Here's something to think about: you live on a planet with seven billion other people. Several billion more existed before you, and several billion are still on their way. Each and every one of them has a life just as deep as yours. And each and every one of these lives will carry on, whether you're watching or not.
Now consider this: Each one of these people sees life through a different set of eyes than you.They each have a different life, a set of millions of instances and choices that led to the culmination of where they are today. These are deep and intricate webs of experience, and there is nobody on Earth who matches you.
This leads to my big thought. There are countless other people out there. And you can't understand a single one. Try as we might, we have our own lens we view the world through. When you think you know somebody, it's not true. What you know is the caricature you invented, the mask you superimposed over their true self. This is not a bad thing. It's the best way we have to understand each other, so we might as well use it. Even so, it's important to realize that out of all the people out there, we know exactly one of them.
Of course, this thought will disturb us every now and again. Knowing only ourselves is a bit disturbing. So we try to improve, and live other lives. It's why we read, watch TV, play video games, learn. We want to get a brief glimpse of another life, so we try to live it vicariously. Sometimes, we want more than just a snapshot. We want to know somebody as well as we know ourselves. Of course, this is a momentous task. But we attempt it and name it love. Sometimes, people succeed. Watch the mannerisms of an old couple if you don't believe me, and that brings me joy.
But no matter what we do, you will still run into a thousand people in your lifetime, and each will have a story as intricate as yours. Chances are you won't give most of them any more attention than you would a spare nickle. All those lives, and you might understand one.
Food for thought.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Monday, October 22, 2012
Concerning Meeting People
This weekend was the rookie debate tournament, perhaps my favorite of the year. A) I don't have to do anything and B) I get a chance to meet all the novices.
This second one is what the weekend is really about. For the six weeks beforehand, I sit in the same classroom as the novices, watching them toil away at their work. It's cute, really, observing them doing their best, unaware of the much lower Varsity work ethic. I see them, and they see me. Occasionally, I might be called on to edit a speech or offer a pointer on how to speak. But by and large, we don't interact. We stay in our cliques, divided by experience level, and work independently.
Then the first tournament comes, and the walls break down. The novices get a terrifying first dose of experience, and the Varsity members are whisked away to judge. At once, the rest of the league is visible to your team. There is no more novice or varsity, only teammates who are suddenly surrounded with people as new to this as they are. It's exciting and scary, and the team gathers around two or three or five tables in a corner. Any class division is thrown to the wind as the competition fills up most of the room. Immediately, I find myself asking the novices how their rounds went, trying to recall the names of judges they should be wary of or opponents that are welcome pushovers.
This process starts out of duty more than anything else, but quickly evolves into something more. Something clicks. I'm surrounded by a bunch of people who I've shared a class with since September, but I know nothing more than their face. Our talks of rounds quickly degenerates into small talk, and I find that I've suddenly increased the number of people I call friends.
Making friends is cool. I tend to forget this until I get an opportunity to make a bunch at once. So often, I focus on people I don't like. This weekend was one of those times when I got to meet a bunch of people I do. I have learned that when I am surrounded by people you don't like, it's because of circumstance. When I'm surrounded by people I like, it's because I actively pursue them. One of my biggest regrets, I realize, is that I was too passive through high school. I think I missed out on a lot of potentially cool people this way.
I changed that this weekend. And I think I made some amazing acquaintances. It was a great weekend.
This second one is what the weekend is really about. For the six weeks beforehand, I sit in the same classroom as the novices, watching them toil away at their work. It's cute, really, observing them doing their best, unaware of the much lower Varsity work ethic. I see them, and they see me. Occasionally, I might be called on to edit a speech or offer a pointer on how to speak. But by and large, we don't interact. We stay in our cliques, divided by experience level, and work independently.
Then the first tournament comes, and the walls break down. The novices get a terrifying first dose of experience, and the Varsity members are whisked away to judge. At once, the rest of the league is visible to your team. There is no more novice or varsity, only teammates who are suddenly surrounded with people as new to this as they are. It's exciting and scary, and the team gathers around two or three or five tables in a corner. Any class division is thrown to the wind as the competition fills up most of the room. Immediately, I find myself asking the novices how their rounds went, trying to recall the names of judges they should be wary of or opponents that are welcome pushovers.
