One day I'll sit back and say Thanks for all the Birthday wishes

It being two days past my birthday the proper time has come and so I'll share a rumination with my birthday and the lovely wishes from my friends I've received.

Anywho, the random reference in the title of this note is to "Someday" by Sugar Ray

And I suppose I'm just reminded of it because of that line "Someday, when my life has passed me by/ I'll sit back and wonder why you were always there for me" - because I got to say sometimes I wonder why I got all the good friends I got. It's really very lucky, very blessed, very awesome indeed.

Now in my life I've had up and downs, and while these days are far from my lows, my life, in some respects, fall shorts of my more ambitious dreams. But what I never could have dream of, is how many good folk I have in my life and how close I hold them to my heart. And maybe someday I'll do great things, maybe someday I'll conquer the world, but it doesn't matter too much, because I got people with love in their hearts and that's just beautiful.

So take it to your head, take it to your heart, and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

And God Bless.

The politics of the fool

I often repeat myself in sessions, often because a point reoccurs to me and I forgot that I dealt with it before, or in better cases because I figure out another angle on something. Now even in the latter case one must be careful lest laziness and the recursion of revisiting revisted topics lead to madness and rather poor reading, however, given the complexity of the human mind, a good topic often deserves more than one angle and more than one session to boot.

But who then can determine whether the booting requires the revisiting or whether upon that road lies madness, madness! I CAN, for I am Rand, the great and glorious.

And so I shall revisit the fool, or rather my fool-ness or fool-i-ocity, or if you insist on the grammatical, my foolishness.

I've dealt with the topic as an ideal (dedicated to God, of course), but let me now migrate a bit into the practical, or perhaps the pragmatic, or perhaps just the otherwise.

At this point in my life, I'm rather satisfied with the role of the fool, with some qualifications and ample wiggle room. Indeed, I do aspire to the path of the holy fool. However, it is not necessarily my natural role, largely because there is only a minor fraction of our souls presented in our outward faces, thus one can fit many of these fractions in a mind, and thus many roles can be elegantly natural.

That is to say, I can play other roles.

I can play the insistent idealist, the apathetic pragmatist, the careful politician, the passionate artist, the dedicated scientist, and the austere monk. And I do play these roles all from time to time, and more.

But when push comes to shove, my default face to the world is that of the fool. For better or for worse. For now.

I can justify this position in a variety of ways. I find it grating to take myself too seriously, moreover I find it grating to take others too seriously, yet I hate to offend, and I hate to cause trouble. But most importantly, the fool does tend to entertain.

This is a principle point. I like making people happy. I enjoy the happiness of others. I like interacting with happy people. And me playing the fool often makes people happy.

Though to be truthful sometimes I wonder, whether people actually do enjoy the act, and as importantly whether they like the sincerity behind it. Because as much as my fool-ness is an act, it is an act based on my thoughts and feelings, essentially it is me expressing myself. And in that sense, it is me being myself.

On the other hand, I could for example be myself by throwing myself 110% into writing, however... being a writer or an artist, while requiring one to draw upon others, is an essentially solitary craft. That's fine when I'm alone, but to make this the face I use to interact with others would risk pushing others into roles relative to my artistic drives and ambitions, denying them a real relationship based on mutual humanity. That is not to say others have not taken the writer role and ran with it, limiting its excesses so that their relationships are full and rich while mining its virtues for all that they can get... I'm just saying that as a public face, I don't think the writer is for me.

I could go through many other roles and pick them apart. I can also pick apart the role of the fool, for example the barriers it throws against me being taken seriously or being able to deal with people seriously.

What it comes down to, with the pluses and minuses, is how comfortable you are with dealing with the minuses, and how much you like the pluses, and ultimately, how much God wants you to follow that path. To be fair that's a lot of factors that are hard to figure out all in their wholeness. Hence one often bounces between things back and forth and finds revelations and insights and mistakes, and so on and so on, et al.

One thing you also fine with roles that fit you better or worse, is those that don't fit you at all. I've tried playing the counter-cultural, the over-achiever, the techie. Parts work alright for me, but I find only a minimal passion. Ususally to find some real satisfaction I need to mix it up with some foolishness.

And this is an aspect of my problems with my life at now. To say overall, I must say the work environment doesn't suit me well. I am every now and then able to pull out my fool card, but there's an essentially lacking element for me to comfortably play that role, or really any role with satisfaction. To have some satisfaction in my human interactions I must have some confidence that how I interact with people is either appreciated or at least enjoyed in a general sense, and I must have some confidence that my faux pas's, my miscalculated gestures, my inarticulate attempts at communication, these will be generally tolerated. That is actually a rather heavy demand to require of everyone, and so I don't. But for me that is the basis of a real, meaningful relationship, otherwise all you have is confused postering.

