Why did I ever make this thing? It's embarassing in hindsight. Who was ever going to read this crap?
Oh well.
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
Friday, June 26, 2015
Closure
Obviously, this isn't a daily thing anymore. It was fun while it lasted - a nice little experiment. Maybe I'll still update it if I decide to turn it into a real blog (read: not a journal), but it's served its purpose.
Monday, June 22, 2015
The Faceless Are All Ok
Some people have an immense amount of talent, and find venues for this talent within the society that they live in, creating something fruitful out of it and becoming well known and loved by many for doing what they do well. Some people are in the right place at the right time, and manage to find success simply because they were able to take advantage of their circumstances.
I'm not talking about people who make a lot of money, although that usually ends up being the case anyway. I'm talking about people who find a way to live that other people can appreciate, and that are able to live their lives in an immediately apparent and fulfilling way. Steve Jobs built a corporate empire that continues to improve the lives of many and has directly affected the evolution of modern society. Jerry Seinfeld is an extremely talented and unique comedian that created a sitcom that's almost universally beloved, and is one of the most widely referenced pieces of pop culture. Martin Luther King Jr. used his experience with suffering and his skill in rhetoric to make the world a genuinely better and more accepting place. As you can see, there's a wide range of ways to cement yourself in history as someone who's done something "good" with their life.
But there's also a lot of people who don't get known for what they do. The faceless worker bees of society, the lost soul who can't seem to find their place in life, those who are sick and unable to live their lives the way that they want to. They're people, with thoughts and talents and work that they complete just like people that everybody knows and sees as successful. But unlike celebrities and public figures, nobody can see what they do or who they are at first glance. Their public identity doesn't reflect who they are. Does this make them lesser people? I really don't think so.
Struggling with who you are and what you can do is all too common. A lot of people worry that they aren't successful or famous or loved or perceived as important. But I don't think anyone has to be. Everyone has a different purpose in life, and nobody is worth less because their purpose is "smaller" than someone else. Every piece of the puzzle is important. Jerry Seinfeld and the barista who filled your coffee at Starbucks and your middle school math teacher are all human beings, living their own lives with their own philosophies and thoughts and talents and ideas. And not everyone gets to use their talent - sometimes people are robbed of this chance by illness, or don't have the support that they need to cultivate their particular talent. An unfortunate truth, yes, but not one that diminishes the intrinsic worth of the human soul.
Mother Teresa once said, “It is not the magnitude of our actions, but the amount of love that is put into them that matters.” Wise words to live by. "Success" is less about how many people see and acknowledge what you do, or even benefit from what you do, and a lot more about the intention that goes into what you do and doing the best that you can do with what you're given.
I'm not talking about people who make a lot of money, although that usually ends up being the case anyway. I'm talking about people who find a way to live that other people can appreciate, and that are able to live their lives in an immediately apparent and fulfilling way. Steve Jobs built a corporate empire that continues to improve the lives of many and has directly affected the evolution of modern society. Jerry Seinfeld is an extremely talented and unique comedian that created a sitcom that's almost universally beloved, and is one of the most widely referenced pieces of pop culture. Martin Luther King Jr. used his experience with suffering and his skill in rhetoric to make the world a genuinely better and more accepting place. As you can see, there's a wide range of ways to cement yourself in history as someone who's done something "good" with their life.
But there's also a lot of people who don't get known for what they do. The faceless worker bees of society, the lost soul who can't seem to find their place in life, those who are sick and unable to live their lives the way that they want to. They're people, with thoughts and talents and work that they complete just like people that everybody knows and sees as successful. But unlike celebrities and public figures, nobody can see what they do or who they are at first glance. Their public identity doesn't reflect who they are. Does this make them lesser people? I really don't think so.
Struggling with who you are and what you can do is all too common. A lot of people worry that they aren't successful or famous or loved or perceived as important. But I don't think anyone has to be. Everyone has a different purpose in life, and nobody is worth less because their purpose is "smaller" than someone else. Every piece of the puzzle is important. Jerry Seinfeld and the barista who filled your coffee at Starbucks and your middle school math teacher are all human beings, living their own lives with their own philosophies and thoughts and talents and ideas. And not everyone gets to use their talent - sometimes people are robbed of this chance by illness, or don't have the support that they need to cultivate their particular talent. An unfortunate truth, yes, but not one that diminishes the intrinsic worth of the human soul.
Mother Teresa once said, “It is not the magnitude of our actions, but the amount of love that is put into them that matters.” Wise words to live by. "Success" is less about how many people see and acknowledge what you do, or even benefit from what you do, and a lot more about the intention that goes into what you do and doing the best that you can do with what you're given.
Saturday, June 20, 2015
Framework of Creation
It's amazing how the pieces of things come together to create something so much larger than their individual parts.
This has always been fascinating. I first realized how amazing it is when I was very little, watching the construction of a bridge or a part of a highway or something similar. I would see it every time I was on that highway, which was often. Over time, what was originally a bunch of pillars and iron bars and randomly placed cranes and irate workers became something that had a definite form and shape to it, and was not only aesthetically appealing but also useful - a far cry from its skeletal beginnings.
The three instances I find this to be most apparently amazing in are:
Art,
Language,
And music.
Art by itself is lines and shapes. Every piece of art begins with a single stroke, and then another, and then another, and then you add some color, you move onto another set of lines and strokes and shapes, and before you know it you have something that doesn't look anything like a bunch of lines and shapes, but like something with substance, a real piece of art. Look at this, for example:
It's quite nice to look at. Yet it began with lines and shapes. In fact, it still is lines and shapes and splashes of color. But we don't see that - the finished product is something entirely beyond its individual parts, the sum of those parts creating something absolutely impossible to see when those parts are perceived on their own.
Words are the same way. I've spent a good amount of my life studying Japanese - 日本語. The reason it interests me is that it's a logographic language - to most Americans it looks like a bunch of random shapes. Yet, if you can decipher and interpret those shapes and symbols, they cease to become shapes and they become a means of communication and expression. Some people can't read the Arabic alphabet that we use in western culture. Since we learn how to read at such an early age, it becomes something that's totally second nature to us, like breathing. Yet, looking at a language you once could not understand and then being able to read it really opens your eyes as to how beautifully complex words and letters and written language are. Learning Japanese, learning an entire system of writing, you realize how you have to take it step by step, and it at first seems impossible. し and シ are different ways of expressing the syllable "shi", which blows the mind of the ordinary English speaker. "They're just pictures," you think. But no, they're so much more than that - you just can't see their purpose or worth because you're used to seeing the complete picture of written language, its individual pieces lost long ago, when you first learned to read. Written language is truly an amazing thing, its depth and complexity and intrinsic worth and beauty often unappreciated. It's almost like magic, watching seemingly random symbols gain meaning when placed together in a certain way.
Then there's music. Music is a bunch of sounds. Blow on a trumpet without any experience with playing a trumpet before, or pluck the string on a guitar, and you have the beginnings of music. A meaningless noise, hardly anything worth mentioning. Yet you put all the noises that individual instruments make, change the intonation of the sound at specific times, and piece them together, and - voila - you suddenly have an orchestra, a song, a performance. Music is especially interesting in that you can add people's voices to it, something meant for communication, and turn them into something musical. Poetry suddenly has a voice and a means of expression beyond simple words. And, going even further, and coming off of discussing the beauty of written language, it's even more amazing how music has its own language.
That's Mozart. That looks like total and complete gibberish to anyone who can't read sheet music. It's amazing how that represents sounds, and how the sheet music translates to audible music when performed. In a way, music is another form of language and communication, sometimes of an even higher form than spoken language, and the ability to write and read it only cements this fact.
This could go on all day. Everything has pieces to it that aren't even a shadow of the completed product. There's a universal meaning to this, too. The lives we live are a lot like these individual pieces, where we can't see their greater purpose when viewed on their own. We're part of a society, a world, and a universe, something much bigger and more beautiful and more grand than we can possibly comprehend or imagine.
In my perfect view of an afterlife, we get to see the grand plan, the finished product, the big picture, the final culmination of the sum of each of our lives. I say this because I'm sure it's impossible to see with the limited perspective that we have. I'm sure it's a hell of a product, too. The grand scheme of creation. What could be more amazing than that?
This has always been fascinating. I first realized how amazing it is when I was very little, watching the construction of a bridge or a part of a highway or something similar. I would see it every time I was on that highway, which was often. Over time, what was originally a bunch of pillars and iron bars and randomly placed cranes and irate workers became something that had a definite form and shape to it, and was not only aesthetically appealing but also useful - a far cry from its skeletal beginnings.
The three instances I find this to be most apparently amazing in are:
Art,
Language,
And music.
Art by itself is lines and shapes. Every piece of art begins with a single stroke, and then another, and then another, and then you add some color, you move onto another set of lines and strokes and shapes, and before you know it you have something that doesn't look anything like a bunch of lines and shapes, but like something with substance, a real piece of art. Look at this, for example:
It's quite nice to look at. Yet it began with lines and shapes. In fact, it still is lines and shapes and splashes of color. But we don't see that - the finished product is something entirely beyond its individual parts, the sum of those parts creating something absolutely impossible to see when those parts are perceived on their own.
Words are the same way. I've spent a good amount of my life studying Japanese - 日本語. The reason it interests me is that it's a logographic language - to most Americans it looks like a bunch of random shapes. Yet, if you can decipher and interpret those shapes and symbols, they cease to become shapes and they become a means of communication and expression. Some people can't read the Arabic alphabet that we use in western culture. Since we learn how to read at such an early age, it becomes something that's totally second nature to us, like breathing. Yet, looking at a language you once could not understand and then being able to read it really opens your eyes as to how beautifully complex words and letters and written language are. Learning Japanese, learning an entire system of writing, you realize how you have to take it step by step, and it at first seems impossible. し and シ are different ways of expressing the syllable "shi", which blows the mind of the ordinary English speaker. "They're just pictures," you think. But no, they're so much more than that - you just can't see their purpose or worth because you're used to seeing the complete picture of written language, its individual pieces lost long ago, when you first learned to read. Written language is truly an amazing thing, its depth and complexity and intrinsic worth and beauty often unappreciated. It's almost like magic, watching seemingly random symbols gain meaning when placed together in a certain way.
Then there's music. Music is a bunch of sounds. Blow on a trumpet without any experience with playing a trumpet before, or pluck the string on a guitar, and you have the beginnings of music. A meaningless noise, hardly anything worth mentioning. Yet you put all the noises that individual instruments make, change the intonation of the sound at specific times, and piece them together, and - voila - you suddenly have an orchestra, a song, a performance. Music is especially interesting in that you can add people's voices to it, something meant for communication, and turn them into something musical. Poetry suddenly has a voice and a means of expression beyond simple words. And, going even further, and coming off of discussing the beauty of written language, it's even more amazing how music has its own language.
That's Mozart. That looks like total and complete gibberish to anyone who can't read sheet music. It's amazing how that represents sounds, and how the sheet music translates to audible music when performed. In a way, music is another form of language and communication, sometimes of an even higher form than spoken language, and the ability to write and read it only cements this fact.
This could go on all day. Everything has pieces to it that aren't even a shadow of the completed product. There's a universal meaning to this, too. The lives we live are a lot like these individual pieces, where we can't see their greater purpose when viewed on their own. We're part of a society, a world, and a universe, something much bigger and more beautiful and more grand than we can possibly comprehend or imagine.
In my perfect view of an afterlife, we get to see the grand plan, the finished product, the big picture, the final culmination of the sum of each of our lives. I say this because I'm sure it's impossible to see with the limited perspective that we have. I'm sure it's a hell of a product, too. The grand scheme of creation. What could be more amazing than that?
Thursday, June 18, 2015
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
Hello, Dante Aligheri
I am convinced that all paperwork comes from one of the circles of Hell.
Writing? Cool. Essays? Also cool. Letters and e-mails? They're alright!
But enter the world of job applications, appeal forms, score reports, tax forms, account books, lesson planning, grading, and any other exercise in pure tedium...
No wonder so many bankers quit their jobs, despite them paying so well. Insane amounts of time spent doing insanity inducing work.
On that note, this little guy popped up on my social media feed this morning - the tentatively named Opisthoteuthis Adorabilis.
Sometimes, especially in the midst of a string of stressful experiences, it's the little things that make your day. Sometimes those little things are an adorable octopus. That's life, I guess.
Writing? Cool. Essays? Also cool. Letters and e-mails? They're alright!
But enter the world of job applications, appeal forms, score reports, tax forms, account books, lesson planning, grading, and any other exercise in pure tedium...
No wonder so many bankers quit their jobs, despite them paying so well. Insane amounts of time spent doing insanity inducing work.
On that note, this little guy popped up on my social media feed this morning - the tentatively named Opisthoteuthis Adorabilis.
Sometimes, especially in the midst of a string of stressful experiences, it's the little things that make your day. Sometimes those little things are an adorable octopus. That's life, I guess.
Monday, June 15, 2015
Soul Unison
I just got back from my first wedding experience.
It was very nice. I have never seen two people look happier in my entire life. The ceremony was short but sweet (Protestants don't have a mass) and the reception was something out of this world. At the Boston Museum of Science, of all places! Creative, interesting, and fun. The food was great! Never before have I had a bite sized hamburger, and possibly never again will I have one.
Weddings are truly a beautiful thing. A marriage of two souls, a unison of being, a lifetime of commitment through thick and thin, a true declaration of love.
Now, the realist in me: I have no doubts about my cousin's love for his recent wife, but the ceremony brought to mind a terrible realization that these supposed-to-be lifelong bonds are broken all too often in our society and in our generation. After witnessing the process firsthand, I can't help but feel broken by the fact that divorce is so commonplace these days. In A Man for All Seasons, Thomas Moore is utterly appalled that King Henry would ask to break these sacred bonds. What would he think of our society today?
