Idiosyncratic.: Note to self.

5/10/2010

Note to self.

Step 1. Tell the truth.
Step 2. Try to stop pretending.
Step 3. See what happens..

5 comments:

Anonymous11 May 2010 at 19:28
Don't kid yourself Mary, you could never "stop pretending". It's part of your nature to lie and manipulate.
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LLG13 May 2010 at 19:11
Yeah, it is :)
that's why it says try ^ observe.
actually it's easy to tell the truth, I only don't out of tact, but tact, to everyone has different levels, so where someones tact is very tactful, some peoples tact, gets people hurt. If you get me.
So really, you're saying I'm tactful. Thankyou, yet I realise, perhaps being tactful is to protect too much, when you miscalculate how much people can handle, and such tactfulness is maybe misleading.
Also, there are those who I don't pretend to, because I know they won't judge me. And those kinds of people are few and far between.
You yourself *seem* quite judgemental, and it is those kinds of people who spur me to lie and pretend more.
I may not 'conform' in the full sense of the word, but to an extent, to strangers, i do. I act 'normal' because people judge when you first meet.

Some people judge before you have even met.

It is those kinds of people, who made me lie and made me pretend. Because pretending, you can make up anything, you can be safe, and like a child, you can pretend enough to make something dangerous, someone threatening, fun.
And when you lie, you can pretend you never pretended.
Consider with your comment, whether you've pushed me more towards wanting to pretend, and be safe, retreating into a shell, or stop.

Being nice makes a tortoise pop out.
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Davies13 May 2010 at 21:14
Mary I think you're one of the nicest and best people I know. I think YOU make tortoises come out.
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Anonymous17 May 2010 at 09:33
Judgemental? I've known you for quite a while so I would assume that I'm allowed some sort of opinion on what kind of friend I think you are?

I was always compeltely honest and open with you and in return I got it thrown back in my face as you manipulated and lied- oh, wait, I'm sorry, were 'tactful'.

Here's something to try - understanding who likes you for who you are and then not punishing them for it.
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LLG17 May 2010 at 10:56
Maybe, I love you.
Maybe I always manipulated and lied because *I* know that I'm not all good, but I know that I can accept my faults. I don't know if other people would.
So when I lie, and play games, I can hide all that bad stuff, and I can keep you forever and ever because I love you and I'm shellfish.
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The boy and his falcon - One of my favourite stories.

Once there was a boy.
When the boy was six years old, his father gave him a falcon to train.
Falcons are raptors - killing birds, his father told him, hunters of the sky.
The falcon didnt like the boy, and the boy didnt like it either.
Its sharp beak made him nervous, and its bright eyes always seemed to be watching him.
It would slash at him with its beak and talons when he came near: For weeks his wrists and hands were bleeding.
He didnt know it, but his father had selected a falcon that had lived in the wild for over a year, and thus nearly impossible to tame.
But the boy tried, because his father had told him to make the falcon obedient, and he wanted to please his father. He stayed with the falcon constantly, keeping it awake by talking to it and even playing music to it, because a tired bird meant it was easier to tame.
He learned the equipment, the jesses, the hood, the brail, the leash that bound the bird to his wrist.
He was meant to keep the falcon blind, but he couldnt bring himself to do it - instead he tried to sit where the bird could see him as he touched and stroked its wings, willing it to trust him.
He fed it from his hand, and at first it would not eat. Later, it ate so savagely that its beak cut the skin of his palm. But the boy was glad, because it was progress, and because he wanted the bird to know him, even if the bird had to consume his blood to make that happen.
He began to see that the falcon was beautiful, that its slim wings were built for speed of flight, that it was strong and swift, fierce and gentle. When it dived to the ground, it moved like light. When it learned to circle and come to his wrist, he nearly shouted with delight.
Sometimes the bird would hop onto his shoulder and put its beak in his hair. He knew his falcon loved him, and when he was certain it was not just tamed, but perfectly tamed, he went to his father and showed him what hed done, expecting him to be proud.
Instead, his father took the bird, now tame and trusting, in his hands, and broke its neck.
I told you to make it obedient, his father said and dropped the birds lifeless body to the ground. Instead, you taught it to love you. Falcons are not meant to be loving pets: They are fierce and wild, savage and cruel. This bird was not tamed, it was broken.
Later when his father left him, the boy cried over his pet, until eventually his father sent a servant to take the body of the bird and bury it.
The boy never cried again, and he never forgot what he learned: that to love is to destroy and to be loved is to be the one destroyed.
From City of Bones by Cassandra Clare.

Idiosyncratic.

Be different.

5/10/2010

Note to self.

5 comments:

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too cool.

The boy and his falcon - One of my favourite stories.