One of my favorite things about the week right after Christmas is the big headache of going through every last one of my presents that were clothes and finding getting them exchanged for clothes that are actually my size. This year I’ve been blessed with a jacket that was a size too small, a shirt that was two sizes too big, and a couple of shirts that shrunk right after I washed them. I know this because they were stylish, but now they are just suffocating.
But, all is not lost. Most of these are returnable (alas, the turncoat shirts will not be replaced, as they have had the condemning influence of laundry detergent all over them and have lost their smell), so there is no real damage done. In truth, I have already made a few voyages to insure that the cloth cut out in the correct shape is what I actually own. Therefore, having sallied forth and gotten my goods I have a leather jacket of almost criminal coolness and other assorted clothing.
I’m talking about my jacket because it has magical powers. No, I’m serious! You think I’m just talking for the sake of my blog, and that I need to spout sensational exaggerations to ensure the attention of my readers. I learned a long time ago that most of the people who read my blog don’t get past the first paragraph anyway, so why should I pollute my honest and benevolent page of emoting with such blatant misrepresentations of my own clothing? I do hereby declare the validity of my jacket’s magical prowess. It makes those who wear it transform.
I understand that it is almost impossible to understand the miracle, but let me explain what it is. Before Christmas I was, as many of you know, strange. Let us just say that I did not fit into the category of normal in any leap of imagination or of faith. Nor did I fit into the category of cool. I was a category all to myself, it appeared, and thus I preferred it. A few days after having purchased my jacket, though, I began to notice changes. I grew my sideburns out just a little. I combed my hair different. I even went so far to almost lay down my head on a girl’s lap, at which point my natural not cool defenders kicked in and forced me into a sitting position on the other side of the room. Either that, or the glare in her eye had made it clear that I was definitely not getting anywhere near her lap. Either way, I realized that something radical had happened. I had transformed into a normal nearly cool guy. I was stunned. How could I face my family? How could I face my friends? What would I say when their world was rocked with the realization that I no longer fit into the quietly crazy sidekick role?
I pondered over this turn of events for a long time. Then something happened. My leather jacket also seems to have a self defense mechanism, because it disallowed itself to be used when I was sweating. After having heaved a basketball around for a good two hours, I was not a pleasant picture. My jacket then refused to be worn. My hair went back to normal, and I’m pretty sure that my sideburns went back to where they were before. Suddenly I was quietly crazy! I was torn between relief and sadness at seeing this new side of me go. I think I cried. On the inside.
A new jacket does not stay unworn for long, though. Once again I tempted the waters, put on the jacket, and suddenly I was slightly cool again! It was irrational, but it was true. I had more comments about my clothes and about my looks then ever before. It was disturbing, and I didn’t know how to react. Mostly I made it a joke (which incidentally helped me become slightly less cool again). It was then I knew the truth. With my new leather jacket, I was a transformer.
To celebrate I shaved one of sideburns a little higher than the other, to show my now flip floppy character.
So there is a new hero to the scene. Major Bubbles, the amazing social phenomena! Seen now in hddvd…d…d. I am a Transformer!
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Newness!
When the government endeavors to create laws that put the power into the hands of the few, and diminish the power of the people, limiting their rights to progress, to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, it is the right of the people to complain.
I heard something akin to that from the television. Not exactly the normal place to look for reliable information, but I find PBS’s documentaries informative and interesting. That particular misquote came from Andrew Jackson, a particularly controversial president. Though Fwidapin might agree to the more negative view of him, there was enough good along with the bad to spark my curiosity. Why is it that one man can bring about such opposing views of himself as to be described as an “Atrocious Saint” or an “Urban Savage?” Most of the time I find oxymorons nothing more than a word game I play with myself to keep my mind engaged while I deal with dreadfully dull moments, but seeing it as an accurate description of an actual man’s character, I am led to ask why. Why would a man be described as both? I am not a historian, I do not claim any sort of previous knowledge or understanding, I merely claim interest. Can anyone answer why Andrew Jackson is still considered a great controversy?
But, that’s not really what this blog is about. Most people would probably say that Andrew Jackson is a terrible way to start a new year. That being said, perhaps I should apologize. I don’t think I will though, because, after all, it’s my blog, you sillies!
I’ve heard that the Mayans were wonderful astronomers. Can you imagine those stout little men, so often depicted as little more than fierce whiskey loving warriors as astronomers, running around in white lab coats? Although they probably didn’t wear the lab coats, their achievements are a wonder to us even today. I understand that they made a calendar so exact that it’s off only by a few minutes (or was it hours) even today, some fifteen hundred years later. Honestly, my calendar doesn’t even tell me what hour it is, so these guys must have been pretty intense. Can you imagine what sort of precision that must have took, to make something that changed ever so slightly every day, for thousands of years until the mystic date of April 6, 2012? Once again I saw a documentary about these people in which the calendar was depicted as a rather large clockwork type concoction, with lots of dials that moved. I imagine it was more like a sun chart, but never having seen the beastly day planner, I really couldn’t tell you.
But let’s go with the idea of the giant clockwork. In watches and clocks around the country, the small but pivotal movement of that great calendar is reflected, and such was the case as the world stood still (literally until midnight, then they were kissing like crazy) to watch the last few official seconds of 2007 tick by with the last one giving its most atlantean effort ‘till it was squished underneath a lighted ball. The world rejoiced, and all over the world little dials went like this: 7… 7… 8… 8… The world rejoiced because one miniscule number changed by one. Mathematically, this number is so close to insignificant it’s terrifying. In terms of historical or world events, the number one means so little that we laugh if we try and figure out the date of most anything (except the most recent occurrences) to be closer than within a few thousand, or even ten of thousands.
Why does the world rejoice over the change of one number, and only by one?
Probably because that number means a whole lot more than just its numerical value. I think people celebrate hope more than anything. Every 1st of the 1st month is an excuse to start new. It’s a reason to begin to mend bridges, to make new vows (I did see someone get proposed to on new years day), to do something better, to do something new. This hope is pretty silly, as we don’t change with the passing of one day. Not really, anyway.
Not that that should make us despair and give up on New Years altogether. Honestly, I think that just like Christmas and Thanksgiving should be continually on our minds, New Years should be a daily event. Maybe each day only changes the dials on the day switch, and only once every year it changes the year switch, but each day is a new beginning. I am a firm believer in changing our lives one day at a time, and I don’t believe that once every year is a good way to go about it. Each morning can have the New Year Spirit, just as each meal can have the Thanksgiving Spirit, and each moment we have with others can be filled with the Spirit of Christmas. Each day can be a holiday, and I’m glad about that.
So here’s to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. And for the whole year round, and though it is terribly politically correct to say it (though I mean it in a terribly politically incorrect way) Happy Holidays!
As a disclaimer, I really am not normally this introspective and pondering. Most of the time I talk about complete nonsense. I’m afraid I’m a bit out of practice of late, due to a lack of contact with the outside world. My office can hardly be referred to as outside, and apart from that I find it hard to wander far from my house during the winter break. I’ve been awfully boring this vacation.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Soul Suckers and Ford Trucks
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?
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?
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.
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