poetry in commotion...

Pancake waffles and other meaningless titles.

Papal politics. Global warming. 9/11. Buzzwords to lead you into thinking I'm talking about something less trivial than why mummy baked a chocolate cake but did not put any icing on it. However, it seems to pale in comparison to the last week and a half where it seems like everything I do fails in such a spectacular way that I can't help but feel that I can only perform as complex a task as eating soup with a very blunt plastic spoon. I can't seem to do anything right. My timing is off where I come to everything always just a little too late, my speaking skills have degenerated to the point where I feel that only a neanderthal, and a particularly stupid one at that, can understand the liquid much gibberish of half formed words and unfinished, trailing sentences; and that any action I perform is an awkward display of uncoordination normally reserved for young children or invalid seniors. Sometimes I have times like these. I'm sure everyone of us those. However, why is the timing always so perfect that it only happens during events of great importance? This is especially true for the start of uni as first impressions count, and that you want to appear as nothing less than a person at the top of your game, especially to those that you feel nothing but contempt for. In fact, I was so angry at myself today that I just stormed out of uni early, and thinking back, probably made a huge scene as I disgustedly threw down my bag and kicked the side of the bus stop, muttering profanities and generally lacking the reserve and self control I normally have.

Rebecca once asked me if I had any regrets, and I told her that every major decision I've made, I felt I had made the correct choice. Which is true. However, it seems like lately I've felt this feeling of regret more and more, and that my personal decision making skills have really been lacking. I find myself inundated with little regrets, like leaving a conversation earlier than I should have, saying one thing while I really should've said the other, and as I thought about this on the way home I had a little epiphany, the sort you only really get when it seems like nothing else coould possibly be worse. We're asking for the wrong things in our lives. When people are asked, "what do you want in life?", some will want material things, like a car, a house, sex; others will desire something with more depth, like love, wisdom, courage. I'm not saying that I disagree with those wanting love, courage etc I'm saying that we all already have that, that all of these things are, and have been, within our grasp. However, it is the choices we make that take those things beyond our reach. What I'm saying, is that we should ask for, desire, the one thing that will bring these things back within our reach.

Lord, God of Hosts
Grant me.......
another chance.

Ever been torn between two people, and made the wrong choice? Ever wished you could have said what you really wanted to say, but didn't? I've asked for love, I've asked for happiness but I've realised, these things I could've achieved all along. I found love. I found meaning. I found friendship. But I made the wrong choice. And so I utter the line that I repeat so often. If I had one more chance. I'm not talking about not doing something, and regretting it afterwards. I'm not that sort of person. If I want something enough, I will do what it takes to gain that desire. What I am talking about however, is that I had this thing I wanted in the first place, but I lost it. So I ask for one more chance.

Speaking of regrets, I know it's silly to say this at my age, but I am getting older. And with this, I realise that the window of opportunity where I get to get inebriated and enage in drunken shenannigans is fast diminishing. I remember drunken antics with Richard's sex toys. I remember roaming the streets with a friend lost for hours, only to find out that what we'd just been doing was circling the block over and over. Kicking out streetlights while sharing a joint. Pissing on people's front doors while wishing their dog would shut up. All great times, and while I've refrained from such things for a while now (the influence of the girls I'm sure), perhaps engaging in a couple more should be the order of the day before I graduate from uni and get a real job, with real responsibilities.

Oh yes, before I go, since St Pat's is on Thursday, I'm accepting applications for pretty girls to have drunken sex with me. What's going to happen is that we'll both get really really drunk until we can both barely stand up, collapse in some seedy backpacker's hostel where I'll drunkenly fumble around with your clothes and grope you a bit, before engaging in intercourse that will last approximately three seconds, at which I'll roll off you and pass out, leaving you unsatisfied and angry. Sounds great huh?

posted by jaseypoo! @ 11:47 PM