Wednesday, April 23, 2008


I had this strange idea the other day. I don't exactly think it's an answer to the question, so much as a possible contributing factor.

The question is this: Why does love seem to expire?

I, for one, am a major skeptic of many of the social paradigms surrounding love. I hate that Love has become this materialistic term. Something defined by the amount of money spent to prove the depths of ones affection.

I would go so far as to say I've lost faith in the institution of marriage (as regulated by faith), as it seems so much more to play off of the religious obligations of two individuals to the ideologies of their religion of choice.

I hate the fact that couples get divorced.

What I hate more is that they live together in misery because of the influence of faith in their lives. Especially when this means that they have been fooling themselves for two decades, only to end up with a broken home, Children who are born under false pretenses of love, but under the sanctimonious guise of consecrated marriage.

The problem is not that people feel obligated to follow the teachings of their ministers and other church leaders. I think that's great. What I see as a problem is when people allow this faith to dictate over their own judgment, their own judgments.

The problem is not that people put too strong of emphasis in the religious aspect of their marriage. I think (arguably) that people could do with more adherence to religion in their lives. The problem is that they put MORE faith in this aspect of their lives than they build in their relationships otherwise.

This is where the title of this blog finally comes into the text. People have replaced the need for communication with a trust that they can survive in a relationship without it. I say "the" need instead of "their" need because I'm not sure if people realize that they need communication. We have developed a paradigm in which we don't speak about difficult subjects. Instead, we sweep them under the rug to fester and mutate into the truly devastating diseases that seem to render so many relationships terminal.

Strange concept. Trust can be the most detrimental thing to a relationship? can be. I don't think it was meant to be a tool to skirt the issues between two people.

I think it has gradually become a social misconception that being in love means you are so perfectly matched with someone that there are no problems between you. Bullshit.
others believe that love is that flighty feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you see that special someone, hear their voice, or even think about them in the middle of everyday life. I think there's something to that.

I think that feeling that most of us experienced as 12 and 13 year olds when we were "infatuated" with someone is the feeling we are meant to feel when we are in love. I'm not saying we were all in love at 12 and 13, I'm saying that we never should have lost that feeling. we should have been able to retain it, hone it till it responded to the qualities in someone else that we individually esteem. It never should have been buried under thick callouses around our hearts.

Those callouses are the effect of being burned to many times. learned pessimism toward relationships. we are burned when we are the victims of lies or shaded truths, unresolved differences... unmentioned issues. The heart eventually learns that the truth must be derived from codes of communication. True feelings are never plainly evident, they are manifested in passive-aggressive comments, hints, misplaced anger (anger or frustration with one issue that is manifested over another issue I.e. the wife being pissed that the trash wasn't taken out, but really the frustration is centered around the wife feeling as if her husband doesn't listen to, or value her input or opinions).

The same is true for feelings of love and affection. We live in a society where women are the soft hearted, romantic types. the ones allowed to cry or swoon. men are expected to contain their emotions in a totally stoic and badass manner. If they are in love, they should not make this apparent by being affectionate or saying so. they should do something to incite emotion or praise from their female counterpart--buy her flowers, and when she fall on you with kisses, give a grunt of approval and carry her off to the bedroom. I don't think so. Why is it so unacceptable for men to be open about their feelings? It seems to be a social stigma on men being soft and open outside of the bedroom.

Again, I think that women are equally guilty of using round about methods of communication. Women have this innate ability to map out a conversation and manipulate where it will lead before it even starts by making just the right comments and asking just the right questions before they lead into the discussion they really want to have. "does this dress make me look fat?" is a notorious one liner to dig for compliments. the underlying discussion being that she doesn't feel appreciated by her husband or boyfriend because he never tells her outright that he thinks she looks wonderful. but then again, she never tells him outright that she needs that validation.
I don't respond well when I feel insincerity coming from someone. I am loathe of people playing a part, going through the motions, saying the words, with no emotion. I don't know who to blame for this. But I think this is blamed for the commonly-accepted definition of love that exists today.
Love should be a open channel of emotion and communication. Not something moderated by taboos and fauxpas, inhibitions dictated by social acceptance. lies, shaded truths, insincerities and so forth.
People are willing to settle for the appearance of love in order to get the benefits a relationship. I see so many people in relationships who are settling for someone who will validate them enough to justify their being together, but there is no real love between them... unless you are one of those that consider the definition of love to be two people who have a chemical attraction to each other, and if by "chemical" you mean Oxytocin or other neurotransmitters. Even then, after a prolonged period of the brain releasing these "love" chemicals, our receptors adapt to it and its effects are less stimulating after time.

I blame not communicating as the culprit of failed relationships. we go from being in love
to being out of love and even resolving never to love again. How do we manage to trick ourselves back into it? how do we have a such a love/hate relationship with love? We want love, but we don't want to work for it, we don't want to change. For guys, we don't want to want love, we just want someone to love us. for girls, it seems they love and want to be loved but get burned out on being the only one who is openly loving.