The work environment seems to lend itself to the confused postering. Afterall, a faux pas can get you fired. But moreover, there is this great ambiguity about relationships. What is the proper ettiquette of a professional relationship, what is too far, how do these relationships weigh and interact with other ones, how do these fit into life outside of work. It doesn't help that my professional role has no real need to inteact with anyone besides my boss, so what is the professional relationship of coworkers who have no professional need to interact. I am always perpetually insecure with my relationships, but with my professional relationships, I find it is a constant drain of stress. And this isn't the fault of anyone, this is just the nature of me and my circumstances.

Let me backtrack, with most people in the office, there is a degree to which they approach that mark of trust where I find my relationships both meaningful and comfortable, and there are some who are just easy to deal with and wonderful to be around. But as a whole... as a whole work is stress, there are times when it is less stressful, and I sometimes wonder if work could be otherwise... but then again, in the long run, perhaps that's irrelevant. Afterall, work is but so many hours, and life is so many more, and in those hours I should be able to find time to play the fool.

But then again I wonder... I am undecided the extent to which I want to write off some degree of comfortableness at work. Moreover, if I can hit that degree of comfortableness, there is a good chance that I harnest a general affection for the people at my office toward feeling more satisfied with work, and yet... It is all so complex, the hodgepodge of different emotions and thoughts that run an office's social ecosystem, and my tradition has been to step back and create my own social ecosystem when my frustration with my current one runs too high. But with work, I don't really have the option of stepping back...

But then what would the fool do? If I really do aspire to the path of the holy fool, what ought I do. More importantly, and in all seriousness what would Jesus do?

The answer is a path of love, but here's the question, does that path lead me deeper into the office-universe or further away?

I am not idle on this question, but I am ambivalent, but in the end, I am also awesome.

Which does give me the edge.

And so despite my confusion, despite my cowardly indecision, despite my frustration, I still must ask myself in the morning, how can I be a fool today?

So anywho, take it to your head, take it to your heart and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight folks!

And God Bless.

A meditation on Morrie

Something I wrote for a class on Tuesdays with Morrie, but an opinion which I still hold more or less today:

“Someone asked me an interesting question yesterday,” Morrie said now, looking over my shoulder at the wall-hanging behind me, a quilt of hopeful messages that friends had stitched for him on his seventieth birthday.  Each patch on the quilt had a different message: Stay the course, the best is yet to be, Morrie—Always No.1 in Metal Health!

What was the question I asked.

“If I worried about being forgotten after I died?”

Well?  Do you?

“I don’t think I will be.  I’ve got so many people who have been involved with me in close, intimate ways.  And love is how you stay alive, even after you are gone.”

p.133, Tuesdays with Morrie

 

I find that idea comforting, but ultimately I can’t believe it. Being remembered requires the people who know you spreading your name, otherwise when they die you will be forgotten.  Even if they do spread your name around your identity will become blurred after being passed down through generations.  Eventually, people will stop spreading the vague rumors of a man they never even knew and you will be forgotten.  The memory of a man can live on a generation in the memories of those who loved him, and perhaps can live on another generation in their children, but memories fade.  Few many people remember their great-great-great-great grandfather, and those that do are likely keepers of a family history that some unlucky afternoon will be burned in an unexpected blaze.  Few can remember everyone who his father befriended, and even fewer can remember those people in addition to the people his grandfather befriended.  Names fade over time, faces fade over time, and memories fade away, over time the memory of a man becomes scrambled, jumbled, or forgotten.  After a person dies they are forgotten, maybe not in the first generation, maybe not in the second generation, but as time goes on they vanish from the minds of man.

The memories of some men can find a degree of immortality in history.  Those who do great deeds their names are fused into our common heritage.  Genghis Khan, Alexander the Great, Mao, these men are ingrained within the memory of civilization.  Yet even these names can pass.  The history of man goes back in some cases 5,000 years, but the people whose memories survived all that time are hazy shadows of people, only known for being depicted on a temple wall.  The majority of figures, so incredibly famous in their own times have vanished, others are so entrenched in myth that they are no remembered only the legends.  Some emerge, but for how long will the history of mankind have room for them.  In another 10,000 years will they be remembered?  Perhaps, but maybe just as foot notes to those who did greater deeds.  How many great Khans have been forgotten under the shadow of Genghis Khan?  At the height of their power they might have been the greatest on earth, now their memories have vanished since the memory of Genghis Khan is so much more attractive.  Yet even his memory could be forgotten in another 10,000 years.  Ultimately, 10,000 years is nothing compared to all the years yet to come, and these great men have just bought themselves a little extra time before being forgotten.

The world forgets its heroes, it forgets its villains.  Times change and these things become irrelevant or at best academic.  The accomplishments of men, those too become blurred in the millions of years history.  If “the beating of a butterfly’s wings in Tokyo can eventually change the weather in New York City” (Bartleby.com) then a million years of butterflies can cause storms to destroy or mutate everything a man created.  Our legacies, the memories of our name are controlled by the fickle currents of time.  We cannot trust that our memory will go on after we die, we cannot trust our legacy will be remembered, all we can do is live a life we can be proud of and leave the rest to history.

Damn it didn't I tell you to Ultra-Relax!

