Fate: A Foe

The idea that events are predestined is an idea that has been around since the dawn of time. It is as old as the discovery of sex and it is as old as the chocolate on my bed. Which, let me tell you, is pretty darn old. Did you know that chocolate dates back to the Aztecs? Cadbury’s World taught me that. Nevertheless, the consequences of this burgeoning desire to blame someone or something else for our circumstances is two fold. You see, on one hand it provides us with an agent to our misery but, on the other hand, it offers us hope and possibility. Recently, I must confess, I have been dancing on  what can only be described as the bridge  between the two. After a series of weeks containing exasperating events the events themselves have started to feel, well, exacerbating. The problem I have is that our elders consistently tell us that “if you want something, you have to go out and get it”, yet in the very same conversations they persistently tell us that “things will come to you with time, you’re only young”. Even our friends will advice us on the very same matters to”see how things go”, to “go with the flow” because, you know, we simply can’t tell that person we like that we actually like them. That would be silly. That would be easy. That would be forward and clingy. So, tell me, how should I be? How should I feel? What should I do? It seems there is an answer for everything yet nothing is synonymous. It appears that currently, as I’m sure a lot of gals and boys are doing in their twenties, I am merely treading water hoping the tides don’t kill me.

Last year I wrote an especially self-searching piece on incompleteness  and the feeling of being lost in the world and, honestly, it was rather odd  reading that piece back. I feel it was comparable to when you give yourself a drunken pep talk on a progressively wild night out. “Listen here pol. You are not a hot mess and you will probably forget that stupid thing you just did- you’re all good”. Strangely, however, just as I am by my intoxicated self I found myself reassured by prior self. I’m actually not a hot mess. In fact, I’m pretty smart. I did forget the silly things I’d done. Veritably, it is the silly things that are the subtle nuances between me and past me.Those silly things forced me to grow, albeit not always in the way I would like, but I’ve grown. Last  year I wrote:

I should be experimenting and going out my way to experience new things or do more of the things I like. I have been going stir-crazy. I need to get out more and go crazy.

And New Me can safely retort “Girl, I have been. I am!”. Undeniably, I don’t always do things that I’m later proud of (this can be seen in my many blog posts) but I do do what makes me happy. I do do more of the things that scare me. Ha. Do do. I’ve clearly grown loads…so why am I feeling so lacklustre? Why do I once again feel incomplete, incoherent and unsuccessful? Because, seriously, the dissatisfaction I feel is not with myself anymore. I’m fine. I am all good. Okay, not all good but, usually, very good and very well behaved. The dissatisfaction I feel is with this fate fella.Which, of course, sounds ludicrous and slightly biblical but I promise it’s not completely. I am just…fed up with fate. So I’m drinking Blue WKD and imagining I’m by a pool in Hawaii.

Monday Blues

Now, let me agree with you adults and confess that “if I want something, I need to go out and get it”. You hear me? I agree! If I want an internship and I want to strive for greatness in my chosen vocation then I need to apply for internships and strive for greatness. Working my life away as a waitress and getting drunk in my remaining spare time won’t fundamentally help- but it’s enjoyable. Likewise, if I want to find a boyfriend and I want to be having regular sex then I should, probably, take more days off and get drunk somewhere that’s not my bedroom…drinking something that is not Blue WKD. Completely agree. Understood. But on the other hand, your other notion is also agreeable “things will come to you with time, you’re only young””see how things go”. Much of the time life experience teaches us a number of things about ourselves. Uncontrollable and unpredictable occurrences unknowingly educate us on what we’re good at, how strong we are and what we want out of the future.It is these unpredictable and uncontrollable occurrences, however, that causes me bother as of late. It is these memes on Facebook reading “J.K Rowling didn’t publish a book until she was 40” that bother me. It is “he clearly isn’t worth it, he’s not for you” comments that bother me. Because, thanks to these reassurances,  I’ve found myself just waiting and waiting for a light bulb to go off in my head. I am waiting to suddenly be granted with the precious creativity or the abstract dream to write the next Harry Potter. To be endowed with the knowledge to do something with my life other than lose things and drink too much. To bump into someone “worth it” whom answers my messages when I will him to. I am waiting. Waiting. I am so tired of waiting.