Seems like people think of romance as a set of rules to get you married, and love as the knot of marriage that may prove to be tough enough, or may prove too weak to keep divorce out of a relationship. I think love is essentially selflessness and an eagerness to understand each other, an ongoing task that doesn't sit still. What was it that woody Allan said? "Love is like a shark, it has to be constantly moving or it sinks." Too often I see people who think love is like instant jell-o; just add water, heat up till it boils, let it sit til it cools, enjoy it while it lasts!

Thursday, April 17, 2008

What a Day!

I woke up today, before my alarm went off. I thought 'you know, I could try and sleep until my alarm goes off, or I could get a jump start on my day.' I opted for the latter.

Upon opening my laptop to print off the paper I stayed up till 4:00AM staring at, I saw the clock in the bottom right-hand corner. 11:19AM. "Hmm.. that can't be right... *check phone* ....****!" I grabbed the most readily available clothing which happened to be the shirt I worked out in 3 days ago and a pair of jeans that are just now getting broken in (they look brand new, so I've worn them about 4 times without washing them). I dashed out the door to catch the bus. I ran to the stop for the 811 but the 830 was going to have to do, the 811 is quicker, but it didn't come for another 40 minutes. The 830 came creeping along about 8 long minutes later. And, wouldn't you know it? the driver was dedicated to his job. He waited at each stop until the exact second that quotes people when they look up routes. Did I mention that my Psychology final ended 4 minutes AFTER I woke up? yeah, it did.

I decided that no amount of toe tapping would get me there in time to catch my professor and ooze some lame excuse, and plea for mercy. I got to the school no later than 7 seconds after 12:00PM according to the clock on the buses nav system. I bee lined it to my psych classroom on the off chance that my instructor was still there. That was a big fat negative. I then scurried to my history class fully expecting a tongue lashing from my professor.

It wasn't so bad. He just criticized me for being late and "missing it!" (photos of his grandchildren, no... I'm serious.) but he was pretty much just jeering me.
It was about this time that I realized that I smelled like crusty socks and shampoo (I took a shower last night, but my dirt clothes masked the scent of Irish Spring Aloe). I don't think we went over anything in class that we hadn't covered Tuesday. but I must admit, the fact that my psychology grade just went from a B+ to a C- (or worse) was kinda distracting me. As soon as class got out I went to the computer lab and emailed my Psych professor (resisting the temptation to cook up an excuse for my missing class) I told him that I missed it due to "extenuating circumstances" and left it at that. I now had time to verify the suspected cause of my overstay in dreamland. Yep, out of all the days I could have set my alarm for 9PM instead of AM this semester, I decided to do it on the last day of classes.

I got some pointers from my English professor on my final paper (he gave me an extension on Tuesday for a week, since my trail version of Office Word had expired and locked my drafts of my final paper). I went and checked out the pool set from CC and went to kill some time, waiting for my Psych professor to get my email. On the way to the pool table I saw the Yellow blouse and dark brown hair of one of my English 1010 classmates, so I decided to invite her to kill some time with me. She was at a checkout stand and I waited for her to finish up. Normally, I wouldn't be so forward, but she had gone out of her way to talk to me in the hall the past couple of weeks and we chatted a little in class, so I thought it was okay to ask. It is, after all, the last day of class and a simple "no" isn't going to break my feelings. As she turned around I started to say something like "you have somewhere to be?" but I stopped short when I realized that I had the wrong person. DAMNIT. same hair same blouse, same black bra strap. WTF? My day is going like a bad movie at this point. So, I resolve to play pool alone for the next hour.

I had barely played one game against myself when I hear an Latino-accented voice. "Do you have a partner?" I looked up to see two flamboyant South American guys walking toward the pool table. The thought that his phraseology was intentional crossed my mind. I responded with a shrug. They introduced themselves as "Jacques" and "William" from Brazil and Mexico, respectively. They played on the same team and I played on my own.... no pun intended. I think they cheated on purpose under the guise of ignorant foreigners. they played ball in hand when I scratched and every sloppy sink they counted and continued. When they scratched I had to play from the top, I finally decided to play slops as well. After a few games I decided to leave but before I said anything they handed me the pool cues and left. I played two more games against myself and returned them to the Campus Connection.

No reply from Mr. S yet. I decided to head home and keep working on my English paper.
On the way out the door I saw the bus pull up to the depot, about 300 yards away. "just my luck...." I resolved to miss it. but when I was about halfway there i noticed that it was still parked. So I laid rubber and ran for it. The Santa Clause midget bus driver almost slammed the door on me but I got on. He mashed on the gas which, naturally, sent me tumbling behind the white line. "That's okay", I was thinking to myself "Finally! I catch a break." The guy sitting accross from me looked like he had just stepped out of 1985, London. Probably hung over from a Billy Idol concert. He had bleached-white hair and had sewn patches all over some black corduroy pants. He had also hemmed them to fit tight... or rather, not fit at all. His denim vest/jacket had a bunch of band logos on it and he had brown high top Dr. Martin's on. Seriously? where do these people come from?

I got off a couple of blocks before my place and decided to just relax and not stress. Just as i was thinking "don't let it phase you, Evan..." I felt a wetness on my arm.

Bird crap.