cliché rant to end the silence

Many times before,
between my last post and now,
I've picked up a pen and stared at a blank sheet of paper
(Read picked up my phone and stared at a blank screen)
And willed my creativity to express in words the deep thoughts within me.

But as the lack of posts suggests, it didn't happen.

It is somewhat sad then that my silence is to be broken by a cliché rant, but some expression is better than none?

I'm beginning to dislike... no... hate, facebook.

My reasoning is simple. You see, providing your friends and family (and the occasional attractive stranger?) With a platform from which they can view at least the highlights of your life comes a certain degree of expectation.

Particularly in my case where your audience is "back home" and eager to keep in touch with the loved one "abroad".

Meeting this expectation is beginning to drain me.

I felt obliged, for example to post a status on my recent completion of my MSc (shameless plug).

I can hear the protest of the skeptic reader who thinks that no one or nothing can oblige you to post on Facebook.

But I must defend myself,  for this is a case whereby silence (the lack of a post) leads to speculation which, for any person who is honest enough to admit that what people think about you sometimes does matter, is a dangerous thing.

Did she not pass? Imagine,  her parents spent all that money! No wonder she hasn't come back yet...

I thought you had a new boyfriend,  no pictures of you two? Maybe she made him up. Is there something wrong with him? 

What do you mean you're deleting your account?  What are you hiding?

You see, a Facebook account comes with the expectation that you will bare to your loved ones at least some part of you.

Not so much as to be "airing your dirty laundry in public", but just enough to quell any misguided assumptions based on your silence.

And that is why I'm starting to dislike... no... hate Facebook.

Something, Anything...

I want to write something, anything..

Even if only to prove to myself that I can, to demonstrate that the words that appear in the other posts on this page were in fact written by me...

I want to write something, anything...

Even if only to uproot the confusion growing in the crevices of my mind, to evict the memories threatening to evoke squatters' rights and take up permanent residence...

I want to write something, anything...

Even if only to shake this feeling of regret, of decisions mulled over but never made, to provide a plank on which my deepest, darkest thoughts can walk and meet their end in a watery grave of publicity...

I want to write something, anything...

Even if only to appease the itch of my fingers to tap black letters onto a white sheet to form words that strewn together make sentences that may or may not make sense...

I want to write something, anything...

Even if only to end the silence.

The Appeal of the Duel

I suddenly wondered if I was born with an inherent appeal to being fought for.
Perhaps my fascination with Disney movies extended to include the knight in shining armor wielding his sword to conquer the heart of a princess.
Maybe God Himself created me with a congenital aspiration to give my heart to he who has fought the good fight and battled all odds to claim me as the prize.

Whatever the source of this desire, the undeniable fact remains it exists;
The Appeal Of The Duel.

The appeal is so strong that in the absence of a human opponent, I create one.
Flick through the chronicles of my life and witness the great battles between man and
timing
distance
circumstance
age
ambition
Each opponent subconsciously conjured up by me for the knight at hand to battle to the death for me.

Alas, with every victory comes the introduction of a new opponent, until, having made it to the final round,
having outlasted my imagination and sub-conscience, he faces
The most dire of the adversaries. The most deadly of the contenders. The most terrifying of all foes.

Should all other obstacles be overcome, should each battle be won, the war is not over until you have fought

ME for me.