just wait … you’ll change your mind
February 28, 2008
because i’m not particularly interested in being married or having children, i’ve often been told, “just wait. you’ll change your mind.” maybe. but why? just because you have these things?
if i wanted to get my tubes tied at 27, sure i might be shooting myself in the foot. i can give you that. but at what age will i be outside the finger wagging, “better not do that” onslaught? i mean, why can’t i (aside from realities like it being surgery and costing lots of money)?
it’s not especially frustrating to me. i think it’s funny, actually. an ex-boyfriend’s brother used to always make passing comments to us, “wait til you have kids!” or “wait til your wedding day! you’ll see!” i would just smile and respond with the dreaded fake laugh.
do these people feel absolutely compelled to force upon me their “wisdom” acquired because of their major decisions? like, do i actually say to people in college, “just WAIT til you have to pay taxes after doing freelance work! whoo boy you are gonna be FUCKED! i mean, I WAS!!!”
i hope not.
when it comes to the big — and little — things in life, i like to think i actively seek advice and mentorship from people i know and trust. but when it comes to marriage and kids, i never (absolute) ask for opinions. but i seem to ALWAYS find myself hearing, “just wait.” in other words, people try to push their own experiences onto me as if i’m ignorant of what’s to come — as if i have no say and no choice in the matter.
yes, at 27 i have no idea what i’ll want in five years. shocker. but why do you assume in five years i’ll definitely want what you have? maybe i want to forego wedding stress and changing diapers to instead live in the south of france, sitting in a linen shirt and undies (what? i hate pants.) with coffee beside me, feet up on the balcony railing of my modest penthouse apartment, overlooking the rue de anglais and mediterranean, and writing the next twenty-something’s bible on my macbook air i somehow was able to afford.
i’m happy people have what they want. it’s not what i’d want, but i’m not judging you for it. so why judge me?
put yourself in my shoes
February 22, 2008
i’m always super weary of the people who apologize by saying, “i’m sorry you felt that way.” as if it’s my fault i felt that way. (sometimes, admittedly, i’m hormonal or over-reacting. but, there’s probably some truth on a deep level that i’ll gloss over (and that will eventually manifest itself) if i just take an apology and try moving along without addressing that core feeling.)
i’m not afraid of confrontation, and i’m not afraid to admit when i feel slighted. but i am admittedly afraid of being hurt by someone who is unable to recognize their role — or, at least, how their actions can be construed — and is clearly incapable of empathy.
i mean, there has to be understanding to have healthy communication. both sides have to feel a level of enlightenment; that they learned something about themselves or the other person. that it’s not just about winning.
empathy is critical. i’ve actively moved away from one good friend because of this missing component — without it, i found i was constantly skeptical and judgmental. i wasn’t sure if she was sincere. i felt exhausted after being around her. she was heavy. and anytime i questioned her, the defensiveness was overwhelming. EVERY time, the argument was turned around on me. somehow, i was always the one at fault. it never failed.
one day, during a typical defensive tirade, i had the stereotypical epiphone. BLAMMO it hit me. i said, “i know you didn’t mean it. but, can you sympathize with the way you made me feel?” at least she was honest, saying, “no. i mean, you know i didn’t mean it, so you shouldn’t feel hurt.”
so here’s the point: intent and emotion are different beasts. because i wasn’t affording her the luxury of trust, i didn’t really know she didn’t mean to hurt me. and because i always doubted her sincerity, her stated (or real, perhaps) intention didn’t matter — i just didn’t trust her, so i couldn’t fully put myself in her shoes. i didn’t want to. and, honestly, she didn’t afford me trust either, so she was constantly offended by me, too.
it’s not enough to keep people around just because they’ve always been around. the obligatory friendship or relationship is not strong. in fact, it’s rather cancerous. or so i’ve learned. sure, we used to be close, but now we’re not. and that’s ok. better to just recognize that and move on then try to return to some past existence where we’d get drunk and pick up dudes together; or try to push the other person to my definition of enlightenment without her willingness.
i’ll have lots of disagreements in my life. i try earnestly now to put myself in the other person’s shoes; to pause and reflect about how my actions (regardless of intent) affected someone else. if s/he can do the same for me, i’ll keep learning and growing. but the trust and willingness to grow has to be there. when it’s not, it all comes down to a coin toss.
heads or tails?
i don’t know. i don’t know.
