Saturday, February 25, 2012

But Nobody Likes Rango....

I was reading some of my older posts and caught myself laughing. I thought, "Shit. I really did sound younger and more naive back then." It's pretty bewildering how you can still be the same person yet different at the same time.

Anyway, I just watched the movie 'Crazy On The Outside'. It's basically about this ex-convict who got out and tries to fit in back his normal life. But what really intrigued me was that same storyline which most movies and books have: they keep going back and holding onto that one person who doesn't feel the same way, or not anymore.

I admit I don't have the qualifications to judge on this matter (I'm not judging, by the way) but rather, I just really often wonder why. How can someone go back to a person who keeps breaking their heart? How can someone still wake up and go back to sleep thinking about that one person who doesn't even think about him/her at all?

Argh. The power of love, they say.

I never quite understood love. Not yet, maybe. Of course I had crushes but I wouldn't say they amounted to love. Generally, the perception love is someone sweeping you off your feet, get you roses, buy you unexpected gifts and all those mushy little things that makes love seem so exciting and fun. All the things that most girls would want love as.

However, when I look at my parents, I don't see that. I don't see gifts, roses or sweet words coming from them -- in fact, I can't recall at all. But when I really, really look at them, there is love right there; between ups and downs, it's right there. Sometimes they would do some really simple things. That time, my mum cooked lunch and said to my dad, "Why are you eating so much? My cooking is so good, is it?" He replied, "Of course lah. My wife cooked it." Some may say it's unromantic or that the reason is 'the honeymoon phase has passed' but I don't think so. I just think, that's how love should be.

It should be simple, pure and comfortable. When you look at love, you should be able to be the very best you could possibly ever be. Some people's ideal of the perfect one is someones who is handsome, pretty, charming and rich. I used to have that ideal (blame it on Disney) but after a while, I realised I didn't want that. Instead, I want someone who I can feel safe and comfortable with, someone who can make me laugh and even if we fight and wake up the next day, no love will be lost.

So for those who keep running back and holding onto to the one who clearly isn't the best for them, this one is for you: "Look, I know that you think that she was the one. But I don't. Now, I think you're only remembering the good stuff. Next time you look back, I really think you should look again." - 500 Days of Summer

Don't be sad. Someday love will find you. (and maybe it has)

Friday, February 24, 2012

Maybe I Need You

This is a sort of poetry slam. It's Maybe I Need You by Andrea Gibson. It's just so beautiful!

The winter I told you I think icicles are magic,
you stole an enormous icicle from a neighbors shingle
and gave it to me as a gift
I kept it in my freezer for seven months
until the day I hurt my foot
and needed something to reduce the swelling
Love isn’t always magic
sometimes it’s just melting
or it’s black and blue
where it hurts the most
Last night I saw your ghost
pedaling a bicycle with a basket
towards a moon as full as my heavy head
and I wanted nothing more than to be sitting in that basket
like ET with my glowing heart glowing right through my chest
and my glowing finger pointing in the direction of our home
Two years ago I said I never want to write our break up poem;
you built me a time capsule full of big league chew
and promised to never burst my bubble
I loved you from our first date at the batting cages
when I missed 23 balls in a row
and you looked at me
like I was a home run in the ninth inning of the world series
Now every time I hear the word, ‘love’, I think going, going…
The first week you were gone,
I kept seeing your hand wave goodbye
like a windshield wiper in a flooding car
and the last real moment I believed the hurricane would let me out alive
Yesterday I carved your name into the surface of an ice cube
then held it against my chest til it melted into my aching pores
Today I cried so hard the neighbors knocked on my door
and asked if I wanted to borrow some sugar
I told them I left my sweet tooth in your belly button
Love isn’t always magic
but if I offered my life to the magician -
if I told her to cut me in half
so tonight I could come to you whole
and ask for you back
would you listen
for this dark alley love song;
for the winter we heated our home from the steam off our own bodies?
I wrote you too many poems in a language I did not yet know how to speak
But I know now it doesn’t matter how well I say grace
if I am sitting at a table where I am offering no bread to eat
So this is my wheat field;
you can have every acre, love
This is my garden song
This is my fist fight
with that bitter frost
Tonight I begged another stage light to become that back alley street lamp that we danced beneath -
the night your warm mouth fell on my timid cheek
as I sang, maybe I need you
off key
but in tune
Maybe I need you the way that big moon needs that open sea
Maybe I didn’t even know was here til I saw you holding me
Give me one room to come home to;
give me the palm of your hand
Every strand of my hair is a kite string
and I have been blue in the face with your sky -
crying a flood over Iowa so you mother can wake to Venice
Lover, I smashed my glass slipper to build a stained glass window for every wall inside my chest
Now my heart is a pressed flower and a tattered Bible
It is the one verse you can trust,
so I’m putting all of my words in your collection plate
I am setting the table with bread and grace
My knees are bent
like the corner of a page
I am saving your place