hthemc

[hthemc]

I don't have any words. I cried at work today, and I'm not even a member of most of the groups that will be most strongly affected by this decision. It will be a while before I can sort through how I feel and what this all means. I don't have any words, but at least some of my favorite authors do. May they help you as well. - - - "It is important,' Dumbledore said, 'to fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then could evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated." -J.K. Rowling "I know how you feel,' I said. 'You run into something you totally don't get, and it's scary as hell. But once you learn something about it, it gets easier to handle. Knowledge counters fear. It always has." -Jim Butcher "I can't do this, Sam.' 'I know. It's all wrong, by rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were, and sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come, and when the sun shines it will shine all the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances to turn back, only they didn't. Because they were holding on to something.' 'What are we holding onto, Sam?' 'That there's some good in this word, Mr. Frodo. And it's worth fighting for." -Adapted from J.R.R. Tolkien

[hthemc]

Thoughts

The thought drifted through the window on an errant breeze.

Absentmindedly, I slowly moved my hand and let it drift to a gentle landing. Thoughts are skittish things, to be sure.

I finished the paragraph, and placed the book back down on my desk. I turned my attention to the thought.

It seemed tentative, mustering up the courage to speak. I avoided eye contact but calmly lifted it closer to my ear.

"Please, sir, I'm but the smallest figment of the truth. I know it's utterly presumptuous, but I was wondering...?" The modest voice trailed off.

It sometimes felt that, if I focused hard enough, I could sense the nigh-imperceptible weight of thoughts when they rested like so upon my palm. A flutter sometimes, even. I assumed it was more wishful thing, or a psychosomatic projection of my mind, but part of me believed nonetheless. This was one of those times.

I sighed, but not so hard as to alarm the thought. It sometimes baffled me that so many gave away some precious little things so freely, that even common parlance valuated them at a mere penny. Horrifying, really.

I closed my eyes, and focused on the space of the thought. Breathed in, breathed out...and focused.

A couple chapters later, I considered pausing again, considered opening up a word processor. But no, this could wait. The thought was still small, meager. Give it time, I thought. It would let me know when the moment was right.

[hthemc]

Whoo!

[hthemc]

'Dear person I hate' (if you'd like to answer.)

Much like how Rin’s (wtfml) question got about a half-hour’s drive worth of car thinking time devoted to it, this question got a full Shower Thinking Time (TM) because it actually wasn’t all that easy.

So, easy cop-out answer is: there really isn’t anyone.

However, it’s an interesting question, and I’m loathe to let a chance for introspection and overly long replies get away from me, so let’s dig deeper.

At a basic level, hate’s a pretty strong word, as they say. I’ve certainly felt deep, temporary surges of anger towards people, including people I generally love and care about. I’ve probably even used the word “hate” to describe such feelings at the time, such as “I hate it when people [x].” However, considered more calmly and rationally, I don’t think that’s really hate.

With that said, there are certainly people whom I have hated. I think, though, that I approach such people in a fairly healthy way that I don’t think is problematic: if I hate someone, I do my best to get them out of my life and then stop thinking about them.

So yes, there have been people—individuals in college, individuals who have hurt those I love and care about, and perhaps most recently a pair of moronic, hateful, and despicable professors that have no business anywhere in academia, let alone in any position where they can affect people who have no choice but to interact with them. However, I typed all that without feeling much emotion—it’s essentially factual for me at this point. There’s no person I think of and feel angry about in my life at this point in time. I’m sure there will be again in the future, but at the moment a letter addressed according to the question would reach no one.

I think it’s interesting, because I think there’s certain aspects of certain people I do hate. But I can differentiate between hating how someone acts in a particular instance, or towards a particular someone else, from hating that person in total. Everyone has flaws, and I know the way I act or think will likely generate hatred in people who know me, although I naturally hope that’s rare.

Maybe more than anything, I hate not individual people, but general trends and traits of humanity. I hate how easily some people can look down upon others, and brush off the struggles of others with no attempt to empathize or truly understand the plight they find themselves in. I hate how easily people can judge others for the choices they make, or aspects of themselves outside of their control. I hate how casual, unintentional cruelty is a common occurance. I hate how the anonymity of the internet has revealed how many people behave when they believe their actions have no ramifications. I hate the idea that anyone can seriously tell another living, human being to “go kill yourself” over something as trivial and meaningless as a competitive online match. I hate how unthinking, uncaring, and unapologetic so much of the human race is. Perhaps most of all, I hate that I have likely done some of the things I condemn even now, if only unconsciously.

