About Love Stories

Post 426:

            Love can be a real nasty bit of business. One of the most confusing emotions, mostly due to centuries of propaganda.

            Love conquers all. All you need is love. Love lift me up… other love things.

            I’d agree that all you need is love. If you include all the other stuff.

            Here’s where I might be allowing myself to be misconstrued. I’m not necessarily talking about love with your soul mate or whatever, although that can be a real kick in the groin—one which I’ve repeatedly experienced, in the figurative sense.

            No, I’m being more general. I’m talking about true love, yes, but we can love all sorts of things. Maybe you love fixing old cars. Or beer. Or fixing old cars while drinking beer. Maybe you love painting or finding the right type of scarf for that outfit—it doesn’t matter—there’s no limit to the things we can love. As long as it’s not creepy, I say, have at it.

            I love stories. I suspect that most people do too, but this is a big one for me. Big enough to write my own. Big enough to spend my days learning new ways to express the things that people have been expressing for eons plus time plus forever. It’s just, we have this thing—me and stories.

            So it should be frigging awesome, right? As a lover of writing, writing should always be fun and super invigorating—I mean, that’s how this shiz works.

            Of course not. Nobody gets along with the people or the things they love most of the time. It’s hard and frustrating and it probably seems like a never-ending cycle of same old same old, but that’s just because of the propaganda.

            Here’s the hard and square: It was fun at the beginning, and every so often that old magic comes back, making all the aforementioned drudgery worth the squeeze it puts on your private bits.

            Don’t flee the scene because you’re going through a rough patch. This goes for fixing cars or your lady love or your writing career. Unless the engine falls on your face. Or if the lady tries to run you over. Or if the story you’re working on is making you lose sight of reality.

            Then, maybe give it a rest.

            Short of that, carry on soldiers. Here’s to you and the ones you love. See you after.