To Crush or Be Crushed? How... Crushing.
What I SHOULD be doing is either sleeping or studying for a quiz which will, otherwise, nasally sodomize me come nine hours from now. Nonetheless, I have decided to spend the remainder of my laptop's battery discussing everyone's favorite (if you're taken) or least-favorite (if you're single and pessimistic) topic: romance. Those of you who would rather not read on, I highly recommend Oni's latest Eyezmaze puzzler, Dwarf. It'll take at least two hours of your time, and it'll be damn worth it. Moving right along!
I can't help but to recall, with smiles and shaken heads, the number of girls/women in my life I've found myself crushing on, whether idly or fervently. I used to joke that I could list one person I've "liked" for every letter in the alphabet until I realized that I wasn't joking anymore. Scary concept, especially with the number of "X" names out there. One question comes to mind here, though: "Why do you crush so easily?" Seeing as I'm actively developing a fetish for multiple-choice answers, choose one:
1) Hell if I know.
2) Because they're damn pretty.
3) Because I want somebody to love.
4) There is no four. Seriously, it's bad luck.
Now, I know what you might be thinking: "You crush on girls by their looks? Shallow little dipfuck." You know, you're absolutely right. I'll be the first (or second, if you're really quick) to admit that I'm considerably superficial. It's not something I'm completely comfortable with, mind you, but it's something I've come to, well, begrudgingly accept. The common "plus side" to this is that, as some may argue, "everyone's superficial to a point." To which I fart, and implore that it can't possibly be all about looks. If that were the case, Christ-on-a-crutch I've got me a handicap. (It's not that I think I'm ugly by any means. I just know when I'm beat.)
This is the part about the "game" of romance that both freaks me the fuck out and excites me like nothing else (save for Tetris, maybe). In high school, for example, there was at least one particular girl who EVERYONE either liked, wanted to get to know better, or wanted to express sympathetic dominance via the phallus. (Yes, I'm talking about sex.) Naturally, I liked her, too. But the kicker is - I barely knew the girl. It wasn't so much of a "two different worlds" issue - though there was that, as well - but rather, most of what I knew about her was her hair, face, figure - that sort of thing. I probably realized this then, but only recently have I been able to put it into words. This one goes out to all you single guys who have fallen in love. Simply:
What makes you different from the rest? One problem I've had when I come to "like" someone is that I fail to realize I'm not, comparatively, "unique" compared to other guys in my situation. Usually this happens far too late, and usually the consequences have tasted like dead squirrels. Or Airwolf. For every instance where the girl either continues to accept me as a friend or doesn't care otherwise, I find myself disturbingly thankful. Also, this "problem" sometimes winds up being a solution, in that I might devote a lot of thought to one girl before deciding to move on prematurely. Is it giving up? Is it avoiding conflict? Is it doing the girl a favor? All of the above, perhaps.
Even now, I've run into a handful of girls (and guys, oddly) who've been getting all sorts of usually unwanted attention. Unfortunately for them, a lot of their hopeful suitors have no idea what they're getting themselves into. When guys like girls (well, at least for me) we tend to put them on a certain pedestal. It's like having a folder just for them in the hard drive of your own memory, to put it nerdly. It's not that much of a bad thing if you know the person well, but even then it leads to another question:
What does SHE want? It's a risky game to play, especially when said girl might find your feelings offensive or otherwise damaging to whatever relationship you've already established. Keep in mind these words are coming from someone who, even as an adult, has been called naive, innocent, and markedly stupid. (Guilty as charged.) I don't play the popularized "dating" game, largely due to my own inadequacies and what have you. What I've noticed, though, is that my dealing with my own feelings tends to mirror how I play Backgammon or even poker. I'll start very conservatively, then make a sudden, awkward attempt at risk. I've lost both money and trust this way. Not fun.
