There are many types of love, and as such, just as many perspectives, and ideas concerning the subject.
What this post will be about, is an emotion that is temporary insanity; sensual overload and lust mixed into a heady mixture; A chemical fixation upon another person; Romance. We will call it love.
Love is an absolutely fascinating concept. Making another human willing to do nearly anything for another person, putting their needs before your own. In many ways, it undermines basic survival. Departing with resources to win over affection.
Love is certainly addictive, considering how extended periods without "romantic" contact, tend to make people more fragile, more vulnerable to disease. Yet, love is just as dangerous. Exposing yourself to heartbreak, stress, disappointment, if the love is not returned, and potentially more diseases, depending upon how polyamorous or promiscuous the person you experience these intense emotions for, happens to be.
Honesty is for people who are boring, and in lasting relationships, not people who are hopelessly tangled up in the vine of love. Fools to their ever changing bio-chemistry, the super-freak reactions that complicate and simplify their essence, to be entwined and tied into hopeless knots... A beautiful, and devastating dance, Pushing, pulling, clinging to be torn away and then driven back together.
Appealing, is it not?
My mind knows the dangers, and yet I still crave love, like a junkie. And that is what scares me. Getting over love, is exactly like getting over the addiction; Months without any romantic contact, but one more fix and I know I'll be a fucking wreck all over again. Another junkie, who cares only for the next fix. Admittedly, that is one thing I've always envy about junkies: simplicity in their priorities.
However, for those without love, it is not entirely without its fun. Poking, prodding, picking at all the things stated, and believed, making someone question love, making someone explain why they love someone...now that will drive someone crazy.
As for a statement about what love actually is, I leave that up to you. Make your own damn conclusion. Or are you in love with my mind and craving another micro-gram of wisdom, of snarky wit, of caustic honesty? Or another eruption of volatile and unstable emotion? Of rage, frustration, sadness, and bitterness?
Make up your own damn mind.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Sunday, January 29, 2012
The Razor Spikes of Self-Doubt.
It's best not to question whether what you are doing is worth it, especially when you wonder if other people care about it.
But it is perhaps the driving question, the annoying kid in the back seat that asks, "are we there yet?" When the journey has just begun. That bit of self doubt that is the drop of poison in the wine.
So, do other people care what you do?
Short answer; no.
The long answer: They don't care what you do until you have done it. Even then most people are so wrapped up in their own affairs to care. Sometimes, depending on your relation to the person, they are so wrapped up in if you care or not to notice what you do. At least, that is the way it seems to go.
So no, people don't care right now. But that begs another question: WILL they care once it is done? There is no simple answer, because that is the nature of people; rogue variables in an evolving equation. The equation doesn't mean anything, until it is calculated in the moment and the result is apparent.
Such thoughts and worries, if left to their own wills, their own ideas, will prevent the greatest art, stop the most important journeys, and crush the most beautiful souls into dust. And no one will care about the loss of great art, or great knowledge, if they care at all. They will only care the price they have to pay.
At least, that is my assumption, based on a few scattered unscientific observations.
Alas, it is time to return you to your volatile dreaming world. Remember this: Be amazing, when the world tells you it doesn't matter. Be big, when the world thinks you are small. Be unpredictable, when a trap is laid for you. Most important of all: Imagine.
But it is perhaps the driving question, the annoying kid in the back seat that asks, "are we there yet?" When the journey has just begun. That bit of self doubt that is the drop of poison in the wine.
So, do other people care what you do?
Short answer; no.
The long answer: They don't care what you do until you have done it. Even then most people are so wrapped up in their own affairs to care. Sometimes, depending on your relation to the person, they are so wrapped up in if you care or not to notice what you do. At least, that is the way it seems to go.
So no, people don't care right now. But that begs another question: WILL they care once it is done? There is no simple answer, because that is the nature of people; rogue variables in an evolving equation. The equation doesn't mean anything, until it is calculated in the moment and the result is apparent.
Such thoughts and worries, if left to their own wills, their own ideas, will prevent the greatest art, stop the most important journeys, and crush the most beautiful souls into dust. And no one will care about the loss of great art, or great knowledge, if they care at all. They will only care the price they have to pay.
At least, that is my assumption, based on a few scattered unscientific observations.
Alas, it is time to return you to your volatile dreaming world. Remember this: Be amazing, when the world tells you it doesn't matter. Be big, when the world thinks you are small. Be unpredictable, when a trap is laid for you. Most important of all: Imagine.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Mind Vomit I
Shoot me at the moon. If I don't get there, I'll just fall back to earth.
A view so high my perspective means nothing. The earth, just a beautiful backdrop for my peaceful decent.
Born again, falling anew, awake and alert for the first time in forever. Surely, it will not be the last. The Cycle of life compressed into a few passing moments.
