Wednesday, 10 June 2009

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  Every Year Has Thirteen Junes

  It’s June and that traditionally heralds the beginning of wedding season.  If you were born between the years of 1974 and 1980, then that probably means that you will a) be getting married sometime within the next three months, b) be attending at least two weddings within the next three months, or c) be spending the next three months pondering why you are not getting married.  I am part of groups “b” and “c”.  This depresses me, but I don’t really know why.  It might have something to do with the fact that every other single 30something-year-old I know is either rushing to get married or panicking about the possibility of being single forever.  Some of these people have even resorted to internet dating on sites such as Match.com, only to realize that, for some reason, these websites seem to only attract beautiful and attractive psychopaths.  I don’t understand technology.

  I doubt I’ll ever get married, and it’s not because I don’t want to.  It’s probably because I take this love business too seriously, and I’m fully aware of my own shortcomings.  I’ve always felt that trying to define love is like listening to a Red Hot Chili Peppers song.  If you listen to Anthony Kiedis sing, he sounds like a babbling lunatic.  (Really.  Listen what he sayo.)   But, if you put it in the context of a song, he sounds kind of cool and poetic, and people enjoy it.  So, if I had to formulate a definition of love, it would be this:  Love is the realization that someone else’s existence is more important than your own.  This may or may not sound like the ravings of a lunatic.  I’m sure many people feel that the ultimate expression of love is to sacrifice your own life for someone else.  That’s certainly a noble thing to do, and I’m sure most people would constitute that as love.  But, to value someone else’s life as more important than your own implies that you consciously know how much you value your own life, and that’s an issue that I wrestle with everyday.

  As a despondent individual, I’m constantly struggling with the value of my self-worth.  Because of events that have happened to me, I’ve chosen to spend the last five years of my life distant and reclusive.  Perhaps the best way to understand one’s own life is to appreciate being alone.  True fulfillment can only be found within yourself.  The ability to be at peace with yourself when you are lonely is the ultimate appreciation of self-worth.  It’s almost as if loneliness is a privilege.  I read a famous book in my early college days called The Fountainhead, and, in a nutshell, it was about a lonely, non-conformist architect who stuck to his guns when the rest of the world was trying to destroy him.  (Of course, he was vindicated in the end, and the world became a better place.)  That book left a deep imprint in my psyche on the beauty of being alone in the universe.  I think that that was what that book was about, but I’m not sure.  How the hell should I know?  I’m not Ayn Rand.

  The problem is that the world doesn’t embrace loneliness, despite the fact that loneliness fosters self awareness.  Most people don’t like being lonely and that’s understandable; loneliness is depressing.  Because of this, people seek relationships for companionship.   People want to find a partner who can make them happy.  They want someone who can define them.  They want someone who can complete them and give their life some worth and meaning.  And when they find that person, they convince themselves that they’ve fallen in love.  But all of that is stuff that you have to find within yourself.  If you’re in a relationship because of the way it makes you feel, then you’re in it for all the wrong reasons.  Loving with reason is nothing more than loving with a stipulation.  However, if loving without reason brings happiness, then that is its own reward.

  Someone should put that in the context of a song.

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