Single Ladies, or: Why I Don't Hate Valentine's Day

http://www.desicomments.com/dc1/11/154971/154971.jpg

I can always tell when it's that time of year again: the shops get full of things pink and red and white, Victoria's Secret bombards me with ads like nobody's business, and I get the impulsive urge to read Jane Eyre.

Yeah, you read that last part right. I've accidentally started a routine where I feel the sudden urge to read my favorite novel around February 14th. I did it last year, I think I did it the year before, and I'm reading it now. It was kind of by chance. But it's a tradition I rather like having started.

As the sort of girl whose most exciting Valentine's Day has comprise of getting the stomach flu from my dentist my junior year and watching my friend [uber gay] get pissed off at us all for sending him singing valentines my senior year, I like treating this day kind of simply. This year, I'm staying home, drinking wine, and watching a movie with [Львица]. I like this trend, just staying in and treating myself ("treat yo self!" as Tom Haverford says on Parks and Recreation).

God, I love this show...

Anyway, as I was saying, I kind of like this staying in thing. I mean, as long as I'm single, I'm not going to sit around and mope and be all like "This is Single's Awareness Day!" and wear black like I did in high school. Because that only made me feel feel small, stupid and unimportant; while I may be unimportant, I am not these other things. So I am gonna have a good day, dammit! I love myself and I'm gonna show it.

And, because I am a deep, deep, crazy romantic (not Romantic, like Baudelaire - I've been reading him and that dude has issues with the ladies. But that's a topic for another post), I believe in Valentine's Day. I don't believe you should buy a bunch of stuff for people you care just to show them you care. Because that seems phoney. It shouldn't be about the buying of stuff; it's about the love. It isn't about money or lingerie or candy or jewelry; it isn't about loving more just because it's a special day of the year. It's about taking aside one day, one special day to celebrate that love you have everyday and linger over it a bit more. About being thoughtful - not necessarily consumerist - and getting something for the one you care about. That doesn't mean buying stuff - it could mean making dinner. It could mean just calling someone up and talking to them. It's not about the stuff; it's about doing what you feel to express your love. However, I still think giving someone a rose is one of the most goddamn romantic things in the world. Just so you all know ;)

I'm also not one of those people who feels threatened by happy romantic couples. Okay, so yes, there is a lingering seed of jealousy and a bit of angst, but overall, I'm happy for them. Just because I'm single doesn't mean I'm pissed off at all the people that aren't. Because that doesn't seem to make a whole lot of sense. And because, one day, that could be me. And if it's not, well, I'm buying myself roses. TREAT YO SELF!

To Myself, In the Future

Hello Future Me,

I certainly hope that, wherever you are in space in time, that it is not in a little apartment infested by centipedes and mice. Or some place worse. I have decided to write this little post because I feel suddenly struck by a fear of making mistakes that are not worth making - not the good sort. And I would like to try to provide you with a source of some perhaps helpful advice in lieu of the insanity that certainly lies ahead.

First off, I have no idea what you will be doing in general. Hopefully it will not involve being a hobo. Regardless, whatever it is, do it with passion. Don't give in to doing something safe just because you know you can do it. TRY NEW THINGS. The worse that can happen is that you will fail, and we both are plenty familiar with that.

I will never be this cool. But goddamn, I can try.

Of course, I'm going to bring up relationships. If you remember, I'm on the edge between being a full-blown romantic and a nihilistic hermit. So, I'm hoping things are a little more steady on your end. If you're queen of the Ryan Gosling Swagger (à la Crazy Stupid Love), kudos. If things suck, keep a stiff upper lip. Remember what it was like to not understand love, to not even have any experience with it. To wonder why you saw so few relationships work out, why everything seems so simple, until you become part of one. I know I sound down about it all but I'm just showing - you knew more than you thought you did. Don't sweat it; it'll work out. I believe it will.

