What is Love and Why do We Do it?

So we've all heard our fairy tales about love and finding a prince and some ridiculously sexist stories on how the damsel in distress just sits patiently and waits (and sings constantly) for his prince to come and get her the fuck out of the tower so that they can get married and have many babies and live happily ever after even though they've only known the guy for about 18 seconds. Obviously real life isn't like that. Everyone knows that you have to put yourself out there and go through many heartbreaks and many dates before you finally find "The One". Numerous amounts of songs, books, poetry, and art depict this phenomenon called Love.

Some people, however( I won't mention any names * cough* my mom *cough*), don't believe there is such thing.
Isn't that sad?
I've decided to do a little research on the subject and ask the million dollar question: Is there such thing as love? What is love and why do we do it? Is it just a means to procreate and continue the gene? And what is marriage's part in all of this? Is it valid? (Alright well that was about 30 questions but you get the point)

Let's get all technical. 
The technical definition of love has been debated for many years, as it is a very versatile word, though it is only four letters, it can mean a thousand things.
Psychologists consider Love to be a cognitive phenomenon.I will quote a bit on what I found:
" Psychologist Robert Sternberg formulated a triangular theory of love and argued that love has three different components: intimacy, commitment, and passion. Intimacy is a form in which two people share confidences and various details of their personal lives, and is usually shown in friendships and romantic love affairs. Commitment, on the other hand, is the expectation that the relationship is permanent. The last and most common form of love is sexual attraction and passion. Passionate love is shown in infatuation as well as romantic love. All forms of love are viewed as varying combinations of these three components." 
The biological definition says:
"Biological models of sex tend to view love as a mammalian drive, much like hunger or thirst. Helen Fisher, a leading expert in the topic of love, divides the experience of love into three partly overlapping stages: lust, attraction, and attachment. Lust is the feeling of sexual desire; romantic attraction determines what partners mates find attractive and pursue, conserving time and energy by choosing; and attachment involves sharing a home, parental duties, mutual defense, and in humans involves feelings of safety and security. Three distinct neural circuitries, including neurotransmitters, and also three behavioral patterns, are associated with these three romantic styles"


Therefore, in science, what happens is that the brain releases dopamine, pheromones, norepinephrine, and serotonin whenever a certain person is around, creating happiness and excitement. Speaking in evolutionary terms, the body creates a desire to be around this person more often (putting it prudently) in order to create offspring and obviously keep the species alive. 

So then what is all that poetry and all that art and those songs about?
Love is a universal feeling of trust, commitment, and passion for another. Love can be shown in many different forms, from the love between a mother and her children ( most often referred to the truest love of all), the love of friendship and companionship, the love of oneself,etc. But is true romantic love really OBSESSION? what's the difference? Love is the undeniable, excessive need to be constantly thinking and wanting to be around a certain person. So is obsession. 

The Red Wheelbarrow

---

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

 The poem by William Carlos Williams is very experimental, the form is free; the theme is unclear. Many things may be said about the poem, some being that the wheelbarrow is a representation of the circle of life, some say that it might represent political issues, or even death. I believe that the poem itself is as simplistic and minimalistic as possible for a reason.

First of all, the structure and size of the poem are so unpretentious that it seems almost childish. It lacks punctuation, structure, and grammar, and yet there is an eerie calm about it. The way in which the words are placed on the page seems to work so well that the poem itself seems to sing. Though the words make little sense, the reader feels as though they know exactly what it is about, until they try to analyze it. The minimalism of the poem also defines its own meaning. Since there is little description and the entire poem is constructed from a few words, every small adjective feels like a splash of paint on a white canvas. The word ‘red’ paints a bright picture in the reader’s mind, and especially the word ‘glazed’ becomes a crucial part of the writing. Like the poem states, ‘so much depends upon…’ meaning, that the verse literally depends upon those words. Otherwise, there would be no reason for the words. Also, the straightforwardness of the poem might hint at a new idea: the simplicity of beauty.

Beauty is often seen as the most elaborate, extravagant things in life, and yet we rarely see the beauty in the plainness. In my eyes, Williams makes the details in writing which we overlook stand out. The small, supposedly insignificant setting adds emotion to the poem. Without it, the poem has nothing but the story, robotic and lacking emotion. The colourful words are barely colouful at all, and yet it makes the reader grasp at any word that might hint at a meaning. If the poem were to describe the wheelbarrow as ‘a dull red with some paint chipping off the handlebar, the metal screws rusting in the rain over a pile of once-was-sand that is now dirty mud,’ the reader would skip over the description or very quickly read it to get to the more important parts. W.C.W. emphasizes the image in the reader’s mind and that, in my opinion, is what makes the poem so beautiful.

