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PSYCHOcatholic

When did you know....L-O-V-E

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To all the cynics, you can't be complete as a person unless you have loved somebody other than yourself.

As far as unconditional love goes XXX, no feelings can be unconditional. You fall in love with somebody, and if you are lucky you continue to love what that person becomes as you both change and mature. Statistically speaking I understand the odds are against any relationship lasting 'til death...', but when you find one that you want to, you have no choice but to go for it, believe me.

Cynicism is fine and we all have it at points in our lives dependant upon the state of our relationships, but loving someone who loves you in return is better.

Regards

Exactly.

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To all the cynics, you can't be complete as a person unless you have loved somebody other than yourself.

As far as unconditional love goes XXX, no feelings can be unconditional. You fall in love with somebody, and if you are lucky you continue to love what that person becomes as you both change and mature. Statistically speaking I understand the odds are against any relationship lasting 'til death...', but when you find one that you want to, you have no choice but to go for it, believe me.

Cynicism is fine and we all have it at points in our lives dependant upon the state of our relationships, but loving someone who loves you in return is better.

Regards

I agree Diggs. There's nothing wrong with cynicism. Everyone has at least a touch of it, that's human nature. I happen to be fortunate enough to be able to carry very little within my heart. But that's my own choice.

I feel a touch of pity for the cynics who feel it's their duty to try to inject their cynicism into other's lives. I don't know the reasoning behind it, nor do I care to. Whatever the reason, the main goal of a cynic is to put a damper on everyone else's happiness. They see people enjoying themselves, and decide, well, I'm going to put a stop to this.I'll inject some negativity into this happiness and make everyone unhappy, just like me. They try to draw you into a lose/lose situation. Then you're in their world. Misery loves company, I suppose.

Fortunately, I don't buy into it. I'm a very happy person, and I've learned to let the negative people be negative. Just walk away from them.

Up The Irons!, Diggs, old chum.

Anyway, that's more than enough attention this deserves. Back to the thread subject at hand. I believe I let my feelings be known about love. Anyone else? I'd love to hear from some of the moderators on this subject. I double dog dare ya!

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I don't feel sorry for people who are naive enough to believe that love is unconditional. Cynicism? Do you guys mean other comments you've heard from other people in real life? How come we're talking about cynicism all of the sudden? The only cynical statement I recall reading in this topic was about loving not being in love (Dave stated that). Hey jr, "feel a touch a pity" for Dave? Please. That's one of the worst things you can ever feel for someone because, in certain instances, it implies a slight amount of patronizing. Pity is bad karma all around.

I'd consider myself foolhardy to think that people love each other for who they are... Unconditionally! That's a bunch of poppycock. In reality, everyone loves their perception of who the other person is. That's the only way it works. One can never know how another person really is, how they really feel, how they really view and experience things, etc. You'd have to transcend beyond yourself and literally put yourself into their body and mind, obtain their memories and knowledge blah blah blah. As far as unconditional love goes, the closest thing to it is the obedience and faithfulness that comes from a dog :beatnik:

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Congratulations Catherine! :: Yesterday was our 2 and a half year anniversary (14/9/2004) ::

I was woken by 100 red roses and 1 white one.... :googly: I was left speechless......guess I still am! ::

Congrats!. Wow, 100 roses.

"Let's see...I'll put a bunch on this table....some in the bed room.,,,uhh..some at work....and, ummm..maybe I'll just carry around the rest." LOL.

Seriously, though,once they dry up, you can make some kind of smelly bag out of them. I forget exactly how my wife did it, but I know the bathroom smelled like roses for a while :thumbsup:

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Seriously, though,once they dry up, you can make some kind of smelly bag out of them. I forget exactly how my wife did it, but I know the bathroom smelled like roses for a while :thumbsup:

LOL - pot pourri you mean? I think that's just what I'll do! Thank you jr :: I am still beaming! *sigh*

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Looking above I see that this is not a happy topic for everyone. Hey, I can relate; it hasn't always been a bed of roses for me either, but that changed, and I hope it changes for you also. Usually it changes when you resign yourself to the fact that it won't, or when you get to the point when you couldn't care less if it does.

I met my husband Ken on 9/30/2000 while out with my aunt. Did I know he was the one? Hell no; in fact, I didn't even notice him standing there until my aunt pointed him out to me. I was indifferent -- drop dead gorgeous meant nothing to me, and I certainly wasn't going over to talk to him because I wasn't interested. Had his friend Mike (and Steve, who it turns out I knew from childhood) and my aunt Pam not worked together to get us introduced, I would not be the luckiest woman in the world today!

Ken is a man of character, integrity and most importantly strength and patience -- one would have to be to involve himself with a woman with a child going through a nasty divorce, for which proceedings started 18 months before we met.

