If Music Be the Food of Love, Shut Up
Ugh, that strain again! It has now become an ear-worm and you are beating me on the head with it. The appetite got sickened and died ten years ago.
Sorry Shakespeare (and fans of Shakespeare), you had it coming.
Whenever I see anyone “smitten” with the Duke Orsino-ish “love bug”, I can’t but wonder, “Do they realize that they are being utterly stupid? Not stupid in an intellectually lacking way, but stupid in a can’t-they-see-it’s-obsession-not-love way.”
I don’t mind love. Love is the sweetest, highest emotion known to humans. All good things happen out of love. Love is man’s answer to all things evil. Love is God. But where is the love?
Or, to be precise, in the words of Black Eyed Peas, “Where is the love?”
Too many movies have been made, too many books been written, too many songs have been sung, too many poems composed, and too many blog posts & vines littered all over the internet about this “love bug” and yet not enough has been said. A lot has been said, yet, not enough can be said about the real case of mistaken identity – mistaking obsession with love. No, not enough movies, not enough books, not enough poems, … you get the idea.
Being obsessed with another human being is not love. It is stupid. Even if you get that person in the end, you will have extremely unrealistic expectations from the person about how he/she should fulfill you and you will end up in a worse ditch than the ditch – or bottom of the bottle – where you would end up if you don’t get the person in the first place.
I don’t even think it is all that stupid to get obsessed, actually. It is probably natural at a certain age. What is infinitely more stupid is to grandify it, glorify it, praise it, seek it, and paint pretty pictures of it – and sell it. This is what the entertainment industry (read Bollywood & MTV) – and the likes of Shakespeare – do to humans. They tell you that it is the best thing in the world and you should do it. That is stupidity extraordinaire.
My diatribe is not against those who are accidentally obsessed with someone or something. My diatribe is against the entertainment industry which feeds you these earworms, flicks, MTV’s and other jargon and tells you that is a good thing. It is not. As long as you are obsessed, you will not even know what is love.
To know love takes facing yourself. To be obsessed is to go as far from yourself as possible.
To love someone means to love yourself. To be obsessed means to fill the chasm & hatred you feel for your own self with the other.
To love someone means to be willing to open up. To be obsessed is to exhibit only the polished parts of you to the other.
Love is an elixir. Obsession is a poison. Don’t sell it in the wrong packaging.