If by some strike of fate you find yourself in a long-term relationship, don't take it for granted. Just don't. And if by some terrible, incredible miracle you have children, remember not to be too hard on them when they act up. Growing up is tough - it might seem long ago, but I remember it pretty well. It's brilliant and brutal. And whatever your kids do, you probably did once too. Don't blame them too much for their mistakes, economic troubles, mistakes you made. They'll listen... maybe too well.

Wherever you're living, I hope it feels like home. I know when you were younger, you likened yourself to a turtle - adaptable, movable, able to fit in anywhere. Know that I'm glad you had that adaptability but that you shouldn't be afraid to put down roots. No one belongs here more than you.

Fresh off a 21st birthday, I had some crummy feelings in the days shortly before. It got me worried, it got me thinking. I hope you're strong and confident - I hope that I'm establishing that now. I hope you still have a warm fuzzy feeling for sci-fi shows and Broadway plays, and a penchant for shortbread, Earl Grey tea and Nutella. But most of all, I hope you look back at all of this and don't regret a thing.

Me of Many Moonstruck Meanderings

I saw this in one of my psych books and love it for unknown reasons.

So I realize that in my long word vomit about my friends' relationship experiences, I failed to talk about any of my own. And if I'm going to tell all about my friends, it's only fair that I do the same for myself. Of course, there's really not much to discuss. But then again, maybe there's more there than I think. So, being a creepy psych major, I'm going to talk it through and come to... some sort of consensus. All for the benefit of those publicly judging me.

I guess I could start at the beginning, in preschool, when I'm pretty sure I had a crush on a kid named Jordan (one easy way to tell if I have a crush - I talk about the person A LOT). But then he tattled on me for playing with clay during storytime and, though our teacher said it was fine, it was like he knew my real intentions (I had it because I wanted to take it home with me because I didn't have any clay at home. But then I left it under a dining room chair and it got all dry and useless. One of the only two times I've stolen in my entire life - and both times were an epic fail. But I digress...) Anyway, I never really forgave Jordan for his betrayal. Not the most positive start, eh?

I had a crush [quick disclaimer - I wouldn't really regard these as crushes because I didn't recognize them as such until much later. In fact, I don't think I ever recognized I really liked a guy in a romantic-sort of way until high school. It seems the late bloomer thing is a common theme with me] on a kid named Michael in 3rd or 4th grade until I moved. And then there was an awkward incident with a boy named William. Girls seemed to know more about him than I did, but I once heard a rumor that in second grade he forced a kiss upon one of my friends (but I never asked her about it because I felt like it was inappropriate. And because I'm awkward enough regarding small talk). One rainy day, we were stuck inside for indoor recess and playing some game that William wasn't happy with. He wanted me to play something else, but I didn't want to. So he tried to coerce me through pleading and inching his hand up my leg. I was wearing a skort or a skirt or something and so part of my thigh was exposed. Once his hand got there I was totally freaking out and I had no idea what to do. I didn't know what he was doing, I don't know if he knew what he was doing, and it was definitely not making me any more willing to play with him. He finally stopped touching my leg (probably when it looked like I was going to start crying) and left me alone and I was relieved. I however was terrified of him for the rest of my time at that school.

That probably sounds like the perfect place for someone like Doctor Phil to be like, "See, that traumatized you and scarred you and changed you." I don't know if it did. Honestly, I've never told anyone about that before. Maybe it did. It never really troubled me - well, it troubled me, but I never really thought about it as possibly, you know, important to my psyche until I started studying psychology. It's probably not. It's probably just an awkward, uncomfortable growing up experience. Did it have much of an impact? Who the hell knows...

Then the move to Minnesota. Despite like half of my friends and my grandmother's belief, I never had a crush on [uber gay]. I just didn't. He annoyed me at first, actually. I did have a crush on a guy named Ethan, who moved to California and I never saw him again. He deserves more than this simple sentence, but I was twelve, so... not really much to say.