Love is not a concept to be trifled with or taken lightly. It's a lifelong commitment - you stick with it for good, through good times and bad, you forgive, you love wholly and truly. My train of thought is not outdated or idealistic, as some may argue, as love and the sanctity of marriage are timeless and meant to remain unbroken, even in hardship. I have seen so many people take marriage with a grain of salt, or even denounce it entirely; truly, we have lost our way as a society if this is how people see the world, and how they view the concept of love and commitment to one another.
Here I am, speaking about such depressing things in the aftermath of a wedding. The sheer joy I witnessed led me to think that such a sacred experience should never, ever be treated with anything less than the utmost reverence. So, back to happy thoughts. I am extremely happy for and proud of my cousin for achieving this monumental milestone in his life, and I wish him the absolute best going forward.
It was very nice. I have never seen two people look happier in my entire life. The ceremony was short but sweet (Protestants don't have a mass) and the reception was something out of this world. At the Boston Museum of Science, of all places! Creative, interesting, and fun. The food was great! Never before have I had a bite sized hamburger, and possibly never again will I have one.
Weddings are truly a beautiful thing. A marriage of two souls, a unison of being, a lifetime of commitment through thick and thin, a true declaration of love.
Now, the realist in me: I have no doubts about my cousin's love for his recent wife, but the ceremony brought to mind a terrible realization that these supposed-to-be lifelong bonds are broken all too often in our society and in our generation. After witnessing the process firsthand, I can't help but feel broken by the fact that divorce is so commonplace these days. In A Man for All Seasons, Thomas Moore is utterly appalled that King Henry would ask to break these sacred bonds. What would he think of our society today?
Love is not a concept to be trifled with or taken lightly. It's a lifelong commitment - you stick with it for good, through good times and bad, you forgive, you love wholly and truly. My train of thought is not outdated or idealistic, as some may argue, as love and the sanctity of marriage are timeless and meant to remain unbroken, even in hardship. I have seen so many people take marriage with a grain of salt, or even denounce it entirely; truly, we have lost our way as a society if this is how people see the world, and how they view the concept of love and commitment to one another.
Here I am, speaking about such depressing things in the aftermath of a wedding. The sheer joy I witnessed led me to think that such a sacred experience should never, ever be treated with anything less than the utmost reverence. So, back to happy thoughts. I am extremely happy for and proud of my cousin for achieving this monumental milestone in his life, and I wish him the absolute best going forward.
Saturday, June 13, 2015
Back to the Stone Age
Won't be able to update this weekend, as I'll be out of state with no access to a computer.
This blog has been great for my health - having a place to store my thoughts and get them out there is quite nice, and forcing myself to update every day is good exercise in discipline. I highly recommend it to anyone looking to find some focus in their life, or to introverts who have trouble talking to people in person. If you're one of the few people who reads it - thanks. I hope the stuff I write is at least somewhat as enjoyable for you to read as it is for me to write.
This blog has been great for my health - having a place to store my thoughts and get them out there is quite nice, and forcing myself to update every day is good exercise in discipline. I highly recommend it to anyone looking to find some focus in their life, or to introverts who have trouble talking to people in person. If you're one of the few people who reads it - thanks. I hope the stuff I write is at least somewhat as enjoyable for you to read as it is for me to write.
Friday, June 12, 2015
White World of Wonder
There's a reason most children love and look forward to snow - it's breathtaking and otherwordly, and a nice break from the monotony of year round weather. The fact that, in most regions of the world, it's confined to the season of Winter, gives it a sense of uniqueness and a distinct identity and symbolism. There's also something about snow that's very comforting. It makes you feel safe. It's soft, it's inviting, and it's stunning to look at. The silence of gentle snow, or even the wind blowing in a snowstorm, are intensely calming sounds that put one's heart at ease. Even the smell of snow is soothing.
Snow is great. So many things surrounding its presence are great, too - Evergreen trees, the Christmas season, the animals that live in it - Polar Bears, Penguins, Orcas - and even the sports of the Winter season, such as skiing and snowboarding, are all so much better than their ordinary, non snow oriented counterparts. Around this time every year, as Summer really begins to get itself into gear, I find its presence sorely missed.
 |
| Tell me this doesn't calm you down. |
Of course, snow is an ephemeral joy. Not long after it falls, it becomes brown and ugly, polluted by whatever products are used to clean the streets, and then evaporates entirely. Not to mention the labor associated with clearing the driveway, the difficulty that it instills in driving anywhere, and the biting cold that it brings along with it. It does often result in days off, however, which are indeed nice.
Even considering its transiently enjoyable nature, snow is one of the best experiences that nature has to offer. Ah, Winter, where have you gone?
Thursday, June 11, 2015
Melodic Bliss
Music is the lifeblood of the soul.
Whenever I'm down, I listen to music. Whenever I'm happy, I listen to music. Whenever I feel calm, I listen to music. Whenever I feel frustrated, I listen to music. It doesn't matter what I'm feeling - music is so all encompassing and so varied that there's a song or a track or a performance for every occasion. It's a true form of artistic expression, and, like all good art, completely varies depending on the perception of its recipient, melding with their mood, personality, and worldview and working in tandem with who they are to create an individualized product born out of a perfectly symbiotic relationship between artist and listener.
I'm a big fan of soundtracks, in particular. That's right: the music I listen to is often background music, lacking any sort of lyrics and sometimes - if you can believe it - lacking a catchy beat as well. A big reason I tend to gravitate towards this type of music is that I remember it from the particular moment that it played in whatever movie, game, or television show that I first heard it in, and it blends with my memory of what was going on at the time, making it representative of what was transpiring. It seems tailored for an event, rather than made as pure "music" meant to be ear candy. Incidentally, instrumental music is also great for creative inspiration, often calling to mind all sorts of characters and worlds and events that I could never come up with on my own. If you're an artist, as I am a writer, it becomes a font of creative energy. It serves other, more pragmatic purposes, too - recently, I've been using this to help me get to sleep. I've been out like a rock every night. Of course, ordinary music, the kind most normal human beings listen to, is just as amazing.
Music essentially becomes an ambassador for moments and memories, instantly calling to mind what was happening at the time and becoming symbolic of these moments. Music also conjures up new feelings. It resonates with the soul. Music serves so many purposes, from guiding emotion to eliciting memory to expressing its artist's feelings to helping us cope with life.
In short, music is awesome!
Of course, not everyone likes all music. You ever get in a friend's car, only to have them put on something you clearly do not consider to be music? It's all about the ear of the beholder, I suppose.
Whenever I'm down, I listen to music. Whenever I'm happy, I listen to music. Whenever I feel calm, I listen to music. Whenever I feel frustrated, I listen to music. It doesn't matter what I'm feeling - music is so all encompassing and so varied that there's a song or a track or a performance for every occasion. It's a true form of artistic expression, and, like all good art, completely varies depending on the perception of its recipient, melding with their mood, personality, and worldview and working in tandem with who they are to create an individualized product born out of a perfectly symbiotic relationship between artist and listener.
I'm a big fan of soundtracks, in particular. That's right: the music I listen to is often background music, lacking any sort of lyrics and sometimes - if you can believe it - lacking a catchy beat as well. A big reason I tend to gravitate towards this type of music is that I remember it from the particular moment that it played in whatever movie, game, or television show that I first heard it in, and it blends with my memory of what was going on at the time, making it representative of what was transpiring. It seems tailored for an event, rather than made as pure "music" meant to be ear candy. Incidentally, instrumental music is also great for creative inspiration, often calling to mind all sorts of characters and worlds and events that I could never come up with on my own. If you're an artist, as I am a writer, it becomes a font of creative energy. It serves other, more pragmatic purposes, too - recently, I've been using this to help me get to sleep. I've been out like a rock every night. Of course, ordinary music, the kind most normal human beings listen to, is just as amazing.
Music essentially becomes an ambassador for moments and memories, instantly calling to mind what was happening at the time and becoming symbolic of these moments. Music also conjures up new feelings. It resonates with the soul. Music serves so many purposes, from guiding emotion to eliciting memory to expressing its artist's feelings to helping us cope with life.
In short, music is awesome!
Of course, not everyone likes all music. You ever get in a friend's car, only to have them put on something you clearly do not consider to be music? It's all about the ear of the beholder, I suppose.
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Not Everything is Complicated
What do you do when people genuinely don't like you?
In true Seinfeld fashion, sometimes you can have absolutely no problems with someone, but they can have plenty of problems with you. What do you do with this seemingly wanton dislike? I'm sure everyone has those friends of friends that have a very particular aura of negativity that they seem to direct directly at you, despite you having done nothing against them. Sometimes you just don't gel with people, and sometimes people just don't gel with you, even if you try your best to be nice to everyone.
Ignore it. Not everyone is worth your time.
 |
| Hello, Jerry. |
In true Seinfeld fashion, sometimes you can have absolutely no problems with someone, but they can have plenty of problems with you. What do you do with this seemingly wanton dislike? I'm sure everyone has those friends of friends that have a very particular aura of negativity that they seem to direct directly at you, despite you having done nothing against them. Sometimes you just don't gel with people, and sometimes people just don't gel with you, even if you try your best to be nice to everyone.
Ignore it. Not everyone is worth your time.
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Sincerity and Fulfillment
I'm a big fan of video games.
Anyone who knows me knows this. Why do I love them so much? Why do I still cling to a hobby that many people perceive as something for children or for shut-ins? It doesn't garner me much popularity or recognition, I'll tell you that. Among many social communities, identifying yourself as someone who loves games - other than mainstream titles such as Call of Duty - is a surefire way to lose things. That respect you might have had? Ehhh, I'm not sure about this guy. That person who thought you were an alright guy? But, he's such a nerd, though.
People who take their hobbies a little too seriously aren't exactly the life of the party, and I try to avoid being one of these guys:
But let's face it. You play Dark Souls or Breath of Fire or Final Fantasy or Warcraft or talk about Dragon Ball Z or One Piece or Lord of the Rings or Marvel or Star Wars or Dungeons and Dragons or that roleplay you were involved in or Magic: The Gathering or Pokemon and you immediately become a nerd.
I love being a nerd, and involving myself in nerd communities, partially because it's stigmatized.
The people who are involved in "nerd culture" are involved out of a very genuine interest in it. So much so that they are often willing to pursue it in lieu of losing social standing. They honestly love what they are talking about, they love getting lost in these books and movies and games that are fantastical and whimsical and out there and fun. They resonate with the characters that they love, they feel a sense of fulfillment from being involved in these worlds, or maybe they enjoy the action and set pieces. Lord knows that Dragon Ball isn't exactly a Shakespearean play, but people find characters and stories in it that they love anyway. People don't become invested in nerd culture to become popular, well liked, or successful. It's the exact opposite of going out and buying a pair of Jordans or a designer bag or driving a Lamborghini. Nobody becomes or embraces being a nerd for status, power, comfort, or any other insincere reason. People are invested in the culture because they appreciate it for what it is. In that sense, being around and involved with "nerds" is an experience where you let go of your vanity and social desire and find an immense sense of freedom and sincerity.
I've been in all kinds of social groups. I don't only identify as a "nerd". But out of all the people I've been around, these groups of people that genuinely love what they do and what they buy and what they talk about have always felt the most "real". Of course, there are bad seeds in any group, and I find a lot of so-called nerds to be truly terrible people, as there are inevitably bound to be. But when you find a good group of people, they're really fun - and liberating - to hang out with.
I won't lie. Being accepted feels good. I like being able to name drop a popular movie or television show or news story and have people know what I'm talking about and involve themselves in the conversation. But there's not nearly as strong of a connection with mainstream media as there is with niche media, where people connect on a much deeper level because of its relative obscurity or stigmatization. You have to look and try harder to find these connections, which makes them mean a heck of a lot more.
There's a lot of negative stereotypes involved with nerddom, but the positives seem to outweigh the negatives. I choose to like nerdy things because I like the sincerity that can be found in their communities. It doesn't help my social networking at all, but it gives a sense of fulfillment that casual and mainstream interests do not. That said, these hobbies are a luxury. They're always the first thing to go when life gets too hectic or too busy, and there's plenty more important things in life, like relationships and work and other responsibilities. But if you have the time? They're great!
In another universe, I'm blogging about sports teams for the same reason. I'm a sports atheist, because I grew up physically inept. But they know their stuff, too. Watching people argue about this or that player or stats or what team is doing what makes me feel like they're truly invested in what they're talking about, just like nerds. Sports culture is a little too abrasive for me, but I can totally understand it. As I've gotten older, purely intellectual pursuits have given me a similar sense of fulfillment. I love hanging out with English nerds, for example.
Long story short - it's wise to go where the most sincerity lies. At least, that's my mantra for fulfillment in life.
Anyone who knows me knows this. Why do I love them so much? Why do I still cling to a hobby that many people perceive as something for children or for shut-ins? It doesn't garner me much popularity or recognition, I'll tell you that. Among many social communities, identifying yourself as someone who loves games - other than mainstream titles such as Call of Duty - is a surefire way to lose things. That respect you might have had? Ehhh, I'm not sure about this guy. That person who thought you were an alright guy? But, he's such a nerd, though.
People who take their hobbies a little too seriously aren't exactly the life of the party, and I try to avoid being one of these guys:
But let's face it. You play Dark Souls or Breath of Fire or Final Fantasy or Warcraft or talk about Dragon Ball Z or One Piece or Lord of the Rings or Marvel or Star Wars or Dungeons and Dragons or that roleplay you were involved in or Magic: The Gathering or Pokemon and you immediately become a nerd.
