"Well this is, and Rhoda, no disrespect, but um, this is total shit. Go for it? You can do it? That's not inspirational that's suicidal! If Pickles goes for it right there that's a dead cat. Lies, we're liars! Think about it, why do people buy these things? It's not because they wanna say how they feel; people buy cards cause they can't say how they feel or they're afraid to. We provide the service that lets them off the hook. You know what? I say to hell with it. Let's level with America, at least let them speak for themselves right I mean look, look. What is this, what does this say? "Congratulations on your new baby." How 'bout "congratulations on your new baby, guess that's it for hanging out, nice knowing ya." How bout this one? With all the pretty hearts on the front, I think I know where this ones going. Yup "Happy Valentines Day sweetheart, I love you." Isn't that sweet? Ain't love grand? This is exactly what I'm talking about. What does that even mean, love? Do you know? Do you? Anybody? If somebody gave me this card Mr. Vance, I'd eat it. It's these cards, and the movies and the pop songs, they're to blame for all the lies and the heartache, everything. We're responsible. I'M responsible. I think we do a bad thing here. People should be able to say how they feel, how they really feel, not ya know, some words that some stranger put in their mouth. Words like love, that don't mean anything. Sorry, I'm sorry, I um, I quit. There's enough bullshit in the world without my help."
-500 Days of Summer
A great film, a great conglomeration of beautiful cinematography, intelligent dialogue, quirky indie love story, great acting, good style, and good music.
So why the monologue?
Because it's exactly what I'm pondering right now.
I don't often share what I'm really thinking or feeling, but tonight, I'm in a "fuck it all" kind of mood. Instead of following suit with other people my age in their coping mechanisms, i.e. getting black out drunk, laying around watching TV and eating themselves into Type II diabetes, I'm going with the blogger, "here's my diatribe no one gives a shit about but I wrote it anyway" method. This is very new to me.
When it comes down to my life, I realize I've been blessed and cursed more than any person in the entire world. I have a lot going for me. And a lot against me as well. One of these is that curse we call "love". Romantic love, more specifically.
I believe in love, the kind you have for things, family, friends, and ideas. For example, I love my clarinet, I love my family, I love my best friend Olga, I love Inception, I love late nights talking and bullshitting with friends. I love movies and Jack Daniels and music. Lots of music. I love shopping and story telling and knowing that my friends and family are happy. But romantic love? What is this thing? What is this vain ideal hailed in pop songs and romantic comedies and terrible television and greeting cards? What is this thing knights fought for and people mourn over? Relationships and marriage and dating and rules and bases and flowers and hearts and "happily ever after". What is going on with this nonsense? Most marriages end in divorce. Those that survive seem tense, tiring, and so up and down that any roller coaster with multiple hills and loops appears more like a straight paved road. Teenage break up and hook ups are as routine as changing one's underwear daily, so it appears. People talk of finding the "one" person they will spend the rest of their life with, as though the 6 billion others out there don't even exist. What's this?
If you look at my track record of relationships, I tend to break more hearts than let mine get broken. Or, at least, from any outside observer, especially those of the "Alyssa Scebbi is a giant whore bitch" bias, that's how it looks. But most of the time, something isn't right with them or I get stepped on or one or both parties do something that ruins the balance and soon they end. And the thing is, I always feel terrible after a break up or an ending. Even if I'm the one doing the breaking up, I'm always heartbroken. I feel guilty and faulted and disgusting and wrong. For example, my ex Dave. The gist of us was he got over alcoholism, was a bit distant and self absorbed, and I was a major bit of bitter irrationality that didn't do anything right but sit with him through it all. I broke up with him, we got back together, and then I fell out of love with him and he left me. And then fought to come back but I realized I would only fuck up again. You know, so much of that time he spent telling me he wanted to get married and get me a ring and spend the rest of his life with me. He said I was "the one" he was looking for. Looking back, I'm not sure why. What caused him to think like that? Why would he say that? He would tell me knew almost right away that he loved me. But how? Is it a feeling? Is it a glowing red sign? How do you know? Is it even real? I cannot figure out what caused that. I loved him, and probably will always care about where he goes in life, but I didn't really feel that "this is it for me" thing. I don't understand.
