I believe the national day for poetry has come and gone without me posting anything – mostly because I’ve been in a mad rush to stock up on DIY materials before all the stores are shut down.
And with each day, my sense of dread and doom increases as I see no escape from the rising wave of COVID-19. We’re all gonna get it. What’s more scary, we might already have it and are asymptomatic. We might have given it to someone by touching a handle. We might have inadvertently caused someone to give it to their elderly nana or their young’uns.
So I’m clapping at all the people who self-isolate, who can stay the fuck at home, who are responsible enough not to touch anything all while scrubbing my hands every chance I get singing “Staying alive” by the Bee Gees.
I watched a movie this weekend – French, 2018 – about a serial killer that would target Gay people who appeared in cheap pornos. Badly acted, filled with absolutely forgettable characters (both the actual movie and the movie within the movie), it did offer one good insight.
When the leading lady fails to seduce the film editor, Lois, she screams at her from the top of her badly-acted voice, that she loves her and has done so for quite some many years.
I’ve loved you this hard for 10 years. I never thought I could love this hard, this long. This love is too much for me. It’s too powerful. I’m terrified of losing you. It’s driving me insane! You can’t refuse a love like this. It’s criminal. You must love me. Love me. Love me, love me!
So I started thinking. Why do some people think they’re entitled to another person’s love and affection just because they think it’s deserved? Love goes both ways, so does attraction, and when one side is coming on too strong, you have psychopathic behaviour forming. Stalking. Love bombing. Manipulation and threats from either harming someone else or their own self.
Yes, it’s painful if you’re the one who’s actually loving. Yes, it’s frustrating. But take it from the other side’s point of view. It’s not their fault if they don’t reciprocate the feelings. It’s hard – but you have to move on. Find things to do with your family and friends. Block them – out of sight, out of mind. Don’t push it or they will pull away.
“Love is something which should find you, instead of you searching for it.” The more you search, the more it gets delayed.
Rejection is never easy but knowing how to limit the psychological damage it inflicts, and how to rebuild your self-esteem when it happens, will help you recover sooner and move on with confidence when it is time for your next date or social event.
Unfortunately, the greatest damage rejection causes is usually self-inflicted. Indeed, our natural response to being dumped by a dating partner or getting picked last for a team is not just to lick our wounds but to become intensely self-critical. We call ourselves names, lament our shortcomings, and feel disgusted with ourselves. In other words, just when our self-esteem is hurting most, we go and damage it even further. Doing so is emotionally unhealthy and psychologically self-destructive yet every single one of us has done it at one time or another.
Guess who’s hooked on the new season of BoJack Horseman? While I think I’ll make a later post discussing the views of “toxic masculinity” and “Hollywood media accusing established actors for past transgressions” another time, there was a scene in the new season which absolutely blew me out of the water. One of my role-models (Lovely Efficient Judah) sings for one of my other role-models (super-efficient and ambitious Princess Carolyn) and confesses his feelings in a very unconventional manner. I was 🙂 and could not believe it was happening. They should make an amazing match.
Here I am rooting for the love of two fictional characters again!
I don’t usually post family stuff online (I know too much about what exposure can get you and it’s not all good things) but sometimes I like to draw attention to a little country in the East of Europe who is mostly badmouthed on the news but still has a lot to offer when you visit.
After Quasimodo’s death, the bishop of the Cathedral of Notre Dame sent word through the streets of Paris that a new bell ringer was needed. The bishop decided that he would conduct the interviews personally and went up into the belfry to begin the screening process. After observing several applicants demonstrate their skills, he had decided to call it a day.
Just then, an armless man approached him and announced that he was there to apply for the bell ringer’s job. The bishop was incredulous.
“You have no arms!”
“No matter,” said the man. “Observe!”
And he began string the bells with his face, producing a beautiful melody on the carrilon. The bishop listened in astonishment, convinced he had finally found a replacement for Quasimodo.
But suddenly, rushing forward to strike a bell, the armless man tripped and plunged headlong out of the belfry window to his death in the street below.
The stunned bishop rushed to his side. When he reached the street, a crowd had gathered around the fallen figure, drawn by the beautiful music they had heard only moments before. As they silently parted to let the bishop through, one of them asked,
“Bishop, who was this man?”
“I don’t know his name,” the bishop sadly replied, “but his face rings a bell.”