the ramble

By Brief Roommate

Today, we pull ourselves the heck together.

Today, we tell Romeo & Juliet, Guinevere & Lancelot, Paris & Helena, Heathcliff & Catherine, Scarlett & Rhett, Meg Ryan & (Insert Dashing Male Co-star), Carrie and Mr. Big, Edward & Bella, and everyone associated with The Bachelor(ette) to go ahead and shove it.

Today, we JUST SAY NO to dysfunctional love.

Join me, friends and comrades! On this glorious day, we free ourselves of the bonds of media-perpetuated nonsense that tells us our relationships are meaningless until someone is indulging in ill-mannered shenanigans! We say NO, stupid American love mythology, WE WILL NOT dispense with all good judgment, ethical boundaries, or shreds of dignity in service of the cultural imperative that Love Conquers All.

Love is consuming and intoxicating, yes. Love is something extraordinary that transforms the mundane. Love can make us feel CRAZY. We know.

BUT.

But.

Love is not submitting to every urge to hop on the Crazy Train.

Love is not going back again and again to the person who treats you like crap and cannot commit to you whilst telling yourself that epic love is ultimately going to change said person (see: addiction; self-delusion).

Love is not throwing yourself off a cliff or in front of a bus in despair because you cannot have the person you want (see: clinical depression).

Love is definitely NOT following someone around, watching them in their sleep, and trying to make all their decisions for them “for their own good” (see: stalking; abusive relationship; Twilight).

Neither is love two weeks of infatuation.

Neither is love cheating on your significant other because of your overwhelming googly feelings for New Shiny Person or Old Flame Person who will never break your heart or have any deal-breaking faults (right?).

Neither is love constant bickering, constant work, or constant abandonment of good sense and common decency.

Today we reaffirm our commitment to grown-up behavior, to decisions made intentionally and treated thoughtfully rather than as an itch we have to scratch.

We will not stand on doorsteps in the pouring rain disturbing the neighbors with mournful wails of regret or accusations of wrongdoing.

We will not drunk text our ex at 3am because we just thought of a brilliant, pithy way to make the scathing point in 160 characters or less that we’ve been wanting to make for weeks.

We will certainly not blurt out all of the things we are thinking and feeling that very moment just because they are so REAL and TRUE and subsequently blame “love” for the resulting train wreck.

And should we falter, as we are all liable to do sometimes, we will not expect to be rewarded for our haphazard flailing with happily ever after.

Not today, friends. Today, we join Sassy Gay Friend, and Corinthians 13:4-7 in declaring ourselves free free of dysfunction, free of self-serving tripe masquerading as affection, free of manipulation, drama, and psychobabble. We demand the kind of love that makes us better, that seeks and honors wholeness in others, that sometimes requires hard choices. We demand love without deception or temper tantrums, love that inspires us to take great care rather than to smash things up. Love that endures because it is greater than self.

And if we simply cannot get over ourselves long enough to manifest our way to compassionate, decent, transcendent love? Well. There’s always this in a pinch.

The downfall of our world is this:

We do not know how to love.

We sing about it. Write about it. Shout it from the rooftops. Say it quickly. Say it often. Say it with fear and trembling. Or say it with excitement.

Without any idea of what it means.

That it’s not a feeling. Not magic. Not an UNCONTROLLABLE FORCE that sweeps us away without our consent.

“You can’t help who you love,” we say.

Bullshit.

It’s a thousand choices. To put someone else first. To make another’s life better. To sacrifice. To build up. To not tear down. To keep quiet. To speak up.

You can help who you love. And how well you love.

It’s patient. It’s kind. It looks simple when done well, but it is not simple. Not effortless. We’re broken and it doesn’t come naturally to us. Even babies want their way.

What if we loved one another? What if we listened, watched, took care of each other?

It would change everything.

Our failures would dim. Our successes would build. And even in failure, would we be content to know someone loved us anyway? Chose to. No matter what. Not because we won something, did something, were something. But because we are us. Children of God. Beautiful with even our flaws.

Depression? Hate? Wouldn’t they just fade away?

While we felt loved, listened to. But not self-absorbed.

Absorbed in loving back.

Passing it along.

Because love has to go both ways. It’s a web, a net to get caught in. I love you. You love me. We love them. They love us. We have to learn to love to save ourselves. Not be saved without any effort.

This is my manifesto.

To love.

Not perfectly, perhaps. But the best I can. Growing, I hope, day by day. Taking two steps forward for every stumble.

