The Love Blog

I caved and decided to write a “love blog” like I've seen several of my friends write. I'm sort of a tool, but not entirely. This blog is, I think, written from the “other side of the fence,” if such a euphemism is permissible.

I don't have a “love,” nor have I ever. I've come close several times. At least three. One time the girl went, quite literally, crazy and joined a cult. That was five years ago and counting that she disappeared into complete anonymity. Again, I loved the “bad girl” and she loved me back, or so she said. It turns out that by “I love you too,” what she really meant is, “I'm going to date you once, string you along for several months, and then date a meth head waste case before I spiral downwards into my own self destructive hell.” That's only a rough approximation of what I believe to be her true intent behind her obfuscated verbiage. The third was of my own volition. The opportunity was there, but I screwed it up. It might have been for the better, but so many variables have occurred since then and now, that I might have made a mistake. Either way, one cannot dwell in the past.

My goal wasn't to come here and bemoan my own shortcomings, or damn the entire nature of love, or garner sympathy. This blog is for future love.

Future love is something I've been giving a lot of thought to recently. One of the big questions in my head is why? Why should I be loved? Is there any justification in me having happiness in the form of love from another? Realistically, isn't the only being that has guaranteed His love for me is God, my creator? Why do I deserve to love?

The other night, when I was writing, it came to me that I would really love to see the way love affects my writing. I've seen other events shape my writing, and love would definitely be another step in my evolution. I've seen the effect loneliness has on my writing, I've seen anger's effect, depression, happiness, euphoria, reflection, and theoretical love, but not that deep running romantic love one experiences in that “dedicated relationship,” or whatever the devil it is you kids call it these days.

Sometimes, like right now and mostly all of today, and probably this whole week with the exception of Wednesday, I feel entirely self sufficient. I sometimes feel as if I don't need another person. In fact, I feel that way more often than not. It's mostly in times of extreme loneliness, boredom, or depression that I wish for someone beside me. There are also those rare instances that watching other couples can cause some sense of longing. Those instances are fairly rare, however. Most of the time I feel pretty well balanced and happy, though that doesn't answer those “why” questions I asked earlier.

One piece of advice offered up to me as a frustrated high schooler was that “God has someone special planned for me.” Oh yeah? Really. That means a lot coming from the girl who walked all the way across the gym to tell the guy (me) who's sitting on the bleachers not doing a damn thing that, “I would never date you, but you're a good guy, and the guy I date would definitely have to have something of you in him.” That's a nice backhanded comment. Is that some sort of weak gay reference? If not, there's no better place than the source, right? No?

This answer, in the quest for a “yes” to a “why” is a weak gazelle. It somehow presupposes that God provides happiness of this level. It's the type of empty promise that completely ignores the fact that right at this very moment, someone is starving, someone is dying, someone is probably being shot. There's a good probability that they serve the same God I do, and there's also good probability that their death will passed unnoticed. This is the result of that special kind of Americanized Christianity that assumes that God wants me to be healthy and happy. It's also that schizophrenic type of Christianity that says that God orchestrates events, yet I'm still free to choose. But somehow God's going to have me work here or there, or have me marry this or that girl, as if I'm a marble in one of those tricky rolling mazes, in which one has to avoid holes: the results are the product of blind chance + forces outside of my control, which = I did it.

This definitely did nothing to answer the why, but it did help cut off a lot ends that would have become dead ends; bunny trails.

A lot of modern psychology talks about being happy within yourself, and not depending on others for your happiness. You create your happiness. What a load of self serving shit, if ever I heard it. Why would we think that somehow we can create a perpetual motion machine within the human mind and emotions? We can't. You cannot create for yourself. I wanna say that's a law of physics, or some other equally absurd system. Unicorns are probably involved somewhere, or at the very least, a California Condor. Rather, it seems like the human emotion system is a cyclical system. You choose how to react to your atmosphere, and act on that for others. Somehow, creating that emotion in others creates it in yourself, possibly because they've acted upon this back towards you. In all honesty, however, there is something in the process that's somewhat mysterious: somehow the act itself is what generates these genuine good feelings. You see this concept demonstrated all throughout different cultures and religions, but because modern man is so much smarter than our combined ancestry, we've come to realize that happiness is in yourself, which seems to be a total farce. This blog is not the place to debate this, but a life that is characterized by doing things for yourself is often found to be a very depressing and unfulfilled life. Perhaps a good example of this would be someone like Mother Teresa, or possibly even Ghandi (that pansy) vs. someone like Judas (you could argue his death was the product of extreme remorse, and I would agree, but the events leading up to it were characterized by extreme greed) or the shooters at Columbine, who were just all around douches.

To clarify what I think might be an otherwise muddy paragraph, what I mean to say is that I cannot “make happiness for myself.” I cannot make myself happy by granting my heart whatever it desires, or pleasing my eyes with all the things that are pleasing to look on. I cannot conjure happiness out of myself by doing things for myself. Rather, I can “make myself be happy.” I have to choose to be happy in whatever circumstance I am in. People do this all the time, and these people have lives that suck far worse than yours, so shut up. It's sort of a fine line, but the difference is this: I'm sad, so I buy a new car, which gives me “new car euphoria,” a temporary form of happiness at best (and car is interchangeable with any self centered act, purchase, or endeavor). If, however, I feel sad, but choose to do for others, happiness is created. Does this make sense? It's the act of doing good. This isn't to say that you should ignore yourself. Far from it. Recognize limits and needs. For example, I need time to be alone and away from others, almost daily, or I am a colossal pain in the ass. I mean, more so. Contrariwise, there have been several times, and the following just one example, where doing good for someone else while feeling “blue” has served to create happiness in myself: one night I felt depressed and unwanted, but chose to go downtown to help the homeless with my church anyways – give them warm food, blankets, warm drinks. I ended up meeting some people down there that not only caused me to reflect, but then caused me to feel immense satisfaction and contentment. Satisfaction I'm still able to draw on almost a year later. Contrast that with the waning (almost gone) happiness afforded me by that new CD I just “had to have.” Clear? Let's hope so, because here comes the conclusion... y'bastard.

Thinking on all of this, I realized that a lot of the talk I hear concerning relationships is talk that sounds a lot like “what can I get out of this relationship,” or “how does this person make me feel,” or “what can this person do for me?” It was here I realized that this is not what I want. I don't want to just sit around and be an absorbent emotional sponge, accepting whatever treacle the other has to poor into me. This is also the point in which I think I discovered why I often feel as if I don't need a significant other. I often feel sufficient as is because I feel as though all my needs are “met,” which they “are.” I have good friends, loving family, good food, a place to sleep, books to read, a job, things to write, I'm currently learning, and I have some sense of where I'm going to be. At least in the near future. Every once in awhile, however, I get that feeling, like I need someone. In high school I interpreted that as the “I feel unloved” syndrome, which cold hard Logic, with his brother Facts, knocked flat on his back. I now recognize this feeling as the need to love. I feel the need to find someone whom I can love and invest in. The investment should be returned, or you end up with loonies cited way up there in paragraph one.

Years of not knowing and asking why have lead me to this conclusion. I do not need love to be loved, but rather to love.

So, I raise my glass – and raise yours with me – to future love. Cheers.