I love being a nerd, and involving myself in nerd communities, partially because it's stigmatized.
The people who are involved in "nerd culture" are involved out of a very genuine interest in it. So much so that they are often willing to pursue it in lieu of losing social standing. They honestly love what they are talking about, they love getting lost in these books and movies and games that are fantastical and whimsical and out there and fun. They resonate with the characters that they love, they feel a sense of fulfillment from being involved in these worlds, or maybe they enjoy the action and set pieces. Lord knows that Dragon Ball isn't exactly a Shakespearean play, but people find characters and stories in it that they love anyway. People don't become invested in nerd culture to become popular, well liked, or successful. It's the exact opposite of going out and buying a pair of Jordans or a designer bag or driving a Lamborghini. Nobody becomes or embraces being a nerd for status, power, comfort, or any other insincere reason. People are invested in the culture because they appreciate it for what it is. In that sense, being around and involved with "nerds" is an experience where you let go of your vanity and social desire and find an immense sense of freedom and sincerity.
I've been in all kinds of social groups. I don't only identify as a "nerd". But out of all the people I've been around, these groups of people that genuinely love what they do and what they buy and what they talk about have always felt the most "real". Of course, there are bad seeds in any group, and I find a lot of so-called nerds to be truly terrible people, as there are inevitably bound to be. But when you find a good group of people, they're really fun - and liberating - to hang out with.
I won't lie. Being accepted feels good. I like being able to name drop a popular movie or television show or news story and have people know what I'm talking about and involve themselves in the conversation. But there's not nearly as strong of a connection with mainstream media as there is with niche media, where people connect on a much deeper level because of its relative obscurity or stigmatization. You have to look and try harder to find these connections, which makes them mean a heck of a lot more.
There's a lot of negative stereotypes involved with nerddom, but the positives seem to outweigh the negatives. I choose to like nerdy things because I like the sincerity that can be found in their communities. It doesn't help my social networking at all, but it gives a sense of fulfillment that casual and mainstream interests do not. That said, these hobbies are a luxury. They're always the first thing to go when life gets too hectic or too busy, and there's plenty more important things in life, like relationships and work and other responsibilities. But if you have the time? They're great!
In another universe, I'm blogging about sports teams for the same reason. I'm a sports atheist, because I grew up physically inept. But they know their stuff, too. Watching people argue about this or that player or stats or what team is doing what makes me feel like they're truly invested in what they're talking about, just like nerds. Sports culture is a little too abrasive for me, but I can totally understand it. As I've gotten older, purely intellectual pursuits have given me a similar sense of fulfillment. I love hanging out with English nerds, for example.
Long story short - it's wise to go where the most sincerity lies. At least, that's my mantra for fulfillment in life.
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Oh No
 |
| I didn't make this. It's from Penny Arcade. |
When you find yourself creatively bankrupt, steal someone else's work.
(Do not actually ever do this)
Funny story: my great uncle was a professional con artist. I mean that in the most literal sense - he was both a professional conman and a professional artist. He was a very talented man, but for some reason he would always use other people's work as a base and add his own paintings to it. The weirdest example of this that he ever did was a painting of me in my childhood, wearing a blue button down shirt and taking care of a cow. If that sounds totally random to you, then you are not alone. First of all, I never wore fancy shirts if I could help it, and second of all, I actually hated cows as a kid for whatever reason. Even without taking this into account, the premise of the painting is strange. The reason for this? It wasn't originally a painting of me. We suspect that it was the unfinished painting of an old man, because the body is slightly disproportionate to the head and the hands have wrinkles that look like they belong on an older person. So, in essence, my uncle painted my head onto the body of an old farmer. For some reason. It looks very professional and well done, so he clearly put effort into it, but it's still really bizarre... on many levels.
There it is. Tell me that isn't super weird.
Saturday, June 6, 2015
Through the Looking Glass
The concept of growing up has been portrayed countless times in fiction. It's always a curiously painful experience, but rarely is it painted in at outright negative light. Peter Pan argued that growing up was lame, and had a land of eternal youth to prove how great childhood is, but the children from that movie still chose to grow up and leave their childhood behind, despite the joys of youth and the loss of these joys as one turns into an adult.
Two experiences in games, games that I played at the dawn of my adolescence, have portrayed the concept of coming into adulthood quite well, perhaps unintentionally.
Warning: there are spoilers for the games that follow, if you care about that sort of thing.
Example one:
Final Fantasy X begins in the city of Zanarkand, a magnificent metropolis with advanced technology seemingly powered by water. The main character, Tidus, is a celebrity in this society, a superstar athlete who plays the fictional sport of Blitzball. He's the son of another famous athlete, and his troubles are the epitome of first world problems - he has a legacy to live up, his father was famous and neglected him as a child, and he's an adult that misses his deceased mother - but overall, he has it made. He is wealthy, famous, and beloved.
This all changes when a monster known as Sin attacks the city, swallowing Tidus and spitting him out in a foreign land. The land is known as Spira, a place that Tidus has never heard of. The most bizarre aspect of being flung into Spira is that in this world, Zanarkand is a city everyone knows as a society that was destroyed a thousand years ago. Determined to return home, one thing leads to another and he eventually ends up joining a summoner on their pilgrimage to Zanarkand, wanting to discover the mystery behind its supposed destruction and his appearance on Spira. Along the way, he is constantly learning about the land of Spira, its customs, its history, and the people who live there. He is very much ignorant of the world, especially of the hard lives that people face, and has to have others guide him almost every step of the way. He eventually does reach Zanarkand, and it is, indeed, a city in ruins.
The Zanarkand he knew never existed. Along the way, he discovers the truth behind the city he grew up in and the reality that he thought he knew; his Zanarkand was known as Dream Zanarkand, a complicated illusion physically manifested by the dreams of the souls of those who lived in the real Zanarkand. It was an idealized version of the city in its prime, with even its inhabitants being complex dreams given physical form. Tidus realizes that he will never return home, because the home he remembers was never real. He is left with the ruined Zanarkand, the world he was placed in against his will, and he has to find a way to accept that this is his new reality.
Example two:
In Kingdom Hearts II, Roxas is a boy who lives in a place called Twilight Town. He's a normal kid that has a group of friends that he regularly hangs out with. He attends school, enjoys his summer vacations, has hobbies that he likes, places he likes to go, and people that he loves. He is, for all intents and purposes, the very definition of normal. This all changes when monsters in white begin to show up in Twilight Town, followed by the appearance of mysterious hooded figures that only he can see and a man who claims to know Roxas, despite having never met him before.
In a twist reminiscent of the major plot revelation of The Matrix, Roxas eventually discovers that he is living in a fake Twilight Town, a digital replication of the real thing. His life was fabricated; everything he knew exists, but in a different form, in the real Twilight Town, without him. Roxas' memory was altered, his past life erased, and he was given the life he always wanted. In reality, Roxas was being used by a group of criminals, and spent his days working for them. His real identity, and his real past, are anything but what he thought they were, and far from what he wanted or expected from life.
This particular metaphor has another layer to it. Without delving into the overly complex story of Kingdom Hearts, the basic gist of it is that Roxas himself was born from a different character's heart. He doesn't actually exist, instead being the shadow of another person. A large part of the message of the series, at least surrounding the segments concerning Roxas, is finding a sense of identity and coming to terms with reality and who you are. Eventually, Roxas accepts the truth, and merges with his "real" self, returning to the person he was originally supposed to be.
So, what does any of this have to do with childhood or growing up? Everything. Leaving childhood is a lot like entering into an entirely new world, with its own rules and values, much like the new realities that Tidus and Roxas must deal with in the worlds that they are thrown into. The scariest part of adulthood is looking back on the world that you thought existed, and realizing that this "new" world - the world of adulthood - was, in fact, the "real" world the entire time, with your childhood world existing as an illusion born out of lack of knowledge and childhood perception. You're left with the reality that you now exist in, despite never asking to be there, and you must find a way to cope with and accept this reality.
Playing these games in my early adolescence, the theme of accepting reality resonated very strongly with me. In our lives, we are thrown into our own version of Spira. Sometimes, we even return to where we came from, only to find it unrecognizable, or at least very different from what our childhood selves remember. It's a painful farewell, saying goodbye to our childhood world, but accepting the new world in which we live can be a very fulfilling experience. We learn so much in the world of our adulthood, and we meet so many people and form so many bonds that we could not have done had we remained in our childhood world.
Growing up is a sad and painful journey, but it's also a beautiful and enlightening one.
Two experiences in games, games that I played at the dawn of my adolescence, have portrayed the concept of coming into adulthood quite well, perhaps unintentionally.
Warning: there are spoilers for the games that follow, if you care about that sort of thing.
Example one:
 |
| Zanarkand, as Tidus knew it. |
Final Fantasy X begins in the city of Zanarkand, a magnificent metropolis with advanced technology seemingly powered by water. The main character, Tidus, is a celebrity in this society, a superstar athlete who plays the fictional sport of Blitzball. He's the son of another famous athlete, and his troubles are the epitome of first world problems - he has a legacy to live up, his father was famous and neglected him as a child, and he's an adult that misses his deceased mother - but overall, he has it made. He is wealthy, famous, and beloved.
This all changes when a monster known as Sin attacks the city, swallowing Tidus and spitting him out in a foreign land. The land is known as Spira, a place that Tidus has never heard of. The most bizarre aspect of being flung into Spira is that in this world, Zanarkand is a city everyone knows as a society that was destroyed a thousand years ago. Determined to return home, one thing leads to another and he eventually ends up joining a summoner on their pilgrimage to Zanarkand, wanting to discover the mystery behind its supposed destruction and his appearance on Spira. Along the way, he is constantly learning about the land of Spira, its customs, its history, and the people who live there. He is very much ignorant of the world, especially of the hard lives that people face, and has to have others guide him almost every step of the way. He eventually does reach Zanarkand, and it is, indeed, a city in ruins.
 |
| The ruins of Zanarkand. |
The Zanarkand he knew never existed. Along the way, he discovers the truth behind the city he grew up in and the reality that he thought he knew; his Zanarkand was known as Dream Zanarkand, a complicated illusion physically manifested by the dreams of the souls of those who lived in the real Zanarkand. It was an idealized version of the city in its prime, with even its inhabitants being complex dreams given physical form. Tidus realizes that he will never return home, because the home he remembers was never real. He is left with the ruined Zanarkand, the world he was placed in against his will, and he has to find a way to accept that this is his new reality.
Example two:
 |
| Roxas, during his life in Twilight Town. |
In Kingdom Hearts II, Roxas is a boy who lives in a place called Twilight Town. He's a normal kid that has a group of friends that he regularly hangs out with. He attends school, enjoys his summer vacations, has hobbies that he likes, places he likes to go, and people that he loves. He is, for all intents and purposes, the very definition of normal. This all changes when monsters in white begin to show up in Twilight Town, followed by the appearance of mysterious hooded figures that only he can see and a man who claims to know Roxas, despite having never met him before.
In a twist reminiscent of the major plot revelation of The Matrix, Roxas eventually discovers that he is living in a fake Twilight Town, a digital replication of the real thing. His life was fabricated; everything he knew exists, but in a different form, in the real Twilight Town, without him. Roxas' memory was altered, his past life erased, and he was given the life he always wanted. In reality, Roxas was being used by a group of criminals, and spent his days working for them. His real identity, and his real past, are anything but what he thought they were, and far from what he wanted or expected from life.
 |
| A glimpse of Roxas's dark past, where he struggles to find his identity. |
This particular metaphor has another layer to it. Without delving into the overly complex story of Kingdom Hearts, the basic gist of it is that Roxas himself was born from a different character's heart. He doesn't actually exist, instead being the shadow of another person. A large part of the message of the series, at least surrounding the segments concerning Roxas, is finding a sense of identity and coming to terms with reality and who you are. Eventually, Roxas accepts the truth, and merges with his "real" self, returning to the person he was originally supposed to be.
So, what does any of this have to do with childhood or growing up? Everything. Leaving childhood is a lot like entering into an entirely new world, with its own rules and values, much like the new realities that Tidus and Roxas must deal with in the worlds that they are thrown into. The scariest part of adulthood is looking back on the world that you thought existed, and realizing that this "new" world - the world of adulthood - was, in fact, the "real" world the entire time, with your childhood world existing as an illusion born out of lack of knowledge and childhood perception. You're left with the reality that you now exist in, despite never asking to be there, and you must find a way to cope with and accept this reality.
Playing these games in my early adolescence, the theme of accepting reality resonated very strongly with me. In our lives, we are thrown into our own version of Spira. Sometimes, we even return to where we came from, only to find it unrecognizable, or at least very different from what our childhood selves remember. It's a painful farewell, saying goodbye to our childhood world, but accepting the new world in which we live can be a very fulfilling experience. We learn so much in the world of our adulthood, and we meet so many people and form so many bonds that we could not have done had we remained in our childhood world.
Growing up is a sad and painful journey, but it's also a beautiful and enlightening one.
Friday, June 5, 2015
Thursday, June 4, 2015
Imperfect Reflection
Writing is hard.
No, really. I'm sure every artist struggles with this, but translating what's in your head to whatever form of expression you're using at the time is a huge battle. Mostly because whatever you can conjure in your head seems pristine and relatively flawless. Once it begins to make that transition, and you realize that the diamond must be cut, the disparity between idea and reality can be disheartening. I'm sure this is a good part of the reason that you see so many people say they're going to work on their art, or write a novel, or write a script, or whatever, and then never commit to that statement. I bet famous artists and writers often weren't satisfied with what they produced, either, which makes me wonder what must have been floating around in their heads.
