Yellow Love

My dear friends, you need not be alarmed that herein you will find an accounting of one yellow Major falling in love and having all of the natural though sappy comments to make about such thing. In fact, it seems as if I am only looking for a way to explain myself, more for my benefit than for the entertainment of anyone else. I am at the end of it all one who enjoys communication, and the inability to correctly portray what I want said in the power or the raw and powerful spoken word begs me seek escape to the refined and editable (not edible, I know that editable is probably not a real word, but you get the idea.) world of the written. I am glad that we've been given such a medium. Otherwise all my emotions that are truly strong would probably be presented in a bumbling and incoherent manner. As you can tell, this is a more serious blog than others of my writing.

I begin by saying that each type of person seems especially susceptible to different types of love stages. In each of us there is a tendency to cling to something on our way to love, something inside us that begs to be seen, that refuses to be let go, and will cling to our very persona until we satiate the beast, placate it, or overcome it all together. The last is the hardest, when speaking of our innermost tendencies, the philosophies that we believe in on the edge of conscious thought, the type that never comes to light unless we analyze, unless we take time to step away from our emotions (something that I have still not achieved) and look objectively at the world. The problem is, as a yellow, or perhaps as a person, I find this a near impossible feat: an objective look at my emotions. The great poets and writers have accomplished it, detailing their feelings to a point that is uncanny, but I have not that genius. No, my friends, this is just an attempt to describe the raging that any one of us may go through, the type of silent battle that none but ourselves, the Spirit, and perhaps our mothers, truly know about. It's the steps on the way to love.

I know there's different styles to approaching such a thing. There are those who jump forward, without a care of the consequences. There are those who proceed with caution, carefully analyzing if the risk is worth the possible payoff. There are those who plan endlessly, coming up with new and marvelous plans for winning someone, and there are those to whom the mere whim is enough to spring them to action. I suppose there are those. The point I am trying to make is that people approach attraction differently. I cannot begin to describe the wonderful things associated with each type, because I'm not familiar with all of them. In fact, most people would consider me an inappropriate judge of any type of attraction, never having truly kissed anyone, or had a relation that lasted long enough to be of much note to anyone but myself. The fact remains, though, that I am the author of this blog, and if you don't want to read, you don't have to. But I want to write it.

I am, even in my methods of tackling the question of attraction, a yellow personality. I try to feed those I am attracted to with positive feelings, being a happy person around them, in the hope that the person that I am truly attracted to will notice all of my good qualities and make a move. Yellows, or perhaps I mean myself, can be wondrously hopeful, or perhaps foolish, depending on how you look at it. The idea that the other person will be the first to declare that she (in my case) likes you merely because you're a happy person around her is more than just bad policy, it's problematic. In my experience, the only times that has ever happened, it has been more than uncomfortable for me. Considering the labour that declaring my attraction to anyone causes me, though, either way it's going to be uncomfortable. That would seem a cruel irony, to me. That or a crucial conjunction. The conjunction of pain. (I wouldn't say that because it's going to ruin the way I see that moment in Emperor's New Groove, but it's a cool saying.) The point being, a major flaw in my policy is this endless hope that if I put myself in proximity to the person, eventually the idea of attraction will be mutual, and obvious enough to get me past my doubt to actually doing something. It is, perhaps, one of the more silly policies I have, one that for sure needs to be changed. Oh, but it's so hard. . .

I believe that I have proved that my use of affection is not the most desirable, nor the most intelligent. An interesting thing about yellow love, though, is that it's always hopeful. I can stare at stark proof, knowing with all my head that the truth is there is no chance, but my silly heart just won't let it rest. My head is the logical one, my heart the hopeful one. I see the proof, I can analyze what it means, I can tell the far shot any type of relationship might be, and yet my yellow stained heart refuses to relinquish the idea that it's still possible. I remember what the hope of eternal love being forcibly wrenched from my heart felt like. The hope was there, beautiful to behold, and the removal of that hope once made me feel as if I had been bereft of something more than just a little bit of company, something more than just a good friend. I felt as if something had reached inside and put out a little yellow light in my heart. And my friends wondered why I didn't date much for awhile after that.

Yellows (or at least I), have the tendency of falling for someone hard, as Tolkien Boy said to describe one of his friends. I'm afraid that this hopeful streak allows us to place all on the single bet of love. It makes for cruel disillusionment, but the rebound is every time more and more beautiful, each time something graceful, a work of art to behold, and each time the yellow is crushed, it comes back with an infusion brighter and fiercer than before. I can honestly say that because I felt that light snuffed out once, it's brighter today, and on better days I have no ill feelings because of the brief lapse of darkness. I'm human, so I can't say that this is true all days, I wish it were, but on better days it's true. I have a hope, the true redeeming characteristic of a yellow, more bright today than before. And before I start sounding too much like a politician, let me change the subject.

A yellow (in other words me) has this knack for doing whatever the other person wants. I know that the moment I found out the plans of someone I was particularly attracted to, I started making my plans around that (even though she certainly had no idea). She wants to major in what? Well, what can I do to support that? She wants how many kids? Sounds like a good idea to me. She wants to live where? Well, all right then, sounds like a nice place. . . and on and on. You can see that this particular trait could be dangerous. She's from what religion? Well, if you put it that way. . . There's many a good man who fell that way, and I am particularly susceptible. At one point in my life, I'm saddened to remember, the attitude of putting that one girl first, a girl to whom (or from whom) there was little real commitment, nearly ruined my friendship with my most loyal friend of the time. That being said and recognized, I have guarded myself against it, and hope in the future to be more true to faith and not false hope.

I have rambled enough about special feelings, about that which binds men and women. About attraction, and my bumbling manner of approaching it. I have on purpose left out any sort of indication as to whether this is a specific or generalized case. To be concise, and to kill questioning on the part of my concerned friends, this is both generalized and specific. General because he's one up from a major. Bad joke, and I know it. But, rather, general because it is in my estimation a correct if rambling assessment of my manner of dealing with affection, and specific because the actual push to define myself came from confusion about something in particular. I hope that you, whoever might read this (that means you too, mom) might not lose your esteem for me, and will be forgiving if I act strangely. I am, after all, a human, and not the most adept at expressing something so precious.

As a side note, this blog also revealed an alarming habit of spelling tendency as tendancy. Thank goodness for spell check.