The intent of this post is rather embarassing. A few days ago I was at work and picked up a book off of the shelf and started reading it on a whim. The cover was intriguing, and yes I must admit the worst part of this story may very well be the fact that I have fallen victim to one of life's greatest sins. I not only judged a book by it's cover, I grossly misjudged it. Days later I would find that this book, which I had compulsively read the first page, a middle page, and the last of (as I do with every book I judge) and set it back on the shelf for later review, was the new craze. It plasters newspaper reviews, television shows, facebook posts and posters in front of bookstores. Fifty Shades of Grey, the tale of an inexperienced and passionate young woman and the youngest business tycoon/ closet BDSM master to conquer the world. I have to admit, after judging it as a good book by it's less than fascinating cover (after further reading and understanding), I was wrong, this book is not good; it is amazing, maybe even life changing in a sense that is unexpected, uncanny, inexplicable.
Many are drawn to the utterly erotic context. Some to the sad love story. Even others to the tortorous exchange of pain and pleasure. Not I. I am drawn to this book because of its ability to push boundaries, to test limitations. This is not a book about sex, this is a book about love, and the bounds that people will break, both consciously and unconsciously, to satiate the innate need for it. This book shows love for what it truly is: a compulsion.
And the more I read, the farther I am enthralled by these two people. And it is strange because usually when this happens it is because I want to live that life, to feel those feelings, to experience life in ways that I have yet to. This is not the case here. I am obsessed with their compulsion because I need to understand it, to understand this need that has somehow overtaken me already. This sounds strange in the context of this book if you know anything about it. But I'm talking about the bare bones of the story. Obviously it is an extreme example, but it is also the epitome of what it desperately tries to describe. The compulsion to love the one person that is not necessarily easy to love... practically, emotionally, physically, or otherwise. Because that is what I do, what I have always done, what I am doing once again.
But I ask you this, is it wrong to want to be compulsed by him?
J-L
Monday, May 14, 2012
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Time, and tests, will tell
"One thing Winny had learned from books was that you had to be tested in life to discover who you were and what you were capable of doing. Hopeless sissy, noble warrior, maniac-- he could be anything, and he wouldn't know until he was tested."- Dean Koontz (77 Shadow Street)
"As you have observed, it is the nature of human beings to exploit one another ruthlessly and to ravage nature as well, again and again and again over the centuries. No class or race or faction is innocent of that crime."- Dean Koontz (77 Shadow Street)
"By their nature, heroes leave outsize footprints, overblown and dangerous legends, therefore, in a well-ordered and efficient world, there would be no place for them."- Dean Koontz (77 Shadow Street)
"Fear is the engine that drives the human animal. Humanity sees the world as a place of uncountable threats, and so the world becomes what humanity imagines it to be."- Dean Koontz (77 Shadow Street)
The clean paper is almost menacing, waiting for me to ruin it with these misspelled words and misrepresented emotions. I remember days where fear was not present or if it was it was only that the words would never stop, or that the pen may run out of ink or my hand would cramp before the words refused to flow. Life is much different now. Words are few and far between, as is inspiration. Life is fleeting, and yet I have no words for it. I cannot explain how it feels to question whether I want to know if my life is about to drastically be in jeopardy. It is frustrating to try to pick out the emotions when so many are zooming around inside of my crowded head. They are attacking me in phases, breaking me down with each onslaught of doubt, pain, worry, regret, loss, sadness, and longing. And we are back to the age old question: if you could know if you were going to die, would you want to know? Would it change your life, the way you live it? Would knowing that soon all of this will be gone, and that you might get to fall in love, and you might even have time to have children, and to find happiness and purpose in life, but that you would have to inevitably leave it all behind change if you choose to do those things? It's hard to fathom, and the words fail me, fail to save me.
But the answer is obvious, the answer to the question at least. I have to know, because it will change things... it might even change everything. Can I truly have children knowing that they will grow up most of their lives without a mother? Can I have children knowing that there is a large likelihood that I will pass on this "bad gene" and they too will suffer as I might, as my father did. Is it fair to affect my world as my father inevitably affected ours? This pain, I wouldn't wish it upon anyone.
Time, and tests will tell. Until then, the ticking clock is nearly unbearable.
