I seem to have an obsession for my new computer. It’s a lot easier to talk to than most people I know, and it has the tendency of responding exactly the way I expect it to. That being said, I want it known that this is only true for my leg warmer, and not for the cold calculating machine found on the desktop of a little place I like to call “Work.” It likes to refer to itself that way, so I don’t mind using the word to describe it. That machine located in the basement of a three story building is slowly sucking my soul away. I am dreadfully serious about this. My computer at work is sucking my soul away. I’m not sure I can last much longer
Do you think divinity has a sense of humor? I think it does, because if you think about it, how often do ironic things happen to people? For instance, a little while ago I wrote a blog about BHF’s.; those wonderful things that help us through those times when most we feel abandoned. I wrote about those, and now I strangely find myself in a situation where I feel the need to find one, and don’t like the implications of having one. I’m worried that my computer is beginning to be a bhf, because I switch it on with the intention of not having to deal with the hollow sound of my pattering feet in my house. I admit, my feet no longer really patter, and in the carpeted regions of my house the patter is pretty quieted, but the image of the only son living at home being upset by the hollow echo of his own feet is a tragic one.
My point is that I feel a void. Because of missions, rare opportunities of teaching in the far east (as in, Taiwan), new commitments, and similar things, I feel like my close friends are gone. I don’t mean to say that I don’t have friends, because I do, but I’m talking about ones that feel like they can drop by any time that they want to, or that you can call without any reason, when you just want to talk. I have lots of friends that I wish were that way, but at the moment they aren’t. And so it is that I find myself in the situation where I feel a void, but at the same time feel that it wouldn’t be right to try and make a friendship much closer. Why do I feel that way? Because I worry that by so doing I create a bhf friend who I only seek out because I’m hurting. That’s no way to start a friendship.
It’s kind of silly to worry about starting friendships, though. I’m not sure that I believe in dreams being a reflection of anything more than our own subconscious way of dealing things, but this morning I had a dream that I think reflects something of my own psyche. I’ll share this dream, and feel free to psycho analyse it all you want. I have, and I have determined that the majority of my friends are right. I am crazy.
To start off, I should tell you that none of my dreams have real visual clarity, excepting the ones that are really important, or really unimportant. The ambiguous ones are never clear. Is that redundant? For me, dreams are more the emotion associated with any one image, and the emotion has the tendency of creating in my mind a scene that reflects the emotion. In other words, I do not dream, I emote. But, because my highly sophisticated brain is able to turn those emotions into images, I will try to explain the story of this illuminating dream. It was a short one.
I found myself on a horse, a brown one that emoted strength, steadiness, and exhilaration. Along for the ride (on a different horse) was an important friend of mine, a very dear friend that I have no idea who he was, just that he was important. He was a close friend, someone that I wished the good opinion of. Thus far is what my emotions told me. I could tell that riding the horse was vitally important to my friend, and that wherever we were headed, he was impatient to arrive. In that freakily fitting way that dreams have of making the ridiculous become reality, I was in an old western type place, wide open rolling hills, no fences, no sign of civilization, and I’m pretty sure that the time was before the automobile was invented. However, of a sudden, I found myself located next to an old ford truck. It looked squared, like a really old truck does. I don’t know why in that scene where a truck should definitely not have been there was a truck, but there it was.
The truck wasn’t nearly as important as what was inside. Inside was a faceless person, a beautiful woman whom I emoted to be my love, the person who I wanted to spend as much time as possible with. I say she was faceless because there was never the impression made of any particular features. I mean, I knew she had a face (nose, eyes, everything), but they were without definition in my head. I knew she was beautiful, knew that she had blond hair, and that she was who I loved.
This is where my psyche comes into play. For me, there was at that moment of opening the car door, and kissing the girl’s hand, a decision to be made, around which the whole dream pivoted. Do I get in and shut the car door, leaving my friend outside, to go along his path, or do I leave my love’s side to pursue a friend so important to me, whose opinion I value? In that moment of angst, I awoke.
It made me think of many times I’ve stopped at the crossroads of a decision and been torn between two opinions, two people that I saw as being exclusive, either one or the other. I’m afraid that that’s a train of thought that I revert to all too often. I thought about it for a long time, and realized that in the dream I was being foolish. The best thing to have done would have been to take the girl, and put her on the horse, and then sat up on it with her. That’s more romantic than an old ford truck anyway, and we could have gone together in pursuit of my friend.
So often I leave an idea out, just because I think it excludes another, when really I should be looking to see how both ideas can make the world (and my life) something better. If I could do that, maybe I could stop having angst. Or maybe I just like to say angst.
And that entire blog was to only to say that I ought to not worry about strengthening friendships. Aren’t you glad you read it? Don’t you want to be my friend now?
Monday, December 31, 2007
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Christmas Blog
Today is a special day. I can’t imagine a more obvious statement to begin with than Christmas is a special day, but it’s still nice to say. What makes it a special day for you? I’d like to take you on a journey through a Christmas eve and Christmas day at the Major Bubbles institution.
First off, the Christmas Eve, for this Major, begins around six o’clock on the 24th, when dinner begins. Dinner each year can be something different, but it’s always accompanied by family and good times. We talk about what’s happened, about movies, about books, about science, we talk about just anything, really, and enjoy each other’s company. Having finished the savory supper (this year it was clam chowder), the family then departs to either the family room or the living room, depending on the size of the crowd.
After dinner, we have a Christmas program. Each year Dad writes an inspirational program full of singing, reading, and all around music and words of goodness. Definitely good news. This year we had a program full of little kids, seeing as there were many families that came to enjoy the good writing of my father. After the program it’s usually pretty late, so the family settles down to enjoy the late evening, and retire to bed early.
Christmas Eve night has always been a special one. I think for me it dates back to when I was a child, and we awaited to see the things that a saintly soul would leave for us during the night (or perhaps two saintly souls). While I was growing up, there were many things that were done to my house, and all of which required that I share a room with my youngest brother. Those were hallowed years, years that I won’t forget, and especially so with Christmas Eve. We would lie in our bunk beds, giggling to each other in anticipation and happiness. We’d talk about what the next day would bring, what we expected. We’d talk about the snow, about the family, about happiness, and just be little boys, excited for Christmas. Though I can no longer claim the little, I do claim the excitement and happiness each Christmas Eve. This year I was tired from the activities of the day, but still found myself very excited for the day to come.
Christmas morning, no matter how the weather may be, always dawns bright and clear. Since I was a boy we’ve always had the same traditions on Christmas morning. We wake up, gather into my parents room, and say a prayer. Dad then suggests that maybe we ought to eat before we have breakfast. After a rousing rebuke from the children, Dad leads the way upstairs to where the gifts have been lovingly laid out. The children’s eyes closed tight, it’s my father, with the youngest son’s hands on his shoulder, who leads the way up, with the youngest holding onto him, then the next, then the next, in a train, all following the other, all with eyes closed tight. Then there is glee as presents are opened, and all enjoy themselves. Mom acts as Mrs. Claus every year, handing each present under the tree to its recipient until there are none left. She always does it just right, so we end up with all the same amount of gifts.
After presents, there is always the ham breakfast, with cranberry juice and seven up. It’s traditional!
Those are only a few things that I associate each year with Christmas. I love the traditions, the happiness, the joy that’s felt each year around this time. I hope you all had a marvelous Christmas, and that the New Year will be wonderful.
And to all, a good night.
First off, the Christmas Eve, for this Major, begins around six o’clock on the 24th, when dinner begins. Dinner each year can be something different, but it’s always accompanied by family and good times. We talk about what’s happened, about movies, about books, about science, we talk about just anything, really, and enjoy each other’s company. Having finished the savory supper (this year it was clam chowder), the family then departs to either the family room or the living room, depending on the size of the crowd.
After dinner, we have a Christmas program. Each year Dad writes an inspirational program full of singing, reading, and all around music and words of goodness. Definitely good news. This year we had a program full of little kids, seeing as there were many families that came to enjoy the good writing of my father. After the program it’s usually pretty late, so the family settles down to enjoy the late evening, and retire to bed early.
Christmas Eve night has always been a special one. I think for me it dates back to when I was a child, and we awaited to see the things that a saintly soul would leave for us during the night (or perhaps two saintly souls). While I was growing up, there were many things that were done to my house, and all of which required that I share a room with my youngest brother. Those were hallowed years, years that I won’t forget, and especially so with Christmas Eve. We would lie in our bunk beds, giggling to each other in anticipation and happiness. We’d talk about what the next day would bring, what we expected. We’d talk about the snow, about the family, about happiness, and just be little boys, excited for Christmas. Though I can no longer claim the little, I do claim the excitement and happiness each Christmas Eve. This year I was tired from the activities of the day, but still found myself very excited for the day to come.
Christmas morning, no matter how the weather may be, always dawns bright and clear. Since I was a boy we’ve always had the same traditions on Christmas morning. We wake up, gather into my parents room, and say a prayer. Dad then suggests that maybe we ought to eat before we have breakfast. After a rousing rebuke from the children, Dad leads the way upstairs to where the gifts have been lovingly laid out. The children’s eyes closed tight, it’s my father, with the youngest son’s hands on his shoulder, who leads the way up, with the youngest holding onto him, then the next, then the next, in a train, all following the other, all with eyes closed tight. Then there is glee as presents are opened, and all enjoy themselves. Mom acts as Mrs. Claus every year, handing each present under the tree to its recipient until there are none left. She always does it just right, so we end up with all the same amount of gifts.
After presents, there is always the ham breakfast, with cranberry juice and seven up. It’s traditional!
Those are only a few things that I associate each year with Christmas. I love the traditions, the happiness, the joy that’s felt each year around this time. I hope you all had a marvelous Christmas, and that the New Year will be wonderful.
And to all, a good night.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Black Hole Fillers
I've been thinking a lot lately about voids. I was watching a television show, something that is abnormal for me, a show called "Life," and in this show the character is asked how he extracted information from a person over the phone, and he said: "I asked, and then I waited. People like to fill a void." I've all ready talked about the void of noise that we like to fill. It's interesting to relate, but I believe that people like to fill more than just sound voids. I think that people like to fill relationship voids as well.
A relationship void is a tricky subject. In jest I referred to it as the "gay guy friend syndrome,"
which elicited an exclamatory rebuttal from Pelirojo, upon whom I experimented the title. In the interest of public approval and understanding, I will simply refer to this particular point as the "Black Hole Filler."
I call this type of friend, or this type of relationship to which I refer a "Black Hole Filler," or BHF for short, because there are times in every one's life when we feel as if our emotions are really a gaping black hole. There is little if anything of worth found in the there and the wounds or the confusion that we are suffering is such that there is little light that can penetrate the darkness. At the deepest part of the night we may even look up and wish that a certain experience had never been ours, or that we'd never known someone, or that we could be taken away just to show everyone how sorry they would be if we left. These feelings are the worst kind of void, the type that allows us to forget faith, forget friendships, and lose love, if we let it. There are ways out of even this blackest of nights, and I have come to trust in God as a loving friend who really is within reach. It's finding where to reach that is the trick.
This really isn't only an offering of light to those in darkness. It's also a warning. A warning because often we as humans look for something to fill that void in many things. We may look for them in religion, in music, in movies, in entertainment in general, in drink, in lewd companionship, or in a plethora of other healthy or unhealthy things. Most of those don't really fill anything, rather they procrastinate the pain, allowing it to grow. One of the fillers, those BHFs that are common among the honorable are friends. Either friends that are all ready around, or those that present themselves for the occasion.
I believe that such friendships can be good things. It allows those in the Black Hole a ray of sunshine, something tangible, something easier to hold onto than faith. It also provides the filler friend with a chance to understand pain and trial better, which gives an opportunity to grow compassion. I do not mean it is better to rely on friends than on faith, just momentarily easier and sometimes the way that faith saves us. Relying on friends has its complications, which I wish to discuss.
First off, the intentions of both parties are rarely discussed and understood before entering in on a BHF relationship. They spring out of necessity. A person is in pain, and someone else wants to help. During the pain the person is invaluable, helping with a cheering word, a needed smile, a fond embrace or even touch on the shoulder. The BHF is there, to help move through the blackness, to point out the light so hard to see for the person in pain. It is possible that outside of this help, one party feels little or no attachment. It is easy to happen, and often happens on the part of the person in pain. Once the night has passed, the light house is forgotten. This forgetfulness is by now means limited to the pained, though, and often passes to those who are acting as the fillers. If neither party has any attachment, then the risk of hurt is minimal. We must be cautious, however, that we do not treat flippantly any connection or attachment that has been made. It's possible that both people involved see the goodness in one another, and thereby fall madly in love with one another. As long as that love is set up on equality, that's a good thing. Hooray for happiness.
I've heard a lot about co-dependant, which I understand means that a person needs someone to need them. I suppose BHF relationship is a branch off of that. However, let us suppose, for the blog's sake, that a girl feels, for whatever reason, a void in her life. Here comes an average Joe (seriously, that's his name), who happens to find (we shall call her) Rachel attractive. Rachel seeks Joe's company, because he is a happy friend wishing to help an attractive friend out of a painful situation. Rachel improves. Rachel is thankful to Joe, but otherwise forgets him. Joe is hurt. Now Joe has a void. It becomes almost a process of pain. It's not something that always happens, and it most certainly is not only something that happens to the guy, but often the girl as well. I'm not sure how to avoid this. Maybe phone calls, or appreciation in more than distant words of praise would help, but on that front I am an amateur.
To sum up this entire blog, when someone is helping you out of something, or perhaps there is a good friend who is there for you when you have hard times, don't hurt that friend by forgetting her or him. I'm learning that those kind of friends are hard to come by, anyway, and even though we may walk as though blind, if we try to be aware, there is much we can do to make sure that if we ever need a BHF, we won't merely displace our Black Hole into someone else, but rather we will fill it with love. Love's the only thing faster than light anyway, so it can move in and out of Black Holes like nothing else.
Relationships in and of themselves are all to complex to lay out on a testing plate to explain it completely. Tolkien Boy told me that there is no previous experience for any relationship. Each one is different, and it's the truth. I only wished to put on aspect down here.
Oh, and just for the record, and so as to not provoke voids in anyone, I wrote this because of observations in others, and I don't currently suffer from or even feel that I am filling a Black Hole. I might be unconsciously helping some, but mostly I just continue to be myself, Major Bubbles, a Yellow.
