Man's Fixation with Order

I have always believed that people believe in God and organized religion because they need some systematic way of looking at the world. People look to churches, synagogues, temples, and all manner of religious leaders and disciples to help give meaning and order to life. Reading a book on writing, Gotham Writers' Workshop's Writing Fiction tome, and its chapter "Revision: Real Writers Revise" by Peter Selgin, I found this great quote that I'm just so excited to share:

"For damning evidence of man's fixation with order look no farther than heaven; what are the constellations, but tidy boxes in which we've shelved the stars? The Big Dipper is cosmic fiction."

Before this, Selgin wrote that he writes fiction for the same reason some people believe in God: "to give meaning and order to life, or at least give it some shape here and there. Like many people, I'm uncomfortable with chaos and disorder."

Coincidentally, this is the reason (or really, one of several) why I write. Certainly one of the benefits of writing is the ability to make things happen the way you think they should, whether you make happy endings or more realistic, less fairy tale endings.

Predestination

Today I have been given much reason to think about cosmic signs and destiny. Usually when I have to make a choice, I look for cosmic signs to tell me which choice to make. Today, I took a chance on prom dress shopping. I thought if I find the perfect dress at the perfect price, I'll bite the bullet, pay for prom (pretty late...) and just go alone. I found the perfect dress and it was the last one of that style at the store and then the attendant who was helping me put it back on the rack and by the time I realized it, it was gone! It was a sign! I'm not going to prom.

Little things like this happen all the time. And sometimes the signs aren't to help me make a decision, but just to get me somewhere to make something happen. I believe in fate, signs, and deja vu, too.

I have deja vu all the time. It's this vague feeling or flash that tells me I have been here, seen this, done this some time before or at least I've dreamed it. My theory is that we live our lives over and over again. The one variable in my theory that I haven't worked out and am having trouble working out is whether or not things change in each lap around the track. I guess this is the same as asking the question: Do you make your own destiny? I don't know... I'm so confused about it all... 

Call Me 'Snarky'

Three chief complaints about people:

First of all, I am sick to death of girls who are my friend and will speak to me only when we are alone together. The same person of whom the former is true ignores me when she's having a bad day. I will not apologize for thinking that friendship is not just for the sunny days. When a friend is having a bad day and if I can't fix her problems, I always try to get her mind on other things. When I am having a bad day, I may not hide it, but I do not take it out on my so-called friends. That's just shitty. I AM SICK OF BEING SHIT ON BY PEOPLE.

Secondly, I am tired of people who avoid confrontation at all costs. I am not one for confrontation; I will admit it and I have admitted it, but when something seriously needs to be confronted, especially if I am in the position where I can ease the struggle, I attack the problem like a mad dog. I dislike hurting feelings, but if I was in the position where something true and seriously problematic needs to be aired, I would do it and not sit around wondering how I can not hurt anybody because they might be too weak to handle the blow to their ego that they so rightly deserve. I have been in a situation that has needed confrontation and the person of authority who is in the position to and has the responsibility to solve the problem has avoided dealing with it because he doesn't want to upset the idiot that has been fucking things up.

Third and lastly, I am enraged by one person (Bell) who has taken no responsibility or received no punishment for her negligence and who, in standing up for one single solitary moment to shoulder the burden which was meant to be shared with her partner, has relieved herself of the possibility of termination from her post. So I have resigned. Let Bell see how she likes the fucking pressure I have had for nearly a year with putting that publication together. She thinks she's been pressured all year? I'm the one who shouldered the fucking burden all by myself, day in, day out, night after night like Atlas, son of Lapetus, a Titan who was made to carry the world on his shoulders for warring with Zeus. I am the one who put in a million outside hours and ran myself around that school building, getting approval for one thing or another. She doesn't know the meaning of the word "pressure." I hope Bell falls flat on her face, that disgusting and ignorant ass.

I am still all ticked off but this is the end of my ranting for one evening.

Perfection: Perception Vs. Reality

People are essentially flawed. I know this and I hope you've realized it by now. That's why, in working on my new novel, when my protagonist came across a guy who started out as just a hookup but has come to read like the perfect guy, I got worried. The character is flawed, but since he's hooked up with my protagonist, he's only looked perfect and I'm afraid that what readers will take away from this is that one person can complete another. I am very wary of giving anyone this impression because even if it happens every now and then, it goes against my beliefs to write an example of such an instance.