It brings up another point: why do people feel something for someone that doesn't return that feeling? Why do we put ourselves through that? Several times there have been people that I thought were really great for me and they didn't see me as anything or we were just friends. Why does that happen? Why do we obsess and stare and wonder and dream and be infatuated with someone that doesn't have any of that mental illness feeling for us? How does that make sense? Unrequited love is something I can't wrap my head around. What do I stand to gain for feeling something for another person that will not return those feelings? What is the point in falling for someone who, while seeming great for you, doesn't fall for you too? I've had that, several times. What's the point?
Or it's timing. You find someone, they're seeing someone else. Then you move on, they're free. Or maybe the timing is right and you mess up but you want to try again. What is the bizarre vicious cycle mean? Why does it have to be that way? Example: Someone great for me comes into my life, and timing separates us from working out as a couple. When it could work, I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time and make all the wrong moves. When it comes another chance to make it work, the guy in question has moved on and decided I'm not what he's looking for. Even though I don't really understand relationships, I came to point where I would want to try and go for the whole shebang. I would in a heart beat. But, it's an unrequited feeling. So why do I feel it? Why do I pine for it? What is the point?
One of my closest friends is having her heart torn out by a man that would be perfect for her but he's a weak coward. He just cycles through girls and dumps them with any sign of imperfection. He can't handle the rough stuff. She was willing to fight through thick and thin and overcome her own fear of commitment for this guy. She'd even marry him if she could. So why feel so much for someone that just steps on her heart? Or another is left in neutral, open dating while the perfect man is hung up on one detail. Or the many of my friends that are getting married? How do they feel? Or the ones that are indifferent to the whole confusing matter... it's constantly in our faces, how can it be ignored?
But some people get lucky. Some people find someone they connect with and mutually fall in love. Some people have those fairy tale stories. But I guarantee they're not perfect. I guarantee they have unmet and almost unreasonable expectations similar to every love song and story they ever heard/saw. But why? If they have something, why do people look for more or hunt for imperfections to improve just to improve?
Tonight, I did something new. After realizing what a fool I am, I went out to my deck, stood out in the pouring rain and cried. I cried like it was going out of style. I sat there, soaking in tears and rain, wondering why I was out there. I could see the movie scene in my head: the girl realizes her walls needed to come down to be with the right guy, but he had already given up. She tries chasing after him, but he's gone. So she sits outside in the pouring rain, crying, and then he comes up, picks her up off the ground, and kisses her. Cue the swelling violins and happily ever after.
But, there was no one running up my deck steps. There was no background music of swelling strings and soft piano. There was no one there but me sitting in the rain, shivering and sobbing and soaking wet. I couldn't understand why all the movies and songs and cards and expectations had no basis in reality. I thought about Tom Hansen in 500 Days of Summer and his monologue about greeting cards and the made up word of love. I thought of the Dresden Dolls' song "Shores of California". That song is like the recapitulation of my musings.
So what is love, really? I can grasp the idea of loving my work and my hobbies and my family and my friends. But what is this curse they call "love"? What is all the hearts and flowers and words some stranger put in our mouths about? Is it a lie? Is it real? Is it only for the lucky? Is there really only one person out there for each of us, or are there several, or none? Is it just something in our heads? Is love just a mental illness? What's this thing that drives so many people to happiness and tears, smiles and heartache? Is there an answer that isn't a greeting card or shallow? WTF?
"Why all these conflicting specifications
Maybe to prevent overpopulation
All I know is that all around the nation
The girls are crying and the boys are masturbating..."
-The Dresden Dolls, "Shores of California"