A relationship void is a tricky subject. In jest I referred to it as the "gay guy friend syndrome,"
which elicited an exclamatory rebuttal from Pelirojo, upon whom I experimented the title. In the interest of public approval and understanding, I will simply refer to this particular point as the "Black Hole Filler."
I call this type of friend, or this type of relationship to which I refer a "Black Hole Filler," or BHF for short, because there are times in every one's life when we feel as if our emotions are really a gaping black hole. There is little if anything of worth found in the there and the wounds or the confusion that we are suffering is such that there is little light that can penetrate the darkness. At the deepest part of the night we may even look up and wish that a certain experience had never been ours, or that we'd never known someone, or that we could be taken away just to show everyone how sorry they would be if we left. These feelings are the worst kind of void, the type that allows us to forget faith, forget friendships, and lose love, if we let it. There are ways out of even this blackest of nights, and I have come to trust in God as a loving friend who really is within reach. It's finding where to reach that is the trick.
This really isn't only an offering of light to those in darkness. It's also a warning. A warning because often we as humans look for something to fill that void in many things. We may look for them in religion, in music, in movies, in entertainment in general, in drink, in lewd companionship, or in a plethora of other healthy or unhealthy things. Most of those don't really fill anything, rather they procrastinate the pain, allowing it to grow. One of the fillers, those BHFs that are common among the honorable are friends. Either friends that are all ready around, or those that present themselves for the occasion.
I believe that such friendships can be good things. It allows those in the Black Hole a ray of sunshine, something tangible, something easier to hold onto than faith. It also provides the filler friend with a chance to understand pain and trial better, which gives an opportunity to grow compassion. I do not mean it is better to rely on friends than on faith, just momentarily easier and sometimes the way that faith saves us. Relying on friends has its complications, which I wish to discuss.
First off, the intentions of both parties are rarely discussed and understood before entering in on a BHF relationship. They spring out of necessity. A person is in pain, and someone else wants to help. During the pain the person is invaluable, helping with a cheering word, a needed smile, a fond embrace or even touch on the shoulder. The BHF is there, to help move through the blackness, to point out the light so hard to see for the person in pain. It is possible that outside of this help, one party feels little or no attachment. It is easy to happen, and often happens on the part of the person in pain. Once the night has passed, the light house is forgotten. This forgetfulness is by now means limited to the pained, though, and often passes to those who are acting as the fillers. If neither party has any attachment, then the risk of hurt is minimal. We must be cautious, however, that we do not treat flippantly any connection or attachment that has been made. It's possible that both people involved see the goodness in one another, and thereby fall madly in love with one another. As long as that love is set up on equality, that's a good thing. Hooray for happiness.
I've heard a lot about co-dependant, which I understand means that a person needs someone to need them. I suppose BHF relationship is a branch off of that. However, let us suppose, for the blog's sake, that a girl feels, for whatever reason, a void in her life. Here comes an average Joe (seriously, that's his name), who happens to find (we shall call her) Rachel attractive. Rachel seeks Joe's company, because he is a happy friend wishing to help an attractive friend out of a painful situation. Rachel improves. Rachel is thankful to Joe, but otherwise forgets him. Joe is hurt. Now Joe has a void. It becomes almost a process of pain. It's not something that always happens, and it most certainly is not only something that happens to the guy, but often the girl as well. I'm not sure how to avoid this. Maybe phone calls, or appreciation in more than distant words of praise would help, but on that front I am an amateur.
To sum up this entire blog, when someone is helping you out of something, or perhaps there is a good friend who is there for you when you have hard times, don't hurt that friend by forgetting her or him. I'm learning that those kind of friends are hard to come by, anyway, and even though we may walk as though blind, if we try to be aware, there is much we can do to make sure that if we ever need a BHF, we won't merely displace our Black Hole into someone else, but rather we will fill it with love. Love's the only thing faster than light anyway, so it can move in and out of Black Holes like nothing else.
Relationships in and of themselves are all to complex to lay out on a testing plate to explain it completely. Tolkien Boy told me that there is no previous experience for any relationship. Each one is different, and it's the truth. I only wished to put on aspect down here.
Oh, and just for the record, and so as to not provoke voids in anyone, I wrote this because of observations in others, and I don't currently suffer from or even feel that I am filling a Black Hole. I might be unconsciously helping some, but mostly I just continue to be myself, Major Bubbles, a Yellow.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Christmas Power
I am a fan of Christmas. Over all other times and seasons, it is the Christmas season that most captivates me. Having never graduated from the kindergarten of maturity, the entire season is enchanting to me. As the snow falls on this happy time, it glints in the light of street lights on the corners, catching each snowflake in a moment of delight, a small glint of stardust falling on a world that sometimes ought to forget what is commonly thought to be reality.
There is so much that could be said about the goodness of Christmas. There are the candies, the songs, the good cheer, the overall excitement of children big or small, the “new world” look of an earth covered in snow, the presents, the family, the everything. But, if one pauses to consider, how do all these things come about? Why is it that in this specific time, a short month between Thanksgiving and the 25 of December the world (or at least, the world that surrounds me) sets aside many of its realities to embrace its fantasies? Why is that we can be so loving during this time? Why make any exception to the twelve month agenda? What’s different?
I guess that for some people it’s not, really. Those people are wonderful. Let me tell you why I think that the Christmas time is different.
It’s hard to get people to agree too much of anything. I personally am a fan of fantasy novels, once again because I probably never understood the difference between reality and fancy. Others enjoy books that are based in reality, things that could’ve happened, where what is imagined is little more than a name and a life, instead of an entire world, an entire universe. Obviously I say it that way because I like fantasy. The point, is, that making the human race agree is a pretty enormous task.
In religion this point is even more sharply distinct. There are so many beliefs, in many gods, in no gods, in one God, in one god of three, of three gods in one. It’s confusing just to consider the nature of the belief in God, and the role that Christ plays in each of these beliefs is just as diverse. There are many who believe him to be a great teacher, some who believe him nothing more than a great leader, an interesting historical figure, a prophet, the incarnation of God, or the Son of God, born to be our Savior, our King, and our Friend. In this time of Christmas, many are led to sing to Him, to talk of Him, and just to think on Him, and what He means to them. I think Christmas is so special, because behind the majority of beliefs of Christ there is this one: That someone named Jesus Christ indeed was born. The effect that this had might be disputed, the importance attached to it changes with different people, but the fact remains that many, if not most people agree that a good thing happened when Jesus was born.
I think that’s where the magic of Christmas stems from. So many people agree on the point. There was a Teacher, a Leader, a Son born once upon a time some two thousand years ago. That concordance of belief molds us into one thing: a people united. If Christmas, with that sole belief that something good happened when one being was born into this world, can change the very atmosphere felt by all into one full of understanding and compassion, perhaps we should strive to understand, to believe a little bit more. Maybe by understanding each other we’ll be able to believe a little more. Maybe, just maybe, that would unify us, and we could have Christmas time all the year long.
There is so much that could be said about the goodness of Christmas. There are the candies, the songs, the good cheer, the overall excitement of children big or small, the “new world” look of an earth covered in snow, the presents, the family, the everything. But, if one pauses to consider, how do all these things come about? Why is it that in this specific time, a short month between Thanksgiving and the 25 of December the world (or at least, the world that surrounds me) sets aside many of its realities to embrace its fantasies? Why is that we can be so loving during this time? Why make any exception to the twelve month agenda? What’s different?
I guess that for some people it’s not, really. Those people are wonderful. Let me tell you why I think that the Christmas time is different.
It’s hard to get people to agree too much of anything. I personally am a fan of fantasy novels, once again because I probably never understood the difference between reality and fancy. Others enjoy books that are based in reality, things that could’ve happened, where what is imagined is little more than a name and a life, instead of an entire world, an entire universe. Obviously I say it that way because I like fantasy. The point, is, that making the human race agree is a pretty enormous task.
In religion this point is even more sharply distinct. There are so many beliefs, in many gods, in no gods, in one God, in one god of three, of three gods in one. It’s confusing just to consider the nature of the belief in God, and the role that Christ plays in each of these beliefs is just as diverse. There are many who believe him to be a great teacher, some who believe him nothing more than a great leader, an interesting historical figure, a prophet, the incarnation of God, or the Son of God, born to be our Savior, our King, and our Friend. In this time of Christmas, many are led to sing to Him, to talk of Him, and just to think on Him, and what He means to them. I think Christmas is so special, because behind the majority of beliefs of Christ there is this one: That someone named Jesus Christ indeed was born. The effect that this had might be disputed, the importance attached to it changes with different people, but the fact remains that many, if not most people agree that a good thing happened when Jesus was born.
I think that’s where the magic of Christmas stems from. So many people agree on the point. There was a Teacher, a Leader, a Son born once upon a time some two thousand years ago. That concordance of belief molds us into one thing: a people united. If Christmas, with that sole belief that something good happened when one being was born into this world, can change the very atmosphere felt by all into one full of understanding and compassion, perhaps we should strive to understand, to believe a little bit more. Maybe by understanding each other we’ll be able to believe a little more. Maybe, just maybe, that would unify us, and we could have Christmas time all the year long.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Amor Vacuii
This last week I took a test, a test in my least favorite subject of all. Art history. It was a source of amazement to me how the study of something so beautiful could make it, to me, so downright boring as to make my weary body decide that it's needs, mainly that of sleep, were of much more importance than my brain's needs to fully process the information that would soon appear on tests to be. There was a constant struggle in that class to remain awake, and I'm afraid to say that often the body won out that debate. I became cleverer as time went on, though, and soon found interesting ways of keeping myself alert, if not particularly attentive, during that torturous hour and forty five minutes. I resorted to poem writing, bodily experiments involving fingers and dancing, and the most expensive of all binge snacking. All of these efforts were valiantly made, though I have to admit for the most part they were ineffective at helping me achieve higher than a c+ on my exams.
That being said, I was able to retain consciousness long enough during one lecture to learn something about those in the early medieval times. Not only were they medi-evil, (it's like being mostly dead), but they had an absolute abhorrence to empty spaces. They would decorate everything and anything as much as they could, not leaving a single spot without some embellishment. Their walls become more and more cluttered, they're architecture absolutely befuddled with embellishment, and their paintings positively filled with frills and fluffs. All of this only confused my poor weary mind, and led to the welcome oblivion of unconsciousness.
But that "Horror Vacuii" as pronounced by the professor has stuck with me. I don't think we're really all that much different now. We find different mediums through which we express our absolute terror of all empty spaces, of all vacuums. We cannot stand it. I will show you why.
I love my car. There are few worldly things that I enjoy as much as the rumbling of my cars engine as it chokes into life each morning and several times after that, or the way it rattles my hand as I wait at a traffic light. (I'm told that the rattling is a sign of something terribly wrong, but I get a sort of sick satisfaction out of it) I love my car, except it's radio. Some mad man, terribly afraid that someone in the car would one day have to live in, dear me, silence as he drove down the road made sure that the radio will never turn off. Quite literally, the radio will never turn off, only go so quiet that you cannot hear it. I understand that my car in this aspect is freakish indeed, but I think it reflects a popular attitude. That silence, a vacuum of noise, is not to be tolerated. We must never have silence, and shun it at all costs. Can you remember the last time you took a car ride and listened to just the sounds of the car? It might just deafen us if we listened. Or, while at home, how often is there music in the background, and how often not? At my work, it's amazing if we don't have two sources of sound constantly blaring. True, one of them happens to be myself, but the point is that some sort of electronic equipment is constantly going, without a break.
This extends as well to when we walk, sit, anything. If there is no source of noise, we find one. Friends who don't talk to each other talk on the cell phone, or put one noise creator into their ears, so as to not have to suffer through the silence. I-pods, cells phones, ancient Walkman, radios, cameras that record sound bytes, all seeking to fill the vacuum.
I discover more about myself in that vacuum than at any other time. Can you breathe in silence? When all the noise is hushed, and the serenity of silence surrounds you, are you comfortable? Sometimes I am not. Those are the times I find a good book to read, I write on the Internet, or worse still, I make noise so I don't have to deal with the void.
That being said, I was able to retain consciousness long enough during one lecture to learn something about those in the early medieval times. Not only were they medi-evil, (it's like being mostly dead), but they had an absolute abhorrence to empty spaces. They would decorate everything and anything as much as they could, not leaving a single spot without some embellishment. Their walls become more and more cluttered, they're architecture absolutely befuddled with embellishment, and their paintings positively filled with frills and fluffs. All of this only confused my poor weary mind, and led to the welcome oblivion of unconsciousness.
But that "Horror Vacuii" as pronounced by the professor has stuck with me. I don't think we're really all that much different now. We find different mediums through which we express our absolute terror of all empty spaces, of all vacuums. We cannot stand it. I will show you why.
I love my car. There are few worldly things that I enjoy as much as the rumbling of my cars engine as it chokes into life each morning and several times after that, or the way it rattles my hand as I wait at a traffic light. (I'm told that the rattling is a sign of something terribly wrong, but I get a sort of sick satisfaction out of it) I love my car, except it's radio. Some mad man, terribly afraid that someone in the car would one day have to live in, dear me, silence as he drove down the road made sure that the radio will never turn off. Quite literally, the radio will never turn off, only go so quiet that you cannot hear it. I understand that my car in this aspect is freakish indeed, but I think it reflects a popular attitude. That silence, a vacuum of noise, is not to be tolerated. We must never have silence, and shun it at all costs. Can you remember the last time you took a car ride and listened to just the sounds of the car? It might just deafen us if we listened. Or, while at home, how often is there music in the background, and how often not? At my work, it's amazing if we don't have two sources of sound constantly blaring. True, one of them happens to be myself, but the point is that some sort of electronic equipment is constantly going, without a break.
This extends as well to when we walk, sit, anything. If there is no source of noise, we find one. Friends who don't talk to each other talk on the cell phone, or put one noise creator into their ears, so as to not have to suffer through the silence. I-pods, cells phones, ancient Walkman, radios, cameras that record sound bytes, all seeking to fill the vacuum.
