In friendship, growth and evolution

We grow. Every single day that we live, we grow in some way or other. It could be significant growth sometimes, other times not so much. But as time shifts, so do we. And it’s so important to let ourselves grow. I’ve used that word so much because over the past couple of days, I’ve had a chance to reflect on what growth means to me and how that meaning has changed over the years. I used to be a rigid person. Anyone who knew me knows that. But anyone who knows me now knows that I’m the furthest thing from rigid. Pretty much anything will fly with me these days, under the right circumstances. My growth has come with the lesson that everything under the sun depends. And with that knowledge has come freedom.

But as with any old habit, sometimes I find myself slipping back. Remains of my former rigidity still rear their big heads sometimes and force me to reflect and regroup.

I’ll let you in on my most recent episode of regression.

Friendship means the world to me. It’s at the very top of the list of priorities for me. I love fiercely. And naturally, that means some measure of protectiveness. But one of the many lessons I’ve picked up along the way, albeit difficult, is that love doesn’t occur in the same form for everyone. And not all love that’s given out will be reciprocated. I must say, this has been a very hard lesson for me. Very very hard. And I’ll admit that I still struggle with it sometimes. I find that the memories, which by the way are supposed to be treasures, hold me hostage. The evolution of friendship and relationships and how they change over time still gets to me. Why do good things change sometimes?

But while I was forced to ponder over that little disturbance for a fraction of a second, I also remembered how much I’ve changed and how different my needs are right now. And then I thought about all the people the universe has sent me over the years, particularly in the post-school period, and how monumental they all are in my life right now. And that made me relax a whole lot and forget about said disturbance.

It’s perfectly okay for each one of us to regroup from time to time. And it shouldn’t have to come with hard feelings.

Have a wonderful week good people!

Zeri xx

Midnight musings.

About a day or two ago, Liz shared a little note about directness and the role it plays in our lives, our relationships and our daily interactions and it got me thinking quite a bit.  Call it a virtual slap in the face, if you may. I used to be the most direct person on the planet.  Okay, maybe not, but really really direct anyway. Many of my friends can attest to that. But somewhere along the way, conversations got shorter, time more limited and life more complicated.

 As we go along, it becomes increasingly hard to say what we mean in 5 minutes or in 140 characters  (damn you, Twitter!) And so I’ve found myself postponing one too many conversations that I really should have, mentally promising to remember to have them if a chance of lengthy conversation ever presents itself. And I feel like a lot of my friendships are now a bunch of conversations that haven’t yet happened.

Why is so much demanding for our time these days? You do not realise how important quality time is until you sit down with your friends and instead of catching up (and I mean minute-by-minute since you last saw each other kind of catching up), you both type away at your phones while occasionally  taking a sip of your drinks or taking a bite of your meal. 


Why do we feel like we’ll die if we don’t get retweeted or if 200 more people do not follow us on social media ?  Why are we living our lives for the approval of others; strangers to whom we’re only as good as the next hot gossip? Why do we strive for their acceptance, all the while unintentionally rendering the ones who actually know and love us for what we really are when the internet is off the opportunity cost?  Why are we like this?

We are a suffering generation, you and I, and the sooner we realise this, the better. We’ve been infected by the illusions of the internet, which will  sooner or later morph into disillusionment because let’s face it, how much of that is real? Sure, we have many many virtual likes but how is that helping our lives?  How does it make me better? How does it make you better?

We need to think long and hard about this trend we’re developing and whether it’s really worth it.  Because one day, we’re all going to wake up and we’ll be all alone. You are more than what you tweet/snap/gram etc. Never forget that. Go out there and BE more.

If my life were a picture, it would be a pretty little house with a white picket fence and bush of white roses and a tree filled with birds chirping away. it would be in a secluded area on a hilltop somewhere away from the noise and congestion and traffic jam of the city. It would be peace and serenity. That one place everyone wants to live in but cant. So they resort to sour-graping and throwing stones, which by the way don’t even reach my little haven.

And then that force of nature you never see coming. Attractiveness, intelligence, charm, humor, experience and eccentricity all neatly packaged together. It takes you by storm. No amount of preparedness can protect you. It’s all-knowing and wise -anticipating your next move even before you know you’re going to make it. Hurricane Veronica. She’ll destroy everything she comes into contact with. Your life, your happiness, your innocence and then some. Your heart is just a victory belt; proof that she came, saw and conquered. She’s stronger with every conquest. Calculating and selfish. If blue is what you want, blue is what she’ll be.

“but the white picket fence!” you almost shout as you tear it apart, “wasn’t it supposed to protect me? wasn’t it supposed to keep humanity’s ugliness out?” you almost shout. The world stops spinning for a fraction of a second, appalled by your naive innocence.

and then you realize the picket fence would have kept the boogieman out, if only you’d seen past his sparkling clothes and colgate smile. but you didn’t  You let the boogieman in.

so with your tail between your legs, you pick up a hammer and some nails and start to rebuild your white picket fence.