In terms of career, perhaps I am extremely wrong in believing that that it’s easier for people that know what they want to place themselves on the appropriate paths. After all, what if you’re not good enough for what you want? What if you decide too late about what you want?  We’re not all J.K Rowling. However, one quote by Jim Carrey, has always resided with me. He said “you can fail at what you don’t want so you might as well fail at what you do want” and I think that’s so powerful. I feel to have failed or found you are unable to do the things you wanted is- although awful- is incredibly educational. To float around on this planet not trying to neither succeed nor fail at anything of any worth to your own sense of purpose is mediocre. I suppose that this in itself is educational for different reasons, perhaps these seemingly useless occurrences in our lives are to prepare us for something greater. That’s what we hope. That “fate” has something better lined up for us around the corner. Nevertheless, although I have a year at university left, I can’t help but think that these assignments, these exams, these academic achievements that we fill our time with are just ways of distracting ourselves from the bigger picture, or in any case, give us time to decide on what it is we want to do from here onwards. 9/10, however, we leave university with debt, some jargon and a newborn loss of identity. Understandably, just because we have a degree does not mean we have a calling. We have credentials that may or not fit the mould of our future. We are but a bag of misfits from the Cadbury’s outlet. Distinguished and disturbed. In many ways you could say I’m early to the graduation pity party. Promptness will definitely come in handy later for my big job somewhere doing something for someone. Regardless, the point I’m making here is, going for what you want is hard when you don’t know what you want and you are just waiting to know what you want by doing things you don’t really want but you, kind of, want because it’s doing something. Amma right or amma right? Jim Carrey will make you feel a bit better. Watch watch watch.

The solution to this- besides watch inspirational Jim Carrey vids- would maybe be to travel; to do other enriching things whilst you decide. To grow in other areas of your existence. This solution was what I intended to set in motion before I lost my passport and broke a MacBook Air. Now, despite these two incidents being unequivocally my own fault, they also feel like some other force’s fault. The latter incident occurred because I was attempting to avoid the exact thing that happened. I intended to move the cider to avert spillage on said laptop and in the process I caused spillage on said laptop. Of course I spilled a drink trying not to spill a drink because I am me. I am a klutz. Of course I “lost” my passport because I left it in a taxi that I was sick in because, again, I am me. I am a lightweight and that taxi driver is a liar. But I beg to question, when will I stop being me? Or more specifically, when do I stop obstructing myself? I know that there are many people that feel this way also. The old “woe is me” “I’m so unlucky” reproach. But, these people are genuinely unlucky or, in any case, these people are assuredly being punished for being themselves. These laughable instances start to seem symbolic of a force telling them that being you is not okay. They become pivotal moments in your otherwise boring life. You want to go on holiday and see the world Pol? You want to travel and experience these moments that may or may not help you define yourself no matter how cliche? Nope. Not you. You’re not allowed because you’re a klutz and you don’t deserve a passport. It’s your own fault but it’s not entirely. Accidents happen and they happen to you. They happen to everyone. Although sometimes just sometimes timing is everything and that, my friends, is fate. I f**king hate fate.

So, you don’t have much ambition as of yet and you don’t have the means to travel. Maybe you can sort out your love life? Make the wait more pleasurable. Winky Face. Like, where the actual s**t do I start with this one? The modern dating world gets more infuriating with every year, the platforms to get rejected on increases every month and my tolerance for the whole thing diminishes a little everyday. Of course, the dating world is different for everyone and not everyone wants the same thing. Some want casual, some want commitment and some want an in between. Okay, cool. Cool. So, how do we know what a prospective partner wants? Erm…does anyone know? I mean, do people even mean what they say these days? “I’m not looking for anything serious”…3 months later said person is in a relationship. “I love my girlfriend”… said person is in bed with someone else 2 weeks later. “I don’t want a boyfriend but I want us to be exclusive”. Like, what? With the “seeing eachother” “getting to know each other” “shagging each other” “talking to each other” phase stretching for as long as the eye can see, it’s hard to know when you’re investing in something or simply wasting your time. Frankly, often it feels like I’m half-heartedly playing a game I’m destined to lose. Even when things are going well are they really going well? What if he swipes right to a better, more interesting girl? What if he likes this other girl more? What if he doesn’t reply? What if. What if. What if. These what if’s are paramount to the paranoia that builds upon real experiences made with real ghosts. “Ghosting” is the fear in every romantic venture. Now you see me and now you…