I discover more about myself in that vacuum than at any other time. Can you breathe in silence? When all the noise is hushed, and the serenity of silence surrounds you, are you comfortable? Sometimes I am not. Those are the times I find a good book to read, I write on the Internet, or worse still, I make noise so I don't have to deal with the void.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
A Question Answered
I admit it; I am selfishly satisfied at the amount of replies which I received. I think my favorite reply to my question of why girls date jerks would have to be the reply sent by my friend WM-Star, who simply put it "jerks are hot." While I personally do not agree with this statement, I think it leads quite nicely into my personal explanation of why guys date brainless girls. I here thank Devastator for adding a more complete complexity to the answer, and I also thank every single last one of you for the answers you provided. Maybe I'll ask a compelling question on every blog, just so I can get so many comments.
I heard once that blue and green are the most aesthetically pleasing colors to the human eye. I heard various opinions as to why, such as the prevalence of those two colors, but my personal opinion is because they're both just plain beautiful. God knew that we as humans would like those colors, so he made the sky blue, the sea a blue-green, and the mountainside and rolling hills a beautiful and luscious green. At least, that’s true if you live in the east. It was made that way so we could enjoy it. I'm afraid that men indeed were created so as to be attracted to beautiful women, and especially women who pay minute detail to their bodies and the portrayal of them. It's a truth that at one point in time all men have to come to grips with. They just like beauty. So, it is that we come to the male version of what WM-Star commented, and even Devastator commented. "Girls who aren't so academically inclined focus more on appearance, making them more attractive.” is what was said specifically and "jerks are hot" could then translate into "less academically inclined girls are hot." I for one do not agree, but the point has been made by others, and so it must appear here. The hormonal imbalance so common to men is a driving force that causes even normally coherent males to the dating of silly members of the opposite sex. This is only one point, and in my mind is all too often left as the only point as to why men date silly people. Because, after all, in the movie Emma the character of Mr. Knightly is quoted as having said "Men of character, no matter what you may say, do not want silly wives!" It's a little bit of an extrapolation to take dating to matrimony, but it's basically the same principle. So, what character is it that drives men to date silly women? Is it solely because of hormones, a lack of sense in the face of beauty? You might say that such is the case, but I plan to show that it is not solely hormones that drive men to silliness, but something much more deep.
Men are males. Yes, I know this is an obvious statement, but look for a moment at what it implies. Males have been known to always try and show off how very manly they are. Bucks and many other animals head butt each other repeatedly to see who bows out first. Men get into boxing matches and play sports. Most male animals do not have one partner for life, and lamentably the idea of having lots of women is a sign of masculinity (deplorable, but the truth in the world. Not the real truth, but it is the image of the world). Men go to great lengths to show how much of a male they really are, even doing such things as eating sardines out of a can. Pretty gross, but they do it. Why? Because men are males, and males have insecurities. Big ones. The type that makes them act like suicidal maniacs, to show themselves as much as to others that they are not afraid, and that they will not be beaten. Insecurity is a hard thing to overcome, and only those "men of character" can truly overcome it. Insecurity, then, is the reason I name as why men date silly women.
This insecurity comes in different stages, or shows itself in different ways. One of the biggest is the "what if" insecurity. What if it works out, and becomes something serious? Perhaps deep down inside a man rings out the "what if this gets serious?" question, a frightening prospect at best. The average college kid has no means of supporting two people, is not emotionally prepared for such an adventure, and the idea of such a commitment is daunting. Thus, they date people that they know they would never actually marry, such as girls who are going on missions. I find it interesting that right before someone leaves on their mission, they suddenly become very desirable. It's either because they are no longer available, or because they no longer pose a threat to a peaceful, contentedly single mind. Or perhaps the men who are close suddenly realized what a good thing they were going to be missing out on. Either way, men date people they know will not pose a "what if" question: the silly ones. Perhaps the insecurity of lack of preparation pushes men to date silly girls.
There's more to it, though. Sensible guys look good and feel good when they are with silly girls. Why? Silly girls laugh at everything, think you're absolutely brilliant even if you're not, will smile at any activity, will not complain ever, and will not make you think. When a guy goes on a date with a silly girl, he suddenly becomes alpha prime. He's with a beautiful girl, she thinks he's funny and smart, and doesn't even mind telling him so. The insecurities are gone, and the ego of said male will grow and grow. I don't know anyone who doesn't like to feel like Alpha Prime, and a good way to feel that way is go with someone who will think you're amazing no matter what. I don't mean to demean in anyway the admiration that is felt toward someone when you truly do love them, but this silly over-the-topness is definitely something that boosts self esteem. Guys like that. It decreases their faults by comparison, and it also helps them set aside other concerns, like there concern that driving girls all around in contributing to harmful gasses that expand the hole in the ozone layer. Those types of concerns are enough to give anyone a pimple attack.
This silly attitude of laughing at everything and finding everything good about someone is a type of flirting. At least, that's how most guys interpret it. By nature no one does not like to be rejected, and the same holds true for guys. It may even be truer. This idea that you're important enough to be found and accepted is something that runs all the way back to when as children we would play hide and go seek. It's great to be the first one found, to run back and have someone chase after you. But what if no one chased, because you weren't worth the effort? Thinking that guys don't fall pray to these kind of insecurities is to think a lie. Guys like to be chased after as well, or at least accepted and allowed to chase. The idea of guys and girls chasing after each other is the fundamental of both hide and go seek and dating, meaning that both can be fun at any age. Except that dating is a little inappropriate for little people. Seriously. The point is that guys learn from a very early age that they are supposed to chase after girls, and it's a lot more fun if they're allowed to do so. Silly girls are flirty, according to the popular stereotype. This provides and excellent target for men to chase. A target that they are sure will enjoy the hunt. Insecurities about whether or not a girl will accept to be sought after are hard to overcome, and I fear in many cases lead to men dating rather silly women.
I hope I have not been too harsh on either of the genders in what I say. I realize that I may be putting too much emphasis on the role that insecurity plays in this dating anomaly, and I am positive that there is a much truer and complex answer out there, but at least that provides some sort of explanation. In defense of my gender in general, I know many men who do not date silly women for the fact that they are silly. I know many men of character who recognize that they are not sure about everything, that they do have insecurities, but they do not let them bother their actions. I salute those men, and also the women of character who do not date jerks because they know that they are better. I admire both genders for their various and diverse strengths.
And so it is, a questioned is answered.
I heard once that blue and green are the most aesthetically pleasing colors to the human eye. I heard various opinions as to why, such as the prevalence of those two colors, but my personal opinion is because they're both just plain beautiful. God knew that we as humans would like those colors, so he made the sky blue, the sea a blue-green, and the mountainside and rolling hills a beautiful and luscious green. At least, that’s true if you live in the east. It was made that way so we could enjoy it. I'm afraid that men indeed were created so as to be attracted to beautiful women, and especially women who pay minute detail to their bodies and the portrayal of them. It's a truth that at one point in time all men have to come to grips with. They just like beauty. So, it is that we come to the male version of what WM-Star commented, and even Devastator commented. "Girls who aren't so academically inclined focus more on appearance, making them more attractive.” is what was said specifically and "jerks are hot" could then translate into "less academically inclined girls are hot." I for one do not agree, but the point has been made by others, and so it must appear here. The hormonal imbalance so common to men is a driving force that causes even normally coherent males to the dating of silly members of the opposite sex. This is only one point, and in my mind is all too often left as the only point as to why men date silly people. Because, after all, in the movie Emma the character of Mr. Knightly is quoted as having said "Men of character, no matter what you may say, do not want silly wives!" It's a little bit of an extrapolation to take dating to matrimony, but it's basically the same principle. So, what character is it that drives men to date silly women? Is it solely because of hormones, a lack of sense in the face of beauty? You might say that such is the case, but I plan to show that it is not solely hormones that drive men to silliness, but something much more deep.
Men are males. Yes, I know this is an obvious statement, but look for a moment at what it implies. Males have been known to always try and show off how very manly they are. Bucks and many other animals head butt each other repeatedly to see who bows out first. Men get into boxing matches and play sports. Most male animals do not have one partner for life, and lamentably the idea of having lots of women is a sign of masculinity (deplorable, but the truth in the world. Not the real truth, but it is the image of the world). Men go to great lengths to show how much of a male they really are, even doing such things as eating sardines out of a can. Pretty gross, but they do it. Why? Because men are males, and males have insecurities. Big ones. The type that makes them act like suicidal maniacs, to show themselves as much as to others that they are not afraid, and that they will not be beaten. Insecurity is a hard thing to overcome, and only those "men of character" can truly overcome it. Insecurity, then, is the reason I name as why men date silly women.
This insecurity comes in different stages, or shows itself in different ways. One of the biggest is the "what if" insecurity. What if it works out, and becomes something serious? Perhaps deep down inside a man rings out the "what if this gets serious?" question, a frightening prospect at best. The average college kid has no means of supporting two people, is not emotionally prepared for such an adventure, and the idea of such a commitment is daunting. Thus, they date people that they know they would never actually marry, such as girls who are going on missions. I find it interesting that right before someone leaves on their mission, they suddenly become very desirable. It's either because they are no longer available, or because they no longer pose a threat to a peaceful, contentedly single mind. Or perhaps the men who are close suddenly realized what a good thing they were going to be missing out on. Either way, men date people they know will not pose a "what if" question: the silly ones. Perhaps the insecurity of lack of preparation pushes men to date silly girls.
There's more to it, though. Sensible guys look good and feel good when they are with silly girls. Why? Silly girls laugh at everything, think you're absolutely brilliant even if you're not, will smile at any activity, will not complain ever, and will not make you think. When a guy goes on a date with a silly girl, he suddenly becomes alpha prime. He's with a beautiful girl, she thinks he's funny and smart, and doesn't even mind telling him so. The insecurities are gone, and the ego of said male will grow and grow. I don't know anyone who doesn't like to feel like Alpha Prime, and a good way to feel that way is go with someone who will think you're amazing no matter what. I don't mean to demean in anyway the admiration that is felt toward someone when you truly do love them, but this silly over-the-topness is definitely something that boosts self esteem. Guys like that. It decreases their faults by comparison, and it also helps them set aside other concerns, like there concern that driving girls all around in contributing to harmful gasses that expand the hole in the ozone layer. Those types of concerns are enough to give anyone a pimple attack.
This silly attitude of laughing at everything and finding everything good about someone is a type of flirting. At least, that's how most guys interpret it. By nature no one does not like to be rejected, and the same holds true for guys. It may even be truer. This idea that you're important enough to be found and accepted is something that runs all the way back to when as children we would play hide and go seek. It's great to be the first one found, to run back and have someone chase after you. But what if no one chased, because you weren't worth the effort? Thinking that guys don't fall pray to these kind of insecurities is to think a lie. Guys like to be chased after as well, or at least accepted and allowed to chase. The idea of guys and girls chasing after each other is the fundamental of both hide and go seek and dating, meaning that both can be fun at any age. Except that dating is a little inappropriate for little people. Seriously. The point is that guys learn from a very early age that they are supposed to chase after girls, and it's a lot more fun if they're allowed to do so. Silly girls are flirty, according to the popular stereotype. This provides and excellent target for men to chase. A target that they are sure will enjoy the hunt. Insecurities about whether or not a girl will accept to be sought after are hard to overcome, and I fear in many cases lead to men dating rather silly women.
I hope I have not been too harsh on either of the genders in what I say. I realize that I may be putting too much emphasis on the role that insecurity plays in this dating anomaly, and I am positive that there is a much truer and complex answer out there, but at least that provides some sort of explanation. In defense of my gender in general, I know many men who do not date silly women for the fact that they are silly. I know many men of character who recognize that they are not sure about everything, that they do have insecurities, but they do not let them bother their actions. I salute those men, and also the women of character who do not date jerks because they know that they are better. I admire both genders for their various and diverse strengths.
And so it is, a questioned is answered.
Friday, November 30, 2007
The Question
To whomever may read this:
I was posed a question a while ago by a friend of mine who (even though some of you will know who it is) I will refer to as Fwidhipn (please refer to the blog titled "thanks" for explanation of the acronym) because I really don't have a cool pseudo name for her yet. The question came in retort to a question that has become a popular one for me. My question to her was "why is it that girls date jerks?" to which she wittily (and maybe testily) replied "why do guys date brainless girls?"
Touche.
So, in the spirit of wanting to answer both questions I issue a challenge to all readers. I would like to hear a plausible argument for both sides, but I'm particularly interested in the answer of why girls date jerks. I would prefer that if such an argument be written, that it be written from a girl's perspective. I for my part am going to try to answer the question posed me. However, this is just a sampler, because I'm not going to actually discuss it here. I am, however, declaring my intent.
If you decide to actually respond to this challenge/favor/whatever, the options of delivery are:
a) Post a comment on my blog
b) deliver the answer in person to my person (that would be me)
c) e-mail it too me. No, this is not a desperate attempt on my part to get emails, but rather a wish to hear more sides to the argument than what I've heard all ready.
I hope that someone does respond. Otherwise I might not have anything to build up on or answer in my blog. It's becoming awfully one sided here.
I was posed a question a while ago by a friend of mine who (even though some of you will know who it is) I will refer to as Fwidhipn (please refer to the blog titled "thanks" for explanation of the acronym) because I really don't have a cool pseudo name for her yet. The question came in retort to a question that has become a popular one for me. My question to her was "why is it that girls date jerks?" to which she wittily (and maybe testily) replied "why do guys date brainless girls?"
Touche.
So, in the spirit of wanting to answer both questions I issue a challenge to all readers. I would like to hear a plausible argument for both sides, but I'm particularly interested in the answer of why girls date jerks. I would prefer that if such an argument be written, that it be written from a girl's perspective. I for my part am going to try to answer the question posed me. However, this is just a sampler, because I'm not going to actually discuss it here. I am, however, declaring my intent.
If you decide to actually respond to this challenge/favor/whatever, the options of delivery are:
a) Post a comment on my blog
b) deliver the answer in person to my person (that would be me)
c) e-mail it too me. No, this is not a desperate attempt on my part to get emails, but rather a wish to hear more sides to the argument than what I've heard all ready.
I hope that someone does respond. Otherwise I might not have anything to build up on or answer in my blog. It's becoming awfully one sided here.
Insanity
Anyone who is familiar with this blog will no doubt recognize that many times these blogs come at a time when in order for me to achieve peacefulness with my own soul and passions I must take the time to write them down; to poke fun of them at times, and to cry about them at others. I like to put a happy face to the things that I do. I like to seek out what's best. I try my darndest to not show the slightest sign of unhappiness, and though to my mother there are tale tell signs of my discontent that show through like the sun burns through the morning mist, I find that the majority of people are incapable of seeing the truth, or at least commenting on it. I don't mean to alarm anyone while I say this. The truth is that the majority of the time I'm depressingly cheerful and happy. The problem is, the Lord has been so kind to me and let me be so happy, that the moment that I choose not to follow that particular pattern of thought, I find myself battling for all I'm worth. I'm afraid that I lack many necessary armaments to deal with that type of feeling. So, I normally let it go. It doesn't sit well with my stomach anyway.