"As you have observed, it is the nature of human beings to exploit one another ruthlessly and to ravage nature as well, again and again and again over the centuries. No class or race or faction is innocent of that crime."- Dean Koontz (77 Shadow Street)
"By their nature, heroes leave outsize footprints, overblown and dangerous legends, therefore, in a well-ordered and efficient world, there would be no place for them."- Dean Koontz (77 Shadow Street)
"Fear is the engine that drives the human animal. Humanity sees the world as a place of uncountable threats, and so the world becomes what humanity imagines it to be."- Dean Koontz (77 Shadow Street)
The clean paper is almost menacing, waiting for me to ruin it with these misspelled words and misrepresented emotions. I remember days where fear was not present or if it was it was only that the words would never stop, or that the pen may run out of ink or my hand would cramp before the words refused to flow. Life is much different now. Words are few and far between, as is inspiration. Life is fleeting, and yet I have no words for it. I cannot explain how it feels to question whether I want to know if my life is about to drastically be in jeopardy. It is frustrating to try to pick out the emotions when so many are zooming around inside of my crowded head. They are attacking me in phases, breaking me down with each onslaught of doubt, pain, worry, regret, loss, sadness, and longing. And we are back to the age old question: if you could know if you were going to die, would you want to know? Would it change your life, the way you live it? Would knowing that soon all of this will be gone, and that you might get to fall in love, and you might even have time to have children, and to find happiness and purpose in life, but that you would have to inevitably leave it all behind change if you choose to do those things? It's hard to fathom, and the words fail me, fail to save me.
But the answer is obvious, the answer to the question at least. I have to know, because it will change things... it might even change everything. Can I truly have children knowing that they will grow up most of their lives without a mother? Can I have children knowing that there is a large likelihood that I will pass on this "bad gene" and they too will suffer as I might, as my father did. Is it fair to affect my world as my father inevitably affected ours? This pain, I wouldn't wish it upon anyone.
Time, and tests will tell. Until then, the ticking clock is nearly unbearable.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
The hero(ine)
Some days the trail of carnage that marks my path is overwhelming, surprising. It's almost as if I am not the girl that left them there. It takes on a cartoonish representation in this unlikely satire. If I could describe it in words it may be rather dark, depressing, and a little too enlightening for the feint of heart. You might know everything about me, but I'm almost determined to never ever show you this.
Memory is a funny thing. The more you want to change something, the easier that memory is to change. It warps faster than normal memory when you wish more than anything that it would have been different, that you would have made another choice. So maybe you wake up two weeks, two years, two decades later, and you remember it exactly as it should have gone. You were the hero (the heroine) of the world. You didn't break his heart, you saved it from shattering. You didn't lie to him, you saved him from a much deadlier truth. And you bury those real memories under bullshit until they do not even seem to exist anymore. Seem. To. Exist. Key words.
The bodies are piling up faster than you ever imagined was possible. You walk into a room and all hearts are on you suddenly. They are all begging for your attention, for your expertise. It's almost amazing how quickly they have begun to fall. for her. for you. but mostly for me. This is the girl that they fall in love with. The girl that puts all of her shit out into the world and just is. The girl that isn't afraid to be broken, or confused, or undecided. They fall for the version of me that needs fixing, but doesn't ever expect to be fixed. Because like all men, they love to fix broken things, to put things back together, to reassemble without instructions. The problem is that as much as they are addicted to fixing me, i'm addicted to shattering. I have perfected the art of shattering into a thousand misguided and ill-intended pieces.
I say that I believe life is about the pursuit of love, and most days I mean that. I believe that we are put on this earth to find that one other soul that will make us whole again, that there is a perfect match in this world for each and every one of us. I am the most disgusting romantic that you will ever meet, but I am also deep down in my core a realist. I got my love. And it is because of this love that I learned the ultimate thrill.
Some people bungee jump, others skydive, but not this girl. This girl slays her victims of love with the double bladed sword of vengeance. Taking back a piece of herself that she never intended to give away before it's too late. Because it was too late once... maybe even twice... and she never ever wants to feel that pain again. She is fine with shattering, she knows the pain is only temporary because she causes it now, but back then it was him that broke her. He threw her against that wall and like a sheet of glass she scattered across the floor of that apartment. She left something there that she may never find again. And as she looks back at the wreckage, at the toll of hearts on her conscience, she wonders if maybe she did not create the same kind of monsters along the way.
Memory is a funny thing. The more you want to change something, the easier that memory is to change. It warps faster than normal memory when you wish more than anything that it would have been different, that you would have made another choice. So maybe you wake up two weeks, two years, two decades later, and you remember it exactly as it should have gone. You were the hero (the heroine) of the world. You didn't break his heart, you saved it from shattering. You didn't lie to him, you saved him from a much deadlier truth. And you bury those real memories under bullshit until they do not even seem to exist anymore. Seem. To. Exist. Key words.
