Family vs Partner

I’m writing this while waiting for my better half to shower. We’re in France on holiday. I usually don’t have much time to write while on vacation, apart from writing personal observations in my travel journal, however I missed writing, so I decided to turn a bit to my blog now, since I have the time.

I was randomly remembering an old article I had replied to some time ago. Someone was asking advice on whether she should prioritize either her family or her partner, since they did not get along well together. I guess most people would reply that family are there to stay while partners come and go. Thing is, I don’t think about it that way. Of course, the best thing is always to try and find a way for everyone to at least be civil to one another, especially if these are all people you care about. However, one thing one always has to remember is that it is a fact that no one gets to choose his/her own family. Family is something that willy nilly, you are born into. Rather like work colleagues. You just find them there and can’t choose them based on likes and dislikes, on their kindness or a nice personality.

A partner on the other hand, is someone you choose to spend your life with out of all other possible choices and after growing up as a person and learning what and who you actually want in your life (unless you’re desperate to get married before you’re 35 or something, in which case as long as the person’s not a serial killer, anyone will do. Lol).

So, moral of the story, with a partner you go into something with your eyes wide open and because you choose to, not because that’s how things got played out.

In the long run of course, be they family-members, partners, friends, or whatever, any kind of relationship can fizzle out. People drift apart, change, or plain out decide they want different persons in their lives, and one cannot take anything or anyone for granted. Thing is, as long as it’s all about choice, it is important to prioritize those who, through their actions and behavior show that for them you are a priority in real fact.

So, there you have it. It is important to know who you are, what you want from life, and who you want to share it with, because in the end, time is finite, and it is the most precious thing we have.

And remember, real life is not lived on social media. It is not about how many likes you get, it is not about people’s approval, not about appearances and not about money. Real life is about making the most out of every day, learning and growing as a person, and most of all, it is about love, art, and personal evolution.

Now my partner is finally ready and off we go! A bientot! ☺☺

 

Solitude

When you’ve been bedridden for a long time, the sun only a memory, the fresh moving air of the big outside a far-off luxury, your state of mind inevitably changes. You start inventing small everyday rituals and tasks for yourself, not as a way to make time pass, though that’s a part of it, but as a way to keep your mind occupied and your life on a structured path. Being so cut off from everything and everyone also takes its toll. Now, I’m an introvert – I literally hate people, well most of them anyways. However this still gets to me. Ever since I’ve been in here, I started to loose time. To forget things said and done. I would think I’d told someone about a hospital appointment, when in reality I would have done nothing of the sort, and the conversation would have taken place only in my head. Similarly, I would forget physiotherapy appointments, thinking I’d changed dates.

When you loose your notion of time, something transcendental takes place. It’s like you’re in a world of your own, with its own rules of time and space. Your bedroom becomes the universe, and anything extraneous is only a passing shadow. The mirror of a dream which was real, once upon a time, long long ago.

Perceiving that one day, perhaps, all this will end and I will once again be part of the world outside is a far off glimmer. I know I am supposed to hope it will happen soon, but I cannot see it. I cannot imagine walking in the street, catching the bus, being in a roomful of people, many of them whom I’ve never ever met before. Strangers. I cannot fathom not feeling the humid warm recycled air of my house. Not being able to rest in bed whenever I feel pain, or tired, or just too depressed to even face the light coming from the balcony. 

Falling into the soft embrace of tears each time any little inconsequential thing takes place, each time sadness disturbs the placid waters of my day to day life – I am not fit for normal human company. Will I ever be again? Will I ever go back to what I was? And even if I heal physically, will I be able to interact with strangers in a foreign environment, or worse with people who think they ‘know me’? 

Do I really want to?

Reality vs Fake Airs- Why Write?

I’m not the kind of girl who likes to boast. I don’t play the passive-aggressive card. I don’t like playing the victim in order to get pats on the back. I don’t like putting myself down in public, in order to receive commiserating compliments. I got past all that immature stuff at approximately the age of 15.

It does not mean that I am emotionless or that I don’t have feelings. On the contrary, it means that I only share what I find worth sharing. Moreover, I only share it with a limited number of people I am close to, and definitely not with social media at large. I’m not that desperate yet.

Perhaps it could be that I don’t have the unmitigated urge to display all my insecurities and naggy rages because I have, I admit, always been kind of an introvert. Yes, I communicate and share my experiences through writing, but still I  pay attention to get only as personal as I’m comfortable with. Especially if I’m writing something which, I know, many people are going to read. How many intimate sentimental poems have I written? How many embittered and angry short stories, reflecting my moods and my past, have I penned? How many irritated rants about my disgust and dissatisfaction with the human condition at large have I scribbled? No one knows the answer to this question except myself. Mainly because no one has read them – or if they did, it was only one or two people at the most. This is because, when my heart bleeds and my fingernails gauge half-moons of frustration on my palms, I write – I cannot help it – it is the way I vent what I feel and the way I tick. However, just because I write something, actually showing it to someone is something else entirely. 

I write for myself. I write because I cannot stop. I write because it helps me come to term with reality – ironic as that sounds.

Whether something is floating on a current of social media out there or not, is irrelevant.

I guess it all depends on whether you prioritize yourself as an individual most, or whether you are more focused on how you appear to others. For me, my internal personal life has always been more important than the way others perceive me, how ‘popular’ I am or what a ‘good’ impression others have of me. In the end, I prefer having some friends who care for me for who I really am, than many acquaintances who might hang out with me for any fake ‘persona’ I might project. At least I know that those who love me, love me. In all my silly, eccentric, weird singularity.

