Neurotic thoughts on love.
I promised in my last entry that I would detail some of my idiosyncratic (read: neurotic) thoughts, and I am a woman of my word. Today I am re-reading Romeo and Juliet in order to prepare for the licensure exam that I have to take in August, so I figured now would be an ideal time to discuss my maladjustments when it comes to matters of the heart.
When I first read Romeo and Juliet, I didn't get it. I thought I got it. Young, unrequited love. Star-crossed lovers. Romance. Sigh.
That was in high school. That was back in the days when I was the girl leaned against the boy leaned against the locker.
Years later, the first time I taught high school, I read Romeo and Juliet again. The first thing that I noticed upon the re-reading is that Romeo was in love with someone other than Juliet in Act One. He was hung up on this chick named Rosalin. And we're not talking about a little amorous. The boy was just foaming at the mouth about "fair Rosalin" who won't give him the time of day. He even swears that he's going to die from heartbreak.
You might be wondering why this strikes me as such a big deal. Let me explain my thoughts.
Upon the first reading, I somehow completely missed that Juliet was a rebound. I thought that these were two kids whose innocent, virginal eyes met across the room and just fell head over heels at first sight for the first time. But you have to wonder about Romeo, considering he was only at the party to get over this Rosalyn broad. I mean, did he really ever love Juliet?
Juliet has remained somewhat unmolested in my mind. She was only fourteen, after all. And she probably hadn't been around too many boys. Here comes Romeo with all of these left-over, hand-me-down metaphors about pilgrims and moons and all that jazz that he's probably been saving up for Rosalyn, and now he's just throwing them haphazardly at Juliet because she was young and cute and available and obviously an easy target.
I guess my point is that how you read something is influenced by your own experiences. I was a different person the second time I read Romeo and Juliet. And so Romeo and Juliet were different people, too.
And, in regards to love, I think some sad realization develops as we grow older and realize that we are not the first love of the ones we love and that we may not be their last love. And that makes me much more neurotic when I love, though you might feel just fine about the whole thing. It makes me think one minute, "Oh, pshaw, of course this is true love and he'll love me as much tomorrow as he did last year." And then the next minute I might think, "Oh, hell, he never loved me anyway."
When I first read Romeo and Juliet, I didn't get it. I thought I got it. Young, unrequited love. Star-crossed lovers. Romance. Sigh.
That was in high school. That was back in the days when I was the girl leaned against the boy leaned against the locker.
Years later, the first time I taught high school, I read Romeo and Juliet again. The first thing that I noticed upon the re-reading is that Romeo was in love with someone other than Juliet in Act One. He was hung up on this chick named Rosalin. And we're not talking about a little amorous. The boy was just foaming at the mouth about "fair Rosalin" who won't give him the time of day. He even swears that he's going to die from heartbreak.
You might be wondering why this strikes me as such a big deal. Let me explain my thoughts.
Upon the first reading, I somehow completely missed that Juliet was a rebound. I thought that these were two kids whose innocent, virginal eyes met across the room and just fell head over heels at first sight for the first time. But you have to wonder about Romeo, considering he was only at the party to get over this Rosalyn broad. I mean, did he really ever love Juliet?
Juliet has remained somewhat unmolested in my mind. She was only fourteen, after all. And she probably hadn't been around too many boys. Here comes Romeo with all of these left-over, hand-me-down metaphors about pilgrims and moons and all that jazz that he's probably been saving up for Rosalyn, and now he's just throwing them haphazardly at Juliet because she was young and cute and available and obviously an easy target.
I guess my point is that how you read something is influenced by your own experiences. I was a different person the second time I read Romeo and Juliet. And so Romeo and Juliet were different people, too.
And, in regards to love, I think some sad realization develops as we grow older and realize that we are not the first love of the ones we love and that we may not be their last love. And that makes me much more neurotic when I love, though you might feel just fine about the whole thing. It makes me think one minute, "Oh, pshaw, of course this is true love and he'll love me as much tomorrow as he did last year." And then the next minute I might think, "Oh, hell, he never loved me anyway."
posted by Autumn at 3:16 PM
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