Shame on me for letting you in again. How many times did I come back to you? Why did I think it would be any different this time around?..
You've always been a waste of time. I'm sorry that it's only now that I can finally recognize that.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
A Sucker for Romance: A Self-Psycho-Analyzation
As much as I try to deny it and act unimpressed by random acts of chivalry, I love the idea of being swept off my feet by an affectionate and considerate man. I blame my avid watching of Disney Princess films throughout my childhood for this, as do many other women. But there's certainly a lot more to it than just pop culture..
I grew up around boys. Two younger brothers automatically provided a steady stream of testosterone through my childhood home, not only from my siblings, but from their friends that ran rampant around my backyard. I had girl friends. Lots of them. But there was something more exciting about "hanging with the boys". I'm sure it was a combination of the attention I received from them along with the fact that I really wasn't allowed to be running around the neighborhood with these "rascals", playing shooter games with sticks and climbing up trees to drop water balloons on unsuspecting passersby. But I was also drawn to the "dudes" because I felt like I could relate to them. The first 5 or 6 years of my life were spent travelling and readjusting and most of my time was spent with my brothers alone. Two of them; one of me. Our ratio was off so as much as I pushed them to play dress-up or Barbie Dreamhouse with me, they naturally won the argument and we spent the days doing boy things. I didn't mind it. And I got used to it. And I liked doing the "guy stuff".
I think those first few years of your childhood really shape who you are and stay with you throughout your entire life. I've recently discovered that my personality, particularly when it comes to relationships, has always battled between two sides: realistic, calm, passive vs imaginative, excitable, aggressive. It fairly easy to determine between the sides where the traits came from.
As a woman, I'm naturally more in touch with my emotional side. I dream big dreams and allow myself to be convinced that if there's a will, there's a way. It goes without saying that this is not the most satisfying philosophy to guide your life as most things won't work out. Things change, people change, and you grow, whether you'd planned to or not. I still get excited over the smallest of things and tend to over-analyze everything. I notice myself apologizing for that quality quite a bit, but if I were truly sorry for it, wouldn't I change it? I think so, and while I have made strides to tone-down my active thoughts, I can't say that I've totally eliminated them. So a strong part of me must be proud of my critical thinking. I guess in a way it's a protective mechanism. If I can over-think something to the point that I've determined every possible outcome, then I can't beat myself up about being disappointed when the disappointments come along. I'd mentally prepared for the worst and so I should have been expecting the results. The downside to this is that I sometimes over-think it to death and kill the potential before it's even planted its roots.
I say this as though I've become immune to heartache, which isn't true. I still feel. A lot. Too much usually. That is one part of me that I wouldn't mind getting rid of. That's also a very feminine part of me, a very fragile and sensitive part. But it's also because of this part, I've realized, that I'm able to love so wholly and unselfishly. Not just lovers, but friends and family. It's a blessing and a curse all in one, but it is a strange and rare comfort to know that at the end of the day there is little more I could have done to show someone how much I love them. This is where my aggression comes into play. I very actively and openly feel for the people around me, because if roles were switched I'd want to be that sure of what I mean to someone. But unfortunately, not everyone likes to be so sure. And even more so, not everyone likes to show.
The side I inherited from growing up around boys clings to the realism and passiveness. That nonchalant, "I'll-let-you-make-the-move" attitude that most teenage/young adult males carry with them. Granted, that's a very small part of my personality because Lord knows I'm impatient. But as I've dealt with let-down after let-down, I've learned to be more realistic in what I want and what I expect. It's a tough battle to fight, between realism and the fantasy world, and I often find myself floating a few inches above reality. But as long as I can still see the ground then I can be sure that my fall won't hurt too much. And if it does, then I can't blame anyone besides myself for letting me float so high up.
