Sunday, October 21, 2007

Nutrition

It has been brought to my attention that practically all of my blogs have something to do with dating or such subjects, which might give the wrong impression that I am obsessed with it. I wish to dispel these thoughts with an affirmation that I am not obsessed, just concerned that it's something that I'm supposedly supposed to be doing, and I have no idea how to go about the thing. It is a great nuisance. And seeing as this is the place where people are most likely to listen to me (seeing as they can do it when they have a free moment and not when I do), I gravitate toward talking about the thing that I need to understand, but few people truly want to discuss in person, that being dating. The the poor blog yellow lives seems like it would be better named yellow laments on a dating theme. That's a long name, though, so I think I'll stay with yellow lives. Who knows, it might just be a stage I'm going through.

That being said, I wondered if you could clear up a few of my nutritional doubts. I've never heard of any class of study released by the DDA or the RNA or the BFD concerning my questions, but I believe that they are worth considering, especially in this world rife with junk food and little relinquishes in good judgement in nutrition. That's right, there's something that must be done.

No one knows what's more healthy. M&M's that have peanuts, or plain M&M's. What's a guy to do? I contest that one could show that because of the protein content of the peanut in the larger and crunchier version of the M&M, the peanut variety is of much better value than that of the plain. These things are important. Imagine if a professional body builder approached a vending machine, to spend countless seconds worrying about whether the plain or the peanut will help his all ready rippling muscles ripple a little more? And what of the poor geek who comes to find himself in front of the coin alter, ready to give forth his tinkling little silver circles, the jangling of those coins being inserted to an insatiable machine an ode to the power of the digestive apparatus? What of him, as soon as his coins are set and the die is cast, what is he to do as he debates the future of those bright yellow packages? How is he to know, what will be his guide in finding the right nutritionally deficit experience? There is a definite need to look into these things.

This month would be the perfect opportunity for the emergence of such a study. I thought, as I wandered over to the forbidden but inviting cauldron of Halloween snacks, how can I know which one of these will add the least to an all ready overspilling body? Which can be taken with the least amount of guilt? Though I dread the answer that a truly scientific study is sure to give because the answer will always be the most detestable to the taste, there is something to be said for knowing exactly what badness is the least bad for you. It's like quantifying and classifying a sin. I think it would be very beneficial. Imagine if you could prove that recess peanut butter cups proved to have one percent less saturated fat than any other comparable candy bar, or candy circle. Suddenly one could participate in one percent more of such a good thing without guilt. Because, after all, it's not as bad as things that other people are eating.

It might also make recovery of an addict a little easier. Just like one addicted to smoking can use nicotine gum or those little patches, an addict to chocolate could use recess peanut butter cups to slowly cut back. This would make the meetings of groups like "Smokers anonymous" or "chocolate lovers anonymous" so much better. "Hi, my name is Major Bubbles, and I'm only eating one cup a day." It would be a wonderful change. And, as the end of the meeting, people could eat just the delicious peanut butter middle, to show their amazing ability to deny chocolate.

I think the world needs this study. We have a right to know. Let us rise up and demand this knowledge. We need to know as a people.

Yellow Love

My dear friends, you need not be alarmed that herein you will find an accounting of one yellow Major falling in love and having all of the natural though sappy comments to make about such thing. In fact, it seems as if I am only looking for a way to explain myself, more for my benefit than for the entertainment of anyone else. I am at the end of it all one who enjoys communication, and the inability to correctly portray what I want said in the power or the raw and powerful spoken word begs me seek escape to the refined and editable (not edible, I know that editable is probably not a real word, but you get the idea.) world of the written. I am glad that we've been given such a medium. Otherwise all my emotions that are truly strong would probably be presented in a bumbling and incoherent manner. As you can tell, this is a more serious blog than others of my writing.

