Thursday, September 29, 2005

How to make me love you.

Sit in my lap, sniff around, nuzzle my neck, purr softly in my ear, and curl up beside me as if you were a cat, and not a 180 pound grown man.

aerith at 11:45 AM

0 with insubstantial exuberence

Friday, September 23, 2005

Here's hoping that this really is just temporary gas.

I have the heaviest heart right now. I feel like it's falling down into my stomach, literally.

I guess that talk last night stirred things up again. I thought I was over this. I thought I had moved on. Just bringing up old things just, sigh... I really can't take this much longer. I can't take reading this crap, and not having a smoke, and knowing that by smoking I'm being just like her but that doesn't matter because maybe her is what he wants but obviously he doesn't I just like to think that to freak myself out so I can cry and make myself feel better because I don't know of any other way of dealing with my problems besides crying and eating.

...

Hm, gas has passed. I guess I'll be going upstairs now.

aerith at 8:58 PM

0 with insubstantial exuberence

When good forwards bring out the bad... or vice versa.

For the ones who say "I love you" without thinking about the true meaning of love. Here's something to think about.

Are your palms sweaty, is your heart racing, is your voice caught within your chest?
- It isn't love, it's like.

You can't keep your eyes or hands off of her, am I right?
- It isn't love, it's lust.

Are you proud, and eager to show her off?
- It isn't love, it's luck.

Do you want her because you know she's there?
- It isn't love, it's loneliness.

Are you with her because it's what everyone wants?
- It isn't love, it's loyalty.

Are you with her because she kissed you, or held your hand?
- It isn't love, it's low self-esteem.

Do you stay for her confessions of love, because you don't want to hurt her?
- It isn't love, it's pity.

Do you belong to her because the sight of her makes your heart skip a beat?
-It isn't love, it's infatuation.

Do you pardon her faults because you care about her?
- It isn't love, it's friendship.

Do you tell her every day she is the only one you think of?
- It isn't love, it's a lie.

Are you willing to give up all of your favorite things for her sake?
- It isn't love, it's charity.

Does your heart ache and break when she's sad?
- Then it's love.

Do you cry for her pain, even when she's strong?
- Then it's love.

Do her eyes see your true heart, and touch your soul so deeply it hurts?
- Then it's love.

Do you stay because a blinding, incomprehensible mix of pain and relation pulls you close and holds you to her?
-Then it's love.

Do you accept her faults because it's a part of who she is?
- Then it's love.

Are you attracted to others, but stay with her faithfully without regret?
- Then it's love.

The list goes on, but I don't exactly agree with some of it. The person who wrote this forgot that love is very subjective, and what it means to someone may be different for someone else. There are no universal rules and guidelines on love.

I posted this on here because it's interesting and raises a couple of points. Can there be love with infatuation? Can there be infatuation without some kind of love? Is love merely being empathetic to someone's pain? Is it possible to really not be attracted to anyone else either than your lover?

I really have to disagree with some of the points made in this forward. Firstly, I would like to believe it's possible for a man and woman married 20+ years to still feel the occasional skip of a heart beat, or wobbly knees. I want to think that the person you love can stir up the initial feelings of infatuation you first felt for them. Just because you've been together in a solid relationship doesn't mean you can't be horny as a schoolgirl for them.

Second, the forward was a fairly negative perspective of love. All this talk of "feeling their pain", and "crying when they're sad" can be purely human empathy. If I'm watching a movie where a woman is in silent pain over her husband's affair, I'm going to cry. But, not because I'm in love with her. It will be because I am a really sensitive girl that crys on a whim. Now, males are possibly even more empathetic, even if the won't show it on the outside. You can't mistake empathy with love.

Lastly, I think it's possible to not be attracted to anyone else. I'm not saying it's wrong if you are, but I know from personal experience that you can be devoted to one specific person. Example from Malcom in the Middle.

Lois: Are you telling me you've never - in all the years we've been married - you've never so much as looked at another woman?
Hal: Nope.
Lois: But I have... don't you know what this means? This means you love me more than I love you.
Hal: Well, of course I do sweetie. It can't be any other way. If you loved me as much as I love you, we'd never leave the bedroom. Nothing would get done.
...it can happen, right?

aerith at 12:28 PM

0 with insubstantial exuberence

Thursday, September 22, 2005

"...maybe if you stopped over-analysing, you'd be happy."

What the fuck?

