NOTE: to all you who dislike girly, somewhat sappy entries, this is not the entry for you to read. Check back later, thanks.
Also, I would like to point out that I am on some what of a role. This is my second post in a week. Or maybe I just have so many natural blogs pent up inside me, they’re just effusing. Finally, I’m slightly disappointed “blog” has crept into my vocabulary.
Anyway. Hi, my name is Kyla, and reflect-aholic. (Hi Kyla…) Seriously, I need a rear view mirror for all of my relationships. RELATIONSHIPS MAY APPEAR CLOSER THAN THEY ACTUALLY ARE. Ha. So let me share with you a little conversation from chemistry…
Elena: Oh, Kyla, are you still with…that guy?
Kyla: Oh, um, no, we broke up.
Elena: Oh, I’m sorry. When?
Kyla: About this time last week
Elena: When did you start dating?
Kyla: About this time last year
Although, in retrospect, (See? I’m doing it again. You’d think all this mental rear view mirror checking would translate into me being a good driver. Oh wait. I am.) Maybe I shouldn’t have referred to it as “dating”. I’m realizing that constant texting does not a relationship make.
Has it really been that long? To think, at this time last year, the Trevor relationship was so new and exciting. No foreseeable silent treatments, no two month long disappearances…I feel like I’m being unjust. It wasn’t ALL bad. It’s so much easier to complain about the negative than it is to share the positive. Like how I loved how he would push my hair back. Too bad I always ruined the moment by melting into a puddle, then he’d have to go run for a mop, wring me out in a bucket, wait for me to go through deposition and turn back into a human (oh yes, you chemistry buffs out there, that was for you)…and by that time, the moment was pretty much ruined. But the ratio to things I liked to things I didn’t was like, 8 : 37. (Don’t quote me on that. What, did you think I’d sit here and make a list? Well, for your information…I’m not that bored.) I suppose whatever boy is the next lucky contestant for my infatuation could be taught such maneuvers. But looking into my crystal ball, I’ll predict it won’t be quite the same.
My classes this year are such: 4 AP’s, 1 Honors, and Statistics. ‘Why Kyla, you brag so subtly,” you say. No, no, the point wasn’t to brag. It was to point out that I don’t cower in the face of hard work. So how is it that I’ll gladly substitute sleep for that A, but was too exhausted to keep working on my relationship? Towards the end, I’ll admit, “I’m too tired to do this,” would cross my mind when I could feel a fight brewing. Or why couldn’t I just admit that it wasn’t working? Maybe I thought I wasn’t trying hard enough. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to cope with it not working. The other day, I actually said, “feelings, shmeelings.” The shocking part here is not that I said “shmeelings”, although I will admit it was not a high point in the history of my word choices, but that I brushed FEELINGS off to the side. Emotions were transformed into things which could be forgotten at present, to be revisited later, or maybe never. Maybe I’m turning into a robot, and my RAM isn’t large enough to compute normal humanoid emotions.
For those of you who have talked to me for a total of at least 30 minutes, you will be able to corroborate with the following statement. My speech is comprised of the following: 1/3 sarcasm, 1/3 analogies, 1/3 quotes (from The Office, Scrubs, or Arrested Development). So as my closing thoughts, I will attempt a Trevor-Kyla Relationship analogy. Trevor was like an inert gas. Helium, Neon, Argon, Krypton, or…I can’t remember the rest. They say you can’t change a man; inert gases are steadfastly…inert. It’s a difficult concept, I know. I’m a chlorine-potassium compound. As chlorine, no matter how much shit (electrons) I took, I just couldn’t reach that coveted group 8A. As potassium, no matter how much I gave into him, I still couldn’t shake off that final restraint and reach those damn Noble Gases. Any bonding or sharing that might have occurred was fleeting, at best.
There you go. This was quite a chemistry related entry. It’s time for me to get out of the driver’s seat and stop looking back. Well, for now.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Saturday, March 24, 2007
3.24.07
Time for another post, I suppose. I apologize for my erratic-ness. I write on a whim, and, to quote Hannah, when I have time to write a short novel.
As I investigate the available boys around me, I find they fall into two categories: the good boys, and the bad boys. Profound statement, I know. You can thank me for changing your life later. “That’s not rocket science, idiot. Open up any girl magazine and you’ll see that written on at least 10 of the 150 pages,” you say. Valid point. But Kyla the Dullard is just realizing the truth to that statement. So my question is this – why is it that we’re attracted to the bad boys?
