I’m writing this from my mum’s cottage in Devon. She lives right in the heart of nowhere-land and although I’m definitely a city person at heart (although Derby hardly feels like a city sometimes) the lack of streetlights here makes for wonderful starry nights. Once I was asleep here in the middle of winter, there were no curtains in the bedroom I was in, I woke up thinking a car had its headlights on outside but when I looked out it was just stars, in their zillions, layer upon layer of them lighting up the whole of the countryside. It was one of the most magnificent things I’ve ever seen. One of those ‘you had to be there’ moments... So I’m not sure why I’m writing about it at all!
Tonight my main topic of thought has been emotion. Aren’t emotions ridiculous? I just watched 127 Hours and (aside from making me want to vomit violently all over the living room) I did cry a little. And as I had a tear dribbling down my face I thought ‘why the heck am I crying?’ I think the uplifting music and vibrant technicolour of the conclusion helped, but I immediately stopped crying when I thought (although the story is true) this is Hollywood. Just Hollywood giving us regular plebs (I don’t refer to you, of course) the hope that our lives may, one day, encompass some of that inspirational spirit that the film portrays. But they won’t will they? Yet still I shed a tear or two. Also, adverts. Some days a sentimental ad can make me openly weep into my tea. Other days I can watch Brief Encounter with a shrug. There was even a dog food advert that made me cry, it consisted only of shots of owners with their dogs and a gentle narrative. Every time I saw that bloody thing I was a wreck for at least six minutes afterwards.
So often there’s no helping how you feel, even if you question it to death. Even if it’s ‘wrong’ in the eyes of some. Whereas on other occasions the very questioning of an emotion can kill it dead.
Love is a funny concept too, one that I won’t even attempt to tackle, firstly because I’m a complete love cynic (despite being a Romantic in many ways) and secondly the greatest philosophers have squabbled over it for yonks and reached no conclusion (they obviously never will but that’s the joy of philosophy) so what chance do I have? Although I shall say this, despite not being 100% sure that there’s one emotion called ‘love’ obviously there’s a whole mixture of things that add up to make us feel deeply inextricably attached to a lover or a friend or a family member. Not only that but our very clever brains even have chemicals specifically involved in forming attachments. Nothing is really subjective, not even emotion, it’s just explosive concoctions of neurotransmitters. So nobody truly thinks with their heart. We’re all just working on the basis of oxytocin and vasopressin and when those chemicals have ceased to rush around your skull, love can just turn to habit. I’m not saying it always does. But I’ve been in plenty of situations when it does. You end up kidding yourself.
When it comes to love my mum is a terror. She thinks I’m going to end up marrying every boyfriend I have. Of course she does, she wants grandkids, and who can blame her? Kids are super. But I was with someone I could have married. I broke up with him just before he proposed (I didn’t know he was going to). And I know I would have lived to regret it. I was kidding myself for 5 and a half years that I should stay with this guy. Mainly because it became habit and I knew that the fallout after a break-up that big would be massive. But why take the easy option? The easy option that inevitably you are going to end up regretting. Marry in haste regret at your leisure. I thank my lucky stars every day that that didn’t happen. However there’s also that ever-present fear that I’ll turn into my name-sake (Eleanor Rigby), and perhaps I should be less picky. But for goodness sake, there’s over 6 billion people on this planet, I’m sure at least one of them will do!
People long for love when they lack it and sadly so many people long for other kinds of love when they already have it. Can we ever really be satisfied? Probably not... the answer? Compromise! Just ignore those irritating imperfections forevermore, reproduce, get divorced and marry someone else. Sorted! As Bo Burnham elegantly puts it ‘Love is a real-life porn, minus all the stuff that makes porn cool’
Told you I was a love cynic. I’ll believe in it when I see it for myself and I’ll write horrible blog posts full of “oh my gosh I just love his silly little face and meh meh meh”. It won’t happen. That’s a promise! If I fall in ‘love’ whilst writing this blog I’ll just pretend it isn’t happening!
I apologise, that was a ramble. I’d probably be a good philosopher/writer if I had the patience to actually sit down and think about the things I write rather than just blabbering out every half-formed thought that pops into my head. But hey, if blogs are for anything it’s for mindless tits like me to have my say in some miniscule way.
I’m going to read my ‘easy read’ book now. Which is also frustrating me. But I can’t leave a book unfinished.
Fare ye well!
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