It's because of my "guy side" that I admit with strong reluctance my fascination with romance. It's a nice thought, in theory. The movies make it into this huge aspect of a relationship and the reason why the girl falls for the boy. But why does romance have to be so outward? Why does it have to be a big production in Grand Central Station with a flash-mob and '80s love ballads and flowers and ballons and doves? Or a wedding proposal in front of the Eiffel Tower just before a huge fireworks show starts ending with a lift-you-off-your-feet kiss? I've never experienced anything of that scale, but to be honest, that would stress me out more than make me swoon. The few romantic events of my life have made me anxious and a little bit queasy. I'm not sure if that's because I was carrying a bit of guilt in realizing I didn't feel as strongly or if my anxiety simply cannot handle such extravagance.. But whatever reason it may be, I've never had much interest in experiencing a huge display of romance. I like my (much) smaller scale ideals of romanticism: of early morning walks on the beach in our pjs and me with no makeup or of ordering Chinese takeout and watching SNL reruns; of quick trips to the grocery store with playful yet serious arguments over spaghetti or bowtie pasta or of simply waking up in the morning to the light touch of finger tips brushing back my hair. I think the little things mean more as far as romance goes.
So maybe the "guy side" of me has dwindled a bit, but it's still there. I think that shows in my simplicity. I'd much rather be the caretaker versus the taken-care-of. It's simple words and simple acts that I notice. Other girls requesting to be whisked away by their "Prince Charming", to be taken on surprise trips to Disneyland, to be sung cheesy love songs on their birthday... I vomit a bit in my mouth. And I stubbornly scoff and roll my eyes at the thought. Mostly because I'm too independent for my own good and think that a life dependent on a man is a very sad and unfulfilling one. Falling for the trend of "true love" and fantasy still feels like a surrender and a sacrifice more than a happy ending and I'll continue to be picky and fickle and doubtful of it all until someone can convince me otherwise.
But coming home to a bouquet of gerber daisies doesn't sound like the worst gesture in the world...
I grew up around boys. Two younger brothers automatically provided a steady stream of testosterone through my childhood home, not only from my siblings, but from their friends that ran rampant around my backyard. I had girl friends. Lots of them. But there was something more exciting about "hanging with the boys". I'm sure it was a combination of the attention I received from them along with the fact that I really wasn't allowed to be running around the neighborhood with these "rascals", playing shooter games with sticks and climbing up trees to drop water balloons on unsuspecting passersby. But I was also drawn to the "dudes" because I felt like I could relate to them. The first 5 or 6 years of my life were spent travelling and readjusting and most of my time was spent with my brothers alone. Two of them; one of me. Our ratio was off so as much as I pushed them to play dress-up or Barbie Dreamhouse with me, they naturally won the argument and we spent the days doing boy things. I didn't mind it. And I got used to it. And I liked doing the "guy stuff".
I think those first few years of your childhood really shape who you are and stay with you throughout your entire life. I've recently discovered that my personality, particularly when it comes to relationships, has always battled between two sides: realistic, calm, passive vs imaginative, excitable, aggressive. It fairly easy to determine between the sides where the traits came from.
As a woman, I'm naturally more in touch with my emotional side. I dream big dreams and allow myself to be convinced that if there's a will, there's a way. It goes without saying that this is not the most satisfying philosophy to guide your life as most things won't work out. Things change, people change, and you grow, whether you'd planned to or not. I still get excited over the smallest of things and tend to over-analyze everything. I notice myself apologizing for that quality quite a bit, but if I were truly sorry for it, wouldn't I change it? I think so, and while I have made strides to tone-down my active thoughts, I can't say that I've totally eliminated them. So a strong part of me must be proud of my critical thinking. I guess in a way it's a protective mechanism. If I can over-think something to the point that I've determined every possible outcome, then I can't beat myself up about being disappointed when the disappointments come along. I'd mentally prepared for the worst and so I should have been expecting the results. The downside to this is that I sometimes over-think it to death and kill the potential before it's even planted its roots.
I say this as though I've become immune to heartache, which isn't true. I still feel. A lot. Too much usually. That is one part of me that I wouldn't mind getting rid of. That's also a very feminine part of me, a very fragile and sensitive part. But it's also because of this part, I've realized, that I'm able to love so wholly and unselfishly. Not just lovers, but friends and family. It's a blessing and a curse all in one, but it is a strange and rare comfort to know that at the end of the day there is little more I could have done to show someone how much I love them. This is where my aggression comes into play. I very actively and openly feel for the people around me, because if roles were switched I'd want to be that sure of what I mean to someone. But unfortunately, not everyone likes to be so sure. And even more so, not everyone likes to show.
