![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
you will be my martian honey all the day
Sep. 13th, 2005 03:49 pmAs of today, I do not seem to hate everyone. It is possible that I will experience some kind of relapse in the future, but at the moment I am feeling a respectable amount of goodwill. Likely, this is directly correlated with my having a well-stocked larder. I find it much easier to deal with the world when I can look forward to varied and wholesome meals made with good quality produce. Also, I bought a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli, which I haven't had since I was little. I am positive that it will be awful, but I am nevertheless absurdly excited by the prospect of eating it. (Sometimes I think it is embarrasing that so much of my mood depends on food, but then I remind myself about Maslow's hierarchy and brain chemistry, and then I feel clever and soberly self-aware.)
Last night, I drank quite a lot of "Tarantula" tequila, which looks and smells like windex and tastes nothing like tequila. It's sort of like the liquid center of certain gummy candies, but not quite. I'm pretty sure I don't like it, but I will have to continue to drink until I have fully apprehended it. Then, with relief, I can return to proper hard liquor. Tarantula, why do you feel the need to hide what you are? If you would just be your tequila self, I would love you, baby. I'd buy you a big house.
I've never been comfortable with the idea of romantic love. Normally, this is toward the bottom of my list of priorities; there are more rewarding semantic arguments. I mostly rolled my eyes when the subject came up in endless English classes (especially since these discussions were purely theoretical for most loudly-participating teenagers). It is ordinarily my opinion that emotions are complex, layered, and individual, and that they vary with time. Having language to describe them is helpful - as a writer, I could not think otherwise - but "romantic love" doesn't seem to have much meaning; the words do not communicate, since nobody seems to agree what they mean. One might as well say "God" and be done with it. Nevertheless, much has been written on the subject. And, for once, I want to know.
So I put it to you, the mighty friendslist: Does romantic love exist? What distinguishes it from friendship plus sexual attraction? Is the idea behind it beneficial or dangerous? I don't know that there's a right answer; I'd be happy just to hear a well-informed philosophical argument more recent than the 19th century.
Last night, I drank quite a lot of "Tarantula" tequila, which looks and smells like windex and tastes nothing like tequila. It's sort of like the liquid center of certain gummy candies, but not quite. I'm pretty sure I don't like it, but I will have to continue to drink until I have fully apprehended it. Then, with relief, I can return to proper hard liquor. Tarantula, why do you feel the need to hide what you are? If you would just be your tequila self, I would love you, baby. I'd buy you a big house.
I've never been comfortable with the idea of romantic love. Normally, this is toward the bottom of my list of priorities; there are more rewarding semantic arguments. I mostly rolled my eyes when the subject came up in endless English classes (especially since these discussions were purely theoretical for most loudly-participating teenagers). It is ordinarily my opinion that emotions are complex, layered, and individual, and that they vary with time. Having language to describe them is helpful - as a writer, I could not think otherwise - but "romantic love" doesn't seem to have much meaning; the words do not communicate, since nobody seems to agree what they mean. One might as well say "God" and be done with it. Nevertheless, much has been written on the subject. And, for once, I want to know.
So I put it to you, the mighty friendslist: Does romantic love exist? What distinguishes it from friendship plus sexual attraction? Is the idea behind it beneficial or dangerous? I don't know that there's a right answer; I'd be happy just to hear a well-informed philosophical argument more recent than the 19th century.
