Two Apologies: Two Blogs

Tonight my apology is two fold. The first must be that of a failing to write yesterday. When I returned home from various tasks, such as an evening class of Media Writing and safely conducting my father from a point a to a point b, I found that time had not only swiftly brought in its wings tiredness, but also lateness. The two combined, in addition to the nauseating pace at which my computer downloads all of its starting information, made writing a complete unhappiness. There is no sense in writing if it makes you unhappy, and I’m afraid that I failed you all.

Sigh.

The second is an apology to both Tolkien Boy and Annie. Both have repeatedly stated a certain type of encouragement, one that if followed would no doubt improve the over all quality of my life. That encouragement has been ignored on my part, or at very least not followed. Can you honestly say that something that is consuming in its presence is ignored if it is not carried into action? Hundreds of plans made and hundreds of situations played out and rehearsed, none of them actually coming to the light. When all the things that are in darkness are revealed, the time required to list off all the things in my life will take a dramatic increase after I reached about the age of ten when I made for myself a crippling self-awareness. Self awareness is a good thing, but it makes me play out how I would react to each and every situation. Or is that paranoia?

Either way, I plan to make up for both failures in two blogs.

Make up the first: Have any of you heard any good jokes lately? I’ve recently been very interested in finding new jokes that will bring laughter to anyone. I had the chance to act as a host for a skit night of the young single adults around here, and it was a good time, with lots of good and not so good jokes. I personally enjoyed finding all the different jokes that I could use, and saying them was almost as fun. For example, there was a joke that I heard from someone at the skit party:

My eight year old kid has a wonderful primary teacher. One day they were talking about faith, and the teacher was using China as an example. “How many of you have been to China?” she asked. Of course no one raised their hand. “So how do you know it exists?” One bright little kid said “because on the back of my toys it says ‘made in china’”

There were other ones, like the ten signs that it’s time to turn off the computer. One of them was you get up to use the bathroom at three in the morning and you check your e-mail on the way. Or, even better, after finding your e-mail box empty, you check it again, just to see if you got an email while checking.

There were lots of good jokes, and I’ll be sure to post some in a future blog. I’m sorry that that’s so short, but what can you do? That’s my life. Short.

Everyone did comment on how good I look in a Tux, though. . .

The second apology is a little more difficult to explain, and I wish to make an excuse in the way of a question. My question is one that has been perplexing me for some time and being a reflection of the situation is complex and puzzling. I don’t want to give wrong impressions to anyone, and I’m sorry that this is a departure from yellow culture, but I’m tired and I don’t write very yellow when I’m tired. It doesn’t help that I’ve developed the habit of clenching my teeth, either.

But here’s my question: Tolkien Boy and Annie both have told me that if I like someone (I leave it in the unsure if phrase on purpose-the situation is more confusing than I normally say), I should go ahead and tell that person. My question is this: At what point do you leave good sense in telling someone that you like them? One would think that there is an uncrossable line in both gentlemanly manner and logical thinking when someone should definitely not tell someone that they like them, and the opposite is also true, that at moments gentlemanly conduct calls for some declaration of appreciation. Where is the line? The different occurences and conversations leading up to the advice on the part of my brother and friend have obscured the clarity of the decision, and I am confused.

If you’re pretty sure the person has no interest at all in you, do you still tell them? If you think there’s a slight possibility that they like you, do you lead them on and then tell them you like them? If you know they think you’re great, I’m pretty sure you should tell the person that you like them, but if you’re not sure, what’s the best course of action?

What if you think that you make the person feel uncomfortable? What then? I can’t imagine that declaring some undying affection would make the matters any better (Mr. Collins has proved that quite efficiently) though it might bring a swift end to something that might otherwise be painful for a long time.

Though it’s not showing my strengths, and I hate it when this happens, I have no true inclination about what is right. I can tell you that at times my mind is called up to serious reflection and I wonder about what to do. At other times the matter is trivial, the food for thought when I am alone and tired.

If you think it’s confusing to read this blog, you should see the inside of my mind. It’s pink. It’s beautiful in there. Or so I’ve been told.

And, to end this blog with a goodnight, I’d like to quote a famous line:

Oh, what fools these mortals be.