In the year that I've been gone from WhereIlive, the radio stations have altered, and now almost all of them seem to be Christian radio. Because of this, my choices are fairly limited, and in the week since I've got my car back I've been listening to a lot of the Hispanic radio station: the music is okay, and they have relatively few commercials. Listening to the station is a bit of a bizarre experience, though. For one thing, I obviously don't understand most of what the announcer or the singers are saying, but every now and again they'll say a word I do recognise, so it sounds like this: "blahblahblahblahperoblahblahblahsiempreblahblahcorazon." The structure, as makes sense, is such that these words occur completely at random, and as a result I get unfeasibly excited when one of them crops up: Oh, my God, I KNOW THAT WORD. This is only reasonable, it seems to me, since the announcers themselves seem to get unfeasibly excited at the drop of a hat: "blahblah SÁBADO!!!!! blahblahblah ESTA NOCHE!!! blahblahBLAHBLAHBLAH!" Yowza! I love watching football on Telemundo, because whenever there's a goal the commentator gets so excited he practically froths at the mouth, but it now seems that all Hispanic life (or at least public life) is a series of apoplectic excitements. Golly.
Anyway, that's not what tonight's post is about. Tonight's post is about hearts, which have been on my mind for a little while now. Things that happened before I left and things that have happened since I arrived here have prompted me to spend some of my time contemplating unrequited love, and I've been struck by something that's struck me before. And that is, in a situation where one person loves and another person does not, almost without fail well-wishers will tell the one who loves, in various ways, to unstick his or her heart. The most common version of this is that they tell the lover to look around for someone else (often making suggestions). But almost never, as far as I know, do well-wishers suggest to the one who does not love that perhaps he or she might try a little harder to do so.
I know this tendency is natural, but I still find it striking. As everybody knows, the heart that loves cannot be forced to unlove - indeed, in many cases it continues to love despite the desires and best efforts of the one who owns it. And it doesn't switch allegiance like a puppy at a bacon festival. Indeed, one could say with some justification that it's much easier to fall in love than it is to fall out of love - after all, one is attracted to people every day, however passingly. And everyone, without fail, wants someone to love them, and to really love them: fully, givingly, forgivingly, understandingly, interestedly. Yet rare indeed is the person who says to the recipient of the unrequited love, "Dude [dude being an ungendered form of address here], you should reconsider. This person loves you, and that's a valuable thing: you should give him/her a try. You never know." But you know what? Having seen what I have seen lately, I'm going to say that, just once and generally. If someone loves you, and you don't love them back, consider giving them a try. You never know. At worst, you'll make them very happy, and it's good to put a little more happiness in the world. Plus, frankly, there are not that many suitable fish in the sea, and you shouldn't let a chance at your own happiness slip by. Obviously, this does not apply if you actively don't want to be with the person: if you don't like them, or if you are interested in someone else, or several someone elses. But otherwise...
And now here is tonight's photo. It's of my dress form.
I realise it may seem odd to post a picture of your dress form on your blog, but I really like mine. I bought her as a Ph.D. graduation present to myself, and I named her Catherine because that's what I think my name ought to have been. Alas, the year after I bought her I lost a lot of weight, and now she's too big to be any good to me. So I'm going to sell her on ebay. But I will always remember her with fondness, because while she lasted she was incredibly useful to me. Ave atque vale, Catherine! (That's the shell of the blouse I'm making for O that she's wearing, by the way.)
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1 comment:
Just catching up on this post. Somehow I missed it.
The one exception I can think of to your assertion that nobody suggests that an unmoved beloved reconsider loving his/her lover is Jane Austen. She believe that as often as not one person starts and the other person, with gratitude and humility at being the object of such flattering affection, comes around. She says as much in Northanger Abbey. This does not, of course, excuse those involved in the sale of Marianne in Sense & Sensibility, but it is the theory behind it, I think. FWIW.
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