But, that is just a slight tie into what I feel must needs to be discussed tonight. Yes, it is way past my normal bedtime, and I will no doubt be paying for this slight infraction upon my sleeping habits tomorrow morning, but I decided that since it's Friday night and I neither have a place to go nor am I dressed up to go there (to nowhere, I mean), I might as well take the time to present some interesting thoughts.
I heard once, thanks to the enigmatic (if that is a word) figure of Dilbert, that insanity is indeed the repetition of one action in particular in the hope that it will some day produce different results. In the light of such a revelation, I hereby declare myself insane. Not only insane, illogical, though in all reality they are synonyms for most people. Honestly, I have the tendency to futilely repeat myself over and over again, with the hope that something different will occur that has not happened before.
For instance, I act the same every single day. I get up, go to school, come home, eat some lunch, go to work, come home, spend time either with my friends, the piano, the gym, or the TV (though the last is rarity) and then go to bed at the unearthly hour of 11:00. And yet, I believe that someday I will get a better job. Does it not sound insane to you all? To go on, never requesting a raise, never using the means at my disposal to actively be seeking a job and yet believe that things will improve seems to me the very definition of insanity. And of course I'm just getting started. Knowing me, I have to throw in something about relationships, so I might as well just get it out of my system and say that the same holds true for my relationships. Even though I know that my actions have not procured the type of reaction that I wish for from someone that I like, I will continue to act the same way toward them. I normally have deep emotional beatings after such encounters with the opposite sex, which can be taxing. My point is that, even though I know that it's not working, I keep doing it anyway. Crazy. If you throw in schooling, friendships, hopes about finding a career path, you have a complete case for my insanity
I can still reason about it, though. Maybe that means I'm not crazy. Edgar Allen Poe would probably back me up on this. About the only hope that I have that I'm not really crazy is that I can still be rational about it. Though, in the case of Poe's tell-tale heart character, he started hearing a heart throb, though there was no sound. I guess my point is that if you see me fighting with my head, I'm just trying to get the wishful thinking out.
But, that is just a slight tie into what I feel must needs to be discussed tonight. Yes, it is way past my normal bedtime, and I will no doubt be paying for this slight infraction upon my sleeping habits tomorrow morning, but I decided that since it's Friday night and I neither have a place to go nor am I dressed up to go there (to nowhere, I mean), I might as well take the time to present some interesting thoughts.
I heard once, thanks to the enigmatic (if that is a word) figure of Dilbert, that insanity is indeed the repetition of one action in particular in the hope that it will some day produce different results. In the light of such a revelation, I hereby declare myself insane. Not only insane, illogical, though in all reality they are synonyms for most people. Honestly, I have the tendency to futilely repeat myself over and over again, with the hope that something different will occur that has not happened before.
For instance, I act the same every single day. I get up, go to school, come home, eat some lunch, go to work, come home, spend time either with my friends, the piano, the gym, or the TV (though the last is rarity) and then go to bed at the unearthly hour of 11:00. And yet, I believe that someday I will get a better job. Does it not sound insane to you all? To go on, never requesting a raise, never using the means at my disposal to actively be seeking a job and yet believe that things will improve seems to me the very definition of insanity. And of course I'm just getting started. Knowing me, I have to throw in something about relationships, so I might as well just get it out of my system and say that the same holds true for my relationships. Even though I know that my actions have not procured the type of reaction that I wish for from someone that I like, I will continue to act the same way toward them. I normally have deep emotional beatings after such encounters with the opposite sex, which can be taxing. My point is that, even though I know that it's not working, I keep doing it anyway. Crazy. If you throw in schooling, friendships, hopes about finding a career path, you have a complete case for my insanity
I can still reason about it, though. Maybe that means I'm not crazy. Edgar Allen Poe would probably back me up on this. About the only hope that I have that I'm not really crazy is that I can still be rational about it. Though, in the case of Poe's tell-tale heart character, he started hearing a heart throb, though there was no sound. I guess my point is that if you see me fighting with my head, I'm just trying to get the wishful thinking out.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Thanks
In the Spirit of the season, I have decided that I will dedicate a small moment to declaring a list of what I’m grateful for. Of course, this list cannot be all inclusive, as each day I’m becoming either more or less grateful for a large quantity of things. For instance, today I’m not particularly grateful for busy work, but ten years down the road I might be, because it might be my only source of income. That being said, here it is: a list of Major Bubble’s gratitudes. This is not in order of importance:
Socks
Warm Blankets
Uum
Hot chocolate on cold mornings
Journals
Blogs
Random hugs
Books
Computers
Grandparents
Big band dances
Pianos
Piano music
My voice
2 + 2
Mom
Dad
Basserpercusionist
The Friend For Whom I Don’t Have a Pseudo Name. (FFWIDHPN-Fwidhipn)
M+M
W+E
Tolkien Boy
Pelirojo
WM-Star
Unintentional naps (especially in Art History)
Young Less Attached Adults
My bed
Glasses and Contacts
Chairs
Music in general
Bananas
Pumpkin Pie
Christmas Wish Lists
Musical-G
The Awkward Politic
Bolivia Fanatica
Little people
Divine philosophy
Punching Bags
Crock pots
Washing machines
Refrigerators
Telephones, but not cell phones.
Dates (both the fruit and the non fruit)
The front porch moment at the end of dates
Horses
Cranky cats
Heaters
Hot from the oven homemade roles
Sweaters
Embarrassing moments in movies
Awkward moments in relationships.
Abusive little cousins
Undiscovered love
Strange smelling but good tasting foods
New experiences
Old people
An excuse to gather the entire family to one house to eat a meal.
Go out and thank someone for something. It creates warm fuzzies, and even though the politicians may disagree, this does not increase global warming.
Socks
Warm Blankets
Uum
Hot chocolate on cold mornings
Journals
Blogs
Random hugs
Books
Computers
Grandparents
Big band dances
Pianos
Piano music
My voice
2 + 2
Mom
Dad
Basserpercusionist
The Friend For Whom I Don’t Have a Pseudo Name. (FFWIDHPN-Fwidhipn)
M+M
W+E
Tolkien Boy
Pelirojo
WM-Star
Unintentional naps (especially in Art History)
Young Less Attached Adults
My bed
Glasses and Contacts
Chairs
Music in general
Bananas
Pumpkin Pie
Christmas Wish Lists
Musical-G
The Awkward Politic
Bolivia Fanatica
Little people
Divine philosophy
Punching Bags
Crock pots
Washing machines
Refrigerators
Telephones, but not cell phones.
Dates (both the fruit and the non fruit)
The front porch moment at the end of dates
Horses
Cranky cats
Heaters
Hot from the oven homemade roles
Sweaters
Embarrassing moments in movies
Awkward moments in relationships.
Abusive little cousins
Undiscovered love
Strange smelling but good tasting foods
New experiences
Old people
An excuse to gather the entire family to one house to eat a meal.
Go out and thank someone for something. It creates warm fuzzies, and even though the politicians may disagree, this does not increase global warming.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Uum and I
I was reviewing what I’ve done here, and I came to a startling realization. The blog that had the most comments (whether posted or no) and thereby the greatest impact on people was the blog titled “Major Bubbles needs a date.” It’s disturbing that my best work is done when I’m bemoaning my lack of popularity. Maybe all of those emo people have found out an important entertaining truth. People like to hear about other people’s problems. Perhaps the phrase “Laugh, and the world laughs with you. Weep, and you weep alone.” Is not necessarily true. Perhaps, the truth is that no one wants to weep with you, but they sure do like to hear that you are weeping. Or perhaps that’s an extrapolation of something that’s not really true to begin with. That being that my best work is when I’m bemoaning. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to start out my blog talking about that.
I really like my car. It’s a red Saturn, as I’m sure that many of you who read this are aware, as I take any and all opportunity to tell people about it. After consideration, I’ve come to the conclusion that the reason I like it so much is because it’s so much like my personality. So, I’ve come up with “Ten Reasons why Uum is like me.” Oh, Uum is my car’s name. It has reference to the sticker on his butt. I’m not like Uum in this regard. I don’t like people looking at my behind, so I normally don’t wear any declarations there. That’s not the case with Uum. It seems that he like people looking at him from behind, so he proudly got his name practically permanently placed upon his backside. I will now proceed with the list.
10. We both make a very unique noise. WM-Star told me that Uum sounded like a golf cart, and though I don’t agree, I concede that he does have a special sound. The combination of a smaller (sorry Uum!) engine and collapsed mount make for a very unique emanation. I’m not that much different. Pelirojo told me that she enjoyed that I make sounds that only a first tenor can make. While that does seem to be an insult to my manhood, the fact remains that Uum and I both make very peculiar sounds.
9. We like things cool. I do not work well in heat. I find myself literally nodding off. I nodded myself right out of a chair once. It’s really embarrassing in a quiet room to suddenly find yourself on the floor, with people looking at you quizzically. Uum’s the same way. He can’t stand the heat. He hates making things cool for others, and complains especially on the hills.
8. We don’t like to be left alone. I swear that he growled at me when I got into him after about a three day absence. That and he turned the radio up on me, so that I nearly went deaf when I turned the ignition. He hates it when I don’t hang out with him. I’m the same way. I love people, and I don’t like being completely alone. That doesn’t mean that I have to have people always. I think I’d go crazy if that were to happen.
7. First gear kills us. Let’s face the facts, here. I don’t think I’ve ever met a car that I liked that was happy with being in first gear. Uum certainly is the same way. When I shift down to first he always complains. In a squeal he reminds me quite forcibly that he does not like first gear. And I can never seem to stay happy unless I’m running full throttle, doing about a million things a day. Actually, it’s only about four things, but they take up a lot of time!
6. We both like music. He has good taste, I have good taste, it’s a mutually benefiting situation.
5. We both require a lot of work. I have to take a shower every day. He has to have a bath every week or so (and a good vacuuming). I have to work out at least three times a week to be happy. I have to take him in for checkups monthly. Either way, I have to spend a lot of money on both of us, and it’s kind of distressing.
4. We both aren’t risky. I mean this in a sensual sense. I am definitely not risky in a sensual sense. I used to go to great lengths to avoid even touching a girl (definitely a clean from cootey freak) and I think that attitude has unhealthily carried over into my current relationships. Either way, a girl can be most assured of a lack of any sort of risk when she’s with me, and actually may become frustrated by my complete lack of closeness altogether (it’s happened before, it could happen again). Uum is the same way. I had Nina tell me that “only a returned missionary would buy a car without a back seat.” Well, Uum doesn’t like to be risky and I don’t like to be risky. It’s a good match.
3. The vitals are there, even if some of the smoothness isn’t. We both go fast, and we both get to where we want to be in plenty of time. The problem is, shifting gears is pretty rough. I once thought that I might be smooth (but never risky) and, while going from fourth to fifth gear (which would put me extremely close to the knee of the person sitting next to me, which is where most likely her hand would be) smoothly slide off the gear shift and grab a hold of the girl at my side’s hand, and ask, in a cool tone “want to help me shift?” Apart from being a horrible pick up line, I have been told recently that this is not smooth. Uum isn’t much better, though. While shifting gears he chokes, jumps, and sometimes dies. I haven’t died while shifting into smoothness mode yet, but choking and jumping is very probable.
2. Girls like us. Even without smoothness girls still like Uum. The first comment I hear from the female gender when they see him is “Nice Car.” I wish girls would say that about me. “Nice guy” or something like that. “Nice body” might be a little risky, though, so I steer away from that (that’s why I only go to the gym three times a week. Or sometimes only two). Anyway, for some reason girls like Uum, and they seem to like me too. Or at least that’s what it says on the strange notes I find on my doorstep every other morning. . .
1. We show empty a long time before we really are. The truth of the matter is, I could probably go about twenty miles on an empty tank. Or maybe even fifty. I’m pretty sure that Uum considers himself empty any time he drops below about three gallons, or a quarter of a tank. I’m the same way. If there is any hunger pain at all, oh boy, am I empty, and I had better get something in me fast or I am going to be grouchy. Both of us understand the need for nourishment, and are willing to make the actions necessary to achieve satisfaction.
Any way you look at it, Uum and I make a great team. And while there are some differences (for instance, he can keep going and going, but I always seem to need a brake), we get along well. That’s why going down the road of life for the time being it’s going to be Uum and me.
I really like my car. It’s a red Saturn, as I’m sure that many of you who read this are aware, as I take any and all opportunity to tell people about it. After consideration, I’ve come to the conclusion that the reason I like it so much is because it’s so much like my personality. So, I’ve come up with “Ten Reasons why Uum is like me.” Oh, Uum is my car’s name. It has reference to the sticker on his butt. I’m not like Uum in this regard. I don’t like people looking at my behind, so I normally don’t wear any declarations there. That’s not the case with Uum. It seems that he like people looking at him from behind, so he proudly got his name practically permanently placed upon his backside. I will now proceed with the list.
10. We both make a very unique noise. WM-Star told me that Uum sounded like a golf cart, and though I don’t agree, I concede that he does have a special sound. The combination of a smaller (sorry Uum!) engine and collapsed mount make for a very unique emanation. I’m not that much different. Pelirojo told me that she enjoyed that I make sounds that only a first tenor can make. While that does seem to be an insult to my manhood, the fact remains that Uum and I both make very peculiar sounds.
9. We like things cool. I do not work well in heat. I find myself literally nodding off. I nodded myself right out of a chair once. It’s really embarrassing in a quiet room to suddenly find yourself on the floor, with people looking at you quizzically. Uum’s the same way. He can’t stand the heat. He hates making things cool for others, and complains especially on the hills.
8. We don’t like to be left alone. I swear that he growled at me when I got into him after about a three day absence. That and he turned the radio up on me, so that I nearly went deaf when I turned the ignition. He hates it when I don’t hang out with him. I’m the same way. I love people, and I don’t like being completely alone. That doesn’t mean that I have to have people always. I think I’d go crazy if that were to happen.
