Get past it...

    If you smoke cigarettes, you're going to get cancer.  If you engage in unprotected sex, you could get pregnant or contract some horrible STD.  If you drink too much on the reg you're liver is going to become riddled with scar tissue and eventually fail. Fine.
    Know what else?  If you cook over charcoal, you could get cancer.  If you spend too much time in the sun you could get cancer.  If you get a tattoo you could gets aids or hepatitis.   If you pick your scabs you could get MRSA.  If you lay in the sand without a beach towel under you you could get ringworm.  If you travel outside the US you might get kidnapped and sold as a sex slave.  If eat sushi you could get food poisoning.  If you share a drink with someone you could get herpes.  If you yadda, yadda, yadda you could get spider veins, splinters, whiplash, blindness, tinnitus, lockjaw, rabies, spam.  The list goes on and it's exhausting.
    The solution?  The only one I've found that works anyway, just get past it.  Just handle it.  Do the minimum: be monogamous or use a condom, stop drinking once you feel fuzzy, don't smoke cigarettes if you can help it, wear sunscreen, and don't tell the attractive gentleman at the bar in Paris where you're staying.  Fuck the rest of it.  We're all going to die of something anyway, it'll probably be horrible, so just deal with it when you get there.

On being deathly afraid of spiders...not me

I was sitting at my desk at work, when I saw the most tremendous thing.  Imagine what a gazelle would look like, a partially retarded gazelle, if it was in fact a reggae fan, trying to play hopscotch.  How it would jump and jive and, I don't know, wail.  That is what my co-worker looked like when she spotted a spider descending from the ceiling.  I'm not a fan of spiders personally, never have been.  This week they have punctuated my life in several instances.  I killed one with a hair spray bottle yesterday.  I found one in my hair the night before.  I murdered a large on in my shower not five minutes ago, but being stricken by their very presence is not something that I am accustomed to.  Laura is and that's interesting.  In the presence of spiders she cannot conduct herself like a normal person should.  In front of an audience composed of her work peers she was rendered completely helpless by a small spider.  How is that possible?  When  and how can we all experience that particular kind of humility?  In death?  That's the only way I can imagine it.

LOVE: Actualization, not realization

   To "actualize" something is to make it real; to realize something means it's already real, it's been there all along, but you were to numb or myopic or lame to get it.  I hate it when people say super corny things like, "I didn't realize I loved Blank until now."  Really?  You were to dumb right up until this very moment in time to comprehend a feeling specific to you?
    I think love is actualized, not realized; or at least I think it should be.  I think as rational beings, (which women are nearly three weeks out of every month, depending on alcohol consumption to weight ratio) we weigh our options, we take into account compatibilities, and we are cognizant of patterns.  We review social interactions, art preferences, bathroom habits, etc, and we come to a conclusion.
    For example, Blank gets along really well with my friends (social), we've only ever had one or two disagreements and they were nothing serious (pattern), we like the same movie genres, the same music (compatibility), he brushes his teeth regularly, he has a job, and I like his smile.  Boom: Yes, I will love Blank, cue the fireworks.  We weighed the pros and cons and Blank came out on top; love was actualized, not realized.
    Sometimes analysis is not, or should not be required.  For example, I have a very good friend who recently said to me, "He isn't mean to me all the time."  That's not a red flag, that's a torpedo exploding in your face (cue sexual innuendo).  If, "He's not mean to me all the time" made it into the list of pros of this particular Blank, it's time to wake the fuck up and move on.  Thanks so much for playing.
    Now, on the basis that love is actualized, that it is in fact a choice, that means there can be mistakes.  We can choose to love the wrong people and we can choose not to love people that may have potentially been right.  I don't think there's ever a good reason to love the wrong people and I attribute it mostly to loneliness or fear of loneliness.  Choosing not to love the right people may have good reasoning behind it though.
     For example, I love Blank.  He is kind and funny.  We have a great deal in common, we share many of the same morals, values, and goals for the future; including practical ones, such as how many children we would have and where we'd like to live.  I am nice to Blank, we get along, he finds me physically attractive, sexually satisfying, he enjoys my company, conversation, and he makes an effort to spend a good deal of his free time with me. However, Blank does not love me.  I meet his needs, we're compatible in every way, he says I'm great, but Blank does not love me.  Why?  He doesn't know.  It could be that there's something wrong with me he isn't telling me about.  I make a lot less money than him, maybe he doesn't like that I floss in front of him or that my hair is often frizzy.  It could be a lot of things, but I think it's that he's not ready to be in love.  He's not ready to settle down.  Timing is everything, maybe if I'd come along 10 years down the road, when he was more stable and ready to take the next step in his adult life, he would love me; but that's not how things panned out.  Am I ready to settle down, no, but I would gladly go on any adventure with him at my side.  That's me though.