It could just be that I'm afraid of taking risks, but at the same time I don't see the immediate benefit in playing aggressively. At least three good friends of mine - all male, all proud - take this approach in life, and bizarrely they've all been fairly successful. Does this mean I should follow suit? I don't want to "change who I am," but what if it's for the best? For myself, and for those around me? The past year or so (coincidentally, since the Haystack Needlism fallout) has been surprisingly jarring. My own "problems," which by policy I tend to internalize to the point of maddening secrecy, are never as deep, damaging, or otherwise bad as those of my friends, so I tell myself "Shut up, shut up, you baby!" a la Annette Bening in American Beauty and move on.
I'm sorry, that was a tangent. And yet, I wouldn't be surprised if a lot of my readers feel the same way about romance. Fellow nerds, maybe. Or, hell. Just anyone dealing with insecurities, worries, doubts - anyone who reacts at the tiniest word, facial expression, MySpace update, IM window delay - if you're afraid that I'm talking about you, then yes, I AM talking about you. People like us, we make it our life's goal to "do something" about our personal problems. A lot of us, myself included, never do. Either we don't find the time, we don't MAKE the time, or we're too caught up in our own darkness to appreciate the warmth of the light that ironically surrounds us.
This is where I have to give some props to my mother, and so help me if you're reading this, mom, you have too much free time. She introduced me, via the highwarlord Oprah, to The Secret, a movie/philosophical concept/painfully true argument such that how we think and act perpetually defines and polishes our future. "No shit," you may think, but think of it this way. If you've been mistreated in some traumatic way, and in the years thereafter preach your victimhood or find solace in being victimized, then you've sealed your own fate. Not to say that failure to recover is your own damn fault, but for some people, maybe it is. Maybe you surround yourself in that mindset, and, well, plummet.
Instead, look up. Ue o muite motherfucking arukoo. View your life as good. As a success that can only lead to greater successes. Then like an Englishman who went up a hill but came down a mountain, you'll find yourself flooding in heavy metal. (Or tofu, if you're allergic to metals. If you're soy-allergenic, umm, ... ... hmm ... what's something no one could possibly be allergic to ... ... ... air.) Me, I'll admit that I'm not the most content of people. To a lot of people, I'm brilliantly insane, the happiest person in the world even with the world's most decoratively compact penis. Even while I find myself growingly upset with how I've led my life, "deep down inside" I know that it still makes much more sense to smile.
So what does this have to do with crushing on people? Honestly, go for it. Seriously. If the girl you like is disgusted by your emotions, then there's a good chance she isn't worth your time. If the girl winds up being too immature, too stubborn, or if you find yourself regretting every minute spent with her, ... you get the idea. But if she's responsive to who you are, or if she smiles when you tell a joke, GO FOR IT.
(Here's one of my favorite jokes, just as an example. Two muffins are in an oven. One of them says to the other, "Dang, it's kinda hot in here, yeah?" The other muffin replies, "Holy shit!! It's a talking muffin!!")
The ideal relationship, as far as I've noticed, starts with a nice, lasting friendship. There's the risk that the girl won't want to view you as anything other than a friend, but that's a risk you're going to have to take. There's the risk that you're going to be rejected. Bounce right the fuck back. Get out there and dance, or sing, or just enjoy the fuck out of life. I'm 22, and it's bugging me to shit that I'm only realizing all of this now. I feel like I'm "late" because of it, but I know that I still have AT LEAST 78 more years to live life like a fucking rock star, and NOT die a lonely, pathetic piece of Soylent Green. (Of course, I do still plan on being immortal, but that's just me.)
I, for one, am going to tell someone tomorrow that I think they're fucking beautiful. I haven't decided who yet, as I don't have any set crushes to speak of, but I know I'm going to. And honestly, I don't care. All of that negative nonsense - jealousy, doubt, depression, guilt, gluttony, regret - gets boring after a while. Flip the coin, and it'll hit you like a ton of Kubricks. There's beauty everywhere. Women are beautiful; this is undeniable. But there's also beauty in willpower, in independence, in open-mindedness. In knowing yourself, in being proud of yourself, in accepting who you are, in not being embarrassed that you're a fucking geek, in learning a lesson, in living life on your terms. Be beautiful, dammit. Or else.
