escapism
noun.
the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities, esp. by seeking entertainment or engaging in fantasy.
I must say I am feeling better. The pain caused by high heels, dependability and sleepless nights has diminished. I am not the overworked and underbred goal-determined bitch anymore. I have noticed I can be funny, even to myself sometimes, and I am happy to kind of start new and welcome the good old pretty-witty uncomplicated me.
Just when you think you have successfully escaped from it all, rented out your flat (together with the turtle in it), come to a foreign country where no one knows you and where you could basically say what ever about yourself, like that you have seven sisters or that you are allergic to parsley just to avoid it on your plate, BOOM! someone unintendedly reveals the facelift by casually asking you if you are a control freak. While cutting parsley, by the way. (Just a side remark - I loathe parsley). Can it be that this me still shows? Or – could escaping from yourself be merely a fantasy and the reality be that you never change?
When I was a child and boys at school teased me for my curly hair my mother used to tell me that everything goes by – unfortunately also the good things. I have believed in it ever since and it is rather effective on really bad things like PMS or havig your (or someone else’s) heart broken.
The parsley-guy then asked me if I new what I wanted from life. (No, no hope for an ever lasting marriage, he is gay, you see). And you know what – I think I do know what I want. I want to be able to say just that. I want to have the liberty of suffering from slight burnouts and enjoy the escapism once in a while. I want to keep the control over not having control sometimes. I want to get my heart broken from time to time and I definitely want to always have people like the parsley-guy around to remind you who you really are.
The reality is, we have these fantasies about the person we could and should be but we are seen through eventually, no matter your postal address. And what the heck if I am indeed a control freak – as long as I am not bitchy, stressed out and very ugly, I might just go ahead and enjoy my escapism. And as long as funny and witty people like the parsley-guy bother to ask you complicated questions you should be happy.
Just a side remark – I freak out when I feel that my heart might get broken. And I only have one but a very pretty sister.
the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities, esp. by seeking entertainment or engaging in fantasy.
I must say I am feeling better. The pain caused by high heels, dependability and sleepless nights has diminished. I am not the overworked and underbred goal-determined bitch anymore. I have noticed I can be funny, even to myself sometimes, and I am happy to kind of start new and welcome the good old pretty-witty uncomplicated me.
Just when you think you have successfully escaped from it all, rented out your flat (together with the turtle in it), come to a foreign country where no one knows you and where you could basically say what ever about yourself, like that you have seven sisters or that you are allergic to parsley just to avoid it on your plate, BOOM! someone unintendedly reveals the facelift by casually asking you if you are a control freak. While cutting parsley, by the way. (Just a side remark - I loathe parsley). Can it be that this me still shows? Or – could escaping from yourself be merely a fantasy and the reality be that you never change?
When I was a child and boys at school teased me for my curly hair my mother used to tell me that everything goes by – unfortunately also the good things. I have believed in it ever since and it is rather effective on really bad things like PMS or havig your (or someone else’s) heart broken.
The parsley-guy then asked me if I new what I wanted from life. (No, no hope for an ever lasting marriage, he is gay, you see). And you know what – I think I do know what I want. I want to be able to say just that. I want to have the liberty of suffering from slight burnouts and enjoy the escapism once in a while. I want to keep the control over not having control sometimes. I want to get my heart broken from time to time and I definitely want to always have people like the parsley-guy around to remind you who you really are.
The reality is, we have these fantasies about the person we could and should be but we are seen through eventually, no matter your postal address. And what the heck if I am indeed a control freak – as long as I am not bitchy, stressed out and very ugly, I might just go ahead and enjoy my escapism. And as long as funny and witty people like the parsley-guy bother to ask you complicated questions you should be happy.
Just a side remark – I freak out when I feel that my heart might get broken. And I only have one but a very pretty sister.
tinkerblond - 12. Jun, 22:32
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