It always is a strange thing, being passive aggressive. I know I do it myself from time to time, unfortunately not being fully aware of its folly. The problem with being passive aggressive lies in when you think you know something which you truly only suspect, regardless of how strongly you believe it. For example, one might offer their children cookies for a snack knowing full well that there are no cookies left, suspecting the children of pilfering the entire lot when, in fact, their spouse is the true culprit.
When we are passive aggressive in this manner we put our targets in an awkward position. The target can either believe that they are the cause of this aggression and seek to resolve the situation, which can often lead to horrendous embarrassment when they find that they are actually not the target at all; or they can believe that they are not the cause of this aggression, which only serves to further aggravate the aggressor; or finally, they could write an ironically passive aggressive blog post because they simply don't know.
In conclusion, if you have something to say to someone, say it. If you don't have something relevant to say, don't say it. And, if you're like me and don't know if you need to say something to someone or not because you're unsure if they didn't say something to you and left it for you to find or if they didn't not say anything to you because it wasn't meant for you in the first place and you found it and thought that they did... well then go ahead and drop a crumb.
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
The Unblogged
The following post is a collection of posts that I didn't post, or simply gave up on before they got anywhere. I find it interesting what some of my old thoughts and feelings were, as well as entertaining to imagine my half thoughts.
If you hadn't picked up, the new notes will be brought to you by the colour RED.
1/20/10 Scientific Exhaustion
I was going to continue a discussion on my Facebook page,
BO-ring!
12/19/09 When Did It Happen?
I've stopped being honest.
I'm not sure, but I think this may have been about hiding (or trying to hide) my feelings for someone. Kinda like a Humphrey Bogart at the end of Casablanca kind of deal, only, you know, not as good.
10/25/09 (Untitled)
I fight such an odd war. I have nothing against my enemy, but I know that he hates me. He even seems like a decent enough guy. It's not political, I want to destroy him and it is most malicious. Maybe it's the testosterone, but I'm not usually a guy who feels the need to win. I can't tell you what it is. What I can tell you is that I like it. I love it. Even though I'm terrible at it.
I don't know about anyone else, but I fucking love being hated sometimes. In my old situation, being hated was the next best thing to being loved. Being a threat to someone is empowering.
But that is an underdog thing too. When you're at the top, you're not a threat to anyone. In an ironic sense, you lose that power.
10/20/09 My Ultimate Team
Skip this one if you want. It's exactly what it sounds like.
In response to TK's Ultimate Team blog, here is my Ultimate Alliance 2 Team:
Storm.
What can I say about the master of the elements? Her in game taunts are the most justified of anyone. She controls the weather itself. She defeated Magneto. She is through and through awesome. I'll admit that when I started I was wary of Storm, since in UA1 she refused to use her one good power of Lightning Blast. But in UA2, her Lightning Blast is unparallelled and her Gale Force is the first and best of its class. The ability to dismissively blast an oncoming troop of enemies off a ledge is nothing short of god-like. While the rest of my crew is busy hacking away at single targets, Storm is blasting small armies away and causing massive random lightning damage all over the field. Inescapable lightning damage, too. It cannot be blocked and it cannot be dodged.
Wolverine.
Begrudgingly. There is a reason this guy is such a cliche. He's a-goddamn-mazing. Massive damage, massive hit points, regeneration, and a good spread of attacks. Some characters I find have a tendency to have just one good move and the others are simply there for show. He spins, he charges, he dives, he slashes... things wind up dead. I have the damage numbers on and when Wolverine comes in contact with someone there is just a stream of numbers. I wanted to trade him in, and he was usually on the bench while I was trying other guys out, but when it comes to an Ultimate Team, you'd be crazy not to bring in this cat... dog... monster-thing. What the hell is a wolverine anyway?
Venom.
He didn't get added to the roster until late in the game, but jesus tits this guy is a monster. Like, literally. In every sense of the word. Here is a case of someone who was pretty much a one trick pony, with other skills to fill the skill points out. He has this move where he leaps at someone, tackles them, and then devours them. For the little guys, Venom is unstoppable! Combined with his Pull move, if the first attack doesn't kill the guy, the second surely will. A big sack of hit points that can beat people to death with other people. Venom has always been pretty awesome.
Other.
There are honestly too many people that could fit into this last spot. Spidey was fun, but not great at anything. Ms. Marvel was hot, but I don't know who the fuck she is. Gambit was classic, but he never wowed me. I honestly never tried Deadpool, but that guy comes off as a more obnoxious Spider-man. Luke Cage was on my team for a while for racial diversity. He was okay. Ironman was denied from my team, so when I got him back I thought he could go suck a dick. Jean Grey was wicked powerful, but awfully dainty. Honestly, I never became that attached to anyone. I got Hulk late, and he was doing well, but he didn't seem to be pulling his weight. I wanted him to devastate people.
Anyway, I'm going to play it a second time around on hard and go Pro-Regulation. Maybe Ironman will grow on me again, but I somehow doubt it.
10/15/09 Contending the Winter of Discontent
I'm trying to work out the logical cycle of the miserability scores of the winter. The last two years have been horrible cold, but
Did winter get better this year? Depends where you start and finish winter. This post was obviously in mid-October and winter didn't technically start for another two months. If it's based on the weather, then winter was over by the beginning of March, and even then things started looking up. But maybe that's just the thing: cold = suck.
5/25/09 Recess
So I was at a party the other night to substantially increase the man count of the evening. Little did I know I was to increase the man count by an infinite percentage. First, let me drop some knowledge on you. Being the only guy in a group full of girls is only beneficial when these girls are deprived and competing over, or better yet, considering sharing you. However, even if you arrived before many of the women, you are on the outside
Ha ha! I can't even tell you where I was for this, but I'm sure it was entertaining! I have a feeling I was in Lethbridge.
4/4/09 My goals
#1 Outlive Thom.
#2 Failing Goal 1, outlive wife so I don't have to tell people
What don't I have to tell people? I don't know. I'm too busy laughing at goal #1!
4/3/09 Secrecy
I find it funny that despite all the honest feelings we can express to each other there is always a level we feel the need to hide. There are always things we don't want to say because we're worried what the other person will think. Worse, sometimes we worry what the other person will do. More often than not, I think we're wrong. I think people are a lot more calm and reasonable than we give them credit for.
But despite all that logic, I still can't bring myself to explain the truth. I don't even know how to say it. I can make a lot of fuss about things that don't really matter, but when it comes to the important things... I don't know how to say them. I tried to once and it blew up in my face. I suppose wildly bitching to the internet hasn't been productive either.
Seriously. But I still do it. What's the deal with that?
I suppose what I need to say is that I'm sorry. My feelings were misdirected and my action was out of line. I know this is an open place, and that doesn't bother me. But if I'm going to be open, I need to be open.
So, here it goes.
Dear Blog,
I've fallen in love.
At least to the point that I understood love a year ago. And the irony kills me that a year ago I could only understand that level of love and it might have happened, and now I can see the infinite ocean of emotion that I hadn't yet reached. But at this ledge I am stopped. I am unable to explore. And maybe that's for the best. Maybe if I were to explore, I would soon run out of air (or maybe vice versa) and would have to resurface. Getting dumped out of the ocean is one thing, but the bends is another. Maybe diving in and exploring this is a bad idea. But I see something in the depths. I feel it. How can I ignore it? How can I stay here and never go? I could go to the reef. Reefs are safe; stable. But how can I ever forget those endless depths of the unknown? Even if I had to come back, why couldn't I try? Why couldn't we try?
This right here is why I never posted this. What the fuck am I talking about? That metaphor is constructed worse than slip n' slide built with bristle blocks. It is literally painful to read.
Blog, I'll cut the metaphor for a minute here. Thank God. I want to try this out. Even if it's built to break, even though there are so many signs that say we shouldn't, even though I've done so much to damage it... I want to try. And if I experience a whole new level of heartache, then I have experienced a whole new level of love. I know all the pain I've been through, and I remember it all as I bring those memories back. And all of that heartache, all of those tears and all that regret combined is worth a shot at this.
Wisdom, if I do say so myself.
...
If I'm being honest with you, I wonder now if I've placed her on a pedestal. I've ignored anything with her picture because she is too fucking beautiful. I sometimes think I might be the only one that really sees that. I mean really sees it. I can't even describe the feeling. It's like I want to... absorb her. I don't know, that's really all I can think of. Like I want to hold her so close that we occupy the same space to a scientifically impossible degree, as if our images overlapped. Is it all in my head, or is it all in my heart? I don't know. I wish I knew. I wish I didn't regret running away as much as I have. I wish the conviction I felt once hadn't been so terribly battered. I'm breaking down.
I don't know if I'm making sense. I don't know about you, but I'm following along. I guess I wrote it, though. I'm starting to get the bed ("bad". Though I imagine I was having bed feelings at this point too) feeling that this whole post is a mistake. But I'm going to push through it because I think there has been a lack of communication. And yes, I should say a lot of ("to") this in person. But, like I said, I'm scared. So much for pushing through and communicating. A coward to the end, I suppose.
...I'm trying to be interested in other people. It's a hard thing to say and I don't know why. I guess it goes back to worrying what people will do; how they'll react. I think a lot of the time, I promise feelings that I can't deliver in circumstantial situations. "We'll always be friends" is the biggest one, I think. It's not that the prospect of being together was the only thing holding us together, but sometimes things change and there is no overlooking it. I can't dissolve my feelings. I need to escape and dispose of them. I've got to get away. But it's so hard when I want to stay. Fuck you, old me! I'm doing it.
I didn't really get to say everything I wanted, but my head is killing me.
This is why it's good not only to keep a record of what you think, feel, and do, but also to go back and read it once in a while. If you take anything from this whole thing, take this piece of advice: go back and look it all over. Revisit your thoughts. The insight you gain about yourself is incredible. Everything changes when you take a trip back to visit who you were. I've been known to say it before, but I don't like me 5 years ago. 5 years from now Alex won't like Today Alex, even though Today Alex is fuckin' awesome. I'm sure even 6-months-from-now- Alex won't really be fond of Today Alex, but what can you do?
