Monday, May 25, 2009

Staring At Disco Lights

I just got home from a very close friend's 18th birthday. Complete, of course, with the semi-formal evening wear, the program, the food. Complete with family and friends and surprises. And oh, there was a lot of dancing going on too.

I had tons of fun and a majorly disastrous wardrobe malfunction, ate some, danced a lot, and basically managed to embarrass myself in more ways than one. All in a night's partying.

But some time near the end of the event, I got tired of all the awful dancing and ended up staring at disco lights, and thinking.

But no, the lights there didn't look like this one. I just ripped this picture off.

The first thing I realized was that staring at a rotating, multi-colored ball of light for too long will make you nauseous. Which might explain why I thought this blog post up in the first place. If this piece is just the nausea talking, I sure hope it makes a lot more sense than I do.

I figured, 18 years is a long time. It's long enough for you to grow, either into the person you wanted and planned on being, or into such a far shot from who you thought you would be.

I thought, if life were a dance floor, then my personal purpose would be to bring utter embarrassment on myself as long as I lived. Damn. But anyway.

Life can be a dance floor, I guess. People come and stay indefinitely. They dance with us through a song, or two, or more. There are even times when we feel alone on that dance floor, while the world watches on. But there are times when it's filled with people we love and that's when we feel most secure.

There's always music, of course. All our lives have soundtracks. Sometimes it's all fun and party music, but there are times when we have to dance slow, and save room for talking, or thinking, and being serious.

There's the disco ball too, casting different colors of light on the dance floor. A romantic glow of red, perhaps, or a lively yellow, or some melancholy shade of blue. Disco lights, like emotions, do make us nauseous sometimes, especially when we dwell on them for too long. But we should never shut it off. A dance floor without disco lights is not quite as fun, and life with emotions all shut off, is not like life at all.

And we don't all glide on the dance floor in the same way. Some people are graceful on the dance floor, in analogy living their lives with an ease and comfort that others would covet. Others, still, are scared to move. You have to push them onto the dance floor, but then they refuse to try and dance. And most of us, I guess, may not be born with the grace, but refuse to be immobilized by the fear. I, for one, know that I don't know half of what I do on the dance floor, but I keep trying. It may not look perfect--it comes off a little too clumsy, even--but I do my best. And I never forget to enjoy every moment.

So, life is a dance floor. Over the years of dancing, we grow up (and optionally grow old), people come and go, lights spin, and we find our own way on it.

But all that matters to me is that some people are here to stay, to lead me through awkward steps, to slow-dance with me and share thoughts, or just to be wacky and fun. With that knowledge I can bask in the multi-colored spinning lights, and make my clumsy way through life with a smile. After all, we just have to move in rhythm with the music.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

A New Coat Of Paint

So my blog has a new look, mostly because I had technical difficulties with the previous one (i.e., the theme images wouldn't load and I couldn't even upload them to my own photo hosting account). This template is pretty common, since it's one of the few that Blogger offers, but it's actually quite appropriate for my site title.

What I love about these customizable blogs--aside from the fact that they don't cost me bloody money like owning a domain would--is that you can change their entire look with one click of a button. Or a couple, actually, but you get my point.

I know some people would love to have that. An entirely new image, pulled off in a snap. Yeah, I kind of hate to admit it but I'm talking yet again about change.

Change. Sometimes we dread and fear it. Yet some part of us also looks forward to it and gets excited about it, because at some level we know we need it.

I guess that anyone who has at least gone through puberty has encountered a personal crisis of sorts, no matter how minor. (If you are an exception to this rule, damn, you're lucky. Or weird.) And it's usually during these times that we feel we need to alter ourselves in some way.

Relationships are suckers for change too. Every time we get into fights and arguments with the people we care about, do we not promise to change our habits, or our attitudes, or what not? With every break-up and the succeeding make-up, each couple makes a point of changing their relationship.

Relationships, both intrapersonal and interpersonal, require a fair amount of renovation and repainting.

But I get this feeling, that no matter how many renovations we make inside ourselves, our connections and relationships; no matter how shiny and bright and different we paint the outer walls, there is always something at the very core that remains.

This realization, for me, is mixed news. I mean, it's not pleasant to know that you and your partner might keep on fighting in the same way, or that there is perhaps some undesirable quality of yours that you can't junk just yet. But it's also quite comforting to think that along with the annoying fights, the sincerity of your feelings remain, or that your lovable quirks are still there for your friends to laugh at.

I'm not sure about that, however, since people do choose what and how much they alter. I guess the only thing I'm really grateful for is the small personal belief I have now: that no matter how big a change life can bring me, I won't really be a total stranger to myself and to my relationships--because if I look closely enough, I will find home even in something seemingly too different.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

The Take Over The Break's Over

First post in what seems like lightyears, and here I am ripping off Fall Out Boy. But it's fitting, so there. (And I realized I ripped off their album title for another recent blog too. What the heck, but anyway.)

The break is over. I've been away for around three months in this blog. (I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to my imaginary readers.) Wow. So much has happened in my real life; it's like a whole climactic chapter of my life has been packed in that time-frame. And although I take care that this particular blog doesn't absorb too much of my mundane stories and random rants, I can't say that nothing will change about the way I write, or the way I think.

Yes, this is some takeover of sorts. I went missing. And I think that every time we go missing we mean it. We mean to be missed. And we do whatever it is that we feel we have to. We hide out and metamorphose and then we come back. With such long retreats there is always a change. Sometimes it's subtle, like a new favorite expression, or a bit of hair cut off, or a different color of nails. Sometimes it's an almost entire life change, much like the one a former friend of mine pulled off. (I was browsing through it a while ago.) A complete overhaul, as one friend terms it.

People do change. But some things about them stay the same.

I, for one will still try to be profound. Apparently the closest to profundity I can get is at around 3 a.m. So I'm still here, tap-tap-tapping away at my noisy, worn, yet well-loved keyboard while the rest of my timezone (including my parents, who have moved into the adjacent room and who will be furious to discover me still up) are snoozing away.

And this blog as we know it will go on. So there. A welcome back blog and from me for me.

Happy reading (if anyone is reading anyway).


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