shes so lucky, shes a star
WARNING: LONG ENTRY IN WHICH EACH PARAGRAPH FEEDS INTO THE NEXT. SKIMMING WILL DO NO GOOD. THERE'S NOTHING FUNNY. AND THERE ARE NO SHOUTOUTS. DON'T LOOK FOR YOUR NAME. IT'S NOT THERE.The first computer/video game I played wasn't pong--it was snake. You know, the Basic game with the squiggly line that eats up numbers, and the walls kill it? Then there was that gorilla game in which you controlled the trajectory of the banana-bomb. Oh! And Sega Genesis with the Sonic games! And Keen...does anyone know what I'm talking about? Or how about an even more obscure one...Treehouse? It has two monkeys in a treehouse full of different games (i.e. firetruck counting game, theater game, music game). I once had a really disturbing nightmare where the theater game played pornos, and I was one of the monkeys in the game struggling to get out.
So anyway, though video games have gotten more advanced over the years, one thing has stayed the same. Whenever a game starts off badly, I will almost always hit the "start over" button and get a fresh start. Of course, when I do hang in there and try to finish the game with 4 lives instead of 5, things don't go as badly as I expect. But still, why not use the "start over" button when it's so easily accessed?
I think this is one of the reasons why I have such trouble coping with the stressors in my life. There's no "start over" option, so I'm forced to stick with the 1 flawed life I have. I missed all the bonus points, forgot the cheat codes, and wound up dueling the boss over and over with no sign of eventually beating him. I'm constantly going through and reevaluating all the wrong steps I made in my life, yet still maintaining the position that there's nothing I can do about it. After all, when your damage level is above 100% in SmashBros, no matter how hard you try to hang in there, a simple kick will send you flying off the platform. That's how I feel. 110%.
My biggest reevaluation lately has been the transformation I underwent after starting college. You know, going from well-rounded academic to a reclusive nerd-type. It's like in Pokemon: you don't always want to evolve your pokemon because although they get stronger, they lose out on critical skills. So after my Princetonian evolution, my confidence and security have been, well...Iceberg, straight ahead. It could just be that I went from being one of the biggest fish in the tank to becoming a splotch of algae in the Princeton pond. There's no point in doing something if you know there's someone who can do it 10 times better than you can. And recently, I've been getting so hyped up about doing new things; however, after thinking about it for a day or two, I just shrug and say "eh, nevermind. It's not going to change anything."But not everything has been a bad change. My grades have never been better in my life. I've actually been doing real studying because academics are one of the last things I have to cling onto. I can't get by on looks anymore (but this is another story). Actually, I have time. Might as well tell the story now:
So exactly what does a girl do when she feels less attractive to her boyfriend? Note: not the same thing as actually being unattractive. This is a type of neuroses, but almost a meta-neuroses, because I'm completely conscious that I'm freaking out over nothing. It makes me think of this episode of "Reba" (please don't laugh, I'm fragile right now) when Cheyenne got upset at her husband for not peeking when she asked him to turn away while she was in the shower. I'd always taken a guy's perspective before: she's being silly, what's the big deal about peeking anyway if that's what she asked for in the first place?Ohhh ho ho. Guys, this is very very important. A girl's strongest weapon is her intuition, and it almost never fails. We can just sense when something's wrong, and when you give us actual proof...well, everything just goes down from there. It's not always about verbal communication ("Oh baby, you're so sexy"), it's about those soft touches now and then, and a stolen peek just to show we're still desired.
Once again, another Pokemon evolution. While evolving to a long-term relationship does provide emotional and psychological comforts, it also zaps away the passion every time you're not looking. The "How to respark your romance" articles aren't just talking to imaginary people; they're talking about everyday couples who have just sank into a level of comfort, good ones even.
But, oh man, I got so mad this one time Karl and I were at the park. We were just sitting in his car, talking about how far our relationship has gone, and I ask him whether or not he still wanted me.
Karl: I don't want you because I already have you.
What?!?!?! Immediately, my self-defense ego retorted with the mental response of: well, if you don't want me, I'll just have to find someone else who does. But after thinking about it--teeth clenched, stomach acids boiling--I realized that it's just another biological rule. Is it possible to desire something you already have? Habituation and sensitization. We've become habituated to each other after going out for almost two years, and in return for a starvation for desire, we've found someone who will do sudokus, watch marathon television, and shop for dishes with us.
Still, I couldn't help thinking whether or not it was possible to continue the way we are, comfortable, happy, yet completely reminiscent of those beginning stages when everything was exciting. There's no "start over" button either, no way to go back and recreate all those feelings of not knowing how the other person will react. It's all just maintenance: going on a date every other week, trying a new position, inventing another baby language.But then there're those times when I'm smiling so hard it hurts, or when I find that perfect spot in the crook of his arms, and I realize that even if there was a "start over" button, I would never want to press it. After all, with desire comes a certain amount of illusion. The Tiffany the he desired probably wore thongs all the time and never let her eyeliner smear at the end of the day. But nowadays, he's seen me at my worst: no makeup, ass-scratching, even the occasional granny-panty during period week. Who could really desire that? If anything, he's saving me the trouble by being okay with the after-hours me that's as plain and fragile as a paper screen. I should probably stop complaining because I know he's doing the best he can to keep up with my daily neuroticisms. He works so hard to cheer me up. And though what he does is really sweet, he'll probably be too embarassed if I write about it. That's just how sweet it is. Even sweeter than when he gives me foot rubs and flowers, or when he gives me piggyback rides when I'm being lazy.
I apologize for being sappy, again. It's just that, for me, writing is a kind of self-administered therapy. I was actually pretty upset when I started writing this entry, but it somehow worked out in the end. Either that, or I'm just ridiculously in love, and I apologize for all the people who I just made barf with that one comment.
posted by Tiffany @ 1:02 AM
3 Comments:
:) It's sweet (sappy whatevah) that you love your boyfriend, actually does Karl want a perfect you? I mean it'd get boring after awhile, granted oozing a constant sex appeal is never a problem.
xx
ik
emo-tastic with a hint of pop culture. brilliant.
i loved keen! actually, no i sucked at keen and was scared i was going to die so i always made my sister play for me. but i loved to watch keen! you're perfect to karl and for karl and thats all that matters. good luck on your exam!
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