broad term. But how does this relate to the 'shit that went down'?

Here is what happened: 
Year 12 is a notorious year for many reasons. One of them (particularly for females) is weight gain. My mother, out of some misguided love noticed my weight gain within recent weeks, and decided that in order to 'help' me, she would make me losing weight her personal crusade. Never mind the gentle, and not-so-gentle suggestions from myself and my grandmother (who I love beyond words), that this was possibly not the best time for her to begin this mission. The reason for why the timing is so astronomically bad is thus: I love food. I truly do. There are probably several underlying reasons aside from the fact that it just tastes amazing, not the least of which was discovered in a conversation I had with my friend (questioned as to why I loved food so much, I responded with, 'it is a constant'). So. I like food. Food is my go-to, when I am stressed...see where I'm heading here? Year 12, is high stress. 
My mother, constantly telling me that I need to watch my weight, is not conducive to a less-stressful working environment in the six weeks or so leading up to my final exams (oh god).
So, back to the story. 
Tonight culminated in me getting really, really worked up at my mother, after she got me to try on some clothes for a particular occasion. They were her old clothes, from when she was disgustingly thin (ie before childbirth and the dreaded middle aged spread that widens the hips etc etc etc). Needless to say, they were not the best of fit, and not only did it contribute to my ever-dwindling self-esteem, it got me thinking about this weight-loss crusade. And I made that decision to get angry.
I think the worst part about this, is that my mother honestly believes that she is doing what is right for me, that she is helping me (when in fact, as my friend so eloquently put it, she is systematically eroding my self confidence). It's like the religious fanatics who send their son off to un-gay camp, telling their gay son that he is leading a wrong lifestyle (ok, so perhaps slightly extreme example here, but you get what I mean). They love their child, and they honestly don't want their son to go to hell. My mother loves me, and she has decided that this is the way that will help me best. She is wrong. 


I managed to drive my mother out of the house, I was so worked up and borderline aggressive. So I sat down and had a little cry for a minute, and then I called up my Grandmother, because I needed someone to talk to, and basically, tell me that it would be ok. God I love my grandmother. She is the epitome of elegance and love.
Then I started talking to my two best friends. Both of them were simply there for me, each in their own ways. And their love meant so much.
Without these three people, I would have probably been hysterically curled up in a corner sobbing, when my mother returned. As it was, I was far more collected, although when I tried to explain to her why I was so upset, it didn't quite get through. She doesn't get it, yet she honestly believes that she is trying to do what is best for me. Needless to say, she went to bed, and I am here, calming myself down (again). 
But this outpouring of love from my friends, it is something that literally, was like a blanket enfolding me, letting me know that, yeah, I could deal with this, and get back to that study! 
To illustrate my point: 
 Z: is there anything i can do?

 me: just keep talking to me :)

 Z: okay, if you want me to do anything other than talk to you let me know :)

and: 

A You are beautiful and lovely and not fat. I will not allow you to sink into apathy and/or despair

I hope they know how much I love them.

Now. My original point. 

How many times was love used in my above story? 

And how many meanings did it have when relating to the type of love expressed? 

Now think of love, just on its own. When you, dear reader, read the title of my post, you probably (and kudos if you didn't), thought it was going to at least make some mention of romantic love. 

And did it? 

See what I'm getting at?

Alone

I thought long about what to write. I felt what I wrote today had to be of a high standard because of a comment on my last post left by someone who I have never met (I think), and who I don't know. Yet they commented because something in my post compelled them to. I like to think it was my beautifully crafted paragraphs, each sentence a work of art in its own right. I am slightly more realistic than this though. 
Somewhat ironically though, this gave me the inspiration for today's post. 


We are, as humans, quite alone. 