Learn.
3/13/09 Post it
(I'm trying this quick summary thing. Read this; get the jist. Read on for more info. I don't know whether this girl likes me back or not.) Semi- spoiler! I don't know who I'm talking about yet, but I bet she doesn't!
I have a note on the side of my computer that reads "Keep it to your goddamn self!"
I don't know why she troubles me the way that she does. It has got to be in my head. So, here I write to the abyss of the internet. Remember you're reading my blog. I'm not complaining to you. Aha! A loophole! Stuff it, Thom!
Is it bad that I can't tell if I'm the hero or the villain in my own story? I suppose good or bad is the same as right and wrong; good and evil. These are the things I cannot determine. Am I the heart of the righteous stuck in the body of the wicked, or the malevolent soul presented in a body of innocence? I want to do good, but am I the good that resists the temptation of evil, or am I the evil that seeks redemption? Is my destiny to be all the good which I wish to be, or is it to lay ruin to the supposed goodness I have created?
I really write like this sometimes, not a word of a lie. I just normally don't show anyone. There's a fucking reason for that. These longwinded posts are embarrassing bullshit!
Let me explain. I pride myself in goodness. I am fulfilled by doing what I think to be right, even if it is not the easiest route. But there has been a record so far of 100% violation of supposition among past lovers. Whether this be violation of ideas of fidelity, temperament, deceit, opportunism, or abandonment, there is always an aspect that appears in a relationship, or post relationship, that serves no purpose greater than destruction. Simply put, I hurt the ones I have loved and cared for.
Enter the girl. Yes, the girl. I would be remiss in believing that this girl is the end-all be-all of womankind purely by nature of her virtues - there are many thing that are simply incongruent among us - but somehow she attains the position in my mind of the girl ("the" should be in italics). And perhaps is something that I will talk about later. But for now, I ponder, does not the woman that corrupts man cancel the man that corrupts love?
Perhaps it is the man that corrupts woman? Very well. To an extent, I am that man. Should not then we two form a unison of which none more is perfect? I fear not.
I apologize. In my state I confuse eloquence with verbiage. Yeah, no shit, you pretentious wanker! What the fuck are you trying to say. Jesus Christ, this is the worst thing ever...
Why aren't things working? Why aren't we together? We want what we cannot have. Perhaps, by making up my mind on the course of action to take, I am no longer available. Perhaps I project this emotion more than I am aware. I know in my mind that it is impossible, and purely by virtue of impossibility is it something which I desire? Do I want what I cannot have because I have concluded that I cannot have it? Perhaps, though I did want it before I reached such conclusion. Is she so observant, though, that she perceives my decision and thus has become attracted to that which I have decided she cannot have? Perhaps. Now, supposing that both of these are true, am I not free to retract my previous conclusion and thus formally admit that my conclusion was invalid and that we two must be together?
I think I was in a philosophy class at the time, and they all write like this. Maybe I could make sense of it then, but I sure can't pull it apart now. Maybe philosophers need to stop being philosophers for a few months before they review their own work. It's like living in France for a few months and coming back to America and ordering jus d'orange. It's orange juice, motherfucker, and you're not cultured, you're a fucking idiot.
Yeah, it confuses me sometimes too. Here it is: if I gave up and the girl now likes me because I am unavailable, can I really just say, "hey, I'm all yours!" and things will work out dandy because she likes me? See? That's concise. I get that. I know what I'm talking about here.
They won't. She won't. The feelings are contingent. There is only one course to take.
I really should keep it to myself.
Okay, I was wrong. The girl may have liked me at the time. Although, that was a full year ago! That's incredible. Maybe I was right then. Maybe she didn't like me a year ago. A year is a longer time than I give it credit. It doesn't feel that long looking back, but it really is a long time. I could go on about "what ifs" and muse about the possibilities of what could have been, but that'd end up sounding like all the garbage I wrote a year ago! So here is my conclusion: I made my choices.
These next ones are over a year old, but they were in my "draft" folder, so what the hell!
1/28/09 Proof that Women are greater than Men
A lot of people on both sides of the gender spectrum (oh, it totally is a spectrum) believe that men are better than women. But I have proof that this is not the case.
All women carry our future sons their entire lives.
All men are born of women.
It takes the defiance of many men for a boy to become a man, yet only the love of a single woman.
Through hail of bullets and rain of bombs, between polished swords and sharpened spears, under thrown rocks and over the pitched fires of men a man can resist, but the absence of a woman can leave a man destroyed.
Oh how poetical... shit. To put it another way: women are man's only weakness.
1/23/09 Inequality
Men an women are different. I don't care what you say, but they are. There is a reason why boys like practical academics and girls like visual aesthetics (not that one does not grow to appreciate the other).
Men were made by scientists and women were made by artists.
This is where I wrote a little play about the creation of man and woman.
Genitus: Hurry up, everybody! The deadline's here and God needs these last bits!
Enter Penus.
Genitus: Ah! Penus. What do you have for us?
Penus: Check this out.
Penus whips out the first wang.
Penus: I call it The Penus!
Genitus: Wow, that's... something.
Penus: No, check this out!
The Penus erects.
Penus: Eh? Eh?! Totally involuntary! No bones or nothing.
Genitus: Ha! That is totally awesome! God's gonna be stoked!
Penus: I know, eh?
Penus plays with his newest invention.
Genitus: "The Penis," right?
Genitus scribbles on his clipboard.
Genitus: ...N, I, S.
Penus looks up from the willie.
Penus: Hmm?
Genitus: So, how does it work.
Penus: That's the best part. I was working with Testiclulus on this one. It shoots stuff. Testucles
Enter Testucles, slightly out of breath.
Testucles: Sorry, boss. Here it is.
Testucles holds up a pair of testicles.
Genitus: I don't follow.
Testucles: They're like mini factories. They make these little tiny cells with tails that can swim.
Genitus: Can I see?
Testucles: Just be careful. They're a little delicate.
Genitus: How delicate?
Testucles: Well, it's a complicated system. They're really sensitive and need to be kept at about 33 degrees.
Genitus checks his clipboard.
Genitus: Not 37 degrees?
Testucles: No.
Genitus: So what the hell are we going to do about that?
Testucles: I got it all planned out. We keep 'em in a bag.
Genitus: In a bag?! They're going to lose them!
Testucles: No, like a skin bag.
Genitus: A skin bag? Testucles, we can't afford that much material.
Enter Scrotus hurriedly.
Scrotus: Master! Master! I found something!
Scrotus hands Testucles fistfulls of skin.
Scrotus: They're elbow skin that God was just throwing away!
Testucles: That explains all the hair.
Penus hits Testucles with The Penus.
Penus: I thought we agreed on no hair!
Testucles: I'm sorry! Look, it's the best we can do.
Genitus: I'll let you sort that out for a minute while I check the design for Woman.
Penus, Testucles, and Scrotus huddle together.
Enter Vagino and Ovariam.
Genitus: Vagino! Ovarium! What do you have for us?
Vagino: Genitus, I say with no ego that this is our greatest creation. It's hidden, protected, sleek, soft, runs like clockwork, never needs replacing.
Genitus: Impressive! How does it work?
Ovariam: So, I've got these two little balls-
Genitus slaps his face into his palm.
Genitus: Calibrated to 33 degrees?
Ovariam: No. 37. Who calibrated to 33?
Genitus looks over his shouler at Penus, Testucles, and Scrotum.
Testucles: -no, no, you've got to pin it here!
Genitus turns back to Vagino and Ovariam.
Genitus: Doesn't matter.
Vagino looks over.
Vagino: What are they doing?
Genitus: Please, continue.
Ovariam: Right. So I have these balls. We can call the ovaries to avoid confusion. Anyway, so they are filled with, like, thousands and thousands of eggs-
Genitus: And the woman simply releases an egg when she wants to bear a child! Brilliant!
Pause.
Ovariam: We were thinking more of a timed release.
Genitus: So, they just sort of leak eggs from time to time?
Awkward pause.
Ovariam: You could say that.
Genitus: What happens?
Ovariam: Well, it's more than just an egg. But don't worry. We've devised a hormonal mechanism to keep it hidden.
Genitus: All right, I'll trust you know what you're doing. So, the egg comes out and then the man shoots Testucles' swimming cells onto it and it makes a baby, right?
Ovariam: Well, no. The baby has to grow inside here in this big chamber.
Genitus stares.
Genitus: And then...
Ovariam: Then you have a baby.
Genitus: How does the baby get out?
Ovariam and Vagino exchange looks.
Vagino: Ohhhhh no. No no no no no. No way. This is a masterpiece!
Ovariam (lowered voice): Vag, you're making me look bad.
Vagino: Ovariam, you make yourself look bad. We're not cramming a baby through my Vagina.
Ovariam: It's too late to change everything. C'mon, Vagino. It's the only way!
Vagino (sighs): Fine.
Genitus: Great! I've got to write up a report for God right now. Feel free to share your project with the other.
Genitus exits.
The huddled group of Penus, Testucles, and Scrotus opens up to reveal their package.
Penus: Ta-dah!
Vagino: eugh.
Next week: Gentius tries to explain to God how these parts are used to make new people.
I'm not thrilled with Ovariam and Vagino. They're not quite as entertaining as the stooges that are Penus, Testucles and Scrotus. Also, I'm more of an expert on the poor design of male genitalia than I am with regards to how women feel about their genitals. I don't know if anyone else finds it as funny as I do, but come on, a man's junk is the most poorly designed part of nature on a whole.
Hooray! You either read everything or scrolled to the bottom and said "Fuck that!"
Either way, thanks for getting to this point!
If you hadn't picked up, the new notes will be brought to you by the colour RED.
1/20/10 Scientific Exhaustion
I was going to continue a discussion on my Facebook page,
BO-ring!
12/19/09 When Did It Happen?
I've stopped being honest.
