Soundtracked

30DIC Day 30: Give

         

PROMPT: "If a 25-year-old asked you advice about dating what would your recommend? Date younger, older or the same age? Who should approach who? Has the dating scene really changed that much?"

What's up you guys? Yup, it's Friday, and it's the last day of the month, which means I'm gonna have to find something else to do with my time. You might think I make this blogging thing look easy, but I've got a team of malnourished hamsters in a series of interconnected cages who run in wheels day and night churning out potential topics and tidbits of information...which I promptly shred and use to pad my own personal mattress with to lay upon while I watch them work past exhaustion . They're not gonna know what to do with themselves either once the blistering heart from my laptop's fan eases into a cool July breeze.

And what's up with people always wanting advice from me, like I'm some kind of legend or guru? I'm probably the last person anyone should be asking for dating recommendations. The prompt should probably be the other way around, with me asking 25-year-olds advice on how to enter the 21st-century dating world. See, back in my day, we met face-to-face and got sloppy drunk together before hookin' up at my place. Like a real man! Not this "stare at the phone and swipe" bullshit. What a waste of time. Can't have sex with a drunk iPhone! (Unless you have, in which case, please stop reading my blog. Thanks.)

And how should I know who should do the approaching? I'm insecure and awkward, so if I were to approach someone at best I'd come across as a meddling toddler who thinks he's a big shot (and at worst probably be mistaken for someone on a sex offender registry). I'm a bad combo of things...if it can be combined with anything, when it hits me it's an experiment gone awry. Remember that time you wanted to make "big changes" so you frosted and permed your hair? I'm that, but I also made you bald.

What doesn't help is that every relationship I've been in has always been just quirky enough to be different from the average relationship, and yet that's like one thing (among many reasons) that adds to why it's been doomed. The main reason though has always been me, and my paranoia/neurotic tendencies/anxiety/depression/flat-fuck weirdness. I ruin perfectly good, alright, doable things. And sometimes I cannot help it.

But you're not here for my sob stories, and I don't want your pity. I have Kitti the Red-Nosed Feline and she's great and I love her to pieces and I'm determined not to ruin that, and also she's like thousands of miles away right now so it's easier to not break what you can't touch. No, you came for advice and as a former 25-year-old, I can only speak from experience. Be young. Have fun. Bang as many chicks or dudes or both as you want. Break some hearts, but don't be afraid to get your heart broken...it's the only way you're really gonna know what you want. And by the time you figure that out, you'll likely have also realized it'll probably never be attainable again, so start the process over. Be young. Have fun...

And dating isn't just swapping cash for food, goods, and services with someone you like in hopes of maybe making out with them later...it's also the trading of ideas and ideals. It's give-and-take. It's the learning process, but it's been thrown into the fire...sometimes you end up with a boyfriend or girlfriend, and sometimes you end up with first-degree burns.

The last poem I've written for this year's "30 Day Image Prompt Contest - CLOSED"  kinda touches a little on the fear and trading of ideas aspects...in a perfect world there are a certain amount of equals between two people, and things we may not totally be on board with but can live with, and stuff we just won't go for. You date to see how many equals you have with as many people as you can until you find what you think is the most, and then you try and try and try and hopefully along the way get married because in both your eyes, that person is your equal-est (fact: that's a made-up word). Or, conversely, you just find someone who you can have amazing sex with, and pray that neither of you wants more amazing-er sex with other people. Wait...I think I was talking about the poem and got off track. You kids out there, don't be afraid to give of yourselves. Everyone you meet is giving you a piece of themselves, and taking a bit of you with them. Sometimes, you're gonna get hurt, and that's alright. Don't be like me and swear that's the end and you'll never date another person, no how no way forever-ever; let it build your resolve to love without fear or shame. Stay who you are; be the person people want to love. My therapist says he thinks* chicks dig that (*he didn't really say that; I'm saying it now for effect, and it's probably not really as funny now as it might've been had I not said that I said it and not my therapist).

Or whatever, date or don't date, I don't care what you kids and your stupid dating apps do. Just stay off my damn lawn  . Enjoy this corny, sing-songy lyrics-y thing and do whatever makes you happy, in whichever way you see fit.

