sorry --- maria mena

I'm really sorry to be doing this, but it seems like China no longer blocks wordpress, so I'm moving back. Because I miss it and because I really don't like blogger anymore. Plus, juggling passwords is too difficult for my already overtaxed brain.

See you at www.theconfabulist.wordpress.com

random

I want eggs and toast for breakfast.

For some reason, eggs and toast for breakfast has come to symbolize all that is missing about life here in China. It's such a simple thing, drop the eggs into the pan, pop the toast into the toaster, salt, pepper and voila, beauty in a breakfast.

Except here in my dorm room, I don't even have a refrigerator let alone a stovetop or microwave oven or mini grill.

I miss having a kitchen, godammit.

I want three dollar fifty cups of coffee.

I want panini and bruschetta and roasted mushrooms in olive oil.

I want my own home-made minestrone.

I want to wash this aston villa jersey that smells like old spice.

it's the wrong kind of place to be thinking of you

This was what was left of a human individual when you took away his home, his family, his friends, his city, his country, his world: a being without context, whose past faded, whose future was bleak, an entity stripped of name, meaning, of the whole of life except a temporarily beating heart. "I am absurd", he told himself. Salman Rushdie: The Enchantress of Florence

I wrote this long post about human freedom and individuality and context and then I realised that the only thing I really want to say tonight is this:

I feel so numb that I don't think I will ever feel any love for anyone again. And the really frightening thing is, the thing that makes me imagine years of loneliness, is that I don't want to feel. I want to keep everyone I meet at arms length because the truth is, if you give people enough time and enough opportunity, they will let you down, everytime. I'd rather be numb than to expect more from people and be disappointed.

I know that this isn't the way to live life, but the alternative frightens me too much.

give the heavens above more than just a passing glance.

Here's what I've learned from a month of strangers and random people: everyone has problems. Everyone holds back tears once in a while. Everyone has been lonely at least once or twice. Everyone has doubted themselves.

We just learn to hide it. Behind the smiles, behind the clink of beer bottles and the rising scent of a cigarette in your hand. Behind the loudest laughter and the sweetest voices. We hide it with small talk and air kisses and meaningless relationships.

Because to admit the truth would be too terrible. That this is life, minute by minute, and every sundown is one less day of your life to live and if you were to die in your sleep, you would not be able to answer this question: how meaningful did you make your day? What import did your life have? Because more often than not, the answer would be: I have no fucking idea.

So we grin and bear it.

how many times can i break til i shatter

Tell me something that has changed your life. It can be anything, an event, a place, a person, a movie, a book, a couple of words, even a couple of beers.

But tell me something that has changed your life.