A Random Monii

Christmas and my birthday have come and gone, and New Year’s is on it’s way. My dad left a week or so ago and two more guests arrive tomorrow. But right now the silly festivals aren’t really holding my attention.

Instead, I have a boy problem. “Why, Monii!” I hear you cry, “How can you have a boy problem when you’ve never even kissed one?” Well, the internet can be a very personal place, once you add things like instant messaging, VOIP and webcams into the mix. Basically, I end up wanting to be in the life of someone unattainable. And not just because of the distance, either.

So I pose my well-worn question once again: Is it alright to change your entire life for someone, just to get a shot at being with them? Especially someone so far away, who would be way out of my range anyway?

I don’t know. If I did know, I wouldn’t be blogging about it. Instead, I’d be out getting on with my life or, alternately, changing my life and seeking out the guy. Maybe I just find it hard to let go. But I’m going to have to eventually, whether I like it or not. The idea of letting go, going on to university, finding another lovely guy that’s close to home and ending up with him seems impossible to me right now.

Oh. I also matriculated with two A’s. Exams= Pwned. Seems like I’m going to Uni after all. Now, all I need to do is sort out my emotional problems so that I’m a perfect shiny youth all-round, yes?

I have come to the realization today that I still haven’t figured myself out. I hunger not, in honesty, for material wealth. Though I’d love to have more money, it’s not what I truly want. I hunger for things that are not real, for flights of fantasy and my imaginings. For alternate lives, made-up realities. My wants are not grounded in this life, or perhaps not even in the next.

I find myself wanting most the things that could not be in this world. I want magic and flying and all the things I read about, I want to be with people that have never existed, I want to live in a place unlike this reality.

I want to walk in moonlit woods, feeling the wolf I have bonded with pounce his prey.

I want to spy for the king while I dance with the lesser nobility, wearing a glittering gown.

I want to stand to attention on a well-scrubbed deck, swaying as I slowly gain my sea-legs.

I won’t bore you with a million more examples, but I’ve secretly hungered for this all of my life. Maybe all of these alternate realities in my mind are what pushed me to start writing- creating stories isn’t difficult when you have multitudes of lives happening in your head.

If I force myself to think of things I want in relation to this life, however, my want is very simple. I only want people to love me, to appreciate my good qualities and love me despite the bad. This, unlike my complex imaginings, is very plain. But I still hunger for that as badly as I want things that could never be. Often I will find myself with a deep need to get approval from certain people in my life, similar to a young child or a puppy who looks for attention. I can easily find myself in situations where I would do anything for a simple nod or a smile. Obviously, this want is more a weakness than a strength of mine, and I do my best to hide it. I know that these people I want to impress do not think like me, and do not think much of giving their attention to me. The fact that I am willing to do something for this ‘nothing’ makes it very dangerous.

But I can’t help it. I seek affection almost endlessly, though I am careful to hide this as much as I can. Don’t worry too much, readers, I’m not likely to change myself to seek approval- I want people to like /me/, not some fabrication. I’m over that hurdle- in the past I have lied in order to gain attention. I have learned hard lessons in regards to that, and the idea repulses me these days. Even though my lying habit has been killed, my hunger for affection and love remains. Yes, affection and love are different in my eyes. Affection is something you show to something that currently has your favour- a student that scores well in a test because of your training, a pet that sits obediently at your feet, a child that has amused you unknowingly with an innocent comment. It runs no deeper than that interaction, and can quickly be turned aside by some new fancy. Love is different, we all have different definitions of it but by no means is it what I consider ‘affection’.

So perhaps, even though I can’t get those things my imagination desires the most (despite the fact that I won’t let go of my dreams yet), maybe I can find more affection in this world for me. Maybe even love, if I try hard enough.

“War, it ain’t nothing but a heartbreaker
War, friend only to the undertaker
Peace, love and understanding
Tell me, is there no place for them today
They say we must fight to keep our freedom
But Lord knows there’s got to be a better way” - War, EDWIN STARR

My sister has do to an essay in school on the topic of “[Insert Religion Here]: War and Peace”. She chose Christianity because our family is Christian and she thought it would be easiest to do it from her own perspective. It got me thinking on the whole concept of war.

I must admit that I’m enthralled by the idea of war. I even admitted recently that if it weren’t for the harsh physical training and the danger, I’d be thrilled to go and join an army. Living with people, forming a unit under harsh conditions, fighting against A Common Enemy. Conflict is central to the human race, and a war is as much conflict as we can come up with. As a writer the idea intrigues me endlessly.

The gaming industry seems to have an addiction to World War II games- Medal Of Honor, Call Of Duty, Soldiers: Heroes of WWII and Battlefield 1942 come to mind (check out Wikipedia’s “World War II Video Games” page by clicking here. That’s a lot of games). That’s excluding the massive sway counter-terrorist games have held in the last 5 years- Counterstrike and Tom Clancy’s Rainbow Six, anyone?

