Dear Me

So the other day I was tidying out my room (I have had to throw out pretty much like 60% of my belongings) in preparation for moving into the flat in July. The flat itself is beautiful. If you tried to go look at it at some point over the past few day's you'd be oblivious to it due to the large amount of this:

A stock photo; but generally the state of affairs.

But if you were a massive creep and managed to break into it, you'd see this: 

Beautiful flat. Beautiful beautiful. The only reason there's only one photo is that the rest got taken down off the website when we secured it! Sad! But there will be plenty photos when we move in.

I shall be living with the lovely Kimbers and Caroline in our aforementioned beautiful flat on Potterrow.  The location is IDEAL: I mean, I can see my lecture theatre from the bedroom window. The issue is, that my mum is selling the Family flat in Leith either during or just after the summer. This means whatever I take with me, is what I am taking and what I have. She's looking at two bedrooms for after the sell, so this time I fly the nest I have to go, and I can't turn back. I've had to throw away so many things I'd rather keep for memory sake; but there's simply not room for them. I feel a little better knowing that the flat is round the corner though (timescale wise). Our levels of psychosis and excitability mean that we are all highly anticipating the move with vigour:

Well, Caroline and I are. Kim just looks a little exasperated.

SO, When I was cleaning out stuff, I found a lot of old diaries (which I did not throw out) and read through some. There were some from when I was like 14, where I just laughed at my naivety, then ones from when I was like 16 where I just laughed at my naivety, then ones from when I was 17 where I just laughed at my naivety. Ones from my 18th birthday where I laughed at my stupidy. So on, so on, ones from June, July, August, September, October, November, December last year where I laughed at my stupidity. Ones from January, February, March where I laughed at my stupidity and naivety. Retrospect is a powerful tool, we grow personally at such a rate, even within weeks we can laugh at ourselves, see our outrageous little mistakes and gaps in judgement. Or big gaps in judgement. I realised this especially when I correlated my diary entries with Die Liste at the back (so renamed due to Teresa). 


What else? Everything is gooood. I have been watching Will and Grace compulsively between shifts at work which seem to be becoming increasingly chaotic (both the former and latter) with all the budget cuts. I have some ironing to do, so I shall scram now. 




Ciao 


xxx

What brings people together?

Dear Friend,

I was listening to "Circle of Life" from the Lion King (don't ask) and it got me thinking (again, don't ask: my train of thought is horrific at the best of times) about what brings people together. Of all the hundreds of people we meet on every boring week with our windswept hair or accidental toothpaste smudge on our black jeans we keep trying to get rid of that keeps recurring all day, what catches our attention to a person, or what makes us click?

Now, I don't mean this purely in a relationship sense. In fact, I don't mean it in that way at all. That one's kind of easy to work out - I mean friends.
My mum once told me about how she met one of her best friends Angie in the RAF, and she said
"At that time in our lives, we both had only one thing in common: we both needed a friend."

I got thinking about a few of my friendships and what brought us together. What did we bond over? What made us friends? Surely just needing a friend isn't enough? How can that be substance enough? But then, they have been best friends since their teens on just that premise.




Are we friends because we have been for as long as we can remember? We've been friends so long, incidental facts such as how we met or what we bonded over no longer matter; we're the Will and Grace that cannot avoid each other ever. Sort of like an eternity bond. No matter what those stupid little details are, it seems that our friendship is something that transcends all of that.

Are we friends because we found kindred (mentally unstable  introspective) people in each other that we had been seeking? That we found that kind of friend we'd been looking for, the person we could talk about those things with really, deeply, and intelligently. Philosophy will never die.

Are we friends by proxy? We get on, but perhaps we would not spend as much time with each other had we not other mutual friends in common, but we have been roped into the cycle? Will we only be friends as long as we have that mutual friend there holding us together?

Are we friends because we need something from each other that we can give? Did we need someone to talk to that understood what we were thinking? Did we need the shoulder to cry on and that arm at night? What more is there beneath that? The friendship ends there.


Hmph. Okay, I'm not entirely sure where I was going with this, but I said what I was thinking. That's better than no blog entry, right?

Sean
x

Sonríe, porque

Sonríe,

no tengas miedo de mañana, porque hoy es la mañana que tuviste miedo en ayer, y todo es bien. 

Sonríe porque,

todo tiene que estar oscuro para poder ver las estrellas en tu vida. 

Sonríe porque,

naciste en esta forma, y naciste perfecto. Dios no comete errores. 

Sonríe porque,

dibujé tu sonrisa junto a la mía.

Sonríe porque,

No hay nadie como tú.

No hay nadie como tú. No lo olvida. Nunca.

Para toda la gente bella del mundo.
Muak


Sean