Sunday, July 18, 2010

Hours pass, and I still count the Minutes

So.. I have finally had the epiphany that age is simply a number. This has really taken me a while to learn. It was really just a fantasy of mine that you could label people based on the number of years they'd been on the earth... but while there are certain things you cannot deny such as the culture you were exposed to or the generation you belong to... you cannot assume that someone with more years is necessarily wiser.

What did it take for me to understand this? Well, a strange connection between old lessons and the rather plain statement of,

"Whether he was sixteen or nineteen, what he did was wrong, and if he pulled such a dumbass move at nineteen you can guarantee in the same situation he would have acted the same at sixteen."

Huh. Funny when you put it like that. I just always wished there was an age where you could be held culpable for your actions, and while there is such an age in legal terms... well when it comes to feelings whether of anger or annoyance and when it comes to the moral issue of placing blame... well age is a fuzzy area. And the area in and after puberty is pretty crazy in terms of maturity. There really isn't a label... and that can be downright frustrating.

However, having learned that lesson with some small exceptions... it's still hard to remember that when I consider the day to day mundane situations I find myself in.

Moving on... I feel a swell of pity for any boy who is or becomes interested in me at this point. It is regrettable that I feel a huge amount of for lack of a better word: bitchiness for the opposite gender that would like to initiate a romantic pursuit of me.

That probably sounds obscenely conceited, except that I'm twice as frustrated because I'm feeling something throughout my veins I don't usually acknowledge: bitterness. I'm completely crushed and feeling more down and out at the moment than usual. It's not guys in general, but right now it's the boys who hit on me. For some reason it's making me angry. And I don't feel apologetic for it at all. I feel a stupid sense of vindication because I've been hurt and the odds are that this will end the same way. It doesn't help that three of the last four come ons were purely physical and self-serving on the guys' end. And I'm glad I turned them all down. But at the same time I can't help but sing a woe-is-me "where have all the cowboys gone?" tune.

But it's better to take these feelings I suppose and channel them towards my goals. Gotta buy a car, get into shape, and plan a road trip. Also, spending time with my cousins and my friends. Still it's hard to supress the surprisingly strong bitchy urge to really make the next guy suffer. Oh, and it doesn't help that at the same time I'm trying to get my smart if angry mind to convince my heart to get the hell over the failures of the present. And I know I've talked about him enough and it's obvious I'm still taken with him, still charmed, and still enamored... but damnit I know better I just can't make myself change overnight. So please forgive the chatter about useless bums in foreign countries... I know what the problem is and I assure you I'm working as hard as I can on the solution.