The Idiot in the Middle

People tell me things, like who they're in love with or have fallen out of love with or what their plans are or what their plans aren't, or what to pray for and what not to pray for, what their proclivities are in various spheres of life, etc all under the strictest code of confidence. For some reason unknown to me, people believe that I can keep a secret. Which doesn't negate the fact that I can and do hold my tongue when it comes to protecting the words of others: trust, in this case, is not misplaced. But I have to ask: what is it that attracts others to know who they can or cannot trust? Because so often, it's a process of trial and error. You trust someone and they let you down and you feel like you could never trust them or [depending on the level of trust] anyone ever again, and yet apparent strangers...or casual acquaintances open up about what would ordinarily be extremely sensitive and private information, assuming that because I've given my word, I won't go back on it. It befuddles me. Do I look trustworthy? Is it the hijab? Is it my outspoken demeanor? It's all rather confusing. Sometimes trusting absolute strangers [people you know you're only going to see once and then never again], is easier than knowing you'll be facing consequences to your revelations. 

A friend on the program asked me whether I was afraid of what would happen if I got drunk, knowing that I don't indulge in the alcoholic sides of life. It's interesting that he asked, because it's something that's been on my mind: were it not part of my belief system to not indulge, what would I do: would I go there or not. My answer was 'no', which lead to a further analysis of why and I realized, without much surprise admittedly, that I wouldn't want to go there because I am uncertain what would ooze out of me. Control is a good thing, and having fun is a great thing especially when you know your limit: I like driving, and on an open road, will test the boundaries of a speed limit and have received a few tickets for the indulgence. But losing inhibitions is entirely different: it brings out the side of you you have kept hidden, out into the open and privacy, at least in my world, is highly valued. I wouldn't do drugs or have a drunken binge for that sole reason and if that makes me a social prude, then so be it: we are who we are. Besides, the health reasons also kick in: don't want foreign substances invading my system, killing me earlier than expected. But in a world where there were no health repercussions and in solitude, would I? Perhaps.

If only so I could write about it later.

In my kids, however, there would be a sense of having them try everything out within the sanctity and protection of the home life just to make sure the 'curiosity' of things dies out. A friend of my sister's had that experience: she and her two brothers were allowed first puffs of a cigarette by their parents, with the warning: 'that's it. That's curiosity appeased. If you do that outside the house, we'll kick you out.' Kept everyone in line. Curiosity is curious though, isn't it? But having seen people drunk and mildly high here, and having smelled wine and beer, I can safely say: I wouldn't want to be anywhere near that stuff. Really no idea how people can inhale the stench when they drink. Perhaps it comes down to personal choice? After all, there are non-Muslims out there who don't drink at all, socially or otherwise. Nobody questions their decisions.

Part of the questions might be the image presented to the world: mine involves a hijab and modest clothing, covering parts of my body and being that I believe should be. But there is no ill will towards people who don't follow that personal belief and it's their life, right? We should be allowed to exist as who we are, allowed to make our own mistakes, allowed to find our own norths. Isn't that part of why we're here?

This week and parts of the last have been largely a blur filled with planning, walking, more planning, dealing with rising tensions and mounting responsibilities and coming to a firm realization of the importance of real research in writing a high concept novel. There are no small things in my world it seems: big ideas and big goals take precedence and walking towards them, or so it seems, is all that matters.

But that's my north. That's what keeps me on my toes: high on my ambitions. It often flips too: low on what isn't happening, but it's the rollercoaster experience that keeps everything interesting, right?

We're all here for different reasons.

Being away from home encourages healthier introspections, so often because of the impersonalized nature of the experience. It starts getting old when it becomes your actual home, however. Compartmentalization in that instance then, is completely acceptable.