The impact of my relationship on my child was not a positive one, and my ex was making life miserable for everyone - except Ken, who took everything in stride and worked hard to bond with my son despite my son's anger and confusion -- much of it created through my ex playing games. For the first year I half expected Ken to walk out, and wouldn't have blamed him if he did, but he stuck around; he weathered the storm, and certainly not because he had to.

Nearly 4 years have passed since Ken and I met; 2 years since we were married, and I cannot say enough good things abut him, or put into words how much I love him and what he means to me. For starters, for having put up with all the BS, he should be nominated for sainthood.

Ken is educated, intelligent, successful, honest, faithful, thoughtful, devoted, and extremely good looking -- he is a wonderful husband and step father. He has built a strong relationship with my son, which is very important to me. Everyone who meets him likes him -- he is genuinely a great guy. For a man who was never married and never had kids, he's done amazingly well -- he is a real family man, and he treats my son as he'd likely treat his own.

Until I met Ken I didn't think that great looks came with morality and values, loyalty and commitment -- and maturity! Boy was I ever wrong! I feel like I hit the jackpot!

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Ken sounds like he believes in unconditional love, don't you think?

Despite ?conditions? at the time.

Relationships and marriages are conditional, but many people think of 'condition' in general terms, applying it as a whole -- so let's break it down.

Most people love each other and stand by each other through sickness, financial hardships and other trying times...it is was makes your love and respect for one another stronger, and it makes you stronger individually and as a team. Things can happen in life that create a stressful or painful living 'conditions' - but usually these things are worked out and overcome through mutual love and support. That is what most people mean by the term 'unconditionally'.

There are other kinds of ?conditions? though -- as in stipulations.

Trust, loyalty, being faithful, no verbal, mental or physical abuse...these all things you expect from the one you love. They are in fact stipulations...or 'conditions'. You don't come right out and rattle them off at the beginning of your relationship; you don't have to; these things go without saying -- unspoken and understood.

If one or more of those 'conditions' or 'stipulations' are broken, the relationship deteriorates, and lack of trust, resentment and even hatred can set in, and the relationship may end.

The person left the relationship because:

- Certain conditions applied to maintain the relationship

- Certain conditions were broken

- Certain conditions were created, making it impossible to remain in the relationship

- The person who left could no longer love someone under the current conditions

Did that make sense?

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I'm not just another pretty face , you know.

I'm just messing with you, pinky. I don't know about love at a young age. I believe one may have different feelings that they've never experienced before, and may think it's love, simply because they have no other feeling like that to compare it to.

The first time you look at someone, and notice things you never noticed before, and those things become important, because they make you feel good. Then you start to actually look for those things, and feel a certain amount of gratification, or pleasure from those things.

In your case, being a young girl, you see a guy who suits your fancy, and your insides feel funny, like never before, well, it must be love, right? Always heard about it, so this must be it.

I suppose, to a degree, it is love. I'm no expert, but my feeling is, to be in love for real,to understand it's value, and it's importance, one must have their heart broken first. that doesn't hld true for everyone, of course. Some folks get lucky, fall in love in high school, and are happy their entire life with that person.

In a nutshell, pinky, it's a crapshoot. You'll think you are when you're not, and you'll think you're not, and realize you are. Settle in, young one.

Welcome to Songfacts. I'm jr. Check you ego and your vanity at the door. You get no points for style in here. And until you get 500 posts, you have to take everyone's lunch trays up.

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Hmm. Too young? No. Too much love? Yes.

At four years old (and about six inches tall, at that) one of the few things I remember about my time in my previous house (which, as you guys know, I moved out of two weeks after my fifth birthday) was a friend who stood by me every time I was in trouble, and who, every day I came back from pre-school, always met me and talked to me.

What I don't remember (because my memory doesn't quite stretch back quite as far) is for how long this had been occurring. I would put an estimate on the majority of the two years which I went to pre-school, that the same thing would happen. At 12:15 sharp every afternoon, Annie (or Anakin, depending on my mood on that particular day), an infinitely sweet 14-year-old girl would come out of her school (the one where, at that time, my dad worked), situated about five metres away from my pre-school, and notice me. As the weather grew colder into October-November, these meetings became more frequent, as the time it took for Mother to get from home to pre-school became longer, more drawn out, more painful to deal with, particularly without the aid of someone to help me through.

With Dad working five days a week, and Mother staying at home looking after my sister (who, at one-and-a-half years old, was going to start attending pre-school next September), Anakin became my best friend. Each day at 12:00, I would start waiting. I knew Mother was at home, and I knew the exact location of Annie's room by now, three or four doors to the right as we make a premature entrance into the school. By now we'd both wait for each other at a single place, just outside the school, at a single, almost coreographed, time, 12:03 in the afternoon, with as ever unchanged plans.

