Let's face it, playing guitar is like the epitome of being a lonely heart. Why do you think that like every country song is accompanied by an acoustic guitar gently playing a simple melody as twangy words of heartbreak ring over them? I mean, the guitar, unlike the piano, is easy to pick up and keep with you whenever you feel your heart torn apart and thrown back at your feet.
So, anyway, I've always wished that I could play guitar. Not in like an "I actually want to learn to play guitar so somebody please teach me" kind of way, more in the "damn it would be awesome if I could play guitar right now and sing this really sad song that's bouncing around in my head and post a video of me singing it on YouTube and get super famous and have that stupid boy who made me write the song in the first place totally regret not asking me out" kind of way.
There's something liberating about feeling like you're able to share your emotions at the drop of a hat and that those feelings can be spread around to millions (but more realistically the two people and my mother who actually pay attention to the things I post) instantly for them to relate to and commiserate with and the like. Sure, I don't actually need a guitar to do that. I mean, duh, I have this blog, but a guitar would totally make me fancier (and have more becoming the next Taylor Swift potential).
But enough about guitars (for now at least) the point is that it's nice to know that you can put what you're thinking out there and that someone else, somewhere in the world, may find some solace in recognizing that they aren't alone in wishing that they could play guitar (see how I brought it back?) or more importantly, that they aren't the only ones who feel the pang of rejection without ever actually taking the risk that could have helped them find true happiness or who are so desperate to fall in love that they sabotage any potential chance because they're more afraid it won't live up to their expectations than they are of being alone forever.
Heavy stuff, I know, but that's what it's about. It's about feeling comfortable and confident enough to admit the faults that you disguise as immaturity are deeply ingrained values you can't break free of. It's about being willing to shout out to the world "i'm flawed" and find solidarity in a cyber universe echoing back to you in validation. It's about wishing you could play guitar and share a song with the world because you're just too full of emotions to keep them to yourself and maybe letting them loose will help you make sense of them or at least provide clarity for someone else.
And so, this is all to say, that I have returned to blogging. Lucky you!
XOXO
E
Thursday, March 14, 2013
JUST ASK!
Seems like a simple command; just seven letters, two words (and an exclamation point if you really want to emphasize it). But, the concept of asking represents a confrontation with the unknown, an end to the mysteries that you are able to construct into your fantasies and a forced recognition of the realities you've tried so hard to pretend weren't there. Sure, sometimes you get the answer you're looking for, but usually, you haven't asked because a piece of you is saying that you already know the answer isn't what you want. I mean, we are intuitive beings, capable of understanding subtlety and nuance in our relationships to others. Why then do we insist that we cannot discern the answers to our desires and our fears without asking?
Okay, I know, not everybody reacts the same way or uses the same cues or whatever. Let's face it, there isn't some universally acknowledged book of romantic behaviors that we can refer to whenever we are unsure if something is meant platonically or not (someone really should get on that though.) So, yeah, there's room for interpretation and there's room for miscommunication and all of that. But, at the end of the day, if you have to ask, you aren't getting what you need from the relationship initially. Sure, you may be telling yourself that you just can't read him and maybe he just doesn't get you and you let one right move discount a hundred wrong ones.
I don't blame you. We all do it. We disguise our hurt and our sense of failure with elaborate explanations that we build up into facades around the harsh truths we've deemed too difficult to face. So, we push ourselves to ask, knowing that we don't have the courage to do so, because needing to ask suggests that there is still a choice in the answer and that we haven't found closure yet. Yeah, people always harp about how important closure is, but the truth is closure is the ultimate betrayal of our innate desire to convince ourselves that we don't know, that we can't know, and therefore we are able to write our own version of reality clouded with the underlying desires we try to pretend no longer affect us.
Ultimately, the command to ask, to find out the truth, is just another safety net to protect ourselves from falling head first into the realizations that deep down we've already confronted. The answers that we find when we ask are not the disappointments of surprise but the destructions of the dream state that we perpetuate for our own wellbeing. So, we will continue to push ourselves to ask, leaving the question lingering in the space between what we will accept as true and what we fear is true, an abyss of hopes and desires that are shrouded in the fears of deep-rooted intuition. The question doesn't seek an answer, it seeks the postponement of the inevitable confrontation between the dreams that we have wasted our time building up around ourselves and the underlying realities that have stopped us from knocking on the door in the first place.
XOXO
E
Okay, I know, not everybody reacts the same way or uses the same cues or whatever. Let's face it, there isn't some universally acknowledged book of romantic behaviors that we can refer to whenever we are unsure if something is meant platonically or not (someone really should get on that though.) So, yeah, there's room for interpretation and there's room for miscommunication and all of that. But, at the end of the day, if you have to ask, you aren't getting what you need from the relationship initially. Sure, you may be telling yourself that you just can't read him and maybe he just doesn't get you and you let one right move discount a hundred wrong ones.
I don't blame you. We all do it. We disguise our hurt and our sense of failure with elaborate explanations that we build up into facades around the harsh truths we've deemed too difficult to face. So, we push ourselves to ask, knowing that we don't have the courage to do so, because needing to ask suggests that there is still a choice in the answer and that we haven't found closure yet. Yeah, people always harp about how important closure is, but the truth is closure is the ultimate betrayal of our innate desire to convince ourselves that we don't know, that we can't know, and therefore we are able to write our own version of reality clouded with the underlying desires we try to pretend no longer affect us.
Ultimately, the command to ask, to find out the truth, is just another safety net to protect ourselves from falling head first into the realizations that deep down we've already confronted. The answers that we find when we ask are not the disappointments of surprise but the destructions of the dream state that we perpetuate for our own wellbeing. So, we will continue to push ourselves to ask, leaving the question lingering in the space between what we will accept as true and what we fear is true, an abyss of hopes and desires that are shrouded in the fears of deep-rooted intuition. The question doesn't seek an answer, it seeks the postponement of the inevitable confrontation between the dreams that we have wasted our time building up around ourselves and the underlying realities that have stopped us from knocking on the door in the first place.
XOXO
E
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