The Earth, growing larger. Calling me back to it's embrace.
Closer and closer, slower and slower, I return. My decent all but stops. I alight on the soft grass, the gentle summer breeze tugging at the corners of my shirt, a child trying to show me someplace.
A view so high my perspective means nothing. The earth, just a beautiful backdrop for my peaceful decent.
Born again, falling anew, awake and alert for the first time in forever. Surely, it will not be the last. The Cycle of life compressed into a few passing moments.
The Earth, growing larger. Calling me back to it's embrace.
Closer and closer, slower and slower, I return. My decent all but stops. I alight on the soft grass, the gentle summer breeze tugging at the corners of my shirt, a child trying to show me someplace.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Cupid the Sniper
For the longest time, Cupid was the cherub of love. Forever young and forever playful and optimistic. But, no good deed goes unpunished.
Cupid started to age, slowly at first, when people blamed him for mismatches and mix-ups. When work picked up, Cupid couldn't keep up. He had to incorporate. His worker drones weren't too bright and errors and mistakes made business bad. He kept getting older.
One day, he decided to hang up his halo, his faithful bow and arrow. He found himself aging faster with no purpose. So his purpose, became revenge.
Mad in his age and current state of mind, he decided two arrows for two people was just a bad system. Why not two arrows for one person? Why not stash the other arrow and let the person go unmatched forever?
Cupid called up the gods, and said he wanted his old job back. No more corporation. Why should the entire world be punished because he is busy? Why let the world accept sub-par standards? The gods reluctantly agreed. A few were suspicious of his new enthusiasm. They did their best to keep track of him.
And so the bodies lined up. Cupid discovered that a few good and true matches could do more than any unmade matches. A missed arrow grazing the heart, combined with the view of true love, would drive most people insane.
In fact, it has. It has driven many men and women absolutely mad. Some kill themselves. Others wait around forever and do nothing. Most go mad and take things into their own hands.
Cupid smiles upon those crazy enough to actively seek out love. He prefers it that way actual. No match made in heaven, but can they really complain in this world of suffering and torment they build for themselves.
Cupid is young again, but not as young as he used to be. He is still insane and wants to see those curse his name tortured. So be careful when you curse his name, he might be close by, and will shoot you once, to drive you insane.
Cupid started to age, slowly at first, when people blamed him for mismatches and mix-ups. When work picked up, Cupid couldn't keep up. He had to incorporate. His worker drones weren't too bright and errors and mistakes made business bad. He kept getting older.
One day, he decided to hang up his halo, his faithful bow and arrow. He found himself aging faster with no purpose. So his purpose, became revenge.
Mad in his age and current state of mind, he decided two arrows for two people was just a bad system. Why not two arrows for one person? Why not stash the other arrow and let the person go unmatched forever?
Cupid called up the gods, and said he wanted his old job back. No more corporation. Why should the entire world be punished because he is busy? Why let the world accept sub-par standards? The gods reluctantly agreed. A few were suspicious of his new enthusiasm. They did their best to keep track of him.
And so the bodies lined up. Cupid discovered that a few good and true matches could do more than any unmade matches. A missed arrow grazing the heart, combined with the view of true love, would drive most people insane.
In fact, it has. It has driven many men and women absolutely mad. Some kill themselves. Others wait around forever and do nothing. Most go mad and take things into their own hands.
Cupid smiles upon those crazy enough to actively seek out love. He prefers it that way actual. No match made in heaven, but can they really complain in this world of suffering and torment they build for themselves.
Cupid is young again, but not as young as he used to be. He is still insane and wants to see those curse his name tortured. So be careful when you curse his name, he might be close by, and will shoot you once, to drive you insane.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
This Poem is Probably About YOU.
Always waiting for that one lucky break, always wanting one more chance, it's not my fault, those other people are to blame, feed my addiction and turn a blind eye, always waiting for that one lucky break...
And I say...No.
Defiance to a self-fulfilling prophecy, the courage to drop the ball and walk away. Let the cycle spiral to its inevitable end.
Pull the rope tighter, observe the inevitable fry and snap. A shovel to lay a foundation, used to dig a void into which to fall.
Every opportunity to succeed and still failure is the result. Such weak acts of “rebellion” only enslaved and encouraged the status quo!
---------------
- Note - I did write this, with one person in mind. One and only one.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Puppets: Heroic and Villanous?
I direct your actions; I request and you gracefully oblige, my wonderful muse. My madness tears us together. Our love, the chains that bind and drive us apart.
I am enslaved to your expectations. I thirst for tears of happiness, and curse every disappointed sniff. I fall to you, and you throw my intentions to the flames.
We are each others puppets, pulling each others strings. Cutting control, waiting for the other to collapse on the stage, useless and abandoned. Insane love is the fuel behind our loving duels to the last bitter triumph.
