Mr. Spock was right

The older I get the more I wish I could be like Mr. Spock. Beside the fact that this is totally dorky (since you now know I was raised on Classic Star Trek) I still stand by it. Rationally, as a human being, I understand that you can't go through life thinking about what is logical and illogical all the time. We are built to feel things. Life is full of feelings, and because it's so difficult to articulate the thrumming of your heart when you get excited or nervous or the butterflies you feel when you like someone life is totally messy.

Growing up, I learned from my parents that some emotions were acceptable and unacceptable. If we were in trouble we shouldn't be sad about it, since our actions led to the outcome. Eventually you learn not to show display when you're hurt or disappointed, or vulnerable. We learn these lessons everyday when we get made fun of in the school yard, when we differentiate from the norm, if we look or act different. I got these lessons at home too. Like I've said before being tough was prized in our house above all else. I don't ever really remember seeing my father cry until he entered middle age and felt that he might have been too hard on us growing up. Pending this midlife crisis I'd been taught, implicitly, that men didn't cry because that made you weak. Dad also taught me to look intimidating, so that no one would ever see past your poker face. I learned to temper this by being charming. Laughing, smiling, slopping sugar as they say in the South. Because this is usually pleasing to the eye, people who see it ask no questions and you stay apart, aloof and in control.

Then without fail, humanity steps in. Something happens and nature pushes a button and all of the sudden you're wanting and needing and swooning and out of control. I am not a relationship expert. I don't get them, outside the realm of friendship. The idea of giving myself to another person terrifies me because then I am no longer in control. In Spanish the term is even more drastic. "Entregandose a alguien" literally surrendering or turning yourself over to another person. For me so far that's just left me at best on my back wondering what the hell just happend and why I bought into whatever bullshit i was fed or at the very worst I'm left trying to find my heart from the dusty fragments blowing in the wind.

I've learned not to believe anyone. They just want to get into your pants. I've become a lot like Humphry Bogart's Rick trying not to ever get hurt again after Elsa. Evasive answers, a smoke screen of questions, a smile, joke or quick laugh just to keep everyone guessing. But I'm tired of walling myself off, posting guards to keep out the intruders. Running, moving, constantly thinking; a mental chess game with no winners. I want to let that down, but the price is too great, the memory of a pulverized heart too deep. For now then, I'm just sitting between two opposite desires, hoping that my logic will hold out, only to stave off what i fear is will be the eventual surrender.