First, let’s define the differences between this dichotomy of men. Obviously, you’d want to take your good boy home to the parents, out with friends, etc. (He sounds more like an accessory than a significant other in that definition. Maybe there’s a reason for that. Maybe he just acts like social security, so you can prove stability and good judgment to others.) He values studying over partying, avoids unnecessary conflict, just an all around nice guy. “Really? So he’s a nice guy? Thanks for clearing that up, I couldn’t have guessed that from the title.” Alright, Alright. I’m not trying to win any literary awards with this blog. Now for the bad boy. Rides a motorcycle, wears a leather jacket, and picks you up late…and wasted. Just kidding. He’s the guy who provokes fights, thinks ruining others people’s property is funny and appropriate repayment, is a master at weaving arrogance and jerk-ness into everything he says and does. He’s the guy who goes to jail for two months, and when he crashes his car says, “shit happens”. Hey, where’d that come from?
So why is it that we end up dismissing a boy who bought his own car for someone who doesn’t even have a checking account? They say that women like the chase. Alright, I will allow this statement. Granted, there’s a chase involved with getting the bad boy. But when does the chase-ee (I’m making up a lot of words today) become simply unattainable? Alas, this does not deter us. Why? Blame the person who taught you to work, unremittingly, for what you want. At the end of the day, what do you get with all your hard work? 13 sweet memories and 86 memories where you think of him fondly…as an asshole?
So what’s the point? Maybe we should change direction and start broadening our horizons to the nice boys. So maybe you’ll have to ride in a midsized sedan instead of a sports car. But what’s so wrong with a little more safety? At the end of the day, isn’t that really what we want?
As I investigate the available boys around me, I find they fall into two categories: the good boys, and the bad boys. Profound statement, I know. You can thank me for changing your life later. “That’s not rocket science, idiot. Open up any girl magazine and you’ll see that written on at least 10 of the 150 pages,” you say. Valid point. But Kyla the Dullard is just realizing the truth to that statement. So my question is this – why is it that we’re attracted to the bad boys?
First, let’s define the differences between this dichotomy of men. Obviously, you’d want to take your good boy home to the parents, out with friends, etc. (He sounds more like an accessory than a significant other in that definition. Maybe there’s a reason for that. Maybe he just acts like social security, so you can prove stability and good judgment to others.) He values studying over partying, avoids unnecessary conflict, just an all around nice guy. “Really? So he’s a nice guy? Thanks for clearing that up, I couldn’t have guessed that from the title.” Alright, Alright. I’m not trying to win any literary awards with this blog. Now for the bad boy. Rides a motorcycle, wears a leather jacket, and picks you up late…and wasted. Just kidding. He’s the guy who provokes fights, thinks ruining others people’s property is funny and appropriate repayment, is a master at weaving arrogance and jerk-ness into everything he says and does. He’s the guy who goes to jail for two months, and when he crashes his car says, “shit happens”. Hey, where’d that come from?
So why is it that we end up dismissing a boy who bought his own car for someone who doesn’t even have a checking account? They say that women like the chase. Alright, I will allow this statement. Granted, there’s a chase involved with getting the bad boy. But when does the chase-ee (I’m making up a lot of words today) become simply unattainable? Alas, this does not deter us. Why? Blame the person who taught you to work, unremittingly, for what you want. At the end of the day, what do you get with all your hard work? 13 sweet memories and 86 memories where you think of him fondly…as an asshole?
So what’s the point? Maybe we should change direction and start broadening our horizons to the nice boys. So maybe you’ll have to ride in a midsized sedan instead of a sports car. But what’s so wrong with a little more safety? At the end of the day, isn’t that really what we want?
Monday, March 12, 2007
3.12.07
So, I have had a change of address. One could say that I’ve moved back to Singletown, population: 1. It’s been a week, and like every other situation in my life, I’ve ended up taking a neutral standpoint on it. I’m the human equivalent of Switzerland. (Actually, it’s not so much “neutral” as it is…undecided. In my mind, each thought contradicts the next.) Those of you who know me, know “neutral” is a blatant lie. And those of you who don’t, well, I guess you just found out. But isn’t a girl who’s been moderately emotionally stable for the past couple of years entitled to a good cry? Depending on your gender, you’re probably having mixed reactions right now. Ladies, thank you for agreeing. Men, the correct answer to that question is “yes”.
