Now...
If this post had a soundtrack, it would be (hands fucking down), “Sometimes” by the Brand New Heavies.
‘Cause I wanna talk about a revolution y’all.
…
One of the first lessons I ever really liked (and that actually ever mattered) as a student of Sociology (and Life, if I may take it to some pseudo-profound level) was Durkheim’s postulation; that Freedom was “to not be controlled by your individual passions.”
The whole time I thought I was exercising my freedom…
I was actually, willingly (and with almost a sickening happiness), enslaving myself.
And I know a lot of you can relate when I say:
I was a slave to alcohol, a slave to my friends, a slave to the cool, a slave to the bandwagon, the drama, the melodrama. I was a slave to the hope of finding someone, anyone to love and love me back. I was a slave to the thrill of the chase. To the hunt. To the damsel in distress. I was a slave to my own preconceived definition of love --- that it had to always keep you on your toes, that it had to be hard and painfully sweet and bitter and hurtful, the type of love where punches had to be thrown and hands had to bleed from the long, merciless “I hate you” letters and the “I’m so sorry” letters and the “Why can’t you love me the way I want you to” letters and the “thank you for loving me despite my hating you” letters. But worst of all, I was a slave to the comforting and empowering idea that everything I did… was because I was free to do it.
…
Consider this the last few days of proverbial freedom.
I am quite honestly up to my neck in work and Psyche has yet to confidently discern the difference between the letters “b” and “d,” “p” and “q” --- which I find annoyingly, though unreasonably, frustrating.
But I mean, this is as real as it gets. And I might not have pictured it so when I was young and carefree and living a life that lived on very temporary and superficial pleasure principles. Now I choose substance over pleasure. (I always found being a woman of substance an absolutely alluring title). Subdued elegance over bold profession. To not just want things… but to choose them… and enter boldly into its realm of consequences. To have a life that required so many roles you can actually play all at the same time, only this time, I made it without just myself in mind.
So maybe it doesn’t really seem all that overwhelming, being married… to bear the inescapable “ball and chain”(though HELL YEAH I’m excited about “the wedding” and just straight partying it up old Hollywood style with my favorite people)… when really, I will only be reaffirming my position to spend the rest of my life with just one person. And when you’ve actually lived with someone and have gone through the mundane day-to-day stuff (like he knows my quirks and how I enjoy back rubs and how I like my tuna and eggs and I know when he and I are getting annoyed at one another, we tend to sort of turn up the volume and the sharpness of our tones while still trying to desperately stifle the escalating cattiness until we both sort of just hold each other or kiss or leave little notes around to find… a means to diffuse the situation… among many other things that don’t get as noticed as wild professions and grand gestures of love do) and gotten through the inevitable differences that come with simply being two individuals without killing each other nor losing respect for one another, getting married doesn’t seem all that big a deal. I mean, it is. Shit. Anything with “til death doing you part” and “lifetime” stamped on it is A BIG FUCKING DEAL. But I guess, we shouldn’t put so much pressure on ourselves, on the social construct and required morals of “marriage” and love and all the good stuff that’s supposed to be good but turns out bad because of EXPECTATION aka "the relationship killer."
Sometimes, you just gotta do right. To be happy.
It’s as simple as that.
On that note... I shall exercise the last few bits of my freedom (as will he) during our bachelor/bachelorette parties later tonight. =P
...... Talkin' 'bout a revolution, or maybe just a change of mind
Working on my constitution, I began to realize
I've been doin' wrong forever, trouble was my favorite game, yeah
Breakin' hearts I thought was so clever
But, I'm the one who got hurt playin'.
I never could see it comin', no
Never could feel it 'til its come and gone
But, all of that don't mean nothin', no
When you're all alone
Sometimes you gotta do right to be happy
One time you gotta believe in what you feel inside
Sometimes you gotta do right to find happiness
Sometimes, sometimes
(Gotta do right, cha gotta do right, ahh sometimes)
You're lookin' at a transformation
That's brought about a change in me
Love's a brand new situation, never have I felt so free
'Cause I can see it comin' - yeah
And I can feel it callin' louder. Now
Lovin' is so rewarding - yeah
When you let it out
One time you gotta believe in what you feel inside
Sometimes you gotta do right to find happiness
Sometimes, sometimes
No comments:
Post a Comment