I've had a lot more fun laying out the background of a world and characters than I have actually writing a story. George Lucas also said he was better at coming up with concepts than writing a story. That doesn't bode very well for what I'm doing.
Practice makes perfect, but practice is hard to keep up with. Gotta keep your eye on the finish line, I suppose.
No, really. I'm sure every artist struggles with this, but translating what's in your head to whatever form of expression you're using at the time is a huge battle. Mostly because whatever you can conjure in your head seems pristine and relatively flawless. Once it begins to make that transition, and you realize that the diamond must be cut, the disparity between idea and reality can be disheartening. I'm sure this is a good part of the reason that you see so many people say they're going to work on their art, or write a novel, or write a script, or whatever, and then never commit to that statement. I bet famous artists and writers often weren't satisfied with what they produced, either, which makes me wonder what must have been floating around in their heads.
I've had a lot more fun laying out the background of a world and characters than I have actually writing a story. George Lucas also said he was better at coming up with concepts than writing a story. That doesn't bode very well for what I'm doing.
Practice makes perfect, but practice is hard to keep up with. Gotta keep your eye on the finish line, I suppose.
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
You Gotta Believe
Motivational stuff is great. Life is worth living, risks are worth taking, love is important, yeah, alright. That all sounds great on paper, and it's sweet and all, but you can't say these things without taking into account one very basic life hurdle.
Failure hurts.
There's nothing else quite like the sting of failure. Not meeting the expectations of those around you. Trying to develop a talent and receiving nothing but criticism. Talking to others and hitting all sorts of awkward notes, leading to unpleasant social experiences. Being rejected from a job. Being rejected by someone you like. Not doing well in school. Getting fired. Your friends cutting ties with you. People saying bad things about you. Your friends living seemingly successful, fruitful lives while yours is dull and boring by comparison. It doesn't matter what kind of failure it is. There's different levels of it, but it always, always hurts. Strong people persevere and move on. People who aren't as strong falter. Those of weak emotional constitution crumble. The amount of failure people can take varies, and the way people react to it also depends on the person.
I've talked about intrinsic worth already, but that alone isn't enough to remedy the wounds that failure leave on a person. When you feel the pangs of failure, you aren't thinking of your worth to others, the greater meaning of life, or what life will be like when and if you recover. You're thinking that life sucks right now. That's all that's on your mind. At the moment of failure, that's all that there is. So how does one soldier through the pain? What does a person make of that terrible, awful stinging feeling?
My answer is twofold; faith and hope. Faith that you're better than your failures, and hope that things will improve. It's very easy to allow failure to shatter your perception of self. It's very easy to let it get you down. It can destroy you. But even the weakest person can cling to hope, and even the weakest person can have faith.
Believe that you're worth something. Think of all the people you mean something to. Let's get extreme for a second: if you died, who would it affect? If people knew the extent of your unhappiness, how would it make them feel? If people knew that you were ready to give up, what would they think of you? Do you want them to hurt, too, because of you? Face your pain, and think about how you help others face their own. Endure it to see the good things in life again. Even if it looks like they may never come, or if things may never be the same, I can guarantee good things will come your way again.
Pain never lasts forever. It's something you need to constantly remind yourself of.
Failure hurts.
There's nothing else quite like the sting of failure. Not meeting the expectations of those around you. Trying to develop a talent and receiving nothing but criticism. Talking to others and hitting all sorts of awkward notes, leading to unpleasant social experiences. Being rejected from a job. Being rejected by someone you like. Not doing well in school. Getting fired. Your friends cutting ties with you. People saying bad things about you. Your friends living seemingly successful, fruitful lives while yours is dull and boring by comparison. It doesn't matter what kind of failure it is. There's different levels of it, but it always, always hurts. Strong people persevere and move on. People who aren't as strong falter. Those of weak emotional constitution crumble. The amount of failure people can take varies, and the way people react to it also depends on the person.
I've talked about intrinsic worth already, but that alone isn't enough to remedy the wounds that failure leave on a person. When you feel the pangs of failure, you aren't thinking of your worth to others, the greater meaning of life, or what life will be like when and if you recover. You're thinking that life sucks right now. That's all that's on your mind. At the moment of failure, that's all that there is. So how does one soldier through the pain? What does a person make of that terrible, awful stinging feeling?
My answer is twofold; faith and hope. Faith that you're better than your failures, and hope that things will improve. It's very easy to allow failure to shatter your perception of self. It's very easy to let it get you down. It can destroy you. But even the weakest person can cling to hope, and even the weakest person can have faith.
Believe that you're worth something. Think of all the people you mean something to. Let's get extreme for a second: if you died, who would it affect? If people knew the extent of your unhappiness, how would it make them feel? If people knew that you were ready to give up, what would they think of you? Do you want them to hurt, too, because of you? Face your pain, and think about how you help others face their own. Endure it to see the good things in life again. Even if it looks like they may never come, or if things may never be the same, I can guarantee good things will come your way again.
Pain never lasts forever. It's something you need to constantly remind yourself of.
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Onward, Through the Abyss
Why bother?
I find myself asking this question all the time. Why bother trying to be nice when it goes unappreciated? Why go out of your way to contribute something meaningful when the effort goes unnoticed? Why spend your time writing when nobody looks at what you write? Why try to be funny if nobody laughs at your jokes? Why bother even getting out of bed in the morning if you know you're just going to face problems, responsibilities, and people you'd rather never encounter again in your life?
It's tough to find motivation to go forward in life. It's even harder to find motivation to make the most of your life. Sometimes it's even hard to survive in life. When you look at the now, the immediate risk and reward, the better answer is often, "why bother?"
Sit back. Think. Imagine you're on your deathbed.
Whoa, that got morbid. Stay with me, though, I promise that this is going somewhere positive.
Imagine that you're on your deathbed. Your life is flashing before your eyes. You see all the things you did, all the things you didn't do, all the things you did well, all the things you could have done better, all the things that brought you joy, all the things that brought you sorrow, all the things that brought others joy, and all the things that brought others sorrow.
How much regret do you feel?
When you realize that there is no "now" - that we live trapped in a temporal existence, and that our life will end one day - you can see the need to go forward in life. Every human being wants to leave behind a legacy, a magnum opus, a trace of their existence, a message to the world that they were here, that they did something, and that it made a difference. You can't see that, or understand that, if you only look through the window of the present.
Something people seem to realize even less is that the little things leave traces of our existence, too. The Butterfly Effect. You make a difference just by talking to a friend, and laughing with them. You make a difference by being nice to a stranger, even if it's something as small as holding a door open for them. Will you meet the asshole who doesn't appreciate you holding open that door? Yeah, several times. But for every asshole, there's someone who really does appreciate your act of kindness. One time I baked muffins for my class on the last day, when we took our final. Someone laughed and said under their breath that it was weird and that I was weird for doing so. Guess what, lady? My professor said they were pretty good!
And what of the transient things? The games we play, the music we listen to, the food we eat? Although it's a huge piece of the puzzle, not everything is about leaving behind a legacy. Sometimes the smaller, seemingly inconsequential things that we enjoy - the moments that come and go in the blink of an eye - are also worth living for. They come interspersed with the bad moments, but they're definitely there. Sometimes the small and simple things can make your day. In the grand scheme of things, they may not last, but they're experiences definitely worth having. Not the reason for living, but worth appreciating, at least.
The tears we shed, the pain we endure, and the struggles we encounter day by day are hard to take, sometimes. Why bother facing them?
Because it's worth it.
You'll realize it at the end.
I find myself asking this question all the time. Why bother trying to be nice when it goes unappreciated? Why go out of your way to contribute something meaningful when the effort goes unnoticed? Why spend your time writing when nobody looks at what you write? Why try to be funny if nobody laughs at your jokes? Why bother even getting out of bed in the morning if you know you're just going to face problems, responsibilities, and people you'd rather never encounter again in your life?
It's tough to find motivation to go forward in life. It's even harder to find motivation to make the most of your life. Sometimes it's even hard to survive in life. When you look at the now, the immediate risk and reward, the better answer is often, "why bother?"
Sit back. Think. Imagine you're on your deathbed.
Whoa, that got morbid. Stay with me, though, I promise that this is going somewhere positive.
Imagine that you're on your deathbed. Your life is flashing before your eyes. You see all the things you did, all the things you didn't do, all the things you did well, all the things you could have done better, all the things that brought you joy, all the things that brought you sorrow, all the things that brought others joy, and all the things that brought others sorrow.
How much regret do you feel?
When you realize that there is no "now" - that we live trapped in a temporal existence, and that our life will end one day - you can see the need to go forward in life. Every human being wants to leave behind a legacy, a magnum opus, a trace of their existence, a message to the world that they were here, that they did something, and that it made a difference. You can't see that, or understand that, if you only look through the window of the present.
Something people seem to realize even less is that the little things leave traces of our existence, too. The Butterfly Effect. You make a difference just by talking to a friend, and laughing with them. You make a difference by being nice to a stranger, even if it's something as small as holding a door open for them. Will you meet the asshole who doesn't appreciate you holding open that door? Yeah, several times. But for every asshole, there's someone who really does appreciate your act of kindness. One time I baked muffins for my class on the last day, when we took our final. Someone laughed and said under their breath that it was weird and that I was weird for doing so. Guess what, lady? My professor said they were pretty good!
And what of the transient things? The games we play, the music we listen to, the food we eat? Although it's a huge piece of the puzzle, not everything is about leaving behind a legacy. Sometimes the smaller, seemingly inconsequential things that we enjoy - the moments that come and go in the blink of an eye - are also worth living for. They come interspersed with the bad moments, but they're definitely there. Sometimes the small and simple things can make your day. In the grand scheme of things, they may not last, but they're experiences definitely worth having. Not the reason for living, but worth appreciating, at least.
The tears we shed, the pain we endure, and the struggles we encounter day by day are hard to take, sometimes. Why bother facing them?
Because it's worth it.
You'll realize it at the end.
Monday, June 1, 2015
Pyroxene
What in the world is that weird title about? Pyroxene? What does that even mean?
Flashback. I'm in grade school. I had just moved to Connecticut - I had no friends or established cliques to hang out with. One day, I notice a kid sitting at a lunch table by himself. I ask the kids I'm sitting with why nobody is sitting with him. "He's weird", one kid told me. Another kid chimed in. "Yeah, he has no friends." Even at eight years old, I found this mean spirited and callous. So I decided to sit with him.
He became my best friend. Often to my detriment. I became known as "that kid who hangs out with *loner kid*."
This kid was a huge fan of video games. Not just any video games, either - he liked Final Fantasy, Dragon Quest, Star Ocean. Even if you know absolutely nothing about games, you can tell from the titles that those games are way off the deep end of the nerd spectrum. At first, I was apprehensive about being around him. The stuff he liked was weird. He wasn't playing normal games, into sports, or into playing outdoors like my other friends. He was introverted, he was shy, and he was sensitive. Looking back, it's not really a wonder that he was bullied and ostracized.
He used to play these games that were very heavy on plot and text. They required a lot of your time and attention. So, much of our time was spent playing games. We would rent a game - because that's what kids did back then - and we would talk about it at school the next day, kind of similar to how people at book clubs read books and then come back together and talk about them. We'd make predictions about where the story would go next, talk about what we did at certain points in the game, argue over what the best way to go about things was, discuss our favorite characters. This friendship lasted all throughout grade school.
One of the first games he introduced me to was Star Ocean: The Second Story. I remember him telling me about a dungeon he was at - The Hoffman Ruins. The way he described it made it sound really cool. Underground mine, tough enemies, the story starts to get interesting, etc. Things that sound cool to an eight year old. I rented the game and finally made my way there, and it did end up being a really enjoyable segment of the game. This is the moment that cemented my friendship with this kid, and made me realize that he wasn't weird - nobody took the time to understand him or really listen to what he was talking about. The music that plays in this section is called Pyroxene. It's a beautiful, somber, mysterious melody. It doesn't come across as well on its own, and it's definitely held back by early game console synth, and it starts off with an odd sound, but when you're listening to it in game, and the music picks up past its intro, it really adds to the mystery and exploration of that particular part of the game.
I would come back and replay the game later, for nostalgia. I realized something odd while playing through The Hoffman Ruins segment again.
It's full of Catholic imagery. Totally out of place in this niche Japanese game.
The following two biblical passages came to mind after seeing this:
Is. 58:10. "And if you give yourself to the hungry, and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then your light will rise in darkness, and your gloom will become like midday. And the LORD will continually guide you, and satisfy your desire in scorched places, and give strength to your bones; and you will be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water whose waters do not fail."
Luke 12:44. "Sell your possessions and give alms; make yourselves purses which do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near, nor moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."
Am I reading into it too much? Maybe. Calling this kid afflicted is a bit of a dramatization, and I didn't sell anything but my chance at hanging out with normal kids. But damn if seeing that there did not have an effect on me.
Two major lifelong lessons I took from this experience, two unfailing treasures that I'll always carry with me:
Lesson #1: Don't judge a book by its cover. Both this kid and his interests ended up being something I initially thought were weird and abnormal, but ended up creating one of the best friendships I've ever had and introducing me to a hobby I enjoyed long after our friendship had ended.
Lesson #2: Helping others when they're downtrodden feels amazing, and you never sacrifice anything by doing so because you receive something so much better in return. I would have rather hung out with more normal kids. I was apprehensive at first. Once the ice had been broken, however, he became a legitimate friend. I at first thought I was doing him a favor, but it turns out that he "helped" me as much as I "helped" him.
Why did I name my blog after a track name in a video game? I did so as an ode to the most important life lessons that I ever learned. Convoluted reason, maybe. But it carries with it an intense personal meaning.
