I'm feeling a little bit melancholy. Usually I avoid writing when I'm like this, or I try to put it in so cryptic a way that no one can quite tell exactly what I'm feeling but I think I'm PMSing for the sixth time in three months (yes my body hates me. It's that AUS junk, I swear) and it's been a little while since I spewed out a true honest downer, so I think I'll just give a good old fashioned emotion dump and get rid of the junk I've got..
I love doing the dishes. It doesn't quite make it up there with eating chocolate or playing music or even the feeling after completing a good run, but it does have a definite calming, soothing affect for me. It is something that I enjoy, something that helps me to be happy and feel in control and serene somehow. Dishes is all about chemistry. Grease is removed by micelles--non-polar globules surrounded by a polar membrane which trap the little molecules and literally use the water to wipe them off. The anti-bacterial chemicals in the soap and the hot temperature of the water work by either destroying the membranes that hold the bad guys together or the proteins they use to spawn their fetid offspring. The movement of the water pushes off the big stuff and provides fresh cleansing motion. It's all very systematic. Very logical and simple and always the same. Plus I feel like I've made a difference when I empty a sink full of dishes and leave it empty--I feel like it really changes up the room and improves it. While it is true that doing dishes isn't a permanent solution and that it will have to be done again, it is also true that doing it once is a simple, straightforward, and uncomplicated job that I understand.
Dating, however, is slow and complicated and completely illogical. There is absolutely no precise reaction cascade I can memorize and implement. There is no science behind the collisions and interactions involved. Honestly, I have no idea why they call it chemistry as it seems to have almost nothing to do with the delicate and exact processes involved in said field. Dating is also not satisfying at the end. In fact, the ending generally sucks, from what I hear, and just like dishes it seems like it never ends ever--like it's something that is always left half done that needs to be redone over and over. Almost like you never get to the bottom of the sink at all, but as soon you get close someone else dumps a bunch more crap to dig through and dirties up the little progress you have made. Gah. I guess I'm just kinda sick of being single. I'm sick of not knowing what it is that I'm doing wrong, or even what exactly it is that I'm doing. I'm sick of trying to figure out what it is that I'm looking for or how to look for it or how to recognize it when I do find it, or how to help it recognize me or if I even want to be recognized. Haha. Reading that last sentence I guess I'm a little confused as to what it is that I'm even trying to say. I'm just tired I think. Weary, if you will. I ran 12 miles Thursday night and towards the end, I felt everything tightening up and wearing out. That's kind of how my emotions feel--just plumb worn out and plain exhausted. Like any more effort would do me in.
I wish emotional deficiencies and loneliness could be washed away with hot water and dish soap. Wouldn't it be nice if there was some kind of double membraned miracle to wash all the crap off my personality and make me into whatever it is that guys are shooting for? Wouldn't it be great if a good or bad match was as easy to identify as a clean or dirty dish? Or if moving water could wash all the crap off everything and make it simple and blemishless again? Sometimes I hate myself for the crap I put people through, and sometimes I hate people for the way they tie simplicity into complicated knots. Sometimes I'm so tired of trying I wonder if it wouldn't be better to just give up or make new plans or stop caring, but I'm not even in good enough emotional shape to strike up enough ingenuity to change my Status quo. The truth is that there is no rushing water to clean off the mess. There is no sponge to help scrub away the pain. There is no emotional dish soap. I guess I will have to work this out the old fashioned way.