I'm tempted time from time, moment from moment, to worry and think about what people think about me, whether or not I'm normal, whether or not I fit in and all that jazz (all that rotten jazz, rotten apple eating mean non-funky jazz monkey, etc. et al., and so on). But then I remember, always, always, tooooooooooooooooooooooooo

ULTRA-RELAX

Go Kodocha!

And here's the lyrics, via Naokochan (the notes are via spontaneous awesomeness)

Plenty of free time today and tomorrow
(oh so much time, got to webinate the web, but when you gotta be cool, you can find time to cool it up and cool it down)
Taking an overnight trip by the four of my family
(Because my family is awesome, they just are)
Seeing Sphinx with an Egyptian air
(Because more history=more better)
Seeing Texas with an American feeling!
(USA rules!!! But as nice as Texas is, Jersey rocks!!!)
Just be as cool as a cucumber
(mmmm, cucumber)
And laidback all the time
Then bugs in your stomach bugging you
Will just go off!
(those bugs (or maybe they're worms...) might be tempting, but just remember, ain't no bugs in this world that are really worth worrying about... after all, if God's with me, all the world's just a bitty bug ain't it?)
I'm ultra-relaxed
Gracefully, unbeatably relaxed
(Soooo relaxed, though my acid reflux, occasional breakdowns, frequent insomnia might argue different...)
Just a little bit different deluxe
Scatterbrained but...
(Scatterbrained who...something, something, scatterbraininess)
When you call me, "pah pah pah pahng"!
(That's my other name)
I'm always relaxed
Wabi-sabi-seasoned deluxe
(Because nothing's as relaxing as wasabi. Take it with some hot sauce to cool the tempers)
Bright! Clear! -Headed!
Brainy! Pitt! Pitt!
Watch no one but me!
(Because I'm awesome, and though I stress out over everything, but when push gets to pushy, I do become ULTRARELAX!!!)

Oh yeah!

So take it to your head, take it to your heart and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

And God Bless.

Jersey City here I am

What an odd turn of events. For most of my life Jersey City was a place existing but not a matter of thought. And here I am, living in Jersey City, few blocks away from Journal Square station. Damn, and last year I was wondering whether I was going to move to San Francisco. I go back further and I find this point in my life is even more unimaginable (I'm pretty sure that sentence lacked grammatical sense, but there's a gist of it that I think you can understand it).

Yet here I am. The mind reels.

I remember when I was in Elementary School and figured that I was going to be a doctor and then a politician. I suppose that would put me in Med School right now. But that figuring was based largely on a utilitarian consideration of what would best allow me to help people on a small scale and then on a large scale. Though the latter part of the dream, presidency, persisted with me for quite a while. And then there was the island...

But that's neither here or there, point is, despite various plans and schemes, and for many reasons, I graduated college with neither a plan or a profession and... something, something.

And so I found myself working with computers and stuff. And then I found myself doing an 1 1/2 hr. commute to NYC and neglected my life outside of that. And then I found myself unemployed. And then I found myself getting a new job. Dude. But then I still had the 1hr commute or so to Jersey City. And so hence I'm here.

Actually that all made perfect sense.

What makes less sense is my sense of purpose, et al., which was once quite a bit stronger. I dream dreams, it's what I do, and I have still some great ambitions, but I've come to terms with the fact that success is something that may come or may not, and I'm not terribly worried about it.

Which leaves me not terribly worried about much. Which bugs me. But then again, whenever my feelings fall upon that zone, I always end up remembering stuff.

I got family, friends, dreams to work on. I'm doing alright. And In those family, friends + dreams, I do have stuff requiring urgency et al.

Honestly, I have to say I have at times been neglectful of my friends, family, and perhaps even my dreams. But that's what tomorrow's for right?

And so raise a glass with me, mine will be filled with orange juice of course, and let me toast to all the girls I've ever loved and God, the founder of the feast.

So take it to your head, take it to your heart and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

And God Bless.

Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, I the fool

I think I have found my calling in life: to be a holy fool.

There is I think a demand for this sort of role, in recent time especially, as often narrowly worldly, often disguised as pragmatic or practical, wisdom is often preferred over the more truthful and divine. The holy fool, at least ideally, acts opposite to this condition, embracing with full force the very traits of the Lord's wisdom that appear foolish to the world or run counter to the world's wisdom.

For example, the holy fool ought enthusiastically love all people, considering them all as friends and even like family, (I'm not claiming my achievement of this, mind you but I'll get into that more later), or at least with that potential. The impression I get from the world at large is that this is an unnecessary indulgence, and a dangerous one at that. That it is acceptable and, indeed healthy, to hate and despise others. Even the potential for friendship is seen as something that must be earned and even then not necessarily allowed. But that attitude is backward to the holy fool, for the former is the way of the Lord, even if it appears foolish to the world.

I wish I could cite this example as one of my actual traits fully developed and perfected, but too often I am dismissive of others, sometimes I fall bitter to bitterness, and very often I hold back a degree of deserved intimacy from even those who I am closest too. So in regards to this open and honest love for all of God's people, no, here I do not measure up to the ideal of the holy fool.

