Love is the absurd catch-all term for the dichotomy that runs, destroys, and yet, saves our world.
To some, the word has a plethora of definitions and connotations—to others, love is love is love. The phrase "I love you" is a criminally lackadaisical attempt to express what one feels. Some of you may be puttering to yourselves, "But sometimes, saying 'I love you' is the only/perfect way to express something that you can't put into words! That's the beauty of love; it's so intense that it defies language!" Number one: you just used a semicolon, which you must never do, because it's showy and irrelevant—like a cocksucker. Number two: you just said "only slash perfect" in conversation, and annunciating punctuation is just as absurd as using a semicolon. Number three: this is just contributing evidence to the fact that "love" kills brain cells by making one utterly deficient in their vocabulary.
How is it then, that a term so broad, vague, and ambiguous can mean everything, and yet, nothing simultaneously?
The love a mother has for her child, the love a 17 year old has for their paycheck, and the love two people share romantically do have their differences, but if they are all lopped together under the same term, there must be one common factor that unites them. What is this factor? Is it a genuine interest in the other's well-being? Possibly, but I'm not so sure how that Taco Bell blood-money is going to feel when traded in for a new snowboarding jacket. Perhaps we will not count inanimate objects as valid things to love. I suppose then, a genuine caring for another's well-being does constitute as love, however, we must examine the subtle complexities that lurk beneath this otherwise warm and fuzzy situation. Have you ever said "I love you" to someone and finished the sentence inside your head with "and you're damn lucky because of it"? I use "lucky" not in the sense that I'm some inflatable carnival prize (or glittering thing inside a small light-blue box) but rather to reinforce the fact that there is an invisible list of check-boxes in which a person must achieve all of the checks in order to receive my love. This is should not be a horrifying realization, I mean, these checks are commonly accepted as: "You must be attractive", "We must have a few key interests in common", and "You cannot be my brother."
Anyway, Kat, it's your turn to fix my errors and institute your expertise. Iroquoy and Apache-style.
To some, the word has a plethora of definitions and connotations—to others, love is love is love. The phrase "I love you" is a criminally lackadaisical attempt to express what one feels. Some of you may be puttering to yourselves, "But sometimes, saying 'I love you' is the only/perfect way to express something that you can't put into words! That's the beauty of love; it's so intense that it defies language!" Number one: you just used a semicolon, which you must never do, because it's showy and irrelevant—like a cocksucker. Number two: you just said "only slash perfect" in conversation, and annunciating punctuation is just as absurd as using a semicolon. Number three: this is just contributing evidence to the fact that "love" kills brain cells by making one utterly deficient in their vocabulary.
How is it then, that a term so broad, vague, and ambiguous can mean everything, and yet, nothing simultaneously?
The love a mother has for her child, the love a 17 year old has for their paycheck, and the love two people share romantically do have their differences, but if they are all lopped together under the same term, there must be one common factor that unites them. What is this factor? Is it a genuine interest in the other's well-being? Possibly, but I'm not so sure how that Taco Bell blood-money is going to feel when traded in for a new snowboarding jacket. Perhaps we will not count inanimate objects as valid things to love. I suppose then, a genuine caring for another's well-being does constitute as love, however, we must examine the subtle complexities that lurk beneath this otherwise warm and fuzzy situation. Have you ever said "I love you" to someone and finished the sentence inside your head with "and you're damn lucky because of it"? I use "lucky" not in the sense that I'm some inflatable carnival prize (or glittering thing inside a small light-blue box) but rather to reinforce the fact that there is an invisible list of check-boxes in which a person must achieve all of the checks in order to receive my love. This is should not be a horrifying realization, I mean, these checks are commonly accepted as: "You must be attractive", "We must have a few key interests in common", and "You cannot be my brother."
Anyway, Kat, it's your turn to fix my errors and institute your expertise. Iroquoy and Apache-style.
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