Pulled and puller

(yeah, I'm aware the title makes no sense whatsoever. You may sue.)

To start with a truism: in life, on this planet, there are ambitious people, and then there are complacent people. Fair enough, right?

Sometimes, you hear about a friend, or whatever - someone from your entourage - who hooked up with someone who is rather different from your friend, in terms of life dreams, in terms of drive, of what they want to accomplish - or even what their definition of "accomplishment" is. Or maybe we're talking about a pair of very good friends, but it's still a "relationship" in the end.

(I'm purposely discarding the XX / YY relationships (ambitiousXambitious / complacentXcomplacent). They're another Mary with another hat altogether *hah for Romanian ancestral wisdom*. I firmly believe the latter are not meant to last, or are meant to disintegrate into mediocrity, while the former will produce sparks which are pleasing to the eye, even though they end up burning the performers to a crisp. 'Nuff said.)

So we end up with two people who are in it together for the long haul, with one running slightly ahead of the other. Every time. Overall. Myeah.

I was analyzing myself, and how I'm always, joyfully, preppily [sic?] grasping at the driver's role. I run. I pull. I get worked up and flail around in all directions, like in the "Lost in Space Fungus" Neopets game, where the purpose is to achieve a linear trajectory through a limited number of restrained circular movements (is /that/ why I'm so good at it, I wonder? Haha. ha <- Ed!laugh).

As a consequence of the flailing, more often than not I get where I want to be. Of course, there's stuff to pay for transit, and stuff to be discarded along the way, but I've long ago decided not to regret anything anymore.

I'm fine with it. With being the initiator, as well as the executor, to run around half-mad with worry, as long as I see myself where I had wanted to be. And boy, do I have a long list of places (metaphorical or not) where I want to be. In life. In love. In friendship and family. In entertainment. In social and cultural lifestyle shizz. And I work for it, as if it couldn't come to me by itself. I wonder if it would.

I'm reading "A spot of bother", and wondering at Jaime, who has "built himself his own pretty, safe life", in all respects. But Jaime is now satisfied - I don't think I'd ever be. Does that make me greedy, or is that just Jaime being a static fictional character (who will no doubt wake up to see that he's living a lie by the end of the book. These things are so predictable, so much like life, that I can sometimes sympathise with TP for only reading fantasy and SF. Of course, that would mean I'd be missing out on small masterpeices like "The rain before it falls". But, in the words of Rosamond, I digress.)

The point is that, sometimes, I get tired. I'm tired of me being the one to organize trips, and make up a team to enter contests, and pimp master programmes or internships to my friends, I get bored of /myself/ - of the way I seem to be twice as frantic as everyone else. And those are the times I'm depressed and bitter, those are the times I'm sick of myself. And I crawl to a corner and hug my knees to myself, metaphorically speaking (mostly metaphorically), and wish to be the one being pulled along. I want someone to be taking care of me, thinking of me when they see an e-mail on a discussion group, be the one to receive a phone call asking if I want to go to the movie festival.

Up till this moment, there are only two persons who have done this for me. I've lost touch with one of them through my own volition.

I'm not saying that I'd like to be just as complacent as everyone else, though. Which is strange. The thought never crossed my mind, once. What I guess I'm wishing for is to find other people who like to get involved (in /everything/, really) and who would pimp stuff to me with the same sense of love and caring as I do for them.

How about someone else made the reservation to that restaurant? Or found a hotel, or a movie? I wouldn't last for long, being pulled along like that, but it would feel nice: pampered, and loved, and not in a one-sided relationship (from /that pov/)

Maybe I'm just soially defective and have no other way to express my love for some people. If you don't feel that the words "I love you" mean anything special, why should the receiver of those words feel it?



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Later edit: this post was in my drafts for a while. I didn't want to post it, because it sounded small and spoiled and whiny. However, like I said (because "redundant" is what we do best):

1. I don't want to regret anything in my life anymore, which includes not saying stuff which eat at me from the inside
2. I'm depressed, therefore I wsant to be spoiled
3. You may sue.

*off to Jrock land. I wonder why almost all DELUHI albums / singles have Buddhist names, while the songs themselves are so powerful (I don't want to say "angry"). Damn, how I wish I could understand what they're saying!*