Tuesday, February 9, 2010

falling in love isn't easy to do

not with facebook as your guide.

you see, the necessary ingredient for instant passion is illusion, or as martin luther king said, 'Nothing's so dangerous as a sincere ignorance and a contientous stupidity.' this applies in private life, as well as public.

or as c.g. jung so aptly described, 'We project the image of the perfect (anima or animus) onto a flawed being. Even mothers can't live up to it.' as long as we can fall in love with a character onstage or in the movies, we're safe. alas, we confuse the performer with the real person, who at home makes kites fly.

then, why do we do it, over and over? only passion, good or ill, can make us change, give up our comfort and bad habits, the job we suffer cause of the pay and hate, the wife or husband who would put us in the poor house if we attempted to divorce them. ONE NAIL HAS TO KNOCK OUT ANOTHER. that's what i have pasted over my door.

so what about the internet's most popular social site delivers us from the demons and keeps us rooted in the every day and desperate? ah, it's no secret, not any more. you have a flash of interest, your libido rises to the occasion. immediately you go home and look him or her up. (i'll use the feminine, since that's what interests me, but the sex doesn't matter. one of the funniest and truest and ultimately tragic books for the analytically-inclined is by the gay french critic, roland barthes: http://www.amazon.com/Lovers-Discourse-Fragments-Roland-Barthes/dp/0809013886/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1265738259&sr=8-1 highly recommended.)

let's see, you've been struck by a bolt of lightning, cupid has trashed you, hidden in the mistletoe. and now you have that person sprawled before you (figure of speech), their pictures, often dozens if not hundreds, friends, family, parties, clothes, restaurant scenes, sacred and profane. it's all there. WHAT BAGGAGE THEY CARRY. in other words, they've a life. how can you love it all? they read the wrong books, see stupid movies, make a living in mundane ways, and have the desires of sheep.

no, no, i know it doesn't always happen. sometimes there's no picture, not even of them, no friends. what are they hiding? are they anti-social? this is definitely a person without trust and openness. egad, that's even worse than personal revelation.

and, of course, every once in a blue moon you like everything about them. they like rabbits as pets and so do you! they've read 'the mummy's curse.' my god, i thought i was the only one in the world. their greatest ambition: to climb mt. boro on bali with the one they love. ah, i did that, but by myself. here it is, THE PERFECT ONE. now you're tongue-tied around her (him), nervous, not yourself. you spill coffee on your pants, you step on her dress which rips when she tries to rise from the table. you blush at the touch of her hand and pull it back fast. all in all, you've become an absolute fool. knowing less, you could pretend she hadn't looked at your profile and seen right through you.

in the old days, anybody could have been a poster-child for your fantasies. not any more. the new world of ultimate disclosure has left us with reality. will the species survive? only mistakes have kept the world going so far. (i cut myself twice shaving this morning, thinking about all this. it's a good sign.)