The more I experience “love”, and all “love” related situations, the more I wonder about it. Countless songs have been written on this subject. Love being the greatest, love gone wrong, love lifting us up where we belong, love this, love that. Also, about half of the literature of the world has been written about it. (Don’t quote me on that statistic.) In “Love is Real” by Jason Mraz, he sings, “it [love]’s not just something you thought you felt back in high school”. I would have this tattooed on my arm if it didn’t seem so hypocritical. (As an unrelated note, do you think old men regret the tattoos of their youth? Like when you’re 80 and have the fading portrait of a mudflap girl tattooed on your saggy arm, do you think there’s any regret?) (Also, I lied. I wouldn’t get a tattoo if someone paid me a large sum of money.) I don’t doubt that there are high school couples who genuinely DO love each other, but I think the majority of us are lying. Deep down, when you breathlessly utter “I think I love you” (while avoiding eye contact, naturally) for that first time, do you? Really? Since grade school, it’s been hammered into our heads: there’s the whole bit about sitting in a tree, followed by kissing, which leads to love, directly resulting in marriage, then along comes a baby in a baby carriage! Are we really falling in love, or do we just assume that it’s the next logical step, after we’re done making out in a tree? (By the way, I am not drawing on personal arboreal experiences; I’m just following the rhyme. However, to anyone who has been in that situation, I’m thoroughly impressed by your cat-like balance.) Or maybe, it’s our knee jerk reaction to being in a relationship slump. When you shake your Magic 8 ball and ask, “where is this relationship going?”, do you just see a road of “liking” leading to the horizon? Is this actually the heartbeat of an exciting relationship flat-lining? Maybe we pretend to be in love to break up the monotony of a future of “like”. (As a quick side note, I feel very strongly towards people who say ‘I’m in like with him’. First off, it’s stupid. Second off, it doesn’t even really make sense. Why not just say you like him? But wait, maybe I jumped to conclusions. Maybe I should be applauding them for not lying about being in love? …Nope. It’s still stupid, final decision.)
Or maybe, we just claim to be in love to screw the other person over. Maybe we think it’s what our significant other wants to hear, so we say it to appease them, regardless of what we actually feel. In my opinion, this is the worst motive.
Anyways, back to the beginning subject. I shouldn’t have cried. And I don’t mean that in a “women-in-today’s-men-driven-society-can’t-show-any-form-of-weakness” way. In fact, the reason why I stopped was when heavy weight champion Logic won over “The Emotion-ator”. (Let’s pretend that was an awesome wrestling analogy.) I won’t go into specific, miniscule details, but let’s just say the method of breaking up involved message windows popping up on my PC. I thought of Sex and the City’s Carrie being broken up by Berger on a post-it. I’ve considered this from a clinical standpoint, and I ask you, is it too much to ask for a breakup that appropriately reflects the quality of the relationship? Maybe I wasn’t just crying because I was losing a boyfriend and a friend, (I admire those couples that are like, “we didn’t work, but let’s still be friends!”. I’m much more “we didn’t work out, you need not to exist”.) but because he couldn’t be bothered to pick up his cell phone, scroll through to “Kyla”, and call me. Maybe he didn’t want to be the bad guy. But here’s a tip, guys: trying to avoid the awkward break up conversation, THAT’S what makes you the bad guy! I do not mean any of this to be a bitter, passive aggressive, retort at my ex. In fact, I hope he’s happy. (To clarify, I do not mean that in a “well, I hope YOU’RE happy!” way.) But in my mind, you just moved into a cave in Serbia-Montenegro, and are hereby cut off from any form of communication with the outside world.
