I did something out of character last night, something that I'm a little embarrassed to admit... I watched a chick flick. And not just any chick flick, mind you. I succumbed to my hormonal urges and watched Enchanted--the most current archetype of all that is chick flick. And let me just say while I'm on this train of self-imposed confession, that it was lovely, and made me feel something that I don't usually feel on a daily basis: warm-blooded. Yes, it turns out that I am a normal human being, and am subject to feeling, like so many do out there in this vast world, warm and fuzzy and enamored inside.
For a few good hours I, like Giselle and Robert were probably doing as they danced their little hearts out in the ball scene, basked in the excitement and pure happiness that newly discovered love brings. For a few good hours, I indulged in the thought that if Giselle could find true love, perhaps an insignificant woman as I could bump into it someday too. And these thoughts followed me until I jumped into the shower and got a cold, startling jolt back to reality. There is no such thing as happy fairy tale endings anymore, at least not for me, and unfortunately many good people out there.
I like to observe subjects; maybe you've gathered as much by now from reading my blog heading. In the many situations that I've observed people, couples, I've come to a few conclusions: when that newness of love wears off, people's personalities and blunt or subtle honesties make their appearances; people now-a-days tend to confuse their feelings of "like" for "love"; and sadly, people are very self-absorbed when it comes to their own personal happiness, and as our current national trend shows, they forget about that partner that they've committed their love and life to and abandon them when their marriage--that legally and emotionally binding commitment--has become a burden rather than a convenience to them. These conclusions weren't simply derived from observance of others, they were collected from personal experiences as well.
Maybe you're thinking to yourself, God, she's a cynic. Maybe I am. Rejection and heartbreak, others as much as my own, have encouraged me to be one. I don't hate love, though. I'm simply selfish and don't want to partake of what everyone in this world defines as "love". Is that so wrong of me to say? To actively and willingly exercise? It's been forever since I've felt the rush that enamoredness can bring. And I'll admit, sitting on the couch watching Law & Order reruns on a Friday night does get a little stale after a while. But I just don't want to take the risk of telling someone "I love you" only to have it end a few months or years, or whatever, later. I think that act alone is the most selfish and atrocious offense that can and is exchanged, regularly might I add, between human beings. I just do not want to participate in that trend.
So until my observations lead me to a different conclusion concerning the topic of love I will have to resort to being the quiet cheerleader for those who do fall in love, and are successful in making it last, on TV and movies. Sad, I know, but whatever. Go eat a pie.
P.S.- Here's my, and many other women's, favorite scene from Enchanted. Turn up the volume, hug your pillow and enjoy!
2.14.2008
I Strongly Dislike Valentine's Day
Today, while millions are embracing and kissing and declaring that oft-overused phrase of "I love you", I am mourning and eagerly waiting for Friday to arrive. Like the title so boldly states, I am not a fan of this cheesy, excessively commercialized holiday. In fact, especially today, I think I loathe it. It does not make me happy, and it kind of angers me when I see so many celebrating it.
It's not that I hate what it stands for--love, love, and more love--no, not at all. I am somewhat inexperienced in that area. So how can I miss or hate something that I've never really had (referring to romantic and not platonic love, I mean)?
Valentine's Day does annoy me, I will admit. When I see people who are genuinely happy and willing to express their love for one another, it makes me envious. It makes me think of Sam Baldwin and Annie Reed in Sleepless in Seattle, one of my favorite chick flicks of all time. It gets me thinking of how nice it would be to feel that way for another being, and have that affection and love reciprocated.
And maybe that's why I'm writing this now. My love, the one who selflessly reciprocated and loved me unconditionally despite my many, many shortcomings, is not here to share this ridiculous holiday with me. It's been a year today since he passed away, but the wound still feels fresh. Waking up today I didn't think it would, but as the day has progressed, I am feeling myself trudging and hoping that February 15 comes soon, and that next year's Valentine's Day won't feel so gloomy.
Oscar--my love--was my best friend. Our relationship reminded me very much of the same relationship that Will and Grace had on TV (Oscar being a heterosexual Will, and I being Grace, if you can imagine that). He was there to bless me whenever I sneezed, to make sure I saved his spot for him in bed, and to wake me up with his moist nose and soft, wiry whiskers every morning right around 5:45 a.m.