I'm not sure, but I think this may have been about hiding (or trying to hide) my feelings for someone. Kinda like a Humphrey Bogart at the end of Casablanca kind of deal, only, you know, not as good.
10/25/09 (Untitled)
I fight such an odd war. I have nothing against my enemy, but I know that he hates me. He even seems like a decent enough guy. It's not political, I want to destroy him and it is most malicious. Maybe it's the testosterone, but I'm not usually a guy who feels the need to win. I can't tell you what it is. What I can tell you is that I like it. I love it. Even though I'm terrible at it.
I don't know about anyone else, but I fucking love being hated sometimes. In my old situation, being hated was the next best thing to being loved. Being a threat to someone is empowering.
But that is an underdog thing too. When you're at the top, you're not a threat to anyone. In an ironic sense, you lose that power.
10/20/09 My Ultimate Team
Skip this one if you want. It's exactly what it sounds like.
In response to TK's Ultimate Team blog, here is my Ultimate Alliance 2 Team:
Storm.
What can I say about the master of the elements? Her in game taunts are the most justified of anyone. She controls the weather itself. She defeated Magneto. She is through and through awesome. I'll admit that when I started I was wary of Storm, since in UA1 she refused to use her one good power of Lightning Blast. But in UA2, her Lightning Blast is unparallelled and her Gale Force is the first and best of its class. The ability to dismissively blast an oncoming troop of enemies off a ledge is nothing short of god-like. While the rest of my crew is busy hacking away at single targets, Storm is blasting small armies away and causing massive random lightning damage all over the field. Inescapable lightning damage, too. It cannot be blocked and it cannot be dodged.
Wolverine.
Begrudgingly. There is a reason this guy is such a cliche. He's a-goddamn-mazing. Massive damage, massive hit points, regeneration, and a good spread of attacks. Some characters I find have a tendency to have just one good move and the others are simply there for show. He spins, he charges, he dives, he slashes... things wind up dead. I have the damage numbers on and when Wolverine comes in contact with someone there is just a stream of numbers. I wanted to trade him in, and he was usually on the bench while I was trying other guys out, but when it comes to an Ultimate Team, you'd be crazy not to bring in this cat... dog... monster-thing. What the hell is a wolverine anyway?
Venom.
He didn't get added to the roster until late in the game, but jesus tits this guy is a monster. Like, literally. In every sense of the word. Here is a case of someone who was pretty much a one trick pony, with other skills to fill the skill points out. He has this move where he leaps at someone, tackles them, and then devours them. For the little guys, Venom is unstoppable! Combined with his Pull move, if the first attack doesn't kill the guy, the second surely will. A big sack of hit points that can beat people to death with other people. Venom has always been pretty awesome.
Other.
There are honestly too many people that could fit into this last spot. Spidey was fun, but not great at anything. Ms. Marvel was hot, but I don't know who the fuck she is. Gambit was classic, but he never wowed me. I honestly never tried Deadpool, but that guy comes off as a more obnoxious Spider-man. Luke Cage was on my team for a while for racial diversity. He was okay. Ironman was denied from my team, so when I got him back I thought he could go suck a dick. Jean Grey was wicked powerful, but awfully dainty. Honestly, I never became that attached to anyone. I got Hulk late, and he was doing well, but he didn't seem to be pulling his weight. I wanted him to devastate people.
Anyway, I'm going to play it a second time around on hard and go Pro-Regulation. Maybe Ironman will grow on me again, but I somehow doubt it.
10/15/09 Contending the Winter of Discontent
I'm trying to work out the logical cycle of the miserability scores of the winter. The last two years have been horrible cold, but
Did winter get better this year? Depends where you start and finish winter. This post was obviously in mid-October and winter didn't technically start for another two months. If it's based on the weather, then winter was over by the beginning of March, and even then things started looking up. But maybe that's just the thing: cold = suck.
5/25/09 Recess
So I was at a party the other night to substantially increase the man count of the evening. Little did I know I was to increase the man count by an infinite percentage. First, let me drop some knowledge on you. Being the only guy in a group full of girls is only beneficial when these girls are deprived and competing over, or better yet, considering sharing you. However, even if you arrived before many of the women, you are on the outside
Ha ha! I can't even tell you where I was for this, but I'm sure it was entertaining! I have a feeling I was in Lethbridge.
4/4/09 My goals
#1 Outlive Thom.
#2 Failing Goal 1, outlive wife so I don't have to tell people
What don't I have to tell people? I don't know. I'm too busy laughing at goal #1!
4/3/09 Secrecy
I find it funny that despite all the honest feelings we can express to each other there is always a level we feel the need to hide. There are always things we don't want to say because we're worried what the other person will think. Worse, sometimes we worry what the other person will do. More often than not, I think we're wrong. I think people are a lot more calm and reasonable than we give them credit for.
But despite all that logic, I still can't bring myself to explain the truth. I don't even know how to say it. I can make a lot of fuss about things that don't really matter, but when it comes to the important things... I don't know how to say them. I tried to once and it blew up in my face. I suppose wildly bitching to the internet hasn't been productive either.
Seriously. But I still do it. What's the deal with that?
I suppose what I need to say is that I'm sorry. My feelings were misdirected and my action was out of line. I know this is an open place, and that doesn't bother me. But if I'm going to be open, I need to be open.
So, here it goes.
Dear Blog,
I've fallen in love.
At least to the point that I understood love a year ago. And the irony kills me that a year ago I could only understand that level of love and it might have happened, and now I can see the infinite ocean of emotion that I hadn't yet reached. But at this ledge I am stopped. I am unable to explore. And maybe that's for the best. Maybe if I were to explore, I would soon run out of air (or maybe vice versa) and would have to resurface. Getting dumped out of the ocean is one thing, but the bends is another. Maybe diving in and exploring this is a bad idea. But I see something in the depths. I feel it. How can I ignore it? How can I stay here and never go? I could go to the reef. Reefs are safe; stable. But how can I ever forget those endless depths of the unknown? Even if I had to come back, why couldn't I try? Why couldn't we try?
This right here is why I never posted this. What the fuck am I talking about? That metaphor is constructed worse than slip n' slide built with bristle blocks. It is literally painful to read.
Blog, I'll cut the metaphor for a minute here. Thank God. I want to try this out. Even if it's built to break, even though there are so many signs that say we shouldn't, even though I've done so much to damage it... I want to try. And if I experience a whole new level of heartache, then I have experienced a whole new level of love. I know all the pain I've been through, and I remember it all as I bring those memories back. And all of that heartache, all of those tears and all that regret combined is worth a shot at this.
Wisdom, if I do say so myself.
...
If I'm being honest with you, I wonder now if I've placed her on a pedestal. I've ignored anything with her picture because she is too fucking beautiful. I sometimes think I might be the only one that really sees that. I mean really sees it. I can't even describe the feeling. It's like I want to... absorb her. I don't know, that's really all I can think of. Like I want to hold her so close that we occupy the same space to a scientifically impossible degree, as if our images overlapped. Is it all in my head, or is it all in my heart? I don't know. I wish I knew. I wish I didn't regret running away as much as I have. I wish the conviction I felt once hadn't been so terribly battered. I'm breaking down.
I don't know if I'm making sense. I don't know about you, but I'm following along. I guess I wrote it, though. I'm starting to get the bed ("bad". Though I imagine I was having bed feelings at this point too) feeling that this whole post is a mistake. But I'm going to push through it because I think there has been a lack of communication. And yes, I should say a lot of ("to") this in person. But, like I said, I'm scared. So much for pushing through and communicating. A coward to the end, I suppose.
...I'm trying to be interested in other people. It's a hard thing to say and I don't know why. I guess it goes back to worrying what people will do; how they'll react. I think a lot of the time, I promise feelings that I can't deliver in circumstantial situations. "We'll always be friends" is the biggest one, I think. It's not that the prospect of being together was the only thing holding us together, but sometimes things change and there is no overlooking it. I can't dissolve my feelings. I need to escape and dispose of them. I've got to get away. But it's so hard when I want to stay. Fuck you, old me! I'm doing it.
I didn't really get to say everything I wanted, but my head is killing me.
This is why it's good not only to keep a record of what you think, feel, and do, but also to go back and read it once in a while. If you take anything from this whole thing, take this piece of advice: go back and look it all over. Revisit your thoughts. The insight you gain about yourself is incredible. Everything changes when you take a trip back to visit who you were. I've been known to say it before, but I don't like me 5 years ago. 5 years from now Alex won't like Today Alex, even though Today Alex is fuckin' awesome. I'm sure even 6-months-from-now- Alex won't really be fond of Today Alex, but what can you do?
Learn.
3/13/09 Post it
(I'm trying this quick summary thing. Read this; get the jist. Read on for more info. I don't know whether this girl likes me back or not.) Semi- spoiler! I don't know who I'm talking about yet, but I bet she doesn't!
I have a note on the side of my computer that reads "Keep it to your goddamn self!"
I don't know why she troubles me the way that she does. It has got to be in my head. So, here I write to the abyss of the internet. Remember you're reading my blog. I'm not complaining to you. Aha! A loophole! Stuff it, Thom!
Is it bad that I can't tell if I'm the hero or the villain in my own story? I suppose good or bad is the same as right and wrong; good and evil. These are the things I cannot determine. Am I the heart of the righteous stuck in the body of the wicked, or the malevolent soul presented in a body of innocence? I want to do good, but am I the good that resists the temptation of evil, or am I the evil that seeks redemption? Is my destiny to be all the good which I wish to be, or is it to lay ruin to the supposed goodness I have created?
I really write like this sometimes, not a word of a lie. I just normally don't show anyone. There's a fucking reason for that. These longwinded posts are embarrassing bullshit!
Let me explain. I pride myself in goodness. I am fulfilled by doing what I think to be right, even if it is not the easiest route. But there has been a record so far of 100% violation of supposition among past lovers. Whether this be violation of ideas of fidelity, temperament, deceit, opportunism, or abandonment, there is always an aspect that appears in a relationship, or post relationship, that serves no purpose greater than destruction. Simply put, I hurt the ones I have loved and cared for.