7. First gear kills us. Let’s face the facts, here. I don’t think I’ve ever met a car that I liked that was happy with being in first gear. Uum certainly is the same way. When I shift down to first he always complains. In a squeal he reminds me quite forcibly that he does not like first gear. And I can never seem to stay happy unless I’m running full throttle, doing about a million things a day. Actually, it’s only about four things, but they take up a lot of time!
6. We both like music. He has good taste, I have good taste, it’s a mutually benefiting situation.
5. We both require a lot of work. I have to take a shower every day. He has to have a bath every week or so (and a good vacuuming). I have to work out at least three times a week to be happy. I have to take him in for checkups monthly. Either way, I have to spend a lot of money on both of us, and it’s kind of distressing.
4. We both aren’t risky. I mean this in a sensual sense. I am definitely not risky in a sensual sense. I used to go to great lengths to avoid even touching a girl (definitely a clean from cootey freak) and I think that attitude has unhealthily carried over into my current relationships. Either way, a girl can be most assured of a lack of any sort of risk when she’s with me, and actually may become frustrated by my complete lack of closeness altogether (it’s happened before, it could happen again). Uum is the same way. I had Nina tell me that “only a returned missionary would buy a car without a back seat.” Well, Uum doesn’t like to be risky and I don’t like to be risky. It’s a good match.
3. The vitals are there, even if some of the smoothness isn’t. We both go fast, and we both get to where we want to be in plenty of time. The problem is, shifting gears is pretty rough. I once thought that I might be smooth (but never risky) and, while going from fourth to fifth gear (which would put me extremely close to the knee of the person sitting next to me, which is where most likely her hand would be) smoothly slide off the gear shift and grab a hold of the girl at my side’s hand, and ask, in a cool tone “want to help me shift?” Apart from being a horrible pick up line, I have been told recently that this is not smooth. Uum isn’t much better, though. While shifting gears he chokes, jumps, and sometimes dies. I haven’t died while shifting into smoothness mode yet, but choking and jumping is very probable.
2. Girls like us. Even without smoothness girls still like Uum. The first comment I hear from the female gender when they see him is “Nice Car.” I wish girls would say that about me. “Nice guy” or something like that. “Nice body” might be a little risky, though, so I steer away from that (that’s why I only go to the gym three times a week. Or sometimes only two). Anyway, for some reason girls like Uum, and they seem to like me too. Or at least that’s what it says on the strange notes I find on my doorstep every other morning. . .
1. We show empty a long time before we really are. The truth of the matter is, I could probably go about twenty miles on an empty tank. Or maybe even fifty. I’m pretty sure that Uum considers himself empty any time he drops below about three gallons, or a quarter of a tank. I’m the same way. If there is any hunger pain at all, oh boy, am I empty, and I had better get something in me fast or I am going to be grouchy. Both of us understand the need for nourishment, and are willing to make the actions necessary to achieve satisfaction.
Any way you look at it, Uum and I make a great team. And while there are some differences (for instance, he can keep going and going, but I always seem to need a brake), we get along well. That’s why going down the road of life for the time being it’s going to be Uum and me.
Subliminal Messages
After reading through what I have written here, I would like to apologize to all of you sane people who have not yet read (or have no intention of reading) any or all of the Harry Potter series. I would recommend reading them, if you happen to be a fan of that type of genre, but, that being said, let us on with the show.
Hello friendly visitors. It’s a great day to be writing once again in the overly neglected Yellow Lives. My lives continue to be very yellow, and almost depressingly so, in fact. Is it possible to be yellow and depressed? From what I understand, it’s seen as an outrage if you are a happy person, and are suffering from one of those moments of sadness or serious reflection.
Serious reflection can be a good thing. After having heard the not so recent news of Dumbledore’s sexual preference, I have been seriously contemplating the subtle implications of modern media, books being the most powerful (and often the most subtle), with other showings in movies and plays. The more I analyze, the more I see that there really are many “subconscious” messages played before our eyes in a most furtive manner, and I would like to talk about what set off this particular bout of reflection.
Each of us have a type of entertainment that pleases us most. Some like books, some like movies. Yet others prefer the live entertainment of concerts, of plays, and such things. In each of these types of media, in the things that play before our eyes in a constant barrage of entertainment and enjoyment, there are subtle messages laid out before us, things that only become evident if they are studied and analyzed. Those things are not always pleasing the conscious mind, and as such must be realized if they are to be changed.
I’d like to point out one that is particularly upsetting to me. This would be that of the portrayal of the Christ figure in our entertainment. In every story of good and evil, there is a savior, someone who represents the forces of good. Some authors are very aware of this, and even go to great lengths to establish the connection, or the correlation of their character with the Christ story. This is a very powerful writing and entertaining technique. The grand majority (I believe that it was seventy or so percent at last count) of people in the world believe in a God, and believe in a Savior figure, so this type of entertainment appeals to our innards. Or are minds, if you wish to put it that way. But with the portrayal of the Christ figure, there comes a certain ability to make allegations of the Christ himself. What I mean to say is that, whether it is done consciously and purposefully or no, when you make a savior figure a certain way, and then attach certain flaws to him, then suddenly you make suggestions to the mind of all who view your creation of the character of Christ himself.
I am well aware that many people will believe this to be a rather absurd statement. I mean, who would believe that anyone would take the idea of a sexual preference of a wizard, a mythical creature, and attach it to that of Christ? I hope to show why this (and also the example of superman) is not such an absurd idea at all, but rather a carefully calculated way to insert an idea into the minds of the people.
The correlation between the depiction of the character of Albus Dumbledore and Christ is a very strong one. Take for instance Albus’ ability to do the impossible. In the last book it explains how he beat a wicked wizard who had, quite literally, an unbeatable wand. Albus’ presence is felt everywhere in the books. In the last book his eyes take on an “all seeing” role, in the first book, he claims that he had been watching Harry, and that he did not need an invisibility cloak to become invisible. Always he knew what must be done, and was carefully calculating the steps needed in every instance. He was the leader of a small resistance against evil. Perhaps the strongest evidence that the portrayal of his character is a direct correlation with that of the Savior is the moments leading up to his death in the sixth book. First off, in order to enter the place where the key to defeating evil was found, he had to shed blood. Then, after having crossed the lake he willingly drank a nasty drink, a compelling and disturbing similarity to the words found in the bible, “remove from me this bitter cup.” Add to that that at the moment of Dumbledore’s weakness, he is murdered, betrayed by one of his very own followers (which seems to be influenced by the idea of the “Gospel according to Judas” which was quite a topic of interest in Mexico for awhile, but that is a discussion for another day). All of these are compelling evidences that Dumbledore was meant to portray Christ. What bothers me is that after having made such a connection between the two figures, there is then the declaration of a homosexual preference on the part of Dumbledore. I can not help but think that the mind would make a natural if unconscious connection between the two characters, which would suggest to the mind that both are homosexual. I do not find that a very agreeable suggestion. There are some who disagree, but my beliefs are such that I reject the idea.
I do not wish to say that the savior character of every story ought to be perfect. Far from it, I say. What bothers me is when the savior figure is portrayed as something extraordinary, something inhuman, almost god-like, and then given atrocious flaws. I enjoy the depiction of savior folks as being just that: common people who are trying to help others. Take for instance Pancha from Emperor’s new grove. He’s just a good guy, but in no way is he portrayed as anything other than human, even though in the story he is in the end the savior figure. I enjoy that immensely. But, if you contrast that with the depiction of Superman, whose very name depicts godly attributes and superhuman traits, and whose origin and non-human nature naturally set him apart and put him on a higher plane, and then make that super heroic savior unchaste and, in the end not virtuous, then I have a problem. I think that in no one’s mind there would be any strong connection between the character of Pancha and that of Christ, but between Superman and Him, well, the connection is much simpler.
Recently I’ve been studying about argumentive papers in a composition class. I perhaps have not represented sufficiently the other side of the argument, and perhaps what I point out to be deliberate choices and planting of ideas on the part of the authors is really just them trying to create something interesting and palpable to the general public. Be that as it may, there must be consciousness on the part of the public (that’s us) what we accept in our entertainment. I probably will still enjoy reading Harry Potter, but I hope that Mrs. Rowling will not be offended if I choose to believe that Dumbledore is not gay.
In an effort to be politically or at least legally correct, this blog entry represents only my personal beliefs. It in no way is affiliated with blogspot or other related groups. What was written here is not necessarily what the authors of the mentioned works believe or what they were trying to do; it’s just what I see as the affect of their work.
Hello friendly visitors. It’s a great day to be writing once again in the overly neglected Yellow Lives. My lives continue to be very yellow, and almost depressingly so, in fact. Is it possible to be yellow and depressed? From what I understand, it’s seen as an outrage if you are a happy person, and are suffering from one of those moments of sadness or serious reflection.
Serious reflection can be a good thing. After having heard the not so recent news of Dumbledore’s sexual preference, I have been seriously contemplating the subtle implications of modern media, books being the most powerful (and often the most subtle), with other showings in movies and plays. The more I analyze, the more I see that there really are many “subconscious” messages played before our eyes in a most furtive manner, and I would like to talk about what set off this particular bout of reflection.
Each of us have a type of entertainment that pleases us most. Some like books, some like movies. Yet others prefer the live entertainment of concerts, of plays, and such things. In each of these types of media, in the things that play before our eyes in a constant barrage of entertainment and enjoyment, there are subtle messages laid out before us, things that only become evident if they are studied and analyzed. Those things are not always pleasing the conscious mind, and as such must be realized if they are to be changed.
I’d like to point out one that is particularly upsetting to me. This would be that of the portrayal of the Christ figure in our entertainment. In every story of good and evil, there is a savior, someone who represents the forces of good. Some authors are very aware of this, and even go to great lengths to establish the connection, or the correlation of their character with the Christ story. This is a very powerful writing and entertaining technique. The grand majority (I believe that it was seventy or so percent at last count) of people in the world believe in a God, and believe in a Savior figure, so this type of entertainment appeals to our innards. Or are minds, if you wish to put it that way. But with the portrayal of the Christ figure, there comes a certain ability to make allegations of the Christ himself. What I mean to say is that, whether it is done consciously and purposefully or no, when you make a savior figure a certain way, and then attach certain flaws to him, then suddenly you make suggestions to the mind of all who view your creation of the character of Christ himself.
I am well aware that many people will believe this to be a rather absurd statement. I mean, who would believe that anyone would take the idea of a sexual preference of a wizard, a mythical creature, and attach it to that of Christ? I hope to show why this (and also the example of superman) is not such an absurd idea at all, but rather a carefully calculated way to insert an idea into the minds of the people.
The correlation between the depiction of the character of Albus Dumbledore and Christ is a very strong one. Take for instance Albus’ ability to do the impossible. In the last book it explains how he beat a wicked wizard who had, quite literally, an unbeatable wand. Albus’ presence is felt everywhere in the books. In the last book his eyes take on an “all seeing” role, in the first book, he claims that he had been watching Harry, and that he did not need an invisibility cloak to become invisible. Always he knew what must be done, and was carefully calculating the steps needed in every instance. He was the leader of a small resistance against evil. Perhaps the strongest evidence that the portrayal of his character is a direct correlation with that of the Savior is the moments leading up to his death in the sixth book. First off, in order to enter the place where the key to defeating evil was found, he had to shed blood. Then, after having crossed the lake he willingly drank a nasty drink, a compelling and disturbing similarity to the words found in the bible, “remove from me this bitter cup.” Add to that that at the moment of Dumbledore’s weakness, he is murdered, betrayed by one of his very own followers (which seems to be influenced by the idea of the “Gospel according to Judas” which was quite a topic of interest in Mexico for awhile, but that is a discussion for another day). All of these are compelling evidences that Dumbledore was meant to portray Christ. What bothers me is that after having made such a connection between the two figures, there is then the declaration of a homosexual preference on the part of Dumbledore. I can not help but think that the mind would make a natural if unconscious connection between the two characters, which would suggest to the mind that both are homosexual. I do not find that a very agreeable suggestion. There are some who disagree, but my beliefs are such that I reject the idea.
I do not wish to say that the savior character of every story ought to be perfect. Far from it, I say. What bothers me is when the savior figure is portrayed as something extraordinary, something inhuman, almost god-like, and then given atrocious flaws. I enjoy the depiction of savior folks as being just that: common people who are trying to help others. Take for instance Pancha from Emperor’s new grove. He’s just a good guy, but in no way is he portrayed as anything other than human, even though in the story he is in the end the savior figure. I enjoy that immensely. But, if you contrast that with the depiction of Superman, whose very name depicts godly attributes and superhuman traits, and whose origin and non-human nature naturally set him apart and put him on a higher plane, and then make that super heroic savior unchaste and, in the end not virtuous, then I have a problem. I think that in no one’s mind there would be any strong connection between the character of Pancha and that of Christ, but between Superman and Him, well, the connection is much simpler.
Recently I’ve been studying about argumentive papers in a composition class. I perhaps have not represented sufficiently the other side of the argument, and perhaps what I point out to be deliberate choices and planting of ideas on the part of the authors is really just them trying to create something interesting and palpable to the general public. Be that as it may, there must be consciousness on the part of the public (that’s us) what we accept in our entertainment. I probably will still enjoy reading Harry Potter, but I hope that Mrs. Rowling will not be offended if I choose to believe that Dumbledore is not gay.
In an effort to be politically or at least legally correct, this blog entry represents only my personal beliefs. It in no way is affiliated with blogspot or other related groups. What was written here is not necessarily what the authors of the mentioned works believe or what they were trying to do; it’s just what I see as the affect of their work.
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.
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.
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!
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!
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Tired
I am sleep deprived. Those of you who are familiar with me will not be surprised by this statement. No, it is not because I go to bed at the unearthly hour of three in the morning, as many of my colegic friends are wont to do, nor is it because I awake at an hour as to totally diminish the affect of any early sleeping. Actually, that brings up a good point. Is it possible to get up so early that it doesn't matter anymore how early you went to bed, you still feel tired? I think that would be an groundbreaking study. Eat your hearts out, scientists worldwide.
No, friends, I am deprived because for two nights I went to bed after my bedtime of ten thirty. That's right, I have no stamina whatsoever, and after two nights of retiring to my bad at the unholy hour of eleven thirty (you may feel free to snicker at me) I am stumbling about, eyes glazed and half shut, pale, with drool coming out of my face, and my arms stiff in zombie like mode. It's kind of fun to walk around that way. You should try it sometime.