Unattainable

Untitled

As I stared into my glossy reflection, I realized that I could do anything I wanted.
 I could ruin lives with my own two hands.
I could manipulate,
I could create.
I could formulate,
I could destroy.
I was not a neutral entity. I was not matter that existed soely for the purpose of taking up space, I had power, I had opportunity, I had ability.
I could do whatever I wanted and I would.
I would be who I was.

 

Like a smooth sail on rocky waters

Fake it

Sometimes you just have to suck it up and be happy.
It's a terrible thing to say to a depressed person.
But it works for me.
sometimes all you really need is to shake it all off.
fake it 'till you make it.
and listen to Vampire Weekend.

unattainable wings

Dance Me to the End of Love

Sky Dancing

Temptation

The dogs cry out from somewhere in the west. The blazing sun is setting, bringing a silver breeze along with it. The sharp, dry plants puncture my feet. The dusty sand under me has large cracks in it. Tiny insects flee the cracks when the weight of my body sends vibrations in the ground. My throat fells as though it was rolled in the sand and placed on the sun. I look up as the stars begin to appear. The only hope in my head is the tiny diamonds in the sky. Glistening, there is hope. There is reason to try to stay alive; there is a world out there and I need to live, I need not give up, give into temptation.

Time heals all wounds.

Time heals all wounds, they say.
I disagree.
Some wounds shouldn't , or rather can't be healed with time.
Some wounds are so deep that leaving them would only further infect them, resulting in eventual death. Some wounds need to be tended. Some wounds need love and care to heal.

The Great Perhaps

The Great Perhaps follows me to school.
It grabs the seam of my jeans, it sticks onto them like a parasite and won't let go. It hits me at random times, injuring my head and invading my thoughts. The Great Perhaps attacks at any given moment, threatening me with its salt-watered weapons. It discretely sneaks up on me, launching a violent battle against my weak defenses. Its leaves me weak and helpless, vulnerable for hours. The Great Perhaps rules my life.

Such as it is

Such vain, selfish creatures we are.
Such hatred, such desires.
Such longing for attention.
Such yearn for love.
Such hopes for success.
Such attempts to get it.
Such greed,
Such actions.
Such pain.
Such.

thoughts on thoughts

Thoughts are more deadly than any weapon in the world.
Slowly
    They
         Take
              You
                 Down
                       Into
                           The
                              Abyss
                                    Of
                                       Destruction
                                             And
                                                Pain.

For those nights

Here's to those nights. The nights when its worse. The nights when you feel more alone that ever. For those nights when you see the smiling faces of your peers, the simplicity of life causing joy in them. For those nights when even your head seems to be deserted. For those nights when the light hurts, when noise hurts, when thoughts stab at your soul. When the unknown pinches every inch of your body without rest. When your body, in the exhaustion of the pain just melts into salt water every night. For those nights when all you want is the comfort of one voice. When you know that no amount of people will sum up to equal one particular. Here's to those nights when life is cruel.

Moss on a rolling stone

I believe nowhere is a better place to be
Than not knowing where you're going now
I said education is a better state of mind
But I'd trade all my books to find a home
If I made bets on a better time
I'd lose my money every single dime
I believe moss on a rolling stone
Is better than the rust that's growing on my home

'Cause it eats at me sometimes

The more you struggle
More you fight it
More it clings to you at night
The more you wonder
More you dream
The more you pray it starts to die
And it does
Though it kicks you in the side
Yes it does
Though it takes a little time


I believe home is a place that I will get someday
If someone just will hold me
I believe hope is a thing that I will find some time
If someone just will show me
I believe love is given, going, gone
Come back to kiss me on the forehead
And I believe moss on a rolling stone
Is better than the rust that's growing on my home

'Cause it eats at me sometimes

The more I struggle
More I fight it
More it clings to me at night
The more I wonder
More I dream
The more I pray it starts to die
And it does
Though it kicks me in the side
Yes it does
Though it takes a little time