The side I inherited from growing up around boys clings to the realism and passiveness. That nonchalant, "I'll-let-you-make-the-move" attitude that most teenage/young adult males carry with them. Granted, that's a very small part of my personality because Lord knows I'm impatient. But as I've dealt with let-down after let-down, I've learned to be more realistic in what I want and what I expect. It's a tough battle to fight, between realism and the fantasy world, and I often find myself floating a few inches above reality. But as long as I can still see the ground then I can be sure that my fall won't hurt too much. And if it does, then I can't blame anyone besides myself for letting me float so high up.
It's because of my "guy side" that I admit with strong reluctance my fascination with romance. It's a nice thought, in theory. The movies make it into this huge aspect of a relationship and the reason why the girl falls for the boy. But why does romance have to be so outward? Why does it have to be a big production in Grand Central Station with a flash-mob and '80s love ballads and flowers and ballons and doves? Or a wedding proposal in front of the Eiffel Tower just before a huge fireworks show starts ending with a lift-you-off-your-feet kiss? I've never experienced anything of that scale, but to be honest, that would stress me out more than make me swoon. The few romantic events of my life have made me anxious and a little bit queasy. I'm not sure if that's because I was carrying a bit of guilt in realizing I didn't feel as strongly or if my anxiety simply cannot handle such extravagance.. But whatever reason it may be, I've never had much interest in experiencing a huge display of romance. I like my (much) smaller scale ideals of romanticism: of early morning walks on the beach in our pjs and me with no makeup or of ordering Chinese takeout and watching SNL reruns; of quick trips to the grocery store with playful yet serious arguments over spaghetti or bowtie pasta or of simply waking up in the morning to the light touch of finger tips brushing back my hair. I think the little things mean more as far as romance goes.
So maybe the "guy side" of me has dwindled a bit, but it's still there. I think that shows in my simplicity. I'd much rather be the caretaker versus the taken-care-of. It's simple words and simple acts that I notice. Other girls requesting to be whisked away by their "Prince Charming", to be taken on surprise trips to Disneyland, to be sung cheesy love songs on their birthday... I vomit a bit in my mouth. And I stubbornly scoff and roll my eyes at the thought. Mostly because I'm too independent for my own good and think that a life dependent on a man is a very sad and unfulfilling one. Falling for the trend of "true love" and fantasy still feels like a surrender and a sacrifice more than a happy ending and I'll continue to be picky and fickle and doubtful of it all until someone can convince me otherwise.
But coming home to a bouquet of gerber daisies doesn't sound like the worst gesture in the world...
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
The More I Think About It...
…the more depressed I get about Harry Potter ending. I know it’s not really ending since we’ll always have the books and the movies to rewatch… and we have Pottermore to look forward to. But it’s just really sad that this is the last film and the last time that I’ll be heading to a midnight premiere. It’s marking the end of an era. And it’s another reminder that my childhood is over. It’s sad.