The bodies are piling up faster than you ever imagined was possible. You walk into a room and all hearts are on you suddenly. They are all begging for your attention, for your expertise. It's almost amazing how quickly they have begun to fall. for her. for you. but mostly for me. This is the girl that they fall in love with. The girl that puts all of her shit out into the world and just is. The girl that isn't afraid to be broken, or confused, or undecided. They fall for the version of me that needs fixing, but doesn't ever expect to be fixed. Because like all men, they love to fix broken things, to put things back together, to reassemble without instructions. The problem is that as much as they are addicted to fixing me, i'm addicted to shattering. I have perfected the art of shattering into a thousand misguided and ill-intended pieces.
I say that I believe life is about the pursuit of love, and most days I mean that. I believe that we are put on this earth to find that one other soul that will make us whole again, that there is a perfect match in this world for each and every one of us. I am the most disgusting romantic that you will ever meet, but I am also deep down in my core a realist. I got my love. And it is because of this love that I learned the ultimate thrill.
Some people bungee jump, others skydive, but not this girl. This girl slays her victims of love with the double bladed sword of vengeance. Taking back a piece of herself that she never intended to give away before it's too late. Because it was too late once... maybe even twice... and she never ever wants to feel that pain again. She is fine with shattering, she knows the pain is only temporary because she causes it now, but back then it was him that broke her. He threw her against that wall and like a sheet of glass she scattered across the floor of that apartment. She left something there that she may never find again. And as she looks back at the wreckage, at the toll of hearts on her conscience, she wonders if maybe she did not create the same kind of monsters along the way.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Twisting myself back up in love/life
"life doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be lived"-Dexter
And as the fear creeps in deeper, running already sounds enticing. This soul was born to run, impulsive to the core, but the biggest fear is what happens when I can't run anymore. And if I'll ever find what I run for.
Am I scared to get hurt, or that I've found a place worth being still for? My heart continues beating, my mind is racing at a frenzied pace, but amazingly my hands are steady. Only here. And as I say this I can hear what its like when he smiles.
This world is a mess of contradictions and nonsensical bullshit, but I love every twisted note. I love that I hear his smiles, taste his apprehension, smell his doubt, feel his absence, and imagine a place where this is routine, mutual, a place where finally there is no reason nor temptation to run. ever again. Or at least for one more night.
Monday, January 16, 2012
untangling the web
The concept of time is something that I can no more put out of my mind than I can erase, or escape it. Memories are remnants of this time, and as those memories fade, I am left to wonder if time itself does not fade, and eventually cease to exist. We wake up and we live each day and we go through the seconds and minutes and hours as if they are nothing, but once we live them, and cease to remember them, do they themselves fade away?
And as I stood there today, realizing that everything that we ever had was gone, I smiled. I reveled in the fact that he no longer existed there, that maybe we no longer had to exist either. All that remains of us is the fact that we have both found our way here. I understand what here means to me, although I'm not really sure where or what here actually is. What it is for him, I don't really care. Because even though it is here for him, it doesn't have to be here for me anymore. I have finally escaped the tangled web we chose to weave all of those years ago, and I feel confident in the fact that I am better for it.
Fate is for the believers, destiny is for the lovers... somehow I find myself somewhere in between these. Locked between fate and destiny and believing and loving. You would be amazed by the amount of lies that exist in this space. So, I wonder if I can believe in that happy ending, or simply bask in the utter lunacy of it.
And as I stood there today, realizing that everything that we ever had was gone, I smiled. I reveled in the fact that he no longer existed there, that maybe we no longer had to exist either. All that remains of us is the fact that we have both found our way here. I understand what here means to me, although I'm not really sure where or what here actually is. What it is for him, I don't really care. Because even though it is here for him, it doesn't have to be here for me anymore. I have finally escaped the tangled web we chose to weave all of those years ago, and I feel confident in the fact that I am better for it.
Fate is for the believers, destiny is for the lovers... somehow I find myself somewhere in between these. Locked between fate and destiny and believing and loving. You would be amazed by the amount of lies that exist in this space. So, I wonder if I can believe in that happy ending, or simply bask in the utter lunacy of it.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
love and contradictions
Today the world melted away again. I woke up and it was different, but somehow still the same. And it is only now that I am realizing that the world didn't change this time. I did. I think I finally realized that it might be time to grow up. Life isn't all about having fun, or going crazy. It isn't about making stupid decisions, and laughing about them later. Life is definitely not about sharing a bed with someone different every couple days. It's about all of those things too... all of those things make up my life. Every bad decision, and every stupid choice, and every good one too. That is my life. But now I want it to be more, I need it to be more. Life is about finding that one person that you want to spend your life with and sharing everything with them. Life someday does not need to be this lonely. Because right now that's what it is. Lonely. The kind of lonely that permeates to the very center of my chest and just sits there night after night. Its like a hole, with a weight inside. I know what I'm missing. The problem is that I'm not sure who it is that will ever fill it. I've been in love before, this I am sure of, but I have never ever found a love that filled that space inside. Everyone tells me to wait, to be patient, that love will find me one day, and I'll just know, but what if I didn't know and I already walked away from it? What if I didn't get the right (possibly wrong) guy a chance? These what ifs are overpowering sometimes. They take my breath away, and they make the loneliness creep in a little farther.