Apparently pyroxene is a type of mineral, so now my blog is named after a rock. The meaning is in the interpretation, though, so, whatever. It sounds cool, too.
Flashback. I'm in grade school. I had just moved to Connecticut - I had no friends or established cliques to hang out with. One day, I notice a kid sitting at a lunch table by himself. I ask the kids I'm sitting with why nobody is sitting with him. "He's weird", one kid told me. Another kid chimed in. "Yeah, he has no friends." Even at eight years old, I found this mean spirited and callous. So I decided to sit with him.
He became my best friend. Often to my detriment. I became known as "that kid who hangs out with *loner kid*."
This kid was a huge fan of video games. Not just any video games, either - he liked Final Fantasy, Dragon Quest, Star Ocean. Even if you know absolutely nothing about games, you can tell from the titles that those games are way off the deep end of the nerd spectrum. At first, I was apprehensive about being around him. The stuff he liked was weird. He wasn't playing normal games, into sports, or into playing outdoors like my other friends. He was introverted, he was shy, and he was sensitive. Looking back, it's not really a wonder that he was bullied and ostracized.
He used to play these games that were very heavy on plot and text. They required a lot of your time and attention. So, much of our time was spent playing games. We would rent a game - because that's what kids did back then - and we would talk about it at school the next day, kind of similar to how people at book clubs read books and then come back together and talk about them. We'd make predictions about where the story would go next, talk about what we did at certain points in the game, argue over what the best way to go about things was, discuss our favorite characters. This friendship lasted all throughout grade school.
One of the first games he introduced me to was Star Ocean: The Second Story. I remember him telling me about a dungeon he was at - The Hoffman Ruins. The way he described it made it sound really cool. Underground mine, tough enemies, the story starts to get interesting, etc. Things that sound cool to an eight year old. I rented the game and finally made my way there, and it did end up being a really enjoyable segment of the game. This is the moment that cemented my friendship with this kid, and made me realize that he wasn't weird - nobody took the time to understand him or really listen to what he was talking about. The music that plays in this section is called Pyroxene. It's a beautiful, somber, mysterious melody. It doesn't come across as well on its own, and it's definitely held back by early game console synth, and it starts off with an odd sound, but when you're listening to it in game, and the music picks up past its intro, it really adds to the mystery and exploration of that particular part of the game.
I would come back and replay the game later, for nostalgia. I realized something odd while playing through The Hoffman Ruins segment again.
It's full of Catholic imagery. Totally out of place in this niche Japanese game.
The following two biblical passages came to mind after seeing this:
Is. 58:10. "And if you give yourself to the hungry, and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then your light will rise in darkness, and your gloom will become like midday. And the LORD will continually guide you, and satisfy your desire in scorched places, and give strength to your bones; and you will be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water whose waters do not fail."
Luke 12:44. "Sell your possessions and give alms; make yourselves purses which do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near, nor moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."
Am I reading into it too much? Maybe. Calling this kid afflicted is a bit of a dramatization, and I didn't sell anything but my chance at hanging out with normal kids. But damn if seeing that there did not have an effect on me.
Two major lifelong lessons I took from this experience, two unfailing treasures that I'll always carry with me:
Lesson #1: Don't judge a book by its cover. Both this kid and his interests ended up being something I initially thought were weird and abnormal, but ended up creating one of the best friendships I've ever had and introducing me to a hobby I enjoyed long after our friendship had ended.
Lesson #2: Helping others when they're downtrodden feels amazing, and you never sacrifice anything by doing so because you receive something so much better in return. I would have rather hung out with more normal kids. I was apprehensive at first. Once the ice had been broken, however, he became a legitimate friend. I at first thought I was doing him a favor, but it turns out that he "helped" me as much as I "helped" him.
Why did I name my blog after a track name in a video game? I did so as an ode to the most important life lessons that I ever learned. Convoluted reason, maybe. But it carries with it an intense personal meaning.
Apparently pyroxene is a type of mineral, so now my blog is named after a rock. The meaning is in the interpretation, though, so, whatever. It sounds cool, too.
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Semantics
I used to talk openly about God and my faith, all the time.
In a secular world, particularly in America, this is a big no. You quickly alienate people and receive judgement from others and become labeled as superstitious and ignorant. This is, of course, excluding others who believe as you do. Even then, if you're militant about it, the American pioneer mentality - pave your own way in life, and let others take care of their own - mostly rejects the open discussion of faith among others, including friends.
To me, God is love. This is the first and foremost aspect of Christianity that I follow. Some people take issue with that. Some people wonder how God could possibly be love in a world like this, and become angry or indignant. Some people want it to be true, but can't bring themselves to believe. Some people believe that love is the most important thing in the world, but refuse to give that label to God because of their views on organized religion. Some people can't bring themselves to believe in a higher power because of what we've learned as a society about the world and the way it works, and the laws that govern it. I am talking, of course, about science.
I realized that talking about God does not resonate with very many people, and in most cases, pushes them away. What I wanted to do was spread the "good word" - that love is the most important thing in life. To many, God is a label that is far from synonymous with love. It is a label that brings to mind crusades, corrupt church officials, bigotry, persecution, conflict, and, in the worst cases, death. Many people I know who once believed or wanted to believe in God have since married the word with negativity.
God has become a taboo word. Jesus Christ is a swear. Go ahead, say it in public - I dare you. "Jesus Christ!" *Gasp* "Watch your language!"
There's about two thousand years of history getting in the way and clouding the truth of one very basic thing: God and Love are one in the same.
So I decided to stop talking about God.
I decided to start talking about Love instead.
Love is such a universal concept that it's impossible not to revere it. It's all powerful, all consuming, brilliant, warm, inviting, and worth fighting and dying for. Anyone who has ever loved someone can attest to this. There are things in this world that take the concept of love from us. Anyone who has ever experienced suffering - persecution, loneliness, failure, death - knows how important the need for love to fill a person's life is. Without it, life ceases to be life. It becomes painful, empty, and meaningless. Even people who have never known what it is like to love someone else can most likely admit to the fact that they have wanted to - dearly and desperately. Love is what we are designed for, what we live for, what we constantly seek and desire to cultivate amongst ourselves and others.
Love is life. Life is love.
It's the only thing worth existing for.
In a secular world, particularly in America, this is a big no. You quickly alienate people and receive judgement from others and become labeled as superstitious and ignorant. This is, of course, excluding others who believe as you do. Even then, if you're militant about it, the American pioneer mentality - pave your own way in life, and let others take care of their own - mostly rejects the open discussion of faith among others, including friends.
To me, God is love. This is the first and foremost aspect of Christianity that I follow. Some people take issue with that. Some people wonder how God could possibly be love in a world like this, and become angry or indignant. Some people want it to be true, but can't bring themselves to believe. Some people believe that love is the most important thing in the world, but refuse to give that label to God because of their views on organized religion. Some people can't bring themselves to believe in a higher power because of what we've learned as a society about the world and the way it works, and the laws that govern it. I am talking, of course, about science.
I realized that talking about God does not resonate with very many people, and in most cases, pushes them away. What I wanted to do was spread the "good word" - that love is the most important thing in life. To many, God is a label that is far from synonymous with love. It is a label that brings to mind crusades, corrupt church officials, bigotry, persecution, conflict, and, in the worst cases, death. Many people I know who once believed or wanted to believe in God have since married the word with negativity.
God has become a taboo word. Jesus Christ is a swear. Go ahead, say it in public - I dare you. "Jesus Christ!" *Gasp* "Watch your language!"
There's about two thousand years of history getting in the way and clouding the truth of one very basic thing: God and Love are one in the same.
So I decided to stop talking about God.
I decided to start talking about Love instead.
Love is such a universal concept that it's impossible not to revere it. It's all powerful, all consuming, brilliant, warm, inviting, and worth fighting and dying for. Anyone who has ever loved someone can attest to this. There are things in this world that take the concept of love from us. Anyone who has ever experienced suffering - persecution, loneliness, failure, death - knows how important the need for love to fill a person's life is. Without it, life ceases to be life. It becomes painful, empty, and meaningless. Even people who have never known what it is like to love someone else can most likely admit to the fact that they have wanted to - dearly and desperately. Love is what we are designed for, what we live for, what we constantly seek and desire to cultivate amongst ourselves and others.
Love is life. Life is love.
It's the only thing worth existing for.
Saturday, May 30, 2015
Did He Really Just Say That
One of the most awkward feelings in the world is having a joke fall flat.
It's even worse if you think you're on a roll.
Joke #1: Laughter
Joke #2: More laughter
Joke #3:
Dave Chappelle optional.
When you use humor, you're really putting yourself out there. Some people get it, some people don't. Sometimes you're genuinely not funny at all. It happens. It's a lot like telling a personal story, or talking about your feelings, or even expressing your political or religious views in public. It really exposes your heart. It gets down to the core of who you are. And if that doesn't resonate with people, you know almost right away.
So, there's two options, knowing that you will inevitably fail:
Option #1: Clam up, don't speak unless you are in a comfortable environment.
Option #2: Put yourself out there anyway, despite your inevitable failure.
One of these options is for cowards. The other is harder to choose, but definitely the better of the two. If you hit the right note with someone, it's one of the best feelings in the world. Absolutely worth risking an awkward moment or two. Or six.
It's even worse if you think you're on a roll.
Joke #1: Laughter
Joke #2: More laughter
Joke #3:
Dave Chappelle optional.
When you use humor, you're really putting yourself out there. Some people get it, some people don't. Sometimes you're genuinely not funny at all. It happens. It's a lot like telling a personal story, or talking about your feelings, or even expressing your political or religious views in public. It really exposes your heart. It gets down to the core of who you are. And if that doesn't resonate with people, you know almost right away.
So, there's two options, knowing that you will inevitably fail:
Option #1: Clam up, don't speak unless you are in a comfortable environment.
Option #2: Put yourself out there anyway, despite your inevitable failure.
One of these options is for cowards. The other is harder to choose, but definitely the better of the two. If you hit the right note with someone, it's one of the best feelings in the world. Absolutely worth risking an awkward moment or two. Or six.
Friday, May 29, 2015
Shell and Soul
I've always found the difference in the way people treat you depending on your status and appearance to be one of the most jarring experiences life has to throw at you.
When you are a child, people treat you gently. People are willing to protect you. People will comfort you if you are sad, and many things that you do are considered cute or quirky. When you are a teenager, people expect you to have a certain level of autonomy, but overall, not much is expected of you. You're expected to screw up. You're expected to have fun. When you are a college student, people treat you very well. People tend to give college students a lot of leeway and freedom when it comes to how they act. I recall two instances - in college - where I screwed up big time and was instantly forgiven because of my status. I had just gotten my driver's license, and the GPS was acting up. It asked me to go left at the last second, almost right as I passed my exit, and I freaked out... and went left, crashing right into the side of another car. As the other driver got out of their car, they looked very angry. They saw me, and their anger subsided a bit. "I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed. They looked a bit confused. We talked about the crash for a bit. "So, where do you go to school?" She eventually asked me. The conversation ended on a good note and nobody had to pay for each other's damages.
Thanks for getting me out of that one, youth! That was totally avoidable and entirely my fault.
Second was when I was working at a gas station. This one was really weird. I was talking to my manager about my bad (read: lazy) performance. He was fuming. I told him I might have to quit soon anyway, to go back to school. Instantly, his face stopped contorting and he said, almost surprised, "oh, you go to school?" And he treated me nicely for the rest of the conversation.
I mean, I'll take it. But he had reason to be angry. I did not care at all about my job performance.
Later, I'd be at a doctor's appointment. I was still working a dead end job, but I was no longer in school. My knees were acting up - I guess I had to kneel a lot stocking shelves. He treated me like shit. He made snarky comments about how people in "my kind of occupation" frequently don't take care of their knees. He used a tone of voice that clearly indicated his judgement of my position in life. It was very unpleasant. Another less unpleasant but equally strange experience was when I went into a police station to file a report on stolen money (there's another story behind this). I was wearing my vest from work. Very first thing he asked me, "Are you here to represent *grocery store?*" What the heck? No. No, no I am not. Would he have asked that if I still looked like a teenager? Probably not!
When you're an adult, you become publicly tied to your occupation, whether you feel a connection to it or not. You're expected to be fully responsible. Things that are your fault are much less likely to be forgiven. Your grace period is over. If you show up late for work, you're going to hear about it. And let me tell you, transitioning from the golden throne of a student to the ordinary working adult is a rough transition. No more leeway. No more forgiveness. Of course, this isn't necessarily a bad thing. Being treated certain ways at certain times in your life helps you grow. Having more expected of you as you become older helps you hold yourself to a higher standard.
What's bizarre is that, internally, you feel the same, no matter what your age or occupation is. What other people see is very different from what you feel. Other people's perception of "you" depends largely on the shell presented to them, completely ignorant of the soul inside. And I'll be damned if being treated well doesn't feel right, and being treated with apprehension and expectation doesn't feel foreign.
It takes a lot to realize that your external appearance isn't "you." My very best friends have defective shells. One has cerebral palsy. The other is albino, and legally blind. Another is confined to a wheelchair. These people are always willing to look at the soul before the shell. People who have had an external appearance that has disagreed with them from the beginning are actually at a huge advantage. They realize very early on that the soul and the shell are two separate things, and which one is more important.
Just some food for thought.