AND he's a Celtic fan? Goddammit... (from people.com)

And then in junior high I met [Broadway baby] and became really good friends with him. He was the closest guy friend, other than [uber gay] and maybe Michael, that I'd ever had. And then in high school, for our first homecoming dance, he gave me an corsage, an "extra one" that he said he'd had, even though my parents were convinced he bought it on purpose. It was the only time a guy has ever bought me flowers. I realized that I might just have a crush on [Broadway baby] in sophomore year. The same year he came out. Alas.

Somewhere between 8th grade and freshman year of high school I had my first star crush, on a Scot no less. Thank you, Gerard Butler, for making the Phantom of the Opera ridiculously sexy. You were supposed to have a scarred appearance,  you were supposed to a crazy murderer. And yet you were still hot.

Then there were the awkward high school years, which I'd rather not talk about but probably don't have a choice (actually, I do, but this is my blog. And I have this whole honesty bit going on...) I had some weird celebrity crushes (Jason Issacs, Hugo Weaving, Heath Ledger only after I'd seen him in The Dark Knight), some random comedy infatuations (looking at you, Stephen Colbert and Craig Ferguson) and other various actor obsessions (Hugh Jackman, Colin Firth, Paul Bettany). And then I saw Ewan McGregor in Moulin Rouge and my life was forever changed. Or ruined. I'm not sure, exactly.

Also amongst high school were weird awkward feelings of I-don't-know-what for a teacher or two. It was probably more intense admiration but I didn't know how to process it and thus stupidly told [X] and [novel killer] about one of them at the end of high school and thus became known for having a thing for authority figures. It was not an encouraging step towards actually talking about my feelings.

But wait, I'm forgetting something... there was that week at a summer music clinic at the University of Wisconsin, where one of my instructors was an opera grad student in music, specifically opera. He was gay, I'm pretty sure, but I couldn't help getting a tiny crush on a guy who can tell you the plot of Tosca in modern, exciting terms and then sings fantastic tenor solos at the class's urging. Between this and McGregor, I think I have a thing for vocalists.

And I'm totally forgetting a whole thing with [hahahaha SHUT UP] which I've never really spoken about. That deserves discussion... but probably not here. Because it would take far too much discussion and explanation.

Then college. Star crushes on Michael Fassbender and Christoph Waltz in Inglourious Basterd. And on James McAvoy after Becoming Jane. And obviously John Barrowman... because of reasons.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Because last year I fell hard for one of my instructors, [tedesco]. I was pretty much in love with him. As much as you can be with someone you don't know super well, someone who's older than you and will never reciprocate what you think you feel. I say think because it's actually hard for me to recognize that I felt that way about him now. [X] had an nice little explanation for this when I talked to her about it, after I'd fallen for [No-Mr-Darcy] which you can experience here. I think I was just happy to find someone to talk to in a new major, who was cute and funny and not afraid to say what he was thinking, even if it was awkward and I disagreed. I think it was just nice to meet a guy who actually liked deep, intellectual conversations.

And just as the school year ended and I was trying to work through my feelings regarding [tedesco], I met [No-Mr-Darcy]. It was honestly the first time I had a crush on someone who was my age since [Broadway baby]. It was the first time I actually felt NOT scared to tell someone how I felt, given the right time (though that never came). But I don't have to tell you all about that. You can read it all here. And here. And pretty much anything in August or September.

So that's that. There you go. We could do this by terms of firsts, but I don't know if that's a good way to approach my life. As my first serious crush that wasn't on celebrity wasn't really until... senior year of high school. And my first date was a non-date with [No-Mr-Darcy] that ended with a hand shake. And my "first kiss" was an awkward cheek peck from [hahahaha SHUT UP]. And that William and the random neck licker from Friday Night Paint Fight and [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying]'s backrub are the most intimate any man has ever been with me (and two out of the three were totally unwanted... and the back rub was grudgingly accepted. Actually, [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying] might actually have a bit of finess for back massage on awkward trips from an apartment to the Saloon while his friend [save the panzer] is currently trying not to turn around and strangle him. But I digress). And then there was the forced cuddling from [one-complicated-lesbian] who was distraught to find that I had never cuddled with anyone before, even with a friend, and then forced me to experience it in a bunk in our Fort William hostel. God, that sounds bad. It was nonsexual, but still totally awkward. (How do I get myself into these situations? Really?)

