On This Modern Love

Before you read on, read these two excellent posts by current (and former, sad!) NYU Localites, for they were an inspiration for this post:

Annie’s “on being vulnerable”

Jess’ “On Letting Love In”

Both of these pieces are framed within the female existence, yet they speak to something genderless: the desire (not need) to be loved. There is weakness to falling in love; its the best weakness of all. Its your admittance to the world that you are strong enough to fall in love with someone else, strong enough to reveal all of your weaknesses to another human being. I don’t think that it matters whether you are a man or a woman, there is something to be admired in people who are in love. This is why the thought of “cold quasi-relationships”, as Annie calls them, is so off-putting. There is a place for loveless sex, and I’m definitely not here to say that you’re a horrible person if you have that type of relationship with sex (that would make me a pretty big hypocrite, among other things). The problem is that some people, myself included, fall into these quasi-relationships because they don’t want to reveal their weaknesses, especially to another person, much less to themselves.

In this modern world, there seems to be a blurring of the lines between male and female roles in relationships, but not a complete dissolving of them. That’s why, even in 2010, there’s still a stigma for the “needy” woman and the “detached” man. Cynics are right this time, if only because they make it true: by perpetuating these stereotypes, we are creating a society of people afraid to fall in modern love. What’s modern love? What does that even mean? It means equality, partnership, and, well, love. It means being with someone  else, while still retaining your own identity, without weakening your bond. Sounds confusing? Of course. Its the most confusing thing in the world, this idea of individualism versus dependence. Is it unachievable? I don’t think so. At least, I hold out to the hope that it isn’t.

Another problem with modern love is that relationships rely on honesty which at times leads to earnestness, that most despised quality within the twenty-somethings of our time. As Jess writes, we must avoid it at all costs: “We steel ourselves, build up walls, say something earnest and then immediately follow it with a self-deprecating joke, because we’re afraid: afraid of becoming the 1950’s “needy” equivalent of ourselves, afraid of seeming like we might actually care.” This is not a female problem (well, maybe this specific one is, but you’ll see what I mean in a second), but rather a problem of expectations for both men and woman. “Caring is Creepy”, at least according to the (hipster?) band The Shins. If you care too much, you fall into the dregs of romantic society, that place where you grow old alone, and with cats (or dogs, if you’re cool). Yet, a successful relationship (you know, one of those with a loving couple) relies on caring about another human being, mostly ahead of yourself. Can you have love with caring? I don’t think so, and I hate that this makes me seem weak. Not because I’m a man and must be detached, but because I’m a human being, and fuck it, I want to be in love.

I’ll leave this with one of my favorite “love” songs of all time, the one that inspired this blog post’s title: Bloc Party’s “This Modern Love”. To answer you, Kele, this is why we’re so damn scared of romance.

What I Listen to When I Listen to “High School” Music

I get a lot of shit for my music. Deservedly so, at times. For example, I am writing this as “Dance, Dance” (Fall Out Boy) is playing on my headphones. Why didn’t I just skip when shuffle picked it? Well…

I was a normal, if hyperactive, high schooler. And by normal, I mean completely abnormal, because I had, for the most part, a great high school experience. I wasn’t “emo” except in the way that I wanted to be loved. Who doesn’t? (Song update: Saves the Day ft Get Up Kids – The Last Lie I Told. I swear this was just on shuffle) However, I was blessed with great friends, great times, and a surprisingly good run during my 6 years at Miami Country Day School. There were bad times, of course, but they seemed so insignificant at times; mostly, I always felt “not alone”. There were always people to share my life with.

That changed, in a way, when I came to NYU. Its not a stereotype: people in NYC are more detached from each other. It seems harder to communicate what is going on in my life. Instead, I live it with these new people, then discuss it with my old friends. It seems so weird, because back in HS, I could always talk to someone who knew the characters involved in the play that was life. Now, I feel like I’m always saying “my friend” rather than *Insert name here*. (Song update: Say Anything – A Walk Through Hell. Yep, High School).