Oscar, my cat, was, and still is, the love of my life. And today, especially today, I miss him tremendously. He left me too prematurely and everyday, but most especially today, I wish I could hold him in my arms and kiss his furry face once more. I wish I could tell him, express to him, how much I love him and how sorry I am for all of the stupidities and selfish tantrums I put him through when he was here. Most of all, I wish I could've said goodbye. He died at a neighboring animal clinic on Valentine's Day while I was at work. My family didn't have the heart to tell me of his passing until the next day. Since then I have felt the need for closure. But to be honest, I just wish I could still have Oscar around.
I love you Oscar, and I miss you everyday. I am so grateful I got to be your best friend for the three short years I had you, and I hope to see you again someday.
Happy Valentine's Day, Oscar!
It's not that I hate what it stands for--love, love, and more love--no, not at all. I am somewhat inexperienced in that area. So how can I miss or hate something that I've never really had (referring to romantic and not platonic love, I mean)?
Valentine's Day does annoy me, I will admit. When I see people who are genuinely happy and willing to express their love for one another, it makes me envious. It makes me think of Sam Baldwin and Annie Reed in Sleepless in Seattle, one of my favorite chick flicks of all time. It gets me thinking of how nice it would be to feel that way for another being, and have that affection and love reciprocated.
And maybe that's why I'm writing this now. My love, the one who selflessly reciprocated and loved me unconditionally despite my many, many shortcomings, is not here to share this ridiculous holiday with me. It's been a year today since he passed away, but the wound still feels fresh. Waking up today I didn't think it would, but as the day has progressed, I am feeling myself trudging and hoping that February 15 comes soon, and that next year's Valentine's Day won't feel so gloomy.
Oscar--my love--was my best friend. Our relationship reminded me very much of the same relationship that Will and Grace had on TV (Oscar being a heterosexual Will, and I being Grace, if you can imagine that). He was there to bless me whenever I sneezed, to make sure I saved his spot for him in bed, and to wake me up with his moist nose and soft, wiry whiskers every morning right around 5:45 a.m.
Oscar, my cat, was, and still is, the love of my life. And today, especially today, I miss him tremendously. He left me too prematurely and everyday, but most especially today, I wish I could hold him in my arms and kiss his furry face once more. I wish I could tell him, express to him, how much I love him and how sorry I am for all of the stupidities and selfish tantrums I put him through when he was here. Most of all, I wish I could've said goodbye. He died at a neighboring animal clinic on Valentine's Day while I was at work. My family didn't have the heart to tell me of his passing until the next day. Since then I have felt the need for closure. But to be honest, I just wish I could still have Oscar around.
I love you Oscar, and I miss you everyday. I am so grateful I got to be your best friend for the three short years I had you, and I hope to see you again someday.
Happy Valentine's Day, Oscar!
1.19.2008
A Contemplative Sort of Day
After doing some googling online about local Registered Nursing programs (since it was just the other day, after all, that the great notion occurred to me that I could combine my love for psychology and the practicality of nursing to become a Psychiatric RN) I realized that getting accepted into any nursing program in the near future is, and will remain so until my GPA improves anyway, an impossibility. I'll admit, at first arriving at this conclusion disappointed me. I strongly dislike being limited, being told "you can't do this" because of whatever reason.
As I thought about my professional goals more, however, and as I did a little more googling, "research" mind you, I found a break in that scholastic wall that I thought would be impenetrable for me for eons to come. If I choose to stick to my career goals I can still study to become an RN after I've received my B.A. in Psychology. Most schools out here offer nursing programs for students who've already attained a B.A. in whatever. This is assuming, of course, that there are no other options disposable to me, or that I won't be accepted into a local nursing program while I'm working on my B.A. in Psychology.
Whatever the outcome may be in the foreseeable future I am, at the moment, comforted by the possibilities. What was originally perceived to be a dead end on my road to personal success has turned out to be another bump on the road. I'm sure the expedition will be an exciting one, and will be one of many valuable lessons.
As I thought about my professional goals more, however, and as I did a little more googling, "research" mind you, I found a break in that scholastic wall that I thought would be impenetrable for me for eons to come. If I choose to stick to my career goals I can still study to become an RN after I've received my B.A. in Psychology. Most schools out here offer nursing programs for students who've already attained a B.A. in whatever. This is assuming, of course, that there are no other options disposable to me, or that I won't be accepted into a local nursing program while I'm working on my B.A. in Psychology.
Whatever the outcome may be in the foreseeable future I am, at the moment, comforted by the possibilities. What was originally perceived to be a dead end on my road to personal success has turned out to be another bump on the road. I'm sure the expedition will be an exciting one, and will be one of many valuable lessons.
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