Why

“I’m a team player. No, I’m not a polygamist.”

This blog has absolutely nothing to do with the saying; I just thought it was funny, so I put it here with the intention of making someone smile. If you just smiled, whether at what is quoted here or at me actually taking the time to tell you that I put it there just to make you smile, (and if you happen to be one of those lovely ladies with whom a crush is forthcoming, then that was meant specifically for your smile, ‘cause it makes me go all gooey on the inside) then I have succeeded in my quest.

I think making people smile is a good sort of quest.

All of that is beside the point. As many of you know, and as those who don’t shortly will, I enjoy music. I have enjoyed music since the days of my youth, when we actually have home videos of my Dad getting out his guitar and playing some song from the primary. The primary, as you probably know, but for the sake of clarity and also to make myself feel good about my own capabilities of description, is a place in my church where little kids go to learn about God and all of the things he does for us. One of the most powerful tools of teaching, both for children or adults, has always been and will always be music.

I can’t say that I’ve always been the most inspiring when enjoying music. In the home video I mentioned before, it ended on the happy note of me deciding that it was “my turn” to sing, and when I didn’t get my way, I started crying. I’ve had great lungs since very young, it seems, because the crying was louder than anyone’s singing. Perhaps the best part of the whole thing was that, after I started crying, the camera went to my dad who then said “this happens all the time.”

Kudos to me. Anyway, I love music and always have. I have to thank my mom for that, for her love of music and for gathering all of us kids around the piano to sing songs, secular and sacred, that seemed to bind my family together, and throughout time those melodies have traveled the distances and times between my family members and have united us together in harmony. Oh, goodness that was sappy.

In my love for music I gravitate towards singing opportunities. One of which is a choir that sings with the institute of religion that I attend. We sing a large variety of songs throughout the fall and spring semesters, with plenty of opportunities for performance. I love this choir, so when a friend asked me to name a few good reasons why she should return to the choir next year, I was a little befuddled. Who wouldn’t want to return? I gave, as my reasons, the chance to get closer to God, and also the chance for social interaction.

It’s been about three weeks since that choir took a break for the summer semester, and I’ve had the chance to think about what I said, and what my reasons are for going back to the choir next year. In an effort to redeem my lack of eloquence before, I’m going to bear a little of my soul and explain why I’m going back to choir next year.

I was right about the social interaction, for one. I have a great system of friends now, because I was in choir. There are lots of sects that are Zionistic, one of the more famous of today is the FLDS ranch “Hoping for Zion” in Texas that has been in the news of late. Basically the idea of being one community, united in effort and ideal, is something that most people like. In a choir or band, this happens naturally; there’s one leader, one person that everyone follows to some extent, and the intent of everyone in the choir is to produce something that others find beautiful, that is pleasing to the senses, and that makes the singers/performers happy. You can’t go to the same class every day and have the same basic intent as sixty people without making friends. Perhaps that’s why religion is good at bringing people together as well.

Now, the reason number one that here appears second, that going to choir gives the chance to get closer to God, deserves a little more explanation than just that sentence. I am deeply religious, and so this point is particularly important to me. I’ll explain what this choir has done in this respect, specifically for me.

Service, getting out and following the example of instructions of a loving God as far as the treatment of others, is a marvelous way of coming to understand what an amazing and loving character God really is. When you come to know someone, and to serve them, you begin to see what God saw when He made that person, you feel love for them, and you begin to understand how important every last one of His creations are to Him, and how much care he puts into their lives. Music is one of the most comforting influences that I know. Singing in person, or hearing live music, is often much more powerful than listening to a recorded song. Singing then becomes a great service of comfort, and as you sing, you’re servicing not only those who hear, but yourself. My soul responds to that feeling more than many other things in this world, and it makes me happy.

In the midst of service, and especially when singing a more religious type of song, something else occurs that is worth noting. In Doctrine and Covenants, a modern book of revelation, the Lord says “My soul delights in the song of the heart; yea, the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me.” Each song we sing, whether it be specifically worshipful or not, becomes a prayer of faith and devotion if sung in the right attitude (and as long as it’s not sung in a disrespectful attitude), and therefore every moment we spend singing is time spent worshipping God. I love to sing, and I love being closer to my Lord, so having both at the same time is better than having your cake and eating it too. In the choir I participate in, that means an hour every day of singing and worshipping. It’s only natural that one would get closer to the Lord because of that.