My battery's only 2/3 gone, but this entry stopped making sense two-thirds in, so I'm totally cool with it. Time to brush my teeth.
I can't help but to recall, with smiles and shaken heads, the number of girls/women in my life I've found myself crushing on, whether idly or fervently. I used to joke that I could list one person I've "liked" for every letter in the alphabet until I realized that I wasn't joking anymore. Scary concept, especially with the number of "X" names out there. One question comes to mind here, though: "Why do you crush so easily?" Seeing as I'm actively developing a fetish for multiple-choice answers, choose one:
1) Hell if I know.
2) Because they're damn pretty.
3) Because I want somebody to love.
4) There is no four. Seriously, it's bad luck.
Now, I know what you might be thinking: "You crush on girls by their looks? Shallow little dipfuck." You know, you're absolutely right. I'll be the first (or second, if you're really quick) to admit that I'm considerably superficial. It's not something I'm completely comfortable with, mind you, but it's something I've come to, well, begrudgingly accept. The common "plus side" to this is that, as some may argue, "everyone's superficial to a point." To which I fart, and implore that it can't possibly be all about looks. If that were the case, Christ-on-a-crutch I've got me a handicap. (It's not that I think I'm ugly by any means. I just know when I'm beat.)
This is the part about the "game" of romance that both freaks me the fuck out and excites me like nothing else (save for Tetris, maybe). In high school, for example, there was at least one particular girl who EVERYONE either liked, wanted to get to know better, or wanted to express sympathetic dominance via the phallus. (Yes, I'm talking about sex.) Naturally, I liked her, too. But the kicker is - I barely knew the girl. It wasn't so much of a "two different worlds" issue - though there was that, as well - but rather, most of what I knew about her was her hair, face, figure - that sort of thing. I probably realized this then, but only recently have I been able to put it into words. This one goes out to all you single guys who have fallen in love. Simply:
What makes you different from the rest? One problem I've had when I come to "like" someone is that I fail to realize I'm not, comparatively, "unique" compared to other guys in my situation. Usually this happens far too late, and usually the consequences have tasted like dead squirrels. Or Airwolf. For every instance where the girl either continues to accept me as a friend or doesn't care otherwise, I find myself disturbingly thankful. Also, this "problem" sometimes winds up being a solution, in that I might devote a lot of thought to one girl before deciding to move on prematurely. Is it giving up? Is it avoiding conflict? Is it doing the girl a favor? All of the above, perhaps.
Even now, I've run into a handful of girls (and guys, oddly) who've been getting all sorts of usually unwanted attention. Unfortunately for them, a lot of their hopeful suitors have no idea what they're getting themselves into. When guys like girls (well, at least for me) we tend to put them on a certain pedestal. It's like having a folder just for them in the hard drive of your own memory, to put it nerdly. It's not that much of a bad thing if you know the person well, but even then it leads to another question:
What does SHE want? It's a risky game to play, especially when said girl might find your feelings offensive or otherwise damaging to whatever relationship you've already established. Keep in mind these words are coming from someone who, even as an adult, has been called naive, innocent, and markedly stupid. (Guilty as charged.) I don't play the popularized "dating" game, largely due to my own inadequacies and what have you. What I've noticed, though, is that my dealing with my own feelings tends to mirror how I play Backgammon or even poker. I'll start very conservatively, then make a sudden, awkward attempt at risk. I've lost both money and trust this way. Not fun.
It could just be that I'm afraid of taking risks, but at the same time I don't see the immediate benefit in playing aggressively. At least three good friends of mine - all male, all proud - take this approach in life, and bizarrely they've all been fairly successful. Does this mean I should follow suit? I don't want to "change who I am," but what if it's for the best? For myself, and for those around me? The past year or so (coincidentally, since the Haystack Needlism fallout) has been surprisingly jarring. My own "problems," which by policy I tend to internalize to the point of maddening secrecy, are never as deep, damaging, or otherwise bad as those of my friends, so I tell myself "Shut up, shut up, you baby!" a la Annette Bening in American Beauty and move on.
