We are who are. That doesn't mean we shouldn't work to better ourselves, but we shouldn't deny who are either. Because in the now is where we live. Where we eat. Where we love. And on a day like today, I wish I wasn't the hopeless romantic that owns the acreage in my soul.
For quite a few years, I've fashioned myself as somewhat of a rake.
It goes along with that whole thing of thinking things into existence mental concept, the "see it and achieve it" positive thinking, bent to less than noble ends. I guess to some degree I've been successful, but since at heart I'm really just a nice guy, I don't think I ever put my all into making the facade a reality.
Why bring this up on Valentine's Day?
Well with all the single people I know, still looking for somebody, the idea that we know what we're doing seems to be less a reality and more one of those air brushed "facts" we like to inhabit to get us through the day, especially at this age. We as a group project the image of we want to be and not who we are. We're all actors, and life is the stage. And we "deserve" the best looking leading man or woman the world has to offer. And so consequently we chose those we hope to share our lives with by what we're supposed to want as opposed to what we actually enjoy. Metaphorically, we cheer for Shakespeare, and pretend we don't get Harold and Kumar . We desire the caviar because we're supposed to, when in reality we really want a chili dog. Oh to be an Oscar Meyer wiener.
In the past I've suggested that for this one day, we play dress up for the one we've chosen and make their dreams come true. That we expend a little bit of effort for someone else, be it in the form of a movie night, a dinner made, dancing, or something more naughty. I would call it Halloween for adults, but if you've seen Halloween lately, adults have already co-opted that. No, we pretend far too much, too often already.
Love whom you really want, the best way you know how. That's all that even the best of us can hope for.But don't confuse love and lust. Far too many of us confuse the momentary fun and thrill of new desire for true love. I can't lie, I love the thrill too. But sadly, that life long affection we we all want won't be a series of forever emotional explosions of joy. It will more than likely be serene, almost comfortable, and punctuated by moments of happiness shared. And the occasionally explosion of joy. Real love is a marathon, not a track meet. Too many of us are sprinters.
Hopefully many of will wise up and find that love that has been waiting for us.
And if not, there's always Harold and Kumar and chili dogs.
Barkeep. Champagne. Oh, that's for everyone else, you know what I'm drinking.
No comments:
Post a Comment