I'm not in the right mood to continue the tangent I cut off last entry, so I'll file that under "to do," and move onto what happens to be on my mind, currently.
Love is the single most complicated and ambiguously-defined emotion to exist within the confines of the human conundrum known as consciousness. The Greeks were kind enough to categorise three different forms of love, but I really don't remember any aside from "agape" and "platonic" off the top of my head, so that's a moot point in view of my own ignorance and lack of motivation to look it up. Still, even with what meagre assistance the Greeks provided, we, as a race, struggle constantly with love. Love is a battle between the heart and brain, logic and emotion. It is as easy to refute it as trivial and unimportant as it is to embrace it as the prime directive for life. I have, personally, been on both sides of that fence; at the apex of my cynicism, I thought of love as useless, and at the bottom of my lovesickness, I heralded it as the means to survive. I'd say, after all is said and done, I'm balancing on the fence, itself, and will not throw my hat in the ring of either notion, anymore.
The complaints of those involved in a romantic relationship have a tendency to fall on deaf ears when aimed in my direction; I have no sympathy for petty bouts of loneliness because "he/she" isn't there to hold you, or the regret from starting some insubstantial and dumb argument which resulted in currently receiving the cold shoulder from "him/her." Love without logic and reason is like a wild beast frothing at the mandibles, itching to pounce and rip the nearest warm body to shreds in a gnashing cloud of teeth and claws. Unfortunately, that beast will be rubbing affectionately against the legs of its victim before it decides to engage in a feeding frenzy. In other words, overemotional love has no middle-ground, you are either floating up on cloud nine, or sulking down in gutter ten; happy as a clam or rotting skewered on the pier like an unlucky fish.
At the same time, I have no patience for an embittered cynic lecturing me on the fruitlessness of love and how no good comes from it; you can keep your sardonic witticisms about how "Whoever said ‘it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all' was full of bollocks" to yourself. You can not apply formulae or analytical thinking to the realm of love, for it is too far lost into the oblivious void of the human spirit, a location where no man returns with knowledge, just confusion. To carefully list the advantages and disadvantages of a relationship contains about as much of a point as listing the negative and positive aspects of a belief in God; in the end, it is all subjective and it is all up to the person what to make of love (And God, but that's a different rant). That one fucked-up, traumatic relatonship you had which left you crying into your pillow for weeks doesn't qualify you as an authority on the ways of love–Everybody has been there, or will be, at one point.
No, we do not live in an ideal world where princesses and princes get wed in sparkling attire before diaper-clad cherubim and a singing choir of angels, nor do we dwell in a bleak existence of spiked cathedrals stretching towards the sky where the rejected, deformed man weeps before the Cross, crying vainly towards heaven about the injustice of it all. The world is a healthy mixture of the two extremes. Your special, love-love coupledom or your angst-ridden, devastating past drama with the opposite gender is good for you, but I don't care. (You thought I'd go all the way through an entry without iralics, didn't you?)
There is no good advice to be given in regards to love, outside of nothing more than "Let whatever happens, happen." When it all comes down to the falling action, if it was "meant to be," it will "be," and if it wasn't, pick yourself up off the ground and get over it. Love affects each individual differently, in every case, and it can make or break, harm or heal; you can't tell without allowing the resultant to blossom and grow through all of its natural cycles of development. Cry on my shoulder if your boyfriend just tore your heart out, or laugh and smile over lunch with me about how women are "evil demons" that manipulate men for ulterior purposes, but don't whine to me about how he doesn't understand that "we're perfect for each other!" and don't tell me love is a pointless enterprise and expect me to nod and agree. I swear, I'll scream and run away the next time somebody tells me there is no true love, or that true love is what makes the world go around.
(In case it wasn't obvious enough, almost every instance of love in the previous rant was in reference to "romantic love." I have no real need to speak on the love shared between family members or friends, nor do I feel like speaking on the spiritual love of a higher power.)

Adios.

Currently Playing Song: Nomeansno - Sex Mad
Quote of the Moment: "You must feel funny. You must feel flattered. I heard you were sick. He must be very worried. This is what true love is all about - hunger, get out your Valentines, get out your revolver." - Nomeansno, from "Love Thang," off of Sex Mad.