I doubt very much that one person can "complete" another because I think that despite the fact that we, as humans, have flaws, we are complete persons. We might feel that we have holes, but these are essential to the human condition, I think. If none of us felt like something was missing, if we all have perfect lives, we would get quite bored quite quickly. If there was nothing to send us hurtling through life, no feelings or illusions of emptiness, nothing would ever change. Immanuel Kant believed life is the continual struggle to achieve perfection and once this was achieved, the universe might cease to exist. I'm really starting to believe it.

So to solve the dilemma of not appearing to tell people that it takes one person to complete another, I texted my friend Jenny, who I've known since middle school and who in freshman year was the first to read my first attempt to write a novel. I told Jenny that I thought the guy is too perfect and she asked if she should come up with some flaws for me. I told her it's weird because I've shown him to be flawed and I will show other flaws later on, but I feel like he's too perfect with my protagonist and I worry about the message that could send. Jenny eventually said, "It means that everyone is flawed but when you meet the right person, they see only the good so therefore you seem perfect."

It made amazing sense. Perception of perfection is completely different from the reality or presence of perfection. God, Jenny's a genius!

Frogs

Yes, I will always be just a little sad when I see a couple with chemistry out and about. But I am so tired of feeling like, at 17 (!), I am missing out on something because I don't have a boyfriend. You know, because I don't have some asshole who has greasy, too-long hair and lying eyes and who is shabbily dressed, saying he loves me while he paws at my clothes and pushes my head southward because all he really cares about is getting his. They are all like this; at least all of the ones I have met. Why would I need a relationship with one of these ill-mannered, non-hygienic fools to be complete?

The thing is I don't need one!

Every time a special girl friend of mine gets involved with a guy, he breaks down the walls she's so carefully built around her, gets inside her skin, her heart, her head, and then he breaks her. I'm the one who sweeps all the pieces up and Krazy glues them back together until that special girl, the one who was perfect before Jackass came along, can re-fire the pieces and fix what Jackass broke. I don't want to let some guy get in that deep. I do not want to fall apart and wait to see who will help pick up the pieces.

I guess it's kind of sad that I think any and all relationships could end this way, but I prefer to think of it as realistic. See, someday, a good, smart, strong man will come along and while I understand it's fun to kiss a bunch of frogs, there's no point in trying to date a bunch of frogs. Just kiss them, have fun, and move on. Don't try to make it last. Don't put effort into it.

Someday, I hope, the right guy will come along and I'll just know. Hopefully, this great guy will love me right away and see the real me. I'm just hoping...

Reverse Prejudice

Every year I have been in school, I have learned about prejudice throughout human history. I have studied, again and again, about the most referenced example of prejudice: that against black Americans on the part of white Americans. What no one tends to talk about is this: there is a counter-prejudice to this. I call it reverse prejudice.

There are actually two kinds of reverse prejudice as I see them.

Reverse prejudice #1: Black Americans (not all of them, obviously) are sometimes against white people, as if every white girl and white boy they deal with is responsible for the god awful shit that some old racist white people put them (well, usually their ancestors) through. I have never been prejudice and I have never made comments about someone's race or anything like that. This has always hurt my sense of justice, that people could lay blame like an oversize quilt over the whole of a race. It does not seem fair at all.

Reverse prejudice #2: This has only really come to my attention lately. It is when a white girl or white boy dates only black boys or black girls. How weird is that? Vin finally, after MONTHS of flirting with me, told me that he only likes black girls. He is Italian and English and Scottish or something. It blows my mind that he is only into black girls. (Not that there is anything wrong with this, it just blows my mind!) It has occurred to me that maybe he lied. Maybe he just said that as an easy out. But I would rather just believe him although the truth seems so twisted in my mind.

This Rose Has its Thorns (A Letter)

This letter is for all prospective suitors so that everyone one of them knows fully what they are getting themselves into, although I guess one could argue that because I do not plan on delving into the more positive things about my person that I am not keeping them fully abreast of everything.

******************

Dear _________,

I feel I must apologize for the fact that I am a mess. I am, simply put: intense, emotional, feisty, occasionally vindictive, introspective, inquisitive, occasionally stubborn but generally not, intelligent, dark, quick with a "burn," and I see too many flaws in people to be completely trusting or sociable.

One problem is I do not know who I am, or at least, I feel like I do not and so I will probably be constantly searching for who I am. As long as I feel like this, I will probably always question who you are and what I am doing with you and where it's all going. It will probably be very tiring for you and it will surely be tiring for me whether you notice me doing it or not.

