Advice

"I always pass on advice. That is the only thing to do with it. It is never any use to oneself."
-Oscar Wilde

I've talked to plenty of people about their pre-college breakups, and when I do, I make an effort to be honest; most of the time, I feel like holding onto futile hopes is worse than having no hope at all.

It was only after last Saturday that I realized just how right Oscar Wilde was.

See, I used to pride myself on being a decent friend to talk to for advice because I'm realistic and rational.

It never hit me that the only reason I can be so rational is because I'm never talking about myself. I care about his/her feelings, yes. But no matter what, in the end, I'm not the one who actually has to deal with the problem. I'm just that annoying backseat driver that spews out logic and reasoning, comforting or not.

What I'm getting at is, the last two days have been a lot more painful than I'd like to admit. I've tried to comfort myself with my own medicine, but hell, it seems my heart just doesn't feel like listening to my brain right now.

Ryan, who is supposedly the stone-cold logician that listens only to reason, has rejected his self-proclaimed lifeblood in favor of his emotions.

I don't consider myself rational anymore. I've merely been that infuriating voice in the back of the classroom, blurting out all of the answers incessantly, yet suddenly going silent and quivering the moment I get moved to the front and have to deal with the pressure.

No, I'm not rational. I'm just as driven by my emotions as anyone.

No one is truly rational.

You're so weird.

I don't think people in high school school realized this, but I actually take it as a compliment when people call me weird. Yeah, maybe I'd rather be deemed "chill, awesome, super nice" or whatever buzzwords are flying around at the the time. But I know I'm not any of the above.

See, at the very least, being weird (and embracing it) means that you're not too worried about being different. And based on my admittedly short existence, that's the kind of person I tend to find more interesting.

No, I'm not a hipster.

It's eerily similar to why I also consider calling someone a dork to be a compliment. If urbandictionary is to be trusted, a dork is "Someone who has odd interests, and is often silly at times. A dork is also someone who can be themselves and not care what anyone thinks."

Of course, it's not like I've enjoyed the company of every weird person or dork that I've met. But you have to admit: in their own little way, these kinds of people have a certain kind of confidence -- a good confidence.

And I guess that, because I've met so many people with the other kinds of confidence (arrogance for example), I find the weirdos and dorks to be refreshing.

In conclusion, I'm weird.

Romanticizing

"Or love in general, for that matter. It just leads to the idea that either your love is pure, perfect, and eternal, and you are storybook-compatible in every way with no problems, or you're LYING when you say I love you."


Yeah, I found the comic pretty funny, especially since one of my friends seems to fit into that panel quite well. But the mouse over text (the quote underneath the comic) was a lot more interesting to me.


To be clear, he's not saying that we should freely say the phrase "I love you" to just anyone. He's not trying to criticize society for holding something as finicky and abstract as love on a high pedestal.

He is pointing out the problem with romanticizing love. And by romanticize, he doesn't mean being romantic or mushy; he means taking love and running it though seven different hair stylists and makeup artists, then topping it off with a Photoshop session so that the end result is unblemished and, well, perfect.

- too perfect.

It's become very apparent over the last few months that we disagree on a number of things. But I'm totally fine with that; if anything, I enjoy it. It makes our conversations a lot more lively and engaging. As much as we like our opinions to be affirmed, a wall that just echoes every word doesn't make for very interesting conversation.

It didn't come as a surprise to me that we disagree on love and marriage. She believes in perfect, ideal marriages filled with equally perfect, eternal love. She says it's a girl thing, that it's every girl's guilty dream to grow up to find a perfect man. And I can respect that.

I thought about it though, and I realized that I've never really believed in perfect marriages or perfect love. For as long as I can remember, my opinion on it hasn't really changed one way or the other. But I don't think that's just because I've always been pragmatic my entire life, or because my parents raised me to be skeptical of perfect love.

I've never believed in perfect love because I don't want it to be perfect. I don't want love to be eternal, to be wholly unconditional and unbreakable.

Because if that's true, then what's stopping you from taking it for granted? Your infatuation?

Hah. Infatuation.


No, I want love to be fragile. I want it to be challenging -- a struggle, if you will.
I want it to be something worth fighting for - long after I already found it.

Because perfection isn't beautiful.
Pain is.