There is one more reason why I’m returning to choir. The scriptures speak of singing the song of redeeming love. I can’t say that I know exactly what that song is, but I can say that as I sing, I feel love for my God, and I feel His love for me, so it becomes a song of love, and a work of love to be there, singing.

There is something beautiful in music. If music be the food of love, sing on ‘till I am filled with joy.

Magic

Magic. That’s what this new template reminded me of. Magic.

Magic has played an important role in my life. How ironic, something that doesn’t exist being so important to me, a being that I know exists, and as Descartes might tell me, I’m the only thing of which I’m sure exists, other than God, and yet something that is accepted by everyone, almost, over the age of twelve as being something completely not real is, for me, something that still plays an active role in my life. Even Harry Potter’s creator would admit that this world needs imagination and not magic, but I say that the world is full of magic, we just don’t realize it.

I’d like to invite you into a little portion of my brain. It’s beautiful there, this small portion. Imagine yourself on an average parking lot. Nothing really that spectacular about the lot, just a gentle downward slope to the north. The lot is adjacent to a beautiful old building made out of red brick. The lawn of the building is always kept green, except in early spring when it is airated and little children take turns believing the clots of dirt are first dog poo and then grenades, to be thrown at any and all enemies whenever you come in contact with them.

It’s a pleasant scene, but it’s not the place I remember as magical, the place that is still magical to me. Just north of the parking lot, there is a deep gulley, cut out by the constant eroding of a determined stream. With sides that are steep, the gulley is more like a small valley, creating it’s own atmosphere, it’s own feeling, so different from that of only a few feet up and to the south. One descends a mere ten feet to find all outside sounds have been cut off, and the only sound is the omnipresent bubbling of the stream about twenty feet below. The sides of the gulley are covered in lush undergrowth, and trees that appeared dwarfish from the parking lot suddenly become towering giants, seeming to hide tree-elves, those scheming tricksters who wait to play trick on the unwary travelers. If you listen closely, you might just hear a raccoon playing in the stream, or washing his food in preparation for the family supper. Thick foliage and trees effectively block houses from view, and it’s like stepping back in time, to when knights feared of demons and dragons, where elves walked freely and talked with men, and hobbits, though skittish, could be convinced to trust their noisy cousins.

I always thought I would find something unusual there. Wake up one day (after camping) to find a small dragon looking through my things, or perhaps that I should find that I had woken up in midst of a real forest, somewhere I could wander around forever, only to come out and find myself in a strange world, a strange place where anything was possible.

Each day I felt that way, I’d wake up in the same gulley. The morning there was always breathtaking. The stream combined with the steep sides made for chilly mornings, where the cold was trapped there, so waking up there was always a lot of dew around. For a few precious moments when the sun came up, high enough to be seen from the gulley floor, everything glittered, like a thousand diamond drops on each leaf. It was beautiful.

However, there is a dilemma: I still believe in the possibility of a lot of those things. I am not that odd in this belief. I find things like dragons, impressive animals and talking beasts to be a lot more believable than many of the fantasies regarding relationships that are thrown at me from modern entertainment. Perhaps this betrays a small amount of jadedness on my part, but so I see it. Magic, then, happens all the time, but in different ways.

And so, my friends, look! See the magic. There’s little things all the time that speak of beauty, of fairy dust falling, of potion dipped arrows, of greatness. Feel the magic. No, I don’t want you to go to Disneyland.

Regression

It seems that when one wants especially to jot down all the jumbled up thoughts and observations that moment is precisely when those thoughts refuse to organize themselves into anything resembling coherency (which may or may not be a word, but for the present circumstances will be allowed past any and all detectors of falseness, seeing as this is, as you will see, nothing more than a schematic of my thoughts and often I think false things). Having said that, I say now, what a wonderful thing (which I have recently been told is a completely guy adjective, no pun intended for those who have seen "That Thing You Do.") it is to once again be joining the blogging world in trying to make sense out of the insanity that is my life inside my brain, which I assure you is much less organized than my bedroom, which my mother insists on referring to as the climatic chaos of an otherwise well developed habitat. Okay, maybe she doesn't say that on a regular basis, or at all for that matter, but it sounded fun in my head, so why not put it here?

This is, after all, an attempt on my part to get rid of a serious case of writer's block that I've had for almost a month now. Thoughts of how much I write about dating and relationships (which, coincidentally, take up a rather appalling amount of my thought time) and my complete lack of material, or the exact opposite of over abundance of writing material, have kept me in the dark as to what I should write about. Once again, in an allusion to the mad mad world that is my life, I told my mother that I feel the need to go on a date, but that I'm at a loss as to where to start. To which my mother wisely responded "well, you might try starting with calling someone and asking them out."

