Sleep
I will sleep at a decent hour tonight. I swear.
Maybe.
And since you asked why yes, I do know that the quality of my blog of late has been total suckass. I will return to naval gazing soon enough but right now I’m too busy trying to kick a snoring lesbian out of my bed when she insists on stealing the covers. Actually, to be honest, it is I who is more guilty of such crimes in bedsheet thievery. It’s been like having a slumber party for 6 days straight except for the bikini lingerie pillow fights. No, really. Cheeky ain’t I? Of course, darling. Not much changes, honest.
Other random thoughts dujour:
…
*grin*.
I’ve recently had some thoughts on social dynamics and the notion of social “leagues”.”Oh sweetie, he’s soooo out of your league.” vs. “Why do they think I’m so intimidating” vs “Yeah… as if, scrub bunker.” I’m very much in a state of inconsistent answers on this one. At one point I recall coaching a friend and telling him that the notion of leagues was bullocks. Total bullocks. Dating structure was not a vertical hierarchy that is cut and dry like grandma’s poundcake. Granted, I still hold by that, but to deny the existence of certain social spheres with levels of hierarchy is equally naive and myopic, no? Perhaps.
Levels or social spheres that are semi-permeable (like cellular walls? I forgot my biology). Levels by ethnicity, by culture, by economics, by looks, profession, lifestyle, education, diction, and aspiration. Levels by interest, skills, fashion consciousness and if you watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer or not. Defining lines regarding political Fascism vs Shopping at the Gap. For some, Gay vs Not Gay Enough vs. Sparkle the Fairy Princess. Or perhaps with some generational/immigrant identity bridges ~ Korean American, but not Korean enough to have confident language proficiency or cultural attachment … yet not American enough to discount the fact that finding someone Korean matters significantly to me.
I remember being terribly intimidated while in love with my first boyfriend. On one hand, I had extreme standards for what I wanted in someone that I wanted to date. On the other, once I found someone who met those superficial standards, I found myself making exceptional accommodations because I felt like he was, in some respect, out of my league and that I should supplicate my reservations for the opportunity of dating him. Which is not to say that we didn’t genuinely care for each other, because we did. Of that I’m confident. I just think that my sense of self worth at the time was cloudy and muddled like jjigheh on the fifth day. He went to a better school than myself. He was a leader and folks looked up to him. He was a far stronger and more mature Christian than I. He was disciplined while I seemed random and capricious.
After we broke up, I tried to rationalize my worth in comparison to him, this time, trying to belittle him to mentally place myself in a league higher or different than his, if only by baby steps. Oh, he’s boring. He has no sense of adventure. He’s corny and has no joy in spontaneity. I’d be gnawing on my pencil for better physical stimulation than what he could give me (ok…that, in fact, was a total lie. The man could throw me off my feet and melt me into a puddle with a single kiss..just a kiss…and because he was such a strong Christian, it rattled my nerves and infuriated me to no end that I could never successfully seduce him beyond a few hours of holding hands & kissing).
I was still in that vertical hierarchy mindset. Terribly junior high school, no? More recently I’ve been thinking in the sense of opaque and translucent colors that represent the potential social dynamics/spheres/”leagues” that I run into. There are the work folks, the club folks, the organization folks, the artsy folks, the church folks, the sporty folks, the online folks, etc. And where do I fit in? Is it necessary to find someone in the same caliber in all those spheres? In any of them? Should I care? I’m not sure anymore. I just think that I am discovering that I am more confused than ever when it comes to such items and I hate the simple answers that I give that bely my attempts for greater social complexity.
If I am interested in someone and my friends ask about them, I’ll provide an answer based on the criterion that I imagine is necessary for them to pass into “their league”. “Oh he’s Christian…” “Oh, he’s hot…”, “Oh he drives this car…” “Oh he does this….” “Oh blah blah blah blah.”
What I want to say is “Oh, you know what? He’s really cool. He treats me well. I like talking to him. He’s tender & kind and I’m never bored or feel like I can’t be myself, even totally cranky, when I’m with him. He makes me laugh, and I have a little ray of sunshine in my heart after I hear from him”. But if I ever honestly answered like that, I’m afraid that half of my friends would follow up with the question “So…is he cute?”. Of course if I’m interested in someone they’re cute. They become cute in my eyes. Charming cute. Geeky cute. Punky cute. Jocky cute. Incorrigible cute.
I think that the character Max from Rushmore is cute. Not for physique certainly, but because of his intense talent for combining his passions with precision and execution. Of course he’s about as emotionally mature as a rutabaga but he comes around in the end and that’s what’s cute about him. I can’t help but think that I’m just as confused and odd as the ladies and gents over at BDB still, and here I am on the peanut gallery. Blind poking and chucking sharp stones at the blind, I tell you.
My funny valentine;
Sweet, comic valentine;
You make me smile with my heart.
Your looks are laughable;
Unphotographable;
Yet, you’re my favorite work of art.
Is your figure - less than Greek?
Is your mouth - a little weak?
When you open it to speak, are you smart?
Don’t change a hair for me;
Not if you care for me;
Stay, little valentine, stay!
Each day is valentine’s day.
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