What does this have to do with me unironically listening to Paramore, Say Anything, etc? They remind me of those times. Nostalgia, that bitch. I’m not unhappy with my current life (and by extension, my current music taste). In fact, almost the opposite. The evolution of my character is pretty well-personified by the music I listen to now. But part of me does yearn for the days when I could listen to Saves the Day without having to say “It just reminds me of high school”. Because the fact of the matter is that I listen to these bands because they remind me of the times when everything seemed more important than it was, and when happiness was just a school day away.

LCD Soundsystem pictures.

I hate the iPhone camera.

Sweep me off my feet, singing “ain’t this life so sweet?”

So I just watched The Girl Next Door for the first time in a while. I am unashamed to admit my love for this movie. I don’t know what it is, whether it be the fact that I find it hilarious, the fact that Elisha Cuthbert is in it, or the fact that its one of the more secretly romantic movies that I like. Either way, I always get really happy when I watch it, yet (like everything else, basically) it also makes me relatively sad. You see, it came out a month and 25 days after I broke up with my first serious girlfriend, and the only girl I’ve ever been in love with. Those of you know who know me know how this ended, and I don’t want to relive those last few moments. Anyway, this movie shows me how things can be when its not fucked up. Its funny to think that a movie about a porn star falling in love with a high school senior is less fucked up than my real life situation.

Either way, this movie makes me long for what I had, for that one year where I knew I was in love, for that time when I wasn’t so bitter and jaded and cynical. It makes me long for love, which seems trite (after all, how can a teen comedy make me feel for something I had when I was barely a teenager?), but its true. I don’t understand love, perhaps because I was too young when I last felt it, but I long to feel it. I long to be within the embrace of its arms. It may seem like the girl doesn’t even matter, that I just want love, and to a certain extent, that seems true. But alas, I would much rather meet a wonderful girl than fall in love once more with someone that is not right for me. I don’t want love, I am greedy. I want a love that I actually feel, and that is returned.

PS – This move has one of the more underrated soundtracks, in terms of striking the right mood while hitting all the right notes within the hearts of the pathetic romantics (me, at the moment).

I have seen into the wasteland.

Being in Miami really bores the fuck out of me. That’s the best place to start with this post. I hate that it makes me feel this way now, where has my love for my hometown gone? Did I ever really have it, or was I in love with the idea of a tropical paradise? I think it has to do with my general detachment from anyone here. I don’t have many friends who are in the area, or at least people I would want to hang out with. Instead, I’m stuck at home or at my mom’s house (which is good, but I can’t handle too much of that).

I’ve been listening to a lot of music, which is what always happens when I’m bored and alone. I seem to be gravitating back to my Sunset Rubdown phase (see: title of this blog post), which always puts me in a great, if contemplative mood. I want what Spencer sings about, but somehow I’m ok with not having it. Its a weird paradox that really dominates my life: I want one thing, yet it seems like I act in direct opposition of that. I am talking, of course, of my love life. Do I ever really feel about anything else? No, probably not. So instead of doing something about it, I just brood and then when something falls into my lap, I run away from it faster than anyone should. And then I blog about it. Because that makes things better, no?

My problems seem so minuscule, so much so that I know they are. There are things in my life I should worry about more than what girl I want to fall in love with; my grades, my future, how much money I have, etc etc. But I always, against my common sense, fall back to wanting someone to love. I know love is supposed to be the grand accomplishment of humanity, which is why we have to struggle for it. That doesn’t make the waiting any better.

On meeting people at the wrong time.

It sucks.

TLDR – Origins

So this is a short story I wrote for class. Its in its first draft, so don’t judge too badly. I do appreciate any comments, however!

“Origins”

Time is the fire in which we burn

-Delmore Schwartz

Prologue

He was told that this would be the key. This would be the moment that she would love him most, the moment she would know that she needed him forever. The adventure, the expedition, the journey, they would share it all; they would share the sunrise far away from here. As they prepare, he is taken, as always, by her beautiful hair, her mane of fire, her passionate locks. She looks at him, ready for the path he is guiding her down, unsure of whether this is the right move, or the last mistake they will ever make together. He does not sense her apprehension, enthralled only by the possibility of more, the possibility that this is the light that breaks through, the darkness that engulfs them. And so they go.