I cut my own strings. I stand on my own and smile, shaking under the weight of my own decisions. I free you. But you are still bound by your own intentions. Cry all you want my puppet, I can't cut you from your own strings.
I am a reality altering entity, stronger than any drug, more addictive than any thought, more frightening than any nightmare, more lovely than a thousand summer days, and more discordant than the crash of a thousand minds, arguing for dominance. More beautiful, in thought, action, and word, than any hypnotic poet.
I am enslaved to your expectations. I thirst for tears of happiness, and curse every disappointed sniff. I fall to you, and you throw my intentions to the flames.
We are each others puppets, pulling each others strings. Cutting control, waiting for the other to collapse on the stage, useless and abandoned. Insane love is the fuel behind our loving duels to the last bitter triumph.
I cut my own strings. I stand on my own and smile, shaking under the weight of my own decisions. I free you. But you are still bound by your own intentions. Cry all you want my puppet, I can't cut you from your own strings.
I am a reality altering entity, stronger than any drug, more addictive than any thought, more frightening than any nightmare, more lovely than a thousand summer days, and more discordant than the crash of a thousand minds, arguing for dominance. More beautiful, in thought, action, and word, than any hypnotic poet.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Rant in F Sharp.
So it all occurred to me when I was hanging out with friends, and one brought up a time when I ran after a girl and asked her if I looked like Jesus.
After such a harsh look and question, I left. My world shattered. But that's ok. Why? Because I learned a valuable lesson. Or maybe I over-learned it.
I thought about various women in my life who at, one time or another, I would have romanced, and would have pursued a relationship. Needless to say, we are still friends, and I'm not sure any of them know my past feelings.
I have a friend, who believes in building a friendship then moving into a relationship. I do believe I've tried that once. Undeniably, that was my longest lasting relationship.
I've also tried the other side: moving right into a relationship. Undeniably, the shortest relationships.
Back to the Jesus thing. I realize, I'm a strange human. And arguably, the people who like me most, are those who take time to get to know me. But now comes the harsh side. After a while of talking and getting to know me, many (if not all) people do not feel it is worth ruining a perfectly good friendship by moving into a relationship. Why ruin a friendship for something more?
The problem: I'm weird, I'm awkward, and it takes people time to adjust for me. Too long, and I'm relegated to the "good friend" bin. Too short, and it's just another broken relationship, or not even that. Used then tossed. Just another face.
People have told me, for so long, "Don't worry, you'll find someone amazing." But I have to say, the more I hear it, the less I believe it. The more I hear it, the more I feel myself breaking down slowly inside. I'm headed for a full breakdown. But not today.
To protect myself, I have to pretend I'm very alone in this world. I have to pretend I'm ok with this. I have to pretend it doesn't bother me that I'm a very broken human, who has trouble interacting with strangers, a human who doesn't always know when to shut up, or when to talk, or what to say.
Am I Ok? Not really. But that's ok, right? Not really. But we can pretend it does, just a little longer. I feel myself breaking down, but that is ok. Because there is beauty in a breakdown.
After such a harsh look and question, I left. My world shattered. But that's ok. Why? Because I learned a valuable lesson. Or maybe I over-learned it.
I thought about various women in my life who at, one time or another, I would have romanced, and would have pursued a relationship. Needless to say, we are still friends, and I'm not sure any of them know my past feelings.
I have a friend, who believes in building a friendship then moving into a relationship. I do believe I've tried that once. Undeniably, that was my longest lasting relationship.
I've also tried the other side: moving right into a relationship. Undeniably, the shortest relationships.
Back to the Jesus thing. I realize, I'm a strange human. And arguably, the people who like me most, are those who take time to get to know me. But now comes the harsh side. After a while of talking and getting to know me, many (if not all) people do not feel it is worth ruining a perfectly good friendship by moving into a relationship. Why ruin a friendship for something more?
The problem: I'm weird, I'm awkward, and it takes people time to adjust for me. Too long, and I'm relegated to the "good friend" bin. Too short, and it's just another broken relationship, or not even that. Used then tossed. Just another face.
People have told me, for so long, "Don't worry, you'll find someone amazing." But I have to say, the more I hear it, the less I believe it. The more I hear it, the more I feel myself breaking down slowly inside. I'm headed for a full breakdown. But not today.
To protect myself, I have to pretend I'm very alone in this world. I have to pretend I'm ok with this. I have to pretend it doesn't bother me that I'm a very broken human, who has trouble interacting with strangers, a human who doesn't always know when to shut up, or when to talk, or what to say.
Am I Ok? Not really. But that's ok, right? Not really. But we can pretend it does, just a little longer. I feel myself breaking down, but that is ok. Because there is beauty in a breakdown.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)