So she did it. I can't blame her really.
A friend, hurt by an old relationship has exacted a little vengeance; I don't condemn her for it (nor will I go into detail for it's not my story to tell) but I wonder at her method, a pyrrhic victory. The object of her hatred will barely feel it, the person in the middle, a good friend of hers and mine, much more wounded. An old enmity fueled at her end, plus a good friendship cooled and perhaps even a little power abused, a little censorship enforced...
I wonder if her villain will even notice; not really methinks. On an emotional level I see it as an indication of pain unhealed, untouched, not a scar, an open wound; worrying because the break up happened many years ago. More tact should have been on hand with her, it's not that I don't understand what she has done; but the way she has done it could perhaps have been improved, to the protection of her current relationships. And I wonder that my friend should reveal herself in such stark terms. She is still intensely hurt, and I don't know how to help her.
On another level my knavish shadow thinks that if ever my enemy harmed their own so much to cause me minor inconvenience, took such desperate comfort from so tiny an act, and revealed me to be even yet the tyrant of their heart, the sheer pathos would drive me to tears of laughter. A toast would have to be raised; not champagne of course, we need a very dark red to celebrate such power. Hell, I might even invite them to share a glass; one should be kind to the poor. Yuk. Who can live on such stuff? Where's the pride?
The best revenge is true happiness and indifference. I enjoy a little anger as much as the next person, but it is addictive and eventually, must be given up if one is to be content. But one can only know that in aftermath/glow/whatever. And in the meantime, I must try not to judge fevered chums.
For some reason, the latest Bond theme keeps hammering through my head; in terms of this subject, strangely appropriate. I record it for my own memory.
If you take a life, do you know what you'll give
Odds are you won't like what it is
When the storm arrives
Would you be seen with me
By the merciless eyes of deceit
I've seen angels fall from blinding heights
But you yourself are nothing so divine
Just next in line
{chorus)Arm yourself because no one else here will save you
The odds will betray you
And I will replace you
You can't deny the prize, it may never fulfill you
It longs to kill you
Are you willing to die?
The coldest blood burns through my veins
You know my name
If you come inside
Things will not be the same
When you return to my eyes
And if you think you've won
You never saw me change
The game that we have been playing
I've seen this diamond cut through harder men
Than you yourself, but if you must pretend
You may meet your end
[cut]
{Chorus}Arm yourself because no one else here will save you
The odds will betray you
And I will replace you
You can't deny the prize, it may never fulfill you
It longs to kill you
Are you willing to die?
The coldest blood burns through my veins
You know my name
A friend, hurt by an old relationship has exacted a little vengeance; I don't condemn her for it (nor will I go into detail for it's not my story to tell) but I wonder at her method, a pyrrhic victory. The object of her hatred will barely feel it, the person in the middle, a good friend of hers and mine, much more wounded. An old enmity fueled at her end, plus a good friendship cooled and perhaps even a little power abused, a little censorship enforced...
I wonder if her villain will even notice; not really methinks. On an emotional level I see it as an indication of pain unhealed, untouched, not a scar, an open wound; worrying because the break up happened many years ago. More tact should have been on hand with her, it's not that I don't understand what she has done; but the way she has done it could perhaps have been improved, to the protection of her current relationships. And I wonder that my friend should reveal herself in such stark terms. She is still intensely hurt, and I don't know how to help her.
On another level my knavish shadow thinks that if ever my enemy harmed their own so much to cause me minor inconvenience, took such desperate comfort from so tiny an act, and revealed me to be even yet the tyrant of their heart, the sheer pathos would drive me to tears of laughter. A toast would have to be raised; not champagne of course, we need a very dark red to celebrate such power. Hell, I might even invite them to share a glass; one should be kind to the poor. Yuk. Who can live on such stuff? Where's the pride?
The best revenge is true happiness and indifference. I enjoy a little anger as much as the next person, but it is addictive and eventually, must be given up if one is to be content. But one can only know that in aftermath/glow/whatever. And in the meantime, I must try not to judge fevered chums.
For some reason, the latest Bond theme keeps hammering through my head; in terms of this subject, strangely appropriate. I record it for my own memory.
If you take a life, do you know what you'll give
Odds are you won't like what it is
When the storm arrives
Would you be seen with me
By the merciless eyes of deceit
I've seen angels fall from blinding heights
But you yourself are nothing so divine
Just next in line
{chorus)Arm yourself because no one else here will save you
The odds will betray you
And I will replace you
You can't deny the prize, it may never fulfill you
It longs to kill you
Are you willing to die?
The coldest blood burns through my veins
You know my name
If you come inside
Things will not be the same
When you return to my eyes
And if you think you've won
You never saw me change
The game that we have been playing
I've seen this diamond cut through harder men
Than you yourself, but if you must pretend
You may meet your end
[cut]
{Chorus}Arm yourself because no one else here will save you
The odds will betray you
And I will replace you
You can't deny the prize, it may never fulfill you
It longs to kill you
Are you willing to die?
The coldest blood burns through my veins
You know my name
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 02:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 02:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 03:29 pm (UTC)No sparkling with there I'm afraid, just a very finely honed sense of revenge.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 04:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 04:28 pm (UTC)Fantastic film by the way, I highly recommend it.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 05:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 07:14 pm (UTC)Of course, it's none of my business to say so. Reckon she might bust my metaphorical balls for even mentioning it.
Who'd have thought an emotion which makes for such great tv drama is so ick and tawdry in real life?
A Heston Blumentahl Revenge.
Date: 2006-12-01 09:06 pm (UTC)Protracted, subtle, and most importantly, using the person's own frailties to inflict the humiliation. To care about someone is to know them, and to know them is to know how to hurt them.
How do I know when my revenge has succeeded?
By the feeling of deep shame, and the learning. Biggest regrets? the people who get caught in the cross fire.
Slowly, I'm learning to either blow up (hard for a control freak) or walk away (hard for the alpha female).
Or, like today, use the olive branch tactiacally to move things on.
ICK, how revoltingly mature.....
Re: A Heston Blumentahl Revenge.
Date: 2006-12-04 01:08 pm (UTC)