I

Are you ok, my love? His whispers break the silence, the calm. They are floating, swimming, flying. In the darkness, all he sees is her hair, that mass of red, flowing along as if miles long, twinkling in the way only stars do. Alas, there are stars around, firing from her, placing themselves among the sky, smiling down, smiling up, smiling at them. He can’t believe it, yet there it is: a sun, wide as all eternity yet intimate in its heat, warming their hearts, their bodies, their everything. She is still sleeping, stirring, dreaming. Maybe that’s the part he forgot, the part he needs to remember to be one with her. He lays down on nothingness, and closes his eyes. Immediately, there is bliss unlike any he has felt, the bliss of creation, the bliss of her light against his earth. In his dreams, he sees it: the mass he’s creating, mountains forming, rivers crashing through the hills. This is theirs, a playground full of possibility, a playground full of love and power. In his dreams, he looks at her, and with a jolt, realizes she is awake, watching with an amused face as he creates a counter to her heavens. My dear, it is most beautiful, but why do you oppose me so? He does not have answer, and instead points at the earth, and goddamn, it is just so green. Her smile is gone now, filled with a look of intense fervor, as if to say Lets go down there, let us escape the expanse. And with that, she propels herself downwards, towards the end of nothing, and with a thud that shakes everything like a heavenly earthquake, she arrives, her feet feeling the grass, her eyes marveling at the beauty. He follows, and is taken by how her heavens look from down here, blazing with the fire of the thousand stars she birthed. This is theirs, and only theirs.

You do realize what we have here? She looks at him, hazel eyes burning brightly with anticipation, yet he has no response, no overarching theme, and no expectations. He only wants to share this piece of Eden with her. It is a world, and We are the Gods. He seems to understand, and so she is satisfied. Slowly, he walks to her and hugs her, an embrace that seems to light up the world, and in that moment, she is grateful that he is here, but she’s also ready for more. I want to create life. I want to feel the rush of conception once more.

II

And so they create. Slowly, life sprouts all around: the birds, soaring in the heavens that he and she just occupied, the bulls, proud and fast and unpredictable, and the fish, stealthy swimmers of the blue. There were more, of course, enough life to fill the planet, enough life to let them rule over their kingdom. But she wanted more. People. We need people. Otherwise, who will sing our praises? And so they create the first two humans, equal in creation, opposite in gender. What shall we name them? What will be the names that will resonate through history? He seems aware of the power that they have, the power to change the course of an entire world, and he belabors this choice. I think we should name her Anna and him Alexander. Of course, he thinks. There really could be no other options, and he is glad that she thought of it, his nerve would have gotten the better of him otherwise. With the creation of the two who would start the world, she looks at him with a look of exhausted joy. Let us sleep. Let them sort out the beginning of things. Let us call this the start.

And so they slept, leaving the world in the hands of humanity. It was the start, that much was true. The start of the end of the world they had created.

III

Anna and Alexander are long gone, their ashes spread over the oceans, their influence reigning over the two kingdoms. On the right side of the world, Anastasia thrives on the power of fire, using it to craft cities of glass from mere sand, using it to defeat the wilderness with arrows of flame. On the left side of the world, Alexandria sleeps frightful, yet confident: for they have found the power of stone, the power of the earth that they were gifted. The two kingdoms hold a steady truce, one that has held since before history was recorded, when Anna fought Alexander, and they both perished, leaving behind a world balanced only by its separation. Both sides knew that war was coming. They both knew that it was inevitable, and that in the future, earth and fire would clash, and the winner would be the ruler of all things. Alexandria was committed to this truce, however, for they knew that the makers would eventually return and reunite them. They believed in the last words of Alexander, the proclamation of a future so bright. They will come and avenge the sins of our world. She will come, He will come, and with them will be salvation. So the peace held, as the two kingdoms lived on for thousands of years, sheltered in their own ways, scared of what would happen when the clash came.

