FLINGS OR COMMITTMENT. Which side are you in?

Why do flings seem to be a convenient choice rather than committing to an actual committment of being in a relationship?  As I see it nowadays, teenagers are so fond of having these so-called flings and pseudo-relationships through texts, chat, internet and e-mail-- these days, they aren't as particular about the technicalities and formalities of having a relationship as they should be. I know I should mind my own business but then, it just occured to me as a thought, why do some people choose flings over a relationship these days? So, being me, I grabed a pen and paper and started scribbling my thoughts, I don't mean anything bad about flings, I just want to express that, if we could have the chance to choose between the two, its better to choose the more stable one, relationship.

So, back to the question I have,   about why is it more convenient to choose flings nowadays,
I guess, a vast range of excuses and explanations may arise:

1. Maybe you felt something for the other person too, but you didn't want to acknowledge the feeling. YET.
2. Maybe you didn't want it to be just you and him, because you want to explore your other options too.
3. Maybe, you're afraid that nobody will ever stick around for as long as we want them to.

There are strings of maybes that you can enter here, but I guess choosing flings over committment is more convenient for some.

No deals. No commitment. No exclusivity.
With flings, you can enjoy the feeling of a pseudo-relationship without the worry of being committed.


BUT. There is always a big BUT. There is one thing lacking : a sense of security with THAT SOMEONE YOU LIKE.
It can end anytime.

For me, it all goes down to that someone being afraid of taking a risk, because  if you truly want it to, you could turn the emotions into actual decisions. You can either choose between having a real committment on a relationship or choose to have endless flings-- devoid of any real meaning of relationships.

Because there is always a choice. It's only up to you whether you choose to take an active risk and try or leave it all to fate.
The bottom line here that I want to tell is that, I don't mean any bad thing about flings, all I'm saying, Sometimes, a fling can lead to the real thing. You just have to make a choice and take the chance. Because you may never know how absolutely perfect something could turn out to be if you wouldn't try.  :)

So, committment or flings? We always have a choice. I'd say, for the future, I'd still pick committment, because WITH THE RIGHT PERSON, EXCLUSIVITY MAY NOT BE SUCH A BAD THING. :)

Later. (A story to think about.)

Hmm. I was going through my notes during my high school years, and I came across this. This was written by Michael Foster,  and dated, hmm, maybe when I was in my third year, this is a story that gives us a lesson about not putting off what we can do now, instead of doing it LATEER.  This has a sad ending,

:( but I hope you can get meaning from this.

I hope you guys will like it too. :) So, here goes...

LATER

(Michael Foster)

It's queer, the things you remember. When life has crumbled so suddenly, and left you standing there, alone. It's not the big important things that you remember when you come to that: not the plans of years, not the love nor the hopes you've worked so hard for. It's the little things  that you remember then: the little things you hadn't noticed at the time. The way a hand touched yours, and you too busy to notice; the hopeful little inflection of a voice you didn't bother to listen to.

John Carmody found that out, staring through the living room window, at the cheerful Tuesday afternoon life of the street. He kept trying to think about the big, important things, lost now--the years and the pllans, and the hopes. And the love. But he couldn't quite get them focused sharply in his mind, just now. Not this afternoon.

They, those important things, were like a huge but nebulous background in his mind. All he could remember, now, was a queer little thing: nothing, really, if you stopped and thought about it in the light of the years and the plans and the--the great love.  It was only something his little girl had said to him.

One evening, two--perhaps three weeks ago. Nothing, if you looked at it rationally. The sort of thing that kids are always saying.

But it was what he was remembering now.

That particular night, he had brought home from the office a finished draft of the annual stockholder's report. Very important, it was. Things being as they were, it meant a great deal- to his future; to the future of his wife and his little girl. He sat down to reread it before dinner. It had to be right: it meant so much.

And just as he turned a page, Marge, his little girl, came with a book under her arm. It was a green-covered book, with a fairy-tale picture pasted on it. and she said: "Look, Daddy."