And I am left sitting at the bar, next to a boy that I have known for a long time and he looks different. And the way he looks at me is different than he used to, and I guess I've seen this for a while. I've seen that something changed along the way, something in the way he catches my eye across the room and smiles at me. Something in the way he hugs me goodbye, like he holds on a little longer than before, and is a little more tender than he used to be. And this makes me want to change how I look at him, but then those what ifs rear their heads again and I wonder if it's only because I'm lonely. He's a great guy, and to be quite honest I would trust any of my best friends hearts in his hand. I'm not sure who said it, or where I heard it, or if the information is even plausible or believable, but there was a day in the not too distant past when someone somewhere said that every lonely single girl worries and cries about the fact that she is alone, when if she just took the time to look around her she has at least one guy friend that would die to spend their life and conquer the world with her. I can do that. I can look at my life and I can see at least four guys that would drop everything they have to be with me. But I still have one little problem. I'm not willing to drop my life for any of them. If we were supposed to love each other, wouldn't we already be together? But then there's the fact that if I never make any steps to change those relationships that they will never change, they will never evolve.
So here's the problem. Everything that anyone ever tells you about love is contradicting. "wait for love to come to you". "best friends usually end up falling in love". "nothing will happen if you don't get out there and do something about it". "change is necessary". "love never changes". It's all crap. I could easily love someone that already loves me, but for some reason that's just not enough for me, it never has been. I need that epic earth shattering love. The kind that fate brings, and battling keeps. I want someone to fight to get me and fight to keep me, and never fight with me. I want love that is enough for my entire life.
Because this hole inside of me is growing as each day passes. The sun rises, and with it comes a carving knife. I fear that if love does not find me, and soon that I will eventually not want to wake up anymore to witness the destruction. Love is the only cure to this kind of loneliness. But I can't find it, and am starting to wonder if I ever will.
J-L
And I am left sitting at the bar, next to a boy that I have known for a long time and he looks different. And the way he looks at me is different than he used to, and I guess I've seen this for a while. I've seen that something changed along the way, something in the way he catches my eye across the room and smiles at me. Something in the way he hugs me goodbye, like he holds on a little longer than before, and is a little more tender than he used to be. And this makes me want to change how I look at him, but then those what ifs rear their heads again and I wonder if it's only because I'm lonely. He's a great guy, and to be quite honest I would trust any of my best friends hearts in his hand. I'm not sure who said it, or where I heard it, or if the information is even plausible or believable, but there was a day in the not too distant past when someone somewhere said that every lonely single girl worries and cries about the fact that she is alone, when if she just took the time to look around her she has at least one guy friend that would die to spend their life and conquer the world with her. I can do that. I can look at my life and I can see at least four guys that would drop everything they have to be with me. But I still have one little problem. I'm not willing to drop my life for any of them. If we were supposed to love each other, wouldn't we already be together? But then there's the fact that if I never make any steps to change those relationships that they will never change, they will never evolve.
So here's the problem. Everything that anyone ever tells you about love is contradicting. "wait for love to come to you". "best friends usually end up falling in love". "nothing will happen if you don't get out there and do something about it". "change is necessary". "love never changes". It's all crap. I could easily love someone that already loves me, but for some reason that's just not enough for me, it never has been. I need that epic earth shattering love. The kind that fate brings, and battling keeps. I want someone to fight to get me and fight to keep me, and never fight with me. I want love that is enough for my entire life.
Because this hole inside of me is growing as each day passes. The sun rises, and with it comes a carving knife. I fear that if love does not find me, and soon that I will eventually not want to wake up anymore to witness the destruction. Love is the only cure to this kind of loneliness. But I can't find it, and am starting to wonder if I ever will.
J-L
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Footprints in the snow
The world looks so innocent encased in white. As if nothing can touch it, and it has never been touched before. A virgin to the horrors of the world. And then someone touches it. Leaves their mark in a permanently impermanent way.
Even as she writes it she knows that he will not see it. The snow continues to fall covering the letters ever so slowly, and she watches them fade away. She knows she ruined the pristine illusion, but also revels in the fact that snow is self protecting. It regenerates much like a starfish... And soon it will be as if she had never been here to even witness the storm.
She is jealous if the fact that she cannot fade away as easily as her footprints in the snow.
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