Last week I interrupted much of my daily routine to enjoy my favorite past time..reading. I was reading this book by Chuck Klosterman called Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs. Its funny read things and then gain incredible insight about from where a friend’s personal philosophy or distaste for a particular pop icon orginates. Nothing is truly original. Its just that sometimes, others are able to articulate our perception on a miniscule part of reality. The first chapter of this book is much akin to my undresatnding of how soap operas and movies have warped my understanding of how I should shape my life (avoid all dram, unlike in a soap opera, but hope for the type of overwhelming true love that moves mountains…bleh). So, here is Chuck Klosterman’s articulation of my perception of a miniscule part of reality.
“No woman will ever satisfy me. I know that now, and I would never try to deny it. But this is actually okay, because I will never satisfy a woman, either.
but here’s the thing: I do believe that. It’s the truth now, and it will be in the future. And while I’m not exactly happy about that truth, it doesn’t make me sad, either. I know it’s not my fault.
It’s no one’s fault, really. Or maybe it’s everyone’s fault. It should be everyone’s fault, because it’s everyone’s problem. Well, okay…not everyone . Not boring people, and not the profoundly retarded. But whenever I meet dynamic, nonretarded Americans, I notice that they all seem to share a single unifying characteristic: the inability to experience the kind of mind-blowing, transcendent romantic relationship they perceive to be a normal part of living.”
He goes on to blame this on John Cusack, and the characters that women believe John Cusack to be. I wouldn’t go that far. I’ve only ever seen like two John Cusack movies–one in which he was a rather pathetic dude trying to reconnect with past girlfriends in order to reconnect with his most recent ex-girlfriend (High Fidelity) or a well intentioned cop turned limo driver that is really just a figment in the imagination of a psychopath (Identity). Not exactly romantic. I just thought this was interesting.