Enter the girl. Yes, the girl. I would be remiss in believing that this girl is the end-all be-all of womankind purely by nature of her virtues - there are many thing that are simply incongruent among us - but somehow she attains the position in my mind of the girl ("the" should be in italics). And perhaps is something that I will talk about later. But for now, I ponder, does not the woman that corrupts man cancel the man that corrupts love?
Perhaps it is the man that corrupts woman? Very well. To an extent, I am that man. Should not then we two form a unison of which none more is perfect? I fear not.
I apologize. In my state I confuse eloquence with verbiage. Yeah, no shit, you pretentious wanker! What the fuck are you trying to say. Jesus Christ, this is the worst thing ever...
Why aren't things working? Why aren't we together? We want what we cannot have. Perhaps, by making up my mind on the course of action to take, I am no longer available. Perhaps I project this emotion more than I am aware. I know in my mind that it is impossible, and purely by virtue of impossibility is it something which I desire? Do I want what I cannot have because I have concluded that I cannot have it? Perhaps, though I did want it before I reached such conclusion. Is she so observant, though, that she perceives my decision and thus has become attracted to that which I have decided she cannot have? Perhaps. Now, supposing that both of these are true, am I not free to retract my previous conclusion and thus formally admit that my conclusion was invalid and that we two must be together?
I think I was in a philosophy class at the time, and they all write like this. Maybe I could make sense of it then, but I sure can't pull it apart now. Maybe philosophers need to stop being philosophers for a few months before they review their own work. It's like living in France for a few months and coming back to America and ordering jus d'orange. It's orange juice, motherfucker, and you're not cultured, you're a fucking idiot.
Yeah, it confuses me sometimes too. Here it is: if I gave up and the girl now likes me because I am unavailable, can I really just say, "hey, I'm all yours!" and things will work out dandy because she likes me? See? That's concise. I get that. I know what I'm talking about here.
They won't. She won't. The feelings are contingent. There is only one course to take.
I really should keep it to myself.
Okay, I was wrong. The girl may have liked me at the time. Although, that was a full year ago! That's incredible. Maybe I was right then. Maybe she didn't like me a year ago. A year is a longer time than I give it credit. It doesn't feel that long looking back, but it really is a long time. I could go on about "what ifs" and muse about the possibilities of what could have been, but that'd end up sounding like all the garbage I wrote a year ago! So here is my conclusion: I made my choices.
These next ones are over a year old, but they were in my "draft" folder, so what the hell!
1/28/09 Proof that Women are greater than Men
A lot of people on both sides of the gender spectrum (oh, it totally is a spectrum) believe that men are better than women. But I have proof that this is not the case.
All women carry our future sons their entire lives.
All men are born of women.
It takes the defiance of many men for a boy to become a man, yet only the love of a single woman.
Through hail of bullets and rain of bombs, between polished swords and sharpened spears, under thrown rocks and over the pitched fires of men a man can resist, but the absence of a woman can leave a man destroyed.
Oh how poetical... shit. To put it another way: women are man's only weakness.
1/23/09 Inequality
Men an women are different. I don't care what you say, but they are. There is a reason why boys like practical academics and girls like visual aesthetics (not that one does not grow to appreciate the other).
Men were made by scientists and women were made by artists.
This is where I wrote a little play about the creation of man and woman.
Genitus: Hurry up, everybody! The deadline's here and God needs these last bits!
Enter Penus.
Genitus: Ah! Penus. What do you have for us?
Penus: Check this out.
Penus whips out the first wang.
Penus: I call it The Penus!
Genitus: Wow, that's... something.
Penus: No, check this out!
The Penus erects.
Penus: Eh? Eh?! Totally involuntary! No bones or nothing.
Genitus: Ha! That is totally awesome! God's gonna be stoked!
Penus: I know, eh?
Penus plays with his newest invention.
Genitus: "The Penis," right?
Genitus scribbles on his clipboard.
Genitus: ...N, I, S.
Penus looks up from the willie.
Penus: Hmm?
Genitus: So, how does it work.
Penus: That's the best part. I was working with Testiclulus on this one. It shoots stuff. Testucles
Enter Testucles, slightly out of breath.
Testucles: Sorry, boss. Here it is.
Testucles holds up a pair of testicles.
Genitus: I don't follow.
Testucles: They're like mini factories. They make these little tiny cells with tails that can swim.
Genitus: Can I see?
Testucles: Just be careful. They're a little delicate.
Genitus: How delicate?
Testucles: Well, it's a complicated system. They're really sensitive and need to be kept at about 33 degrees.
Genitus checks his clipboard.
Genitus: Not 37 degrees?
Testucles: No.
Genitus: So what the hell are we going to do about that?
Testucles: I got it all planned out. We keep 'em in a bag.
Genitus: In a bag?! They're going to lose them!
Testucles: No, like a skin bag.
Genitus: A skin bag? Testucles, we can't afford that much material.
Enter Scrotus hurriedly.
Scrotus: Master! Master! I found something!
Scrotus hands Testucles fistfulls of skin.
Scrotus: They're elbow skin that God was just throwing away!
Testucles: That explains all the hair.
Penus hits Testucles with The Penus.
Penus: I thought we agreed on no hair!
Testucles: I'm sorry! Look, it's the best we can do.
Genitus: I'll let you sort that out for a minute while I check the design for Woman.
Penus, Testucles, and Scrotus huddle together.
Enter Vagino and Ovariam.
Genitus: Vagino! Ovarium! What do you have for us?
Vagino: Genitus, I say with no ego that this is our greatest creation. It's hidden, protected, sleek, soft, runs like clockwork, never needs replacing.
Genitus: Impressive! How does it work?
Ovariam: So, I've got these two little balls-
Genitus slaps his face into his palm.
Genitus: Calibrated to 33 degrees?
Ovariam: No. 37. Who calibrated to 33?
Genitus looks over his shouler at Penus, Testucles, and Scrotum.
Testucles: -no, no, you've got to pin it here!
Genitus turns back to Vagino and Ovariam.
Genitus: Doesn't matter.
Vagino looks over.
Vagino: What are they doing?
Genitus: Please, continue.
Ovariam: Right. So I have these balls. We can call the ovaries to avoid confusion. Anyway, so they are filled with, like, thousands and thousands of eggs-
Genitus: And the woman simply releases an egg when she wants to bear a child! Brilliant!
Pause.
Ovariam: We were thinking more of a timed release.
Genitus: So, they just sort of leak eggs from time to time?
Awkward pause.
Ovariam: You could say that.
Genitus: What happens?
Ovariam: Well, it's more than just an egg. But don't worry. We've devised a hormonal mechanism to keep it hidden.
Genitus: All right, I'll trust you know what you're doing. So, the egg comes out and then the man shoots Testucles' swimming cells onto it and it makes a baby, right?
Ovariam: Well, no. The baby has to grow inside here in this big chamber.
Genitus stares.
Genitus: And then...
Ovariam: Then you have a baby.
Genitus: How does the baby get out?
Ovariam and Vagino exchange looks.
Vagino: Ohhhhh no. No no no no no. No way. This is a masterpiece!
Ovariam (lowered voice): Vag, you're making me look bad.
Vagino: Ovariam, you make yourself look bad. We're not cramming a baby through my Vagina.
Ovariam: It's too late to change everything. C'mon, Vagino. It's the only way!
Vagino (sighs): Fine.
Genitus: Great! I've got to write up a report for God right now. Feel free to share your project with the other.
Genitus exits.
The huddled group of Penus, Testucles, and Scrotus opens up to reveal their package.
Penus: Ta-dah!
Vagino: eugh.
Next week: Gentius tries to explain to God how these parts are used to make new people.
I'm not thrilled with Ovariam and Vagino. They're not quite as entertaining as the stooges that are Penus, Testucles and Scrotus. Also, I'm more of an expert on the poor design of male genitalia than I am with regards to how women feel about their genitals. I don't know if anyone else finds it as funny as I do, but come on, a man's junk is the most poorly designed part of nature on a whole.
Hooray! You either read everything or scrolled to the bottom and said "Fuck that!"
Either way, thanks for getting to this point!
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Thought Experiment
Okay, readers, I'm drunk as balls.
Why? Well, I have to pick my long lost buddy up in six and a hlaf hours, so I though the liquor would calm me down enough to sleep. Jagermeister just gets me excited. Jag and 80's music.
There was a point to writing this blog. Something about people at work...
Right! I miss the deaf guy! There was a deaf guy who used to come into the grocery store and I really miss him. I miss the non-verbal communication. I miss being able to talk to someone without having to talk. Fuck, man, he was awesome. But everyday at work it seems like I say words that no one hears. "Your total is $195.85. Debit? Stripe side out." And then they still put the fucking stripe in.
Fuckin' Deaf Guy and and I used to be way cooler. You know, we'd just see each other and nod like we knew what the shit was going down. None of the service industry bullshit. We both knew the score. He was buying food, I was selling it. Why put on a show? He and I could nod acknowledgment, point out pricing, and motion to one another what we needed.
We were always glad to see one another. It's like we were company. We got to know each other on a semi professional level. Not just a sales clerk to a patron and not quite a friend to a friend, but... kinda like people who waited at the same bus stop.
Shit, man, I don't know. I'm drunk as fuck and I don't know what I'm writing about.
I like those knowing smiles. I like knowing about someone. I like that idea of a special bond. Maybe I'm losing that, maybe I'm finding that, maybe it's just over the horizon.
Let me say for now that I will try to clarify tomorrow when I sober up. For now it is time to sleep. Fuckin' finally.
Why? Well, I have to pick my long lost buddy up in six and a hlaf hours, so I though the liquor would calm me down enough to sleep. Jagermeister just gets me excited. Jag and 80's music.
There was a point to writing this blog. Something about people at work...