But even great authors write crappy novels, and even great actors stink up the joint. (As Charlton Heston pointed out to Joey, "it's okay to stink, the one thing though that you must remember is NEVER take a shower in my dressing room"). However, the ideal of the great author encompasses a level of practice and craftsmanship that would make a crappy novel impossible, and a great actor ideally would act with such precision and talent that no character would be misplayed. But in reality all but God are fallible, and so even the greatest will admit to only imitating greatness. But in that quest to imitate that ideal, what glory, what grace can be achieved.

So it is with the holy fool. The ideal may only exist in the mind of dreamers and long-dead Russian novelists, but it is still worth chasing. I may not have reached the state of feeling only love and no hate like the holy fool, but I will try, and I will keep trying. For while this is very much a case of aiming for ht heavens, my father taught me that if you aim for the heavens you might at least be able to reach the gates.

Or else you may at least come close enough to grasp the Lord's outstretched hand, though for that one need not leap far, just to jump with hope, love and faith.

So take it to your head, take it to your heart and remember Rand rocks.

Goodnight Folks!

Chasing down infinity

Ever since I've started working time has ceased to function in a controllable manner for me. For example, I was convinced that the distance between the last time I blogged and now was much, much greater than a week, but in the end that is probably just a matter of my own feelings toward the last week. Still, overall, I've often lost track of the passage of time.

The worst cases of this have been me losing track of a day in the week. While usually not involving vital matters, I sometimes put off obligations till later in the week and if I suddenly realize it's a day later than I thought it was, that track is thrown completely out of wack (YO!). However, ironically this situation is unlikely to cause me major problems BECAUSE it is caused by a lack of major incidents in the week.

My co-worker actually mentioned he enjoyed this ambiguity of time because it allowed him to wake up one morning and say "Awesome, it's Friday", but I find the matter rather frustrating, especially since my weekends seem to flee quickly as well.

That is not to say all my work has been so much fun time is just flying by. Some of my work, though less so at my current position than my former, has been annoying and tedious, and mind-bogglingly slow to pass. Rather, there is a sort of uniformity to my days.

Perhaps this is normal, perhaps this is nothing to complain about, but my days seem essentially similar lately, I do some work, talk friendly-like with my co-workers, maybe talk to some friends, talk to my family, do some writing, maybe do some personal programming, watch tv, do some musing on the universe, et al., and then done for the night.

It's not a bad life by any means, and while that overall is a pretty good day, having every day like that is a little off-putting. Essentially, while this is a good life it is not my life, and more distressingly, it is not moving toward being my life.

That I suppose is what's really getting to me, my life is just a bit too still, in a place where I cannot remain. It's like you're putting a tiger into a very nice zoo who has lived all his life in the wild, maybe some tigers might like living in the zoo, maybe if he had lived in the zoo all his life he would love living there, but in the end, he's like a bird and he only flies away.

And it occurs to me that I must fly away as well.

Sooner or later that is, I will move, but it is naive to assume that a change in scenery necessitates a change in life, especially if you're looking for a change for the better. Indeed it may just be that moving will just cut me off more from my family without any gain. My desire to move is primarily, though not solely, motivated by a desire for me-time, however, for that me-time to be meaningful and not just wasteful self-indulgence (there's me time where you do stuff you want to do and do stuff your way, and there me time where you're just spending time alone, the latter is not nearly as useful as the former), I need to start moving on the things that I consider MY work. Ie, writing, programming, this blog, a website maybe, my family tree project, etc.,etc., and so on. I have more than enough of these projects, and I do work on them, however, just working on them, that's not really moving forward, afterall I have had projects all my life and will have for all my life. No, it is time to start pushing for completion of projects. It is time to start working for triumph.

On the other side of things though, well, there are two matters that are more lasting and long-term solutions, but of, well, long-term nature, and also of questionable occurrance. That is, finding a job/community where I feel at home and finding a soul-mate. The two I think are intimately related, since the latter can bind me to the former, although it is also possible that the two might come separately or even though separate the one may lead to the other. I have to be careful in these matters though, because your community and your mate are essential parts of your identity and indeed your soul. You can't be arbitrary about these things nor can your rush things, no matter how much you may like to.

I might be guilty of attempting the latter sin last week, because it feels so good to have a community and a soul-mate, on the other hand, I might be accused of throwing a chance at both away due to cowardice. It is a tricky matter to parse, but probably that is best saved for another session.

Let me sum all of this up, because I can't really sense an essential form or reason to these ramblings, I feel the danger of stagnation, and I am going to start swimming to small landmarks up ahead, as well as to the greater horizon, even though I am uncertain of both the strength of my arms as well as the honestly of my vision. But hey, one must be willing to lose his or her life to save it.

So take it to your head, take it to your heart and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

And God Bless.

Rand's Adventures in Job Land

People often mistake me for someone who is competent in social matters. I am not so, and in general to maintain my relationships to a degree that I find satisfactory, I need to reserve a store of effort and energy out of my other activities devoted to friends and family. However, I have found that despite repeated experience I still seem to make the same mistakes of allowing my friendships fade during moments of stress (which does not help the stress). It is a pattern I need to work on getting rid of.