Give

I don't know how long you can insist
that "nobody wants to see me like this"
as if you're some kind of insult on
bachelors in cargo shorts and flip-flops.
You're never gonna unimpress me
or alienate the alien within me.
You don't have to do a thing to see
that the key to being is to let go and be.

Why is it that we always insist
"nobody's ever gonna understand this"
when it's us that never seems to get
we command and much as we comprehend?
The world's proven it's big enough for you,
and I can show you there's room for two.
There's semantics and then there's proof
that when you're a giver, you'll recoup.

Don't look, just give...it'll come back to you.
Don't judge, just trust...there is nothing to lose.
Don't hate, just love...you're so long overdue.
Don't look, just give...it'll come back to you.

And don't listen when the world insists
that nobody cares what you think about this.
You're a bird that's learning how to fly
and even if you fall you won't run out of sky.
One answer doesn't end all the questions
and one failure doesn't cancel future missions.
You're only as good as you're giving.
Share your love kindly and share your life freely.

Don't look, just give...it'll come back to you.
Don't judge, just trust...there is nothing to lose.
Don't hate, just love...you're so long overdue.
Don't look, just give...it'll come back to you.

         "Give"  from "Also Mutants" .

Awwww yeah, my favorite Canadian band, on the eve of Canada Day...last weekend I had the pleasure of enjoying a long-distance date night with Kitti the Red-Nosed Feline , and we watched the worldwide rebroadcast of their last (and most likely final, ever) concert from last summer. She was barely familiar with The Tragically Hip; I'd seen them live five times (six, if you include a solo gig from the lead singer). And she sat through the nearly three hour show, and loved it. That's devotion...not me paying hundreds of dollars in cds and merch and concert tix over the years, but her investing that kind of time to spend with me over a band she's hardly ever listened to . And this is absolutely an underrated song about dating perhaps, maybe falling in love eventually even.

"Fly"   -The Tragically Hip

"Love is to try, and die trying."

As always, the hamster staff and I here at "Soundtracked"  Media are always looking for ways to reach a diverse crowd, and use a various set of means to accomplish this. That's why some days men may find my entries more appealing, while other days they cater more to women. There's nothing wrong with that, young and aspiring bloggers...it's ok to try and please as many people as you can. The other day I was talking to Kit and I found a link about vaginas and I shared it with her and we had a good laugh; one of the jokes in that link nearly inspired a line that unfortunately didn't make it into the poem I was working on that day ("Yellow Smog" ), and now I can't even find that link anymore, dammit...something about a vag that "puffs dust", which I thought was truly hilarious. And now that the secret's fully out that I'm a full-on fucking weirdo, have some memes that people with vaginas will find funnier   than people with penises will.

Ok, to prove that I'm not totally unromantic or hate relationships or anything grumpy or mean or whatever derogatory epitaphs were hurled at me yesterday because I don't watch television much, there's a book coming out in which the main characters are involved in an interspecies romance  ...annnnnnnd cue all the folks who questioned if people marrying their dogs   was what was gonna happen once the US legalized gay marriage. I'm all for books and not stupid people.

And finally, allllllllllriiiiiiiiiight you got me, I'm kinda definitely a bit of a romantic, and I've been saving this story in my Pocket app for months just in case I decided to blog again ever, and now I have, and even though it's not Christmas and it's fucking Sahara-hot outside right now I'm sharing it anyway just to prove to you that I love love: this dude sat in a coffee shop and live-tweeted watching a girl tell her coworker she's got feelings for him  . Jerry was the hero we needed at the end of 2016 to carry us into 2017 with hope after a year of heartbreak and despair...may we all one day be so lucky to witness such a beautiful story playing out in front of us, and if not, may we always have Jerry to tell us one.

That's it for me folks...it's been a hell of a ride this month, and I'm glad you came along. Come down and join me in July at the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS"  where I provide some non-picture prompts and you can compete for kickass prizes...all the cool kids hang out there when it's too rainy to go swimming, and you also don't have to wait a half hour after eating to join the debauchery. Peace, I might turn a broom into a tree, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!