Friday, November 20, 2009
I believe that lovers should be tied together
Lately I've been wishing I had one desire,
Something that would make me never want another,
Something that would make it so that nothing matters,
All would be clearer then
But I guess I'll have to settle for a few brief moments,
And watch it all dissolve into a single second,
And try to write it down into a perfect sonnet,
Or one foolish line
'Cause that's all that you'll get,
So you'll have to accept,
You are here ,
Then you're gone
I believe that lovers should be tied together,
Thrown into the ocean in the worst of weather,
Left there to drown,
Left there to drown in their innocence
But as for me I'm coming to the final chapter,
I've read all of the pages and there's still no answer,
The only words before I know will soon come after,
It’s the only way it can be.
So I stand in the sun,
And I breathe with my lungs,
Trying to spare me the weight of the truth,
Seeing everything you've ever seen was just a mirror,
Spend your whole life sweating in an endless fever,
Laying in a bathtub full of freezing water,
Wishing you were a ghost
But once you knew a girl and you named her Lover,
And danced with her in kitchens through the greenest summers
But autumn came,
She disappeared,
You can't remember
Where she said she was going to
But you know that she's gone,
'Cause she left you a song,
That you don't wanna sing
Singing: I believe that lovers should be chained together,
Thrown into a fire with their songs and letters,
And left there to burn,
Left there to burn in their arrogance
But as for me I'm coming to my final failure,
I've killed myself with changes trying to make things better,
But still ended up becoming something other,
Than what I had planned to be
All right!
Now I believe that lovers should be draped in flowers,
And laid entwined together on a bed of clover,
And left there to sleep,
Left there to dream of their happiness.
Your balls are in a jar on top of my fridge
Long time no see. In other news: I did get new glasses. Bigger frames. Nothing hipster-obnoxious. But it is visibly bigger. I suppose that makes my corrected field of vision much bigger, no?
Zipping through the semester, there are a couple of things I haven't had a chance to sit down and address. The biggest of these is my persistent desire to see the best in every situation. I guess this is a good thing but not when it prevents me from realizing that somethings are just meant to be left untouched, unfixed, and maybe the mess in front of me isn't a project I can whip back into shape by means of the usual Kate Intervention.
I've spoken to my friends and I've concluded that there are some women who are definitely Type-A. No kidding. These Type-A women, however, hold every aspect of their lives to high standards.
High standards = High expectations.
The latter is not always as snobby as it's made out to be but come on, high expectations lets us become hard-working individuals who strive for nothing short of perfection. Great if you're in Organic Chemistry or Calculus III in college. Not so great if you're in a relationship... sometimes.
Having high expectations leads to two things that are sometimes not always so exclusive:
Basically, the high expectations have given rise to high disappointments. It's like clockwork. I meet a guy, I like said guy, I have expectations for said guy, and then... I start to dislike said guy and the cycle rebirths itself. It's exhausting, it's disposable, and it's downright mentally challenging. There are so many maneuvers and secret attack moves in dating these days that I'm almost missing the bravado all over again.
Where is that guy who will storm in front of me and another potential suitor and say, "No, baby, you're MY girl and I only want you." And then we would be "going steady" after that.
THAT DOESN'T HAPPEN ANYMORE. The damn feminist movement took away men's balls. And gave it to us. And we don't know what to do with all this testosterone except put it in our careers because, hey, guess what? It fucking fails when we use it in relationships.
Sorry, boys, but someone had to wear the pants.
This unsettling feeling I get when I notice that something is "wrong" with the guy is driving me insane. I hope it goes away but I'm scared of what I end up with when I start to ignore that voice in my head that tells me I can do better. I've stopped looking for perfection but I haven't stopped fighting for it. Maybe this whole turning 21 thing will make me see something I've been overlooking.
Maybe.
Zipping through the semester, there are a couple of things I haven't had a chance to sit down and address. The biggest of these is my persistent desire to see the best in every situation. I guess this is a good thing but not when it prevents me from realizing that somethings are just meant to be left untouched, unfixed, and maybe the mess in front of me isn't a project I can whip back into shape by means of the usual Kate Intervention.
I've spoken to my friends and I've concluded that there are some women who are definitely Type-A. No kidding. These Type-A women, however, hold every aspect of their lives to high standards.
High standards = High expectations.
The latter is not always as snobby as it's made out to be but come on, high expectations lets us become hard-working individuals who strive for nothing short of perfection. Great if you're in Organic Chemistry or Calculus III in college. Not so great if you're in a relationship... sometimes.
Having high expectations leads to two things that are sometimes not always so exclusive:
- You never settle for anything less than what you feel you deserve and you always end up with "the best."
- Your demanding air of "high expectations" drives others away because, let's face it, not every Type-A woman attracts a Type-A man who is completely okay subjecting himself to judgment and scrutiny of a woman's "Perfect Man" checklist.
Basically, the high expectations have given rise to high disappointments. It's like clockwork. I meet a guy, I like said guy, I have expectations for said guy, and then... I start to dislike said guy and the cycle rebirths itself. It's exhausting, it's disposable, and it's downright mentally challenging. There are so many maneuvers and secret attack moves in dating these days that I'm almost missing the bravado all over again.
Where is that guy who will storm in front of me and another potential suitor and say, "No, baby, you're MY girl and I only want you." And then we would be "going steady" after that.
THAT DOESN'T HAPPEN ANYMORE. The damn feminist movement took away men's balls. And gave it to us. And we don't know what to do with all this testosterone except put it in our careers because, hey, guess what? It fucking fails when we use it in relationships.
Sorry, boys, but someone had to wear the pants.
This unsettling feeling I get when I notice that something is "wrong" with the guy is driving me insane. I hope it goes away but I'm scared of what I end up with when I start to ignore that voice in my head that tells me I can do better. I've stopped looking for perfection but I haven't stopped fighting for it. Maybe this whole turning 21 thing will make me see something I've been overlooking.
Maybe.
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