In the twenty-first century, we have the internet, mobile phones, land lines, social networking sites, blogs, all creating a 'communication network' that means we can interact with each other, post our very souls up for the whole world to see should we so choose it. Yet in some ways, we have never been more isolated. 
Look around you the next time you are on public transport. Everybody is tucked away in their own little world, a barrier around them, constructed from the music they plug their ears up with, the phones they hold in front of their faces so nobody would dare interrupt them, even the books they bury their noses in (although I'm inclined to say books are the least "go away" of all of these).
I think in many respects, technology has exacerbated this phenomenon of shutting us off. We may be able to communicate with someone (or many people) over a chat medium, or put up every detail of our lives on facebook, but because of that lack of person to person contact, these tools of 'communication' simply become means to distance ourselves from the rest of humanity. We are more closed off than ever. 




I think perhaps this is because, at some core level, we are afraid of each other. Afraid of what rejection others might level at us. I think the perfect example of this was today, when I was at a French revision course (which is actually the wrong course that school enrolled us in). The other three girls in my class were also there, along with eight other students. Everybody stuck tightly to whom they knew, reluctant to attempt to enter into a conversation with strangers. And it struck me that the reason why is because we were all afraid of being rejected, being told that we were not 'up to scratch'. 

I often find it interesting to see that so few people smile at each other. I try to make it a point that if I catch the eye of a stranger, I smile at them. Costs me nothing, and I often get a smile in return, which makes me feel happy. 


This was what surprised (and delighted) me most about the comment left by this stranger yesterday. There was no need for him to write to tell me he had read my blog (and I hope appreciated it), yet he did. It was so unexpected.


I suppose what I'm trying to say is that reaching out every now and again to a stranger, to say something, to even simply smile at them. Because there's something horribly lonely about our society today, something sterile. 


Now I'm going to watch a french film about someone pretending to be gay in order to keep his job.

Forgiveness

So I'm back. Yay. I know life without my posts was dull and dreary (at least for a certain person who cheerfully informed me I was now aiding them procrastinate from study). Away time was lovely, I indeed did a lot of work (finally something productive study-wise), and i went bushwalking. I briefly contemplated dedicating a blog to how during one of my walks I attempted to channel my inner aboriginal to do a little climbing over a stream, but really that's as much as I need to say. It was a successful channeling in case you were wondering.


I thought a lot about what my next blog should be about (I had lots of thinking time), but events seemed to have unfolded for themselves. 


As those of you clever enough to deduce from my rather cryptic title, forgiveness has been preying on my mind of late. Personally there have been a couple of events which have led me to become estranged with friends. One in particular whom I am thinking of right now. I shan't go into the details, but let me say that communication basically broke down, and a divide between us grew, and we went from being quite close friends to people who simply did not speak to each other any more. I had said to myself 'I suppose this is the way it's going to be', I could see no way for the friendship to be rebuilt, and then, out of the blue, I got a call from this person. They explained to me what had been happening with them and told me how much the loss of my friendship had upset them. Things which had been done which upset me were brought to the surface, where previously they had been swept under the rug and festered, further destroying the friendship, and apologies were offered. Of course, that was all I really needed. It was such an incredible gesture on her part, to call me after so much had happened, and to try to fix this. 

Similarly, today, I received an apology of sorts for something that was done to me  a few days ago, an event in fact, mentioned in my first post (Facebook statuses, indirect accusations, to jog your memory). Now this person I do not have as long a history with, so such mending of bridges is not as easy. 


In both of these scenarios I had the choice to forgive. The option was there to tell them where they could stick it, although depending on my level of ire, with several verbally colourful additions. I was seriously considering it with the second apology, however I was talking to my friend, someone who I hold in the highest esteem, and he said a wonderful thing to me. "Princess [this is his pet name for me]. Remember Audrey Hepburn. Be gracious."
Wasn't it somebody terribly famous who said once, and is forever quoted for it, 'to err is human, to forgive, divine'? 