Right! I miss the deaf guy! There was a deaf guy who used to come into the grocery store and I really miss him. I miss the non-verbal communication. I miss being able to talk to someone without having to talk. Fuck, man, he was awesome. But everyday at work it seems like I say words that no one hears. "Your total is $195.85. Debit? Stripe side out." And then they still put the fucking stripe in.
Fuckin' Deaf Guy and and I used to be way cooler. You know, we'd just see each other and nod like we knew what the shit was going down. None of the service industry bullshit. We both knew the score. He was buying food, I was selling it. Why put on a show? He and I could nod acknowledgment, point out pricing, and motion to one another what we needed.
We were always glad to see one another. It's like we were company. We got to know each other on a semi professional level. Not just a sales clerk to a patron and not quite a friend to a friend, but... kinda like people who waited at the same bus stop.
Shit, man, I don't know. I'm drunk as fuck and I don't know what I'm writing about.
I like those knowing smiles. I like knowing about someone. I like that idea of a special bond. Maybe I'm losing that, maybe I'm finding that, maybe it's just over the horizon.
Let me say for now that I will try to clarify tomorrow when I sober up. For now it is time to sleep. Fuckin' finally.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Capacity
I wonder if people have a certain capacity for life, or if life only has a certain capacity for people.
It seems like life moves on and people come and go. When someone comes in, someone is pushed out. When someone is pushed out, we bring in someone new. So I wonder if that is the way the world works, like the way the world is brought to an equilibrium on all things, or if we just don't make the effort.
You all know me. I let the world do what the world is going to do. I try to live on the surface rather than change the way things happen (even though I have, as the very name of my blog suggests, numerous problems with the world). So I wonder if the fluctuation of people within lives is due to my action/inaction, or whether it is due wholly to the ways of the world.
Here's an example: I broke up with my girlfriend a long while back (yeah, she dumped me, whatever) and I chose not to talk to her. I chose inaction. We since have spoken very few words to one another. I have better relationships with some people who I don't know the names of. On the other hand, I know a couple who broke up and tried to stay friends. As far as I can tell this resulted in some hurtful exchanges and now they are, again, as far as I know, not speaking. It seems that the course can be altered, but not the destination.
This makes me wonder if we have any control over the people who come and go out of our lives. Do we have any more control over that than we do over the flow of time?
Maybe not, but I should give some old friends a call.
It seems like life moves on and people come and go. When someone comes in, someone is pushed out. When someone is pushed out, we bring in someone new. So I wonder if that is the way the world works, like the way the world is brought to an equilibrium on all things, or if we just don't make the effort.
You all know me. I let the world do what the world is going to do. I try to live on the surface rather than change the way things happen (even though I have, as the very name of my blog suggests, numerous problems with the world). So I wonder if the fluctuation of people within lives is due to my action/inaction, or whether it is due wholly to the ways of the world.
Here's an example: I broke up with my girlfriend a long while back (yeah, she dumped me, whatever) and I chose not to talk to her. I chose inaction. We since have spoken very few words to one another. I have better relationships with some people who I don't know the names of. On the other hand, I know a couple who broke up and tried to stay friends. As far as I can tell this resulted in some hurtful exchanges and now they are, again, as far as I know, not speaking. It seems that the course can be altered, but not the destination.
This makes me wonder if we have any control over the people who come and go out of our lives. Do we have any more control over that than we do over the flow of time?
Maybe not, but I should give some old friends a call.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Never Like Anyone
This is how misogynistic men are born. Never like anyone because they'll just as soon turn their back on you as look at you. That's right, one minute they're ready to leap into be with you and the next minute they wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole. Maybe it's their "whimsical gender," or maybe it's all part of a grand scheme.
I, for one, am fucking sick of it, and I think I'm becoming something that I once hated. But that's the way life goes sometimes. Things change, people change, times change, and before you know it, you change too.
I, for one, am fucking sick of it, and I think I'm becoming something that I once hated. But that's the way life goes sometimes. Things change, people change, times change, and before you know it, you change too.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
I had a dream...
Last night was all sorts of crazy. It was about death, in three parts.
Part 1
I'm on the river rafting with my first girlfriend. I didn't really want to be there, but it seemed like such a great day for rafting that I might as well enjoy it. We rafted down the wide, winding river lazily; we soaked in the sun and the sights. But before we knew it, the river picked up speed and we started to collide with other deserted rafts. I should mention that when I say "raft" I don't mean an inflatable dingy, but a traditional planks-and-logs kind of thing. I was sure I could navigate us through, but my ex was worried and sceptical. What's really strange is that we came out to a labyrinth of aqueducts and waterways. The raft became a hover-raft (don't ask 'cause I don't know) and I simply flew over the whole system toward the lake on the other side. My ex insists that we're skipping over the best part, so I land it in the waterways. Turns out they're part of the zoo/amusement part and are those water-type rollercoasters. Our raft gets picked up on the unreasonably fast conveyor and brings us up to the top. We whip around a corner and are plummeted down towards the waterways again. I'll admit, while there was an element of fun, there was also the absolute terror in the fact that we were not attached. The raft was not designed for this track. We were taken up another ramp, but we hadn't lost much momentum. We round the corner at the top and, with nothing to hold onto, I am cast off the edge. From a wide angle shot from the shore I see my body fall seventy feet towards the water with speed and grace like I fell out of the back of a pickup truck. Just before contact, I wake up.
Part 2
I went back to sleep A) to see if I could resume and save myself (with the brilliant plan of pulling myself into a dive and cutting through the water like a dolphin in a show. I did not. The ending was cut from when I last woke up. But soon after, I start a new story.
It's me and the love of my life. It's the holidays and her parents (who are actually another girl's parents, I just know and like them better) are having their friends over constantly. I suggest to the girl that we get away from it all and hide away in my treehouse, which is literally a modern cabin built in a tree. Before I know it, there are two men at the door (of my treehouse). The girl opens the door. They don't say a word. They shoot her and walk quickly through the house. I duck out a side door and and call the secret service (again, don't ask. I just know them, I guess). I scream and panic and threaten the men.
Part 3
My sister's boyfriend (the love of her life) who lives across the street from the treehouse came to investigate. He opens the door and before he gets a chance to even speak, the men kill him too. I could try and stop them, but I've already died in my dreams once today. I would barely step in the room before I was shot dead too. Though, given the rest of the dream, it may have been better to have died.
Epilogue
I return to the parents' house. It all happened a minute ago to me, and is years ago for them. The same holiday party. The same people. The livelihood is superficial, but they're trying. I remember a line to a song:
"Love of mine, someday you will die, but I'll be close behind to follow you into the dark."
I've almost got myself convinced to kill myself, but I knew she wouldn't want that. If she was waiting there for me, she'd wait for me until my time came. But she wasn't waiting. There was no sense dying. No real sense in living other than you can't change your mind about it later. So there I was, the world around my moving while my life had ground to a stop under the burden of a lost love and the guilt of the loss of another's love. I don't know what I could have done to stop him from being killed, but I feel like I could have done something.
-
I'm on that old raft again, drifting down the river. The world lacks even the indication of colour. I look at the shore and there is her mother driving her car on the road along the bank. She looks at me and I stare at her. She's drained, somewhat emptied, but hopeful at the same time. She is who the girl would have been. She is who the girl will never be. She is the woman I will never know.
Part 1
I'm on the river rafting with my first girlfriend. I didn't really want to be there, but it seemed like such a great day for rafting that I might as well enjoy it. We rafted down the wide, winding river lazily; we soaked in the sun and the sights. But before we knew it, the river picked up speed and we started to collide with other deserted rafts. I should mention that when I say "raft" I don't mean an inflatable dingy, but a traditional planks-and-logs kind of thing. I was sure I could navigate us through, but my ex was worried and sceptical. What's really strange is that we came out to a labyrinth of aqueducts and waterways. The raft became a hover-raft (don't ask 'cause I don't know) and I simply flew over the whole system toward the lake on the other side. My ex insists that we're skipping over the best part, so I land it in the waterways. Turns out they're part of the zoo/amusement part and are those water-type rollercoasters. Our raft gets picked up on the unreasonably fast conveyor and brings us up to the top. We whip around a corner and are plummeted down towards the waterways again. I'll admit, while there was an element of fun, there was also the absolute terror in the fact that we were not attached. The raft was not designed for this track. We were taken up another ramp, but we hadn't lost much momentum. We round the corner at the top and, with nothing to hold onto, I am cast off the edge. From a wide angle shot from the shore I see my body fall seventy feet towards the water with speed and grace like I fell out of the back of a pickup truck. Just before contact, I wake up.
Part 2
I went back to sleep A) to see if I could resume and save myself (with the brilliant plan of pulling myself into a dive and cutting through the water like a dolphin in a show. I did not. The ending was cut from when I last woke up. But soon after, I start a new story.
It's me and the love of my life. It's the holidays and her parents (who are actually another girl's parents, I just know and like them better) are having their friends over constantly. I suggest to the girl that we get away from it all and hide away in my treehouse, which is literally a modern cabin built in a tree. Before I know it, there are two men at the door (of my treehouse). The girl opens the door. They don't say a word. They shoot her and walk quickly through the house. I duck out a side door and and call the secret service (again, don't ask. I just know them, I guess). I scream and panic and threaten the men.
Part 3
My sister's boyfriend (the love of her life) who lives across the street from the treehouse came to investigate. He opens the door and before he gets a chance to even speak, the men kill him too. I could try and stop them, but I've already died in my dreams once today. I would barely step in the room before I was shot dead too. Though, given the rest of the dream, it may have been better to have died.
Epilogue
I return to the parents' house. It all happened a minute ago to me, and is years ago for them. The same holiday party. The same people. The livelihood is superficial, but they're trying. I remember a line to a song:
"Love of mine, someday you will die, but I'll be close behind to follow you into the dark."