Finding balance.

Between loving you.

The you I know and the you I don’t.

And loving me. Even though I know my flaws better than anyone.

Not expecting perfection from either of us. But wanting it. Pursuing it. Moving toward it.

Loving.

And thus changing everything.

A few weeks ago, I asked several of my clever, wordsmithy, hilarious and/or insightful friends to contribute to a week of manifestos! I call it the Manifesto Fest! Because, boy, am I clever.

That manifesto week starts now. First, I’ll let you in on the inspiration for the Manifesto Fest by sharing my final email to these very clever folks:

Dear Kumquats,

I am writing you today because: A. you are all fabulous and B. in your fabulousness, you have agreed to write a manifesto for my FABULOUS MANIFESTO WEEK OF MANIFESTO-NESS!

Currently, I’m planning for this Manifesto Fest to happen the first week of May, but you can certainly send the manifestos sooner.

In case you’ve forgotten, the inspiration for Manifesto Fest came from this: http://www.kimmok.com/514799/THE-MANIFESTO-MANIFESTO

You should probably also read Wikipedia’s entry, because that’s where we Americans get our information: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manifesto (I knew I liked the word Manifesto…and now I know why…it’s Italian!)

Need a manifesto example? The communists wrote one. http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1848/communist-manifesto/

You want another link? Okay. Puppies! http://cutepuppiespictures.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/cute-face-puppies.jpg

Now, go forth and be clever, be insightful, be hilarious or be someone who links to puppies. I am okay with all these things.

Please send your manifestos to me no later than May 1. Otherwise I will make you read the whole Communist Manifesto.

Much love & Manifesto-ambition,

Gigi

.One.
One night, a few weeks ago, I was taking the dog for one last potty break before bed. On my way down the stairwell whose railing has been broken and dangerous since I moved in, I passed my new creepy neighbor: stumbling, drunk and bleeding from a gash in his head. Obviously, this was upsetting and frightening, and I rushed the dog out into the yard and then back into the house as quickly as possible.

.Two.
About a week or so later, the same creepy neighbor was locked out of his apartment by the girlfriend-roommate-whatever. I was again taking the dog for her nightly potty, when I watched the drama unfold before me. He was camped out on the doorstep, yelling for her to let him in, calling her names, shouting something about how if he didn’t get let in he’d end up in jail (WTF?). He was drunk and loud and probably violent. And again I shuffled the dog quickly out and back in.

I could still hear him from my living room. Screaming, pounding. And I called the Police.

I haven’t seen him since. Not stumbling up the stairs with a gash in his forehead. Nor pounding on the door using the C-Word. Nor leaning over the railing smoking and leering. So maybe he did go to jail.

.One.

Luna is afraid of things. And by things, I mean: geese, cats, the sink and the street (hoorah for the last one). Each of these things, if I am holding her, results in a mad struggle to get away. Because, someplace in her brain, the part that is supposed to tell her that the safest place to be is high above each of these things is not working. It is especially fun when I am holding my morning Starbucks and her at the same time. But you would probably be terrified too–if geese and cats were three times your size.

.Two.

Last night I was over at the Old House and Small Biting Dog came running up to greet me. First I would like to note that I have missed Small Biting Dog and said greeting made me very happy. Secondly I would like to note that somehow, some way, Small Biting Dog seemed HUGE to me in that moment. This is the power of getting used to things: get used to a four pound dog and suddenly a nine pound dog is enormous.

.Three.

Things Luna is not afraid of include: the vet, medicine, getting drop kicked by other dogs and the bathtub. I find the final item in this list rather humorous, as her not being afraid of the bathtub translates into her sticking her face into it during my shower. This, of course, results in a dripping-faced dog whose only ambition in life is to lick my foot as I step out of the tub.

She also wants to get into the bathtub and wander around and try to eat any stray hairs or dirt that she finds. Though I will note that she hasn’t asked to get into the tub since I gave her a bath (she does still stick her face in during my shower, though).

.Four.

There is a dog behind our full length mirror. Of this fact, Luna is certain. But she’ll only bark at this dog if she doesn’t think I am watching, or if the petsitter is trying to study. She has also done her own little investigation of behind said mirror, which is propped against the wall at the moment. This investigation, which has happened approximately 200 times, has resulted in her not finding this other dog. Which is sad, because according to her barks, she would like to kill it like she killed that clothes hanger the other day.