So right now I am watching the E! True Hollywood Story of Courtney Love and thinking about men. Yup. Men. And not just any men. Men who I have known (no, not in the biblical sense) and talked to and thought about and such. It's wierd. My relationship with Matt is better now than it probably ever has been, but for some reason I continue to think about these people who I knew at some point. And not even in a sexual way (or even an admiring way). Just a dull wondering, with a bit of nostalgia and romanticism thrown in.
It's just this understanding, that, you know, people's lives go on. My life definitely moves on--I mean, everyday I'm doing something different, thinking different things, whatever. It's just weird that other people's lives move on. Without you. I mean, it is quite possible that I am a huge egoist, but it remains strange to me that people keep moving on even when you don't think about them anymore. I know this seems like a simple concept, but I mean, seriously. Think about it. People who were once so important to you, your raison d'etre if you will, now go through their days without ever thinking of that time you talked about Mili Vanilli or that time you took that acting class together. Isn't that weird? Things that used to be so important are now moot points, just little stopping points you made on the way to becoming who "you really are". It's just weird.
Take for instance my first real boyfriend, a total bastard. I don't miss this guy in the least, I mean, he was a bastard. But at one time, I thought this guy was it, that he was the "Kurt to my Courtney" (seriously, I used to think this way. I blame the liberal media.). And he thought the same about me. We talked about going to New York and living where I could (get this) act, and he could be in a band. Oh, our whole relationship was atrocious. But I swear, I think of him sometimes, and wonder what he's doing, if he's high right now, if he has a guitar in his hand, if he's listening to Nirvana. And it's weird. We're totally different now. We've moved on. And he probably never thinks about me, or that time that we went to go hear a band called Magnesium Mama and pondered about the possibilities of overdosing on Tylenol. But sometimes I think of him. Is this good or bad? Should I do that? I don't know. Maybe I'm strange. I just don't know.
I guess if I were smart, I would start a whole discussion here about memory and the formation of it, and love, and why we love certain people, and so forth. I'm not going to. Truth be told, I am going to watch this thing about Robert Johnson (who I am beginning to be obsessed with), and fold some towels. Fun, huh? I wonder if my former flames think of me doing shit like this, like folding towels and wiping the dried pasta sauce off the kitchen counter. Maybe they imagine me sitting in some light filled room, writing about them. Or maybe they don't imagine me at all. I prefer to think that they do, even if they imagine me doing ordinary things. Because you know, it's better to be thought of unfavorably than none at all (an awkward sentence I know, but you get the point).
It's just this understanding, that, you know, people's lives go on. My life definitely moves on--I mean, everyday I'm doing something different, thinking different things, whatever. It's just weird that other people's lives move on. Without you. I mean, it is quite possible that I am a huge egoist, but it remains strange to me that people keep moving on even when you don't think about them anymore. I know this seems like a simple concept, but I mean, seriously. Think about it. People who were once so important to you, your raison d'etre if you will, now go through their days without ever thinking of that time you talked about Mili Vanilli or that time you took that acting class together. Isn't that weird? Things that used to be so important are now moot points, just little stopping points you made on the way to becoming who "you really are". It's just weird.
Take for instance my first real boyfriend, a total bastard. I don't miss this guy in the least, I mean, he was a bastard. But at one time, I thought this guy was it, that he was the "Kurt to my Courtney" (seriously, I used to think this way. I blame the liberal media.). And he thought the same about me. We talked about going to New York and living where I could (get this) act, and he could be in a band. Oh, our whole relationship was atrocious. But I swear, I think of him sometimes, and wonder what he's doing, if he's high right now, if he has a guitar in his hand, if he's listening to Nirvana. And it's weird. We're totally different now. We've moved on. And he probably never thinks about me, or that time that we went to go hear a band called Magnesium Mama and pondered about the possibilities of overdosing on Tylenol. But sometimes I think of him. Is this good or bad? Should I do that? I don't know. Maybe I'm strange. I just don't know.
I guess if I were smart, I would start a whole discussion here about memory and the formation of it, and love, and why we love certain people, and so forth. I'm not going to. Truth be told, I am going to watch this thing about Robert Johnson (who I am beginning to be obsessed with), and fold some towels. Fun, huh? I wonder if my former flames think of me doing shit like this, like folding towels and wiping the dried pasta sauce off the kitchen counter. Maybe they imagine me sitting in some light filled room, writing about them. Or maybe they don't imagine me at all. I prefer to think that they do, even if they imagine me doing ordinary things. Because you know, it's better to be thought of unfavorably than none at all (an awkward sentence I know, but you get the point).
posted by Southern Belle at 12:10 PM
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