IV

He wakes, facing the right. What has happened here? His look is one of shock, one of disgust, one mostly of fright. She wakes, facing the left, and sees the dust rising from Alexandria, the earth that they have learned to craft so well. My love, there is a kingdom here! It worked! He remains staring at the left, at Anastasia, at the fire and smoke that pilfer the sky of its radiance. She turns and sees it too, yet her face shows no horror, only thrill. They have mastered my fire. They have mastered your earth. They have mastered every gift we left them. But he is not convinced, wondering to himself why they split the world as such. This is not what I wanted. I wanted my love to unite with hers. I did not want separation. His thoughts ravage him. Slowly, he stands up, towering over the land, and he yells. He yells as loud as his lungs allow, shaking the ground. She joins him, and fire takes over the sky, a flame that will never go out. He is frightened by this display of power, afraid of what the kingdoms are capable of, afraid that their war will infect her.

And the people of both kingdoms see this, and they are scared, and they are hostile. It is the time they all feared, the time they all expected. Their Gods have returned, and the final war would now occur.

V

They can’t stop it, neither he nor she. They look upon on the battle, they see the fires and the boulders and the clash in the middle, and they are fearful. The world is sundering around them, yet they can’t stop them. He realizes at this moment that they can’t end things, only create. So he creates a wall of earth, a barrier that rises above the middle of the world. Yet, the two kingdoms trudge on, Anastasia blasting through it, Alexandria excavating under it. They are hell-bent on destroying each other! She is doing her best to stop them as well, burning their weapons, their vehicles, and their tools of war. Yet, the two kingdoms trudge on, determined to end this world, if only for each other.

Why can’t we stop them? Where has our power gone? He whispers now, his strength gone from molding obstacles to the war, his mountains laying in rubble as the two kingdoms clash, fire and earth colliding, explosions never before seen. I can end this. I can end all of it. Let me explode. Let me kill them all. Let us start over. Her face is now full of that fiery passion he knows so well, but this time it only serves to terrify him. He did not want this world to end. He wanted only to be with her. But there is no more world. There is only death. So he gives up. Do it. Unleash hell upon those who have forsaken us.

VI

And so She does. Fire expels from Her every pore, Her every inch, burning all the green in the world, killing every man, woman and child who dares relinquish the gifts They gave them. He watches, both in awe and in terror, as She destroys all They have created. It will never be the same again, he thinks. But we must try. When this world is purged, we will try again. We will conquer it once more, create it once again. As her fiery destruction continues, the world dies in a flame, the very power that once helped shape its history. There is no more. Why did this happen? She has no room for other thoughts aside from that, the question that She can’t understand. As Her wraths blazes all around, she comes to a conclusion so terrible, so damning, that it changes the entirety of her being. It was His fault. He was too weak.

VII

There is nothing. There is only the quiet of the heavens. Only the moon survives Her wrath.

VIII

The moon is twinkling. Its gaze focuses on the Two, lying on the grass, dreaming their sweet dreams, full of splendor and wisdom and rapture. She sleeps on the right side of the world, uneasy, never sure of the side of him she never sees. He sleeps on the left, holding dominion over his land, enthralled by the horses and the oceans and the virgin fields. The Two control it all, They control nothing, They control each other. Their dreams stir the land around them into action; mountains forming, rivers crashing through the hills, depositing into the shoreline that exists only at night, trees sprouting from His back, fire burning from Her hair.

She wakes first, but this time there is no joy in her eyes. She is fitful and full of passion, full of the feeling that sleep is death, yet She yearns for the dreams She shared with nobody at all. Her dress ripples under the wind emanating from His creations, those bastard clouds, full of gray and drowning and surprise. I do not understand him, don’t understand His love, She thinks. He is too weak to do what is needed, too stoic to understand the fire that is needed for the world around. Why does he not understand? Her confusion drives Her into a rage that drives Her to insanity that drives Her to action. Insatiable, She tears at His trees, His loves, His seeds. He awakens and cries, too weak to fight, too aghast to stop Her.

What have you done, my Love? He gasps, losing his breath as She tears the green from the world.