Maybe if I lost 30 pounds you'd actually be attracted to me. Maybe if I wasn't so sensitive, I wouldn't cry everytime you made me feel like shit. Maybe if I was a completely different person, this wouldn't matter right now. Maybe if this was some parallel universe - where I would be perfect, of course - I would never be sarcastic or anything. I wouldn't be me. But, Christ, sorry for being myself. You know, the one you're apparently in love with.

~

"You analyse too much."

"No, you just think too little."

aerith at 9:45 PM

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(1) comment from 'Your Mother'

I wish that my family was more like this family.

I wish I had grown up in a household that is more open-minded and supportive of "new" concepts, such as blogging.

My interest in the web has been evident since I was in Grade Seven. I was so eager to learn how to design, and publish my own work. I was amazed by the fact that one no longer need to actually "be published" to be published. I wanted to write, and I wanted to post it on the internet. I wanted to release my creative thoughts onto a blank Photoshop canvas, and I wanted people to acknowledge my work online. I'm was and still am passionate about this.

How do my parents respond? They take away my computer. I haven't had one for five years. I'm sure they thought they were doing the right thing, but I'm pretty sure they were wrong.

If I am trying to learn something that I have just been introduced to, is it proper to punish me when I use it incorrectly? Shouldn't I be educated rather than disciplined?





I find that most blogs which are quite successful and interesting are supported by siblings, and/or spouses. I suppose it helps if you know someone who can guide you through the basics of html and webdesign. I didn't grow up with that kind of knowledge available to me, I had to teach myself.

That's why I want to marry a techie. I want to be with someone that has the same passion as me, so we can nurture each other. I want my kids to know to grow up with pink hair, and tai kwon doe lessons. I want to comment on their blogs, I want them to learn how to express themselves, uncensored.

I want to help them so they can have what I couldn't.

aerith at 11:47 AM

0 with insubstantial exuberence

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

"Motivation's such an aggravation"

School: Never really tried, didn't need to. Right now I need to, but I don't. Somehow I've been getting along very well, above average marks even. I don't have to care.

Piano: I'm lucky if I touch it once a week. And I'd much rather play Alicia Keys than Bartok. The only practice I get is when I actually go to my teacher's house. But I manage to pull it off the 85 at the practical exam. I don't have to care.

Family: They treat me well, even if I treat them like crap. I want to try harder, and sometimes I do, but I don't have to care either way.

Friends: Don't really have any. The ones I do I probably treat like crap, they still hang around a shitty person like me. I don't have to care.

My Job: I really don't deserve to be there. I don't have to do anything. I do less than anything while I'm working. I don't have to care.

I don't spend any of my time thinking about these things. I might spend 10% of the day thinking about them. There is only one thing on my mind that I think about when I'm in class, playing piano, at home, with my friends, at my job. There's just one thing that I care the most about in the entire world, the one thing where apathy is just not an option.

And I fail. Miserably. Horribly. I am the worst person ever when I'm trying my hardest to be good.

aerith at 5:00 PM

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Wednesday, September 14, 2005

My own fairy-tale epiphany

When we started dating, one of the first things I told him was my negative stand on unconditional love.

I believed that of course love is conditional. I thought you couldn't love someone after they've murdered a million people. You couldn't love someone after they've cheated on you. You couldn't possibly still be in love with someone when they've broken your heart into more than two pieces. That's how I felt.

That was how I felt. I couldn't understand those kind of emotions, but now I finally do.

He could kill my hamster. He could torture my family. He could rape and pillage and plunder everywhere. He could step on my heart with golf cleats and pull it out of my ass.

It all wouldn't matter. I would still love him. I will always love him.

Unconditionally.

aerith at 10:38 PM

0 with insubstantial exuberence

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

This is going to be another year of "Questioning everything."

Today was my first class of Introduction to Philosophy. It was paticularily enjoyable, seeing as I zoned out for almost the entire hour.

Anyway. One warning she said awoke me from my reverie. "A possible side-effect of taking this class is: annoying your friends." And that's true. It's already happened to me.

These kinds of classes teach you to change the way you think. They encourage you to think (obviously) more philosophically. And THAT is how you piss off people.

"I love you."

"Do you love me, or do you want to think you love me? How are you sure this love exists? And what nature is this love? The love of a brother, or the mutual respect of a collegue? What does love mean to you? What if your kind of 'love' is trivial and means nothing? Do you mean nothing? Can nothing exist? Do I exist? Oh god- *explode.*"

After acknowledging my own tendencies to doubt everything, I began to doubt that I was doubting everything. I needed help from someone who will be honest with me, even if it hurts.