I mention this for one real reason. I want an excuse to post one of my stellar poems. Okay, it's not my favorite, but I was going through papers that my mom has saved over the years, and I found this pre mission piece. Sometime in the future when I'm a famous writer, there will be specific periods to my writing: Pre-mission, post mission, post matrimonial, etc. It'll be great, and little kids will have to remember dates and everything. Poor kids. If I have anything to say about a class taught about me, I'd make sure that there were very few dates involved. Of course, if you read "Major Bubbles needs a date," you'll probably realise that it's not far from what my real life was like, anyway. (Please DO NOT see that as a plea for a date, because it's just a joke!). Anyway, here we have a classic piece of pre-mission Major Bubbles working in a yellow paper medium, using a medium ballpoint pen. I unveil with pleasure the work "Tired"
Tired
When Bodies are tired
how fares the soul?
Does it fly to heights unmeasured,
or sink to it's lows unknown?
For myself, I know that
at night I find it hard.
My soul is heavy,
weighed with doubt, with worry.
You say that I'm a fool
taking my rest so early.
Leaving my turmoiled conscious
and fleeing back to serenity.
"in the morning," you say,
"you will surely regret
the early night and lost hours.
After all, you still must do much."
Even though I could argue,
show the pros and cons,
I leave the argument
simply at: "How are you?"
In the morning I have strength,
hope dawns over the ridge of despair,
courage at what will be done
filling me. I am light.
"How am I?" you say
repeating my question
as you prepare to rush
on to a world of industry.
The seventh hour, the last hour
finds me resting, healing.
Into my most basic feelings and desires
going further up, and further in.
You stop your hurried pace
and look into my eyes
directly, a pleading look, you concentrate,
open your mouth, and out comes "I'm tired."
Okay, so maybe it was a let down after all of the hype I gave at the first. I mean, I know that it didn't rhyme, that it didn't have a very deep meaning. But, oh well, I wrote it, you've read it, and life is pretty darn good.
Actually, if you don't like this, most artists aren't really popular until after they're dead, so maybe you should wait to pass judgement until a later day! Look for better and different poetry in the future.
No, friends, I am deprived because for two nights I went to bed after my bedtime of ten thirty. That's right, I have no stamina whatsoever, and after two nights of retiring to my bad at the unholy hour of eleven thirty (you may feel free to snicker at me) I am stumbling about, eyes glazed and half shut, pale, with drool coming out of my face, and my arms stiff in zombie like mode. It's kind of fun to walk around that way. You should try it sometime.
I mention this for one real reason. I want an excuse to post one of my stellar poems. Okay, it's not my favorite, but I was going through papers that my mom has saved over the years, and I found this pre mission piece. Sometime in the future when I'm a famous writer, there will be specific periods to my writing: Pre-mission, post mission, post matrimonial, etc. It'll be great, and little kids will have to remember dates and everything. Poor kids. If I have anything to say about a class taught about me, I'd make sure that there were very few dates involved. Of course, if you read "Major Bubbles needs a date," you'll probably realise that it's not far from what my real life was like, anyway. (Please DO NOT see that as a plea for a date, because it's just a joke!). Anyway, here we have a classic piece of pre-mission Major Bubbles working in a yellow paper medium, using a medium ballpoint pen. I unveil with pleasure the work "Tired"
Tired
When Bodies are tired
how fares the soul?
Does it fly to heights unmeasured,
or sink to it's lows unknown?
For myself, I know that
at night I find it hard.
My soul is heavy,
weighed with doubt, with worry.
You say that I'm a fool
taking my rest so early.
Leaving my turmoiled conscious
and fleeing back to serenity.
"in the morning," you say,
"you will surely regret
the early night and lost hours.
After all, you still must do much."
Even though I could argue,
show the pros and cons,
I leave the argument
simply at: "How are you?"
In the morning I have strength,
hope dawns over the ridge of despair,
courage at what will be done
filling me. I am light.
"How am I?" you say
repeating my question
as you prepare to rush
on to a world of industry.
The seventh hour, the last hour
finds me resting, healing.
Into my most basic feelings and desires
going further up, and further in.
You stop your hurried pace
and look into my eyes
directly, a pleading look, you concentrate,
open your mouth, and out comes "I'm tired."
Okay, so maybe it was a let down after all of the hype I gave at the first. I mean, I know that it didn't rhyme, that it didn't have a very deep meaning. But, oh well, I wrote it, you've read it, and life is pretty darn good.
Actually, if you don't like this, most artists aren't really popular until after they're dead, so maybe you should wait to pass judgement until a later day! Look for better and different poetry in the future.
Geek Attack II
Dear blog friends, I just wanted to add to my other blog, and I wanted to make sure that this part would be read, because I think that it's a wonderful point. It was made by Pelirojo, a friend of mine, who most of you probably know, but I thought it was well put, so I'm posting it here. In other words, this brilliance is not mine.
"I agree with you about people becoming more and more connected to there cell phones than to the people behind them.
To many people that have relationships with people via. texts or by email. And then when they try to talk to these people in person they all of a sudden don't have any thing that they can really talk about.
Also it gives boys lame easy ways to get out of simple things like asking girls out on dates. It is so easy to write a email saying what you want it to say or a text that you can sort of edit before it gets to the person that it is intended for. (This part is my mere opinion) This lazy method sort of makes it harder in the long run, when you have hard things to talk about in a real relationship you can not always have well polished and edited conversations with people, that is part of what makes communication so hard.
Another problem is that some time people treat their cell phones better than they do other people. They will drive all the way back home to get there cell phones if they forget it. They will take it out and look at it all the time, or they will hold it all day long. They play games on it and can hardly wait for the moment when some one calls them or they get a message. People feel so incomplete if their cell phone dies. It is practically harder for people to deal with that than the death of a distant relative. It is such a funny thing that we care so much about something so dumb.
There are many many other this that we could attribute to, in our society, this technological revolution. Like the way that we have a higher rate of ADD children because we let them play so many electronic games that go so fast. So when children get in the real world and it goes by in a normal time it is so slow to them and they have problems concentrating. There are also many other problems that can be correlated to the instant gratification lives that we live thanks to the electronic devices that we have. This day and age of instant gratification many relationships are failing because so many things are so easy and fast that when people get into marriage and realize that it is neither easy or fast it becomes to hard and it is just so easy to get a divorce. I mean I know that I am sort of over doing this and making a pretty big mountain out of a molehill, but I think that is sort of the point.
The other horrifying thing that I see coming out of the electrical revolution is the overwhelming increasing in pornography and the affects that we see from that. Which I don't think I need to go into and that I really don't want to go into.
Pelirojo went on to say a few other things, but I think that that will suffice. I think that it's a very smart point. So boys, no lameness (girls, either), and lets get to being connected in real life. I love that! Go smile at someone! No more sending little :). No more! It's going to be a real, in the flesh smile! Okay, that's way too many sentences with exclamations. Have a good day, everyone.
"I agree with you about people becoming more and more connected to there cell phones than to the people behind them.
To many people that have relationships with people via. texts or by email. And then when they try to talk to these people in person they all of a sudden don't have any thing that they can really talk about.
Also it gives boys lame easy ways to get out of simple things like asking girls out on dates. It is so easy to write a email saying what you want it to say or a text that you can sort of edit before it gets to the person that it is intended for. (This part is my mere opinion) This lazy method sort of makes it harder in the long run, when you have hard things to talk about in a real relationship you can not always have well polished and edited conversations with people, that is part of what makes communication so hard.
Another problem is that some time people treat their cell phones better than they do other people. They will drive all the way back home to get there cell phones if they forget it. They will take it out and look at it all the time, or they will hold it all day long. They play games on it and can hardly wait for the moment when some one calls them or they get a message. People feel so incomplete if their cell phone dies. It is practically harder for people to deal with that than the death of a distant relative. It is such a funny thing that we care so much about something so dumb.
There are many many other this that we could attribute to, in our society, this technological revolution. Like the way that we have a higher rate of ADD children because we let them play so many electronic games that go so fast. So when children get in the real world and it goes by in a normal time it is so slow to them and they have problems concentrating. There are also many other problems that can be correlated to the instant gratification lives that we live thanks to the electronic devices that we have. This day and age of instant gratification many relationships are failing because so many things are so easy and fast that when people get into marriage and realize that it is neither easy or fast it becomes to hard and it is just so easy to get a divorce. I mean I know that I am sort of over doing this and making a pretty big mountain out of a molehill, but I think that is sort of the point.
The other horrifying thing that I see coming out of the electrical revolution is the overwhelming increasing in pornography and the affects that we see from that. Which I don't think I need to go into and that I really don't want to go into.
Pelirojo went on to say a few other things, but I think that that will suffice. I think that it's a very smart point. So boys, no lameness (girls, either), and lets get to being connected in real life. I love that! Go smile at someone! No more sending little :). No more! It's going to be a real, in the flesh smile! Okay, that's way too many sentences with exclamations. Have a good day, everyone.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Major Bubbles Needs a Date
Do you think we have a psychological need to go on dates? Maybe there's an unknown gland that suddenly flares to life at teenage years, that constantly sends an impulse up to the brain saying "must go on date" over and over again. I swear, if I could figure out which gland that was, I might just have it removed.
I speak lightly, of course. I love going on dates! I just had to mention it, because I seem to have built up a dependency on them. It's strange, really. Before my mission I could go a very long time without a date, but every once and awhile some hormone or other, or maybe glandular problem would flare up and I would feel biological pressure to go on a date. Maybe, as they say that girls hit the biological clock that calls them to children, I have a biological clock that calls me to dates. Problem is, I have no money, nor ideas of what type of date I would like to go on.
It's uncomfortable, really, having this calling going on, this summons to flirtation, without seeing the most viable form of fulfilling it. I mean, I bet there's lots of girls that I could go out on a date with (or at least I flatter myself to say so) but, questions like "where do I start?, who do I ask, what will I do" and the biggest "how in the world will I pay for it?" plague my mind and fill me full of doubt and uncertainty. It's boggling my mind.
I guess I could spend all of the money I have left and go on a date. A friend of mine, who I will henceforth refer to as Musical G, or maybe just G, invited me to find a date and go surfing. I will admit that I have adventured to go surfing before, but it wasn't of the least embarrassing circumstances I've ever been in. While it is true that I enjoyed myself immensely, I can't help but think that a date situation that is set up to make you look like a complete fool may not be the best idea. I guess that that way it would at least be light hearted. And heaven knows that I want to avoid anything heavy at the moment. Even weights. Ugh, I shudder at the thought.
I could go the way of the average college student. Picnic in the park, frisbee afterwards (though, on a date I am morally opposed to frisbee), a drive through the canyon, all of your basic non-expensive type stuff. As lame as they sound, these options are becoming more and more attractive, if only because they represent a very small economic commitment. Why, oh why, does dating have to be such an ordeal?
I'll end by saying, if you know someone who also needs to go on a date, and is of the female persuasion (and no, I'm not talking about men who are feminine, nor men who like girls. I'm saying a girl. No referencing men, I don't like that), please refer them to me. I can be reached by making a comment on this blog, or by the many other ways of reaching me. So, yeah, this is basically just my technological version of hanging a sign on a billboard, or writing a note in a bathroom that says:
"Call 1 801 Get Date for a good time. Major Bubbles needs a date"
As a post script, and because of the overwhelming support I have recieved from all my friends who read this post, (that's right, all five of you, I'm talking to you) I wish to point out that this blog was created purely for it's humerous affect, and not at all am I desperate for a date. Not that I wouldn't be okay if one of you lovely ladies were to ask. . .
I speak lightly, of course. I love going on dates! I just had to mention it, because I seem to have built up a dependency on them. It's strange, really. Before my mission I could go a very long time without a date, but every once and awhile some hormone or other, or maybe glandular problem would flare up and I would feel biological pressure to go on a date. Maybe, as they say that girls hit the biological clock that calls them to children, I have a biological clock that calls me to dates. Problem is, I have no money, nor ideas of what type of date I would like to go on.
It's uncomfortable, really, having this calling going on, this summons to flirtation, without seeing the most viable form of fulfilling it. I mean, I bet there's lots of girls that I could go out on a date with (or at least I flatter myself to say so) but, questions like "where do I start?, who do I ask, what will I do" and the biggest "how in the world will I pay for it?" plague my mind and fill me full of doubt and uncertainty. It's boggling my mind.
I guess I could spend all of the money I have left and go on a date. A friend of mine, who I will henceforth refer to as Musical G, or maybe just G, invited me to find a date and go surfing. I will admit that I have adventured to go surfing before, but it wasn't of the least embarrassing circumstances I've ever been in. While it is true that I enjoyed myself immensely, I can't help but think that a date situation that is set up to make you look like a complete fool may not be the best idea. I guess that that way it would at least be light hearted. And heaven knows that I want to avoid anything heavy at the moment. Even weights. Ugh, I shudder at the thought.
I could go the way of the average college student. Picnic in the park, frisbee afterwards (though, on a date I am morally opposed to frisbee), a drive through the canyon, all of your basic non-expensive type stuff. As lame as they sound, these options are becoming more and more attractive, if only because they represent a very small economic commitment. Why, oh why, does dating have to be such an ordeal?
I'll end by saying, if you know someone who also needs to go on a date, and is of the female persuasion (and no, I'm not talking about men who are feminine, nor men who like girls. I'm saying a girl. No referencing men, I don't like that), please refer them to me. I can be reached by making a comment on this blog, or by the many other ways of reaching me. So, yeah, this is basically just my technological version of hanging a sign on a billboard, or writing a note in a bathroom that says:
"Call 1 801 Get Date for a good time. Major Bubbles needs a date"
As a post script, and because of the overwhelming support I have recieved from all my friends who read this post, (that's right, all five of you, I'm talking to you) I wish to point out that this blog was created purely for it's humerous affect, and not at all am I desperate for a date. Not that I wouldn't be okay if one of you lovely ladies were to ask. . .
Monday, September 24, 2007
Cold!
I flunked a test today. I just had to start out with that today, because it's the only bad thing that's happened up till this moment in time, one thirty on a blistery cold afternoon. That's right, I went forth and fetched that bad grade. I even did it assertively, in half the time that we were given to complete the test. That's right, I went from no grade to bad grade in a whopping 5o minutes. I'm so excited.