He glanced up and said, "Oh, fine. A new book, eh?"

"yes, daddy," she said. "Will you read me a story in it?"

"No dear, not just now," he said.

Marge just stood there, and he read through a paragraph which told the stockholders about certain replacements in the machinery of the factory. And Marge's voice. with timid and hopeful little inflections, was saying: "But Mommy said you probably would, Daddy."

He looked up over the top of the typrescript. "I'm sorry ," he answered. "Maybe Mommy will read it to you. I'm busy, Dear."

"No," Marge said politely. "Mommy is much busier upstairs.Won't you read me just this one story? Look--it has a picture. See? Isn't it a lovely picture, Daddy?"

"Oh, yes. Beautiful," he said. "Now, that picture has class, hasn't it? But I do have to work tonight. Some other time..."

After that, there was quite a long silence. Marge just stood there, with the book open at a lovely picture. It was a long time before she said anything else. He read through two more pages explaining in full detail, as he had directed, the shift in markets over the past twelve months, the plans outlined by the sales department for meeting these problems which, after all, could safely be ascribed to local conditions, and the advertising program which after weeks of conferences had been devised to stabilize and even increase the demand for their products.

"But it is a lovely picture, daddy. And the story looks so exciting," Marge said.

"I know," he said. "Ah...mmmmmmmmmmmmm. Some other time. Run along, now. "

"I'm sure you'd enjoy it, daddy, " Marge said.

"Eh? Yes. I know I would. But later. "

"Oh." Marge said. "Well, some other time, then. Will you, Daddy? Some other time?"

"Oh, of course," he said. "You bet."

But she didn't go away. She still stood there quietly, like a good child. And after a long time, she put the book down on the stool at his feet, and said:

"Well, whenever you get ready, just read it to yourself. Only read it aloud enough so I can hear, too."

"Sure," he said. "Sure, later."

And that was what John Carmody was remembering. NOw. Not the long plans of love and care for the years ahead. He was remembering the way a well-mannered child has touched his hand with timid little fingers and said:

"Just read it to yourself. Only read it loud enough so I can hear, too."

And that was why, now, he put his hand on the book. from the corner table where they had piled some of Marge's playthings, picking them up form the floor where she had left them .

The book wasn't new anymore; and the green cover was dented and thumbed. He opened it to the lovely picture.

And reading that story, his lips moving stiffly with anguish to form the words he didn't like to think any more, as he should be thinking. about the important things: about his careful and shrewd and loving plans for the years to come; and for a little while he forgot, even, the horror and bitterness of his hate for the half-drunken punk kid who had careened down the street in a secondhand car- and who was now in jail on manslaughter charges. He didn't even see his wife, white and silent, dressed for Marge's funeral, standing in the doorway, trying to make her voice say calmly: "I'm ready, dear. We must go. "

Because John Carmody was reading:

"Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in a woodcutter's hut, in the Black Forest. And she was so fair that  the birds forgot their singing from the bough, looking at her. And there came a day when..."

He was reading it to himself. But loud enough for her to hear, too.

Maybe.

-END-

Though this story has a sad ending, I hope we have learned the lesson what John Carmody learned the hard way,

sometimes, we are always in a rush to do something, it's like we are being chased in what we do, like there's no tomorrow, that we forget to appreciate the little things that ACTUALLY MATTER, just like what the first paragraph in the story is saying,

"It's not the big important things that you remember when you come to that: not the plans of years, not the love nor the hopes you've worked so hard for. It's the little things  that you remember then: the little things you hadn't noticed at the time. The way a hand touched yours, and you too busy to notice; the hopeful little inflection of a voice you didn't bother to listen to."

