The following events are based upon non-fictional characters and their non-fictional story…seriously. However, there maybe slight personality embellishments and general exaggerations made purely for the entertainment of the reader and at the sole prudence of the author; as well, all dialogue is classified under the assumptions of the author based upon her experience, however pathetically un-empathetic it may be. Said assumptions may just as well be thought of as fact…
Ah, love. At one point in time or another we’ve all been jammed into that proverbial pigeonhole of those the eager aficionados of love and its twisted patterns.
Cast your minds…
You’re a beautiful young woman. By worldly standards as well as by their counterparts, you are well traveled, well-spoken, very intelligent, motivated and a culinary genius. You enjoy wonderful relationships with friends, co-workers and other colleagues all who esteem and venerate you. You’re in your early twenties; young enough to escape the jaded bitterness of time, and old enough to be justified in your deliciously merciless scrutinizing of “kids today”. Now, in your love career, there have been some encounters that were...less than faith-invoking. But, you will not be swayed in your pursuit of this core belief that love is out there.
Now, you are well aware of the socially accepted conduits through which you may find said “love” – parties, friends etc. But, for some reason (seriously…what made you do this?) the call of the internet dating service is as melodious as it is intriguing, like a modern day siren - calling from the banks of desperation…
So, after jumping through the standard bureaucracy of professional love-finding, you’re ready. And then…you meet him.
His name is Bauch, strange you think – but you would challenge anyone to not be fascinated by such a name.
He’s pushing 30, attractive, and in all other areas of life, refreshingly average.
Time passes…an unexpected entity manages to drive the first wedge between the two of you. Though it may be easier to cure than the common cold, indubitably action must be taken, that which requires the realization that one of you is to blame…and you know it’s not you.
Bauch apologizes profusely and vows to expedite the remedial measures necessary to eradicate said “entity” and thereby eliminate any future wedges of that nature…
Time passes…no one likes to have a cold twice in a row, am I right? Well, at this point you don’t really care how many things can’t be cured as fast as this little bequest which warrants NO applause; you grow even more perturbed.
Time passes…the hurdles have gotten higher, but perhaps mingling with one another’s respective posses may cast the other in a softer, more amicable light. A night out with friends reveals past discomfitures for you; like the time that you blew a massive snot bubble whist in a grocery store from laughing so hard at that really funny friend that you love more than any of your other friends because of her generally attractive nature set off by her uproarious humor or her overall scrumtralescense. “How embarrassing!” you quip in perfect tenor. But Bauch’s “embarrassing” past is quick to change the tone of the evening.
His roommate decided to contribute with, “Dude, remember when you, like, went to prison because that chick’s parents totally charged you with stat rape just cause she was, like, 15 and you were, like, not? Dude…that was hilarious!” …
“Or afterwards, when her brother freaked out and came and tried to beat the crap out of you…and you like beat the living crap out of him? …you…you remember that? That was awesome!?”
Disbelief, awe and confusion seem to strike you across your cognizance like some perverse braid of perplexity. Jigga what?!
It continues… “Or when those guys tried to like, attack you when you were in prison and you like totally killed that one dude! WHOA! We were all like, DUDE! That’s some heavy stuff right there…”
Just to reinterate...this actually happened to someone. A very beautiful someone who has more exciting and amazing things to offer to the world, let alone one single person, than anyone I know. Someone who could hit whatever she set her sights on...she could hit that.
The following is not directed at said friend in any way shape or form...she is exempted.
You may take this testimonial as you may; I cannot persuade you into thinking one way or another. How boring the world would be if everyone were like me…awesome in its own right…but boring. But I implore you…good people of the single persuasion. Is it worth it? Is loneliness so deplorable that we turn to the java script wise men of our day to “match” us to people that God has most likely gone to tireless efforts to have us never have to meet in our life times?
Let's drop the mouse; put on some shoes; go for a walk (outside) and maybe we'll remember that life is worth more than that; and we should cherish what dignity we have left after Reality TV and catchy Britany Spears songs have had their way with us.
Just something to think about.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
Some may accredit genius to things like dedication, sacrifice or good genes. I, however, accredit all my genius to bitterness...especially the following.
Despite my previous expectations, I actually had a great Valentine’s Day. I got flowers, I dressed up and I dined with some of the most elect ladies within my sphere of influence. But said holiday caused me to call seriously upon my means of inspection. I stewed in thought over this apparently superfluous holiday; The words “every day should be Valentine’s day” reverberated in the crooks of my mind, to which I cannot wholly condone or condemn. But whether or not our lives are filled with romance wasn’t what concerned me. We’ve all loved, lost and someone conjured up the ability to love again. However, the assumption that we are all in love on one particular given day a year is obtuse at best. Wouldn't it be better to celebrate something that we can all relate to?
Fortunately, I pride myself on being pro-active in those oh so crucial matters of life, and I have come up with a solution. A holiday; a holiday that celebrates a universal figure which transcends culture, religion, sex and age...