I suppose the point that I am trying to make is that there is nothing ever really gained from witholding your forgiveness. It doesn't necessarily mean the same level of trust or intimacy has to be reached as previously, but, aside from everything else, doesn't that make you the better human being? I know several people who are not speaking to others because of transgressions or conflicts. While I understand that sometimes there are things that mean a friendship cannot be rebuilt, I would suggest that leaving something like that on such hugely negative grounds can affect you as a person. It is there, always lingering in the back of your mind. I could be wrong, it is possibly just me. But I do think it is something to think about. 


This is the lesson for today. Go in peace. 

So I've sunk this low, and other introductory matters

So this is what is has come to. At 9.59pm on a Thursday night - the Thursday before I go away for a couple of days, might I add, in the depths of my loneliness and desperation to avoid schoolwork, I have started a blog.

It is also probably no coincidence that I have started a blog as I come up to my final exams (dear God help me). 

So tonight, I think I shall address three points, no more, no less (this is a debating trick I'm trying to learn for semi-finals, so I do apologise if it seems a touch pretentious). The first, why blog? The second, the title, and the the third...well I'm not quite sure, but I'm sure I'll find a third point (if you're interested, this is generally how I get up with my points as well...hence why I need to learn the technique). 

So, why blog? Well, I guess what was preying on my mind tonight was an accusation I'm fairly certain was leveled at me, albeit indirectly (facebook status if you must know...I'm sure I'll get to my view of facebook, which I fully understand if you choose to skip over it in another post). I thought to myself 'hey, starting a blog would be a great way to present my roundabout response to this'. And then I thought to myself 'don't be a wanker'.  So why did I go ahead with it? Somewhere in some dark corner of my mind there was probably the vague hope that my fascinating, insightful, and masterfully written blog would be an internet sensation, and I would make an obscene amount of money out of it. Don't worry, I realise this will never happen...I think. Possibly my other reason was that I could do something other than study, which certainly would be welcomed, because the only other thing I have done, is music, oh, and watch ridiculous amounts of television, some highly intellectual (Mad Men), some quite trashy (Vampire Diaries, how I love it).

Secondly, why the title I hear you ask. Ok, I don't, and you probably never will, but I'm going to pretend it crossed your mind, and answer your question. I have been playing music since I was the tender age of three (and what a gorgeous three year old I was, everything went downhill from there). It has always been a part of my life, and several things have recently happened to me in a musical sense, that have made me realise what a huge part of my life it is. I decided to audition for Opera Victoria in November, a snap decision after singing (and, oh joy, being paid for it) for someone to. Singing is something that comes so naturally to me that I think I take it for granted, so perhaps it is an avenue I should explore. But I digress. Aside from singing and violin, there is the piano, to which I have returned since I started hard-core (or medium-core really) study, finding it a place all of my own to go to escape the world of academia. On top of this, I have noticed increasingly the way I tend to analyse music to which I am listening. Therefore, the only conclusion I can come to...music nerd. I know all the terms, I have perfect relative pitch (not that I'm bragging), and while I am the first to admit that there are many, many people who are far more advanced in music than I, I know a lot. 

Ok I don't have a third point, and I just realised this is probably longer than necessary (and what you are willing to read). So I think I shall simply make my third point this: I know some truly incredible people. I don't see any of them nearly often enough, and I truly regret this, as within all of them are qualities I admire so deeply. I shan't name names (and I refuse to use codenames in this blog), but I like to think that they know who they are. If you aren't sure, ask me, although be warned, I shall be brutally honest (sorry if you don't rank :P). These are the people who have touched my life, and who I don't tell enough (sometimes because I don't think they could handle the emotional intensity that accompanies this - you know who I'm talking about) how special they are, how much they mean to me, or how utterly screwed I'd be without them. So if you are reading this, and you know you rank among them, thank you. 

So on that rather emotionally charged note, I shall finish writing, mess around with the blog template some more, and then prepare myself for a few days away...with the bigass stack of study that I have packed. My life is so awesome right now. Thank you for bearing through this first post, I promise to make subsequent ones shorter (or if the same length, completely enthralling). Get ready for some exciting posting upon my return, about the amount of study I got done. You know it will rock your world. 

Here ends the reading.