This process starts out of duty more than anything else, but quickly evolves into something more. Something clicks. I'm surrounded by a bunch of people who I've shared a class with since September, but I know nothing more than their face. Our talks of rounds quickly degenerates into small talk, and I find that I've suddenly increased the number of people I call friends.
Making friends is cool. I tend to forget this until I get an opportunity to make a bunch at once. So often, I focus on people I don't like. This weekend was one of those times when I got to meet a bunch of people I do. I have learned that when I am surrounded by people you don't like, it's because of circumstance. When I'm surrounded by people I like, it's because I actively pursue them. One of my biggest regrets, I realize, is that I was too passive through high school. I think I missed out on a lot of potentially cool people this way.
I changed that this weekend. And I think I made some amazing acquaintances. It was a great weekend.
The Backpackless Day
Before I begin this post, I'm going to share my excitement. My blog now has seven followers. That's like really cool. A special welcome to those I may or may not have had the pleasure of meeting in real life: Andy Sp-something: the apologizing bandit, and the enigmatically named CHINA. I'm pretty sure it's not the PRC stalking my blog, seeing as they mainly use their blog to recommend English books, but you can never be too careful. CHINA, I'll let you know that your government is really cool and stuff and please don't block me from your country. As for Andy Sp-something, she has a post up on the 23rd. That's tomorrow, folks. Being able to update a blog from the future is pretty impressive.
Okay, thank yous over. Time for the meat of this post.
On Wednesday of last week, I had an idea. It occurred to me that I had no homework to turn in, I probably wouldn't need my calculator that day, and that paper is pretty easy to slough. Days like this don't come along every day. So I did what any self-respecting back would do, I abandoned my backpack with reckless abandon.
It felt as if a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Not just the literal kind either. I was free to dart through the hallways, a third of my usual girth. It was liberating, watching everyone else lumber through the hallway. Free from the slight ache my shoulders usually endures, I felt almost gleeful. Not an emotion I usually associate with high school.
At the same time, though, I was vulnerable. I was armed with a single pen, and entirely dependent upon those around me for paper. When I received a worksheet, I had to make sure to guard it from the wind. Freedom comes with a price.
I don't know why I told you this story. Maybe you will.
Peace. There very well might be another post today.
Okay, thank yous over. Time for the meat of this post.
On Wednesday of last week, I had an idea. It occurred to me that I had no homework to turn in, I probably wouldn't need my calculator that day, and that paper is pretty easy to slough. Days like this don't come along every day. So I did what any self-respecting back would do, I abandoned my backpack with reckless abandon.
It felt as if a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Not just the literal kind either. I was free to dart through the hallways, a third of my usual girth. It was liberating, watching everyone else lumber through the hallway. Free from the slight ache my shoulders usually endures, I felt almost gleeful. Not an emotion I usually associate with high school.
At the same time, though, I was vulnerable. I was armed with a single pen, and entirely dependent upon those around me for paper. When I received a worksheet, I had to make sure to guard it from the wind. Freedom comes with a price.
I don't know why I told you this story. Maybe you will.
Peace. There very well might be another post today.
Monday, October 15, 2012
The Single Complex
This weekend was homecoming, perhaps the one day of the year I stay off of the Book of Faces as ardently as possible. There are two sorts of trash that appear, overwhelming my newsfeed for 12 hours. The first type is best defined by this:
"Oo! Ooooh! Look at me! I got a date! Look, guys, I'm popular!'
The other is more like this:
"Oh my gosh guys why won't anybody go to homecoming with meeeee?"
I can't decide which one is more annoying, but both bug me for the same reason. They imply that being single is a very bad thing. Everywhere in high school, a similar message is projected. If you don't have somebody to hold hands with as you skip down the hallway, there's no way your life could be happy.