I remember the anticipation I felt before seeing the first HP film. I’d been a strong follower of the first few books and had high expectations for the films as well. Seconds into the opening scenes of The Sorcerer’s (Philosopher’s) Stone, I recall myself sitting on edge with excitement and immediately falling in love with the actors. I learned their names nearly right away and quickly developed a crush on Daniel Radcliffe. It was actually borderline obsessive with the printed photos I’d posted all over my walls and the “dream scenes” I’d written myself into for a Harry Potter world that included me as a witch. I even made this embarrassing video that I sent to Daniel for his birthday, narrating my life and introducing him to my family while asking all sorts of questions. I was overly ecstatic to receive a Thank You letter from Dan a few months later attached to an autographed photo. I lived Harry Potter. I was convinced, much like many other HP fans, that I would receive my owl to Hogwarts on my eleventh birthday. Even after I’d celebrated my thirteenth birthday I still hadn’t given up hope. And a strong part of me still crosses my fingers for that owl…
I hate to sound like everyone else who is nostalgic for “the ending”, but the Harry Potter Series really did give my generation so much hope. Hogwarts and the magical scenes surrounding became our dream world; where we could escape from our own lives and immerse ourselves in this beautiful fantasy where almost anything could happen. Harry Potter fans have imagined themselves and their roles in the Harry Potter series. We’ve found our houses and our wands.. or more, they’ve found us; we’ve boarded Platform 9 and 3/4 and chatted with friends aboard the Hogwarts Express; we’ve dined in the Great Hall and ventured to Hogsmeade in the snow. We’ve stashed away Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott’s Beans into the pockets of our robes and sipped on warm mugs of Butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks. We’ve felt the love and protection from Hagrid and we’ve cringed at the sight of Snape. We’ve flown on our brooms and cheered on our House in Quidditch. We’ve dealt with death and loss as well as birth and growth. We’ve stood by the Golden Trio and battled Voldemort for nearly thirteen years. Our childhood was better because of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and everyone else in the series. Our childhood was better because of J.K. Rowling.
I know that I can’t dream forever and I know that the stories of Harry Potter must come to a close, but that doesn’t mean it’s really ending. I know that a piece of Harry will live on inside of me, inside all of us… all because we became who we are today by reading these books and watching these films. We grew into our true selves with the aid of JKR and Harry, Ron and Hermione, Daniel, Rupert and Emma. Thanks to Harry Potter we learned courage, self-sacrifice, and strength. We found friendship, love, compassion, devotion, and trust.Thanks to Harry Potter we found a sense of belonging and guidance to happiness.
Thanks to Harry Potter we found real magic.
I remember the anticipation I felt before seeing the first HP film. I’d been a strong follower of the first few books and had high expectations for the films as well. Seconds into the opening scenes of The Sorcerer’s (Philosopher’s) Stone, I recall myself sitting on edge with excitement and immediately falling in love with the actors. I learned their names nearly right away and quickly developed a crush on Daniel Radcliffe. It was actually borderline obsessive with the printed photos I’d posted all over my walls and the “dream scenes” I’d written myself into for a Harry Potter world that included me as a witch. I even made this embarrassing video that I sent to Daniel for his birthday, narrating my life and introducing him to my family while asking all sorts of questions. I was overly ecstatic to receive a Thank You letter from Dan a few months later attached to an autographed photo. I lived Harry Potter. I was convinced, much like many other HP fans, that I would receive my owl to Hogwarts on my eleventh birthday. Even after I’d celebrated my thirteenth birthday I still hadn’t given up hope. And a strong part of me still crosses my fingers for that owl…
I hate to sound like everyone else who is nostalgic for “the ending”, but the Harry Potter Series really did give my generation so much hope. Hogwarts and the magical scenes surrounding became our dream world; where we could escape from our own lives and immerse ourselves in this beautiful fantasy where almost anything could happen. Harry Potter fans have imagined themselves and their roles in the Harry Potter series. We’ve found our houses and our wands.. or more, they’ve found us; we’ve boarded Platform 9 and 3/4 and chatted with friends aboard the Hogwarts Express; we’ve dined in the Great Hall and ventured to Hogsmeade in the snow. We’ve stashed away Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott’s Beans into the pockets of our robes and sipped on warm mugs of Butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks. We’ve felt the love and protection from Hagrid and we’ve cringed at the sight of Snape. We’ve flown on our brooms and cheered on our House in Quidditch. We’ve dealt with death and loss as well as birth and growth. We’ve stood by the Golden Trio and battled Voldemort for nearly thirteen years. Our childhood was better because of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and everyone else in the series. Our childhood was better because of J.K. Rowling.
I know that I can’t dream forever and I know that the stories of Harry Potter must come to a close, but that doesn’t mean it’s really ending. I know that a piece of Harry will live on inside of me, inside all of us… all because we became who we are today by reading these books and watching these films. We grew into our true selves with the aid of JKR and Harry, Ron and Hermione, Daniel, Rupert and Emma. Thanks to Harry Potter we learned courage, self-sacrifice, and strength. We found friendship, love, compassion, devotion, and trust.Thanks to Harry Potter we found a sense of belonging and guidance to happiness.
