11:15 p.m. - 2003-08-30
True Love...but not Mr. Swayze
I have always admitted that I have a weakness for sappy romance. True, I prefer it when it�s mixed up with a little comedy, but the fact is, when there�s a love story going on, I tend to tune in. I can�t help it.
I�m watching the end of Dirty Dancing, one of THE movies of my pre-teen hood. When ever I see it on TV, I can�t help but stop channel surfing, if only for a bit. There�s just something about it that lures me in every time. It�s more than just nostalgia and sentimental feelings about going back to my youth, there�s more to it. And it has to do with why I get suckered into a lot of cheesy romances.
Despite the inherent cynic in me, I have a teeny-weeny, littlest of little hope that those sorts of romances can actually exist.
There is a part of me that recognizes and completely knows that the crap that happens in the movies does not happen in real life. But there�s another part of me who wants to believe that some hot, perfect guy is going to sweep me off my feet, teach me how to dance and profess his love for me by executing the perfect lift. Not necessarily Patrick Swayze, though. I want to believe that if I made plans to meet a stranger at the top of the Empire States building, it will Tom Hanks and not some deformed, anti-social psychotic. I want to think that �True Love� exists and that everything can end up happily ever after.
I don�t believe it, though. And that�s not a bad thing.
10:43 a.m. - 2003-08-29
Pink and Sticky
It really is amazing how one�s life can completely change in a blink of an eye that was actually just one year long.
There are so many things in life that are fleeting. More so than you might expect. Sometimes it feels like permanence just doesn�t exist and I suppose, in a way, it doesn�t. Change can�t be helped, it happens whether we like it or not, but at the basest of all things, the one permanent thread is that you will always be you, and that can�t be helped. Whether you like it or not.
Someone told me that life is like a wheel, and while I�m not the biggest fan of Meaning of Life Metaphors, this one made sense. Here�s the thing: you�re a piece of gum on a wheel and, for all intense purposes, you�re just spinning around and around all your meager existence. One minute, you�re at the top of the wheel, the wind rushing through the hair you�ve picked up on your sticky way around, the sun gleaming on your rough pink exterior. You�re on top of the world, literally. The problem is the wheel is always moving, whether you like it or not. Once you�ve reached that pinnacle, you�ve got nowhere to go but downhill and, sooner or later, you�re in the mud. You�re picking up more hair, and possibly some other nasty substances that you�d rather not think about. You�re squished and dirty, and it seems like you just can�t get any lower. Ah, but here�s the trick: the wheel is always moving. Sometimes it�s just slow enough that you may think you�re standing still, but it�s moving. Always. And it�s that motion that�s going to get you back to the top. You�ve got no where else to go but up, so you know that as low as you are, as bad as things may seem, that wheel is going to get you back up there.
And the cycle never ends.
Maybe this doesn�t seem like the most re-assuring of metaphors. Basically, I�m saying that all we have to look forward to is a never-ending tornado of the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, up and down until we�re dead. I guess that doesn�t really sound appealing, does it?
But I like to look at it a different way. If you think about it, how would ever know what happiness is, unless you knew what sadness was before? Truth is, the two are intrinsically connected, whether you like it or not. So, if I know what the lowest of lows feels like, then, sweet mercy, I will definitely enjoy that highest of highs. If I�ve been deprived of something in my life before, how much better will it feel when I�m no longer without? If change never happened, if I didn�t have that reference point for the way I�m feeling now, life would be pretty damn boring in my opinion. I�d forget what was ever like to feel anything, and pass my days in a state of indifference. And that doesn�t appeal to me at all.
So, as long as that wheel keeps on spinning, keeps dragging me into the mud and bringing me back into the sun, I�ll be ok. Because I can always count on coming back on top.
Just call me Queen of Big Wheel Cheese.
