Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Dowry of a so called Rockstar

I realize that I could lose a lot of street cred here (and maybe I'm delusional for thinking I ever had any) but I am quite the crier. Whilst I am thankful that I am not the girl who cries during sex or cries if I drop my ice cream cone (anymore) or after a bad haircut I am, unfortunately, still pretty weepy for someone who curses and acts as bigmouthed and macho as I often do.

I started thinking about this the other night after watching "Sense and Sensibility" to help me sleep. I love Jane Austen. Mostly for her commentary on the ills of society and how they particularly effect women. Many of these ills still plague us even in our supposedly "progressive" culture. And I think Jane Austen often gets that unfair consideration amongst her fellow female writers as being some kind of Vagina Monolouges bullshit when really she writes as a woman, but not soley of a woman's struggles with society. That said, she does tend to end her books with some sort of marriage or double marriage or ridiculous fairytale of some sort. This is the part that embarrasses me. I actually found myself crying when Mr.Ferrars (aka hugh grant) finally proposed to Miss Dashwood (aka emma thompson) despite my knowing how silly an ending I was watching.

See, I did grow up a girl, and despite my accumulated knowledge of the ups and downs, untold truths and down right horrors of many marriages I still can't help but find it sweet and romantic when love conquers all and two people proudly show their affection to a society who tells us everyday that we may not find true love. Maybe we can find marriage of convienence or as some sort of status symbol but not a true love marriage. Only gay marriage remains romantic and that's because they want so badly to be allowed to marry the one they love, out loud and proud.

I think the main reason I cry over this type of thing is also remembering the sad loss of innocence i experienced when i realized that a loving marriage is not a given. Its like I'm mourning old fantasies.

Life is the good and the bad. Its full of mixed blessings. And we will, some of us, like me, never give up on true love. That doesn't mean life won't have its way with us and work overtime to prove to us that expectations or desires are dangerous and ambitious to have. It tries to humiliate us into submission but the strong will spit in its face even when that means spitting in ones own. one of the problems with all the "progress" we make as a society is that sometimes in the shuffle we lose a sense of satisfaction in simple and sweet things. love and friendships and family get relegated to the bottom rungs when there's money and power or popularity to be pursued. Glory has changed with what we glorify and the old mainstream is slowly becoming the new counter culture thanks to a backlash big enough to make Jim Carrey's head spin. i write that hoping that you remember how audiences turned on him once he got too successful for his own good. he has made a few stinkers lately to boot but we wont count those.

Anyway, I feel that after many years of sitting at its alter i've finally found true love with a man who understands me and loves me in the most natural, beautiful way. So why am i still crying? i guess because despite my unbroken faith i still live in a contemporary society that tells me to leave one foot out the door. A world where longing for romance is unrespectable. Even knowing its unrealistic I'd like to be allowed to long for it openly without getting shite! Longing for a promotion and botox and shoes is fine. Such bullshit! What happened to girls being boy crazy?

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