Tuesday, July 03, 2007

love, body, soul

I'm ambivalent about what I should write about. And also about whether I should even be writing at all. It's 1 AM and I have 2 long days waiting ahead. Workdanceworkdancework. All I could look forward to is 3 weeks from now when everything's done. Done done done. Major project done and Urban Pulse done. I'm so occupied I can't even find the time to sell off the 2 extra tickets I have on 3rd row. Sob.

Anyhow. That's not really the point. I'm gonna start with a more frivolous discussion first about one's body. Basically right, it's pretty difficult to 'have it all'. Either you're booby and flabby or you're toned and have peas up there. I hadn't shed all the weight I gained back in UK up til now and as such, I had thunder thighs but up there they were doin' good (tho sadly in the sorry single state that I am, I'm the only person who could respectfully admire them). But then I fell sick for two weeks. I coughed my lungs out and apparently phlegm dissolves fat because half of my tummy disappeared. Sadly flesh in other areas disappeared as well which made me wary that the VS stuff I ordered would not fit. Cue frantic attempts at drinking milk, milk and more milk before order gets here!

Love is even trickier. I've been pondering over it and I've come to the sad conclusion that maybe, just maybe, I've never really loved anyone. Be in love? Sure. I bet you my painful purple pumps that everyone has fallen in and out of love, and then in and out again, countless of times. But loving someone is a different thing.

How could you say you love someone when the person irritates you sometimes? How could 'love' dissipate with distance? How could 'love' catalyses fantastic quarrels which end up in fantastic make-up's? That's passion, that's being in love. It's not exactly love, is it?

After thorough research (you know, like, in my head), I conclude that LOVE is that thing that fades into dull, monotonous routine as you get old together. It's the routine where a crazy moment makes you attempt to make love when you're both in your sixties, but have to stop after 2 minutes because he strained his back. And in the end you spend the rest of the night taking a slow stroll outside so that he could catch his breath.

It's just that thing that makes you feel the compulsion to give each other kisses sometimes, even though your lips feel dry and wrinkled and your teeth are all shaky. You see, it's not the sensation at the moment that is wonderful about the kiss. It's the memories that the action jolts to remembrance. The beautiful giddy days of being IN love, the eloped weddings, the stupid alcohol-imbued tattooing of each other's names, the crazy can't-get-enough-of-you youthful libido.

Love is patient, love is kind, love is comfortable, love is simple, love is also boring.

But you don't mind it anyway because it's, well, love.

I guess that's just my interpretation. Jaded, because none of my relationships have been straightforward. There've always been complications. I pray to God it will be simpler in future. I'm sick and tired of 'passionate' quarrels and games. I want something real and solid. And now the waiting begins.

PS: Yingzhou is hot even though he is balding!