My blog is the most telling of my personality. The written side of me is precise and withholding nothing, as opposed to my physical presence which tells a world of deceit and pretense. This blog allows me to cogently freewrite as I think. Seldom do I hit the backspace and rehash my words. At 12:38AM I am listening to a newfound song I discovered on Antony's Facebook page: G.E.M.'s Someday I'll Fly, another hopeless romantic song about taking chances and being set when you have someone you can call a lover. This typifies the experience of a lover, a soulmate, as a desirable partner because they can complete you. But maybe it's not the actual individuality and uniqueness of that particular partner that fulfills your emptiness, it's actually the place of that person that holds charm. So maybe if I got together with A, it's not because of A's individuality that I love A, but it's because of A's mere presence and ability to fill that A spot that I derive such jubilation. This is the theory of Shel Silverstein's The Missing Piece: a missing piece seeks its missing half, but it welcomingly bonds with any half piece that it sees, not seeking whether it's the right fit, but just seeking it for the sake of seeking and for the sake of filling the void arbitrarily. So perhaps it is not in my best interest to acquire a girlfriend and abscond with her to Vegas or Santa Monica. I am almost certain that my interest in a certain girl will wane and I will lose her to another replacement girl who will soon lose her lustre as well. This cycle of polyamorous tension will become self-defeating and self-destructive at the heels and costs of womens' hearts, frazzled and dashed by scorned in-between, expired lovers and relationships gone awry because of the downward scale of interest. Maybe this means I need to evaluate what a girlfriend is to me and what distinguishes a wife from a girlfriend, because it seems that a girlfriend provides me with titillation and trophy couple status while a wife provides me with socioeconomic stability and preservation of lineage. I do hope to get married to one sole wife who I will dedicate my life to, but I don't see this happening before I hit 35 years of age. This provides me adequate time to "fool around" and to explore my opportunities (heterosexually). Hien told me that she wants to find someone to share her life with too, but I too wonder whether she wants her soulmate for keeps or for trial period. I know that Julianna is in a position where she fears she won't find someone that is the right fit for her. She is distanced by the reactions of her pseudo-friends who claim to be her friends but leave her out when events come up. She has reacted to this by thinking Did I do something wrong, and Why am I always the one to care too much and get backhanded at the end? It is absolutely unfair that her generosity and permeable consideration does not reciprocate unto her.
I saw the poster "If anyone wants to talk about anything, please call me..." taped on a bus stop outside of my college this morning. I could not help but take a picture because its message tugged at my heart with such yield and force. I felt a cavernous roar within my belly informing me of my similar state of void and lost-ness. The poster told me that there might be people out there who are lonely, especially when the person who signed the poster wrote "Mark, one lonely guy." Beryl's cynicism chimed in; he said that maybe this Mark is trying to sell something. My gut reaction was that this Mark person wants to chat, and that's his solitary goal, to talk to someone in New York City area who wouldn't mind shelling out a few minutes with a stranger. Keep in mind my friend Thomas's mantra that we were all strangers once in our lives. We were all once strangers, even from the womb. It is only through socialization that babies realized their ma-mas and da-das. What makes this poster so special for me is because of its intention which is similar to my intention, but I never actualized it in a form of a poster. What's cynically eerie about this poster is the fact that it could be a pervert or an old junkie seeking victims who call him, unbeknownst to his actual identity. Whatever his motive is, I can't be sure. But I can be sure of my initial gut reaction which was supreme intimacy, but not really pity. While others pity and ridicule this lonely Mark for being extremely pathetic, I think that Mark portrays a wanting to banish the inner loneliness that New Yorkers face on a daily basis, only accumulated in their jaded outlooks. This inner loneliness is also part of our imagined community (Benedict Anderson's theory that we can imagine our community, e.g. "Repping Brooklyn!") and our collective conscience (Durkheim theory of something standing above us and dictates us).
What I fail to understand is how I could be so stubborn and not understanding that my friends have finals to study for and homework to cram. Their absence to one single party does not reveal their nasty intentions or commit their repulsion towards me. What I fail to do is to chill out; I fail to make light of the situation, get over it, and most importantly, move on with my friggin life the way Beryl does, the way Gwen does, the way Pam does, when all my friends are stuck in a hump of inactivity. Just because I don't have homework remaining and two papers to complete by the end of the month, it doesn't mean I can wipe this liberal sense of school on everyone's agenda. I can't suppose that because I am free and I get the time to call my friends, then it makes it obligatory for my friends to call me and check up on me. And if they don't they are heartless and nasty. This is incoherent because it fails to ask whether of friends are actually busy or not; it fails to take into consideration their busy schedules, instead I impose my own schedule on theirs and want them to cater to my schedule. In this process I eradicate all of their exams and study times and only consider my interests in hearing from them. Also my disinterest in asking how many exams my friends have indicate the lack of care for them and the lack of actual consideration for their exams.
If there is one thing I want at this very moment, it would be a stranger to hug me and to hold my hand, unbiased, untainted, untouched by the pollution of this cynical cityscape and unblemished by the taciturn makeup.
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