27th April 2000

I will remember you,
Will you remember me
Don't let your love pass you by,
Weep not for, the memories

I'm running out of holidays. My best friend thinks I've slipped into the morosity cycle and I'm spiralling downward into obliviaaaannnnnn. Truth is, I'm not, so quit worrying. I'll write the same in my email, but thanks so much for worrying :) I've just stopped running and realised well, certain solutions aren't really solutions at all, like running away. Making things out to be what they're not. Making people out to be what they're not. (Making love, out of nothing at all - that's the mp3 playing right now)

Been pondering people a little recently. I'm a cynic, I know that. Not a true-blue cynic, but sort of a half-way cynic with inclinations towards idealism and romanticism. Some of the people I know aren't "real" people. They're one-dimensional, they have basic needs and wants and will do anything to achieve those needs and wants. They don't think about other people, they live for themselves and speak at people, not to people. They make fashionable noises and voice opinions they think are original, eg being antiChrist or anti-government, but they just come across as sad, lost people who want to be different. And fail. There are other people who aren't real either, the ones who are "too nice". Too perfect. Too try-hard. Too good, too clean. None of us is squeaky clean, we can but try. When I meet excessively nice, sweet, wonderful people who shine on everyone around them my first instinct is to stay silent and observe. And wonder what their secret pain is that spurs them into trying so hard to impress the world with the obviously beautiful people they are, the little Mr and Miss perfects. Of course not all of them are, some are genuine, but most aren't. Most just want to be seen as good, kind, happy, wonderful people. I haven't ever seen anyone as "perfect" - yeah best buddy read this carefully. My previous article spoke of "good and clean" - but it sure wasn't "perfect". Multifacted, with sides far from nice and sweet. That's what it takes to form contours in my mind, of a person and render him or her "real" to me. They're good if the underlying nature is good and unselfish and giving, but the packaging may be complex with sides that aren't sweet and endearing. But if the packaging is beautiful and wholesome but the underlying essence is just emptiness, or selfishness, then they're not good people at all, and they're not "real" to me. People who abandon friendships for silly, trivial reasons, and never look back. There're precious few people who are "real" to me, and those are the ones I trust with my true friendship.

Verve's saying I can change I can change I can change... but can we? Are we really a million different people from one day to the next. I think change is immensely hard once you've got a routine, once you do things a certain way. In real life I don't even pretend to be nice on the outside. I slag people off and take the mick. Not caustically of course, and it's all in jest, but I do it and I enjoy it. Sometimes people don't realise I'm joking and feel hurt and then little disasters occur that I've got to smooth out. But I don't sit there and smile and breathe "helloooo it's so niceeeeeeee to see youuuuuuu" airily. I get this ridiculous urge to throttle girls who do that, and smile blankly at you and ooze niceness from all their pores. But I find myself listening if anyone needs me to, even when I know full well I'm being used, or if I'm missing out on doing something else for myself that I really should be. It's a routine, a habit. And I think a good one, that I don't want to change. But the other darker habits I, and the rest of us have... can we change those? I'm still trying.

Anna's coming over in September. It's the event of the year for me, the one thing to look forward to. Even more exciting than the surgery rotation (oh joy! wonder! cutting up real live people at last! ugh) Anna's one of the few people I still laugh around, although I haven't been "around" her much in the years I've known her... strange thing, is life.

What do you see first in a person? I don't know about you, but I see a person's eyes. I don't know that I can magically read what kind of person they are from their eyes, or even that the eyes really are the windows of the soul, but I look into their eyes and have a vague half-instinct about who they might be, and it's sometimes wrong, but I do it anyway. And that's what I remember best about people, their eyes. And their body language. Not so much their faces or the length of their hair, or the clothes they wear. I'm awful that way, I can never remember a face, only pretend to.

She's got Bette Davis eyes.