Quoting one of (in my opinion) the greatest fantasy writers of all time:

“My immagination makes me human and makes me a fool; it gives me all the world and exiles me from it.”
― Ursula K. Le Guin

Insomnia

I cannot save you
While the blood rages and the heart moans
I cannot save you
As you look askance at the twisted vines
I cannot save you
Your gaze is too suspicious, your mind is too old

Let go
Of all those moments of rank belittilement
Let go
The gnashing thunder within your veins
Let go
Those tears of madness you are still hiding

You know
They clamor ever hungry for reprisal
You know
Your violent flame is roaring for more
You know
This is the reason why sleep flees

And yet
The pounding surf cannot be silent
And yet
That vortex of hate will not be still
And yet
Your eyes will always spit blood and flame

And that, is why
I cannot save you
Unless you save yourself
And dream

© M_Moonsong

What to buy a Bookworm for Xmas

DEFINITELY NOT BOOKS!

People who are not bibliophiles (or those who think they are and enjoy telling everyone how much they read, when in reality they just read ‘chick-trash’) will tell you that buying Xmas gifts for bookworms is easy. You just go to the local bookshop and purchase something from the ‘Top Ten’ shelf, right?

WRONG

TOTALLY WRONG

WRONG A MILLION TIMES OVER

First of all, how on earth do you know which kind of books your friend/partner/family-member likes? Secondly, if you DO know them that well, how on earth do you know whether they already have that particular book in their collection or not? Or whether they have already read it (and maybe hated it) or not? If you ask them which books they want, that might be ok – however that depends on whether you want the pressie to be a surprise or whether you just want to ease your conscience from the start, and just set out to take the easy way out, by asking about it.

Personally, if a gift is not a surprise, I don’t see the point of it, so there you have it. You just can’t ask someone what they want for Xmas right? It’s downright rude. Like asking a new date whether they love you or not during the first hour of making out for the first time. Rude or kinda angsty teenager drama behavior anyways.

I remember once someone I was dating tried to be clever by giving me a set of books for my birthday. BIG MISTAKE. That was actually the first indication that I needed to give the guy the sack, right there and then (my big mistake was that I waited a couple of months after that first signal). The guy actually showed he did not know me at all. Imagine giving ME ‘Supernatural teenage romance’ – you know that kind of romantic triangle mush which actually makes ‘Twilight’ look like just vomit, instead of 100-year old drainage. Yes, that bad.

So, no, if your partner, your friend, your mother, your neighbor or your teacher is a book-maniac, DO NOT take the easy way out and gift him/her with the first book you ‘might think’ is their style or which you ‘might think’ they have not read yet.

Give them a cute owl-patterned blanket, give them fluffy house slippers, give them an Alice in Wonderland gothic tea-set, give them panda ear-muffs or a new Gorjuss diary.

Or to be on the safe side, and make them 100% happy, just give them a voucher from Book Depository, and let them decide what to buy for themselves.

Thank you very much!! ;0p

Finally – Imbolc is Coming!!

Pronounced: EE-Molc
Incense: Rosemary, Frankincense, Myrrh, Cinnamon
Decorations: Corn Dolly, Besom, Spring Flowers
Colours: White, Orange, Red

While for many people, next weekend is a normal weekend like any other, for Pagans and Wiccans the world over the 1st and 2nd of February are very important, as the Wheel of the Year turns once again, and the festival of Imbolc is celebrated and enjoyed.

Imbolc, found between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox, marks the beginning of Spring, and is also called Brigid’s Day. Historically it was mostly observed in Wales, Ireland and Scotland and the Isle of Man, where this aspect of the Goddess was most predominant, and it is one of the four Celtic fire festivals.

This is yet another Pagan tradition which the Romans, and through them the Christian sect, warped and appropriated, turning Brigid, Goddess of the Spring and New Life, into their Christianised representation – Saint Brigid – lol surprise, surprise. When Ireland converted to Christianity, it was hard to convince people to get rid of their old gods, so the church allowed them to worship the Goddess Brigid as a saint — thus the creation of St. Brigid’s Day. Today, there are many churches around the world which bear her name. The Christian version of Imbolc is also called Candlemas.

This is a festival of hearth and home, involving hearthfires, divination through fire, as well as the joyous celebration of the coming Spring. It commemorates the changing aspect of the Goddess from Crone to Maiden, the successful passing of Winter, and the emergence of new leaves and greenery.

It is Feile Brighde, the ‘quickening of the year’. The original word Imbolg means ‘in the belly’, and therein you have the underlying energy. All is pregnant and expectant – and only just visible if at all, like the gentle curve of a ‘just-showing’ pregnancy. It is the promise of renewal, of hidden potential, of earth awakening and life-force stirring.

Like Persephone coming out of the Underworld, Brigid represents the light and bright half of the year.

Celebrants prepare a special meal on this day, as well as weave rushes or stalks of wheat or barley, into what is known as a Brigid’s Cross, symbolising not just the human figure, but also the seasons and the elements. Brigid’s symbol is often hung on doors and windows, in order to symbolise the household’s welcoming of Brigid into their home.

It is traditional upon Imbolc, at sunset or just after ritual, to light every lamp in the house – if only for a few moments, or light candles in each room in honor of the Sun’s rebirth.

Traditionally, some covens also have their ritual Maiden wear a ‘Brigid’s Crown’, a wreath made of fresh flowers and green grass, and sporting 12 small candles around, as representation of the fiery Goddess.

Foods appropriate to eat on this day include those from the dairy, since Imbolc marks the festival of calving. Sour cream dishes are fine. Spicy and full-bodied foods in honour of the Sun are equally attuned. Curries and all dishes made with peppers, onions, leeks, shallots, garlic or chives are appropriate. Spiced wines and dishes containing raisins – all foods symbolic of the Sun – are also traditional.

MERRY IMBOLC!! 😀