Take it slow, or just go for it...
I recently crossed a small issue... A small unexpected heartache, nothing special, but special for me to make it a big deal out of it. When am I not making a big deal out of a love story or love issue? It might actually be my hopeless romantic side of me kicking in each time something is happening, each time I get attention from a guy, a sweet guy.
To get back on track of the post, it's about this person who doesn't have the best reputation around town, not the best past when it comes to relationships, nor have the best current health. Sadly, when you hear things from friends, you tend to back off a little which doesn't give a good impression to the other person. Listening to everyone doesn't give you everything on the person you are interested in, and even if you know it yourself, your friends' judgments are important as well as your own because you want to trust them.
In my case, I'm still trying to make my own judgment, my own thoughts, and even if I see good in him, I have my friends around with their own sayings. Despite the fact that I adore learning more about someone by myself, I like to have some background on the person, knowing some dirt, and this time the dirt isn't that bad. And yet...
Should I listen to everyone? Should I listen to every bad comment? Every little thing everyone has to say about the person when I know my own reputation isn't the best either?
Everyone is entitled to their opinion. Everyone is entitled to share them with you, but the good news is that it is up to you if you want to take everything or not. Opinions are based on interpretations, people's interpretations. So why do we listen to them, why do we take them into consideration? Why do we care this much? Because humans care, humans need other's approbation and even if you try to ignore it, deep down you know you want to please others as well.
I personally try not to please everyone as I know I won't be able to do so, can't be liked by every single person on the planet, but what my friends say have to affect me in some ways. I get affected because I put some kind of trust in them, trust that wasn't easy to gain in the first place as I don't trust anyone. If you are one who takes it personally, please don't, it's unnecessary as I don't even trust my own mother, well, not entirely.
Hard to make your own opinion when you hear, listen to people, when you are living in a small town where everyone, almost everyone knows each other. When half of the population love to gossip around. My little issue is knowing that the guy who I appreciate and trust enough, isn't liked by my friends, isn't understood and somehow, despite the fact that everything is against him, my mother nor one of my bartender don't seem to have something against him at all. Well, to be fairly honest, it's my bartender who introduced me to him. Yes, my bartender, the one who doesn't want to see me leave the country, doesn't want me to go back home. The same bartender who is looking for my future husband, the same one who is always asking "When are you getting married?"
It is his fault if this guy and myself are always trying to see each other when we are at certain bars. It's the same bartender who has to tease me and the guy when we are sitting next to each other, telling us how a perfect couple we are in front of other customers. Talk about intimacy and friendship... That's nearly impossible when your bartender has to come in the way, teasing us nonstop about our relationship, the one which isn't there yet!
Indeed, my mother met the guy, (let's call him Connor even though it's completely different). My mother never saw anything bad about Connor, thought a good shave and a good haircut would make him look more handsome, his posture needs some improvement, but other than that, she saw something else... Something much deeper than appearance. My mother always needs to see what's behind the appearance. See what's makes the person themselves. The sweetness, the gentle way he had to look at me and her, the charming little smile he gave her as he shook her hand, shy and a bit sad. All she saw was the pain he had to endure. Not sure how she got that from seeing him for thirty minutes. I guess body language is more powerful than words. The entire time, my mother was sitting across from me, next to my friend, observing Connor, observing his every move, seeing how he was, how he observed back at us at certain moments. My mother doesn't come off as easy, just nice, too nice and trustworthy. She trusts too easily as well that's why I tend to not show her anyone, never make her meet that many people especially around my group of friends. But this time, she took all her energy not to trust Connor, to have a harder opinion of him, harder first impression.
Now, my opinion, my thoughts are in between two chairs. On one side, my friends who are harder to impress, harder on Connor, and then, the others who try to see the 'why' behind his actions, the more understandable ones. I'm between two different opinions, different views, and mine just happen to be blurry. Completely blurry. Making it difficult to see the right and the wrong.
Then again, you can't rely on anyone's judgements except yours as you will have to live with your own choice, not anyone else.
"A wise man makes his own decisions, an ignorant man follow the public opinion."
~Bella
Wednesday 30 May 2018
Thursday 17 May 2018
Now she's gone... So is he...
A few weeks later, the post is back... Sorry for not posting for a while, busy life has being in the way making it difficult to write, especially when the inspiration isn't around. Can't force it... So welcome back!
Have you ever dreamed of becoming famous? Be a wealthy lawyer? Have a pool in your home? Own a Ferrari? Dreamed of becoming the next best world dancer? Have a family with a dog? Own your own company?
A dream? A simple dream?