I'm sorry, that was a tangent. And yet, I wouldn't be surprised if a lot of my readers feel the same way about romance. Fellow nerds, maybe. Or, hell. Just anyone dealing with insecurities, worries, doubts - anyone who reacts at the tiniest word, facial expression, MySpace update, IM window delay - if you're afraid that I'm talking about you, then yes, I AM talking about you. People like us, we make it our life's goal to "do something" about our personal problems. A lot of us, myself included, never do. Either we don't find the time, we don't MAKE the time, or we're too caught up in our own darkness to appreciate the warmth of the light that ironically surrounds us.
This is where I have to give some props to my mother, and so help me if you're reading this, mom, you have too much free time. She introduced me, via the highwarlord Oprah, to The Secret, a movie/philosophical concept/painfully true argument such that how we think and act perpetually defines and polishes our future. "No shit," you may think, but think of it this way. If you've been mistreated in some traumatic way, and in the years thereafter preach your victimhood or find solace in being victimized, then you've sealed your own fate. Not to say that failure to recover is your own damn fault, but for some people, maybe it is. Maybe you surround yourself in that mindset, and, well, plummet.
Instead, look up. Ue o muite motherfucking arukoo. View your life as good. As a success that can only lead to greater successes. Then like an Englishman who went up a hill but came down a mountain, you'll find yourself flooding in heavy metal. (Or tofu, if you're allergic to metals. If you're soy-allergenic, umm, ... ... hmm ... what's something no one could possibly be allergic to ... ... ... air.) Me, I'll admit that I'm not the most content of people. To a lot of people, I'm brilliantly insane, the happiest person in the world even with the world's most decoratively compact penis. Even while I find myself growingly upset with how I've led my life, "deep down inside" I know that it still makes much more sense to smile.
So what does this have to do with crushing on people? Honestly, go for it. Seriously. If the girl you like is disgusted by your emotions, then there's a good chance she isn't worth your time. If the girl winds up being too immature, too stubborn, or if you find yourself regretting every minute spent with her, ... you get the idea. But if she's responsive to who you are, or if she smiles when you tell a joke, GO FOR IT.
(Here's one of my favorite jokes, just as an example. Two muffins are in an oven. One of them says to the other, "Dang, it's kinda hot in here, yeah?" The other muffin replies, "Holy shit!! It's a talking muffin!!")
The ideal relationship, as far as I've noticed, starts with a nice, lasting friendship. There's the risk that the girl won't want to view you as anything other than a friend, but that's a risk you're going to have to take. There's the risk that you're going to be rejected. Bounce right the fuck back. Get out there and dance, or sing, or just enjoy the fuck out of life. I'm 22, and it's bugging me to shit that I'm only realizing all of this now. I feel like I'm "late" because of it, but I know that I still have AT LEAST 78 more years to live life like a fucking rock star, and NOT die a lonely, pathetic piece of Soylent Green. (Of course, I do still plan on being immortal, but that's just me.)
I, for one, am going to tell someone tomorrow that I think they're fucking beautiful. I haven't decided who yet, as I don't have any set crushes to speak of, but I know I'm going to. And honestly, I don't care. All of that negative nonsense - jealousy, doubt, depression, guilt, gluttony, regret - gets boring after a while. Flip the coin, and it'll hit you like a ton of Kubricks. There's beauty everywhere. Women are beautiful; this is undeniable. But there's also beauty in willpower, in independence, in open-mindedness. In knowing yourself, in being proud of yourself, in accepting who you are, in not being embarrassed that you're a fucking geek, in learning a lesson, in living life on your terms. Be beautiful, dammit. Or else.
My battery's only 2/3 gone, but this entry stopped making sense two-thirds in, so I'm totally cool with it. Time to brush my teeth.