love and life in neverland

readers discretion is advised... the following entry may include foul language, depressing and most likely irrational and incoherent thoughts, and improper grammar usage... read on at your own risk. but if you do read on, please comment to your heart's content! :)

oh if it were like the times of the turn of the 19th century, where love blossomed in long distance letters; when infatuation and sexual tension were so painfully obvious, but yet never revealed through speech or act (at least not for a few years). such anguish and heartache suffered by throngs of love birds all because of a lack of courage to speak one's heart. perhaps it is due to a lack of courage, to which we can most relate today, or perhaps due to society's expectations of women, and the wealth strings attached to marriage.

i have just finished watching a movie version of Jane Austen's Mansfeld Park. (I can't wait to read the novel.) It was a perfect match for my melancholic mood. Was the young heroine Fannie Price foolish to turn down a wealthy man in hopes that the object of her affection might one day return her, until then, unrequited love? It would be easy to think that if one is pure / pure of heart, then true love will prevail.

But really, what is love? i suppose it is thanks to our human biological instinct to reproduce that we're so obsessed with finding it. to love is to live? is its worth overestimated? is love overrated?

i think i'm going through my second existential crisis. the first came while in the painfully beautiful and tragic city of lights. the questions i asked myself then also revolved around love. a young man confessed his disillusionments to me one evening while walking along the river seine. i was deeply affected by what he, at the time, considered to be truths or newfound revelations to his images of love.

another young man believed that physical, crazy-about-you love lasts only 4? years. (i've forgotten how long exactly.) after that, the theory goes, the couple is simply dedicated to each other and can't afford to separate. it evolves into a mutual appreciation and admiration, into a platonic kind of love.

i am too young to allow myself to buy into this wretchedly depressing theory. if it is true, then the idea of true love really is a sham. then hollywood just makes us all into dellusional idiots who'll pay $10 to go to the cinema, salivating at the chance to see the impossibilities life can never provide, played out on the big screen. oh what a great story, we all think as we leave the theater. we all like to think we relate to the main character, but if this theory is true, we only imagine that these fairy tale endings can one day happen to us.

all i know is that life is too short to force it. staying with someone about whom you're not passionate is, in my humble opinion, not worth the heartaches and the inevitable stress waiting for you at the end of the relationship rainbow. why falsify emotions based on staged promises and words and actions? shakespeare got it wrong. life is not a stage and we are not merely all players. acting has its consequences, and should be avoided at all costs, espeically in the game of love.

i think the real source of my angst is not a newfound disbelief in love, but in the impending reality that awaits me. i am most likely scared of the real world into which i must plunge in a measely 2 weeks. i cannot figure out what to do with myself. i woke up from a nightmare this morning and could not fall asleep again because the thought that i'd never get into law school would not escape my skull. what a silly thought to worry over. who gives if i don't go to law school? i don't even want to be a lawyer. i simply feel lost, which is a frightening thought considering i haven't even left the comforts of my home, family, and old friends. i am that tragic middle class ivy league snot nose brat who has so much going for him/her that it becomes overwhelming.

i feel like i am suffering from a delusional case of underacheivement; that no matter what i've done in the past was not good enough. but what does that even mean, good enough? good enough according to whom, to what standard?

it's simply another example of the classic coming of age story bullshit. i've come home from college to realize that my friends have moved on (some more violently than others); that my family has lives of their own (imagine that!); that these people are not as perfect, flawless and devoted to my own peace of mind and happiness as i've always believed, probably a result of that terribly narrow perspective childhood and even more so adolescence leaves upon us all; that my own pathetic future will be all that i have to look forward to.

i suppose it is natural to worry about the realities of love in a situation such as this. one thinks that love will conquer all; if i am in love with the perfect person, than nothing can be unbearable, etc. or is this precisely the myth "they" want us to believe.

before mansfeld park, i watch garden state on television. here the young kids with major problems of their own find a way to overcome them by loving each other. well, that sure is nice. but is it real? or is it simply another societal lie that is perpetually handed down to the younger generations? why is the divorce rate so high if marriage is what we're all 'supposed' to do... that which is natural... give me a break.

the most comforting thing about life, however, is that we can easily run away from all these natural (i hope!) and depressing thoughts by thinking about something else, by finding one of the many disctractions modern society has given us. for instance, reading AIM profiles for hours on end, spider solitaire, friends' photos posted online (is my hair really that terrible? at least i look better than her. oh my god! no she didn't dance up on my boyfriend! etc, etc), cable tv's endless array of mindnumbing entertainment, mastrubation, or the equally indulgent equivalent of chocolate, going to the gym or for a run, yoga, drugs, sports, religion. oh so many choices! is this what life is really all about? choosing among the various distractions life presents us to hide from our ridiculous emotions? maybe i should just go on birth control to even my hormones out. that way, i won't have to feel bad ever again! muwahahaha!

yes, this maybe my cynicism speaking, but i find that in order to find true art within, it's better to embrace the dark side of our emotions. this blog entry may be a great example! i'm writing my thoughts out for the whole internet public to read, criticize, and most probably reject as misspelled crazy-talk, simply because if i didn't get them out of my head, i'd be in trouble. destructive art is the best kind i can produce. and it sure beats destructive behavior, in my opinion. that's not to say that this blog entry is artful in anyway, but hey, fuck it. it's written and i'm going to bed.