Thanks to Harry Potter we found real magic.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Not seeing you is making me want you so much more. If that's your plan, it's working.
I'm intoxicated with thoughts of you. It's certainly not normal, but I don't mind one bit. I'm throwing most of what I've got into this right now and I have no idea where you stand. And for now, I'm fine not knowing. I trust you and I know something good will come out of this. I hope you feel that too.
I'm intoxicated with thoughts of you. It's certainly not normal, but I don't mind one bit. I'm throwing most of what I've got into this right now and I have no idea where you stand. And for now, I'm fine not knowing. I trust you and I know something good will come out of this. I hope you feel that too.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Overdue
I was willing. I tried. I tried hard and felt like the only one.
You changed in the time that we were apart. And that's okay for you, but not for me. Not when I was hoping for consistency, for familiarity. I was hoping to depend on you like I used to. I was hoping to find so much comfort in your words. And for some reason, this time around, I just couldn't. But I did try. And now I wonder if I should have waited a bit longer. I know you'll suggest I should have; that it was too fresh, that we both needed time to get back into a swing.
You threw me completely off-guard and I fell fast and hard to the ground. You made comments and did things that I never thought you capable of. You were disrespectful and short tempered and not the open-minded and free-loving person I met almost 2 years ago. That part of you confused me and I crawled back into my cave and the walls shot right back up.
I wanted the romance. Maybe it was a bit too soon, but that's what I needed. I know that part of you is still here. It's who you are and it's the first thing I fell in love with. The hardest part of all of this is knowing that you never put any of that on the forefront. Despite your reasons for holding back, I was expecting more emotion from you.
And now I'm back to where I was before. Except this time, you're ignoring me. I can't say I blame you fully. I'm a hypocrite for wanting consistency and not giving it. So for that, I am sorry. But I wish you could find some patience to set aside for me.
While this has felt like more of an ending than ever before, I'm not done trying. I'm not ready to give up on you.
You changed in the time that we were apart. And that's okay for you, but not for me. Not when I was hoping for consistency, for familiarity. I was hoping to depend on you like I used to. I was hoping to find so much comfort in your words. And for some reason, this time around, I just couldn't. But I did try. And now I wonder if I should have waited a bit longer. I know you'll suggest I should have; that it was too fresh, that we both needed time to get back into a swing.
You threw me completely off-guard and I fell fast and hard to the ground. You made comments and did things that I never thought you capable of. You were disrespectful and short tempered and not the open-minded and free-loving person I met almost 2 years ago. That part of you confused me and I crawled back into my cave and the walls shot right back up.
I wanted the romance. Maybe it was a bit too soon, but that's what I needed. I know that part of you is still here. It's who you are and it's the first thing I fell in love with. The hardest part of all of this is knowing that you never put any of that on the forefront. Despite your reasons for holding back, I was expecting more emotion from you.
And now I'm back to where I was before. Except this time, you're ignoring me. I can't say I blame you fully. I'm a hypocrite for wanting consistency and not giving it. So for that, I am sorry. But I wish you could find some patience to set aside for me.
While this has felt like more of an ending than ever before, I'm not done trying. I'm not ready to give up on you.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
and so it goes...
as the entirely of the world around me crumbles down into messy, convoluted pieces and as the channels in my brain fishtail plait themselves into a mess of mind-numbing fuckery and jibberish, i am excited for this. i can't help but allow myself to hold some hope.
i have so much power at this point. and you can bet your bottom dollar i'm going to stretch it out for as long as i'm able. i deserve this. and you know it. that's what makes this all so much more enjoyable.
but as much lee-way i know i carry, i'm giving this to you. this is in your hands.
prove me wrong, you win.
you always liked games though, didn't you?
i have so much power at this point. and you can bet your bottom dollar i'm going to stretch it out for as long as i'm able. i deserve this. and you know it. that's what makes this all so much more enjoyable.
but as much lee-way i know i carry, i'm giving this to you. this is in your hands.
prove me wrong, you win.
you always liked games though, didn't you?
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