How shall I begin? This is supposed to be some sort of literary outburst in which I will bare my soul to you. On the other hand folks what utter conceit on my part to assume that you will want to read a lot of rubbish about me. But nothing else that I might write comes to mind.
We partly see ourselves through the eyes of others around us. The thing which stays in my mind of all the things that people have said about me is that I am different from others somehow. A vital characteristic which makes me what I am for better or for worse is my daydreaming habit. In my world of fantasy I live like I have never lived or will live in real life. Though I want desperately to be the self that I am in my dream world, I never quite manage this. Only a shadow of that self comes through to real life.
Now I am going to talk about two subjects that seem vital to us at this particular age group. One of them is "THE OPPOSITE SEX"
I find the opposite sex adorable. My only grievance against them, is that they don't pay me sufficient attention. The opposite sex has motivated me in accomplishing most things that I have ever accomplished in my life. In other words, it is to impress them that I do most things.
Let's talk about the other subject which is love. According to me, love is an aching tender feeling with a certain sadness underlying it I don't know may be that's only a facet of love. But for me it is the definition of love. And in my opinion it is this feeling which is rare. Good looks,the thrill, the excitement of being with a good looking person, those are wonderful things. But they are all too easily found (much less easily by some of us than most) However once you got this sad, tender, aching feeling about a fellow, you simply don't care if he is well educated, got a job, speaks good English or any of that crap.
I am of the opinion that I rather wasted away the best part of my youth. I sort of sleepwalked through my teens. How I wish that I would get back my teens so that I can live, really live through them in the truest sense of the word 'live' and not just sleep walk. Fading into the woodwork was something I did rather well in those days. I used to watch what went on all around, what other teenagers did from my vantage point in the woodwork and feel miserable. Wanting to take part in the action but never quite making it out of the woodwork.
Even now I sometimes feel the pull of the woodwork; it's horribly tempting voice tells me to stop my pathetic attempts to be like all the clever, beautiful, superior people around me, not to try to get into the limelight of the drama which is life. I do my best not to listen
One of my favourite fantasies is some divine entity appearing before me and granting me a wish. I would ask to be fifteen again and have my ageing process halted right there.
Talking of fantasies, here's one. This was triggered by some incident which happened to me recently.
Boy stares at girl. Girl goes over to him and the following dialog follows.
Girl- Why are you staring at me? I like the way you stare. Normally I like males staring at me, no matter how they stare. But I specially like your stare. It's half amused, half serious and so intense.
Boy - I was staring because you are wonderful. Funny
Girl - Is that so?
Boy - Do you have a boyfriend?
Girl - Two as a matter of fact. Want to be the third?
Boy- (Smiles uncertainly)
Girl - I am not joking
Boy - I want you
Girl - I think you will get what you want, provided you understand that if others want me they will get me too.
Boy - You are joking right?
Girl - No, I believe that if someone wants you and you want him, you should let him get you. Doesn't matter how many people have already got you. You could call it my policy.
Boy - Who are those people who have already got you?
Girl - None of your business. Let's talk about us.
I like reading novels. At one time of my life, I was almost a novel addict. I have got such a wealth of experience (albeit secondhand), most of my role models, some of my values and the basics of my moral code (which is very questionable according to most people) directly out of the novels I have been reading. I did not and do not like what goes on in most Sinhala novels. The playing down of the female characters, the one way moral codes which the writers seemed to insist only the female characters should adhere to, the absolute lack of potency in any female character, the absence of female characters that I could admire, sympathise with; in short me and the writers not being on the same wavelength. All that put me off Sinhala novels from a very early age. So almost all my reading consists of English novels. My favourite novelist is Stephen King, who writes horror stories. I have come across books both hateful and lovely in my novel consuming process. There's one such hateful type the writers of which must surely be sadomasochists. In those the heroine is kissed bruisingly on the lips, undressed by force, slapped and done everything short of rape by the hero. In one such novel the hero even gives the heroine a beating, which according to the writer is a very romantic thing; because immediately after the beating the hero and the heroine manage to resolve all their differences.
(An undisclosable number of years after writing this : How absolutely and entertainingly naive I was those days !)
There are more categories of hateful books. But I don't like elaborating on them all. The best novels I read had underdogs like me as their heroes and heroines; people who are unsure of themselves, worry constantly how they appear to others, are nervous, who observe golden, confident and beautiful people from afar and resolve to be like them and who actually succeed in most cases.
Now here's another fantasy just to break the tedium. This is an extension of the previous one. The girl and the boy are having a discussion about dress.
Boy - What is your aim in wearing things like these?
Girl - (Listlessly) Attracting the males, appealing to them.
Boy - Now I am a male or at least I think so. So why don't I find that dress particularly appealing?
Girl - Don't worry about that. No need to change your previous evaluation of your malehood just because you don't find this appealing. You see there are males and there are males.
Boy - I almost feel sorry for you, the way people laugh at you.
Girl- You are right. People laugh at me. The real men can never have any other feeling for me than sarcasm. Those finer feelings like love, desire,genuine liking, admiration, those are reserved for other women. I admit all that. I sure hope that makes you feel better, because your wellbeing is my most genuine concern. Or would you like me to admit a few more things too? Like I am a slut, I look the part in dresses I wear and I lack any decency? If you think of some more items to add to the list, please let me know. I'll admit to them too.
Boy - Admitting these things aren't enough. If you care about my wellbeing you should try to change those things.
Girl- Once a slut, always a slut. Admitting is the best I can do. I don't want to change things. I like the way I am, proud of it in fact. I think other women should follow my example too. Now why don't you just close your cute lips over your cute teeth and stay that way for the rest of the day?
Boy - Such anger! Do I have cute lips?
Girl- Sure.
Boy - Come here my love.
Curtain
