Acceptance.

When you're a kid, you do not think that much about things around you. As you grow up, being accepted, or creating a status or a reputation becomes increasingly important. How we are perceived by others is not only a matter of oneself; people will see you not only as you project yourself to be, but as they've learned to perceive people who project that image that you're conveying. The peak on the perception/importance graph probably occurs during our teenage years, and, sometimes, a bit later.

Later in life, you understand that it is impossible to be perceived the same way by everybody. Some people will see you as a great, understanding, kind fellow, while others will perceive you as a false, pretentious bastard. And yet, both groups of people might have seen you doing the exact same things, acting the exact same way.

Social conventions and education can help you appeal to a bigger demographic, but, let's face it, nobody can be liked by everyone. People will dislike you no matter how hard you try, how kind or generous you try to be. I remember accepting this fact when I was 16 years old. Some people don't ever accept it, and others thrive for unacceptance, joining that way a different demographic of acceptance.

I don't struggle to be accepted, because I don't really try. I think I'm not a bad guy, a jerk, or a pathetic piece of scum. I do question those things about myself, since I can, accidentally, act like one, and I don't think that avoiding those thoughts can be healthy, the same way that I think that religion, God, or even Love must be questioned. I don't need to be accepted by everybody. I won't try to be accepted by most, even. There's only a few people who I would fight for in order to be accepted. And those are the people who I like to call friends. I have hurt a few friends in my time, sadly. And I have, always, managed to explain myself well enough so that they can understand. And luckily, they have never disappointed me. I'm proud of those people, really proud.

I will not pretend to be as naïve as to think that we don't need to accept ourselves first, or to think that we need to be accepted by anybody at all to live happily. But sometimes -very rare times in my case-, being accepted by somebody can mean the difference between happiness and "just another day".

Some of you 2 readers might be thinking "does this guy have a point?" My answer: Yes.

Don't judge me, you're the ones who read all through my crap.

Monkey business

Today has been one of those days... So now I'm tired, and emotionally distressed and in a very "fuck this shit mood". To honor the latter, I shall tell you a double-flash-backed story.


I used to be in a band. Well, I used to define ourselves as a group of friends that happen to play together, but we did gigs here and there (some pretty nice venues too), wrote our own songs, rehearsed, recorded some tracks, and that kind of thing.

It was the year 2005? Or something like that. And we went to record drums for the first time on a house in the outskirts of Madrid. I usually went to work at the recording studio and would leave to the "country house" straight from there, but this was a weekend, I think, because the whole band was there.

After recording some tracks, we ordered a few pizzas and decided to eat them, as tradition dictates. We were talking about rock and roll, friendship, and shit. And then a story combined them all.

Dvd: Dude, I remember when we were kids and used to [insert stuff that you'd do when you were a kid in the 80s]!
Me: Oh yeah, I remember [same kinda crap]

The rest of the friends (and one of the girlfriends who had come that day) nodded assertively and smiled celebrating this long lasting friendship.

Dvd: And I still remember, one time, you threw your own shit to my neighbors.

Silence took over the table, jaws dropped, eyes opened, heads turned, hands stopped, pizza portions hanged.

Me: What? Imposs...! Oh crap. I remember.


Of course, after that the silence didn't manage to persist. Thankfully, laughter was the most reasonable way out. So they laughed. I... on the other hand, had to explain.

Me: Wait, wait! It wasn't like that! I was trying to avenge Dvd from whatever the neighbors had done, so I pooped in my hand and...

...and realized I wasn't making things any better.


Moral? Don't throw excrement in the name of friendship. It will haunt you forever. The memory, not the excrement. Mmmh... I guess that's not so bad, if you look at it that way.

Pissed.

Maybe it’s just that I haven’t slept well in a couple of days. Very uncomfortable dreams have been making my mornings harder than they should be. Yesterday I dreamed that Nemesis was sick. As in permanently sick. It woke me up at 4a.m. and couldn’t go back to sleep. Today I dreamed that I finally snapped at my boss. I started saying everything I want to say in a very blunt, offensive way. Sad thing is, those two dreams are quite possible of coming true.

I am very pissed. I’m hating pretty much everything about me and the life I’ve created, about the stupid things around me that don’t matter and are still parading their mediocrity. Am I the only spectator who notices this? Maybe I’m the only one who wants to project this onto every little thing.

I suck. Moving on...

The whole situation is finally sinking in and I have been checking out the last 2 years of my Nemesis' posts.

Doing that, I have reached a few thoughts that have probably been quite enhanced by my jet lag:

1.- She's still quite teh awesome.

2.- She's suffered like a bitch, and some of that grief comes from your loyal Maître-D.

3.- I have been a repressed asshole. Not only I have hurt myself by repressing my innermost feelings, but I have hurt her way more than i thought.

4.- If I'm feeling like crap, shower-scening and all that, I fucking deserve it.

Aside from those realizations, I am still trying to go on with the plan.

What is the plan, you ask? I guess you'll have to wait for chapter 2. Or will it be on chapter 3?

Maybe I'm too young to keep good love from going wrong, but tonight you're on my mind, so you never know. -Jeff Buckley

PROLOGUE

It’s been 3 days since the incident, 2 days after the diagnosis. Stranded by choice on an island in the Philippines, I still have no idea of how to deal with the situation.

But this might be it.