February 21, 2008
so being that i’m not obsessed with jim sturgess (yes! that’s jimsturgess.org! i call president of his fan club!), and that i downloaded the across the universe soundtrack this afternoon, i decided to listen to what i thought was among the top two most memorable songs from the movie. something, by the beatles of course. yes, something. (the other song was hey jude, but mr. sturgess didn’t sing it. boo.)
i hadn’t ever really listened to the lyrics before. i think that goes for most of the beatles’ tunes. i liked sgt. pepper’s lonely hearts club band and knew those words. but who didn’t? i mean, for the most part, the beatles’ just joined the doors, bob dylan, and, later, gordon lightfoot as “music that my parents listen to.”
anyway, something is a saucy tune. it’s so writhe with young love and confidence and carefree-ness that i never realized before. now, i want it to be my anthem. at least for tonight, while i’m still being melodramatic about it.
imagine. i wonder what it was like being at least one of the women who inspired such lyrics, knowing your crazy popular singer boyfriend who was part of a practically global revolution thanks to his inspirational music (and who had absolutely no problem scoring with others) at some point thought, “dude, i’m a beatle, and i pretty much don’t need anything, but somehow this chick knows i need her.”
that’s serious feminism. and that’s so hot.
but, at the same time, he reveals that she’s totally vulnerable. that she wants to throw herself ass over head into his love, but needs reassuring at the same time … asking him, “will your love grow?” to which he responds, of course, “i don’t know. if you stick around, it may show … i don’t know.”
that’s so wrenching.
a dude on the jazz channel the other day said that falling in love is easy; life is hard. and the lyrics of this song basically take that saying, give it to paul mccartney, then deliver it in a way that all who hear pull on the emotion like a blanket in bed. because even when life and love seem at odds, he keeps coming back for more. the way she moves, how she knows him — he can’t explain it, but whenever he thinks of her, there’s just something about her.
that’s so romantic.
a kiss is not a contract, but it’s very nice.*
January 31, 2008
urban dictionary told me a new word the other day: choreplay. this apparently is when women get turned on because their men are doing things around the house, like taking out the recycling, which is not foreplay but is still very important.
yes, there is so much that goes into making for good sexual chemistry. maybe chores is among them. but i contend that kissing is at the core. often overlooked for the bigger payoffs, but absolutely essential nonetheless. in fact, i postulate that you can tell everything about the potential of a lover based on how s/he kisses. (e.g. a passive kisser is a passive lover).
i think kissing is marvelous. i love doing it. i kiss everyone, to varying degrees of course. it’s fun, it makes me feel warm, and it’s ridiculously endearing. it can connect people like hugs (except for the “A” hug, where you both push your butts out and make no pelvis contact, which is appropriate for forcing platonic relationships or with grandparents. but still.) an unbelievable kiss can change your whole perspective. even if you’re not a part of it.
for example, josh kisses chicks on camera. when we were together, i got comfortable with it initially by pausing, rewinding, and watching again in curious agony. but, then, at one point, i thought, “dang, he looks like a good kisser.” i could appreciate the art of it! in fact, i bet the actresses he kissed (or will kiss) — even though they’re in character and reportedly not at all invested in the emotion of the kiss because it’s allegedly fabricated anyway — thought, “nice.” (then proceeded to email him off-set opening their homes in los angeles to him.)
i can be completely moved to adore an actor i see onscreen if he looks like a fantastic kisser. it’s so hot! like jake gyllenhaal, who looks uncannily similar to this douchebag i knew from high school — i can look past that resemblance during his kissing scenes because seriously that dude must be amazing to make out with. other top performers include leo dicaprio and brad pitt. maybe being ridiculously hot makes you automatically a hot kisser. but probably not, because losers include zach braff (who i find attractive, but who is clearly a passive kisser, which is sad because his lips are terribly full so you think he’d make more assertive use of them. maybe he should take me on as his coach.) and elijah wood (again very sadly).
i pay attention to the basics. they’re the blocks from which all other things are built, no?
* (oh jemaine, i would like to kiss you.)
