Mazes and Sums

"You have to believe that life is more than the sum of its parts, kiddo."

I watched The United States of Leland for the first time in a long time today, and if I had a strong emotional connection to the movie before, it was made all the more poignant watching it again at this point in my life. More than anything, the quote from Mrs. Calderon stuck out to my, and her words rang through my head for the rest of the day.

It seems like such a simple concept, but it's a monumental task to perform. Believing the truth in that statement may be one of the most difficult things a person could do in their lives. Try as I might,  at the notion; that all our brokenness, all the loose pieces and frayed ends that make up our lives could somehow, when put into context and seen as a whole, give the events true meaning.

Now, I am a Catholic, and I believe in God. Sure, I know a lot about my faith, but I've never really thought about the idea that everything I've been through had a purpose. All the pain I've gone through, the hardships my family has endured, the people we've lost, the mistakes I've made... The idea that somehow it could be for our betterment unnerves me to no end. I don't know what scares me more, the idea that nothing has meaning except for what we assign to it, or the idea that everything I've had to go through in my life is honestly there for some purpose that I can't see.

Maybe I just can't see it the right way, like a rat in a maze. Hopefully, I find the exit that goes to the cheese instead of the electro-shock-y things.

A Much-Needed Rant

I'm probably not going to feel this way when I wake up tomorrow, but there's too much going on inside to everything simmer until morning. I'm not usually like this, and the fact that it's coinciding with Valentine's Day is just a coincidence... I think.

Humans are awful, miserable creatures. Not merely content with the difficulties of life and the problems we face from simply trying to survive, we have to create even more problems for ourselves. Human interaction brings nothing but pain and hardship, even the most successful ones. The sad thing is that our minds filter the experience, leaving only the pleasant ones and shutting out the painful ones. Rose-colored lenses that fuck us up and make things seem better than they really are. Why do we do this?

Love.

Not real love, of course. The notion of love. The idea. The impossibility of being able to describe love leads to false notions of what love could be. Those who haven't felt love mistake some other kind of emotion for love, and end up clinging to it for dear life. In spite of all the signs, all the warnings and signposts that signal an unhealthy relationship, they tell themselves that this really is love, and force themselves to believe in something that's not really there. A cynical view, I suppose, but one that I think everyone can either relate to personally, or recognize as happening to someone else. Of course, if it is happening to you, you won't know it. You'll still be in ignorant blissful misery.

Am I talking about this out of personal experience? I couldn't say. It's impossible for someone to view themselves dispassionately when they're in the midst of the situation. Emotions cloud judgments, anger creates problems that stay in spite of the emotion's fleeting nature. Fuck, I'm starting to sound like a Stoic. Stupid philosophy class, making me draw connections to my life.

I didn't start writing this with an end in mind, only to get my thoughts down in writing. I don't have an answer to this problem, and there's no way to fix past mistakes. This is a problem that people are going to be having for as long as that elusive idea of love continues to seduce people with it's allure.

Fuck love.