At the end of the day, maybe I lied. I’d like to believe that I truly experienced inconvenient, core-shaking love, but maybe, subconsciously, I couldn’t handle the impending monotony. Maybe I considered it to be a logical step forward. Maybe I just wanted to see his reaction. So, my closing thoughts are such: the more I marvel at “love”, the more I realize it’s an endangered species of emotion. Maybe it should just be accepted as an unattainable state of a relationship, reserved only for Hollywood and long distance commercials. Or, maybe someone should make a flow chart, to help people correctly identify how their feeling. “If you really think you’re in love with someone, then…”
The more I experience “love”, and all “love” related situations, the more I wonder about it. Countless songs have been written on this subject. Love being the greatest, love gone wrong, love lifting us up where we belong, love this, love that. Also, about half of the literature of the world has been written about it. (Don’t quote me on that statistic.) In “Love is Real” by Jason Mraz, he sings, “it [love]’s not just something you thought you felt back in high school”. I would have this tattooed on my arm if it didn’t seem so hypocritical. (As an unrelated note, do you think old men regret the tattoos of their youth? Like when you’re 80 and have the fading portrait of a mudflap girl tattooed on your saggy arm, do you think there’s any regret?) (Also, I lied. I wouldn’t get a tattoo if someone paid me a large sum of money.) I don’t doubt that there are high school couples who genuinely DO love each other, but I think the majority of us are lying. Deep down, when you breathlessly utter “I think I love you” (while avoiding eye contact, naturally) for that first time, do you? Really? Since grade school, it’s been hammered into our heads: there’s the whole bit about sitting in a tree, followed by kissing, which leads to love, directly resulting in marriage, then along comes a baby in a baby carriage! Are we really falling in love, or do we just assume that it’s the next logical step, after we’re done making out in a tree? (By the way, I am not drawing on personal arboreal experiences; I’m just following the rhyme. However, to anyone who has been in that situation, I’m thoroughly impressed by your cat-like balance.) Or maybe, it’s our knee jerk reaction to being in a relationship slump. When you shake your Magic 8 ball and ask, “where is this relationship going?”, do you just see a road of “liking” leading to the horizon? Is this actually the heartbeat of an exciting relationship flat-lining? Maybe we pretend to be in love to break up the monotony of a future of “like”. (As a quick side note, I feel very strongly towards people who say ‘I’m in like with him’. First off, it’s stupid. Second off, it doesn’t even really make sense. Why not just say you like him? But wait, maybe I jumped to conclusions. Maybe I should be applauding them for not lying about being in love? …Nope. It’s still stupid, final decision.)
Or maybe, we just claim to be in love to screw the other person over. Maybe we think it’s what our significant other wants to hear, so we say it to appease them, regardless of what we actually feel. In my opinion, this is the worst motive.
Anyways, back to the beginning subject. I shouldn’t have cried. And I don’t mean that in a “women-in-today’s-men-driven-society-can’t-show-any-form-of-weakness” way. In fact, the reason why I stopped was when heavy weight champion Logic won over “The Emotion-ator”. (Let’s pretend that was an awesome wrestling analogy.) I won’t go into specific, miniscule details, but let’s just say the method of breaking up involved message windows popping up on my PC. I thought of Sex and the City’s Carrie being broken up by Berger on a post-it. I’ve considered this from a clinical standpoint, and I ask you, is it too much to ask for a breakup that appropriately reflects the quality of the relationship? Maybe I wasn’t just crying because I was losing a boyfriend and a friend, (I admire those couples that are like, “we didn’t work, but let’s still be friends!”. I’m much more “we didn’t work out, you need not to exist”.) but because he couldn’t be bothered to pick up his cell phone, scroll through to “Kyla”, and call me. Maybe he didn’t want to be the bad guy. But here’s a tip, guys: trying to avoid the awkward break up conversation, THAT’S what makes you the bad guy! I do not mean any of this to be a bitter, passive aggressive, retort at my ex. In fact, I hope he’s happy. (To clarify, I do not mean that in a “well, I hope YOU’RE happy!” way.) But in my mind, you just moved into a cave in Serbia-Montenegro, and are hereby cut off from any form of communication with the outside world.
At the end of the day, maybe I lied. I’d like to believe that I truly experienced inconvenient, core-shaking love, but maybe, subconsciously, I couldn’t handle the impending monotony. Maybe I considered it to be a logical step forward. Maybe I just wanted to see his reaction. So, my closing thoughts are such: the more I marvel at “love”, the more I realize it’s an endangered species of emotion. Maybe it should just be accepted as an unattainable state of a relationship, reserved only for Hollywood and long distance commercials. Or, maybe someone should make a flow chart, to help people correctly identify how their feeling. “If you really think you’re in love with someone, then…”
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