So to be short, I would like to apologize to most of my friends for withdrawing into myself with little outside contact for this last month or two. I do have a reason for this, that is I had been immensely distracted by the process of losing my last job and getting a new one (which starts Monday). Still, as reasons go, that seems rather lame. I think as a principle I need to start taking more time out of my life to talk and hang out with my friends. I'm not sure how to push myself in that regard beyond a simple wish, but it is a wish that I am going to invest some effort in my immediate future.

In addition to that I have other goals for the future. Of course doing well at my new job, but also embarking on new creative efforts and restarting others, such as my blog: http://therandshow.blogspot.com .

So it seems I have picked out a good deal to keep me busy in the future. Ah, well, I think that suits me well. For some periods I have spent much of my time worrying about the future and concentrating on the necessities, while others I have embarked on many ambitious goals with some succeeding and others failing. And I have found the latter a preferable way to live.

After all, as my father often quoted for me, if you aim for the heavens, at the very least you might reach the gates.

People, something vague and grandiose

It is a mark of my ambivalence about the subject that I cannot even summon up a specific vague and grandiose statement about it. But I love people. They're good folk. Especially friends and such. But they do fill me up with immense and often agonizing amounts of anxiety. Friends and such less so. Usually I don't find friends as discomfort producing. Ah, but here's the rub, I like being around my friends, but the act of contacting them, creating a contact as opposed to simply being exposed to one, there's a big anxiety creator. But hey, no pain, no gain. And I must gain the glory, for I am Rand the Great and Glorious!!!

Have Mojo, Will Travel

So let's raise a toast to women: The cause of and solution to all of life's problems.

So a girl for, well, let's say I've had a crush on (I really hate the word crush, it is far too immature for feelings that can be a serious matter, and yet the feelings aren't strong enough to be declared love), well, she has a boyfriend. I thought that might be the case, but she had been out of the country for so long, well, the matter is thus. And so now I must bring this to an end, somewhat.

She's still my friend and a good friend at that. To be honest I wanted to spend more time with her because I thought there was a potential for a relationship. But I also like to spend time for her because it's just fun to spend time with her. I've been worrying about telling her how I feel about her because it might hurt our friendship. That was the case in my first heartbreak (who ironically (no actually this is in no way ironic, just a conwinkidink) lives near the girl I currently have a crush on (ie the girl who's the main topic of this post)). And although it might be a little uncomfortable at times now (at least I haven't seen her and her boyfriend together this semester, feelings usually only get really uncomfortable when you see PDA's (public displays of affection)), at least she doesn't really know how I feel about her. This means she won't be really uncomfortable around me, nor will I have to explain myself, and it gives me much more control over our relationship (I'm using that in the general sense of the word).

I'd hate to be the kind of guy who gets close to a girl just because he has a crush on her and then once she lets him down he forgets that she existed. That would be a truly assish thing to do. A good friendship is a terrible thing to waste. And so I do not intend to waste this friendship, but still, it all feels a bit weird. I'm actually glad to some degree, because feelings like those are a bit of a burden and it's probably easier to try to craft a relationship fresh instead of tweaking a friendship into a romance. But still, I had liked the idea of us getting together, and you can't dismiss feelings by flicking your fingers.

But I'm not going to try to steal another man's girlfriend, it's disrespectful to the other man, but also to the girl, herself. It has an essence of, you're all wrong about your life choices, to it, but moreover it's painfully disruptive to all involved. And she seems to have real feelings for her boyfriend (she has met his parents, so this is something significant), so 99% chance I lose against him, and then I'm miserable and our friendship is hurt. 1% chance I win against him, he's crushed, she's with me but torn, and it's an ugly situation. Plus the whole sinful nature of the business. I mean, a dating romance (the terminology of dating is really lackluster, I think I might have to invent some words) isn't a marriage, so this isn't an adultery class sin by any means, but it's certainly a jerk class sin and a sin against God as well. Even romantic relationships not sealed by marriage have a holiness to them that shouldn't be lightly trifled with.

So what to do with the feeling eh? Again, I'm almost relieved, but I feel in the pit of my soul a feeling that probably soon will blossom into sorrow. It'll suck, but I'll put it out of my mind. Whenever I think of her, some romantic thoughts might be hovering in the background, but I'll put those out of my mind too. I'll keep doing this until the feelings fade. I doubt they'll truly erase themselves until I actually find another girl, but they should become manageable. I actually had to do this same process for her freshmen year when I started getting feelings for her. Then I found out she had a boyfriend, and besides she left the country. But I was so sure she had broken up with her boyfriend in that long interval abroad, but I guess that wasn't the case.

I shouldn't say unfortunately that wasn't the case, because I guess I'm happy for her. I complain a lot about how lonely I am and how I wish I had a romantic partner, she found one, so good for her. As for me I'll move on.

After all, you can always say this about me: Have Mojo, Will Travel.

So, why don't we lift a glass to women, those impossibly enchanting creatures?