I've almost got myself convinced to kill myself, but I knew she wouldn't want that. If she was waiting there for me, she'd wait for me until my time came. But she wasn't waiting. There was no sense dying. No real sense in living other than you can't change your mind about it later. So there I was, the world around my moving while my life had ground to a stop under the burden of a lost love and the guilt of the loss of another's love. I don't know what I could have done to stop him from being killed, but I feel like I could have done something.
-
I'm on that old raft again, drifting down the river. The world lacks even the indication of colour. I look at the shore and there is her mother driving her car on the road along the bank. She looks at me and I stare at her. She's drained, somewhat emptied, but hopeful at the same time. She is who the girl would have been. She is who the girl will never be. She is the woman I will never know.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Two Wrongs Make A Right
Dear Blog,
It has been said that the best way for a man to live is to be true to himself. Well, blog, I am a bastard; a complete and total bastard. I lie and cheat, and to add to my repertoire of evil I want ever so dearly to steal. What's more is that I want to revoke the righteousness of another as much as I want invoke the impurity of another. I feel as though I want to taint that which is near me. But at the same time I feel evangelical about it; as if the wicked is the truth and from it breeds sense and balance. It's as if I want to corrupt people with the life I know to be true.
I've done it before, too. I've incurred trust, both sexually and emotionally, to those who (at least have told me) hold it so dear that they would never think to give it to anyone. Perhaps I am a thief in that respect. But to me that trust is a virtue that I want to make grow. I want her to see that love is the greatest thing that anyone can ever ask for in life and that it can be trusted in me. I want her to trust that I would cater to her every desire.
I want her to trust that under all the deceit, under all the malicious thoughts, under all the vices, under all the evil that is founded to my very core; I want her to trust that loyalty is the virtue common among the wicked and the righteous, if she only cares to have it.
It has been said that the best way for a man to live is to be true to himself. Well, blog, I am a bastard; a complete and total bastard. I lie and cheat, and to add to my repertoire of evil I want ever so dearly to steal. What's more is that I want to revoke the righteousness of another as much as I want invoke the impurity of another. I feel as though I want to taint that which is near me. But at the same time I feel evangelical about it; as if the wicked is the truth and from it breeds sense and balance. It's as if I want to corrupt people with the life I know to be true.
I've done it before, too. I've incurred trust, both sexually and emotionally, to those who (at least have told me) hold it so dear that they would never think to give it to anyone. Perhaps I am a thief in that respect. But to me that trust is a virtue that I want to make grow. I want her to see that love is the greatest thing that anyone can ever ask for in life and that it can be trusted in me. I want her to trust that I would cater to her every desire.
I want her to trust that under all the deceit, under all the malicious thoughts, under all the vices, under all the evil that is founded to my very core; I want her to trust that loyalty is the virtue common among the wicked and the righteous, if she only cares to have it.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Relationship House
Relationships are like houses. At first they are new and exciting. You develop them and explore them and fantasize about all the big plans you have for them. You talk about it and share it with the world. And eventually two types of people can develop.
One type of person always wants something new and exciting. They want bright colours all the time and new furniture. These people like to keep things tucked away in their place, either to only be seen when used, or to be forgotten entirely.
The other type of person has lived-in the house. They want things to be comfortable and hate to throw things away. Trinkets of memory and self expression litter any and every unused surface, exposed in the context of the house.
The second person wants to stay in that old house forever. They will try to take it with them even when it is condemned and demolished; even something as plain as a doorknob has meaning and value.
The first person wants a bigger house, like the ones you see on TV. They want lots of open/empty space to show their friends how much better their house is.
Regardless of the house, home is where the heart is.
One type of person always wants something new and exciting. They want bright colours all the time and new furniture. These people like to keep things tucked away in their place, either to only be seen when used, or to be forgotten entirely.
The other type of person has lived-in the house. They want things to be comfortable and hate to throw things away. Trinkets of memory and self expression litter any and every unused surface, exposed in the context of the house.
The second person wants to stay in that old house forever. They will try to take it with them even when it is condemned and demolished; even something as plain as a doorknob has meaning and value.
The first person wants a bigger house, like the ones you see on TV. They want lots of open/empty space to show their friends how much better their house is.
Regardless of the house, home is where the heart is.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Standard of Living
I think it must be an element of the human condition to desire in life the most what we do not have; to want to do what we can't do, or what we are, or at one point were, bad at. Some people aren't smart and think that life is better when you are educated. Some people are poor and think that life is better when you are rich. Some people are single and think that life is better being together.
What is odd is that only that last fact can go the other way. No rich person ever says, "fuck, what I'd do to just be poor!" No educated person ever says, "I wish I never learned any of that!" Maybe they'll say, "that was a waste of time," but they don't knock the education, just the time it takes. But people in relationships always seem to be able to wish they were single. Becoming single is easy. "This isn't working out." It's four to five words, depending on how well you enunciate. It's the reverse that is hard. Granted, "do you want to go out?" is only six words, but there is an argumentative factor. The response affects the outcome. You can't break up with someone and then they refuse to break up with you. That's not how it works.
One might say that it is the irreversibility of the process that is daunting. But education is also irreversible. So how can we say that one irreversible process is entirely positive while another is not? One might say that education doesn't hurt anyone, but we must always look deeper. Classes often fill completely up. Programs are often waitlisted. Your enlistment often ensures that someone misses their chance. Someone suffers the detriment of your benefit.
Being single is sometimes necessary, much like it is necessary that every start out uneducated, and that it is good for some people to be poor. But just because it's necessary and sometimes can be fun (let's face it, knowlegde can be a burden and finances bring a certain financial responsibility. Also, there is class comrodery. It's lonely at the top, they say) doesn't mean that it's ideal.
But this is just me. Some people must want to be single, just like some people might want to be poor and uneducated. Spiritual enlightenment, afterall, disregards institutional learning and material possessions.
What is odd is that only that last fact can go the other way. No rich person ever says, "fuck, what I'd do to just be poor!" No educated person ever says, "I wish I never learned any of that!" Maybe they'll say, "that was a waste of time," but they don't knock the education, just the time it takes. But people in relationships always seem to be able to wish they were single. Becoming single is easy. "This isn't working out." It's four to five words, depending on how well you enunciate. It's the reverse that is hard. Granted, "do you want to go out?" is only six words, but there is an argumentative factor. The response affects the outcome. You can't break up with someone and then they refuse to break up with you. That's not how it works.
One might say that it is the irreversibility of the process that is daunting. But education is also irreversible. So how can we say that one irreversible process is entirely positive while another is not? One might say that education doesn't hurt anyone, but we must always look deeper. Classes often fill completely up. Programs are often waitlisted. Your enlistment often ensures that someone misses their chance. Someone suffers the detriment of your benefit.
Being single is sometimes necessary, much like it is necessary that every start out uneducated, and that it is good for some people to be poor. But just because it's necessary and sometimes can be fun (let's face it, knowlegde can be a burden and finances bring a certain financial responsibility. Also, there is class comrodery. It's lonely at the top, they say) doesn't mean that it's ideal.
But this is just me. Some people must want to be single, just like some people might want to be poor and uneducated. Spiritual enlightenment, afterall, disregards institutional learning and material possessions.
Those who can't do...
Real life is really fucking hard. There are so many things that can go wrong. It's not standardized and you can't just go back and correct your mistakes when you fuck up.
School is easy. A lot of people have trouble with it, but you just have to do the work. It's simple. And if you do fuck up, you just try again.
A lot of people say that's the same with life, but it just isn't. So many things are unique. When you fuck up a relationship, it's hard to fix. In school you can scrap it all and start over. Some people say that about relationships, but I think they miss the point.
A relationship can have all the same variables the fundamental grounds of the relationship are different for every person you are with. Every relationship is unique. In school, the variables all change, but the question is always the same. You can practise over and over with no consequence to anyone. It's all the same and you can only get better at it.
Plus, you get to take breaks from school and when you do, nothing has changed.
School is easy. A lot of people have trouble with it, but you just have to do the work. It's simple. And if you do fuck up, you just try again.
A lot of people say that's the same with life, but it just isn't. So many things are unique. When you fuck up a relationship, it's hard to fix. In school you can scrap it all and start over. Some people say that about relationships, but I think they miss the point.
A relationship can have all the same variables the fundamental grounds of the relationship are different for every person you are with. Every relationship is unique. In school, the variables all change, but the question is always the same. You can practise over and over with no consequence to anyone. It's all the same and you can only get better at it.
Plus, you get to take breaks from school and when you do, nothing has changed.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Backup Strategies
I think the worst thing about backup strategies is that if you have doubts about the success of Plan A, what reason do you have to believe that Plan B will be anymore successful? Plan B is just as capable of failure as Plan A was. So why the hell have a Plan B? Or why not have an infinite regression of alternate plans?
What's worse is when you take a Plan A, swap it for Plan B, because Plan A seems bust, and then when Plan B fails you think you can resort to Plan A as your "Plan B". Well, guess what? It doesn't work that way. When life is in Fail-Mode, no amount of planning in the world can stop it.
My problem with the whole "wing it" strategy is that it lacks commitment. I want to commit. I want to turn things away because I'm already in something. It's kind of like those assignments in school that were completely open. When you can do anything you want, you can't ever think of what you want. There needs to be some restrictions, some limitations. There needs to be boundaries that can be pushed before you're really creating anything. Otherwise you're just making a big fucking mess.
What's worse is when you take a Plan A, swap it for Plan B, because Plan A seems bust, and then when Plan B fails you think you can resort to Plan A as your "Plan B". Well, guess what? It doesn't work that way. When life is in Fail-Mode, no amount of planning in the world can stop it.
My problem with the whole "wing it" strategy is that it lacks commitment. I want to commit. I want to turn things away because I'm already in something. It's kind of like those assignments in school that were completely open. When you can do anything you want, you can't ever think of what you want. There needs to be some restrictions, some limitations. There needs to be boundaries that can be pushed before you're really creating anything. Otherwise you're just making a big fucking mess.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Balls.
In a word, Fuck.
In a longer word, FFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCKKKK!!