See what I mean? It sounds really bad - like the plot to some comedy-drama.  It sounds even worse when you've had a bad day and the weather sucks and you can't sleep and you're home all alone and you feel crappy and you think you're going to be alone forever. Which is an assumption. And a stupid assumption. So fuck that. Seriously. Yes, I have a zero relationship experience. Yes, I am a total romantic who has no notion of what modern dating actually consists of. But something will work out. There are 7 BILLION PEOPLE on this planet. 7 BILLION. Somewhere out there, there has to be someone else who's not a royal jerk, who isn't socially awkward, who isn't trying so hard to prove his manliness or show how smart he is or just get in some girl's pants. Who's just comfortable being who he is. Am I really that naive to think that not all my romantic notions are false? But really, I'm not asking for this:

http://www.doodlekisses.com/forum/topics/things-to-do-if-the-lights-go-out-during-the-hurricane?page=9&commentId=2065244%3AComment%3A2673482&x=1#2065244Comment2673482

I don't want that. That freaks me out. And it just seems... false. I'm just asking for this:

This has been another romantic musing by the Vulture. I beg your indulgence.

Side comment: I just remembered another star obsession I had: Rupert Everett. Ah, yes... Thanks to him I now a fan of Oscar Wilde. For the win.

Love and Other Laments

Life is weird.

Just the other day, I had this dream that [X] was going to propose to her boyfriend. And what do I see on Monday when I log on to Facebook between classes? That she's broken up with him.

I have to admit, I was surprised. I mean, she went back and forth in her words about their relationship, but it seemed like she was planning on the long haul (but honestly, who doesn't?) Just over the summer she was talking about grad school in Milwaukee to be near him.

And yet another relationship ends. He was her first boyfriend, after all, but still... it didn't even last a year. The only two people I know well who aren't single are [shortage of perfect breasts] and [action is eloquence] - a friend I made in the early years of high school who is getting married(!!!).  And, according to [X], [shortage of perfect breasts] is still with her boyfriend only because she's settled for her current boyfriend because she doesn't think she can do better.

Other than [action is eloquence], not much of this is very encouraging for one who has yet to enter the realm of dating. The whole endeavor begins to look rather futile and impossible. Also, everyone has chosen this week to complain about how alone they are in the world and say that love doesn't really exist. But I refuse to believe that.

I will not give into the cynical. I will stand my ground. I believe in romance. Despite all odds.

Cue the triumphant trumpet fanfare! Release the doves and sprinkle glitter everywhere! I know this may sound hokey. I know this may sound repetitive. But I need to remind myself of this stuff and not get all hopeless and give up.

You see, I've rarely seen people make love a priority in the life.  No where outside a romance novel, at least. And in romance novels, it borders on absurd, because nothing else matters - hell, the plot doesn't even matter except for the relationship between the two main characters. But that's not what I mean here. What I mean, is, it's rare that I've seen love regarded seriously in my age group - being more important than school, more important than work, more important than the trials of everyday life, for just a minute in their days. Maybe I've spent too much time around [X] - she once told me that love made her feel bad, weak, out of control. Of course, that was reciprocated love (which I too have felt... and yeah, that's actually true). As for mutual love - well, I can't speak for that, but I certainly hope her opinion is different now. When I talked about crushes (in high school, that is - I wasn't as close to [Львица] as I am now) I always felt like people (meaning [X] and [novel killer]) thought I was just being silly and never seemed to treat my crushes with same importance they treated theirs. Even with [No-Mr-Darcy] I felt a somewhat lack of sincerity. Perhaps it's because I've had a lot of star crushes (Heath Ledger, Paul Bettany, Ewan McGregor, John Barrowman, you get the idea...) that they just don't take me seriously. Have I had an unusual amount of star crushes? I don't know... but I digress. Again.