Why not lift a glass to all the girls I've ever loved and all those I've had crushes on?

Why not lift a glass to you, girl whom I had a crush on which now must be dismissed and tossed to the wind?

Actually, I'm drinking out a cup, not a glass, but here's to you.

So anyways, take it to your head, take it to your heart, and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

Shaving the Tom

Here's a little piece of work from the archieves (mine, not the website's, certainly not yours, and not MMR's, although one day...).

Shaving the Tom
by Rand

It was late at night, but I was reading a book of some sort and so the hour had become irrelevant. My roommate Tom was fiddling around with his computer, surfing the web or something of the like. The dorm room was small, but our activities were modest and so it was enough. It wasn't decorated terrifically, but Tom had put up a poster or two, slightly livening up the dull whiteness of the walls. There was only a small corridor between the mess originating from my side of the room and the one originating from his side. It was walkable for a few people, but not for many. My mess was more newspapers and books than anything else, his was more interesting, it had magazines, weights, DVDs, and other accessories of a less geeky man. We did not have a great room, but it served our purposes, which were modest, especially that evening. For once, the floor seemed to complement that modesty with silence. Most of our floormates were asleep and the others had their doors closed, and for once there was no poker in the lounge. But of course, there were a few others who like us did not respect sleep.

We kept our door closed normally as a matter of privacy and at night we kept it locked so that we wouldn't have to lock it as we each slowly lost the will to remain awake. But we knew that at any moment of the day or night a poker game could break out on our floor so we responded to any knock promptly and without suspicion. That night was no different and when there was a knock we bore none. He was a big man, both in girth and height, although he was not fat and there was obviously a lot of strength to him. I don't think he would be afraid to open the door in the middle of the night any where in the world, and since I was lazy, he was the one to answer the knock. He undid the lock and opened the door with a somewhat sleepish look on his face, but that look was instantly dispelled when he saw what was in the hallway. What replaced it was a feverish excitement as he tried in vain to push the door closed. But it was too late, the two men on the other side succeeded in forced it open. The two were Chris F. (there were two other Chris's on our floor) and Bill, two of mine and Tom's friends from the floor, often they came to our door to talk or play cards, but this time they held a chair and a razor and both Tom and I knew that their intention was neither to talk nor to play cards.

Tom was a rather average looking man, he was big, but he had a conventional haircut topped with a hat and framed by glasses. However, he did have one noticeable feature, long sideburns, ones long enough to invite playful jokes and on this occasion a forceful shaving. They instantly attempted to hold down Tom, but Tom was not one to lose his sideburns without a fight. Chris was a big man in his own right, again not fat and with a good deal of strength, Bill was skinnier but he prided himself on his solidly muscular physique, but even combined they were no match for Tom, a competitive weight-lifter. The fight was epic. Chris and Bill first went for Tom's arms, but he managed to throw Bill to the bed. Chris was more resilient but he too was forced off. Bill grappled him again and Chris managed to get the razor near Tom's face but Tom was able to break out of Bill's hold and knock away the razor. Both Chris and Bill refused to quit but it looked like Tom would in fact defeat two of the strongest men on our floor. However, at that moment, another floormate of ours, Bryan, a less athletic man but still strong and very committed to a good joke, passed by the door and decided to join in. Still Tom proved difficult to capture. Although his attackers surrounded him on all sides, he managed to keep them aside with powerful punches. In the process, chairs were knocked over, the messes on each side of our room merged and were scattered, and bruises were accumulated, but eventually through sheer persistence, Tom was worn down enough that Chris, Bill and Bryan were able to hold him still. Then they realized that they had lost the razor. Bryan searched through the mess, and I, before just an amused observer, joined in. We tore apart my room, moving beds and tables, throwing papers onto mine and Tom's beds, and slowly acquiring pieces of the razor until it was restored to usable condition. Then Bryan slowly approached Tom and after giving him a bit of shaving cream on one side, ran the razor down his left sideburn, cutting it away entirely. At that point Tom exploded out of Chris and Bill's grip and again knocked away the razor. For a moment the men stared at each other, but Chris, Bill, and Bryan decided that their point had been made. Tom had surely now learned that the price of a ridiculous hair style was the risk of a midnight shaving. We all laughed, and started gathering up the pieces, all of us that is except Tom who simply collapsed onto his bed, his energy completely and utterly spent.

I tell this story to my friends and family as a fond memory and it is. But I always wonder, could I have joined in on the fun? I enjoy a good prank and a good fight, and I surely would have enjoyed participating in the shaving, and Tom bore no ill will to Chris, Bill or Bryan, so I would be safe on that front. But I was uncertain whether Tom and I were good enough friends for me to help with that prank, and honestly I was unsure if I was good enough friends with his attackers to participate in the prank. That is why the memory, although fond, still reminds me of the uncertainty that marks my relationships with my friends, and demonstrates why I do not fight or pull pranks, despite the fact that I enjoy both. But to analyze this memory too much I think would do it a disservice, in the end it was what it was, a dumb, fun, hilarious college prank that gives me a smile every time I recall it.

