And so it goes

I was never much a fan of existentialism, the movement itself and the literature it spawned bored me to near death. I couldn't ever appreciate the idea that there wasn't a point except that there wasn't a point. Okay, so I might be oversimplifying things slightly but reading Beckett's "Waiting for Godot" might cause me extreme physical pain if not cause me to spontaneously combust. Ever since I was a wee little one, books, stories, TV shows, movies, plays, etc that were with little description, set in one place, without proper character development, and other devices which usually add to a story, terrified me. I could not handle the idea of confinement of a character to one city or one way of life. In example, that one movie where Jim Carey plays a character whose life is a TV show...can't watch it. I think it conflicts with my instinct of fight or flight since I would hands down always choose flight.

Okay, so what the heck does this have to do with anything. Nothing, except this behavior is a good explanation of what is at the core of my being. Last night I was trying to remember what is was like to be in love, to care about someone unconditionally, to have that queasy feeling in your stomach, to want to spend every moment of your existence with one person. Believe it or not, I know what it's like and at times, like last night, I kind of miss it. Years ago, back in high school land, I would have bet you my life that I knew who I was going to marry. And at the time, I was perfectly content with that idea and even after a year of continuing our relationship in college land I thought I still knew. Now, I am well aware of how wrong I was, but that is beside the point. I guess I can never really know if I loved him or the idea of having someone love me. The words did feel right but now I can't believe I was so careless with them.

Between then and now I've dated my fair share of the population of the greater Twin Cities and have yet to find any semblance of love. I'm not sure if this is a result of being more guarded with my feelings or just that my soul mate is hiding from me in the Himalayas, praying to Buddha that I can't mountain climb worth shit. A lot of my dating escapades have been the unfortunate result of mere convenience, with me participating little in the selection process. Pretty much all of my relationships have been a result of some guy's friends daring him to approach me or one of my friends attempting to set me up. Perhaps I should be more active in my pursuit of a suitable mate, I mean if I am going to have expectations then I should take some responsibility. That my dear friends is why I am going to work less. Well more generally, I just want to have a life but if love becomes a by-product of my reduced pay check then I am okay with it.

Okay, at one point I was planning on relating my dating life to the theories of existentialism. And in effect they might as well be the same thing. The same people, the same activities, over and over again. That isn't what I want my life to be like, so I am going to do something about it, like learn how to mountain climb.