“His destiny moves us only because it might have been ours – because the oracle laid the same curse upon us before our birth as upon him. It is the fate of all of us, perhaps, to direct our first sexual impulse towards our mother and our first hatred and our first murderous wish against our father. Our dreams convince us that this is so.” ~Sigmund Freud on the Oedipus Complex
I won’t bore anyone with the ins and outs of the Oedipus Complex, but essentially it’s a set subconscious developments that, if not completed successfully, are thought to be a contributor to guilt later in life, neurosis, homosexuality, and many other things. Such as the people that you’re attracted to and tend to want to date.
Which is why I want to date people that remind me of my father. Dark hair, complexion and eyes. Outgoing and cocky personality, witty, humorous, emotionally unavailable, conceited, egotistical jerks. Mostly.
I mean, not every one has all of those traits, but at least two or three.
Which is where the problem lies. I keep dating the same sorts of people. The wrong sorts of people. The logical solution is to stop doing it, right? The logical solution is to find someone who is not a conglomeration of the above characteristics and to date him. Logic flies out the window when you start to talk about things like attraction, which is a very illogical thing.
So, now I’m stuck. This line of thinking can’t continue until I figure out what to do next. I’m going to ponder it some more. Because I’ve once again put myself in the same situation, which is awesome. I’m so intelligent. There is not a shot in hell this is going to work out.
Onward then.
Tonight I had a very insightful conversation with a friend about all sorts of things. I enjoyed it, and it also got me thinking.
Somewhere in the synapses and neurons that wire my brain, electrical impulses are flying around, bouncing back and forth telling my body to do things and my conscious to think and feel things. I breathe because my body knows that if I don’t, I will die. I’m doing stupid, impulsive things. Things that I know I shouldn’t, that aren’t the best idea. But I do them anyways.
Like money. Good lord, I need to stop spending money. I’m usually pretty good about budgeting and things of that sort, but it seems that the less money I have to spend, the more I want to go buy useless stuff. Or I know that I need to conserve gas, but I drive around doing things anyways. I drive just to drive, with no real purpose or intent. I’m driving because I know I shouldn’t be and I guess I just want to screw myself over.
It’s so frustrating. It’s like all the will power I normally possess is gone.
Now, I’m sitting here thinking about people and situations and feelings and relationships, knowing well that what my mind is entertaining is stupid and foolhardy. But I can’t stop it. I mean, I’ve really put myself in a bind now. But I’m not going to interject my feelings into an already complicated situation. It comes down to two failed Oedipus complex completions, a resolve to quit smoking, and misplaced affections.