Quotable, boatable, John

I think perhaps it has come time to if not lighten up the atmosphere a little bit, at least I should tangentilize the atmosphere a little bit, because I am a wild tangent, ready to rock your world, etc., etc. (you know etc. usually means and all else in the same manner but I'm not sure you really know what else follows the same manner as I am a wild tangent, ready to rock your world, well too bad, you BUMMMMMMMS!!!!!)

Anywho, or any moo for that matter, I thought in that spirit I'd give you some quotes of various peoples and peoplenesses for a little break in the flow of things as it were (so much of what I have just said is absolute nonsense, so very, very much nonsense, anyways, here's some quotes):

Freedom is a possession of inestimable value. - Cicero, a great sentiment, but I think I could probably find sometime a better quote

"History drives her lovers mad,"-Rand

"And so does your face,"-Rand

"No—Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men."

"Everyone suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues, and this is mine: I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known."

"I'm... too old to lie to myself and call it honor."

"Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter - tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther … And one fine morning -

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

"One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, 'Of all the commandments, which is the most important?'

'The most important one,' answered Jesus, 'is this: 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these.'" - The Gospel according to Mark, Chapter 12

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."

"And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."- 1 Corinthians 13, St. Paul

"If you were x, I would be x squared over 2, because I want to be the area beneath your curves."-TE

"I shall rule the world!"-Rand

"I like to quote myself, because I'm just that awesome."-Rand

"I am Rand the mighty and glorious, and I am also might and glorious in a very mightly and gloriousily fashion. I AM RAND!" - Rand

Paranoia, never what you want it to be

I do believe I'm paranoid. Well, maybe paranoid is the wrong word, actually it almost certainly is the wrong word, but in my head it's been associated with my feelings for so long that I can't really think of describing these certain feelings in any other way really. Well these feelings are basically I imagine myself having the worst attributes I can think of, everything I'm afraid of in people I imagine myself having. Moreover, I imagine other people see these things in me. I'm always questioning what other people think of me when I'm talking to them, and I'm always tempted to interpret their actions as comfirmation of these feelings. Take for example a recent IM chat I had. Every time there was a delay in the person's reply I suspected in was because of their secretly hating me and becoming frustrated and deciding just to ignore me, and every reply I got even when prompt I suspected as just being an excuse to try to get rid of me. So I've got those feelings.

And yet, I can deal with them. Over time I've come to realize more and more that in the end I am the master of my mind. Even if I have these feelings and even if they are frustratingly annoying, I can ignore them and press on with my life. I just got to keep on truckin' and so that is what I intend to do.

So cute girl, where does your mind lie

Good evening, fellows and females. Let me make a little description. I know this girl (this is not the girl who I mentioned in a previous session I had a crush on, while I would not be opposed to dating this girl, I don't really have those kind of feelings for her, she is simply a friend of mine, who stands out in my memory because of a particular attribute that I would assign to her) who can be and almost certainly often is described as cute. I want my description to be vague enough that no one, most especially the girl in question will suspect who I am describing (if I was asked by that girl if it was her I would tell her the truth, this is a matter I would like to remain secret, but not so much that I would lie about it). Anyways, she is cute. I do not mean that in the general beautiful way, but rather in cute as in, I dunno, pretty, darling, or lovely but not necessarily sexy. I mean she is attractive, and she is not not-sexy or manish but she is not particularly prominent in the respects where you usually would assign sexiness (well, I'm not really sure on that point, I haven't made a detailed lookover of her).

She has a pretty face, a small frame, a good natured and friendly spirit, amusing, sometimes silly, and well, cute habits, and an innocent way about her. There are also other matters that render her to most cute, including some which are probably unfair, but which I will refrain from getting into due to my desire to preserve her anonymity. Now in general I have no problem with cuteness, I often enjoy it in media, objects, animals and people. I do get annoyed when cuteness disguises a lack of substance or is overdone to the point of annoyance, excess, or obsession. I also get annoyed when an obession on cuteness is a limiting factor on someone, becoming a facade they must maintain or reducing their intelligence to that of an infant. I feel that is a problem among women's culture in many parts of the world and sub-cultures. None of these problems with over-cuteness plague the girl I am talking about (at least given how much I know about her, which is a decent amount but not that much, but how much can one ever really know about another person? (Even taking that limit into consideration I'd still have to stick with I know a decent amount about her but not that much)).

