Can someone please tell me how to rid myself of these terrible life crushing things? I tell you what, an overactive imagination can be a gal's own worst enemy. How do you get excited about something new without having any expectations attached to them? I need to know! Especially if the old saying is true: love shows up when you least EXPECT it.
fuck.
Maybe I just have too much time on my hands. Too much time spent in my own brain and not enough spent on busy work projects. The thing is, writing is what I like to do best and what I write about is a mix of my actual life and my "wish was" my actual life. Between the two, my brain is a constant hum of possible endings. I can hardly make any decisions without chasing down a plethora of outcomes for each one. Every man of promise who saunters through my life gets a spin on the dance floor of my daydreams. Not that I consider all the different story lines possible or even plausible, for that matter. They just crop up without my really meaning to think them at all. It's like that Levi's commercial that aired a few years ago, you know the one. The girl gets into the elevator next to a guy about her own age, shoves her hands into her pockets after they accidentally make eye contact and upon glimpsing her sliver of bare stomach his mind goes off on a tangent of their lives together. Just as he's seeing their fictional kids start to grow in that sliver of belly, the elevator door opens and she strolls out. This leads me to believe there ARE other people out there who's fantasy lives are more real than their everyday ones. Other than me, I mean.
Everyone's always beating into me this notion of, "Don't go into any of these dates with any expectation and you won't be disappointed." That's like telling Robinson Crusoe to remember to start with a little light salad and some chicken broth as you walk him into a Souplantation his first day off the island.
Yes yes, patience is a virtue, but how much fun to the virtuous have? How passionate is a virtuous affair? How memorable? How lasting? Howard Zinn met his wife while taking her a love note from another man. Less than a week after they met, he went off to war and they conducted their entire courtship via correspondence. They got married instantly when he came home on leave. Why is that so impossible now? Is romance dying because the purpose of it, coupling and copulation, is no longer dire? We don't really need more people in the world. We need population CONTROL not continuance. So now that our species has throughly infested the world, maybe our biological urges are getting confused. Are we, instinctually, becoming aware of our own non-necessity to breed and therefore becoming pickier and pickier about finding a mate? The smarter you are, the harder you are to match. The more unique, strange, funny, creative etc you are, the harder it is to find another weird bird like yourself to pair off with. At least, from were I sit it seems to be.
To be desperately in love you need to be, well, desperate. Something needs to be in peril around you. War helps a great deal with this. A huge event out of your control that threatens all you hold dear--oh ho! That'll get your blood, hormones, and everything else you got, boiling quick. Sure, we've got a war of our own going on now. Plenty of soldier's wives trying to hold down the fort here--but it's not like the world wars where we were sure of what we were fighting to protect and who the bad guys were. Now we're a lot of lost lambs in the wood. Hoping to be good, for whoever or whatever is watching over us. If there IS anything watching at all.
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