I Just Can’t Stop It

Image by Larisa Koshkina from Pixabay

Have you ever had such an experience that a temporary decision (or a small project or an insignificant passing comment) ends up becoming something more permanent? You don’t know how it has become this way and you feel like you’ve never wanted it to be this way, but it just happened.

One week ago, I thought of write a little story “A Tale Of Two Cousins” for one or two thousand words maximum. However I am surprised to see it dragging on and on, with no end in sight. I don’t think other people are interested in something happened on the edge of Mongolian Steppe decades ago–one or two posts would exhaust everybody’s attention, including mine. And yes, I tried to end it ASAP, but I couldn’t. I just don’t understand how such a thing can happen. It’s not bloody enough to be a detective story, not mysterious enough to be a mystery, not dramatic enough to give the satisfaction, not emotional enough to make anybody shed tears. However it has the stubbornness to go on, unashamed of the fact that it has overstayed its welcome on WP. I don’t know what to do with it. I can’t leave it like this. I have to carry on.

I remember I had a crush on a classmate in college. Somehow I knew he was not suitable for me, but I just couldn’t stop thinking of him. The reason I knew he was not suitable was because he made it very clear what kind of woman he wanted–cute, good at cooking, no interest in books. I fit none of the three requirements. I was not diffident about my own looks, but I knew my Mongolian style cuteness was beyond his limited aesthetic comprehension. I knew I should stopping thinking of him, but I just couldn’t stop it. Eventually I told him and made a very big fool of myself. Now thinking back, I actually don’t feel really bad since that’s what an unrequited love is supposed to look like. I remember I called him incessantly to try to talk with him even if he treated me as a mad woman; I remember paying for an expensive meal of his, his unannounced girlfriend who fit in all his standards, his buddy, and his buddy’s girlfriend; I remember trying to learn to cook to be a good girl just for him.

I still remember when I was in graduate school attending a discussion forum, a kind of science class. I was one of the two non-native speakers in the classroom. And the instructor, Mrs. Coffee (I still remember her name), noticing that I was not talking much, deliberately asked me to express my opinion. She didn’t know what she was getting into. So I started and I talked and talked and couldn’t stop myself. My English was no good and my grasp on the subject must be tenuous (since at the time I could only follow 60 to 70% of what was going on in the classroom), but my enthusiasm at speaking was astonishing. I think Mrs. Coffee and the whole class were very surprised. Eventually she had to stop me and let other students talk. My buddy, the other non-native speaker, poked me and said, “you can really talk.” I said, “I don’t know what just happened. I couldn’t stop myself.” I knew I must have bored everybody to death and I felt very awkward afterwards.

I guess everybody is weird in certain ways…