Preview |6:02 PM|
As PortalStar and I were walking around the zoo, we spotted some alligators. As I was standing there watching them try to look like logs (so the bald monkey could get close enough to bite in half) another group was walking up. It was a family, and the 12-14 year old daughter (the sound of whose voice told me everything I needed to know about her) was saying "Oooh alligators! I'm gonna hit one with a stick!"
While I would have preferred this person to be horribly eaten, the zoo probably would have had to put the attacking alligator down. So I casually say to no one in particular "You know, an alligator can jump up to 20 feet straight up in the air." The girl replied, with a gasp, "Are you serious?"
Not looking at her, I strolled away. I noticed her hurrying to the next exibit, without having molested any alligators.
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Wednesday, April 05, 2006
This incomplete ranting about love. |12:53 PM|
I rained on a friend's parade last night, or so he declared. All I told him was something I learned/decided a while back, after having my emotional, metaphorical, ass handed to me. True, it was all my fault, so that's why I tried to learn as much about it as possible.
Love, as in the love one feels for another, is not actually love until it is shared, or reciprocated. The deepest, burn-to-the-core love one person may feel for another is closer to madness or obsession than actual love, if the object of these emotions does not feel something similar in return.
I'm defining the word love dynamically, so I'll let context clues guide any reader as to the implied definition.
As someone who has been in love, in a variety of ways, to a vast range of magnitudes, as well as being someone that other people have loved, I feel as though I have some tiny insight into this subject. This, I'm sure, is not some radical new idea, nor do I think it applies to all emotional states people would classify as love. I have loved people who loved me back, people who did not love me back, people who at some periods did love me, but then did not, people who did not share the same magnitude of emotion that I did, people who felt far more love for me than I had for them, and then there were the folks who were in love with me when I wasn't in love with them, only to not be in love with me when I felt it for them. I've had my fair share of folks who had apparently fallen deeply in love with me, while I remained oblivious, or confused and troubled. I know I too, have confused and bothered folks. Eh, it's a learning experience.
In a way, it is unfair to a person to admit this deep emotional bond you feel that you have to them, if it turns out they don't share it. It can ruin friendships, or at least damage them. This is assuming you're not even a crazy person who scares the bejesus of the target of your love in the first place. But then again, if they are interested, well, that's just swell. Here's a tip, be sure about their intentions before you start writing epic poems in their honor.
I wanted to call this idea, of love not being love unless it is reciprocated, the "A death in Venice" rule, but I haven't read that so I can't be sure. I just call it the "Cecil shouldn't be a nutjob" rule.
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Goddammit, why can't I ever get this damn thing written? Here's a sketch of a new pictogram.
The other day, I was getting so damned angry, I wanted my head to pop. I wanted it to rocket out on a spring or something and make a cartoonish BOING noise, because of a tow truck company. Then something odd happened, I was able to take a look at this situation from an outside point of view, and I was calm. Yes, the parasitic low lifes had essentially stolen my car, and given a chance, I would have butchered them like animals, but in the big scheme of things, it was a minor annoyance and $160. Shit happens. In a couple months, it'll be mostly forgotten. Am I suddenly maturing? It took fucking long enough.
I still want some insanity around here. It's so boring and normal. With my finacial situation crippling me, and my girlfriend chained to her job, it's quite hard to find amusement.
One of the good things about Wonderlust visiting, I stayed up basically the whole time he was here, driving his ass around town, taking him to parties, dumping him off so he could torture himself emotionally. It was pretty cheap fun, and it was memorable.
The longer you're alive, the less you notice the accepted changes. Day/Night, morning/afternoon, vacation/work. That's why time seems to speed up, or at least, that's a theory. Seems to make sense. I'm doing my best to notice the whole damn world around me. So far, it seems to be working, but it does make the boring moments drag on forever. I think I spent about 2 months at work yesterday, and that was just in the afternoon when I ran out of work.
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