Totally untrue.
The problem with high school dating is that it's a status symbol. If you get a girlfriend, if you can not get your heart broken IF you can find somebody desperate enough to date YOU, you have reached the end. This silly afterthought "love" doesn't matter, what matters is that you found someone who has a nice butt and is willing to call herself your girlfriend. And the sad thing is that it's not for them. And it's really not for you, either. It is to impress a bunch of other people who are floundering around in the same way.
The problem is that we buy into it. So many people are basing their entire happiness on whether or not they can get a date. The great irony is that such moaning and wallowing in self-despair is unattractive. If you want a date, go freaking get one. Anybody can get a date. Not everybody will find you attractive, but somebody will. If you really want a date, track that person down. But please stop moaning about it.
There's a group of people who I hold a great deal of respect for: the "Single-by-choice" group. These are the folks who are good-looking, not socially inept, and likable. Yet, they remain mysteriously unattached. When asked why, they say they don't want to date. The crazy thing is that they're being 100% honest. This is a crazy admirable thing. They've reached a level of understanding most teenagers haven't.
The simple truth is that if you've got a soul mate out there, they probably don't live in your school district. There are a lot of people in the world, and the very fact that they live in the same location as you probably lowers their compatibility. The SBC crowd knows this, and they live accordingly. Sure, there are people you'll get along with in high school, and it's okay to date them, but please please PLEASE don't make it your life. Something better comes down the road, and there's too much to do in high school to afford wasting your time on a faux-serious relationship.
Here's to you, Single by Choice people.
PS: Ladies, this doesn't mean I've gone asexual or anything. I'm still single and ready to mingle. Just don't expect me to get caught up with the hormone bog that is high school.
"Oo! Ooooh! Look at me! I got a date! Look, guys, I'm popular!'
The other is more like this:
"Oh my gosh guys why won't anybody go to homecoming with meeeee?"
I can't decide which one is more annoying, but both bug me for the same reason. They imply that being single is a very bad thing. Everywhere in high school, a similar message is projected. If you don't have somebody to hold hands with as you skip down the hallway, there's no way your life could be happy.
Totally untrue.
The problem with high school dating is that it's a status symbol. If you get a girlfriend, if you can not get your heart broken IF you can find somebody desperate enough to date YOU, you have reached the end. This silly afterthought "love" doesn't matter, what matters is that you found someone who has a nice butt and is willing to call herself your girlfriend. And the sad thing is that it's not for them. And it's really not for you, either. It is to impress a bunch of other people who are floundering around in the same way.
The problem is that we buy into it. So many people are basing their entire happiness on whether or not they can get a date. The great irony is that such moaning and wallowing in self-despair is unattractive. If you want a date, go freaking get one. Anybody can get a date. Not everybody will find you attractive, but somebody will. If you really want a date, track that person down. But please stop moaning about it.
There's a group of people who I hold a great deal of respect for: the "Single-by-choice" group. These are the folks who are good-looking, not socially inept, and likable. Yet, they remain mysteriously unattached. When asked why, they say they don't want to date. The crazy thing is that they're being 100% honest. This is a crazy admirable thing. They've reached a level of understanding most teenagers haven't.
The simple truth is that if you've got a soul mate out there, they probably don't live in your school district. There are a lot of people in the world, and the very fact that they live in the same location as you probably lowers their compatibility. The SBC crowd knows this, and they live accordingly. Sure, there are people you'll get along with in high school, and it's okay to date them, but please please PLEASE don't make it your life. Something better comes down the road, and there's too much to do in high school to afford wasting your time on a faux-serious relationship.
Here's to you, Single by Choice people.
PS: Ladies, this doesn't mean I've gone asexual or anything. I'm still single and ready to mingle. Just don't expect me to get caught up with the hormone bog that is high school.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Why We Write
That title was way more alliterative than I meant for it to be.
We taking writing for granted. We are surrounded by thousands of books, yet we never ask the question.In our Literature classes, we are taught how to write, we are taught when we write what, we are even taught what other's writing could possibly mean. But we never are taught why.