But that's not the topic of my blog today! I thought about many topics that I could share with you today. The topic of this ever increasing in popularity is the weather! I couldn't find a more interesting subject to discuss, so I'll have to talk about this one. Today, I woke, up, rolled out of bed and was, brief pause for dramatic affect, cold! It was amazing! It's been a good two years since I rolled out of bed (that might be because in my mission we slept in hammocks for two years) and was cold. Okay, that's a slight exageration. I think I was cold on one day of my mission. But, still, the point is that it was quite a shock for my poor adjusting body, and I nearly had a heart attack. Also an exageration, but you get my point. It was wonderful! I think that when one is cold, a lot of normal body functions suddenly start to work at peak performance. I mean, not often do you shiver so uncontrolably that you have to consciously flex all of your muscles to keep from falling to the floor. It was an interesting experience. If you ever see someone on the floor, and it's cold, just know that they forgot to flex before the shivers set in. The best way to treat them is to get down on the floor and give them a hug. If you ever see me on the floor, don't worry, I just am trying to get a hug.
But the fun didn't stop there. I got into my hot red little car that some have indeed referred to as a hot red chick car, but seeing as I am neither hot, red, nor a chick, the car will have to be the hot reddy, and I'll go on being Major Bubbles. I got into him (his name is uum, if you'd like to know) and drove to school. It was raining, but I think a few degrees colder, and it might just have started raining down ice. I was cold. That wasn't the best part, though. All of a sudden I realised that I could see my breath! I think that the only possible attraction to smoking (not that there is one) could only be the ability to see some breath like substance at any time in the year. Though, this definately does not give us an excuse to go exude toxin just so we feel cool about seeing our breath. After that complete digression, let me just say that I saw my breath, and was excited. There's something about spraying forth a cloud of visible heated moisture that just makes one giddy inside. I was, indeed, giddy. I loved it.
I have other reasons why I liked the cold today. As the rain clouds cleared and the sun shone down, there was white on the mountains. I could just hear the interjection my Dad would have surely made if he'd been present. "There's snow in them there hills!" Not a good reflection on his grammer capabilities, but a wonderful memory from many years of snow covered mountains. I love the snow. It has been two years since I saw it, so you may imagine my excitement. Go ahead, I give you permision.
And last, but most definately not least, I would like to say, that the cold has a wonderful affect on fashion. I have never seen quite so many dazzling women as I do when it's cold out. I say that because there's something about completely dressed that just makes me get all weak kneed and ready to fall in love at a heartbeat. I love totally dressed women! I make that statement without any wish to insult the mirades of people who like to wear less clothing, I just state it as my opinion that girls (and guys too, for that matter, though I doubt my opinion matters to them) look so much better in plenty of clothing. As clothing becomes a matter of survival as the temperature drops, the fashions begin to change, and in my opinion for the better. At the risk of being risque, I would like to say that a girl in a sweater or sweatshirt can be about the sexiest thing in the planet. Am I allowed to say that on the internet?
Point aside, I love the cold. I hope that all of you go out and enjoy it before it gets too cold, because by then Major Bubbles will probably be found inside sipping hot chocolate and listening to Nat King Cole, or something else. Maybe even Michael Buble. So get out there, enjoy the cold!
But that's not the topic of my blog today! I thought about many topics that I could share with you today. The topic of this ever increasing in popularity is the weather! I couldn't find a more interesting subject to discuss, so I'll have to talk about this one. Today, I woke, up, rolled out of bed and was, brief pause for dramatic affect, cold! It was amazing! It's been a good two years since I rolled out of bed (that might be because in my mission we slept in hammocks for two years) and was cold. Okay, that's a slight exageration. I think I was cold on one day of my mission. But, still, the point is that it was quite a shock for my poor adjusting body, and I nearly had a heart attack. Also an exageration, but you get my point. It was wonderful! I think that when one is cold, a lot of normal body functions suddenly start to work at peak performance. I mean, not often do you shiver so uncontrolably that you have to consciously flex all of your muscles to keep from falling to the floor. It was an interesting experience. If you ever see someone on the floor, and it's cold, just know that they forgot to flex before the shivers set in. The best way to treat them is to get down on the floor and give them a hug. If you ever see me on the floor, don't worry, I just am trying to get a hug.
But the fun didn't stop there. I got into my hot red little car that some have indeed referred to as a hot red chick car, but seeing as I am neither hot, red, nor a chick, the car will have to be the hot reddy, and I'll go on being Major Bubbles. I got into him (his name is uum, if you'd like to know) and drove to school. It was raining, but I think a few degrees colder, and it might just have started raining down ice. I was cold. That wasn't the best part, though. All of a sudden I realised that I could see my breath! I think that the only possible attraction to smoking (not that there is one) could only be the ability to see some breath like substance at any time in the year. Though, this definately does not give us an excuse to go exude toxin just so we feel cool about seeing our breath. After that complete digression, let me just say that I saw my breath, and was excited. There's something about spraying forth a cloud of visible heated moisture that just makes one giddy inside. I was, indeed, giddy. I loved it.
I have other reasons why I liked the cold today. As the rain clouds cleared and the sun shone down, there was white on the mountains. I could just hear the interjection my Dad would have surely made if he'd been present. "There's snow in them there hills!" Not a good reflection on his grammer capabilities, but a wonderful memory from many years of snow covered mountains. I love the snow. It has been two years since I saw it, so you may imagine my excitement. Go ahead, I give you permision.
And last, but most definately not least, I would like to say, that the cold has a wonderful affect on fashion. I have never seen quite so many dazzling women as I do when it's cold out. I say that because there's something about completely dressed that just makes me get all weak kneed and ready to fall in love at a heartbeat. I love totally dressed women! I make that statement without any wish to insult the mirades of people who like to wear less clothing, I just state it as my opinion that girls (and guys too, for that matter, though I doubt my opinion matters to them) look so much better in plenty of clothing. As clothing becomes a matter of survival as the temperature drops, the fashions begin to change, and in my opinion for the better. At the risk of being risque, I would like to say that a girl in a sweater or sweatshirt can be about the sexiest thing in the planet. Am I allowed to say that on the internet?
Point aside, I love the cold. I hope that all of you go out and enjoy it before it gets too cold, because by then Major Bubbles will probably be found inside sipping hot chocolate and listening to Nat King Cole, or something else. Maybe even Michael Buble. So get out there, enjoy the cold!
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Geek Attack
The geeks are out to get us. I say this with all seriousness, but no generalization whatsoever. If you are a geek and are not out to get us, then I suggest you join forces with us in a case of self preservation. Because if you don't, the tide will come rushing over us, and we will be unable to stop it's flow.
I was walking from class to class the other day, something that for me is not an all together uncommon occurrence, when I saw what should have been an unusual site, but what is in reality an all too common site. I saw two people (a guy and a girl to make matters worse) walking together, and one was on his cell phone, while the other (the girl) was walking with her head slightly tilted down, a ponderous look on her face. I thought nothing of it at the moment, but as I walked I suddenly realised that I had just witnessed the affect of a very subtle and clever act of mass destruction. The destruction of human connection. That's right, the geeks are out to destroy the connection between man and man.
It might seem odd that I say this. I mean, supposedly cell phones, pagers, i phones, and the like are all in place to make sure that we are all connected. If you take this into consideration with a comment made on the blog "The sin of Smiling" it suddenly becomes obvious that the sudden influx of technology and connecting gadgets are making us less and less connected with men, and more and more connected with sound bites. Or is it bytes? Either way, I think it's something interesting to note that as we get more connected, we have fewer people skills.
I love geeks, though. Not that I'm all for this disconnect the human race by connecting them bid for world destruction, but I think they're wonderful people. I'm sure that some people would define me as a geek, really. And I'm all right with that.
The point, I guess, that I'd like to make, is that the connection doesn't always help. My friends think that I'm crazy, because I don't have a cell phone. Actually, that's only one of various reasons of why they think I'm crazy, but really it's just my effort to save this crazy world from becoming unconnected. I love you people and I don't mind not being on my cell phone, just so I can say hi on my way to class. But, then again, I'd probably be grinning sheepishly at you whether I was on the phone or not, so take it for what it's worth.
I was walking from class to class the other day, something that for me is not an all together uncommon occurrence, when I saw what should have been an unusual site, but what is in reality an all too common site. I saw two people (a guy and a girl to make matters worse) walking together, and one was on his cell phone, while the other (the girl) was walking with her head slightly tilted down, a ponderous look on her face. I thought nothing of it at the moment, but as I walked I suddenly realised that I had just witnessed the affect of a very subtle and clever act of mass destruction. The destruction of human connection. That's right, the geeks are out to destroy the connection between man and man.
It might seem odd that I say this. I mean, supposedly cell phones, pagers, i phones, and the like are all in place to make sure that we are all connected. If you take this into consideration with a comment made on the blog "The sin of Smiling" it suddenly becomes obvious that the sudden influx of technology and connecting gadgets are making us less and less connected with men, and more and more connected with sound bites. Or is it bytes? Either way, I think it's something interesting to note that as we get more connected, we have fewer people skills.
I love geeks, though. Not that I'm all for this disconnect the human race by connecting them bid for world destruction, but I think they're wonderful people. I'm sure that some people would define me as a geek, really. And I'm all right with that.
The point, I guess, that I'd like to make, is that the connection doesn't always help. My friends think that I'm crazy, because I don't have a cell phone. Actually, that's only one of various reasons of why they think I'm crazy, but really it's just my effort to save this crazy world from becoming unconnected. I love you people and I don't mind not being on my cell phone, just so I can say hi on my way to class. But, then again, I'd probably be grinning sheepishly at you whether I was on the phone or not, so take it for what it's worth.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Disney Love
As I walked between classes in my usual yellow manner, grinning sheepishly at any and all that passed me by, I was struck by an image that is a growing occurrence at my school. Two people holding hands. This image presented a few interesting questions. First and foremost was “should they be doing that in public?” which was quickly followed by the thought “well as long as they don’t get too mushy with their interdigitation, it ought to be all right.” After all, the guy was holding a slurpee. I can only imagine that this did not produce the most pleasant hand holding experience for the poor girl.
Among the thoughts that crossed my mind as I walked to my class was this one. “Why is it that I am not having that experience?” “What is it about my character that does not allow me to participate in the same sort of thing?” I wish to stress that I am, for the moment not seeking partnership in any way, shape, or form, but it gave me something to think about, and after much thought and deep reflection, I came upon the answer. It’s Disney’s fault. That’s right, all of my social related problems, my unfulfilled dreams and odd expectancies can be traced right down to the day that I was sat down and brainwashed by an hour and a half of pure romantic nonsense. I mean, whose bright idea was it to start giving children their romantic cues and roles at the age of five? I think that there has been some traumatic influence of these movies, and I don’t know if I’ll ever recover.
Take for example what we are taught by these movies fasading to be innocent entertainment. First off, they teach us that you will always know, right off the bat, who it is you’re in love with. An example of this is Aladdin. Here’s a girl walking down the street that as far as he knows is just like any other, and the minute he sees her he says “wow,” which in guy talk is loosely translated to “that’s my future wife.” Imagine the impact this had on my unsuspecting childish brain. It has created lots of havoc in my life. Once I saw a girl, any girl, who I thought was remotely pretty, I would have the very natural glandular reaction of having a crush on her. Can you imagine being in love at first sight with twenty girls at the same time? My poor brain was overloaded, and my glandular system wasn’t looking to hot, either. I’m pretty sure that it shut down completely for awhile, which might explain why I never had a girlfriend in High School. Do you see what it did to me? That was only one movie. If you look at Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, The Little Mermaid, all of them teach the same basic thing. You will know the first time you meet someone that she (or he, for our feminine audience) is the one for you. This is craziness! I’ve tried it, and trust me when I say that girls don’t like being told upon first acquaintances that they will be your future spouse, I’m telling the truth. I have a permanent handprint on my face as proof.
Which leads me into my next point. It’s not a given that the girl you fall for will fall for you. I defy any reader to come up with a Disney show that shows that the two parties involved weren’t mutual in their feelings, with the possible exception of Beauty and the Beast. Normally both parties feel that it’s a great idea, and that they should get hitched at the earliest possible moment. Not only is this a bad dating policy, it’s not very realistic. I find that the majority of the time the people that I fall in love with have no idea that I even exist, and I’m left to wander the earth, bitter at having a love unheard and unfelt by others. Oh, woe is me.
And I’m only getting started. Another example of things that are best not learned from Disney would be this. The one you fall in love with will always be someone really nice. Every single stinking movie shows the man always falling in love with a nice girl. The only exception from this rule for woman is Beauty and the Beast, but considering that that movie teaches the fable that all beasts will someday become good if not particularly physically appealing princes. (No, I didn’t come up with that opinion by myself, I’m repeating the opinion of girls I have heard express frustration at the lack of beauty in the changed beast). This doesn’t happen! Okay, maybe one out of two million jerks become good guys, but I feel sorry for all of the poor wonderful princesses out there who get tied up with beasts, in the hope of a mediocre looking good prince.
But, I digress. I was talking about how in every Disney movie, it’s always the nice people who fall in love with each other. I don’t get that, because the only time I ever could say I approached being in love, it turns out the girl was a bit nasty. I learned from those movies that if I ever did fall in love with someone on the first sight, I would be able to trust that girl until death do us part and beyond. Yeah, didn’t work. I mean, I could go on and on about the traumatic experience this was. If you really want to know, talk to any of my female friends who were around for the time period. I’m sure that they’d love to tell you what a jerk this girl was. Isn’t it great how the opposite gender (opposite of mine, of course) can travel the news and get the warning out that your love isn’t a Disney love?
If you take the example of Sleeping Beauty or Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, you get a whole new principle just rife with problems. The people you will fall in love with (if you haven’t already) will walk in on you at exactly the right moment. The moment when you are showing what’s best about you, you’re loving nature, you’re beautiful voice, whatever it may be, when you are portraying it that’s when love will appear. Then proceeds the moment of initial embarrassment at being found out in your goodness, and the love loves you even more for it. I personally find that the opposite is more often true for me. I find that girls I like have this tendency to walk in when I’m doing something damaging to my character, such as picking my nose or drooling in my sleep. (For those females who may be reading this, I do not pick my nose, often, and as far as drooling, I don’t think they’ve come up with a cure for that, so I feel I can admit it without shame) I reclaim Disney for giving me a false sense of security when indulging in these things, sure that someone attractive will never ever find me doing them. Of course they do, which just goes to show you can’t really trust that old wall of the “indecent screen of invisibility” and that unfortunately people really will see if you do something unbecoming.