When you are a child, people treat you gently. People are willing to protect you. People will comfort you if you are sad, and many things that you do are considered cute or quirky. When you are a teenager, people expect you to have a certain level of autonomy, but overall, not much is expected of you. You're expected to screw up. You're expected to have fun. When you are a college student, people treat you very well. People tend to give college students a lot of leeway and freedom when it comes to how they act. I recall two instances - in college - where I screwed up big time and was instantly forgiven because of my status. I had just gotten my driver's license, and the GPS was acting up. It asked me to go left at the last second, almost right as I passed my exit, and I freaked out... and went left, crashing right into the side of another car. As the other driver got out of their car, they looked very angry. They saw me, and their anger subsided a bit. "I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed. They looked a bit confused. We talked about the crash for a bit. "So, where do you go to school?" She eventually asked me. The conversation ended on a good note and nobody had to pay for each other's damages.
Thanks for getting me out of that one, youth! That was totally avoidable and entirely my fault.
Second was when I was working at a gas station. This one was really weird. I was talking to my manager about my bad (read: lazy) performance. He was fuming. I told him I might have to quit soon anyway, to go back to school. Instantly, his face stopped contorting and he said, almost surprised, "oh, you go to school?" And he treated me nicely for the rest of the conversation.
I mean, I'll take it. But he had reason to be angry. I did not care at all about my job performance.
Later, I'd be at a doctor's appointment. I was still working a dead end job, but I was no longer in school. My knees were acting up - I guess I had to kneel a lot stocking shelves. He treated me like shit. He made snarky comments about how people in "my kind of occupation" frequently don't take care of their knees. He used a tone of voice that clearly indicated his judgement of my position in life. It was very unpleasant. Another less unpleasant but equally strange experience was when I went into a police station to file a report on stolen money (there's another story behind this). I was wearing my vest from work. Very first thing he asked me, "Are you here to represent *grocery store?*" What the heck? No. No, no I am not. Would he have asked that if I still looked like a teenager? Probably not!
When you're an adult, you become publicly tied to your occupation, whether you feel a connection to it or not. You're expected to be fully responsible. Things that are your fault are much less likely to be forgiven. Your grace period is over. If you show up late for work, you're going to hear about it. And let me tell you, transitioning from the golden throne of a student to the ordinary working adult is a rough transition. No more leeway. No more forgiveness. Of course, this isn't necessarily a bad thing. Being treated certain ways at certain times in your life helps you grow. Having more expected of you as you become older helps you hold yourself to a higher standard.
What's bizarre is that, internally, you feel the same, no matter what your age or occupation is. What other people see is very different from what you feel. Other people's perception of "you" depends largely on the shell presented to them, completely ignorant of the soul inside. And I'll be damned if being treated well doesn't feel right, and being treated with apprehension and expectation doesn't feel foreign.
It takes a lot to realize that your external appearance isn't "you." My very best friends have defective shells. One has cerebral palsy. The other is albino, and legally blind. Another is confined to a wheelchair. These people are always willing to look at the soul before the shell. People who have had an external appearance that has disagreed with them from the beginning are actually at a huge advantage. They realize very early on that the soul and the shell are two separate things, and which one is more important.
Just some food for thought.
Thursday, May 28, 2015
Heart of the Storm
There's something about the misconceived villain that's fascinating.
Moriya (Last Blade) is a samurai who trained with his best friend, Kaede. When his master is murdered, Kaede returns to find Moriya standing over his lifeless corpse. Realizing that he's been framed, Moriya leaves without a word, allowing his lifelong friend to think that he's a murderer. He dedicates the rest of his life to finding the real killer, and avoiding confrontation with Kaede. Rather than defend himself, he took the fall to avoid conflict, and was fully willing to let himself be seen as a monster.
Itachi (Naruto) is seen as a villain for most of the series. He killed his entire clan, and his brother, Sasuke - the sole survivor - has dedicated his life to taking revenge. There's a flashback sequence where it shows Itachi murdering his clan, and his family. He tells Sasuke to hate him before leaving. He then joins a criminal organization. It's hard to take it any other way. However, we find out later in the series that his father, the head of the clan, was planning a Coup D'etat, and it would have likely ended up in many casualties on both sides. Rather than risk an all out war, Itachi sided with his village rather his clan, and undertook a secret mission to wipe out the clan during the night, while they slept. He was unable to kill his brother, who he loved, so he asked him to hate him - partially because of guilt, and partially to help Sasuke deal with what he had done. The reason he joined the organization is to keep tabs on them. He never defends himself, and we discover that he went to extreme lengths to hide the truth from everyone. Most of the world sees him as a monster, and he is described by the author as living in "Hell."
Both characters eventually reconcile with their loved ones, but there's something about the way that they so willingly jump into darkness, without showing even a hint of a desire to defend themselves, that is much more noble than any story of heroism or valor. The truest hero doesn't do it for the reward, or for themselves, but to protect others or a higher cause. Being seen as a villain was a side effect of how these people chose to follow goodness. Even while in darkness, both characters upheld their virtue.
The Last Blade and Naruto are a video game and a comic book, respectively. Hardly high brow fiction. Yet, both of these characters represent something admirable that can be translated over into life. If you are going to do good things, do them in secret. Don't let the world or anyone else know. Let nobody praise you for your actions. Let people curse you instead. By doing this, you can bring yourself closer to truth. You can do good to do good, not only when it gives no reward, but punishes you for doing so.
The best way to reach the essence of goodness is to reject rewards for your actions. The best way to reach the essence of goodness is to use your free will to reject evil while in its own domain. The best way to reach the essence of goodness is to pursue goodness even as the world hates you for it.
Of course, you'd have to be insane to say that the only way to be good is to be hated by everyone, and the above paragraphs are clearly romanticized. Choosing goodness despite adversity is something that can be done in reality, however. And it's one of the things most worth doing.
Moriya (Last Blade) is a samurai who trained with his best friend, Kaede. When his master is murdered, Kaede returns to find Moriya standing over his lifeless corpse. Realizing that he's been framed, Moriya leaves without a word, allowing his lifelong friend to think that he's a murderer. He dedicates the rest of his life to finding the real killer, and avoiding confrontation with Kaede. Rather than defend himself, he took the fall to avoid conflict, and was fully willing to let himself be seen as a monster.
Itachi (Naruto) is seen as a villain for most of the series. He killed his entire clan, and his brother, Sasuke - the sole survivor - has dedicated his life to taking revenge. There's a flashback sequence where it shows Itachi murdering his clan, and his family. He tells Sasuke to hate him before leaving. He then joins a criminal organization. It's hard to take it any other way. However, we find out later in the series that his father, the head of the clan, was planning a Coup D'etat, and it would have likely ended up in many casualties on both sides. Rather than risk an all out war, Itachi sided with his village rather his clan, and undertook a secret mission to wipe out the clan during the night, while they slept. He was unable to kill his brother, who he loved, so he asked him to hate him - partially because of guilt, and partially to help Sasuke deal with what he had done. The reason he joined the organization is to keep tabs on them. He never defends himself, and we discover that he went to extreme lengths to hide the truth from everyone. Most of the world sees him as a monster, and he is described by the author as living in "Hell."
Both characters eventually reconcile with their loved ones, but there's something about the way that they so willingly jump into darkness, without showing even a hint of a desire to defend themselves, that is much more noble than any story of heroism or valor. The truest hero doesn't do it for the reward, or for themselves, but to protect others or a higher cause. Being seen as a villain was a side effect of how these people chose to follow goodness. Even while in darkness, both characters upheld their virtue.
The Last Blade and Naruto are a video game and a comic book, respectively. Hardly high brow fiction. Yet, both of these characters represent something admirable that can be translated over into life. If you are going to do good things, do them in secret. Don't let the world or anyone else know. Let nobody praise you for your actions. Let people curse you instead. By doing this, you can bring yourself closer to truth. You can do good to do good, not only when it gives no reward, but punishes you for doing so.
The best way to reach the essence of goodness is to reject rewards for your actions. The best way to reach the essence of goodness is to use your free will to reject evil while in its own domain. The best way to reach the essence of goodness is to pursue goodness even as the world hates you for it.
Of course, you'd have to be insane to say that the only way to be good is to be hated by everyone, and the above paragraphs are clearly romanticized. Choosing goodness despite adversity is something that can be done in reality, however. And it's one of the things most worth doing.
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Well, that was odd
I had something to say about art and expression, but I had this very vivid dream, so I'll write about dreams instead. Dreams are kind of a return experience for me - I was on medication for a good portion of my life that prevented me from dreaming. Recently, they've been very vivid, and I remember them clearly long after I wake up. This one didn't feel "real" - it still felt very "dreamy" - but I remember it as clearly as I would a movie.
I was in school ("School", we were all mid 20's men) and I was in a computer lab. I goofed off for about ten minutes, and then I pulled up Youtube and started listening to techno. Some fat guy sat next to me, and I realized I might be bothering him, so I said "Is this bothering you? I'll turn it off if it is." He sounded apologetic and said "Yeah, I really hate techno. Sorry, I used to watch this show." This made total sense, I said ok, and turned it off. Next thing I know we're on a field trip. Everyone is taking snow mobiles down a snowy mountain to get to where we need to go. I see some tall African guy who I apparently knew in the dream - I even knew his name, which I don't remember now, but it was like, Aheswala or something similar - who I was cool with. We weren't friends, but we knew each other and were nice acquaintances. Instead of the snow mobiles, he was sitting on a ferry that was going down a tropical river instead. I thought he looked relaxed, and sat next to him. As the boat went down the stream, I fell asleep.
When we got to our destination, the snow mobiles were just arriving. The ferryman demanded I pay him $10 for the ride, exclaiming that the snow mobiles were free and people take the boat for the scenery (WHICH I WAS ASLEEP FOR). I got angry and looked at the tall guy, who just shrugged, like I should have known. I pulled out my wallet and I only had ones and a twenty. I asked if I could get change for a twenty, and the ferryman looked really annoyed and said, "No, just give me the twenty." I said no, and spent forever looking for a ten dollar bill. Dream flashes forward again, we're all in some Chinese town with a snowy mountain overlooking it. It's the end of the world. Literally - Armageddon is about to happen, and everyone knows it, but accepts it like something normal. The only other things I vaguely remember are walking on a path on the mountain, a ski lift, and a huge battle that none of us (students) were taking part in. We were all totally safe while other people fought it, and everything felt fine.
Really weird dream.
I was in school ("School", we were all mid 20's men) and I was in a computer lab. I goofed off for about ten minutes, and then I pulled up Youtube and started listening to techno. Some fat guy sat next to me, and I realized I might be bothering him, so I said "Is this bothering you? I'll turn it off if it is." He sounded apologetic and said "Yeah, I really hate techno. Sorry, I used to watch this show." This made total sense, I said ok, and turned it off. Next thing I know we're on a field trip. Everyone is taking snow mobiles down a snowy mountain to get to where we need to go. I see some tall African guy who I apparently knew in the dream - I even knew his name, which I don't remember now, but it was like, Aheswala or something similar - who I was cool with. We weren't friends, but we knew each other and were nice acquaintances. Instead of the snow mobiles, he was sitting on a ferry that was going down a tropical river instead. I thought he looked relaxed, and sat next to him. As the boat went down the stream, I fell asleep.
When we got to our destination, the snow mobiles were just arriving. The ferryman demanded I pay him $10 for the ride, exclaiming that the snow mobiles were free and people take the boat for the scenery (WHICH I WAS ASLEEP FOR). I got angry and looked at the tall guy, who just shrugged, like I should have known. I pulled out my wallet and I only had ones and a twenty. I asked if I could get change for a twenty, and the ferryman looked really annoyed and said, "No, just give me the twenty." I said no, and spent forever looking for a ten dollar bill. Dream flashes forward again, we're all in some Chinese town with a snowy mountain overlooking it. It's the end of the world. Literally - Armageddon is about to happen, and everyone knows it, but accepts it like something normal. The only other things I vaguely remember are walking on a path on the mountain, a ski lift, and a huge battle that none of us (students) were taking part in. We were all totally safe while other people fought it, and everything felt fine.
Really weird dream.
Monday, May 25, 2015
Productivity, a rare find
I started writing a novel.
It feels good to write creatively. It really does.
We'll see if it can withstand the relentless assault of job applications and other life responsibilities.
It feels good to write creatively. It really does.
We'll see if it can withstand the relentless assault of job applications and other life responsibilities.
Saturday, May 23, 2015
No Equal in Heaven; no Equal on Earth
I have always wanted to be the best at everything. I'm not really the best at anything. Quite a conundrum, no?
Well, perfectionism is inherently flawed.
It pains me to say it, because admitting as such is ugly in a spiritual and metaphysical sense, but I have always wanted to be the most talented, most attractive, most hilarious, most kind, most intelligent person in the room. Ironically, I also always wanted to be the most humble, solely because humility is an endearing trait. I am, 100% of the time, never any of those things. Sure, I can crack a joke now and then, but I'm no professional comedian. I run every day, but I'm no athlete. I'm decent with words, but I'm not exactly the valedictorian student of my graduating class. I'm not hideous, but I'm not exactly a model, either - and that certainly won't get any better as the years go on. I realized my perceived inadequacy at a very early age (as most people do) but it did not stop me from trying to be the best.
I've come to terms with it, at first painfully, but then peacefully. Allow me to elaborate: what at first was a personal failure has become a realization of personal worth. I don't have to be "the best" - nobody does. I realized this over time as relationships with various people came to an end. Reflecting on the relationships I've had - those of friendship, those of rivalry, those of teamwork, those of love - each one brought something into my life that was distinctly unique to that person. Their essence, or their soul, or whatever you'd like to call it, was an almost tangible presence. It was distinctly identifiable, but not in a way you could immediately describe with words. It didn't matter if these people were the best at anything - they were giving to the world just by being, and their presence was appreciated (or unappreciated, in some cases) based largely on their attitude, character, and intrinsic worth as a human being. What took me a long time to realize was that I was a part of that intrinsic worth. Our souls sung a song with each other. A gathering of friends was a symphony of souls. A night with a lover was a serenade of souls. What is hardest to understand is that part of what makes a person unique is in what they can't do, what they don't do right, and what they do better than you. If everyone was singing the same note, we wouldn't have any symphonies or serenades. We'd have a blazing disaster of a performance, one where everyone is blaring the same sound, not unlike the high, annoying buzz of a broken electrical appliance or the incessant ringing of a fire alarm.