This is a little disturbing. Thousands of books, millions, and yet we assume they merely appeared there. Writing anything takes effort, and a novel is a marathon. People don't write just because they are bored. So why do we?
Identity.
I believe it was Carl Sagan who said, "We are a way for the cosmos to know itself." There is a whole lot of stuff out there, and it's hard to find where our identity begins. So I write, and hope that in doing so, I can sift out myself. I've taken up writing poetry. In the two days I've done it, I found a certain freedom. Poetry is unbound by the rules of grammar, a spew of thoughts, rather than a lab report of them.
Writing is liberating. I think. I think a lot of things, and they are hard to share verbally. But an idea leaves an impression, one that can be painted across a canvas and shared with the world. Words are merely another medium. I am an artist and I write because that is how I find who I am.
We taking writing for granted. We are surrounded by thousands of books, yet we never ask the question.In our Literature classes, we are taught how to write, we are taught when we write what, we are even taught what other's writing could possibly mean. But we never are taught why.
This is a little disturbing. Thousands of books, millions, and yet we assume they merely appeared there. Writing anything takes effort, and a novel is a marathon. People don't write just because they are bored. So why do we?
Identity.
I believe it was Carl Sagan who said, "We are a way for the cosmos to know itself." There is a whole lot of stuff out there, and it's hard to find where our identity begins. So I write, and hope that in doing so, I can sift out myself. I've taken up writing poetry. In the two days I've done it, I found a certain freedom. Poetry is unbound by the rules of grammar, a spew of thoughts, rather than a lab report of them.
Writing is liberating. I think. I think a lot of things, and they are hard to share verbally. But an idea leaves an impression, one that can be painted across a canvas and shared with the world. Words are merely another medium. I am an artist and I write because that is how I find who I am.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
The Better Dedicatory Post
This is a post. A dedicatory post. It's about a woman I met, in a summer long past. She came into my life as a dream, an image of perfection too perfect to be real. A girl by the name of Sarah. Sarah! A name far more fitting than Aphrodite to describe true beauty.
Words cannot describe the true beauty of Sarah, but I will make my best efforts. Such praises cannot remain unsung. Sarah was as beautiful as an exotic serpent, and equally deadly. Her flowing blonde hair must be cut regularly, for if it were allowed to grow, the sheer amount of radiance sprouting from her scalp would leave lesser beings blinded. Her voice is a swarm of butterflies, which envelops all nearby with its warm yet flowery insults. The smile that graces her face is an inverted, monochrome rainbow, dancing with the restrained grace and ferocity of a circus bear.
Once upon a time, I was smitten with the beautiful Sarah. Her feminine grace, her impeccable speech. Yet, I found that my affections were rejected. Today, I see this as a blessing. Surely, even somebody as wonderful as I was still not worthy of true perfection. So I let her go. Even so, I carry a piece of her in my heart to this day.
Though my words and my praises cannot truly express the greatness that is Sarah, I hope that my artistic talent will:
Words cannot describe the true beauty of Sarah, but I will make my best efforts. Such praises cannot remain unsung. Sarah was as beautiful as an exotic serpent, and equally deadly. Her flowing blonde hair must be cut regularly, for if it were allowed to grow, the sheer amount of radiance sprouting from her scalp would leave lesser beings blinded. Her voice is a swarm of butterflies, which envelops all nearby with its warm yet flowery insults. The smile that graces her face is an inverted, monochrome rainbow, dancing with the restrained grace and ferocity of a circus bear.
Once upon a time, I was smitten with the beautiful Sarah. Her feminine grace, her impeccable speech. Yet, I found that my affections were rejected. Today, I see this as a blessing. Surely, even somebody as wonderful as I was still not worthy of true perfection. So I let her go. Even so, I carry a piece of her in my heart to this day.
Though my words and my praises cannot truly express the greatness that is Sarah, I hope that my artistic talent will:
Yes, folks, she is really that skinny.
Sarah, you're beautiful.
Eat it, Marianne
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