Before my life turned around for the better, I was often saddened by certain gatherings. I suppose there is no simpler way to explain it than to say that I was chest-deep in envy, that none of my adventurous talking & socializing made me feel any closer to intimacy. Though here is some good news: After life turned around, a pensive mood is about as low as my pendulum swings. I will leave some gatherings with oceans of thoughts, but none that are remotely threatening or venomous. It is more akin to appreciation now; less envy, more a feeling that I've just seen something more miraculous than the Grand Canyon. And as far as I'm concerned, the Grand Canyon is an overused device anyway.
1. I recall when I first laid eyes on you. That moment is good evidence (perhaps better than anything else) that I am a wildly visual person. Why? Because your image, I think, offered me a certain degree of comfort and security. And I can't finally know if my instincts were correct, but neither can I disclaim some occasional guilt on the matter of being so visual. That is to say, is it right of me? How well would I fare, do you think, if the entire world were equally image-driven toward me? Do not think that I am suggesting an answer to this question, because I simply do not know. For what it's worth, though, you are both (to my mind) wonderful people whose kindness corresponds to those early, and instinctive, imaginations. I'm not going to pretend that your lives are flawless (please don't think that I am quite that starry-eyed), though I might still pose the complimentary question: What would someone lack if they modeled their life after yours?
2. Let me try and describe you with only two words. I think I might choose Ingenious and Laughter. And when those two forces meet with one another, they will morph into something which is neither the first nor the second. There are no real words, I mean to say, which can describe your sharpness; but I promise you that it swells to artistic proportions. And I can't describe why I smile when our conversations re-play in the VCR of my mind; suffice it to say that you are funnier, perhaps, than every Pie-in-the-Face joke ever performed in our history. You are unique. I would be content to have many more of these memories. Bless you both.
Sometimes I tell people how emotional I am. How I am, in many ways, a Head-in-the-Clouds romantic whose best moments arrive in those instances of interpersonal fireworks. I think that some people have trouble believing it; I think that some people, no matter how much time they spend with me, will always see me as a robot, or a Mr. Spock. But please don't think I observe this concept with any kind of a grievance. Yes, the Erudite is part of me, too. And if that's what people see, then God bless the Erudite. He is a special part of this spirit as well.
3. I have mentioned already that I am a visual person. And I could be wrong, but I suspect that you are often subject to the whims of us so-called 'visual people' (or in plain English: I bet there are people who want to know you better, merely on account of the way that you look). I advise you, once again, to visit the sentence where I say 'I could be wrong.' Highlight it, underline it, or cover it in Christmas lights if you so choose; but know that there is something in you (quite beyond the visual) which suggests an admirable tank-full of wisdom. Have you ever wanted to ask a question in a lecture, except that you realised the Professor was in no mood for questions? It is not entirely dissimilar to see the marvelous journey you are living; had I a sense that you were in no hurry to finish it, I might sit down (do the whole Criss-Cross-Applesauce number) and ask you to teach me your secrets.
4. I confess that I have a fear of bothering people. But it is a little more complicated than it sounds, I'm afraid, for the simple reason that it only applies to certain types of people. Well, guess what? You are one of those 'types,' one of those genuses where the issue would typically surface. But you are teaching me, as it were, that these interactions are nothing if not rewarding. To be honest, it would take a little while for me to explain this idea correctly. But I'm not too worried about that. I appreciate you so much for inviting me to a place where (I think) I belong, and where I continually realise how genuine this (relatively) new environment is.
Senses of humor are complicated. If I'm being honest, I don't think my Sense-of-Humor has fared too well in other people's lives. What do I mean when I say that? Well, it's similar to how some movies (which are box-office hits in America) don't make a lot of money when they're taken overseas. I understand that many of my jokes, particularly those predicated on utter misinformation and non-sequitur, are going to confuse others more than they entertain. But, you know. What do you want me to say? Do you want everyone to be like you? Hey! Here are some rapid-fire thoughts:
A) For the love of Heaven, please stop with this '(my ideological opponents) say (x), but then on the subject of (y), they contrarily say (z).' This kind of appeal makes no sense. Flip the quotation to its exact inverse, and the opposite ideology is incriminated of a mirroring paradox. And if you think there's a slick justification for the paradox in your own ideology, then you'd better accept it when the Other Side whips out a justification for theirs.
B) A similar thought, which stems from a recent tweet: The claim 'Just because you think (x) doesn't mean (x) is true!' is not any kind of argument whatsoever. The recipient could easily flip the claim, and say 'Well, just because you don't believe in (x) doesn't mean (x) isn't true!' Do not think I am saying that neither claim is correct; I am merely
saying that neither is an actual argument, so much as a motorized wheel of circular-reasoning which depends on a presupposition. That is to say, you've got to provide evidence for why (x) is or isn't true before you talk about a world where it definitely is or isn't.
C) The Cowboys lost! Rejoice!
D) There are far too many calamities and injuries for us to say that 'Happiness is a choice.' But have you ever heard it said that joy (distinct from happiness) is a choice? That we can choose blessed contentment in spite of the emotional lasers falling on us? I am at a point of life where I agree that joy is a choice; I think the toughest question is 'If that's so, then why would anyone choose not to have joy?' To which I am inclined to reply, 'Easy.' To my mind, life deals each of us some terrible cards. There is no denying that some people's cards are more dreadfully stacked than others (and if you think I am claiming otherwise, then you cannot be in my MySpace Top Eight), but even the most spoiled individual will find some perceived injustice. If you choose joy, then, are you not (in some way) saying, 'The injustice, however difficult, must be accepted. Bless the Lord.' And wouldn't that be a very difficult thing to say, unless you had buried your pride somewhere in the backyard?
But please don't think that I am necessarily asking you to agree with me. My larger concern is that there was a dog howling outside the window while I was writing this entry; and the neighbors heard the dog, it was always making noise and by the time the neighbors I had finished writing this entry, the neighbors came and the dog died