And the gaming industry bosses and me aren’t the only ones- the word is hooked on war. Aside from the obvious War In Iraq, the sole reason I am glad I’m living in South Africa (as we aren’t touched directly by the whole messy business), war is reflected everywhere. It always has been, from the start of time. Your grandfather’s generation played with toy soldiers and your generation plays with virtual soldiers. Or real soldiers.

But is war morally right? Let’s see what the internet says.

Christians seem to be divided in half on this issue. Various parties believe that war can be justified in certain circumstances (The Just War Theory), such as terrorism. The Just War theory believes that war should not involve inocents, and if innocents are getting hurt then people with ‘legitimate authority’ should step in to stop it. It is our Christian responsibility to make sure that innocents do not suffer. As a side note, this includes attacks on unarmed civilian buildings. I’m looking at you, Iraq War.

On the other hand, many bloggers out there believe that war shouldn’t happen for any excuse. They use Bible readings such as Matthew 26:47-53, Romans 12:9-21 and Matthew 5:38-48 to justify this stance, stating that Jesus never condoned violence and neither should his followers. See this article from the National Catholic Reporter, and this article from the Collegian, Missisuri Baptist University.

What do I think? Why would anyone want to hurt anyone else, especially physically? It’s not the ‘Christian’ thing to do, and it’s certainly not the Monii thing to do. Virtual violence, along with many other things we end up doing in games, is good for entertainment and stress relief- but that doesn’t mean that it’s right to do these things for real.

That’s right, ladies and gents. Today, for the first time in my life, studied! Geography, to be exact, as I have my Geog. final exam tomorrow.

And you know what? It wasn’t that bad.  I almost enjoyed it.

While I was on a snack break, I had a banana. And I stared at it. And I thought that the banana was awesome proof that there is a God out there. Because otherwise, I mean, nature was awfully nice to evolve a fruit that requires digits to peel and eat, wasn’t it?  It’s those little moments that I appreciate.

Control.

Growing up.

There is no spoon, Neo.

So tell me. Is it worth living a lie in order to make people happy? In order to be happy yourself? In order to find the life you feel that you’ve wanted forever?

Or would lying cancel all of that out?

Today is one year since my mom passed away. That makes me very entitled to random, awkward outbursts and being very emo indeed. Here are some reflections.

For me, her passing (geez, I hate that phrase. Sounds like some kind of bowel movement) wasn’t a huge shock. I had been living for three years knowing it was going to happen, and a year /waiting/ for it to happen. For the last 6 months before her death I had been longing for it to happen. Seeing someone you love wither away like that is heartbreaking. And she wasn’t just someone that I loved. She was beautiful and charming and I could feel myself slowly start to become like her. She lied for me, she took hits for me, and she put up with all of my crap, even when she got so sick.

The years while she was sick are just one big blur for me. I moved house 3 times in 3 years. I’d stay home with mom instead of going out with friends or relatives, to make sure she was ok. I’d wait for her to get home and help her to bed when she’d been out in the pub all night with her friends, trying to forget that she was sick. And sometimes, when it got really bad, I remember picking her off the floor and climbing into bed beside her, telling and re-telling the stories I used to read. My mom always loved me telling the ones where the girl grew up to be a Knight, or the ones where she could fly.

Looking back, I knew she was going to die. I just never thought about it. I just assumed that I’d keep living a quasi-parental role with no real guardian. I never thought what would happen to me once she’d passed away. Even while she was in the hospice, looking gaunt with her abdomen all distended. When I didn’t want to visit her because she looked so awful. When I was so embarassed the one time we took her out to a restaurant because she was so high on medication. Through all of it, I never thought about the next step.

I did my English GCSE exam the morning after I heard the news, and did just fine. I didn’t cry, my best friend brought me coffee and chocolate to school instead.

And that was just how I lived. While my relatives fell into crying heaps I’d rather lie on my bed, thinking about religion and death and story plots. People started to become concerned that I “wasn’t crying”, and even today I get targeted by well-meaning people who tell me that it’s ok to be sad. I was sad that she’d died, I just wasn’t ready to throw myself off a bridge.

I did feel like it wasn’t fair, though. How could a woman who had come through so much, who had (I can tell people now) lied in job interviews to get positions, had the worst personal life imaginable… how could someone survive through over 40 years of life and then wham, be cut down by cancer and be dead before I was 17?

This world is absolutely terrifying when you think of it like that. Why bother trying if you’re going to wind up dead anyway? A friend of mine told me that little in this world is as important as trying. I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.

So here’s to one year. A year where I moved back to Africa (which I thought would never happen), a year where I became someone whose parent was dead (and with my parents divorced I also became someone else’s “ward”), and a year where my best friends helped me live where I might not have wanted to otherwise.

Also, a year where I got bloody good GSCE results. It’s good to know I can work under pressure.