Word well spoken. Perhaps, I thought, those words would be a great motto for anything. It becomes a strange thought to do so when thinking "I really feel the need to go to heaven." I doubt that asking out heaven would really be the ticket, though a slight play on the words, and taking it more of in a symbolic sense than in an actual literal sense, might be exactly what one is needing.

The point of the rambling that has gotten me to this point is, of course, to say that the way I have chosen to get over my writer's block is to simply write. And write I am, (that is not correct but I don't care!), writing whatever random thoughts cross my mind! I'm hoping that what ends up recorded here will be both thought provoking and nonsensical, seeing as that is the type of writing that I find most enjoyable.

I think I'll start (or continue, as the case may more accurately be described) with an observation that came late last night, after I had finished being sick. See, I was sick for a long time, and spent, quite literally, the entire day in bed yesterday. In my delirium, though, I pondered over reactions that some girls had to a show, "The Holiday" I believe it was called, and comparing those reactions to other reactions from the feminine gender. I'd like to say right now, though, that the movie portrayed some pretty screwy philosophies. One of which was that physical displays of affection are cheap things that can be bartered about with reckless abandon and will not have any affect at all on what happens to the true love of people. I say true love because I mean the actual thing that joins two people together for more than just the duration of hormones. It's kind of weird, really, but different physical displays, hugs, kisses and, yes, the three letter 's' word that is so taboo in my culture (or at least in my head) that I will not actually write it here. Though, if movies are any indication I can spell it out, as long as I don't say it, and be a-okay! That's an odd thought, when you consider that I'm writing this.

Anyway, my point was about the reactions (I told you I would write this as it came to my mind! It's you're own fault if you didn't believe me). I've discovered a fool proof way to be attractive. Seriously! I've discovered something absolutely amazing. It seems that I was incorrect in my assessment of the character of Mr. Darcy, and why he's so attractive to otherwise logical women, as well as my overall assessment of the attractiveness of each and every one of Ms. Austen's male characters. What makes a man attractive (are you ready for this), are the three 'B's. British, Bounteous, and Beautiful. Yes, I thought of that while I was delirious, and yes, it made me laugh.

I realise that some people will disagree with me. They have obviously never been in a room predominated with females, all very vocal about their varying states of attraction toward male actors. Yes, indeed, after much thought, I have come to this fool proof conclusion. If you are British (the most important part of this being that you have a British accent, because it gives off the air that you know what you're talking about and you sound oh so sophisticated, which as Tolkien Boy, and English major, informs me, is actually a fact, that British accents make people sound more intelligent, even though they just may not be) which is unfortunately something that can only be given through birth but, in a pinch, just living in England until you have a believable accent will do, you're doing well. Now, if you're a rich British (that would be bounteous), then you're doing extremely well, and chances are you will be meeting someone important to you within the weekend.

All of these may be trumped, though, if you don't happen to be beautiful. I've found that small discrepancies on this account are forgivable, if you have the other two 'B's, but if you don't have one of the other two 'B's and are sadly lacking in this particular acronym, you're bound for trouble. Oh, the sad and sorry state that is life.

Actually, that brings up another thought. Are men thought cowards if they don't kiss a girl? Thanks to Disney and other related companies, the type of importance that is connected with a kiss ought to make the first kiss something of a ceremony, special and important. So, the question comes, when a guy is hesitant about kissing someone, does that make him a coward, or just wise to not go around sharing something that special with every girl he finds physically attractive? I've heard that emotional attraction can only grow with time, and that physical attraction is the only thing we have to go off right at first, and so I just have to wonder, if someone guards their lips, does that make them weak, or does it just mean that it's important to them?

Maybe it just means that they don't have very much experience kissing and so they put a whole lot of thought into the whole thing.

Probably.

I discovered something amazing. The reason that Nintendo games aren't really that satisfying is because you can't talk about them with your friends, really. I mean, if you talk with them about loads of yard work, and how beautiful your yard looks now, the things you've done, and about the sexy new tan you have (I'm borrowing someone else's words at this point, I'm sure) then you have something that other people will listen to. But if you start talking about "game high points" and "records," most people don't really find that all that interesting, and it's actually pretty hard to talk about.