Originally over Thanksgiving Break, [X] invited me to go along with her to interview [action is eloquence] about her work as a photographer for some class that [X] is in. I was kind of excited about it - I mean, I have my issues with [X] but we can have really good heart to hearts and I was hoping to  maybe talk honestly about what happened this summer (and once and for all put the cap on this whole jar of [No-Mr-Darcy] business. God does that feel like a light year ago...). But then I didn't hear anything from her and I saw the thing about the break-up on Facebook and I told her via comment on the relationship status (wow, how personal of me) that I was hear for her if she wanted to talk.

Nothing. Not a word. Her ex has been babbling away on Facebook like nothing happened. And she hasn't been online at all. I wonder if he broke up with her... He is living with his ex-girlfriend. Yikes.

Okay, okay, gossipy speculation not important. What is important is that not all things are bleak. Though there is a somewhat dim history of relationships with my high school friends: [foxy lady] dated a douchebag for way too long, and [shortage of perfect breasts] has "settled" for a guy who won't accept my friend request on Facebook (what did I do to you?! We've met like four times and we had a conversation about Torchwood and Doctor Who! Okay, so it was more like you said something, [shortage of perfect breasts] said something, I said something, [shortage of perfect breasts] said something, you said something, etc but STILL. Why?!)  [tiny dancer] has had her fair share of hardships with boys (somewhat thanks to [shortage of perfect breasts]? 'Tis a rumor. And another story) and [uber gay] has dated more men than the rest of us combined and seemed to have gotten pretty badly upset by his boyfriend breaking up with him (a first - usually he does the breaking off).  [mind ninja] has had problems, as has [the artist] who loved a man who can never be hers. And [it's a twin thing] - well, neither of them have shown much interest in dating. And then [novel killer] likes to complain about her ex-boyfriend from high school and dreams of the Spaniard from London but also makes out with [musical queen] in her spare time (which is described by [musical queen] like Santana and Britney from Glee. OK...) (By the way, I will be shot for having this knowledge. Just an FYI). And of course, [musical queen] has her own dating issues too. And [wolf woman]  - who knows. I don't really know her any more, honestly. And of course [Львица] has had major ups and downs. And then that brings in [The Question]. And... and... and...

You get the picture.

Of course, that's NOT to say everyone around me has only had totally depressing relationships. [shortage of perfect breasts] seems happy. [Львица] and [The Question] have taught me more about relationships without their knowing it than I ever thought I could learn without actually being in one (so... weirdly enough, thanks guys). All of these guys and gals above have thousands of opportunities before them. They are all great, wonderful people. There is absolutely no reason why they shouldn't find somebody out there in this wide, wide world.

It's so easy to see how wonderful everyone else is, but when I think about myself, I can't say I easily think those things about myself. I see how other people act in relationships and I wonder how that could ever be possible for me. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't just be easier to be like my friend [amante della musica] who just seems to have a really close gay guy friend, like Will and Grace, than trying to understand the modern dating world, which totally baffles me (maybe I should have been reading Cosmo in my teen years instead of Jane Austin, to at least help me understand what's going on, instead of the sort of culture shock I seem to find myself in).

This whole conversation, however, leads me utterly off topic. Let's save this for another time, shall we?

The good news is, I'm officially playing flute at a wedding - at [action is eloquence]'s. She's the first of my high school friends to get married, and though it seems a little strange (she's only a year older than me! Marriage - ahhhh!) for her it seems right. She acts far older than her young age and she and her fiance have been together for several years. Also, she just seems... ready. Unlike my cousin who just seemed to do it for paternal obligations. [action is eloquence] is doing it because she really loves her boyfriend.

You feel that warm, flickering feeling like a tea light candle? That's called hope.