Caked in black makeup from head to toe, with her softened eyes, the sweetest smile I've ever had the privilege of knowing, and a tender, alluring, almost hypnotic voice, she in terms of someone to look up to, was entirely different from the "surfer girl" image about which I nowadays generalize disgustingly.

We would spend hours at a time, and, on several occasions, days, together. At that time of my life, I hadn't learnt much in the way of communication, and, as such, every morning, waking up at the same time as I ever did, I would get dressed into whatever clothes I felt like, on whatever parts of the body I felt like putting them, and, the moment madre woke up, I went to talk to her, pointing continuously at a picture of Kina, wishing to intimate that, on that day, I cared only about seeing her, and wondering what we would get up to together.

I'm not fond of the word misfit. Chicks dig scars, misfits blend, rages cease, food gets eaten. All part of His plan, as far as I'm concerned. She, of course, towered over me in years, height and presence. I would recognize her from the crowd of faces immediately. Day after day the same would happen as it would either be me meeting her or her meeting me. As I saw her, my face lit up in expectance. She was always about the easiest person I know to alter from the world's biggest introvert, never anything but concerned about how everything about her should feel so right in itself, similar to how every time we met, the plan came together to meet each other at the same time, at the same place, whether planned or unplanned, to the world's biggest extrovert, always prepared to show me something, to teach me something either which she had learned, had seen, had done to her, and so on.

As for me at that time, the scrawny, awkward pre-schooler wishing to crave acceptance from his own peer-group, satisfying myself inside by attaching myself to someone who wasn't part of my group. The ultimate paradox, perhaps.

It wasn't until deep into a winter afternoon that I could safely put a finger on things. Meeting Kina on the last day of autumn, I blurted to her those two words which now mean so much more to me than if I could ever prepare to understand them back when they would have made more sense. In the chilling autumn breeze, I cried for her. Those two words, "Come home" meant more to me for the last four months than any words before or since.

Sensing my desperate cry almost as if she was expecting it before it happened, she knelt down, reached an arm out to my golden hair, but before she could touch it, I rushed towards her in wordless panic, starting to cry and seeking desperate solace. Holding my arm around her in a show of what I see now as affectionate bribery, my methods, unplanned as they were, succeeded.

The same chain of events happened between this time and Christmas Day, when I, determined as I was to meet up with her again, awoke in the motionless hours of the morning, got driven to see her, gave her a well-thought-out present, and stayed at her house for the rest of the day, one moment eating breakfast, the next watching cartoons curled in her lap, while all the time praying that we would never have to be apart again. Fleeting visits were one thing, but wanting to be there all the time was another.

The same pattern occured until the last day of December, when, as we again began to cry, our stay would be attenuated. Even as the highly emotional four-year-old which I was, Anakin understood every reason for every emotion I was feeling and knew the exact moment to help.

Our visits up until Easter that year were extremely frequent, as I would want to see her every day. I made a point of seeing her all the time when she was feeling poorly, for, as annoying as I could be, she claimed quietly, calmly and extremely sweetly, that it helped if I could be there.

It was five days after Easter that year that we had to part, much against my wishes. Hardly to do with our parting, but more about the circumstances in which we had to buy a new five-bedroomed house instead of the four we were then living in. Almost as if I'd known about it in advance, I penned Kina a short note expressing thanks for the good memories she had given me, the good time she had let me have with her, and the person who she had brought out of this tangled mess forever known as Matt Burgess. Scrawled across the length of a piece of paper, the words "I love you. Matt" were folded up, enveloped, posted to her address, and, as I recently found out, kept in a safe place in her house ever since.

Ever since they have happened, these memories have stayed with me as if they had happened yesterday. And given recent happenings, they're surely worth hanging on to.

More thoughts will probably follow, but for now, that's all.

Love and mercy.

Matt

Do you think that there is a such thing as being "too young" to fall in love? :blah:

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Baby(pinky)

What do you think? We talk all the time about it...on the phone...email...whatever...let everybody know what you think. Cause you said it was love at first sight...we were destined for each other.

i think you were right. I love you baby...i truly do. Im old enough to know that i am.

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I'm by no means implying life was tough. Confusing as heck for a four-year-old unaware of his surroundings, I'll accept, but that just happens to be the way things were.

You are, as ever, astutely accurate, though. That was one of my most cherished memories and, as far as I know, being sorry about life being like that is apologizing for not only things which have happened already, but things that scare the living daylights out of anyone who dares.

As ever.

Matt

:: (Speechless)

Some of us can only imagine such memories. Im sorry life was tough...truly...but...thats a unique memory to have. I hope you cherish it always.

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