Not that playing Nintendo is a bad thing. I love it, especially when I really don't want to think about anything at all. Then Nintendo is great, because I don't have to think. Maybe it's due to the fact that it's basically a computer that generates information based on a set amount of rules and those rules must be followed throughout the game and are relatively finite in number. That would mean that our impressive brains lock onto the "code" or set rules extremely quickly, and then they go on computer mode, where they basically produce what is required at the correct moment. Our minds become little more than computers. And computers don't think. Which means, at that moment, we don't think.

Look out, Plato, here I come.

Well, I think that about kills my writer's block. Or at least I hope so. I hope that you enjoyed my ramblings. They may not have been as rambling as I'd hoped, but, hey, nothing organizes like seeing the chaos written down.

Completely Random

Amidst the strife that surrounds my life at this time of year, I've had a lot of really strange thoughts and seemingly random observations. For instance, I've noted that I dislike seeing beautiful women. That might be because my heart does a little flip and belly flop every time it happens, and that can be painful, and may lead to heartburn. The scientists are still debating as to the validity of that statement.

Finals is a great time to get frazled. Everyone expects it of you, and honestly, it's a natural thing that happens. I've actually discovered that taking tests and writing papers can be more enjoyable than some classes are. For example, my current political science class is of such a kind that I would probably be better off not going to class (which I will no more forever) and just reading the book and taking the tests. It's not really that much different from what I do anyway, seeing as the minute I sit down, open my lab top, and connect to the Internet my mind checks out anyway, and my professor could announce that the entire class would be receiving 'A's on the final as long as they were willing to go and talk to him before hand, and I would completely miss it.

I've had a lot of interesting experiences this semester with my laptop. One day in Spanish, the professor was explaining a rather potent piece of poetry when I guffawed out loud. You see, I was chatting with a humorous friend, and the joke she had said moments before was the type that made it hard for me to control the laughter. I was subjected to one of the most evil stares by the professor. Good thing she was a substitute and not my regular teacher.

I've also found out a lot about girls. I have been chastised a few times for contradicting myself here in this blog. Self contradiction seems to be a human normality, and I no longer feel bad about it. Philosophy may hold that contradiction means weakness, or even that when one contradicts one's self then it is a sign of lack of intelligence, but I've come to the conclusion that all imperfect beings are in a process of gaining further understanding, and so it becomes very common to contradict what one has said before, as greater knowledge becomes part of who we are.

I mention self contradiction because I've discovered that everyone, including myself, is confused. I mean it. There are a few basic truths that anyone can know, but past those building blocks of knowledge the grand majority of everyone is just as lost to what is really going on as I am. For example (this is part of what I've learned about girls. Hold your breath, here we go!), I understand that girls would like to be appreciated for their talents, their personality, their way of thinking, and the different things that describe them, and not (heaven forbid) for their divinely shaped bodies. If I'm wrong in saying that girls often express the desire to be cherished for their personalities and their amazing souls over physical appearance, you may correct me if you wish (but I probably won't believe you). Now, if you take that idea, and compare it to a statement I heard, "Dating really is a game. You have to talk to a guy two or three times before he'll even consider asking you out on a date," from the very lips of a pretty sensible girl that I know, you must concede the contradiction. If a guy is expected to ask a girl out before he even talks to her, what must he judge on? Looks, and looks alone.

I realize that this particular argument has many holes, but just to add to the feeling, another person I know stated that she was waiting for a missionary, and the specific thing that she listed as being important was that he is taller than she is. I understand that girls enjoy feeling protected and taken care of, and that this may lead to girls desiring someone they date to be larger than themselves, but the emphasis is still the same. it was a little disconcerting, really, though I was glad for a little glimpse into what someone thought.

I may have inflamed countless people by now. It's kind of fun, actually. You see, I'm just as confused as you are, and must therefore not be taken any more seriously than the most foolish, or any less seriously than the most wise.

Girls are not, by far, the only ones living a double life. Guys as well (and I should know, I'm one of them) frequently lament the fact that no one actually appreciates "them." You know, the part that they hide so that no one can see, the part that they make very sure will never see the day light, and then they complain that no one seems to understand them. Sound familiar? Well, let's just say I have a lot of personal experience with that one.

I really didn't mean this to be solely about oddities of the various genders (or perhaps just of people in general), but there it is. Perhaps, in the end of the day, we'll all realize that what we truly want is to feel appreciated for everything, for our minds, for our talents, for our bodies, and yes, even appreciated with our weaknesses and faults; and maybe, just maybe, when we realize that we already do that to others, or when we start doing it to others, we'll realise that it's already happening.