Though I could go on and on, I think that I’ll wrap this up with a thrashing of one movie in particular. How about The Little Mermaid. Starting off, I learned from this movie that you could make someone fall in love with you using your voice. From this knowledge I formulated a plan that I would use in High School in search of love. I would improve my voice. After years of practice and improvement, I whipped out my voice at any chance I could. It is with dejection that I tell you that it doesn’t work. I have not yet enchanted anyone, and the prospects for the future are not very bright. Imagine my disillusionment. Next, I learned that you could get away with being rude at the table, as long as you were thought to be foreign, deaf, or otherwise handicapped (not that being foreign is a handicap.) I tried that once on my mission. I have to say, the mission president’s wife wasn’t very impressed. Moving along in the movie, I learned that living in the house of your future spouse is okay, which would lead me into a moral discussion that I’d rather not touch, but you can see the affects that that train of thought might bring. I learned that first kisses are always romantic, and even fish will start singing in joyous harmonies when the blessed moment arrives. Even though it hasn’t arrived for me, I’m told that it normally doesn’t work out like that, and that it’s normally a lot more awkward than anything. And, as Tolkien Boy would say, awkwardness abounded.
I could go on and on. But, I won’t because you’re tired of reading, and I think I’ve proved my point. Even with this newfound understanding about the gaps in my social education that I received at the hands of a merciless TV, I have to admit that I will probably make that a part of my future children’s education. That is, if I can overcome these romantic flukes and actually find someone to love me I will. Then again, if one of my future child’s glandular system explodes one day from being overused, I might never forgive myself.
Aware of the very rare chance that some sort of Disney affiliate might read this, I must say that I really love you guys, and that this is no way an assertion of hate, or intent to harm the production of your company. Please don’t sue me. I don’t have any money anyway. Really!
Among the thoughts that crossed my mind as I walked to my class was this one. “Why is it that I am not having that experience?” “What is it about my character that does not allow me to participate in the same sort of thing?” I wish to stress that I am, for the moment not seeking partnership in any way, shape, or form, but it gave me something to think about, and after much thought and deep reflection, I came upon the answer. It’s Disney’s fault. That’s right, all of my social related problems, my unfulfilled dreams and odd expectancies can be traced right down to the day that I was sat down and brainwashed by an hour and a half of pure romantic nonsense. I mean, whose bright idea was it to start giving children their romantic cues and roles at the age of five? I think that there has been some traumatic influence of these movies, and I don’t know if I’ll ever recover.
Take for example what we are taught by these movies fasading to be innocent entertainment. First off, they teach us that you will always know, right off the bat, who it is you’re in love with. An example of this is Aladdin. Here’s a girl walking down the street that as far as he knows is just like any other, and the minute he sees her he says “wow,” which in guy talk is loosely translated to “that’s my future wife.” Imagine the impact this had on my unsuspecting childish brain. It has created lots of havoc in my life. Once I saw a girl, any girl, who I thought was remotely pretty, I would have the very natural glandular reaction of having a crush on her. Can you imagine being in love at first sight with twenty girls at the same time? My poor brain was overloaded, and my glandular system wasn’t looking to hot, either. I’m pretty sure that it shut down completely for awhile, which might explain why I never had a girlfriend in High School. Do you see what it did to me? That was only one movie. If you look at Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, The Little Mermaid, all of them teach the same basic thing. You will know the first time you meet someone that she (or he, for our feminine audience) is the one for you. This is craziness! I’ve tried it, and trust me when I say that girls don’t like being told upon first acquaintances that they will be your future spouse, I’m telling the truth. I have a permanent handprint on my face as proof.
Which leads me into my next point. It’s not a given that the girl you fall for will fall for you. I defy any reader to come up with a Disney show that shows that the two parties involved weren’t mutual in their feelings, with the possible exception of Beauty and the Beast. Normally both parties feel that it’s a great idea, and that they should get hitched at the earliest possible moment. Not only is this a bad dating policy, it’s not very realistic. I find that the majority of the time the people that I fall in love with have no idea that I even exist, and I’m left to wander the earth, bitter at having a love unheard and unfelt by others. Oh, woe is me.
And I’m only getting started. Another example of things that are best not learned from Disney would be this. The one you fall in love with will always be someone really nice. Every single stinking movie shows the man always falling in love with a nice girl. The only exception from this rule for woman is Beauty and the Beast, but considering that that movie teaches the fable that all beasts will someday become good if not particularly physically appealing princes. (No, I didn’t come up with that opinion by myself, I’m repeating the opinion of girls I have heard express frustration at the lack of beauty in the changed beast). This doesn’t happen! Okay, maybe one out of two million jerks become good guys, but I feel sorry for all of the poor wonderful princesses out there who get tied up with beasts, in the hope of a mediocre looking good prince.
But, I digress. I was talking about how in every Disney movie, it’s always the nice people who fall in love with each other. I don’t get that, because the only time I ever could say I approached being in love, it turns out the girl was a bit nasty. I learned from those movies that if I ever did fall in love with someone on the first sight, I would be able to trust that girl until death do us part and beyond. Yeah, didn’t work. I mean, I could go on and on about the traumatic experience this was. If you really want to know, talk to any of my female friends who were around for the time period. I’m sure that they’d love to tell you what a jerk this girl was. Isn’t it great how the opposite gender (opposite of mine, of course) can travel the news and get the warning out that your love isn’t a Disney love?
If you take the example of Sleeping Beauty or Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, you get a whole new principle just rife with problems. The people you will fall in love with (if you haven’t already) will walk in on you at exactly the right moment. The moment when you are showing what’s best about you, you’re loving nature, you’re beautiful voice, whatever it may be, when you are portraying it that’s when love will appear. Then proceeds the moment of initial embarrassment at being found out in your goodness, and the love loves you even more for it. I personally find that the opposite is more often true for me. I find that girls I like have this tendency to walk in when I’m doing something damaging to my character, such as picking my nose or drooling in my sleep. (For those females who may be reading this, I do not pick my nose, often, and as far as drooling, I don’t think they’ve come up with a cure for that, so I feel I can admit it without shame) I reclaim Disney for giving me a false sense of security when indulging in these things, sure that someone attractive will never ever find me doing them. Of course they do, which just goes to show you can’t really trust that old wall of the “indecent screen of invisibility” and that unfortunately people really will see if you do something unbecoming.
Though I could go on and on, I think that I’ll wrap this up with a thrashing of one movie in particular. How about The Little Mermaid. Starting off, I learned from this movie that you could make someone fall in love with you using your voice. From this knowledge I formulated a plan that I would use in High School in search of love. I would improve my voice. After years of practice and improvement, I whipped out my voice at any chance I could. It is with dejection that I tell you that it doesn’t work. I have not yet enchanted anyone, and the prospects for the future are not very bright. Imagine my disillusionment. Next, I learned that you could get away with being rude at the table, as long as you were thought to be foreign, deaf, or otherwise handicapped (not that being foreign is a handicap.) I tried that once on my mission. I have to say, the mission president’s wife wasn’t very impressed. Moving along in the movie, I learned that living in the house of your future spouse is okay, which would lead me into a moral discussion that I’d rather not touch, but you can see the affects that that train of thought might bring. I learned that first kisses are always romantic, and even fish will start singing in joyous harmonies when the blessed moment arrives. Even though it hasn’t arrived for me, I’m told that it normally doesn’t work out like that, and that it’s normally a lot more awkward than anything. And, as Tolkien Boy would say, awkwardness abounded.
I could go on and on. But, I won’t because you’re tired of reading, and I think I’ve proved my point. Even with this newfound understanding about the gaps in my social education that I received at the hands of a merciless TV, I have to admit that I will probably make that a part of my future children’s education. That is, if I can overcome these romantic flukes and actually find someone to love me I will. Then again, if one of my future child’s glandular system explodes one day from being overused, I might never forgive myself.
Aware of the very rare chance that some sort of Disney affiliate might read this, I must say that I really love you guys, and that this is no way an assertion of hate, or intent to harm the production of your company. Please don’t sue me. I don’t have any money anyway. Really!
Sunday, September 9, 2007
A salute to the brave
I am not used to talking about depressing subjects, least of all here, where even my cover of almost complete lack of popularity (among bloggers I should say) will not entirely cover over when I talk about personal type subjects. Such as, for instance, my underwear drawer. No need to be alarmed! I promise I will not talk about such intimate details, but rather confine myself to the task of writing my abstract thoughts, which seem to be depressingly green, or perhaps even purple. I feel that many of us are plagued by something so very hard to control, to master. That being said, I wrote a small soliloquy about the most common disease among young people, and perhaps even among old people. I do wax religious at one moment, but it's they ray of hope that pulls me through my silent reveries, so please bear with it, and I hope that some good might come out of it. After all, there's healing involved when you talk about touchy subjects.
That being said, let us go on with the show!
What is it about our feelings, our most innate and natural instincts, that drives us to seek out others, to chase after companionship? We seem to go willy nilly in persuit of those people who understand us, to seek actively after someone, something, that makes us feel that we are not alone. It has been said “We read to know we are not alone” or even, “We love to know we are not alone,” to which I add “We believe to know we are not alone.” There is something, some discontented monster that drives us all to chase after some sort of connection. Why? Why is that we are not content merely to exist? Why is it that we feel lonely? It cannot be only natural instinct, for animals do not feel the same. They wander from place to place, content merely by the presence of others, whilst we mortals seek after something so much more difficult to encounter. Understanding from others, and connections to them that last. We form acquaintances, friendships, and even get married, all seeming to be with the intent to appease this hungry beast that lives within us all. The beast of loneliness.
And yet, at times I sit all alone, and contemplate. I feel the rush of the wind passing me by, I hear the swaying of the trees and the shaking of the leaves. I behold the beauty of the stars as their transcendent light trickles down upon me, lighting my soul from without, the eternity of light displayed before me. I sit there, feeling the cool night air, the sharpness of fall approaching, and I wonder. There are times when the beast quiets down, when the monster within me is, for a breath in time, silent. It makes me wonder. Does God ever feel lonely? Does He understand that monster?
I’ve found that those moments of quiet reflection, of solitary solace, show me an inner peace not often realised. The type where you say “I am content to be me in me,” without outside approval or appreciation. Perhaps God feels that way, and wants us all to feel that way. Though He did say “It is not good for man to be alone” (nor woman either, for that matter), I can’t help but feel that true power comes when we realise that happiness is not dependant on others, though it may be influenced by them. How this works, I still don’t know, but perhaps you have to be married to understand. Or have kids. Or something. I really could not tell, in the cosmic scheme of things I’m just a child with dreams and nightmares, the light bringing me aspirations worthy of Camelot, of peace and prosperity, of kindness and good will, with the dark bringing me frights and worries, the type that make little children afraid and grown men worried. I’m just an ordinary person, with the usual amount of wisdom and foresight, and the usual abundance of hindsight.
But, whoever I be, and however I am, I can tell one thing. The power behind the word “lonely” is a true force to be reckoned with. There are those who endure lives nightmares, abuse and torments, only to be free of the idea of being lonely. Some are much more content being someones, then being happy. I know of few so brave, nor few so strong, as those who face lives challenges alone. Though, I do admit, I believe we are never alone, those who confront challenges without a mortal along for support have my deepest respect. I salute you, all of you strong enough to keep going, to do what is right, without that kind of backup, without the constant prodding of visible support. You are brave, and I admire you for it. I know that God will look down and say “well done,” and one day He will put an end to that horrible beast called loneliness inside each of us, and then, finally then, we will understand.
That being said, let us go on with the show!
What is it about our feelings, our most innate and natural instincts, that drives us to seek out others, to chase after companionship? We seem to go willy nilly in persuit of those people who understand us, to seek actively after someone, something, that makes us feel that we are not alone. It has been said “We read to know we are not alone” or even, “We love to know we are not alone,” to which I add “We believe to know we are not alone.” There is something, some discontented monster that drives us all to chase after some sort of connection. Why? Why is that we are not content merely to exist? Why is it that we feel lonely? It cannot be only natural instinct, for animals do not feel the same. They wander from place to place, content merely by the presence of others, whilst we mortals seek after something so much more difficult to encounter. Understanding from others, and connections to them that last. We form acquaintances, friendships, and even get married, all seeming to be with the intent to appease this hungry beast that lives within us all. The beast of loneliness.
And yet, at times I sit all alone, and contemplate. I feel the rush of the wind passing me by, I hear the swaying of the trees and the shaking of the leaves. I behold the beauty of the stars as their transcendent light trickles down upon me, lighting my soul from without, the eternity of light displayed before me. I sit there, feeling the cool night air, the sharpness of fall approaching, and I wonder. There are times when the beast quiets down, when the monster within me is, for a breath in time, silent. It makes me wonder. Does God ever feel lonely? Does He understand that monster?
I’ve found that those moments of quiet reflection, of solitary solace, show me an inner peace not often realised. The type where you say “I am content to be me in me,” without outside approval or appreciation. Perhaps God feels that way, and wants us all to feel that way. Though He did say “It is not good for man to be alone” (nor woman either, for that matter), I can’t help but feel that true power comes when we realise that happiness is not dependant on others, though it may be influenced by them. How this works, I still don’t know, but perhaps you have to be married to understand. Or have kids. Or something. I really could not tell, in the cosmic scheme of things I’m just a child with dreams and nightmares, the light bringing me aspirations worthy of Camelot, of peace and prosperity, of kindness and good will, with the dark bringing me frights and worries, the type that make little children afraid and grown men worried. I’m just an ordinary person, with the usual amount of wisdom and foresight, and the usual abundance of hindsight.
But, whoever I be, and however I am, I can tell one thing. The power behind the word “lonely” is a true force to be reckoned with. There are those who endure lives nightmares, abuse and torments, only to be free of the idea of being lonely. Some are much more content being someones, then being happy. I know of few so brave, nor few so strong, as those who face lives challenges alone. Though, I do admit, I believe we are never alone, those who confront challenges without a mortal along for support have my deepest respect. I salute you, all of you strong enough to keep going, to do what is right, without that kind of backup, without the constant prodding of visible support. You are brave, and I admire you for it. I know that God will look down and say “well done,” and one day He will put an end to that horrible beast called loneliness inside each of us, and then, finally then, we will understand.
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