Of course, it is still good to strive to be better. A better athlete, a better comedian, a better writer, a better scholar, a better worker, a nicer person. Striving for greatness is great. Obviously.
But it's ok if you don't end up being great. And being the absolute best? Forget about it.
As I write this post, I call to mind a soul I met at one point in my life who resonated with me very strongly precisely because of their burning desire for perfection. I could tell, almost immediately, that they, too, wanted to be the best. Always, all the time, at everything. They wanted to be admired as a the pinnacle of beauty, the pinnacle of intelligence, the perfect social butterfly, the model who sat on their throne above all others and served as an example of perfection to everyone else. As I came to know them better, I realized more fully that this person's perfectionism stemmed from a deep, deep desire to be loved and admired, and an even deeper fear of rejection. I won't mention their name, or when and where I met them, on the 0.0000001% chance that they may read this and recognize that I am talking about them. But I wish every day that this person will realize and accept their intrinsic worth. Even moreso because they were better than me at everything.
Friday, May 22, 2015
Hello, actually R.I.P.
Say hello to Emoji Man.
👌 👨🏻
✒️🎷👕🐛
🍴 🌂👍
📮
🔦 📎
🍸 🍸
👟 👟
Edit: It appears he does not translate well to Blogger. Rest in peace, Emoji Man, we hardly knew ye.
This is what he looked like during his life:
No, actually, I do have something to say.
I visited my old college to get a transcript today, and I almost teared up. Why have I been thinking about that place so much lately? It felt more like home than any other home I've lived in. I wonder how everyone is doing, because I have reason to believe social media does not accurately represent their life (haha, selective presentation). I have best wishes for all of them. Most of them.
No, all of them. Even you guys that made my life miserable, screw you, and bless you too. I won't selectively present my thoughts about or wishes towards you. I hope you're doing well.
👌 👨🏻
✒️🎷👕🐛
🍴 🌂👍
📮
🔦 📎
🍸 🍸
👟 👟
Edit: It appears he does not translate well to Blogger. Rest in peace, Emoji Man, we hardly knew ye.
This is what he looked like during his life:
No, actually, I do have something to say.
I visited my old college to get a transcript today, and I almost teared up. Why have I been thinking about that place so much lately? It felt more like home than any other home I've lived in. I wonder how everyone is doing, because I have reason to believe social media does not accurately represent their life (haha, selective presentation). I have best wishes for all of them. Most of them.
No, all of them. Even you guys that made my life miserable, screw you, and bless you too. I won't selectively present my thoughts about or wishes towards you. I hope you're doing well.
Thursday, May 21, 2015
Persona : Mask :: Self : Beauty
People's personas - their masks, their public identities - are a frightening thing. When you speak to someone, you are not dealing with the true essence of that person, but rather a strange projection of who that person wants you to see combined with a sense of restraint born out of a desire to avoid unpleasant social interaction. Their real self is buried far beneath that, asking all sorts of questions, making all sorts of judgements, contemplating all sorts of desires, saying all sorts of things. And you see and hear absolutely none of that.
It can also be a beautiful thing. As you get closer to someone, they open up. You open up. The mask slowly comes off, the shield is let down, and you get to see each other for who you are. The truest essence of a person usually ends up being known by a very, very select few. Even amongst their greatest friends and closest acquaintances, people have some sort of performance act going on. It's cool, that's fine - it makes friendship, partnership, and all other social relations their own special thing. You can be someone around a certain group of friends because of your mask. It's a social construct, an intrinsic piece of society. It's a good thing. Scary, if you think about it too hard, but good nonetheless.
When you really love someone and take off your mask, and become the real you, and can just talk about whatever, sit together in silence and be content, communicate without words, forgive the weird quirks in each other that society doesn't want to see, and even love these quirks, there's a deep, pure, and amazing beauty to that kind of relationship. It shines so brightly because it's the kind of thing you can't share with just anybody. People think it's reserved for significant others, but platonic friendships can reach this point, too. Middle schoolers refer to these people as their "best friends", a term that becomes less acceptable to use as you grow older. I think adults can share close platonic friendships, too, but it might be rarer in our society than it should be.
I wonder how many people sit down and truly think about this kind of thing. I often get accused of thinking too hard, or thinking too much when I bring this up to other people. Really? Come on. This is hardly scratching the surface. I guess it doesn't make for very entertaining small talk, I'll give people that.
Enough rambling romanticism.
It can also be a beautiful thing. As you get closer to someone, they open up. You open up. The mask slowly comes off, the shield is let down, and you get to see each other for who you are. The truest essence of a person usually ends up being known by a very, very select few. Even amongst their greatest friends and closest acquaintances, people have some sort of performance act going on. It's cool, that's fine - it makes friendship, partnership, and all other social relations their own special thing. You can be someone around a certain group of friends because of your mask. It's a social construct, an intrinsic piece of society. It's a good thing. Scary, if you think about it too hard, but good nonetheless.
When you really love someone and take off your mask, and become the real you, and can just talk about whatever, sit together in silence and be content, communicate without words, forgive the weird quirks in each other that society doesn't want to see, and even love these quirks, there's a deep, pure, and amazing beauty to that kind of relationship. It shines so brightly because it's the kind of thing you can't share with just anybody. People think it's reserved for significant others, but platonic friendships can reach this point, too. Middle schoolers refer to these people as their "best friends", a term that becomes less acceptable to use as you grow older. I think adults can share close platonic friendships, too, but it might be rarer in our society than it should be.
I wonder how many people sit down and truly think about this kind of thing. I often get accused of thinking too hard, or thinking too much when I bring this up to other people. Really? Come on. This is hardly scratching the surface. I guess it doesn't make for very entertaining small talk, I'll give people that.
Enough rambling romanticism.
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
Our Souls are Forged in Fire
I think it's apparent that life can be pretty brutal and unfair.
Complaining about it gets you nowhere, though. Especially in a world where people often beat you down further for whining, start comparing your situation to people who are worse off and attempt to invalidate your suffering, simply don't care, or are too busy suffering themselves to offer you any solace or assistance.
The key to getting through life's suffering is love, of course, but preaching about love will get you labeled as a wide eyed, naive fool. Even worse, it's likely to be seen as inconsequential rambling at best or worthless drivel at worst - why even bother talking about love? Why bother talking about the value other people hold in your life? Why does that matter? "How sweet," people think, before quietly moving on. "What a fool," people think, before writing you off. "What a loser," people think, laughing at you. "This is dumb," people think, not finding entertainment or gratification in your words. The message is lost. And this doesn't simply apply to preaching about love - it applies to how people seem to view love as a whole. People are preoccupied with the bare necessities in their lives, lost in hedonistic tendencies, lost in their minds, lost in their goals, lost in their desires, lost in their sorrow, lost in themselves.
In an often loveless world, how does one react? What is one supposed to do?
I don't think there's a single answer to that question, but humor is an invaluable weapon in the war against the world. It will protect you, and help others in their own suffering. People may write off preaching more often than not, but humor is much more likely to light people up from the inside out. Take nothing seriously, joke all the time, laugh. Laugh at everything, laugh at yourself. I'll gladly play the fool if it can make other people laugh and smile.
I used to take myself very seriously. I would avoid things I found beneath me, I would judge others, I was a stickler for rules, I was a perfectionist, I took every tiny bit of criticism or slander to heart, and I wanted people to recognize me. I was also miserable. Eventually you just have to ask yourself, "Why let the world keep beating you down?" Loosen up.
A world of suffering opens your heart.
Complaining about it gets you nowhere, though. Especially in a world where people often beat you down further for whining, start comparing your situation to people who are worse off and attempt to invalidate your suffering, simply don't care, or are too busy suffering themselves to offer you any solace or assistance.
The key to getting through life's suffering is love, of course, but preaching about love will get you labeled as a wide eyed, naive fool. Even worse, it's likely to be seen as inconsequential rambling at best or worthless drivel at worst - why even bother talking about love? Why bother talking about the value other people hold in your life? Why does that matter? "How sweet," people think, before quietly moving on. "What a fool," people think, before writing you off. "What a loser," people think, laughing at you. "This is dumb," people think, not finding entertainment or gratification in your words. The message is lost. And this doesn't simply apply to preaching about love - it applies to how people seem to view love as a whole. People are preoccupied with the bare necessities in their lives, lost in hedonistic tendencies, lost in their minds, lost in their goals, lost in their desires, lost in their sorrow, lost in themselves.
In an often loveless world, how does one react? What is one supposed to do?
I don't think there's a single answer to that question, but humor is an invaluable weapon in the war against the world. It will protect you, and help others in their own suffering. People may write off preaching more often than not, but humor is much more likely to light people up from the inside out. Take nothing seriously, joke all the time, laugh. Laugh at everything, laugh at yourself. I'll gladly play the fool if it can make other people laugh and smile.
I used to take myself very seriously. I would avoid things I found beneath me, I would judge others, I was a stickler for rules, I was a perfectionist, I took every tiny bit of criticism or slander to heart, and I wanted people to recognize me. I was also miserable. Eventually you just have to ask yourself, "Why let the world keep beating you down?" Loosen up.
A world of suffering opens your heart.
Sunday, May 17, 2015
A Cake for The Ages; a Cake for All Time
What
is cake for? Is it a treat designed to satiate the senses in a way that
ordinary food cannot? Is it a criminally unhealthy dessert mean to
serve as a mechanism of guilt that will wrack your very being? Is it a
reward for days and days of working hard at the gym - a moment of
reprieve in a desert of carrots and kale? Nay, I say, nay!
It is for having two slices.
Unwarranted justification of consuming sweets will come to an end starting now, though. I have essentially become the "tomorrow guy", the guy who always says he is going to eat healthy and then... doesn't. "I'll do it tomorrow" has just become "I'll do it now." Contrary to what social media has been saying, the "dad bod" isn't getting anyone anywhere.
It was nut cake, by the way. Damn, was it good.
It is for having two slices.
Unwarranted justification of consuming sweets will come to an end starting now, though. I have essentially become the "tomorrow guy", the guy who always says he is going to eat healthy and then... doesn't. "I'll do it tomorrow" has just become "I'll do it now." Contrary to what social media has been saying, the "dad bod" isn't getting anyone anywhere.
It was nut cake, by the way. Damn, was it good.
Friday, May 15, 2015
Hindsight, my nemesis
Sometimes I get back to thinking about who I was in college. College was a very weird experience, for a number of reasons. I actually wrote a really long, detailed, wordy post, but decided that it could be summed up like this:
I made the best decisions of my life.
I made the worst decisions of my life.
(That is some Dickensian nonsense right there)
College is often called your formative years, where you stop becoming an extension of your parents and blossom into a fully autonomous adult. I learned how to live on my own. I experienced independence, I nailed down a work ethic (after failing miserably due to my old lack of a work ethic), I started eating healthy (aside from the occasional trip to Olive Garden to abuse their infinite breadstick policy), and I gained a lot of other life skills that I'll take with me forever. I also met a lot of really cool people that I still consider good friends. Thanks, college.
I also met some terrible people, and was a terrible person myself, at times. I still shudder when I think of some of the things I said out loud, some of the things I thought made me look good in front of others, and even some of the things I said and did in class. I think only one word can describe how I feel about the negative side of college: my bad. Wait, that's two words. Well, it's one phrase. Whatever. Either way, the point is, I still think back on this sometimes and visibly cringe, mentally trying to shove these memories back to the vault of oblivion that I originally put them in. But they keep escaping, especially when Person A I did some stupid shit around is friends with Person B I'm still cool with on Facebook and posts on the same status as me or I run into Person A in public. Awkward. I'm not the same guy, I swear. (Metaphorically)
I'm glad I have a positive and negative side of things to look back on, in order to be a better human being going forward. I know who I want to be and I definitely know who I don't want to be.
This post might seem very personal, but it is, actually, universally applicable to anyone who goes to college or spends their early young adult years in a particular community. You have both the good and the bad to push you forward, and sometimes you can't tell which is which until you're a few years ahead and look back at your experience. Both sides can help you grow in a positive way.
Tomorrow is another day, etc.
I made the best decisions of my life.
I made the worst decisions of my life.
(That is some Dickensian nonsense right there)
College is often called your formative years, where you stop becoming an extension of your parents and blossom into a fully autonomous adult. I learned how to live on my own. I experienced independence, I nailed down a work ethic (after failing miserably due to my old lack of a work ethic), I started eating healthy (aside from the occasional trip to Olive Garden to abuse their infinite breadstick policy), and I gained a lot of other life skills that I'll take with me forever. I also met a lot of really cool people that I still consider good friends. Thanks, college.
I also met some terrible people, and was a terrible person myself, at times. I still shudder when I think of some of the things I said out loud, some of the things I thought made me look good in front of others, and even some of the things I said and did in class. I think only one word can describe how I feel about the negative side of college: my bad. Wait, that's two words. Well, it's one phrase. Whatever. Either way, the point is, I still think back on this sometimes and visibly cringe, mentally trying to shove these memories back to the vault of oblivion that I originally put them in. But they keep escaping, especially when Person A I did some stupid shit around is friends with Person B I'm still cool with on Facebook and posts on the same status as me or I run into Person A in public. Awkward. I'm not the same guy, I swear. (Metaphorically)
I'm glad I have a positive and negative side of things to look back on, in order to be a better human being going forward. I know who I want to be and I definitely know who I don't want to be.