Polly Oliver

The other night in campus band rehearsal, our very adorable student teacher told us about the background of one of the pieces we're playing - "Polly Oliver." It's based off an English folk song, about a girl who disguises herself as a man and joins the military. However, while serving, a captain - her love, is injured and she nurses him back to health. The doctor remarks, "You have cherished him as if you were his wife." And our student teacher read us the last stanza of the song:

O then Polly Oliver, she burst into tears

And told the good doctor her hopes and her fears,

And very shortly after, for better or for worse,

The captain took joyfully his pretty soldier nurse.

CUTEST SONG EVER. I liked the piece before - it's so beautiful and I'm an absolute sucker for folk songs. And now, knowing the story it's based off of, I absolutely love it.

You can check out the full song lyrics at this Wikipedia link.

And what is it with girls falling in love with captains? Oh yeah, that's why... ;)

I Can Tell That We Are Gonna Be Friends

[uber gay] at his best

I found this pic on Facebook the other day and I felt like sharing it with the world :) It's of my dear friend [uber gay] who I've known since fifth grade, posing for a class project [X] and [shortage of perfect breasts] made WAY back when (so like three or four years ago. Yeah, like that was so long ago, right?)

I miss [uber gay]. I really do. I wrote this post about him last year for my science and culture class and I thought I'd revamp it and share it, especially as he's been on my mind a lot lately. [Львица] and I are hoping to go visit him over spring break and I happen to have a character kind-of, sort-of based off of him in my time travel novel. So, here's a short history, and a short psychological study, of my friendship with [uber gay]:

Whenever I think of science, my thoughts often travel to [uber gay], a meteorology major in Florida. We met in fifth grade, right after I’d moved to Minnesota. He’d been sick for the first week I’d spent in class and he’d forgotten that there was a “new girl” there. When he finally came back, he spent the first half hour staring at the back of my head. It was utterly creepy and irritating. Oddly enough, we became close friends.

Renaissance Men and Byronic Heroes

I wonder if psych majors have a difficult managing their relationships.

I thought of this as I read a chapter of my social psychology book on "the self." It started after this section on self-awareness (the idea that when people focus on themselves, they compare themselves to... well, themselves; their own values and such. It seems obvious, but that way we're on the same page):

Even when we are self-aware and introspect to our heart's content, it can be difficult to know why we feel the way we do. Imagine trying to decide why you love someone. Being in love typically makes you feel giddy, euphoric, and preoccupied; in fact, the ancient Greeks thought love was a sickness. But why do you feel this way? Exactly what is it about your sweetheart that makes you fall in love? We know it is something about out loved one's looks, personality, values, and background. But precisely what? How can we possibly describe the special chemistry that exists between two people? A friend of ours once told us he was in love with a woman because she played the saxophone. Was this really the reason? The heart works in such mysterious ways that it is difficult to tell.  (pages 125-126, Aronson, Wilson, Akert - Social Psychology, 7th edition)

After this, they site an example from the "old" TV show Friends (seriously, they call it old. Thanks for making me feel ancient, textbook) when Ross makes a list of things he likes and doesn't like about Rachel. This is, according to the author's, a very bad idea.

Consider people like Ross who try to analyze why they feel the way they do about a romantic partner. When people list reasons in this manner, they often change their attitudes toward their partners, at least temporarily... Why? It is difficult to dissect the exact causes of our romantic feelings so we latch on to reasons that sound good and that happen to be on our minds (remember our friend who claimed he was in love with a woman because she played the saxophone?). (page 128, Aronson, Wilson, Akert)


This causes issues for us when we make lists and then list strange things about a person (the textbook mentions a partner annoyingly smacking their gum) instead of more complex things like good chemistry. Thus if we focus on things like gum smacking, we might suddenly decide we're not really in love with our partner and break up with them, then later regret it.