Windows

This poem comes as the realization of a promise I made to a friend, Annie, a while ago. Here it is, a poem:

Windows

Windows with crystal clarity
Show worlds just beyond our feeling,
That with their vibrant colors
Our breath, our words they’re stealing.

Content, one may consider
A view through crystal of celestial blue,
Free of clouds of strife, the very sky
Reflected in paradise’s dew.

Though the scene may show
Either deep heaven or shallow cover,
The beauty holds the viewer still
In awe of the heavenly color.

Another opening may betray
A glimpse of deep blue-green ocean,
Where shining sun reflects in rays
And enchants like a wizard’s potion.

A window there is that gives a view
Of liquid earth, a deep brown foam
That speaks of life, and with its charm
Makes a heart feel at home.

And yet another view is had
Of golden fields that glow;
That fills one with bursting energy
And lifts when one is low.

Satin black can be seen
And commands the viewers eye
It holds it steady to be sure
It catches each glint passing by.

These and other sights
Have been my pleasure to see.
Each window shows true beauty
And a glimpse of eternity.

Threads

Having something that reports to you about the viewing of your blog is an amazing thing. I have discovered that, shocking though it may sound, I have more people who visit my site on or directly after the day in which I post something new! Like flies drawn to a light, guys to a beautiful girl, or girls to a life-loving man, there is a dramatic increase in how many people actually look at my site after I post something. It behooves me to post more often, then. That being said, let us on with this blog.

College is a befuddling and interesting experience. Befuddling because it establishes a pattern, a set way of doing things, and then it puts kinks all over that pattern, like someone who crochets and intentionally puts a few weird angles or odd colors, just to give the feeling of chaos. Weaving in and out of every day's repetitive journey are strands of beauty that may be anywhere from blatantly obvious to divinely subtle, and are easy to miss if one doesn't pay attention. There may be a smile from a nearly unobserved but beautiful person. Perhaps, as one walks along a bird will sing a strain that resonates deep though it be but a simple tune. Every once and awhile, a thread reveals itself as being both long, beautiful, and masterfully woven into the very fabric of life, as a great creator puts on the touches to a tapestry of grace and wonder.

I'm normally not a particularly passionate person. There are few subjects that really create any sort of true emotion, the type that causes me to wish for better things (in the subject in particular) or that evoke the kind of actions that are normally accompanied by deep feeling. Among the few is this country in which (for the most of the people who read this) we live. The United States of America. Ever since I returned from Mexico, I've been so grateful to live here. This, my friends, is a land where opportunity is common commodity, and where anyone, with drive and ability, can become anything. I never felt that as strongly as when I had just recently returned to America. I do not know if this same opportunity exists everywhere, but I know it exists here. I love this country, and am grateful to have been put here.

Recently, there was a show done by the Ogden LDS institute entitled "This is a Great Country." I was blessed with the chance to be one of the hosts for that show. Normally I don't mention specific details about anything that I do, because I enjoy thinking that some of the people who read this have no idea who I am, but I will make an exception this time. I enjoy acting, and that really was the idea I had in mind when I auditioned for the part. Of course I was excited that I got the part, and have enjoyed it.

There is something that I didn't realise until the show was actually going on, though. Something beautiful. Patriotic shows are uncommon for the Ogden LDS institute. I understand that they only happen every decade or so. It is not very likely, then, that I should be part of a patriotic show, and less likely that I should be a host. As I thought about that, I realised that I had been placed in a particular place and time, just to bless me. There was a thread, going back to before I left on my mission, that had woven nearly unnoticed through a couple of years in my life. There truly is a master weaver, and I'm grateful for that particular thread in my life.

Perhaps most of the time I don't find threads that are that long or that graceful. However, I find threads that make my life beautiful.

Once Again

I was recently shocked to discover that there are blogs of people that I actually know in real life that are dedicated completely to dating. I thought that I was the only one who was compulsive and obsessive enough to actually write as much as I do about dating and relationships and the general turmoil of my soul that results in these blogs that are often contradictory and rather incoherent. Indeed, shocked I was. As was Yoda. However, I was afterward told by a good friend that really, dating is an important element of the lives of people found in my circumstance (that is, single, not dating anyone seriously, and being told by society that we are all freaks and should have some good sense beat into us, even if it must be done with awkward moments and bad dating experiences). How I love our culture!

This blog is actually not about the adverse effects of society on my sanity. No, indeed, that argument is nearly impossible to truly take one side or the other, seeing as my sanity was already in question long before I ever entered the arena of "on the market." A coworker referred to a recently engaged person as "off the market," which was an accurate reflection of common opinion, though I admit I don't appreciate the feeling behind the words. Once again, I digress.