So before its too late, we should stop for a while and look around us, learn to appreciate life more. Yes, it is indeed true that we should make the best the most out of our lives, but we should not forget to live one day at a time, and appreciate every moment that we have. :)

Happiness is just a matter of choice.:)

There are times when we are caught in a dilemma that we don't know whether to do this or that and because of this, we sometimes tend to make a decision abruptly just to show others that we can make a decision fast, and avoid the criticism of others, but in the end, we regret that decision. A certain thing hurts us yet we know it shouldn't. Life is full of confusions and full of choices. There will come a point in our lives where we have to face an obstacle by ourselves, though we might find it difficult working on a plan or become trapped in a situation where we might get hurt or cause pain to other people, we always have to choose, to think twice or even a hundred times before taking an action, we always have to remember that HAPPINESS IS JUST A MATTER OF CHOICE. :)

A Silent Plea.

SECOND CHANCES. SECOND CHANCES. okay. screw the word
SECOND.
Afterall,  all I've got to hold on to are just chances, mere chances that out of the 100% you'll get to notice someone, all I've is 1%, still I've hold on to it. But then, I realized, stupid me, how could I have expected too much from someone else? A fantasy that didn't even had the chance to start.
What a pity.
I was there all along. If only you took a glance behind you, you could've noticed I was there, I was always there. But it was she who was always on your mind. The girl you like. The girl you said you love.

The girl who could set your spirits high with just a single smile.
The girl who could always brighten up your day in a flash-- but also the same girl who COULD NOT appreciate anything you do. The girl who'd always step on your heart; at one moment pick it up to play with it, then throws it away again after satisfying herself.

Aren't you ever tired? It seems to me like its a cycle--you always end up hurting.
Comforting you has always been a habit of mine; staring at your face was a routine; lending you a shoulder to cry on was my only chance of showing I care-- BUT YOU DON'T SEEM TO NOTICE. :(

Afterall, what can I expect? It was she who was alway ruunning onn your thoughts.
The 1% that I've got, I've used almost .9% of it, the .1% left is slowly fading,,, but still,,, I waited...

Waited and waited and waited...--To no avail. :/

Its as if I'm standing at the edge of a cliff, holding on  to nothing, but I'm not falling into the dark unknown; something's holding me back. I can't move forward, but I can't back out either.
But I'm getting tired.. A little more and I'll give up. Sure  I will.

I'll try not to care. Not to notice. Not to look. Not to react.
HELP ME. PLEASE. :/

Taking Risks. :)

 

Learn to take risks. You'll never know what's in store for you if you always have your walls up. If in the course of the journey you fail, what's wrong with that?

Treat it as a single slap. No harm done. But it makes you more determined to be better, right?
We don't have to freak out if something about what you are expecting doesn't happen the way it was supposed to be.
It's always a good feeling when, at the end of the day, you can say to yourself that even if not all the goals for the day have been met, still you gave it a shot and gave it a try. :)
What makes life more meaningful are the little impurities and imperfections that are constant reminders that even though we are not perfect, we can always do better next time. :)

Remember, there's always tomorrow for another day and we'll realize that every thing is worth risking for. :)

(Photos are not mine. Photo credits to the owner.)

Lovepostscript.:)

Somehow, somewhere, in this crazy world, you'll find something or someone with whom you'll always share something special with. It could be a friend, a confidante, an ex-lover, a lover, a bestfriend, a long-time friend or even someone you consider as the one that got away.  Say, once you'vee met them, will always have, and will always occupy a small place in your heart and in your life. Maybe because they made a change in your life; made you feel special and in a unique in a way that no one ever did before' or maybe they made you a far more better person than you once were, molded you into what you are now.

There's no telling on HOW, WHEN, or WHERE you'll meet that person, but DEFINITELY, you will meet him/her.  Maybe inside the bus, in a library, on a convenience store, at school, in thee street, at the mall, surely YOU WOULD. :)

And one thing is for sure, like an indelible ink on a shirt, or like the saying, "The wind that passed a certain place will never pass the same route and trail ever again," you will realize that once you knew and met that someone, your life will never be the same again. :)