And to make matters even WORSE, the authors mention a study done where men and women are startled on a bridge and the men either immediately evaluated how attracted they were to the woman or asked to evaluate after they crossed the bridge. Those that were evaluated immediately while still startled rated the women as more attractive than those who had calmed down. This "misattribution of arousal" has been found to be true in both women and men. "The moral is this:" the authors say, "If you encounter an attractive man or woman and your heart is going thump-thump, think carefully about why you are aroused - you might fall in love for the wrong reasons!" (page 135, Aronson, Wilson, Akert)

In Sickeness and In Health

I came across this article this morning while scanning the headlines on Google New: Pat Robertson Says Divorcing Spouse with Alzheimer's is OK.

Now, from the beginning, I should admit that I already have great dislike for this televangelist. He's way too focused on Armageddon. He condemns feminism, homosexuality, and liberal college professors. He describes feminism as a "socialist, anti-family political movement that encourages women to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and become lesbians." He states that acceptance of homosexuality could result in natural disasters like hurricanes, earthquakes, tornadoes and other threats like terrorist attacks. Apparently Robertson thinks Scotland is a "dark land overrun by homosexuals" (this cracks me up actually. I'm not even offended by this one, it's so ridiculous). Don't even get me started on what he said about the earthquake in Haiti. (I admit that I got most of this info from Wikipedia - from Pat Robertson and Pat Robertson controversies - but I still stand by the fact that Wikipedia has good source links. Besides, it's less biased than this post is going to be).

Now that I've admitted I'm biased while subtly trying to persuade you to side with me, back to the thing about Alzheimer's. First off, he does say that he would guilt trip people for doing this. But why say it's okay in the first place then? He states that Alzheimer's is a "kind of death."

This leaves me kind of speechless. Yes, Alzheimer's is a terrible disease. Yes, it is incredibly hard for spouses to go through. But it isn't the only terrible disease out there. Once you say it's okay to divorce someone with Alzheimer's, it it okay to divorce someone because they have have cancer? Because they have lupus? Because they have depression? After stating that one disease is grounds to divorce someone, how can you keep this from snowballing into something uncontrollable.

And Robertson, who condemns abortion, who seems like the sort who could condemn taking someone off of life support or any sort of assisted suicide, has blatantly labeled this disease as a form of death. How is this different from euthanasia? Yes, you're not actually killing the person but you're already labeling them as dead. I simply don't understand how this sort of cognitive dissonance can exist.

And all of this coming from a man who belongs to the front crying that if homosexuals were allowed to get married, the institution of marriage would be destroyed. However, I think Robertson completely misunderstands the institution of marriage overall. Especially the little bit "in sickness and in health." Marriage is supposed to overcome all obstacles - that's what strong, eternal love is supposed to do. Of course, this isn't always the case - sometimes divorce is better for both people. Everyone's relationships are different, after all. But I feel like there's extreme differences between both people wanting divorce for the betterment of each other or one person or a couple needing divorce because their relationship is unhealthy, and one person wanting to divorce their spouse because they don't want to deal with their sick partner. Aside from what God says on the topic (there's plenty and I'm not going to try to paraphrase it here) Robertson's words weakens marriage by implying it CAN'T overcome something like this. Really, Robertson, you won't let two men or two women who love each other let their relationship get legitimized but someone who doesn't want to deal with their sick spouse can get divorced? Maybe I have a totally romantic, idealist idea of love. But somehow, I feel like I'm right on this one. Sickness is terrible, love is not easy, life is hard - but life and love will endure. Isn't the idea of marriage itself proof of that?

Well, that was quite homoerotic

After an interesting lecture on "Holocaust Envy" [Львица] and I went to a pub called Town Hall Brewery for dinner and to have an "intellectual conversation" on the presentation we'd just witnessed. Amidst our critiques and questionings, [Львица] noticed two men sitting at the bar, one apparently doing an eye exam on the other. We thought it was odd, but turned back to our conversation. Then, while passing by an eye glasses shop in Dinkytown today, the event returned to my mind, along with this fun factoid: Top 5 Jobs for Gay Professionals. Yes, that's right boys and girls - apparently people in the gay community are drawn to helping people improve their vision. I can't remember where I first heard this statistic, or why it would have come up, but it's one of those random things to throw into conversation. Like the fact that plants can have fevers (did you know that? [Львица] shared that knowledge with me after finding it on the inside of a Snapple cap. Yes, that's now where I get my scientific information from).