No matter who we are, or what walk of life we find ourselves on, there is a common link that connects us all.
In life, “it must needs be that there is an opposition in all things”, or so we are all well aware. Each of our lives are filled with those little antagonists; be they individuals, inanimate objects, laws, or just character traits - those illusive little stumbling blocks impede us from our perception of perfection. Sometimes, to us they are a source of shame, exposing our weakness and inherit dependence upon sources outside ourselves. We would have the world see us as impenetrable and conqueror of the proverbial Achilles' heel; though we are as vulnerable if not more so in more cases than not.
So, I propose a holiday, day to recognize one opponent in our lives and renew our resolve to defeat said enemy. Now, you may be saying to yourself, “Self, Cindy sounds like she’s describing New Years’; with resolutions and everything.” Now we need to be very clear about this, in no way do I suggest that we should only focus on the adversaries whose trouncing would make us “better people”…absolutely not. In fact, I would rather we focus on those rivals that society continually tells us to “just let go” of. From needless traffic, to mail boxes full of flyers, to socks with sandals, to Carrot top, to the entire cast of Dance Wars; exercise your right to stand up to that which provokes you and threatens the general decency of humanity!
Where would Superman be if Lex Luther had just decided to go honest and get a 9 to 5…riddle me that? I’ll tell ya where he’d be – he’d be sitting at home watching Friends reruns or scrap-booking, instead of fulfilling his destiny as the typified hero within us all…although I bet that scrapbook would kick ass.
Each of us has an arch nemesis, a Lex Luther if you will; and thank your lucky stars that we do. How bland our lives would be without them!
So, this March 27th, won’t you all join me in the First Annual ‘Archenemy Day’? Archenemas for short.
Why March 27th, you ask? I chose this day as homage to the birth date of the consummate antagonist of our time… Mariah Carey.
Be creative. If you hate cats, run with that. Perhaps you hate Pontiac Sunfires with mardi gras beads and lei's hanging from the review mirror and a "Princess" license plate. Celebrate your irrational disdain for that which incenses you!
...You know I will.
Despite my previous expectations, I actually had a great Valentine’s Day. I got flowers, I dressed up and I dined with some of the most elect ladies within my sphere of influence. But said holiday caused me to call seriously upon my means of inspection. I stewed in thought over this apparently superfluous holiday; The words “every day should be Valentine’s day” reverberated in the crooks of my mind, to which I cannot wholly condone or condemn. But whether or not our lives are filled with romance wasn’t what concerned me. We’ve all loved, lost and someone conjured up the ability to love again. However, the assumption that we are all in love on one particular given day a year is obtuse at best. Wouldn't it be better to celebrate something that we can all relate to?
Fortunately, I pride myself on being pro-active in those oh so crucial matters of life, and I have come up with a solution. A holiday; a holiday that celebrates a universal figure which transcends culture, religion, sex and age...
No matter who we are, or what walk of life we find ourselves on, there is a common link that connects us all.
In life, “it must needs be that there is an opposition in all things”, or so we are all well aware. Each of our lives are filled with those little antagonists; be they individuals, inanimate objects, laws, or just character traits - those illusive little stumbling blocks impede us from our perception of perfection. Sometimes, to us they are a source of shame, exposing our weakness and inherit dependence upon sources outside ourselves. We would have the world see us as impenetrable and conqueror of the proverbial Achilles' heel; though we are as vulnerable if not more so in more cases than not.
So, I propose a holiday, day to recognize one opponent in our lives and renew our resolve to defeat said enemy. Now, you may be saying to yourself, “Self, Cindy sounds like she’s describing New Years’; with resolutions and everything.” Now we need to be very clear about this, in no way do I suggest that we should only focus on the adversaries whose trouncing would make us “better people”…absolutely not. In fact, I would rather we focus on those rivals that society continually tells us to “just let go” of. From needless traffic, to mail boxes full of flyers, to socks with sandals, to Carrot top, to the entire cast of Dance Wars; exercise your right to stand up to that which provokes you and threatens the general decency of humanity!
Where would Superman be if Lex Luther had just decided to go honest and get a 9 to 5…riddle me that? I’ll tell ya where he’d be – he’d be sitting at home watching Friends reruns or scrap-booking, instead of fulfilling his destiny as the typified hero within us all…although I bet that scrapbook would kick ass.
Each of us has an arch nemesis, a Lex Luther if you will; and thank your lucky stars that we do. How bland our lives would be without them!
So, this March 27th, won’t you all join me in the First Annual ‘Archenemy Day’? Archenemas for short.
Why March 27th, you ask? I chose this day as homage to the birth date of the consummate antagonist of our time… Mariah Carey.
Be creative. If you hate cats, run with that. Perhaps you hate Pontiac Sunfires with mardi gras beads and lei's hanging from the review mirror and a "Princess" license plate. Celebrate your irrational disdain for that which incenses you!