I sure had lots of them as a kid, and despite obstacles that life threw at me, I still have them to this day. My mother always told me to believe in them, to do whatever it takes to make them a reality, to believe in myself, but sadly, I never truly thought I was capable of much. Even my teachers, on my school year report card, "B... needs to believe in herself a bit more. She is capable of a lot, but lack of self-confidence is making her be in the back more often than the front..." And I will pass on the details of what they all thought of me. Apparently, I was doing acceptable work, but since I was lacking such self-esteem, my teachers always had something to say on the subject. It never helped me, I always took it as a bad comment for myself. The more they said it, the more they had to comment on the view I had on myself, the more they made it seem like something was wrong with me, the less I was going to think good things about myself... I never grew out of this insane loop, the twist is the more they would talk about my low-self-esteem, the more I was going to have it. It never helped.
Not only I had to read comments from teachers, but my father never truly supported my decisions, supported my dreams... Supported me in general. One could say "He did, what are you talking about? When you were playing piano, he was forcing you, putting you down as soon as you made a slight mistake, he was pushing you to do better." Not sure if that would be supporting me. To me, it felt more like a "need to be better" than " if you want to be better".
I can't argue with this, but you have to be in my shoes for just a second, and for that to happen, let me tell you a short story.
Once upon a time...
Just kidding, I won't start with the most common beginning.
"I can hear the mistake you just made, start from the beginning!" My father would tell me when my finger slipped on the wrong note. Yes, it would happen, a slight slide towards another note would be fatal, but I was careful, and still learning so I had excuses. For my father, it was a whole different story! I started piano when I was young, feeling the keys under my fingertips, being in control of what I was playing was quite a nice feeling altogether. I was a fast learning, and my piano teacher saw the opportunity to write new piano sheets for me, between the pop rock and the unbearable indie, alternative songs that I would love to listen to, he had work to do. My piano teacher was an amazing pianist, and he always managed to write music sheets according to my level. I think he was one of those people who sent me higher, telling me I was talented and if I continued I would do much more. But life got in the way, and once again a dream was cut short. Today, I don't own a piano, but still play around on hard surfaces, having melodies playing in my head, melodies which I haven't played in years, but only with my fingers playing around. The ones I would enjoy singing along to as they were famous pop-rock songs from an old French band. Yes, even at a young age, I was fascinated with oldies. I was never one for lessons, but if I had the chance to play something I loved, I would go right ahead. Going to school for piano wasn't a desire, but I could have got the chance to go if I desired, but that again, is one more lost cause. The day I change my mind on something set, it will be snowing in Santa Barbara, and let's be honest, I don't see that coming soon.
To get back to the short story, my father made my life a living nightmare when it came to practising. He would force me, put me down whenever he had the chance to, and even if I was performing well, no applause, no reactions just, "Continue" or "Start again". Talk about dictatorship... Playing piano was never a dream but it slowly became one. I dreamed of playing and owning my own grand piano, the long black ones. To play for hours even if I was awful at it, I would keep going. I lost a lot of my capacity over the years of non-playing. Each time I touch a piano, my mind goes directly to the bad comments that my father would say on each occasion.
Owning my own black long piano is a dream, and it could potentially happen, I'm not on my deathbed yet, I've got time, I hope I do, so I can make this dream come true..."
Dreams may sound like the wishes that are nearly impossible to do, to have, that's why they are called dreams. The things you wish you had, the things you could do, could say. The things that are in the back of your head, waiting for you to fall asleep to surface and send you to dreamland, the land of every possibility.
Tonight, my mother decided to message me, to tell me how she wants to see me happy even if that means not seeing me as much. As for the past few months now, I want to go to back to Europe, live there and not come back to the States. To finalise my stay back in Ireland where I belong. It's difficult when you don't belong in a country you don't understand others' life views. A country where half of the population is ignorant enough to make you think twice about why you started talking to them in the first place. Tough times, tough life, tough situations, it's only getting worse... The more I see and talk to people in Santa Barbara, the more I miss home, I miss Europe in general.
Even though I live in California, my mind is elsewhere, somewhere where I feel like home, feel like I belong there without asking myself questions. And with this, I started developing a dream, a goal of a sort. Own my little pub where there'll be books to read in the back of the little pub, sort of like a tea shop/ library. Combining three of my favourites, tea, pub, and books.
What my mother hasn't realised is my mind has set, and I won't change it, I will leave this country, this state and even if it doesn't make her happy, I know deep down, she'll understand. Not sure how I'll break the news to her, but I will... Somehow...
To conclude this post, if you have a dream, don't let anyone make you think twice about it. Just go for it, fight for it, believe in it and never give up because everything is possible if you set your mind to it.
Dreams are here for reasons, to give you hope, faith in yourself. Just don't let yourself down, don't cut yourself short because an obstacle is in the way. You never know what may come around, because if you haven't succeeded it just means it's still on its way to you. A little more time is required, that's all.
"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams." -Eleanor Roosevelt
~Bella
Have you ever dreamed of becoming famous? Be a wealthy lawyer? Have a pool in your home? Own a Ferrari? Dreamed of becoming the next best world dancer? Have a family with a dog? Own your own company?
A dream? A simple dream?