Another thing is I really do not know what I want from a guy. It's the result of a lot of personal history. After all of the times I have been hurt by a guy, and after seeing all of the women I love get hurt by guys, I honestly distrust guys in general and, mostly, I distrust myself when I am with a guy.

Sure, you are not all the same. Sure, you are not going to hurt me. Sure, you love me or care for me or just think you could. Whatever. Whether you do it on purpose or not, you will hurt me. You will ignore me for a week or cheat or dump me for your ex or just leave when I need you and I will feel like I could die. I will ask myself how I could have let my world revolve around you. I am a lot stronger than I used to be, but not half as strong as what I need to be to be good in a relationship. Or maybe I am underestimating myself. Maybe I am too strong and I will not be the kind of girl you want. I used to be too amenable and self-sacrificing. I think this time, I will stick to my guns and I will not give in to anyone else's desires unless they match mine to the letter.

See, whichever way it plays out, I will be all wrong for you.

Also, I have a problem with letting people in. Either I will reveal too much too soon and you will run or I will wait too long to let you in and you will run away before I can (or you'll run away after I do and after you have determined that it wasn't worth the wait). My mom says I have not let anyone in lately and I do not understand. I have tried to be frank and still funny and I have tried to be understanding and fair and calm and it has gone awry. People always run from me.

My luck, you are the best kind of guy. You are the one (ONE!) guy on earth who knows how to respect a girl and how to love her and when to put her desires before your own. And now that I have found you (or now that you have found me), I have been through a bunch of bad ones and I no longer know how to be the right girl for you. Just my stupid luck.

Well, maybe I am all wrong as I sit here writing this. Maybe I am complete in your arms. Maybe I am the good girl I have always been. Maybe with you, unlike with anyone before you, I have figured out the perfect balance of slow and quick, or emotion and calm, of serious and fun. I kind of hope that this is all true, but I don't know if that's good enough for me. I do not think I can be okay with figuring out that it takes a man to make me a better person...

See what I meant about how messed up I am?

Sincerely,

Vered

Repression and Double Standards

I have been thinking lately about how repressed female sexuality is in today's society. It really should not come as a shock; the hypocrisy of lauding men who have sex freely and in turn criticizing women who do the same is fairly well noted, I think. But it goes further than that.

Young women are called promiscuous and are deemed to be "asking for it" if they are at all sensual or even just exploring the full meaning of their sexuality.

Furthermore, young women, most of whom are probably confused about their sexuality, can never be sure of what men want. Some guys want a girl with promiscuity out the ass and these same guys won't take seriously the same girl. It makes me think of Jena Malone's line "It's all too much to live up to," in Saved! She was referring to the strict rules laid down by the Father who was principal at her school and his interpretation of Christianity, but her words could truly apply to male expectations of women.

Other guys just screw you over, play games with your head and throw you away like a dirty tissue. I haven't yet met a good guy who was honest from the start about what he wants. I honestly do not think they exist. Mom said even at her age, male-female relationships are more about game-playing than they should be. It's sickening because I know what I want and I do not hesitate to go for it and I despise games, so obviously I have no luck with guys.

Honestly, and Dad, you can stop reading now, I just want to mess around a little bit. I want the freedom to explore my body and the bodies of others. I do not want to be labeled in a negative way for something that is completely natural, nor do I want to live a life confined to the expectations or limitations of others. That would be living a stunted, boring, noncreative life.

I am frank and I want to explore things and I refuse to be apologetic anymore... Just some thoughts.

By the way, that jerk Vin never called and did not reply to my text today. I am done being played with. I am not a toy, nor should I be. I do not exist to be his or anyone's play thing. I may have many queries about the nature of existence, but this is one thing I am positive of.

I just wish above all that there did not exist this double standard for men and women and that women did not have to quiet things like their sexual identity. That's the world I want to live in.

This is Dangerous

I am dangerously close to wanting nothing more than a boy... a certain boy with a cute smile, a nice body, and the rare ability to make me laugh, really laugh. It is beyond taboo for me to like him since he and a certain one of my ex-best friends went on a date once or so I've been told. It isn't even completely clear whether this guy--I will call him Vin, short for "Vincenzo" and evoking the image of Vin Diesel (just about the sexiest man on earth)--thinks I am anything special. See, he is totally the kind of person to flirt with anyone and everyone, but he has been flirting with me for nearly 9 months! If he's not at all interested, he would have stopped flirting quite some time ago, no?

