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Posts Tagged ‘emotions’

  1. Irreversible

    December 1, 2011 by A.

    Human feelings will always be flimsy because they are reversible – what was once endearing can easily become detestable by any given catalyst. This is because they cannot, no matter how idealized, be regarded beyond their being conditional.

    As such, human emotions are best measured (and expressed) not according to their current side of the dichotomy – love or disgust? – but to their relative location in the spectrum that runs the gamut of neutral affective intensities. Neutral, because experiences only really color them, not because they have any intrinsic quality prior to the contexts in which they are summoned.

    To say that one strongly feels for another – as opposed to exclusively expressing only either affection or disgust, for instance  – is more comprehensive as it gives due credit to the complexity (and simplicity) that informs human expression and invokes the universal duality of things, instead of presupposing color onto everything thereby mistakenly regarding them as pure (in their color). It simply recognizes the ability of everything to be regarded both ways, as a source of both elation and misery.

    Apart from recognizing duality, such an understanding will also render it unnecessary to resort to reversals – for instance, eventually demonizing what was once pure (and vice versa), or hating what was once endearing (and vice versa), when certain circumstances arise to effect such changes in regard. It eliminates having to “turn bitter” as per request by sturdily built defense mechanisms in lieu of a more enlightened manner of seeing.

    As for the quip most brandished by individuals who think it clever mainly for its opposition to a cliche (which, unknown to some, has placed it on the very same rank with the number of people “cleverly” echoing it):

    Love is not the opposite of indifference. Love is a colored affective intensity on one side of the dichotomy. Indifference is a level of emotive intensity. Therefore, the opposite of love is hate. And the opposite of indifference is a deep, substantial regard for something or someone, whether it be colored by specific human experience as love or hate.

    Embracing the duality of your affections makes it easier to embrace the duality of the object of your affection, invariably making it easier to accept the qualities that hurt you, time and again, at every reversal.

    Because most things, when they happen, are irreversible. And all things, regardless of human regard, perish.

     


  2. No such thing as loving in vain

    March 22, 2006 by A.

    Talked about the nature of Vanity in his car on the way to his house. It was fueled by this topic being discussed on the radio, about flirting while in a relationship, whether it was okay or not. As always, our conversation began with our disparate views on the topic, (me thinking it was normal and him saying it wasn’t), and eventually leading us to isms and other related things like perspective, religion, upbringing, then dichotomies, then strangely, patriarchy, colonization, and oppression.
    Our conversation outlasted the radio show.

    Then he asked me if I wanted to drink, in spite of the fact that we were both already very sleepy as we had only slept for two hours the night before because of… well, personal needs.
    Anyway, we were as heavy-eyed as we were light-hearted. Finished two pitchers of beer and spent the entire night sprawled on the carpet, holding each other with tipsy arms, laughing away to F.R.I.E.N.D.S. on DVD, and taking turns going to the restroom. I had always wanted this, to drink with him as if in celebration of our quotidian love, and letting him hold me as if I were the smallest tipsy creature crying over Joey and Chandler when they fought over a woman.

    We woke up at around 5 in the afternoon already. I am filled with the vanity of giving love.

    “And not a vanity is given in vain.” -Alexander Pope


  3. The erotic vandal writes—-

    March 8, 2006 by A.

    I touch myself in his room when he is away, imagining us, recreating the scene of our lovemaking, modifying it, if only to be able to say I have come here, in this space, with him. This is how I’ve been in love: Feigning pleasure when all I feel is dissatisfaction; feeling my self, my presence, when I know I am secondary; so that I can say yes, I have a meaningful relationship. And so I often wonder how long I could keep up with this performance. I was born a performer this way, and I never forget to perform my sadness with style—it is only when I find myself losing it that I question myself and my place here with him. Sometimes I see myself in another place, a place of tenderness, kindness. Otherwise, I lose myself to his treatment and oftentimes, believe it to be tender. I am very good at believing in things. I enjoy being his, if only for a good performance’s sake. Yes, enjoy. Because joy, from the Greek word juoy, means to come. And I never come with him when we make love. I only know to come to him.