Seeing the pain in your face. Seeing the fire in my eyes. Seeing the death of all around. Her fury is full now, Her beauty breathtaking as Her strength is powerful.

The world dies. It lives on only in his eyes.

he opens those eyes. he does not remember anything. he sees only black. he sees fire. he sees smoke. he sees the dreams that he took with him to the grave.

The world dies. It lives only in his mind.

She rubs his shoulder. he wakes, wanting nothing more than to be in Her heart once more.

The world lives. It is he who dies.

Epilogue

She awakes, screaming in terror, crying in shame. The knife, the blood, the tears, they all float around her mind. She sees his face when she closes her eyes, in peaceful resignation of the fate that has been handed down to him. Her guilt destroys her sanity, leaving only a shell of the woman He once loved. Her rage subsides now, moments after his soul leaves his body. Soon, they will meet again. Soon, they will be together. Soon, she will be dead, and he will be dead, and the fire will live forever in their memories, never to be extinguished by the water of the well, the acid in their veins.

Luis’ Poetry Corner!

I wrote both of these for a class last year, and I found them on my hard drive yesterday. They’re bad, but what the hell, I haven’t posted anything in a month. Comments appreciated, good or bad.

Firefly

the stars on the horizon remind us
there is beauty outside ourselves.
the moon in its splendor forces us
to consider the heavens above.
as the night inches closer to daybreak,
we await morning anxiously,
fearful of what the sun brings,
frightened of what the darkness will take.

as the clouds part to allow Luna to show herself,
we become closer, intertwined as one,
our limbs a maze that no one dares solve.
the fire by our feet flickers, but never quite goes out.
its heat washes over our bodies like a waterfall.
as fog descends upon this resting place,
as dew begins to form on the grass around us,
we lay,
watching the night fight back the day.

We lay,
wanting the shadows to triumph.

At Dawn

The glass sits undisturbed,
Filled to the brim with beer.
Trapped,
Like an auburn soul inside its cage
Yet still as the deepest lake
At dawn.

Gazing into its liquid heart,
Its interior on fire,
Like the deepest hell,
I recall a time when I laid
With my love.
Her hair, tawny, resting
On my stomach, while we embraced,
Ignoring the lake at our feet.

The color of her mane
Was fierce and tempting.
Her locks flowed down my body,
Like a river
Made of the same amber liquid
That is now in front of me.

There’s nothing I won’t do
For one more dawn
With the one who reminds me
Of love.

Harmonix Loses Their Shit – Lady GaGa To Be In Rock Band Tuesday

So it happened: Lady GaGa will make her Rock Band debut on Tuesday – http://bit.ly/btyTO4. Harmonix picked her 3 biggest songs as well as a relative wild card in “Monster”. Needless to say this will be one of the most fun packs ever to sing. I’m curious to see how the rest of the instruments play out though. Rock Band has been losing steam for me personally but between Silversun Pickups last week and now this, I might be willing to pick it back up for a bit.

Now Harmonix…do me a favor and bring out “Alejandro” for download.

Travel Anxiety

Recently, I’ve had such a strong urge to go somewhere. Europe, maybe? Asia? Anywhere. I just want to be standing on a beach in a faraway place, touching the Pacific Ocean. Or the Indian Ocean. Or whatever. I’ve been having strong dreams about getting out of here, and just going to a new place, meet new people, experience new things. My summer in Europe in 2008 was definitely the best month of my life, a life-changing experience that really made me come out of the bubble that was my life. I’ve been lucky to be from such a beautiful country as Venezuela, but with the current political climate there, I can’t visit and indulge in that beauty as much as I would like to.

Anytime I hear stories from my friends who were abroad for a semester, or even just vacation, I get extremely jealous and more than a little bitter. I want that, I want to feel lost and scared in a new country. But I also want to be enthralled by that which I’ve never seen. I’d love to visit Greece. I’d love to visit Australia. I’d love to go to South Africa. Most of all, I’d like to go back to Spain, and relive those 5 days from 2 years ago, when I truly felt like I belonged.