Curious

I have some questions to ask you readers.

First, have you ever dreamt of something so intense (for lack of a better word) that you woke up crying/sobbing? I’ve had a few of those dreams, the most recent being on Friday evening. I woke on Saturday morning crying and, for some reason, continued sobbing even though I was already awake. I can remember bits and pieces of the dream and while I was feeling hurt in the dream, it wasn’t as if I dreamt of death or dying. And like I said, this was not the first time.

Second, have you ever felt like interrupting people just because you want to help them out? Like when people are debating about routes, or where to get something, how to get somewhere etc, and you are dying to share what you know, to help them save time, cut down on journey time, or even save money? I’m no maven and I sure don’t know a lot of things but there are times when I want badly to share what I do know especially when I hear conversations like that around me. Would I be interpreted as a busybody? I’m aware that not everyone appreciates being informed of things (in fact there’s a person to whom I sometimes suggest certain work shortcuts – nothing illegal, you understand - to improve work but who still prefers doing things her own way and I take it she’s just not interested). What about you? What would you do? Would you just keep quiet and hope they will ask you for advice, would you try to offer advice, or would you just walk away and hope they’d figure it out themselves?

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Watched The Ugly Truth on DVD some weekends ago; it’s one of those just-okay rom-coms and I’m glad I didn’t fork out money to catch it at the theatre (why Gerard Butler?). It’s about Abby, the accomplished but romantically incompetent producer who enlisted the help of Mike, the host of the titular TV show, to help her land a neighbour she fancies. Mike has an emotional maturity of an adolescent and believes that the ugly truth is that men are sex-crazed beings and it’s the woman’s job to accommodate this. Abby finds Mike disgusting (as did I) while he in turn finds she is a control freak.

One line caught my attention towards the end, i.e. when Abby told Colin (the doctor who fell for her carefully-crafted image) this: ‘I couldn’t show you any of that. Because who would love somebody like that? No one.’ And it got me thinking how far true this statement is. With me, what you see is what you get. I don’t believe in pretending to be someone I’m not: after all the true colours of a person will show up sooner or later anyway. Yes, the ugly truth about me is that I’m flawed, have OCD, sensitive, emotional, have a short fuse, just to name a few but better you know it now than later. Better you know my true colours than me feeling guilty for letting you think otherwise.

Yes, it’s hard to love someone like me but I like to think that someone can still love me regardless, and love me for who, how and what I am, not what they wish I am or think I should be. Because then it’ll be conditional love, right?

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What do you do after you lost a match (or made an error in the context of everyday life)? Do you do a post-mortem or an analysis of what went wrong? Or do you blame everyone else - the referee, the opponents, even another manager altogether – but yourself? Like gaffer, like player. You’re a wretched excuse of a player, Fletcher. Moan United!