But back to our dear friends at the bar. Either we watched two men practicing doing eye exams just because... but if at least one of them really was an optometrist, and if they were both gay, maybe we just caught some kind of kinky foreplay. C'mon, like you never used your job to impress someone. You know what Captain Jack would say...

This video took me like an hour to find on Youtube. Seriously, be proud of me - I beat the big, bad video posting sight. Also forgive the two hundredth Torchwood reference this week.

You remind me of me... but bitch, please

I could kill Diana Villiers right now. This brings about two problems:
1) I want to kill an individual.
2) I want to kill an individual who is fictional.
Which, ultimately, brings me to a third problem:
3) I am jealous of a fictional individual.

I should explain. Diana Villiers is a character in Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey/Maturin series (aka, the series that the movie Master and Commander is based on). Diana is a fascinating character, especially given the time period she inhabits. She's a short, dark-haired smartass who goes horseback riding and fox hunting, plays the piano even though she can't read music and won't listen to her aunt's plans for her life. She grew up in India, fell passionately in love with a man who did not make a "profitable" match, but whom she married none the less. After he died, she returned to England, a black sheep in her family of gentle lambs. Needless to say, I love this maniac. She's the sort of character I've been dying to see in Regency era novels ever since I first met Elizabeth Bennet. Don't get me wrong, Jane Austen's Elizabeth is fabulous; I like her a lot. But I always longed for a character that incorporated both Elizabeth's free-thinking and Emma Woodhouse's sharp tongue. With Diana, I get the perfect match. Which, interestingly, creates the sort of girl I try to be.

Love and Loss, or: too much info about my personal life, Part 2

II.

You see, while I was abroad, I met a guy. I know, I know – shocking. Something that is so normal is big-ass deal for me. Seriously, all of my guy friends, save one or two, since elementary school have been gay. So meeting as straight guy who seemed to like me and I liked and who wasn’t a douche and whom I actually had stuff in common with was a miracle. It seemed too good to be true. It was.

[X] was convinced that he liked me after I mentioned to her that I liked him. Which I conveniently realized at the end of the trip, when it was too late to do something. Fail. But when I returned home, I friended him and wrote him a message, asking about the rest of his trip. He was polite, but not forward – if he liked me, he wasn’t doing anything about it. So, after taking some advice from [X], I asked him out for coffee. Which he agreed to. I couldn’t believe it. I was high on delight and hope.

By this point, some of my friends were already referring to him as my boyfriend. I didn’t like this, as nothing had happened yet, but one friend said it was “inevitable” that we would be going out.

So we went to coffee. It was fun, sweet, charming. But I wasn’t sure I’d gotten my point across. He seemed to recognize that it was a date, but I wasn’t sure that he got that I liked him. So I told him via text that I had a good time and that he should let me know if he wanted to do something again. I basically got an “ok” and that was it. Frustrated, I waited a few days and, rolling with the advice of a pal from the Scotland trip, asked him if he wanted to do anything that weekend (okay, so the friend said to call him but I felt more comfortable with texting. As said before, I apparently don’t know how to use a phone). He said he was busy so I asked if he wanted to do something after my trip to Indiana to see family. He said he’d have to see. I was not happy, to say the least.

So I went to Indiana (which is a story in itself) and came back home, waiting for text, a call, a message, anything. Nothing. I refused to text him – mostly from the bidding of my friends, who said it was his turn to do the work. And besides, he’d shown no clear signs of liking me – which meant anything I did would look rather clingy and desperate.