I don’t want to allude you into thinking that I don’t try. I do try. I try in ways many girls would be too fearful to exercise. Take for instance my recent encounter with a handsome waiter. Upon feeling chemistry with my aforementioned server I left my number on the table. A number that he later messaged extensively for several days. He asked me for drinks and, as any girl would, I got particularly excited…until he didn’t reply. Now, I know I am prone to doing things wrong but on this occasion, I vouch that I did no wrong. I can see no wrong. We were getting on. It felt different. It seemed so so different yet, it wasn’t. For whatever reason “it wasn’t meant to be” and, you know, these things happen. He was not my first ghost and he won’t be my last but, somehow, these experiences set precedents that are hard to overcome or rationalize. It makes me feel as if it’s not even up to either of the parties involved whether the relationship makes the cut. I could do everything “right”, I could receive all the “right” responses yet still come up short. It’s like finding the perfect dress on sale and finding out at the till it’s full price because someone somewhere wanted to fool me. It’s not my fault, it’s maybe not even the person who misplaced the labels fault but it still sucks. It sucks to be denied the emotions you have never felt or, at least, felt with infrequency. Excitement. Love. Surprise.

So much excitement and love in just one photo.

This all seems very dramatic but what it comes down to is the inability to just be. It is a well known fact that different people bring out different sides in you and me. Yes, I’m rhyming. Well noticed. This is because we feel we have to behave in a particular way to gain prestige. These days everyone has so many options. You can like different people for so many different reasons and you can meet them in so many different ways. Next to no one wants to commit. You don’t want to get yourself in a relationship because what if the next guy you meet is better than the last? In a weird way, our options are, in fact, limiting. In a weirder way we’re all in a perverse poly-amorous relationship with each other. Ew. It’s  disheartening. At least, I think so. You see, if I’m being all these different things to all these different people when can I just be me and stop carefully tip-toeing around “the meaning”? Or at least ,when can I be just me to just one person for whatever amount of time?  I’ve found that once you’ve set the parameters it’s hard to break out of them. Take for instance someone I’m “talking” to at the minute. We talk most nights, we get on most nights and we get along fine when we see each other. Yet, I find that I can’t be myself, not necessarily because of him but because of these barriers I’ve set for myself. If I’m too affectionate he’ll think I’m keen. If I send this message he won’t reply. If I’m a bitch he’ll think I’m a bitch. Thus, some nights I’m on the border; I can be myself for a moment and then in the same minute I urge myself to be cool and uncaring. It’s hard work. It’s sometimes infuriating. I don’t know when I’m being desired or being entertained and I, equally, can’t decide on whether I like him as much as I think or whether I like the possibilities he presents. So, I talk to other people. He talks to other people. I assume we explore these very same emotions with other people. But, I don’t really like being an option and I don’t really like seeing guys as options, it’s demeaning. I feel demeaned. So, what is this I’m even doing? Well, I’m going with the flow. Like everyone else, I am just waiting for a sign from someone. I wait to feel something that doesn’t get confused and clouded the next day. I am begging to know when people are “worth it”, but I don’t think you ever can, because for so many reasons it’s really not your decision. It’s the alignment of various thoughts, moments and people. It’s just life. Just letting each other know we’re here, reminding each other that we are part of a larger self. S**t just got deep coz she wishes someone would go deep. Ey ey. lol lol.

So many of us choose our path out of fear disguised as practicality. What we really want seems impossibly out of reach and ridiculous to expect, so we never dare to ask the universe for it. – Jim Carrey

Despite all the above due to my rubbish last month, fate has also brought me many things that I am grateful for. Fate constantly brings me things that make the asking for texts, meaning and money worth it. It has shown me in abundance that life doesn’t have to be planned, in fact, the distinctly unplanned stuff can be best. It would be a grave misunderstanding to think that life is anything less than unpredictable. It would be an even more sinister misconception to think that life has to be set and outlined for the entirety of your existence. Fate is what keeps the intrigue and our eyes to the sky. It has brought me housemates that tick all the requirements to manage me. Aka they buy me Blue WKD and Kinder Buenos when I’m having a crap day. It has brought me an exciting week with a handsome waiter (well done me for trying and always trying) and it has brought me valuable valuable friends that don’t get mad at me when I spill cider on their laptops…

…or Blue WKD on their bed sheets. My bad.