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On love...
Nov. 23rd, 2002 12:53 pmPerhaps the Art History Movie Night double-feature of Monty Python and the Quest for the Holy Grail and Shakespeare in Love got me thinking a bit too much. Maybe it also had something to do with the fact that I paced -nay, sleepwalked- the hallways of the art wing for a half-hour waiting for a conversation about how one would kill a dog and what constitues as being smacked on the ass to end so I could go home and perhaps call James before it got too late. So much for that idea.
So yeah, back to the thinking thing.
Love is an interesting thing. Yet, what is it?
It is trial and temptation? Loss and heartbreak? Agony and ecstacy? Enlightenment and irony?
Pleasant hormones and phermones secreted in order to make procreation that much easier?
I am in love, and none of these attempts at an explanation can even come close to qualifying. No words can.
In Shakespeare in Love, the gauntlet of creating a play that depicts the 'true nature of love' is thrown. In the fictional eyes of Queen Elizabeth, 'Romeo and Juliet' qualifies.
*snort* Hardly. Sorry, Liz, but I scoff at that.
'Romeo and Juliet' is shallow and selfish. Romeo is a player, jumping from Rosaline to Juliet with little more than a glance. Juliet is naiive and in over her head.
I don't believe that 'love at first sight' constitutes as love. Yes, it can be a bit of a start, but you should definitely not base your life around it quite yet. Lust at first sight, yes. Pornography takes advantage of this. Prostitution, too. But to base true love on it? How shallow can you get?
To find true love is to find your soul mate. To be able to expose your soul to someone takes time, patience, and trust; certainly not things to be tossed forth with a glance that makes your pants tight. Romeo sends a bit of snappy dialogue and a kiss or two in Juliet's direction, and they run off to be married the next day. Verona, you say? I'm thinking Vegas.
Now before you start ranting on about me being discriminatory and stereotypical towards Vegans (Vegasins? Vegasites? You know what I mean ...), I'm just pointing put that it has become a metaphor for eloping. Modern society has become so hyped, with time being money and efficiency being more money, that ... that ... Sorry. Words got stuck. I just ... agh, you get what I'm saying, right? Not that Shakespearean times seemed to be much better.
And aother thing about 'R&J' missing the point; love doesn't have to be tragic to be true. Sometimes your soul mate is your mate, but sometimes it just can't happen. Soul mates can happen between close friends, between siblings. True love can happen for any two people, but that doesn't mean that Fate (whoever, whatever, yadda, yadda) has smiled upon them all too sunnily. If you can't be with your true love, if you believe it to be so, then treasure what you do have. Life. You've gotta be alive to appreciate any form of love.
Don't trip on down to the nearest apothecary for some medival Drain-o, or think that the nearest pointy object would look so pretty ebedded just left of your sternum.
True love can happen more than once.
Ack .. I've lost my stream of thought. I can't reiterate my point much more.
Just ... know that there are others out there. Know that you'll keep ticking. Know that there's a chance that you'll feel the need to break into wordless poetry when another soul is given to your care for awhile.*
Love is not tragic. Nor life. The abandonment of either is.
*(Selling them does not count. This means you, Vic.)
So yeah, back to the thinking thing.
Love is an interesting thing. Yet, what is it?
It is trial and temptation? Loss and heartbreak? Agony and ecstacy? Enlightenment and irony?
Pleasant hormones and phermones secreted in order to make procreation that much easier?
I am in love, and none of these attempts at an explanation can even come close to qualifying. No words can.
In Shakespeare in Love, the gauntlet of creating a play that depicts the 'true nature of love' is thrown. In the fictional eyes of Queen Elizabeth, 'Romeo and Juliet' qualifies.
*snort* Hardly. Sorry, Liz, but I scoff at that.
'Romeo and Juliet' is shallow and selfish. Romeo is a player, jumping from Rosaline to Juliet with little more than a glance. Juliet is naiive and in over her head.
I don't believe that 'love at first sight' constitutes as love. Yes, it can be a bit of a start, but you should definitely not base your life around it quite yet. Lust at first sight, yes. Pornography takes advantage of this. Prostitution, too. But to base true love on it? How shallow can you get?
To find true love is to find your soul mate. To be able to expose your soul to someone takes time, patience, and trust; certainly not things to be tossed forth with a glance that makes your pants tight. Romeo sends a bit of snappy dialogue and a kiss or two in Juliet's direction, and they run off to be married the next day. Verona, you say? I'm thinking Vegas.
Now before you start ranting on about me being discriminatory and stereotypical towards Vegans (Vegasins? Vegasites? You know what I mean ...), I'm just pointing put that it has become a metaphor for eloping. Modern society has become so hyped, with time being money and efficiency being more money, that ... that ... Sorry. Words got stuck. I just ... agh, you get what I'm saying, right? Not that Shakespearean times seemed to be much better.
And aother thing about 'R&J' missing the point; love doesn't have to be tragic to be true. Sometimes your soul mate is your mate, but sometimes it just can't happen. Soul mates can happen between close friends, between siblings. True love can happen for any two people, but that doesn't mean that Fate (whoever, whatever, yadda, yadda) has smiled upon them all too sunnily. If you can't be with your true love, if you believe it to be so, then treasure what you do have. Life. You've gotta be alive to appreciate any form of love.
Don't trip on down to the nearest apothecary for some medival Drain-o, or think that the nearest pointy object would look so pretty ebedded just left of your sternum.
True love can happen more than once.
Ack .. I've lost my stream of thought. I can't reiterate my point much more.
Just ... know that there are others out there. Know that you'll keep ticking. Know that there's a chance that you'll feel the need to break into wordless poetry when another soul is given to your care for awhile.*
Love is not tragic. Nor life. The abandonment of either is.
*(Selling them does not count. This means you, Vic.)