Last night, I was out with friends and Vin was working. At our table, there were my two friends Tanya and Amy and Tanya's friend Kurt and his friend Brad, both of whom are Coast Guards. Vin kept flirting with me in front of all of them and I can't help but flirt back. I felt guilty because Brad was supposed to be my date, although I've never met him or Kurt before. Vin asked what we were doing or maybe it was Twin, another server I know who asked, and when I said we were going to the movies after dinner, he asked why I never ask him to the movies. That is such shit, too, since I asked him to see The Dark Knight and other movies and he would consent but never actually go with me.

Eventually we were heading out and Vin asked me about the day that I had my breakdown in the restaurant. He said he had seen me and didn't realize who I was until he was driving away and Twin told him it was me... The rest of our party went out to the doors and I lingered for a few moments to talk to Vin. I tried to talk seriously to him about his movie comment and he just made jokes.

When I got home last night--er, early this morning--I was texting while exhausted (probably nearly as regrettable as texting when intoxicated though I wouldn't know a single thing about that) and sent Vin a text asking him to call me today. Then I slept till noon and now it's 9:15 pm and he hasn't called. I am trying to remember that Vin has probably been working all day, is still working, and does not want to call while he is at work, yet I cannot help feeling like he will not call because he doesn't like me.

I hate these mind games that I feel so much the victim of. I am a beautiful, intelligent girl who should be worshipped and adored by a million guys and my ego is seriously wounded that I am not worshipped and adored, let alone that I never get the guys I want. I don't even want a serious, till-death commitment. I'm not looking for marriage. I really just want a friend I can have fun with and kiss and the fact that I even want or need this much from a guy scares me. So why in the hell would I want commitment?

Maybe all of this is just the innate desire most humans feel for that which they are not supposed to want, need, or have. Maybe I should stick with this thought and I will eventually overcome my want for Vin.

Rasa

I have been reading about this viewer-response theory of art called rasa in Vidya Dehejia's Indian Art book and I find it so fascinating. According to Dehejia, the concept originated some 1,500 years ago and was written in Bharata's work titled Natya shastra (which means "Science of Dance"). Basically, when it comes to art, "aesthetic experience rests not with the work of art, nor with the artist who created it, but with the viewer." The responsive viewer is called rasika.

Dehejia goes on and says, "Literally, rasa means the juice or extract of a fruit or vegetable; it implies the best or finest part of a thing. In the aesthetic context, rasa refers to a state of heightened awareness evoked by the contemplation of a work of art, drama, poetry, music or dance. A performance is criticized as ni-rasa (without rasa) or praised as rasavat (imbued with rasa)."

Further on: "The erotic sentiment of shringara, described as king of rasas, has a high visibility in the fine arts. The other eight rasas are the comic or hasya, the pathetic or karuna, the furious or raudra, the heroic or vira, the terrible or bhayanaka, the odious or bibhatasa, the wondrous or adbhuta and the quiescent or shanta."

In the context of Indian history, Dehejia writes, "The cultivation of rasa seems to have been an intellectual and emotional experience that was completely available to only the sophisticated segment of the population."

It occurs to me that most people today have the opportunity to experience this heightened awareness just by reading a book or watching a play or staring at a piece of art and so many do not appear to take advantage of it. I wonder if so many of the people who appear to me to be very shallow and unquestioning, even sometimes unfeeling, could really be so. If fewer people than I think are really so shallow, unquestioning, and unfeeling, then too often people put on unbecoming charades.

I wish I knew more people who are forthright about their appreciation for thought-provoking art and who could shed some light on their own awareness of life and the world. Am I really so different a kind of creature that few others feel the way I do?

Sometimes I am tempted to say, like Jean-Jacques Rousseau wrote in The Autobiography of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, "I am not made like anyone I have seen; I dare believe I am not made like anyone existing. If I am not better, at least I am quite different. Whether Nature has done well or ill in breaking the mould she cast me in, can be determined only after having read me." Yet, I do not think I could say this with a conscience, because my sole proof for saying it would be, as it appears Rousseau's sole proof was, that I have not met anyone quite like myself. Just because there is no proof that something exists, whether it be another being like myself or something else, does not ergo mean that it does not exist.

Back to the subject of rasa, I find it intriguing to try applying the concept to life in general. The aesthetic experience of life really rests in the person taking action and living that life not the person watching this other life. Then, again, who is to say that the beauty of one life does not lie in another's perception of it? Hmm...