Elevated In Self-Indulgent Glories

Tuesdays are the bane of my existence.

It is the close relative of the woefully, mundane Mondays where people are still trying to recover getting hungover from fleetingly promises of Sundays however pretends to be cool by being closer to the weekend by a day. However Tuesdays seems to superficially add onto the hope of getting some well-needed rest but piling on the phoned in nature that everyone has. A day of misfortunes is imminent on Tuesdays where reprieve is distant and much needed.

Admittedly a lot of of my Tuesdays are generally spent in the bathroom stalls of where I happen to be situated. Work, school or the odd occasion I present at a lecture or special event. This is not a comment on the status of my bowels (I am proud to say, which are in tip top shape if anyone was curious) but panicking anxieties I have by trying to make use of my time without being “too” social. Socialisation for me is a working progress not dissimilar to any proud, self-indulgent and diagnosed tumblr activist who enjoys (for whatever reason rabidly enjoys homoerotic romances despite being incapable of seeing the hypocrisy of objectification while labelling oneself as a feminist) discussing the next “cool” mental disorder to have.

One fundamental rule or life lesson I’ll highlight right now: no matter how fancy the place or how sophisticated you think the people are;  many do not flush after themselves or wash their hands after they have done their “business”. While I had not formally generated peer-assessed research, through pure observation alone – from the most dingiest of places to highly revered places, this has been true. What to take from this? I’ll leave that up to you.  Why did I go on this tangent? God if I knew, I probably would be wiser and omit this fact.

Tuesdays are the lands of disparity and tragic inefficiency. For me, it is padded with spare hours; enough to get quite bored but not enough to do anything truly productive. It is also a day where one feels that many have a predisposition to “half-ass” their responsibilities. Perhaps they share the despair I feel on these tumultuous Tuesdays. It wasn’t always the case. I’d remember one of the innocuous discussions I had with friends when in my days of youth that Tuesdays was my favourite day. Something about Norse Mythology that seemed rather cool, I forget now in my years living in what’s equivalent to mid-life in the times of Jane Austen. And on that note, still single and still in occupations listed on my metaphorical resume; the relationships expert and counsellor to those probably less lost than I am. Isn’t that ironic? To seek the advice of those who have even less than you? What’s with that?

I suppose I don’t really have much to complain. I rather enjoy the daily squabbles and foibles of romances I experience vicariously. I don’t imagine myself being any better, but hopefully through my impeccable analytical skills and second-hand recounts and interpretations, I hope to be well equipped to not complain too much about the state of toilet seats or confessing truthfully why I believe multiculturalism is a double-edged sword, but optimistically believe would be one that would carve and cut through tensions through discourse and a recall to common courtesy and standards (I’m a little old fashioned that way). For any future suitors – be prepared for lots of discussions about philosophy and about the future of the world. Visits to museums, a propensity to sing and embarrass oneself shamelessly are other warning signs. If those are your kryptonite, then  I suggest you move FAR, FAR away.

Digressions aside, it’s not that one has had little experience of romance or has lacked consideration towards the prospects of it. Rather the opposite where many conversations will predictably go towards such topics. What is a soulmate? What would you do in this predictable romantic comedy scenario? Have you ever thought of having a family? Do you like anybody? How long will you live out your days as a lovable misanthrope?

To all these questions:

  • A soulmate is what I’d imagine someone you get along with so well, to the point that you have the thought “where has this person been all my life? And how can I prolong sustained periods of having them continue to become part of my life? (Probably not in those words for the next google search).
  • Depends on the context. But most of the time the answer is “You’re better off telling them how you feel rather than leaving it and never knowing how they feel back”. 
  • After reflection of my own family life – I would consider knocking my head with a brick before thinking of starting one. 
  • Subjective terms like “like” are difficult to clarify. I certainly do “like” people, but I am quite selective and do not easily “warm to people” despite appearances. In a romantic sense, no I do not. (As of now). I am open to life’s opportunities but fear that my future partner will suffer incessant headaches from my consistently bad Whitney Houston impressions and my valiant protests to bring back Dairy Bell’s Banana Split ice cream for Supermarkets. 
  • And finally; I will live out as that as long as I still fall under that category in which I really do not fall under. However, thanks for the compliment. 

Perhaps now, when people wish to pry into my private life and my feelings on the matter of love, this will give some clarity to the curious. Although that being sad, I am far duller than Teen Mom, which as a plug – gives great insight delving into the struggles of why sexual education is important.


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