Skip to main content

What is Love?

Baby, don't hurt me.

Sorry about that.
This entry should really fall under the "makes you wonder" category and thus the other blog, but it's something that I've been thinking about since moving to Chicago, so it stays here - as this is the Chicago/entertainment world/whatever it is blog.

I was on the bus home from the first time I've ever done improv on a stage in front of people who weren't my classmates (went alright, more nerve wracking than I expected) and I got to thinking.

Over the last month or so I've had to say goodbye to an awful lot of people. Not permanent goodbyes, thankfully, as I think I've done a pretty good job keeping up with most of them.
These people are my closest friends and family and they mean the world to me.
So when I tell these people that I love them, it comes as no surprise. They say it back in most cases, and we go on our way.

But we never stop and try to articulate it.

There were at least two people who I had planned on having long, emotional talks with in order to try articulating what they meant to me, but in both cases the emotional toll was too high and nothing substantial came out.

It's incredibly hard to say what you feel. But try it.

Sometimes it comes out slowly over time, sometimes it just rushes out of you in one fell swoop. But my god, it makes a difference.

If I told you that I loved you, loyal reader, your reaction would be slightly flattered, but that's about it.

But if I told you that I loved the way you look at me, or that I loved that some idiotic thing you saw at the grocery store made you absolutely need to call me, or if I know that we both thought exactly the same things but couldn't say them because we were both too busy crying. Those mean more.
I love the little things, and the little things are where it gets emotional. Sharing a memory that's stuck with you forever, or a memory that led to some sort of epiphany in your life...that's much more powerful than just assuming that the other person understands what "love" means.

You often hear that it's a "loaded word," but it's over-loaded. It's so loaded that elements of it get lost in the shuffle.

My challenge is for you to say those elements. Call someone and tell them that you love them, but then tell them why. It can be your best friend, your brother/sister/parent/grandparent, your boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife/fiance/e. I don't care who it is, just say something you haven't said before to see how it feels and how they react.

Only got one chance at this wild and precious life, folks.
Get after it.


On a lighter note, I'm 24 and the expression "hump day" still makes me giggle from time to time.



and PS, I'll write about improv and comedy sketch-writing classes soon, I swear.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I Have to Write about Basketball

I have about an hour to write out my thoughts about the NBA Finals since I didn't want to at 1 a.m. and I have to be at work soon (and I'll be there for a longer-than-normal day). So here goes. 1) Everyone wants to talk about Steph Curry, and everyone should  be talking about Steph Curry. I don't get it. He's the best shooter in NBA history - although Klay Thompson is hot on his heels - and yet there's something amiss at surprising times. I don't believe in "clutch" the way a lot of people do, because if Steph doesn't hit a million threes all the time, the Warriors are never in position for him to take a game-winner in the Finals (they also don't make the Finals). All of them are worth three points, so they need the first one as much as they need the last one. But something kind of happens, doesn't it? And doesn't it affect his legacy a tiny bit? Steph shot 34.3% on three-pointers this series. Toronto was all over  him defensivel

I Think I'm Afraid of Art

For a little while now I've been feeling a bit empty. Part of it is the overarching malaise of living in 2018 America. Part of it is being at a crossroads in life and not knowing which way to turn. Part of it is because it's been 90+ degrees outside for most of the past month. There's not really a great answer to all of it, but it's happening. But one of the things that I keep thinking about is how I think I'd like to start drawing. Or painting. Or something. I want to make visual art, but I'm completely terrified of it. What's more, I don't think I consider my own artistic pursuits to be "good" enough to actually pursue. I explored this idea a little bit on an Instagram post where I edited a photo, and it has kept me thinking further about this. With words, I don't have any issues with confidence, and that means I don't second-guess what I said. Even if I say something that pisses people off, I have confidence in the fact that I (

Shenandoah, Northern Virginia, and Racists

Jenna and I spent a chunk of this week in Northern Virginia, in the area around Shenandoah National Park. Shenandoah (which it turns out I've been pronouncing incorrectly for my entire life) was great. There were hikes of all levels and lengths, varying difficulty, varying crowd-levels, and lots more. The park wasn't in full-swing yet, as some of the camping areas don't open until "summer," but there were still plenty of people out enjoying nature, which is nice. Being in nature gets me thinking. After a day of driving along Skyline Drive and doing several small hikes, we hiked a trail called Bearfence . After an incredibly fun scramble up the rocks to the actual peak, we were greeted with what I can only imagine is the best lookout point in the entire park. Sitting on top of a mountain - looking over dozens of other mountains - is a special feeling. As tiny houses in tiny faraway towns fill your vision, you start to think about how those are just people. From