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Saturday, May 13, 2006

All drugged up

I'd started a new post last week, had two thick paragraphs done when my mother came in without knocking and refused to leave. So that was the end of that; my own fault for trying to post during the day.

I've been sick lately and the doctor thought it was asthma but the inhaler hasn't been helping much; he also thought it could be allergies, but the allergy meds aren't helping either. So I'm going back to see him Tuesday since it seems to be an infection. I hate being sick. I guess everyone does, I'm just a big baby over it, maybe because I'm lucky enough to normally be quite healthy.

The post I started last week was a rant on arranged marriage and how I hate being forced to pretty myself up to impress some guy I don't even know. Nothing new there, just cliche brown girl stuff. I hate being a cliche.

1 Comments:

  • At 11:07 PM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

    "I hate being a cliche."

    And when I read that I realised that was exactly what I hated about this whole thing - that, goddamit, I try and do things I care about, things that mark me as being different, that I try and excel at the things I choose to excel at - that I try not to be the average brown girl, the one who goes home everyday and sucks it up and gets married to the average brown guy, the one you met on the day of the wedding.
    And here I am trying to be something new and the oldest, most tired, most pathetic cliche of them all is dragging me down, sapping the light out of my days, so that I'm reduced to burying myself in music and books, seeking temporary relief from the goddamn boringness of it all.

    So how is it, that boringness can still break hearts, mine in particular?

    Cliches should be dismissable. Should be colourless and weak. Should be.


    And maybe one day we will get married to men we chose and we'll exchange war stories. The brown girls will grow up, maybe one day, and look back at the cliches, the cliches they escaped, and laugh.
    Maybe our battle scars will one day be only that: just scars and not open gaping wounds.

    Goddamit.

    But until then, we fall back on another cliche: just take one day at a time.

     

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