...You know I will.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
So, I’ve left everyone hanging there for awhile now haven’t I? I’ve neglected my sweet little flock and left you wanting for genuine insight and pure, unadulterated cynicism.
But I must say that lately I can’t conjure up enough disgust with anything to warrant an entire entry. Could this mean that I am growing up, and slipping off of the cloud of youth that carries me over reality whilst allowing me a perfect view to examine, criticize, question and circumvent?
HEEEYYYY no!
But my thoughts do turn to that oh so dangerous and interdicted topic; love. Ah, sweet love. The proverbial bringer of the balm for our inherit loneliness and insecurity, or so we reassure ourselves. As many times as I have thought that I had it, is as many times as it has kicked the living crap out of me.
As cynical as I have always been on this subject, recent observations make my perception a little more hospitable of a nest for the idea of love. I truly realize how sweet the promise of this enticing entity can really be to someone who has reached that un-mapable point in their life that is as easy to remember as it is to predict.
The world really screams at us sometimes to live for ourselves, and in more ways than one take on the Narcissistic campaign of self-indulgence and hollow affirmations. I know that I have always felt like it would be a sign of vulnerability and weakness to give up anything for love; something so mysterious in its own right, whose only predictability is its eternal unpredictability. The catalyst in this mortal probation through which we get back a little of what we had before we all agreed to hop on this crazy roller coaster.
Why do we fear the realization of the thoughts and aspirations that are in fact the very fuel behind the motivation to trudge through the tedious errands of life? WHY?!
Perhaps it’s because it is so foreign; perhaps because it requires a surrender of control and self-preservation tactics which are relied on so heavily when love isn’t readily available. We have to put so much trust in another being whose thoughts we cannot know, and who is as vulnerable to change and catharsis as we are. Or maybe it’s just because we are scared to let go and free fall into something with the child-like naiveté that we’ll never hit the ground.
No matter how many times I get my ass handed to me by love, I can still cite one of my favorite songs in saying… “I love, love; I love being in love – I don’t care what it does to me!” Take it from Paul, ya’ll; suffering is the essence of life; and what sweeter suffering is there than being in love?!
It hurts. But nothing soothes the lovelorn as much as hope; which comes from the realization that they are worth far more than any label, good or bad, that could ever be put upon them. But don’t regret any of them, not a single one; you have no right to rob yourself of those experience which are ultimately they only things that you will take with you throughout your life. Claim those moments, and then put them away. So whether it lasts two weeks, two months or two years; fall in love. Why the hell not? Do it as many times as you possibly can. And that’s all I have to say about that.
But I must say that lately I can’t conjure up enough disgust with anything to warrant an entire entry. Could this mean that I am growing up, and slipping off of the cloud of youth that carries me over reality whilst allowing me a perfect view to examine, criticize, question and circumvent?
HEEEYYYY no!
But my thoughts do turn to that oh so dangerous and interdicted topic; love. Ah, sweet love. The proverbial bringer of the balm for our inherit loneliness and insecurity, or so we reassure ourselves. As many times as I have thought that I had it, is as many times as it has kicked the living crap out of me.
As cynical as I have always been on this subject, recent observations make my perception a little more hospitable of a nest for the idea of love. I truly realize how sweet the promise of this enticing entity can really be to someone who has reached that un-mapable point in their life that is as easy to remember as it is to predict.
The world really screams at us sometimes to live for ourselves, and in more ways than one take on the Narcissistic campaign of self-indulgence and hollow affirmations. I know that I have always felt like it would be a sign of vulnerability and weakness to give up anything for love; something so mysterious in its own right, whose only predictability is its eternal unpredictability. The catalyst in this mortal probation through which we get back a little of what we had before we all agreed to hop on this crazy roller coaster.
Why do we fear the realization of the thoughts and aspirations that are in fact the very fuel behind the motivation to trudge through the tedious errands of life? WHY?!
Perhaps it’s because it is so foreign; perhaps because it requires a surrender of control and self-preservation tactics which are relied on so heavily when love isn’t readily available. We have to put so much trust in another being whose thoughts we cannot know, and who is as vulnerable to change and catharsis as we are. Or maybe it’s just because we are scared to let go and free fall into something with the child-like naiveté that we’ll never hit the ground.
No matter how many times I get my ass handed to me by love, I can still cite one of my favorite songs in saying… “I love, love; I love being in love – I don’t care what it does to me!” Take it from Paul, ya’ll; suffering is the essence of life; and what sweeter suffering is there than being in love?!
It hurts. But nothing soothes the lovelorn as much as hope; which comes from the realization that they are worth far more than any label, good or bad, that could ever be put upon them. But don’t regret any of them, not a single one; you have no right to rob yourself of those experience which are ultimately they only things that you will take with you throughout your life. Claim those moments, and then put them away. So whether it lasts two weeks, two months or two years; fall in love. Why the hell not? Do it as many times as you possibly can. And that’s all I have to say about that.
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