Wednesday, December 28, 2011

I asked and asked but Santa never did get me that pony I wanted. So this Christmas I set a bear trap in the fireplace and now I have the best Santa suit ever...

Next Christmas will be just as disappointing, but Halloween will be amazing.

2011: The Pledge

"Every great magic trick consists of three parts or acts. The first part is called 'The Pledge'. The magician shows you something ordinary: a deck of cards, a bird or a man. He shows you this object. Perhaps he asks you to inspect it to see if it is indeed real, unaltered, normal. But of course... it probably isn't. The second act is called 'The Turn'. The magician takes the ordinary something and makes it do something extraordinary. Now you're looking for the secret... but you won't find it, because of course you're not really looking. You don't really want to know. You want to be fooled. But you wouldn't clap yet. Because making something disappear isn't enough; you have to bring it back. That's why every magic trick has a third act, the hardest part, the part we call 'The Prestige'"
Cutter (Michael Caine) - The Prestige (2006) 

I guess I had a lot of things to say about this year. But most of those things I'd like to save for their own individual blog posts. Somehow, the truth always seems prettier when looked at through rose-coloured glasses.

Even though it wasn't intentional (at least, I don't think it was), this year showed me how fallible I am. That I'm not untouchable. That I can be sad. And make mistakes. And give up. And let people down. And for what it's worth, I am sorry.

See, I'm just like you. And everyone else. We are not alone. Let's totally go out for ice-cream sometime!

But it's not all about that. Because life is too short, to be so melancholy. And sometimes, I make the right decisions. And persevere. And reaffirm peoples faith in me. And mostly, I'm happy. 

But let's still go out for ice-cream sometime, because that shit's just awesome.

This year, I proved all of those things. Somehow, this year turned into a 'Pledge' of sorts. I guess through all of this, I've been showing you a man. Inspect if you will, but I am indeed real, unaltered, and normal.

Now it's time for the 'Turn.' Where this magician takes the ordinary something, and makes it do something extraordinary.

This is my resolution for the new year. Or maybe, a kind of resolution for the next few years.

Maybe you'd like to join me. 

Together, we can prove to an unsuspecting public that we can all be something amazing, and special, and extraordinary. And, if only for a moment, we'll make them all wonder, and believe in magic, and that maybe the world isn't as it seems.

We'll stand out on the worlds stage together; ordinary people, who've managed to do something extraordinary. And we'll be those who see something truly beautiful. It'll be the look on their faces..

I love you all, and you are in my heart always. 


Are you watching closely?

Monday, December 5, 2011

Carefully considered.

There's this weird period in time, after a break up, where you go a little bit insane.  Or at least, you go a little insane trying not to be insane. Sort of like when you're caught doing something wrong, then you try to act natural, yet for the life of you, you can't seem to remember what you normally do with your hands when you're being 'natural.'

Things like when you're driving past their house on the way to somewhere (no, not cruising past their house every ten minutes or so, just genuinely on the way to somewhere), you can't help but look, kinda hoping that they'll be out front or something, just so they can see that you're doing just fine.

I think that's what it's about. Putting up a facade that you want them to see.

Like when, a week after a break up, you organise to go and talk to them, just so a few details (why, how, etc.) can be explained a little better.

Sometimes it's better to know those things. Sometimes not.

The preparations for that meeting can get a little calculated. I mean, there's a look you're trying to go for there, and so much you want them to know, just by looking at you.

You want them to know that your life is falling apart a little bit, but that you're doing fine. Or, I suppose, that you will be. What sort of clothes would you be wearing if that was the case? What sort of shoes communicate to a person that you're finding things a bit rough right now? What's the appropriate length of stubble? I mean, sure, you're going to be okay, but do you want her to think that you've got it so together, that you're clean-shaven and looking like you're ready to go out and meet someone else?

So you put more time into thinking about that than any rational person would, and then eventually, you go to have that conversation.

The awkward, usual pleasantries are exchanged, and then you jump right into the important questions. Or at least, the questions that seem important at the time.

"Do you love me?"

And she answers, but it doesn't really matter anyway; and while this is happening your mind is still stuck in the earlier insanity. Was an indie-rock t-shirt really the right decision here? Shit, you're hurting man, not about to go to a gig and rock out.

And she's explaining about the other guy, and you're asking whether she fucked him or what, and she she says that yes, they had sex, and even though this is all important, and you're focused on what's happening, there's that voice in the back of your head that says maybe the walking shoes were appropriate. You want to look like you're ready to move on, but not too fast.

You explain to her; angry, hurt, a little self-righteously, but never raising your voice; that she should probably say anything she feels at this moment, because you're not sure you'll want to speak to her again. And she says nothing, so you tell her goodbye with a finality she might not have heard and you leave. The door closes on her house, and that short chapter of your life, and it makes you feel sad.

And still, that little voice.

"You probably shouldn't have shaved your balls for this."