She is overall a nice girl, a good catch. While I am not especially given to dating her now, it would not seem strange to find out that somewhere down the road of life we got together. Now I don't know really how this hypothetical relationship would work, but if it was one where piercingly personal questions were the norm or at least could be asked in a direct manner, I would ask her what being cute was really like. Did she enjoy being cute? Did her cuteness ever feel like a burden? Did her cuteness, even when positive, get in the way of the image she wanted to project? These are serious questions that I wonder about, because when a person has an attribute that is exceptionally prominent, often it is difficult or impossible for that person to turn that attribute off. And sometimes an attribute, even one such as cuteness, can be annoying to be associated with, can overshadow a message you want to get across, or can carry with it its own responsibilities. If I could I might ask her if it was like being funny?
That's an attribute that I've had to deal with. It's a positive attribute, undoubtably, but I never really intended to have it. I always rather wanted to be cool or reliable, but perhaps much more than those two qualities I am funny. This attribute sometimes makes it difficult for me to make a serious point and sometimes it carries with it a responsibility to entertain. But overall I like being funny, the burden it carries, while at times considerable is never overwhelming, and it is counteracted by the joy I get at making other people happy. I would like to be serious, cool, and known for greatness and glory, but I suppose I'll simply try to be all that in addition to being funny. I wouldn't want to leave behind an ability to chase away worries or draw out smiles simply for glory, it's too precious to me. I wonder if cuteness is like that. Or perhaps it's a different beast all together. While at times I can act cute, I don't really have a cute appearance, and overall I'm more eccentric than cute, and I certainly am not as cute as the girl I have been describing. If I really wanted to have an idea about what being cute was like I'd probably have to ask her, but that's a question that does not lend itself to most conversations, so I may have to wait a long time for the right opportunity to occur for me to ask the question. And perhaps that opportunity will never occur. Alas, but there will always be the mysteries of the places other people's minds do tred, and perhaps this cute girl's mind's place of rest will never be known to me.

That's all I have to say about that, for now at least. So anyways, take it to your head, take it to your heart, and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!

I get by with a little help from my friends

I suppose I do. Maybe. I tend to exaggerate my loneliness. Boo hoo, nobody invites me to their parties, etc. But I do have a good deal of loneliness. Just now something brought it up, so I'm not sure I'm in a good position to write about it objectively, but hey, the rants that compose these sessions were never promised as objective (well, some of them might be). But this does not bear a promise of objectivity (and any promise of objectivity that may come up is void in Tennesse (Simpson joke, watch the old episodes, watch them!!!)). Anyways, the event (and I want to be careful not to mention names or any personal details tht might hint at the identity of the people involved, because honestly, that seems kind of jerkish to me) was that I noticed that a friend of mine went on a trip without telling me. I thought we were decently close and so I would be told about it. But really, thinking upon it closer I realize we aren't that close, and that makes me sad. Maybe she did actually tell me and I didn't remember, which again would imply we weren't that close.

This is a lot to make of a little issue really, but the point is that it demonstrates something bigger. Not too big though, but bigger, maybe like medium big, like a 1/2 pound burger. Or maybe a little bit bigger than that, maybe it's in full pound burger range. It comes down to the fact that I have few strong social relations. I have a couple close friends with whom I have maintained contact with over the years, only two or three really, but even with them, it's more of IM chatting than weekly or even necessarily monthly meetings. That bothers me. I mean, I have a wider range of pretty good friends and aquaintences with whom I'm on good terms, but overall my social contact isn't that great. And I have no girlfriend and honestly, I haven't ever been on a real date, so on that front I have loneliness going on as well. It sucks to be lonely.

But what perhaps worries me more is the fact that it doesn't suck that much. In high school I had constant contact with my friens, even if it was only in the hallways and classes, but in college that isn't necessarily so (although I have a good roommate and at least have social contact with him). What I've been finding (and what I've found in the summers when I didn't have such contact), is that while I want to be social, and I want to have friends that I meet with regularly, I don't really need that. I can exist just doing work, reading, writing hopefully as well (although there have been long stretches with little of that), watching tv, etc. Without writing, going to the library, watching good movies and tv, etc. I might be disatisfied with my life, but if say I did all that and maybe submitted some stuff to publication, I'll be pretty happy, even if I am completely isolated, and that scares the hell out of me.

Because I want to around people, I love people abstractly, but I also love being around people, talking to people, helping people, etc. I'm not sure I've really conveyed that in this blog but now you know (though perhaps now you know too much, prepare to die, bwah, ha, ha, ha). But I don't need people, and honestly, I think just social contact isn't enough to satisfy my life alone, at least in the long term.

I am overemphasizing my isolation probably. I have my family, I have a few great friends, and many people I'm good with talking too. I'm asocial, but not anti-social. Still, asociality bothers me, but actually not that much. It makes me sad, and when depressed, it makes me very sad, but I can be ok with it. I am feeling empty, emotionless, motivationless now, and part of that is probably that my social contacts can't generate enough motivation to give me satisfaction in life. I suppose the social contact of a girlfriend or if I had a dependent might be enough but other than that, I'm going to need something else. I love people, but they aren't enough for me. Well, no that isn't true, my goals in life give me satisfaction because they help people, as well as for other reasons, but just social contact with people isn't enough. And that bothers me, but not that much. Well, it perhaps bothers me now more than other times, because looking at my life I can find little else of meaning than my few, but strong, social relationships.

But I guess that's just something I need to deal with. We all have our problems, and this is mine, not too huge, but not insignificant, that's life for you, well not for you, that's life for me. That's enough for this session.

So take it to your head, take it to your heart, and remember Rand rocks. Goodnight Folks!