Saturday, November 14, 2009

Matters of the Heart

It's 10pm on a Saturday night, just days before my twenty-third birthday, and I am sitting in front of my computer with a bottle of Schmitt Sohne Riesling, a box of Triscuits, Rondele Pub Cheese, and a copy of Pablo Neruda's "100 Love Sonnets." It is written in Spanish with English translations, though being capable of near-perfect fluency in Spanish is one of my hidden talents, and the passion is so heavily present in Spanish that I usually wind up crying. Translation: pretty lame, si?

I toyed for quite some time with the idea of creating a new blog dedicated to my thoughts on social issues. I am not aiming for my personal emotions about my personal life to leak through to the blog world, especially when I am not the most willing to share emotions that I am experiencing. I'm passionate about human rights, and my writing will be undoubtedly filled with those feelings; when it comes to matters of my own heart, though, I am not so willing to share. I know I sound like a Vulcan, but I am not interested in my blog becoming comparable to a personal journal. Maybe this doesn't make much sense, but in my mind it is all quite logical.
At any rate, I do want my blog to maintain a certain structure, but I am human (so, maybe I'm only half-Vulcan).

In being (most times) happily single, nights like this make me ponder about why, exactly, I am. I'd like to point to a post that I guest blogged on "The Intersection of Madness and Reality" found here (and, sigh, sidenote: the image before the blog is not of me, teehee):

At any rate, I got to thinking earlier that today was going to be a great day; I generally work 7 days a week but for some unknown (and unrequested) reason, I was not scheduled to work at one of my jobs, and I thought that I would celebrate my birthday early instead of having an early quarter-life crisis. In part, I would like to thank my Grandfather for this particular emotion, as he decided to drop not-so-subtle hints about my need to work toward getting married.

I am in a transitional period and I am also extremely fortunate to be in my current predicament; I try to exercise my thankfulness whenever possible. Yet in all of my gratitude, I eventually would like to experience the love that Pablo Neruda writes of in these sonetos. For instance (in English):

"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
"I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
"so I love you because I know no other way" (XVII)

It's funny that, overall, young singledom can be a bit existential if you allow it, and that is what I enjoy most about the experience. I am reluctant to allowing anyone close contact with my mind because I am eagerly working on re/discovering and re/defining myself. I believe that this process should not slow once you find another person with which your identity intertwines, but I know that it sometimes will. In the guest post, a commenter made the comment about women defining what makes a man a "man" -- I am willing to rebut this particular viewpoint until I am blue in the face, and I know it won't take long with my asthma (smile). Some women may chase after Lil Wayne, but who is responsible for telling women what is attractive? We all get messages about certain social definitions and it isn't entirely the media, or entirely our peers, or entirely our experiences. It is all of this and then some.

The hilarity in all of this is that while Steve Urkel was busy chasing Laura Winslow (who was busy chasing Stefan Ur-kell, a cooler version of Steve!), I was busy after the suspenders wearing, cheese loving Steve Urkel's heart. Sure, Eddie was foine(and had a cool, older guy's appeal), but my Steve had a big heart and a bright future, and wanted Laura, who was pretty intelligent and incredibly beautiful, but sometimes downright mean to him.

I have all the confidence in the world in myself. Even when I have doubts, they are only expressed among very few people and never spoken of again. I have a tendency to desire the wrong guys, even with their Urkel-ian characteristics; examples? He's intelligent, driven, down right philosophical, an activist for a good cause, and miles and miles away/dead/fictional/older than my father/taken/married (but sometimes, even, interested...which ultimately disqualifies him).

I don't believe in male-bashing and I'm not one of those "a good man is so hard to find" types. I'm just wondering if Steve is still at Laura's heels while I'm doing my McCauley Culkin ("Home Alone", Ithankyou) on a Saturday night.


  1. love the neruda and am fond of the white wine in the blue bottle
    and this-
    (but sometimes, even, interested...which ultimately disqualifies him).

    i do know the feeling
    welcome to the blogosphere

  2. Oh this is just...refreshing. You have wetted my appetite indeed. So the qualities that qualify him are also the qualities that disqualify him. How interesting.

    By the way, check out "il postino," an Italian film that creatively places Neruda in an interesting love story.