Enter Matt. I asked him a series of questions over a ten-minute period. "Do you think I'm sceptical? Do you think I over-analyze? Do you think I’m obsessive compulsive?” He completely flipped out on me.  He said I ask questions too much. Sigh.

But I got more upset than I expected I would. I mean, I KNEW I was skeptical, I just wanted him to confirm it. For some reason, I was still surprised when he agreed with me. It really hurt, because all these things are not the type of person I want to be (I think.)

I’m apparently cynical, sarcastic, skeptical, obsessive-compulsive, paranoid, borderline, anti-social, schizoid, and selfish. But I know I am. I think about it all the time, I just can’t imagining myself acting any other way. I know how I am, but I’m just trying to do what I think is best, and I go day to day with that attitude.

I get myself down about this a lot, so when someone else brings it, they are confirming my worst insecurities. They’re telling me things about myself that I already know and hate, and they don’t stop. So, when Matt says “All you ever fucking do is argue semantics”, I die a little inside.

It’s because the criticism that hurts the most are the ones that echo my own self-condemnation.

aerith at 11:03 PM

0 with insubstantial exuberence

Monday, September 12, 2005

I know I should probably stop reading her blog, but I only do it a little.

And she still gets to me. I don't even know why.

OK, I'm lying. Of COURSE I know.

It's not like I didn't feel ugly BEFORE the blonde/red/stupid haired vixen trotted on to the scene. I mean, I know what I am and I know what I'm not. I know my face is not that great, but I really didn't need that fact rubbed in my... face, yeah. Matt is an attractive guy and I always knew he deserved an equally attractive girl. I feel so ugly around him, and when I feel that I think about her. That gets to me.

I guess she also bothers me because she's hot and charismatic and spontaneous and crazy like Matt likes and has tattoos in probably sexy places and has pouty lips and nice teeth and bone structure and personality and is loved by all and writes better than me and is better than me and knows it. (Did I mention she's hot?)

I just can't stop reading about her, I can't stop absorbing her words into my mind. I pretty much remember everything about her. And I dwell on it, and it hurts. I felt - no... - I feel so inferior. On the other hand, that girl is whack. At least she's gone, right? I tell people she moved away and they respond, "Oh, that's great!" "Nooooooo, it's the worst thing that's ever happened." "WHAT!?!?!!?" Most people understand why I wish she hadn't moved. I explain it like this:

If she was here, Matt could feel tempted. But, he wouldn't do anything because
he loves me.

HOWEVER

Because she isn't here, Matt won't feel tempted, and can't
do anything.

Yes, I know I'm crazy, but in my fucked up mind, this bothers me. I'm plagued with "What would happen if she was still here?" or "Maybe she really just "moved away" and is secretly carrying on with my man." But then again, I am paranoid. And envious. And bitter. And hurt. But, I know I will get over this. I've come along way.

I think she'd be prettier if she could stop talking about how pretty she is. I should stop reading.

aerith at 10:55 PM

0 with insubstantial exuberence

If I was never bored, nothing would get done.

I love boredom. I look forward to it. When I go about my day, I anticipate the moment when I can truely say, “I’m bored.”

Because it’s in that moment that I realize there are things I should be doing, or should have done. In that sense, boredom is the initiator of my actions.

aerith at 10:23 PM

0 with insubstantial exuberence

Sunday, September 11, 2005

As you can see, this is how I prepare myself for my first day of university.

I create a blog, on my dear old friend, Blogger.

My last Blogger account was deleted when my mother found it. Apparently, me writing things such as "I hate school." and "I hate the people at school." scared her to death.

Well, I didn't want to upset her, so I deleted the thing.

The following year I went on Livejournal. Same story. She found the journal, yada yada yada, she doesn't like it. However, I stood my ground.

I've mostly given up on Livejournal. I hate the layouts, I hate the interface, I hate the stupid teenage emos who blog their stupid emo lyrics, and the stupid people that pretend to care and think I'm writing for their benefit. I'm out of there. I'm putting an egg in my shoe and beating it.

I'm back again, Blogger. How long do you think I will stick around?

Long enough until somebody finds me again...



aerith at 11:28 PM

0 with insubstantial exuberence