Journeys and belonging, and all that shiz

We went on a coffee date today. He said he notices my face more now. Then I went to a bookshop and picked out two books and asked him whether I can have them as a (very early) birthday present and he said yes. I am trying to return to my state of no (or, low) expectations and learning to appreciate everything and it feels excellent. The trouble with me is, I naturally expect everyone else around me or everyone close to me to be on the same page or at least on board with whatever I am doing. The result is that I either push people away or be disappointed. But that is a terribly unhealthy place to be at. I need to accept that I might be at a different place to everyone else, and I inevitably will be, and I just need to go on with life the way I feel is best. Life is short and no one else will be there with me when I die. Why wait on others?

I got my hen's party scrapbook the other day from NC. I'm pretty sure I've talked about Miffy before - she is an amazing person that I look up to a lot. She doesn't wait on others to get things done or get her off her backside, when she wants to do something, she does it. She didn't go through university and she doesn't let it bother her or interrupt her from advancing through her projects, which is pretty unusual for a girl from a sub-continental background, amongst whom the idea that 'secular studies = success' is ingrained. She has a project called Muslim Life Hackers, which has about 5000 likes on Facebook. So, Miffy said that she was inspired to start because her and I were talking about this blog of mine a long time ago, and when she asked me whether I felt any inhibition putting myself out there on here, running the risk of my personal stuff being read by people from my professional life, apparently I said, "who cares?". To know that those two words inspired her, inspires me. I have become a lot more inhibited lately and I plan to come out of it soon.

I guess the inhibition comes from being in a new kind of environment where everyone else is pretty much inhibited, i.e: being in the adult world. I don't like the terms 'adult' and 'child' separating two worlds though. Why can't I be uninhibited, innocent and creative while moving through the different stages of my life? Why do I have to "grow up" the way society wants me to, and enter my grave in a state of dissatisfaction? Also, how do I know that I will die at eighty or so? What if I die tomorrow? What good would being inhibited do me? Nothing.

I love that Mr. H is supporting me in this journey to become more of the better parts of who I used to be. But, even if he stops at any point, I should still keep going. We are all individuals.

Domesticity

I wrote a few lines of poetry after a very long time, yesterday. I almost forgot that I used to write. I almost can't remember what it was like to not let real life get in the way of myself (not that this is a good thing, but its usually the more attractive option). I was inspired by a friend who also writes.

Cut through me, all the way to my essence.
Spoon out some love from its jar,
Compassion and passion
Pour them into the hole you made.
Do not alarm yourself if a couple of tears and
A few drops of blood and sweat
Drip onto your hands.
They'll tell you
I'm alive.

Most of my poetry have a particular reason behind them, and only I know the reason. For example, I had a fight with my mum and wrote the one that started with 'stuck in a stalemate' about five years ago. I didn't write down the reason behind it anywhere, but I still remembered imageries from the poem. I can't even remember what the fight was about, but I remember the feeling and the pictures that formed in my mind. 

Right now, I am sipping on a tea in front of the fan while writing. The tea packet claims that it 'will have you feeling absolutely peachy. The peachy feeling you get from recharging in the sun while the world is on mute. Except for the radio, which appears to be playing your favourite song'. I'm not listening to the radio right now, but how is the description so perfect? That is exactly how I was feeling when I got the tea and started to write, with the world on mute and all.

Our stove isn't working. The car has a massive scratch, due to me, which is getting rusted right now. The house has ants here and there, not exactly sure why. I still have at least three years to finish studying. The milk and bread went off sometime between two days ago and this morning. There is a pile of clothes to wash, plates and cups to rearrange and furniture to dust.