This one time I painted a living room with a girl.
This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.
But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that – more often than not – she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.
Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.
That’s what love is. Attention to detail.
And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate each other at the end. And you might walk away from each other one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.
But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.
She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.
She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time.
She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.
But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:
One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that – gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.
And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.
Bought a new camera today and didn’t have a chance to go out and take photos so I had to try taking photos in my room and it sucked. Anyway, I have to find a nice day with fabulous weather and go do some shooting. My Visual Communication class. I’m terrified right now. It isn’t like what I imagined it would be. I didn’t have a lot of expectation for this paper honestly. I think I might fail, even though this is only the first week of uni *sobbing*. However, I have to try my best. We never know what’s around the corner, don’t we? I created another WordPress blog to put all my work from that paper on and from now on, I have to keep up really hard with that page. It’s one of the criteria for the marking.
So here they are, my “taken indoors” photos. The first photos taken with my new camera.
The big drawing of EffeilTower hung up in my wall. It actually makes me feel like I’m living in an old apartment in Paris as every morning when I wake up, the first thing I see is the picture.
Such a weird hobby that sometimes I collect clothes tags and stick them on the window curtain. I learnt that habit from him, but he’s now just somebody I used to know. little one.
Yes, I used to be somebody’s little one.
Photos on the closet sliding door. If I move out one day, I’ll have to clean up that mess. Will be a pathetic sight to see.
Another picture in the room.
Sunset behind the house.
Me, myself and moi 😛
Weird thought. I’m so wanting to move . I don’t like this place so much anymore. Have I ever liked it? Maybe I did. Just a little when he was here. I need a bigger place, well, not necessarily bigger but I want a place with open space, which gives me more air and sunlight. I need trees too…
It’s not easy to move now. I need to find a place which is close to bus stops and shops because I don’t drive.
Silly me. Clumsy me. Useless me.
I’ll move, sooner or later. Just need to sort something out first. Fingers crossed.
Craving some tropical fruits. I’m dying to see Thailand. I’m hoping that I can go at the end of this year. Street food. Tropical fruits. Tropical weather. Monsoon. Busy places. Chaos. Wow, feel like I’m living again. So exciting!!!
I miss you but I won’t reply to your texts anymore. I did this morning and I regretted it later. “Don’t answer”. That’s your name in my phone now.
Be strong. Be strong. Be strong.
Don’t answer. Don’t answer. Don’t answer.
It’s 14th Feb tomorrow. Suck my duck. I DON’T CARE!!!