I begin by saying that each type of person seems especially susceptible to different types of love stages. In each of us there is a tendency to cling to something on our way to love, something inside us that begs to be seen, that refuses to be let go, and will cling to our very persona until we satiate the beast, placate it, or overcome it all together. The last is the hardest, when speaking of our innermost tendencies, the philosophies that we believe in on the edge of conscious thought, the type that never comes to light unless we analyze, unless we take time to step away from our emotions (something that I have still not achieved) and look objectively at the world. The problem is, as a yellow, or perhaps as a person, I find this a near impossible feat: an objective look at my emotions. The great poets and writers have accomplished it, detailing their feelings to a point that is uncanny, but I have not that genius. No, my friends, this is just an attempt to describe the raging that any one of us may go through, the type of silent battle that none but ourselves, the Spirit, and perhaps our mothers, truly know about. It's the steps on the way to love.

I know there's different styles to approaching such a thing. There are those who jump forward, without a care of the consequences. There are those who proceed with caution, carefully analyzing if the risk is worth the possible payoff. There are those who plan endlessly, coming up with new and marvelous plans for winning someone, and there are those to whom the mere whim is enough to spring them to action. I suppose there are those. The point I am trying to make is that people approach attraction differently. I cannot begin to describe the wonderful things associated with each type, because I'm not familiar with all of them. In fact, most people would consider me an inappropriate judge of any type of attraction, never having truly kissed anyone, or had a relation that lasted long enough to be of much note to anyone but myself. The fact remains, though, that I am the author of this blog, and if you don't want to read, you don't have to. But I want to write it.

I am, even in my methods of tackling the question of attraction, a yellow personality. I try to feed those I am attracted to with positive feelings, being a happy person around them, in the hope that the person that I am truly attracted to will notice all of my good qualities and make a move. Yellows, or perhaps I mean myself, can be wondrously hopeful, or perhaps foolish, depending on how you look at it. The idea that the other person will be the first to declare that she (in my case) likes you merely because you're a happy person around her is more than just bad policy, it's problematic. In my experience, the only times that has ever happened, it has been more than uncomfortable for me. Considering the labour that declaring my attraction to anyone causes me, though, either way it's going to be uncomfortable. That would seem a cruel irony, to me. That or a crucial conjunction. The conjunction of pain. (I wouldn't say that because it's going to ruin the way I see that moment in Emperor's New Groove, but it's a cool saying.) The point being, a major flaw in my policy is this endless hope that if I put myself in proximity to the person, eventually the idea of attraction will be mutual, and obvious enough to get me past my doubt to actually doing something. It is, perhaps, one of the more silly policies I have, one that for sure needs to be changed. Oh, but it's so hard. . .

I believe that I have proved that my use of affection is not the most desirable, nor the most intelligent. An interesting thing about yellow love, though, is that it's always hopeful. I can stare at stark proof, knowing with all my head that the truth is there is no chance, but my silly heart just won't let it rest. My head is the logical one, my heart the hopeful one. I see the proof, I can analyze what it means, I can tell the far shot any type of relationship might be, and yet my yellow stained heart refuses to relinquish the idea that it's still possible. I remember what the hope of eternal love being forcibly wrenched from my heart felt like. The hope was there, beautiful to behold, and the removal of that hope once made me feel as if I had been bereft of something more than just a little bit of company, something more than just a good friend. I felt as if something had reached inside and put out a little yellow light in my heart. And my friends wondered why I didn't date much for awhile after that.

Yellows (or at least I), have the tendency of falling for someone hard, as Tolkien Boy said to describe one of his friends. I'm afraid that this hopeful streak allows us to place all on the single bet of love. It makes for cruel disillusionment, but the rebound is every time more and more beautiful, each time something graceful, a work of art to behold, and each time the yellow is crushed, it comes back with an infusion brighter and fiercer than before. I can honestly say that because I felt that light snuffed out once, it's brighter today, and on better days I have no ill feelings because of the brief lapse of darkness. I'm human, so I can't say that this is true all days, I wish it were, but on better days it's true. I have a hope, the true redeeming characteristic of a yellow, more bright today than before. And before I start sounding too much like a politician, let me change the subject.

