Your Hair On My Pillow, Your Smell On My Sheets

[Heels Over Head – Boys Like Girls]

Sometimes I have these little daydreams which are – as you’ll see – incredibly self-centered. Now, this particular story-line follows Samantha Who? a little bit. Hey, originality is hard to find these days.

I would wonder, if I was in an accident where I hit my head pretty damn hard, and sustained head trauma just enough to get amnesia, but not enough to, you know, lose my sexy head of hair, then what would happen when I wake up?

First of all, I’d consider who’d be at my bedside, whose face would be the first blur upon my memory. Now, keep in mind, I have retained all my life-long knowledge i.e. what little maths skills I have, what the capital of China is etc, but I simply lost all memory of people, and any activities I did with them.

Right, so obviously the person by my bedside would be my first source of “where am I, who are you, who am I?” I’ll probably get told that I was in an accident, lost all my memories, and the person by my bedside is either a parent, or a close friend.

But the fun part is, “who am I?” I’ll get my name, my age, and from there a few more answers will provide me with where I live, what I am doing currently (university student, at which point I will remember that I go to Melbourne University, and knowledge of the media I learned).

But who am I? More visitors will come into my room – I hope. Face after strange face. Hi, I went to high-school with you. Hi, we hang out at uni. Names will blur. Each of them will tell me a bit more of who I am, through the memories I’ve shared with them. Remember, we used to go to the State Library to study, but instead we played games in the Games Room; you call me Douche all the time! You have to remember me, come on, I was one of the last people you were with before the accident, you call me Manwhore, remember? Okay, you might not remember who I am but…do you remember what Gooka stands for? Look at my eyes, look at my small tiny eyes! Listen to how I say ‘three’ funny!

And maybe I’ll start remembering things, small snatches of people and events. Maybe, maybe I’ll read through this blog. I’ll browse through all those other pages of my life.

But then the clincher: Will I like me? I already said once that I don’t like Scrubs because the humor is too close to my own sense of humor, and for some reason it repelled me. Basically, if I met me, I’d hate me.

Think about it, would you like you? Would you like you for who you are now? If not, why not? I’m not saying “change who you are to be a good person” I’m just saying “take a look” and see.

Alex.

Some random title…I don’t fucking know…

Ok coming up with witty titles is hard, especially when you’re not quite sure what you want to write about yet. So in this instance “you” is “me”. Bad grammar? Bite me. (That was aimed at Dom, who criticized my grammar in an email.)

I don’t even know why I started one, a post I mean, just that I felt like writing.

Right now, I am on MSN with Julia. Before that I was on with Vania. I mean, I’m still with Vania. This does NOT sound like cheating.

Julia dropped me a line on Facebook asking if I was online. I wasn’t. So when I was I said so. Comments were exchanged, and Julia came on MSN and started talking to me. At first Vania and I thought she would ask me about Monash tomorrow, and I was a tad disappointed because I thought Julia was going to, you know, strike up an exciting conversation with me.

I think the way I structured that sentence is about to confuse you, because I was wrong about being wrong.

Julia is now talking to me exactly how I thought she would be talking to me before I thought she would be talking to me about Monash. And I am really honestly enjoying it. I enjoy the fact that she’s talking to me properly (not like…not that she usually I dunno grunts at me) and I enjoy talking to her past grunts. Metaphorical ones, of course.

It just seems that sometimes I am missing the huge amounts of gratitude that I owe people. Whether they were being nice “out of duty as a friend” (to paraphrase myself) or if they actually give a shit, I still owe them a thanks. But sometimes, and it’s not that I forget, but I just don’t feel the gratitude towards them because their care didn’t actually SOLVE the problem I was having, and if anything, at the time, their care made me feel worse. But as social conventions require, I thank them and I say I’m okay.

I am okay now, though, in all honesty on my stupid blog, I am okay now. But what am I mean to say then? “No I’m shit, but hey look there is honestly NOTHING you can do to help.” That doesn’t make them feel better. People – and this is so cynical – try to help other people because by being all humanitarian they in turn feel better themselves. So if I deny them that chance to feel better for themselves, then I just made someone else unhappy.

I’m coming off as a liar, I know. I’d meant that…seeing as they can’t do anything anyway, let them have their good feelings. Because in the end, it’s the people who seriously, genuinely (and be honest to yourself here, you know if you GENUINELY care) want to help that won’t stop at a “yeah I’m okay” because they can tell if something’s wrong.

Shit this is one of my worst grammatical posts yet.

Okay, this isn’t going to lead anywhere, but I’ve written out half a thousand words I’m not backspacing it now.

Thank you, Julia.

Alex.