This post might seem very personal, but it is, actually, universally applicable to anyone who goes to college or spends their early young adult years in a particular community. You have both the good and the bad to push you forward, and sometimes you can't tell which is which until you're a few years ahead and look back at your experience. Both sides can help you grow in a positive way.
Tomorrow is another day, etc.
Thursday, May 14, 2015
Extremely thought provoking analysis of an important subject
After taking a three hour exam, my head is totally empty. Nothing left to think about.
Have this.
Feel nautious? A bit of vertigo? Nervous? If your answer is no, you have nerves of steel.
The things people do for their fifteen minutes of fame. Or maybe this guy is just crazy, I dunno.
Have this.
Feel nautious? A bit of vertigo? Nervous? If your answer is no, you have nerves of steel.
The things people do for their fifteen minutes of fame. Or maybe this guy is just crazy, I dunno.
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
I am ok
Right, blog. Supposed to update every day.
Suffocating. Dying. Exam tomorrow. Practice test. Utter devastation. Cheese and ice cream. Help now. Regret later. Music. Drowning in distraction. Study? Maybe. Did so much. Must do more.
S.O.S. S.O.S. S.O.S. S.O.S.
Update: Apparently I have an ulcer. HA HA, GREAT TIMING. Thanks, grad school!
Suffocating. Dying. Exam tomorrow. Practice test. Utter devastation. Cheese and ice cream. Help now. Regret later. Music. Drowning in distraction. Study? Maybe. Did so much. Must do more.
S.O.S. S.O.S. S.O.S. S.O.S.
Update: Apparently I have an ulcer. HA HA, GREAT TIMING. Thanks, grad school!
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
Surprise, it's Summer
It's suddenly Summer outside. That happened fast. It might not be Summer on the calendar, yet, but it is outside. At this time last week, the trees were still blooming.
On that note, out of all the feelings in the world, an air conditioned house is one of the best. Most people would say that accomplishing something, meeting an old friend for the first time in a long time, cuddling with someone you love, getting promoted, making love, getting married, getting new stuff, experiencing Christmas as a child, having your first kid, or whatever else is the best feeling in the world. No. People have it all wrong. Nobody ever mentions walking into an air conditioned house on a hot day. That is the best feeling in the world.
It's not quite hot enough for that, yet, but soon it shall be. And I shall have my glorious, synthetic reprieve. Oh yes.
On that note, out of all the feelings in the world, an air conditioned house is one of the best. Most people would say that accomplishing something, meeting an old friend for the first time in a long time, cuddling with someone you love, getting promoted, making love, getting married, getting new stuff, experiencing Christmas as a child, having your first kid, or whatever else is the best feeling in the world. No. People have it all wrong. Nobody ever mentions walking into an air conditioned house on a hot day. That is the best feeling in the world.
It's not quite hot enough for that, yet, but soon it shall be. And I shall have my glorious, synthetic reprieve. Oh yes.
Monday, May 11, 2015
Studying is dumb
I've spent all day either studying, or not-studying, where I feel too guilty to do something that requires actual effort, but doing something that doesn't require much effort (like Youtube) is perfectly ok because I'm "just taking a break". The results of not-studying were productive in their own way, though.
Ha! I should also mention that this is a comprehensive, three hour exam that determines if I get a license to teach or not. But who cares when you can watch a pigeon steal a car? The internet is the best waste of time ever. I mean that cynically and sincerely.
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Mother's Day
Mother's Day. Hm.
Being a man, I can't possibly imagine what hardships a mother faces. Having a human being grow inside of you, giving birth, raising a child, having such a strong link to your child... it's all foreign to me, and always will be.
I do know what it's like to have a mother, though, and mothers are pretty great. Always there for you. When the father figure tries to whip you into shape, and make you a better person, your mom is always there to comfort you and make you feel good about yourself.
At least, this is what's supposed to happen. Being human, mothers make mistakes, their personality flaws break through, and they often damage their kids for life in one way or another. Parenting: the impossible job. The job you're destined to fail at, despite being the one job you are absolutely not allowed to fail at. This is all part of the puzzle, though. Growing up, you at first love your parents, and then hate them, and then, as you grow into an adult yourself, forgive them for being human beings that make mistakes.
Then there are rotten people who have children. Legitimately bad people. I hesitate to call them mothers, because outside of the primal need to preserve their child, if they even have that, they don't care about their children at all. Unworthy of the moniker of "mother", for sure. I feel bad for anyone who suffered abuse, lack of care, or any other failure to show love from their biological mother. I know people with rotten "mothers". I do not envy them. Everyone deserves a loving mother. Everyone. On that same note, however, I greatly respect these same people who grew up without this essential human need for a mother figure and still came out alright, although I still would not wish the experience on anyone.
Why on earth would I mention something so downright awful in a post celebrating Mother's Day? Because it isn't fair to those who didn't have a mother there for them to go on about how great all mothers are. It would be like saying, "I know. Nobody was there for you. Whatever, man." Acknowledgement goes a long way when it comes to poverty, and lacking a mother is real poverty of the soul. The real point is that the heart of what a mother is extends far beyond simply who gave birth to you. While it's great if that does work out, a real mother is someone who looks out for you - biologically related or not. I feel as if today celebrates all real mothers. And the fact that some people didn't have that in their life is even greater cause to celebrate the good souls who did fulfill this role.
A mother, at her core, is a caring, nurturing, noble soul, one who has a job so intricate and so life consuming that I can't help but label it as one of the most respectable jobs in the world. And in our society, people often work paying jobs in addition to the gigantic responsibility of motherhood, which is an admirable feat.
Moms everywhere deserve a huge medal. They carry an impossible cross, but one that must be carried, and one that bears fruit like no other. Every human being on earth owes their life to their mother, in one way or another.
Happy Mother's Day.
Being a man, I can't possibly imagine what hardships a mother faces. Having a human being grow inside of you, giving birth, raising a child, having such a strong link to your child... it's all foreign to me, and always will be.
I do know what it's like to have a mother, though, and mothers are pretty great. Always there for you. When the father figure tries to whip you into shape, and make you a better person, your mom is always there to comfort you and make you feel good about yourself.
At least, this is what's supposed to happen. Being human, mothers make mistakes, their personality flaws break through, and they often damage their kids for life in one way or another. Parenting: the impossible job. The job you're destined to fail at, despite being the one job you are absolutely not allowed to fail at. This is all part of the puzzle, though. Growing up, you at first love your parents, and then hate them, and then, as you grow into an adult yourself, forgive them for being human beings that make mistakes.
Then there are rotten people who have children. Legitimately bad people. I hesitate to call them mothers, because outside of the primal need to preserve their child, if they even have that, they don't care about their children at all. Unworthy of the moniker of "mother", for sure. I feel bad for anyone who suffered abuse, lack of care, or any other failure to show love from their biological mother. I know people with rotten "mothers". I do not envy them. Everyone deserves a loving mother. Everyone. On that same note, however, I greatly respect these same people who grew up without this essential human need for a mother figure and still came out alright, although I still would not wish the experience on anyone.
Why on earth would I mention something so downright awful in a post celebrating Mother's Day? Because it isn't fair to those who didn't have a mother there for them to go on about how great all mothers are. It would be like saying, "I know. Nobody was there for you. Whatever, man." Acknowledgement goes a long way when it comes to poverty, and lacking a mother is real poverty of the soul. The real point is that the heart of what a mother is extends far beyond simply who gave birth to you. While it's great if that does work out, a real mother is someone who looks out for you - biologically related or not. I feel as if today celebrates all real mothers. And the fact that some people didn't have that in their life is even greater cause to celebrate the good souls who did fulfill this role.
A mother, at her core, is a caring, nurturing, noble soul, one who has a job so intricate and so life consuming that I can't help but label it as one of the most respectable jobs in the world. And in our society, people often work paying jobs in addition to the gigantic responsibility of motherhood, which is an admirable feat.
Moms everywhere deserve a huge medal. They carry an impossible cross, but one that must be carried, and one that bears fruit like no other. Every human being on earth owes their life to their mother, in one way or another.
Happy Mother's Day.
Saturday, May 9, 2015
Work, Money, Desire
I always think it's so much more amazing when people do things for free.
"Well, obviously", is the expected response to that. Who doesn't love free things? Think about it for a second, though.
All throughout history, society has been run by the dollar sign. Do this for us, we give you money. You have money, you can live a good life. Fair enough. People don't wake up and go sit behind a gas station counter for minimum wage because they like it. People do not become plumbers because they enjoy what that job entails. People do not spend thousands on law school to become an attorney without expecting some kind of monetary return in the long run. I recall a psychologist once telling me that he hated roofing. It was the worst job that he had ever had. It was so bad, he went to med school to avoid it for the rest of his life. I asked him if he liked his job now, complaining that I hated my at the time gas station job. "This is my gas station", he told me, gesturing to his office. Wow. That hit me, as a very young adult with a naive view of the world, that this professional doctor was only here to avoid worse consequences. I then came to realize: so has it been for all of history.
Underneath every desire to work, though, or at least in most cases, there's always a sense of genuine interest or pure reasoning for doing that particular job that goes beyond "making money" or "being comfortable". The genuineness can be a base or higher motivation, but waking up and going to work is very rarely done so with the singular goal of racking up more dough.
"I need to provide for my children. Time to go serve fries at McDonald's."
"I find the human mind interesting. Let me study psychology."
"I don't want criminals to go free. I want society to be safe. Let me become a cop."
Dr. So-and-so didn't go to med school because he pulled that decision out of a hat. At least, I hope not. Working isn't just a means to end - I feel like there's something intrinsic in us that wants to work, to produce something, something only we can do, something that uses our personal talents to contribute to the world and to others. Everyone has that motivation.
What really gets me - in a good way - is when people use that motivation outside of necessity. I grew up as a recluse, so I was heavily involved in internet communities as a teenager. It was there that I realized that people were willing to do things for free if they loved it enough. People draw pieces of art in tribute to other works that they enjoy, people make websites dedicated to their favorite thing, people write fan fiction (although my opinion on this is another story altogether, it's the effort that impresses me) simply because they love the characters, people start blogs because they like movies, and they want to talk about movies, and share that love with others. People produce things out of a genuine sense of love for a particular thing. Now that the internet is more prolific, many people are exposed to fan works like this on a daily basis. Of course, people have been doing things like this for a long time, but the internet has been my generation's primary experience with this kind of thing, and I don't think doing stuff just to do stuff was as popular a venture when you couldn't put it online for God and everybody to see and value. I feel, however, like people take for granted the charity that they're being given by hard working souls who pour their being into their work for no other sake than for the sake of loving what it is that they do, or loving what someone else has done and attempting to bring that love to others.
Anyone who does something for free is a saint, in their own way. All the power to them.
Anyone who does things for not-free is still cool, though. Keep society going, and all that.
"Well, obviously", is the expected response to that. Who doesn't love free things? Think about it for a second, though.
All throughout history, society has been run by the dollar sign. Do this for us, we give you money. You have money, you can live a good life. Fair enough. People don't wake up and go sit behind a gas station counter for minimum wage because they like it. People do not become plumbers because they enjoy what that job entails. People do not spend thousands on law school to become an attorney without expecting some kind of monetary return in the long run. I recall a psychologist once telling me that he hated roofing. It was the worst job that he had ever had. It was so bad, he went to med school to avoid it for the rest of his life. I asked him if he liked his job now, complaining that I hated my at the time gas station job. "This is my gas station", he told me, gesturing to his office. Wow. That hit me, as a very young adult with a naive view of the world, that this professional doctor was only here to avoid worse consequences. I then came to realize: so has it been for all of history.
Underneath every desire to work, though, or at least in most cases, there's always a sense of genuine interest or pure reasoning for doing that particular job that goes beyond "making money" or "being comfortable". The genuineness can be a base or higher motivation, but waking up and going to work is very rarely done so with the singular goal of racking up more dough.
"I need to provide for my children. Time to go serve fries at McDonald's."
"I find the human mind interesting. Let me study psychology."
"I don't want criminals to go free. I want society to be safe. Let me become a cop."
Dr. So-and-so didn't go to med school because he pulled that decision out of a hat. At least, I hope not. Working isn't just a means to end - I feel like there's something intrinsic in us that wants to work, to produce something, something only we can do, something that uses our personal talents to contribute to the world and to others. Everyone has that motivation.
What really gets me - in a good way - is when people use that motivation outside of necessity. I grew up as a recluse, so I was heavily involved in internet communities as a teenager. It was there that I realized that people were willing to do things for free if they loved it enough. People draw pieces of art in tribute to other works that they enjoy, people make websites dedicated to their favorite thing, people write fan fiction (although my opinion on this is another story altogether, it's the effort that impresses me) simply because they love the characters, people start blogs because they like movies, and they want to talk about movies, and share that love with others. People produce things out of a genuine sense of love for a particular thing. Now that the internet is more prolific, many people are exposed to fan works like this on a daily basis. Of course, people have been doing things like this for a long time, but the internet has been my generation's primary experience with this kind of thing, and I don't think doing stuff just to do stuff was as popular a venture when you couldn't put it online for God and everybody to see and value. I feel, however, like people take for granted the charity that they're being given by hard working souls who pour their being into their work for no other sake than for the sake of loving what it is that they do, or loving what someone else has done and attempting to bring that love to others.
Anyone who does something for free is a saint, in their own way. All the power to them.
Anyone who does things for not-free is still cool, though. Keep society going, and all that.
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