A yellow (in other words me) has this knack for doing whatever the other person wants. I know that the moment I found out the plans of someone I was particularly attracted to, I started making my plans around that (even though she certainly had no idea). She wants to major in what? Well, what can I do to support that? She wants how many kids? Sounds like a good idea to me. She wants to live where? Well, all right then, sounds like a nice place. . . and on and on. You can see that this particular trait could be dangerous. She's from what religion? Well, if you put it that way. . . There's many a good man who fell that way, and I am particularly susceptible. At one point in my life, I'm saddened to remember, the attitude of putting that one girl first, a girl to whom (or from whom) there was little real commitment, nearly ruined my friendship with my most loyal friend of the time. That being said and recognized, I have guarded myself against it, and hope in the future to be more true to faith and not false hope.

I have rambled enough about special feelings, about that which binds men and women. About attraction, and my bumbling manner of approaching it. I have on purpose left out any sort of indication as to whether this is a specific or generalized case. To be concise, and to kill questioning on the part of my concerned friends, this is both generalized and specific. General because he's one up from a major. Bad joke, and I know it. But, rather, general because it is in my estimation a correct if rambling assessment of my manner of dealing with affection, and specific because the actual push to define myself came from confusion about something in particular. I hope that you, whoever might read this (that means you too, mom) might not lose your esteem for me, and will be forgiving if I act strangely. I am, after all, a human, and not the most adept at expressing something so precious.

As a side note, this blog also revealed an alarming habit of spelling tendency as tendancy. Thank goodness for spell check.

Saturday, October 13, 2007

Dating Eccentricities

Yes, I know, friends, that an abnormal amount of my blogs happen to focus around the art of courtship (also known as dating), and that this focus is starting to concern many of you. I'm sorry to say that, like a musician harps upon the same thing over and over, my hope is that by analyzing dating minutely, I will one day be able to do it well. That's the idea, anyway. So, never fear, I am not emotionally disturbed.

I chose the topic of dating today because I made a promise to pelirojo that some day I would explain a rather unique point of view that I have. People understand, and you could even say believe, in polygamy, even though they don't admit it or realise it. WHOA! Slow down, there, Major. I think I'm getting ahead of myself. I am in no way saying that we ought to practice polygamy. I can think of any number of reasons why not, the strain on the man or the women being perhaps the biggest one, but I am saying that many people believe in it, even if it's not practiced.

I discovered this after some very observative observation. Can I say that? I was walking from class to class, in my usual cheerful manner, when I happened upon a sight, very common to behold. That's right, I beheld one guy walking with a girl on either side. The normality of this scene was such that I didn't even pause to think about it. But, as I walked and noted not one, two, or even three, but four incidents of the same image, my mind was caught away to ponder upon the intricacies of modern courtship. Truly, it was an interesting image. The most interesting part about it was that the girls didn't seem to mind, and the guy was definitely not opposed, in any of the situations that I saw. Add to this what I beheld last saturday. I was leaving the racquetball arena of the gym, when lo and behold, one guy was playing with two girls. He was losing. But, that was beside the point. The point was that another male arrived on the scene, and I thought "ah, a chance to even the odds!" What a surprise, then when the newcomer was treated coldly, almost as an intrusion. And not just by the other male, but by the females as well. (Is it insulting to refer to a woman as a female?) It was then that my incubated thought broke free of the shell like prison that held it bound, and I realised that the world in general gives the Mormons an exaggerated amount of grief, seeing as most of them believe in it. Once again, I firmly decree that I am in no way trying to push polygamy. I'm just making an observation about odd courtship routines.

Another thing that leads to great confusion is the shoulder pat. I have decided that the universal way a girl tries to tell a guy that she likes him is a shoulder pat. Honestly, this makes me in particular feel like a dog, or some other type of pet. It's almost as if girls have the innate desire to touch those they like (which is understandable and natural), but the shoulder pat is decidedly insensitive. It doesn't fulfill my needs, that's for sure. Then again, a hug might be something that says a little too much and fulfills too many needs, so maybe it's a good thing if we stay with the shoulder pat. If any of you wonderful readers can come up with a plausible replacement for the shoulder pat, I'd love to hear it. Then maybe I can tell the three girls that like me so my shoulder can stop being bruised.

Really, dating is fun. If you think about all of the eccentricities it puts us through, all with the objective of filling a gap and having a good time, I think it's well worth the effort. So, here's hoping you all go out and get your shoulder patted, and good luck to all those non polygamist practicing polygadating!