the resolution of a collected mind

Marilyn Monroe: "A wise woman kisses but never loves, listens but never believes, and leaves before she is left."

Audrey Hepburn: "Your heart just breaks, that's all. But you can't judge, or point fingers. You just have to be lucky enough to find someone who appreciates you."

It's strange--for the longest time, I've thought about, but could never reconcile, these two seemingly opposing 'schools' of thought. But here's what I think, or at least an oversimplification of what I think: it's easy to be Marilyn in the daytime, that is, to strut around and wear the gaze of men without a second thought, guarded always, calm and cool. But at night, things start looking a little different. We get lonely. We wonder about what it really means to be smart or wise, especially when it comes to things like emotion and love. Suddenly, heartbreak doesn't seem all that scary.

And it's impossible to be wise all the time; we know and expect this. Almost every great (and I use this term loosely) romance centers around some kind of unexpected love: the girl next door doesn't look quite as tomboyish as before, the rebel guy reforms out of nowhere, and sworn enemies become the most attentive lovers. It's all so very cliche, so much that it's actually more of a surprise when the couple at the beginning of the movie lasts till the very end, happily.

Still, Marilyn's quote is just so "girl power," you know? I think most of us can't help but think "damn straight" after reading it (I know I couldn't), and imagine ourselves strong, unfettered, loved always but never having to love. It's an ideal situation, which reminds me of the Bright Eyes song and that one lyric: "Love's an excuse to get hurt and to hurt." But now I'm bordering on emo, which is the opposite of what I want to do. It's just I'd never seen love as an excuse, for anything, at all. But it makes sense too, strangely.

In the end, though, I'm always going to admire Hepburn more. It takes a ridiculous amount of strength to accept the possibility of heartbreak without wondering who or what is responsible. I also know it's something I could never do (Hepburn herself might not even follow her own advice), at least not now, no matter how hard I try to convince myself that it's perfectly fine to fall and get hurt and pick myself back up, and try it all over again. It just takes so much strength and endurance, especially when the whole concept of "falling" for someone means the possibility of no return and leaving empty-handed. It's the kind of thing that makes the most beautiful poetry we know. And perhaps its my exposure to that kind of literature (Neruda, for example) that compels me use the word "love" so liberally, especially since the idea itself is somewhat taboo nowadays, and it's much easier for most people to talk about sex than love. I know this is especially true for me, so I'm actually quite proud of myself for writing about it. I am, and I'm not ashamed. Call me a sap if you will, but I'll keep doing it more irreverently and intensely than before, just you wait.

And so it comes down to this: we can be wise without being strong, and a strong woman isn't necessarily a wise woman. And it's not as if we can choose which we want to be, because we can't. It just happens, I think. Perhaps some of us are more cut out for one than the other, and it's possible to find happiness in either situation. I only bring this up because I feel that I'm standing at a juncture of sorts, that I'm soon going to find out which category I belong in, regardless of the kind of girl I may hope to be. Still, I know...and I mean, really know...that I can be happy with whatever outcome, especially since I've recently begun to realize that being alone isn't so scary after all, and being stuck inside my head isn't necessarily a dangerous situation either. And so I'll end with one final quote from Ms. Monroe, "I restore myself when I'm alone."

*OED restore