June 24th, 2007

thinking is dangerous

This entry is very long. Again.

Script Frenzy Word Count: 16037 words. Yup, I caught up.

First, congratulations to pinkngreen5286, the winner of the Paid Time Transfer!

What I did: I went to random.org, randomized the list of everyone who chose "Pick me!", and did this twice. Then I took the sum of each person's placement on each list. I had several ties for lowest sum (which was what I was going for because low rolls tend to get shortchanged), so I did it again. This broke the tie.

This article made me go WTF. Touching leading to detention? I can understand flagrant making out in the hallways, which I remember two people in particular doing in middle school, and a ton of people doing in high school, but I find holding hands or high-fiving a bit extreme.

Today when I was trying to figure out what on earth Miranda was going to do until 20K, I realized something.

I'm writing almost the same story I wrote in November. Girl meets guy, falls in love, girl goes back to everyday life, girl goes back for guy. Even though I'm writing both stories in completely different circumstances, I have to wonder if this weird subconscious thing about my writing revealing something about my love life is coming up. And if so, why on earth am I writing the same story twice?

But something stands out about these two stories. Yes, they're stories of love. But they're also stories of refusing to settle for Mr. He'll Do. Both Astra and Miranda met someone who changed their lives forever, yet left him, whether by choice or not. And in both instances, they suffer through Mr. He'll Do men before realizing that settling just isn't an option. Mr. He'll Do just won't do. But then they remember that one time when they met someone who changed their lives so much that their world just wasn't the same anymore. And they went to find the person who changed their world.

And I think there's my subconscious thing, although it's not all that subconscious. I don't want to settle. I don't want to be one of those people thinking about how things could have been so much better if such-and-such happened. Not now, not ever. Yes, maybe I could have made some better decisions, from the little things over what to get for lunch (at least one person here alone has scorned my "regret nothing" mantra) to the really big things. But by Gödel, those are my decisions. My life. And I'm making it mine.

This summer I've probably had to defend just about every nonconventional life choice of mine--from attending a women's college to wanting to marry myself to maybe not wanting to marry someone else to not wanting kids (I haven't Bingoed yet, but I'm definitely getting there) to doing things just because I can to--let's face it--being slightly off the deep end, but we all knew that happened a long time ago anyway. But I'm still doing it, and it hasn't made me that much more memesheep-esque. If anything, I think it has forced me to embrace my own eccentricity because, after all, I'm not a beautiful or unique snowflake.

Because you must love yourself in order to love another. If you can't love yourself for who you are, in spite of all those insecurities lurking underneath the surface, how on earth can you love another for they are? Will your conditional love of self make you love another conditionally as well? Or will you cling to the other because of your conditional self-love, turning said love into a product of your work alone?

Whatever happens, it won't be the ultimate, consummate love. This, I believe, is what Astra and Miranda sought and found only once. Is it really once in a lifetime? I don't know. I really don't.

Mathematics is consistent, but we can't prove that it is. Family, friends, the deity of your choice if you so believe, a lover if you have one, love us, but we can't prove it. There is only so much that proof can bring, as beautiful as proof is.

This is what Steve fails to understand. He's a programmer, not a mathematician. But when Miranda tries to explain what happened to her the day of the solar eclipse, Steve scoffs. How could it have happened if Miranda couldn't explain it? But some things can't be explained. Miranda was like him, too. But then the mystic stepped into her life and explained so much to her. That in itself didn't change her. But when the real catalyst came in, she saw that settling to what she could be comfortable with just wouldn't do. She had to seek what would make her happy, both in career and in love.

I know what became of Astra, and I have an idea of what will become of Miranda. I have no idea what will become of me. I can't wait to find out.

That was a bit of a tangent. Let's just multiply everything through by a cosine and all will be good.