- Noah Gundersen, Moss on a rolling stone

Carlos Rivera

He raised his famously trademarked brow while looking in my direction. The look that could mean but a thousand different things, left entirely up to imagination  His eyes spared no time on anything but whom he was speaking directly to. His attention was utterly undivided. His dark, dark eyes were so entrancing that once you looked into them you could not look away. However there was something about them, curiously enough, that made you swoon, and yet, I did not know why, but they seemed flat in their presence. Everyone I knew seemed to think otherwise. My friends, my cousins, my aunts, my mother, heck, even my father were hypnotized by his entrance. His tousled black wavy hair that was so cleverly placed in a way that made him seem both professional and intelligent, and yet with a hint of playfulness and boyish Charm. He would bewitch you with a glance of his eye and a raising of his dark brow. His smile lit up a room thirty times more than any super-powered lightbulb ever could. People simply gravitated toward Carlos. He was a giant celestial body that generated good humor unto everyone than came within a five mile radius of him.

I Was, with no doubt, under the spell that he so gallantly cast upon people he met, and was considered to be the most fortunate and blessed girl in town to have the handsome Carlos Rivera as a boyfriend. Girls everywhere swooned and sighed at the sight of him.They thought they fell in love with him after a few sentences of conversation and so thoroughly envied me.

Carlos realized his potential power over people and used it often to his advantage. He asked people favors and allured them to his will. Like a poor innocent animal lured in by its fascinating predator only to find itself trapped and at its mercy. Both men and women were mesmerised by his attraction and did anything he wanted them to.

For some reason, I ended up as his girlfriend. Probably because I was the kind of girl that was "hard to get". I did not go searching for boys, in fact, I never wasted a second glance at one that I liked. I was cool and uninterested and that is what made me all the more interesting. My indifference towards boys made me irresistible to them. Even when I had a crush on someone, I wouldn't show even the slightest signs. I was pretty, in a standard way, with nice features, an agreeable body and good humour - but my attitude was my most alluring component.

Carlos was very much used to having girls at his feet like lost puppies. When I came along with my disregard for him, he soon enough fell at my feet. We were together by default. My personality attracted his and vice versa.

This was not going to end well, I knew it.

Application to join your Posse

Dear Ms. Burnsfield,
       I am applying to join your Posse, and I believe that I am a very good candidate for the position.
Ever since I was 12 I have obsessed over every fraction of my body possible, and hoped to change it in order to resemble more the "model" look. I spend thousands of my parent's money on clothing that I throw out after a couple of months because it "went out of fashion". At the age of 15 I began my obsession with anorexia and bulimia and have recently lost 8 pounds in two months. I have joined 3 pro-ana and pro-mia websites and chat sites. Every article of clothing I have comes from an expensive brand-name store, even though I know that my family is having money troubles. I have been known to follow every trend, and am an avid apostle for those who are considered leaders.
Please contact me at (343 234 2342) because I think that I could join your posse and be an active member in the attacking of any girls outside of the group.

Sincerely,
Felicity Jones

Great article

15 truths about being a professional dancer

Few things but this can describe what really goes on in my head

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L4OfO-mSfEY

Sublime

I sat down on the rock behind me.  Clouds filled the sky, impregnated with rain, black in their presence. Their vastness was so majestic, it made me feel inconsequential. The trees that surrounded me were so full of history, so many years of life they had between them. Every kind of moss and plant covered every inch of the ground and rocks. I looked over the cliff towards the still water, the reflection of the horizon clear as glass, almost like a mirror. An overwhelming feeling of bliss came over me and consumed my ever –present body. I felt so sure of the time, the place. I was so alive in that moment, taking in every sight that surrounded me, every molecule of life, every sound, and every breath that I took was so magnificent, and the flaws in the entirety were even more so. A silent drop of rain tapped my shoulder, light and graceful, but strong enough to make an impact. Another drop, and then another fell, landing on my body and on the world around me. Soon enough, the only sounds I could hear were the splash of the heavy shower and my breathing, broken from the shivers that overtook my body in the cold. I looked up to the sky, not minding at all the water that streamed down my face and obstructed my vision. I felt the metronome of the rain falling on the ground, my breathing a silent melody, playing the beautiful music of life in my ears. I rose this time, and took a few steps toward the cliff. My bare feet wrapped like claws over the edge as I stood, a molecule on the edge of infinity. Nothing I had done before mattered, no words spoken, no steps taken, for in this very moment I had an overwhelming urge to jump. My heart beat with life, my eyelashes, now dripping in the rain, blinked furiously. The timidity of life’s majesty was lacking in my head, and I felt as if I knew my place in this perfect cycle of life.