I can't not think about things. It's all fine and dandy to "let things happen," but I just can never not think about what could happen. And then I'm left disappointed when it doesn't. I need a time machine to go back to art school when I was in my first year and do it all differently. I think I wasted my early years worrying about how not to waste them instead of wasting them having fun. Now it seems like I'm too old to have fun. Not that 23 is old, but in the surroundings of almost entirely 18 year olds, I'm ancient.
I guess I have to play catch up on life. Finish school, get a job, and be the same kind of miserable everyone else is. Maybe then I can change it from the inside.
In a longer word, FFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCKKKK!!
I can't not think about things. It's all fine and dandy to "let things happen," but I just can never not think about what could happen. And then I'm left disappointed when it doesn't. I need a time machine to go back to art school when I was in my first year and do it all differently. I think I wasted my early years worrying about how not to waste them instead of wasting them having fun. Now it seems like I'm too old to have fun. Not that 23 is old, but in the surroundings of almost entirely 18 year olds, I'm ancient.
I guess I have to play catch up on life. Finish school, get a job, and be the same kind of miserable everyone else is. Maybe then I can change it from the inside.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Facebook: The Social Radar System
I've started to notice the total absence of sociability on the Facebooks. It has started to become a weird combination of two things:
I'm not saying that I'm an advocate for keeping connected with Facebook. If I was I'd be Facebooking all the time and making lots of comments and plans and keeping in touch with all the people from way back when like we always say we will but never actually do. Now I'm finding myself, however, having to keep my head down on the old Facebooks. I suppose it has happened a few times in the past, but it's just an odd feeling. I don't know what is wierder, feeling like I have to keep off the grid or wanting to be on the grid.
For those of you who remember the disasterous Jenn-Charlotte situation, I contemplated quiting the Facebook then. I'm starting to think that it's a not bad idea. Granted, it is a way for people to inform me of things that are happening and for me to look at what other people are up to, but maybe it's time to step up the sociability and kick the network out of this social network. If I want to know how someone is, I should have to try some form of active communication to find out, rather than reconstruct a plausible timeline based on cross referencing photos, comments, and statuses between a number of friends and even friends of friends...
Then again, part of me really likes that. It's like playing Detective. Social Detective. Only like an 8 year old because you don't want to talk to people.
Playing make-believe is fun.
- a training blog
- a voluntary low-end spy system
I'm not saying that I'm an advocate for keeping connected with Facebook. If I was I'd be Facebooking all the time and making lots of comments and plans and keeping in touch with all the people from way back when like we always say we will but never actually do. Now I'm finding myself, however, having to keep my head down on the old Facebooks. I suppose it has happened a few times in the past, but it's just an odd feeling. I don't know what is wierder, feeling like I have to keep off the grid or wanting to be on the grid.
For those of you who remember the disasterous Jenn-Charlotte situation, I contemplated quiting the Facebook then. I'm starting to think that it's a not bad idea. Granted, it is a way for people to inform me of things that are happening and for me to look at what other people are up to, but maybe it's time to step up the sociability and kick the network out of this social network. If I want to know how someone is, I should have to try some form of active communication to find out, rather than reconstruct a plausible timeline based on cross referencing photos, comments, and statuses between a number of friends and even friends of friends...
Then again, part of me really likes that. It's like playing Detective. Social Detective. Only like an 8 year old because you don't want to talk to people.
Playing make-believe is fun.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Maturation
I must be getting old.
Remember back in the day when you were a teenager and the most important part of a sexy dream is that you totally boned someone? Sort of like how the most important part of a sex scene in a movie was the fact that you saw boobies. But as we grow older we refine our tastes and understand that sometimes less is more. Sometimes an implication is better than a statement (or visual statement, as the case may be). We even come to realize that not getting what we want is often more enjoyable than getting it right away. We no longer have a need for the gratuitousness of sex (on a side note, why is the word "gratuity" used for tips? Shouldn't it be gratituity? I henceforth will object to paying gratuities on the basis that it is completely unnecessary).
I'm not going to go into details about this dream I had. Though I'm sure it is inferred that is was a particularly good dream, I assure you that you assume too much. It was good in the sense that a cup of tea is good compared to the goodness of a Dirty German (French Toasted Cheese and Bacon Pancake Sandwich grilled in Maple Syrup. Don't ask why it's a called that, I don't remember). Again, it wasn't gratuitous.
Some might say that it is boring or sad to have the realism of a dream be not in the vividness of boundless experience but rather in the modesty of situation. While some people have dreams about flying or superpowers or whatnot, I have dreams about attending lectures, volunteering to speak at a seminar, and all my real relationships being exactly the way they are in real life. But in the end, there is always something to be learned, something to be taken away and even shared here on the internet with the people who are even just curious about what I have to say.
From this dream I have learned this: It feels better to be wanted than to be had.
Maybe you can apply this to your lives. I know, much to my chagrin, that I can.
Remember back in the day when you were a teenager and the most important part of a sexy dream is that you totally boned someone? Sort of like how the most important part of a sex scene in a movie was the fact that you saw boobies. But as we grow older we refine our tastes and understand that sometimes less is more. Sometimes an implication is better than a statement (or visual statement, as the case may be). We even come to realize that not getting what we want is often more enjoyable than getting it right away. We no longer have a need for the gratuitousness of sex (on a side note, why is the word "gratuity" used for tips? Shouldn't it be gratituity? I henceforth will object to paying gratuities on the basis that it is completely unnecessary).
I'm not going to go into details about this dream I had. Though I'm sure it is inferred that is was a particularly good dream, I assure you that you assume too much. It was good in the sense that a cup of tea is good compared to the goodness of a Dirty German (French Toasted Cheese and Bacon Pancake Sandwich grilled in Maple Syrup. Don't ask why it's a called that, I don't remember). Again, it wasn't gratuitous.
Some might say that it is boring or sad to have the realism of a dream be not in the vividness of boundless experience but rather in the modesty of situation. While some people have dreams about flying or superpowers or whatnot, I have dreams about attending lectures, volunteering to speak at a seminar, and all my real relationships being exactly the way they are in real life. But in the end, there is always something to be learned, something to be taken away and even shared here on the internet with the people who are even just curious about what I have to say.
From this dream I have learned this: It feels better to be wanted than to be had.
Maybe you can apply this to your lives. I know, much to my chagrin, that I can.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Be Married
I just finished catching up with one of the few people I met last year at school. When I first met her I thought to myself "now here is a very attractive, smart, cheerful, bright, all around positive woman my age and she's sitting down next to me and talking to me. This can't be happening."
I soon found out in that semester that she was engaged to be married this past summer. After that, I had no problems talking to her. There really wasn't anything for me to be nervous about. There wasn't anything on the line.
I tried to work myself up to talk to this other girl in the same class. Well, the day I was going to ask her if she wanted to do something was the day she stopped coming to class. I emailed her and asked her what was up and suggested that we get together. She said we should and we back and forth'd a bit, and then I never heard from her again.
This is the case of so many single girls. Hook up with a single girl, get rejected. Talk to a single girl, she leaves the class. Friend of a friend, potential lesbian. Primed for a blind date, mysterious disappearance. Try and sit next to a girl in class, she moves to the other side of the room.
My conclusion is thus: Fuck single girls. One of the most fun times I've ever had in my life is stealing a girl from her boyfriend. Yeah, that ended poorly, and the type of girl that'll leave her boyfriend for me is the type of girl that'll leave me for her new boyfriend, but shit, that wasn't so bad, was it? So maybe the plan should be to subvert boyfriend "authority" and steal a girl who is already taken.
For all the talk I do about not wanting to do marketing because I don't like the idea of a competitive market, I sure do like winning. I like being better than someone else. And watching a social dynamic shift in my favour is the highest form of entertainment I have ever experienced.
Maybe I am enough of a bastard for marketing.
I soon found out in that semester that she was engaged to be married this past summer. After that, I had no problems talking to her. There really wasn't anything for me to be nervous about. There wasn't anything on the line.
I tried to work myself up to talk to this other girl in the same class. Well, the day I was going to ask her if she wanted to do something was the day she stopped coming to class. I emailed her and asked her what was up and suggested that we get together. She said we should and we back and forth'd a bit, and then I never heard from her again.
This is the case of so many single girls. Hook up with a single girl, get rejected. Talk to a single girl, she leaves the class. Friend of a friend, potential lesbian. Primed for a blind date, mysterious disappearance. Try and sit next to a girl in class, she moves to the other side of the room.
My conclusion is thus: Fuck single girls. One of the most fun times I've ever had in my life is stealing a girl from her boyfriend. Yeah, that ended poorly, and the type of girl that'll leave her boyfriend for me is the type of girl that'll leave me for her new boyfriend, but shit, that wasn't so bad, was it? So maybe the plan should be to subvert boyfriend "authority" and steal a girl who is already taken.
For all the talk I do about not wanting to do marketing because I don't like the idea of a competitive market, I sure do like winning. I like being better than someone else. And watching a social dynamic shift in my favour is the highest form of entertainment I have ever experienced.
Maybe I am enough of a bastard for marketing.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
This Isn't The Life
How do vagrants do it? How do they live without having anything? How can they go from place to place without settling? How can they talk to everyone and yet know no one? I couldn't do it. I can't do it. Without a stable base, I can't even talk to new people. I move between the lives in these halls, careful not to intersect (or perhaps unable to).
I guess I'm tired of getting to know someone one semester, dropping them on Facebook, and then never hearing from them again. Not that I make any effort myself to stay in touch; what is there to stay in touch about? How's life? How's school? How's being married? They're all superficial things. It makes me wonder how sending letters used to work. What do you ask people? What do you tell them? Can you ever really get into the issues? Maybe discussions that would take us minutes took people months. It's a scary thought.
Maybe that's why we all like getting mail. Not bills, or flyers, or emails, but real honest mail, handwritten and addressed to you. It seems to mean more, though I don't know what I would ever write. Maybe nowadays mail is reserved for the things we have to say but have a hard time bringing up or talking about at all.