Have you ever noticed that during life we have love cycles? I wrote about them in "Provoking" which was not received with open arms, but the principle was still a true one. Jewelsp suggested that the dark parts of the cycle, the times when no one is appealing as a romantic interest, come at moments when one is hurt and recovering. It's easy to understand how a broken heart would have a hard time risking injury again. Those moments of complete romantic abstinence are only part of the cycle, though. I understand that some people have learned to avoid those ugly parts well, and get through them quickly. However, it is still part of a cycle, and one that is pretty violent in my life. In one day I can go through and entire cycle. Starting out where all and every attractive girl is a romantic interest, then where it settles on one particularly attractive person, the hopes (of that day, week, month, year) then begin to be formed, then either satisfied or crushed. If satisfied, there's a small circle back to the hopes part, and more hopes are built up and either satisfied or crushed. If the hopes of the person in the cycle are crushed, then it seems natural to move into a period of hurt.

This hurt takes many forms. To start off, most people seem to just feel hurt. They feel weak and incapable of reaching out to anyone (and most of the time feel the need to have someone reaching out to them). Then the defense mechanisms set in. Some people have the destructive sort of mechanism, either loathing of all around them or self loathing, where no one is good enough or they'll never be good enough. Frustration abounds, and yes, I have been in this stage before, and I'm very familiar with the easy transition from the ache to anger. Not a good way to go, really. There are other defense mechanisms, such as hiding pain and making yourself busier. You might try acting as if nothing is the matter, or one might even act more cheerful than before.

Eventually there is something that brings the sharp realization that you have a problem. Oh, by the way, I'm talking to myself here. If it just so happens that none of what I've said applies to you (it might just be likely), you may discount what I've said, because this is all to get ready for what this blog is really about, anyway. When the realization comes that you are hurt, and that you need healing, there's lots of places to seek it. There are plays that help you work through emotions that are portrayed on stage that are similar to the ones you have, there are scriptures and prayer for greater understanding, light, and compassion, there are a multitude of things that help us feel what we have to feel in order to begin healing.

Once healing begins, we make a slow climb to the top of the cycle, with little encouragements here and there, a smile, a friendly hello and hug, a random phone call or email. Whatever the way, we end up once again attracted to everyone (and attractive to lots of people, I might add), and in love not only with other people but also in love with life and ourselves.

Now, I wrote all of that so I could write the next part:

Love songs are a natural stimulant of this cycle. Seriously! Love songs encourage love in general, which helps us be interested in everyone. I say that loosely, of course. If everyone was interested in everyone the world would be as crazy as I am. Love songs also push towards singular attraction: that special feeling toward a special someone. Yes, love songs can be the catalyst to push a young man or woman to action.

This is usually where love songs get me in trouble. That might be because some songs are clearly written for some types of people. A song that features long blond hair has me forgetting all about the brunette beauties that I know. And don't even get me started about eye color. Plus, there are certain songs that just go with specific personalities. Argue with me if you will, but the truth is that some songs just match!

Is it bad that I'm convinced into love by a song?

Anyway, love songs also help us past the hopeful stage, either in the direction of satisfaction and enjoyment of being preferred and preferring another's company, or into the crushing of hopes. Do you think hopes give out a juice when they're crushed? I think it must be a pretty sour one.
Mostly, for me, love songs make me face the fact that I don't have the relationships that my overactive imagination would have me believe that I have. I sing or listen to the words and say "gosh, that's not my life." And then a tear falls. Oh, so sad.

Love songs can also help one feel the emotions needed for healing to begin, and even instill new hope. I love love songs.

My personal love cycle might be described a little like this:

"Feeling Good" -- "Come to Me, Bend to Me" -- "You Don't Know Me" -- "Alejate" -- "If I Can't Love Her" -- "She Was There" -- "Feeling Good."

That's about what my last cycle through love songs was. Even one song can go through almost all of the stages of this cycle. Fore example, "If I Can't Love Her" features hopes and aspirations, the darkness of despair, anger about hurt, and the defense mechanism of cutting one's self off from the world. It's an amazingly bitter song, but it helps to get a lot of emotion out when one sings it.

So, there it is, once again, a story about something to do with love. I wanted to write something different, I really did, but my life is distraught right now with all the tests and various activities that are going on. So, if you didn't enjoy this, I'm not sorry, because I liked writing it.

So there.