Paintings

Today, while was I was catching a breath of fresh air and a moments rest from a tedious research paper, my mind couldn't help but wander. I started to wonder about myself and the Potential. I got the whole 'marriage' talk from Dave yesterday while we were driving my car to get an appraisal on the accident damage from Thursday.

Dave knows my position, as of late, on "unity," which isn't what he wants for me... I guess I am just another typical Generation Yer. It seems like it's the 'norm' for people of my same age to not want to be married. Instead, we seek to be "individuals" and to pursue our careers...  We seek these things in hopes that we may become distinct... gosh. 

Well,I can't throw stones. It would be hypocritical of me. But it makes me want to vomit.

Anyway, Dave painted a lovely picture of marriage. It's too bad that I don't see that picture in reality very often. And when I do see it, within years most of those lovely paintings are destroyed or at least, the vibrant colours are faded, and they no longer represent the colours I remember from the first time I glanced at the piece of art. They have suffered some kind of outside abuse, which has left it looking tainted and ugly. This isn't true for every beautiful painting, but it seems like the majority. However, maybe I have fallen into believing the lies that I hear in my head. The truth? ... I am searching.

I started to think, well, if I should meet Potential, would I even recognize it? Most of the "men" that I've seen any potential in at all have all turned out to be... well, how do I say this? Bad boys? Yeah, I guess that is a suitable choice. You hear it said over and over again, "good girls always end up with bad boys." 

On one hand, no one is ever going to be "good enough." This is something that I've learned from having many siblings who have all dated at least one person and each time one of them brings someone home, there's always a list of things quote "wrong" with their temporary choice. But with this mind set, I sometimes find myself coming to the point of, "well, SINCE no one is ever going to be good enough, just do what feels right." Uhhhh... feels, that word makes me squirm. Everyone seems to be so focussed on how they feel. For the longest time I trained myself to feel only certain feelings... I was working on developing a heart of stone in which nothing could penetrate or destroy... how idiotic of me.

BUT......

On the flip side, I started to wonder if a quality Potential entered my life today (or maybe Q.P. already has), would I even be attracted to him, because from my past selections, most likely not. (Side note: I think our society has cultivated a whole generation of "bad boys," and all girls, good or bad, like this because we've been brain washed... and I'm not trying to play the victim here. We have brains, we should use them.) The Q.P. (wherever he is) gets shot down before he even has a chance because most girls (at least me) have already decided that he is going to be boring, uninteresting, shy, and too nice, which really amounts to a genuine, loving, caring person, and that freaks a girl out these days. Nothing can be too serious... Instead, most girls seek the boy who is 'edgy,' rough around the edges, sarcastic... mean, or "manly". I think we have a screw loose... maybe more than one. Or maybe it's just me?

Alright, so I've said that... I guess I'm just wondering where the Q.P. men are? Do they exist? Where are they? Am I blind? Maybe I don't see them because I'm not attracted to them at this point in my life. I'm that girl who is attracted to the guy that, "doesn't add up for you, honey." How do or should I respond to that? Is anyone every going to be "good enough" or do I just say, "so what."? 

I'm also wondering why God would make the opposite sexes so different from each other. Women connect on an emotional level; whereas men connect on a physical level. I guess that is supposed to balance out somehow. I don't get the math.

Ugh... my conclusions: so far, my painting is looking quite bland. I'm getting bored of seeing just my colours over and over again. I see no creativeness or beauty in it. It's just a piece constructed entirely of one artist, me. It's just so self-absorbed. Now that I look at it more closely, it's not even that pretty. There is nothing really unique or inspiring about it either. I see no direction. It's just at a standstill.