This week has been an insanely busy one. I lost track of the day mid-week and kept thinking Tuesday was Wednesday, Wednesday was Thursday… you get the picture. Homework has started piling, workload has significantly increased and course materials are becoming (seemingly) harder that this weekend won’t be fun. I’ve got so much catching up to do, it depresses me to just think about the things I need to do tomorrow and Sunday.
Too many things I want to write about, as usual, but time is simply not on my side. And when it is, I’m dead tired which basically amounts to the same thing. Did Heirs finally première this week? How did it fair, ratings-wise after all that promotional hype which lasted for half a year plus? Did Unemployed Romance actually debuted last weekend, without my notice? Is it true the slew of fall Jdramas include Nishikido Ryo and KimuTaku lineups?
Here’s what I’m learning or perhaps more appropriately, what I’m remembering – there’s life beyond dramas.
On one hand I don’t see the need for an apology, on the other there’s really only so much pessimism one can put up with. For that reason, I apologize for being a wet blanket more times I can count, this year alone. I apologize, truly, for being the sour grape who’s stuck in this vicious cycle of bitching about everything and nothing. I apologize for raining on your happy parades with my overly dramatic, emotional outpourings. I apologize for writing about the same things – the slump. The not-watching. The pessimism. The negativity. Endless string of words which drive home the same damn point:
I am not okay.
I am a lover of fiction, that much is true. Whether fiction appears in books, screens or performed live, generally I gobble it with enthusiasm and openness. At the moment however… Real Life is so strikingly present, encompassing and overwhelming that I’ve finally quit watching dramas. Nothing this week, not bothered and not wanting to.
No amount of cotton-candy fluff, intense and heightened thrillers, mindfucked chess games or witty insights can trump the facets of what’s real – everything that reality is, which dramas don’t allude to. Bad boys on motorbikes to save the day don’t just magically appear at the nick of time; grief is not a beautiful, easily understandable process; conversations don’t continue seamlessly without awkward, stilted silences; loved ones can’t and aren’t always there for you when you need them most; no one fucking picks up when you desperately need that listening ear; loneliness is most felt in a room now filled with familiar faces; tears aren’t witnessed by anyone but the darkness of your four-walls and the most frustrating yet undeniably true reality check: one does one’s own saving.
Forget knights in shining armor, or princesses with arrows and bows – you are your own prince and princess.
No… I am. I am. I am my own prince and princess.
It is up to me, every fucking time, to do my own saving.
& dramas, fuck dramas – they don’t teach you that. They don’t teach me that.
In the torrid of this present-day, I’ve decided: I do not want to be its pupil.
There is a time and place for everything, or so I’m told. Everything comes to an end eventually, that much you and I both know to be true. Alas, when the dust settles and something finally gives in, perhaps then that’ll be as clear a sign as any that my internal clutter no longer translates externally. Perhaps fiction can once more marry fact.
The leaves have turned red, the wind is chillier than it was just last week; I’m raising my white flag.