I sure had lots of them as a kid, and despite obstacles that life threw at me, I still have them to this day. My mother always told me to believe in them, to do whatever it takes to make them a reality, to believe in myself, but sadly, I never truly thought I was capable of much. Even my teachers, on my school year report card, "B... needs to believe in herself a bit more. She is capable of a lot, but lack of self-confidence is making her be in the back more often than the front..." And I will pass on the details of what they all thought of me. Apparently, I was doing acceptable work, but since I was lacking such self-esteem, my teachers always had something to say on the subject. It never helped me, I always took it as a bad comment for myself. The more they said it, the more they had to comment on the view I had on myself, the more they made it seem like something was wrong with me, the less I was going to think good things about myself... I never grew out of this insane loop, the twist is the more they would talk about my low-self-esteem, the more I was going to have it. It never helped.
Not only I had to read comments from teachers, but my father never truly supported my decisions, supported my dreams... Supported me in general. One could say "He did, what are you talking about? When you were playing piano, he was forcing you, putting you down as soon as you made a slight mistake, he was pushing you to do better." Not sure if that would be supporting me. To me, it felt more like a "need to be better" than " if you want to be better".
I can't argue with this, but you have to be in my shoes for just a second, and for that to happen, let me tell you a short story.
Once upon a time...
Just kidding, I won't start with the most common beginning.
"I can hear the mistake you just made, start from the beginning!" My father would tell me when my finger slipped on the wrong note. Yes, it would happen, a slight slide towards another note would be fatal, but I was careful, and still learning so I had excuses. For my father, it was a whole different story! I started piano when I was young, feeling the keys under my fingertips, being in control of what I was playing was quite a nice feeling altogether. I was a fast learning, and my piano teacher saw the opportunity to write new piano sheets for me, between the pop rock and the unbearable indie, alternative songs that I would love to listen to, he had work to do. My piano teacher was an amazing pianist, and he always managed to write music sheets according to my level. I think he was one of those people who sent me higher, telling me I was talented and if I continued I would do much more. But life got in the way, and once again a dream was cut short. Today, I don't own a piano, but still play around on hard surfaces, having melodies playing in my head, melodies which I haven't played in years, but only with my fingers playing around. The ones I would enjoy singing along to as they were famous pop-rock songs from an old French band. Yes, even at a young age, I was fascinated with oldies. I was never one for lessons, but if I had the chance to play something I loved, I would go right ahead. Going to school for piano wasn't a desire, but I could have got the chance to go if I desired, but that again, is one more lost cause. The day I change my mind on something set, it will be snowing in Santa Barbara, and let's be honest, I don't see that coming soon.
To get back to the short story, my father made my life a living nightmare when it came to practising. He would force me, put me down whenever he had the chance to, and even if I was performing well, no applause, no reactions just, "Continue" or "Start again". Talk about dictatorship... Playing piano was never a dream but it slowly became one. I dreamed of playing and owning my own grand piano, the long black ones. To play for hours even if I was awful at it, I would keep going. I lost a lot of my capacity over the years of non-playing. Each time I touch a piano, my mind goes directly to the bad comments that my father would say on each occasion.
Owning my own black long piano is a dream, and it could potentially happen, I'm not on my deathbed yet, I've got time, I hope I do, so I can make this dream come true..."
Dreams may sound like the wishes that are nearly impossible to do, to have, that's why they are called dreams. The things you wish you had, the things you could do, could say. The things that are in the back of your head, waiting for you to fall asleep to surface and send you to dreamland, the land of every possibility.
Tonight, my mother decided to message me, to tell me how she wants to see me happy even if that means not seeing me as much. As for the past few months now, I want to go to back to Europe, live there and not come back to the States. To finalise my stay back in Ireland where I belong. It's difficult when you don't belong in a country you don't understand others' life views. A country where half of the population is ignorant enough to make you think twice about why you started talking to them in the first place. Tough times, tough life, tough situations, it's only getting worse... The more I see and talk to people in Santa Barbara, the more I miss home, I miss Europe in general.
Even though I live in California, my mind is elsewhere, somewhere where I feel like home, feel like I belong there without asking myself questions. And with this, I started developing a dream, a goal of a sort. Own my little pub where there'll be books to read in the back of the little pub, sort of like a tea shop/ library. Combining three of my favourites, tea, pub, and books.
What my mother hasn't realised is my mind has set, and I won't change it, I will leave this country, this state and even if it doesn't make her happy, I know deep down, she'll understand. Not sure how I'll break the news to her, but I will... Somehow...
To conclude this post, if you have a dream, don't let anyone make you think twice about it. Just go for it, fight for it, believe in it and never give up because everything is possible if you set your mind to it.
Dreams are here for reasons, to give you hope, faith in yourself. Just don't let yourself down, don't cut yourself short because an obstacle is in the way. You never know what may come around, because if you haven't succeeded it just means it's still on its way to you. A little more time is required, that's all.
"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams." -Eleanor Roosevelt
~Bella
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