I guess the problem with letters now is that you only get one shot, and you'll most likely be getting a digital response soon after.
I guess I'm tired of getting to know someone one semester, dropping them on Facebook, and then never hearing from them again. Not that I make any effort myself to stay in touch; what is there to stay in touch about? How's life? How's school? How's being married? They're all superficial things. It makes me wonder how sending letters used to work. What do you ask people? What do you tell them? Can you ever really get into the issues? Maybe discussions that would take us minutes took people months. It's a scary thought.
Maybe that's why we all like getting mail. Not bills, or flyers, or emails, but real honest mail, handwritten and addressed to you. It seems to mean more, though I don't know what I would ever write. Maybe nowadays mail is reserved for the things we have to say but have a hard time bringing up or talking about at all.
I guess the problem with letters now is that you only get one shot, and you'll most likely be getting a digital response soon after.
Friday, July 31, 2009
The One
You know, the idea that there is just one perfect person out there for you, while romantic on the surface, is a just a sign of one's inability to commit.
Commitment isn't being with the perfect person; that's just logic. Commitment is being with someone who is imperfect and there always being a possibility of someone out there being more. Commitment is making a choice and standing by it. After all, what happens when you meet that perfect person the day after your wedding? What happens when you meet them twenty years later and you have kids with someone else?
If you believe in "the one," then you either have to cut and run, or live the rest of your life in the misery of knowing that you'll never be with "the one."
Personally, I just want a good one.
Commitment isn't being with the perfect person; that's just logic. Commitment is being with someone who is imperfect and there always being a possibility of someone out there being more. Commitment is making a choice and standing by it. After all, what happens when you meet that perfect person the day after your wedding? What happens when you meet them twenty years later and you have kids with someone else?
If you believe in "the one," then you either have to cut and run, or live the rest of your life in the misery of knowing that you'll never be with "the one."
Personally, I just want a good one.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
A night out.
My brother got married today.
We drank, we laughed, we drank some more.
I want to work at the bank. We went down to the Met afterwards and I tried dancing, but I couldn't get into it. I don't want to dance with some stranger at a bar. What's the point. I looked out the window and saw the bank. I though to myself, "I want to drink me drink because it is Friday, but I want to got to work on Monday morning in my suit and tell people the way that I think the world should be run.
It's weird that the prelude to a marriage if fraught with me thinking that love is above all else in my life and that I wish that I could believe in something more. Yet after the marriage I went out and thought that there was something beyond love that I could want out of life; and that love and a career can occur at the same time... but not tonight.
Tonight, I was a man divided. Though I am always there for my brother, I may also always be caught up wondering about my own life. I wonder, though I don't envision a day like today being held in my honour, if we have a future. I wonder if I can let myself share this, and if you can share this with me. I wonder why tonight no other girl, not in all of their makeup, not in their fanciest dress, not with copious amounts of liquor, and not in the loverly mood of a wedding, I wonder why not one girl could compete with a simple phone call.
Not one.
But, alas, here's to the bride and groom. I hope that I will find my way as you did yours.
We drank, we laughed, we drank some more.
I want to work at the bank. We went down to the Met afterwards and I tried dancing, but I couldn't get into it. I don't want to dance with some stranger at a bar. What's the point. I looked out the window and saw the bank. I though to myself, "I want to drink me drink because it is Friday, but I want to got to work on Monday morning in my suit and tell people the way that I think the world should be run.
It's weird that the prelude to a marriage if fraught with me thinking that love is above all else in my life and that I wish that I could believe in something more. Yet after the marriage I went out and thought that there was something beyond love that I could want out of life; and that love and a career can occur at the same time... but not tonight.
Tonight, I was a man divided. Though I am always there for my brother, I may also always be caught up wondering about my own life. I wonder, though I don't envision a day like today being held in my honour, if we have a future. I wonder if I can let myself share this, and if you can share this with me. I wonder why tonight no other girl, not in all of their makeup, not in their fanciest dress, not with copious amounts of liquor, and not in the loverly mood of a wedding, I wonder why not one girl could compete with a simple phone call.
Not one.
But, alas, here's to the bride and groom. I hope that I will find my way as you did yours.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Fight or Flight
So when is the appropriate time to fight for someone you love? We often here the phrase "if you love her, let her go," though I often think that's "dude, she's such a bitch!" in disguise. That or "you're being such a bitch and I don't want to hear about it anymore."
But what about Love? There is always that mentality that we must fight for the things we love, especially when it comes to women. Why especially with women? Because women are confusing. Women want you to fuck off out of their lives as much as they want to still be friends. So when a girl tells you she likes you and thinks you're great and doesn't want to be in a relationship with you and goes and fucks around with another guy but still wants to be friends... where does that leave you? It's like hooking fingers together while you're at the park, arm's length apart, while she's making out with some other dude. Stay close, don't go away, but idle while I'm with someone else.
Maybe we're not supposed to be idle. Maybe this is one of those things where she doesn't want you to be idle and the other guy is a test of how much you love her. But by "proving your love" you either have to be a total asshole and try and break them up, or you have to careen down the road to the Friend Zone where you and your girl will be reunited in love... totally platonic love.
I think about 1% of the female population sees the problem with that. It's like selling your independent record label to Viacom so they can throw out everything you've ever produced and start over under the guise of an independent label. Sure, your label still exists, but with all of the soul and heart dissected from it. It'd be better to just let it die (or better yet, find other options and fight through the rough patches, but hey...).
There must be some sort of line that separates when you should fight and when you should let her go. It's probably the same line that separates persistence and creepiness. The movies always tell you that persistence pays off and that those who fight for their love will win their love back. But reality seems to always favour the other side. Persistence will get you peppersprayed and fighting will destroy everything you once had or leave you stranded in the Friend Zone.
But what about Love? There is always that mentality that we must fight for the things we love, especially when it comes to women. Why especially with women? Because women are confusing. Women want you to fuck off out of their lives as much as they want to still be friends. So when a girl tells you she likes you and thinks you're great and doesn't want to be in a relationship with you and goes and fucks around with another guy but still wants to be friends... where does that leave you? It's like hooking fingers together while you're at the park, arm's length apart, while she's making out with some other dude. Stay close, don't go away, but idle while I'm with someone else.
Maybe we're not supposed to be idle. Maybe this is one of those things where she doesn't want you to be idle and the other guy is a test of how much you love her. But by "proving your love" you either have to be a total asshole and try and break them up, or you have to careen down the road to the Friend Zone where you and your girl will be reunited in love... totally platonic love.
I think about 1% of the female population sees the problem with that. It's like selling your independent record label to Viacom so they can throw out everything you've ever produced and start over under the guise of an independent label. Sure, your label still exists, but with all of the soul and heart dissected from it. It'd be better to just let it die (or better yet, find other options and fight through the rough patches, but hey...).
There must be some sort of line that separates when you should fight and when you should let her go. It's probably the same line that separates persistence and creepiness. The movies always tell you that persistence pays off and that those who fight for their love will win their love back. But reality seems to always favour the other side. Persistence will get you peppersprayed and fighting will destroy everything you once had or leave you stranded in the Friend Zone.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Thinking about love
So, I've been thinking a lot about love lately and I've come to the conclusion that it isn't as cinematic as I once thought. The concept of unconditional love is simply insane. I understand that it sounds really good of a person to be able to love unconditionally, but the term 'unconditionally' is misused or misunderstood.
Unconditionally means without any conditions. I was in love with a girl once. She left me for someone else. That sort of condition radically changed the way I felt about her and allowed the dismantling of the construct of love in my head without any remorse. Actually, that happened twice, but details...
We all understand that this is an extreme case (although suspiciously common to me) and isn't exactly the kind of thing when you consider when it comes to love. But, as I am proof, it happens. Furthermore, the reciprocation of love is something worth taking a critical look at. The romantic weight of loving someone that doesn't love you back is incredible. It shows... well, I can't exactly put my finger on what it shows. Maybe shows that you're crazy.
Let's take a look at an analogous situation. Say you're a sports player and you go to the training camp for your favourite city's team. You work hard and give it your best, but your best isn't good enough. The team refuses to sign you a contract. But you are dedicated to this team. In fact, you are so dedicated that you submit to only playing for that team. You practise and you train and you ignore the scouts from any other team because you will only play for that one team. But they never ever recruit you. Maybe you're not good enough. Maybe their roster is full. Maybe the team just can't afford you. You're dedicated to a team, but you're giving up a chance for a mutually beneficial relationship with another team. To give up your shot at the big leagues (in other words, love) because you've committed to a team that hasn't committed to you is, although romantic, absolutely fucking insane.
To this respect, love is to be earned and some of us are just too eager to give it away.
Unconditionally means without any conditions. I was in love with a girl once. She left me for someone else. That sort of condition radically changed the way I felt about her and allowed the dismantling of the construct of love in my head without any remorse. Actually, that happened twice, but details...
We all understand that this is an extreme case (although suspiciously common to me) and isn't exactly the kind of thing when you consider when it comes to love. But, as I am proof, it happens. Furthermore, the reciprocation of love is something worth taking a critical look at. The romantic weight of loving someone that doesn't love you back is incredible. It shows... well, I can't exactly put my finger on what it shows. Maybe shows that you're crazy.
Let's take a look at an analogous situation. Say you're a sports player and you go to the training camp for your favourite city's team. You work hard and give it your best, but your best isn't good enough. The team refuses to sign you a contract. But you are dedicated to this team. In fact, you are so dedicated that you submit to only playing for that team. You practise and you train and you ignore the scouts from any other team because you will only play for that one team. But they never ever recruit you. Maybe you're not good enough. Maybe their roster is full. Maybe the team just can't afford you. You're dedicated to a team, but you're giving up a chance for a mutually beneficial relationship with another team. To give up your shot at the big leagues (in other words, love) because you've committed to a team that hasn't committed to you is, although romantic, absolutely fucking insane.
To this respect, love is to be earned and some of us are just too eager to give it away.
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