But, as I said before, I can differentiate certain actions from the gestalt whole. I think humankind is often stupid, yes, and that we’re unreasonably convinced that everything will just work out no matter what we do, but I also recognize there is great potential within us, and for every act of evil and hate I see, likely good acts occur of which I’m not aware. Perhaps hate is in order—after all, if we did not feel strongly against certain actions, people, or deeds, we would not feel compelled to speak out or act against them. I do not know if I believe love is simply the flipside of the coin when it comes to hate, but I do think hate serves its purpose. I do not think it wise to center your life around what you hate, to focus too strongly on it, or to let it control your life, but I likewise do not think feeling it is inherently a bad thing.

Hope that answers your question :-)

[hthemc]

Dear person I'm jealous of

I don’t know you, and it’s possible I will never know you, for you aren’t even really an individual.

We live in an age of technological wonder. I can pull out a tiny device and access practically all of the knowledge of humankind by typing a few non-physical buttons, or speaking verbally to a inanimate device that nonetheless interprets my words. I can flick to another screen, and instantly communicate with friends who live thousands of miles away, and even have their face appear in real-time on the screen. Another flick, and any number of things are available to me.

We live in an age of peace and prosperity. While not anywhere close to perfect, and one where the need to improve has not anywhere close to gone away compared to many decades and centuries before I lived… I can walk around most places in complete safety, I can travel the world with relative ease, I have no fear of not having access to food, medicine, and water. I have the luxury to pursue a career I like and the time to pursue hobbies and personal interests.

Our understanding of technology and science is expanding an an exponential rate. I’ve seen radical shifts in the tools we use in day-to-day life in my lifetime alone, and can already see the changes it is causing on our society and culture. I’ve seen things I’ve only dreamed out, such as self-driving cars, augmented reality, and in-home virtual reality, become not on theoretically possible but actually demoed early prototypes and know they’ll not just be available in my lifetime, but in a matter of years. That’s incredible.

And yet…

And yet I grew up on stories of sci-fi, of technology that appears like magic, of teleportation and matter creation and faster-than-light speed technology. Of travelling not just across the world, but across star systems and even galaxies. Of technologies that might as well be magic, for how impressive and wondrous they are.

And yet I know that despite how much I think the current age we live in may be the pinnacle of existence to this point, many people likely thought this at various other periods, and it’s highly likely that things will only get better.

And yet I know that while I will likely continue to enjoy and experience as our society progress, both culturally and scientifically, I will never truly get a chance to travel the stars, to pilot a space-fighter like my younger self once dreamed, to be like the heroes of the stories I read as a youth.

So you, yet-unborn child who may have the chances that I could only but dream about: you are the one I am jealous of. I am not unhappy with when I was born, and the chances and experiences I have had and will likely continue to have. And perhaps it’s the fate of all humans to be so, to dream only of things that may never come to pass. Perhaps, even, rather than a Star Trek-like utopia you will instead inherit a Terminator-like technological singularity apocalypse. Perhaps I am lucky and actually do live at the pinnacle of humankind’s existence.

But that doesn’t stop me from imagining, and wondering, and feeling the pangs of jealousy of what my children, my children’s children, or somewhere further might get to experience that which I only felt while asleep. I am quite happy with my life, but if I’m jealous of anyone, it is you.

"I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time… like tears in rain…"

[hthemc]

4, 17, 19, 24, 53

4. What’s something you really want right now? In the immediate sense? I’d like for all my stuff to be magically in my new place so I don’t have to personally move it all. It being outfitted with awesome furniture for free would also be nice. On a more realistic note, and as embarrassing as it may be to write this out: to meet a girl I connect with in the important ways, and can be physically and emotionally intimate with.

17. How long have you known your 1st phone contact? I’ve known Gameli for about 2.5 years! Easy because I met him at the start of my grad program. However, he got imported as a Facebook contact and I don’t actually have a number for him despite it showing up on my phone’s contact list. So if we’re going with contacts with actual phone numbers, I’ve literally known Austin since he was born (so 22 years, 1 month, 4 days) since, y’know, he’s my younger brother.

19. Would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes? Man this is something I’ve given a lot of thought to, but I suspect a lot of people have. I think if it boils down to a simple yes or no, then yes. However, this would assume I would have to get to know the girl again, see if the things that brought us together the first time were still true, and if the things that drove us apart have disappeared because of how one or both of us has changed in the interim. It certainly wouldn’t be something I’d do casually, but since I think most of my relationships, if not all, were in sum positive experiences there’s no reason to categorically dismiss the possibility of it happening. With that said, I don’t think that’s anywhere near likely.

24. Is there a certain quote you live by? So this is probably going to sound really stupid, but there’s a trio of them from Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann that have always resonated with me, those being: - “Go beyond the impossible and kick reason to the curb!” - Most of the incredibly long-titled song that starts “Rappu ha Kan no Tamashii da!” and opens with “Do the impossible, see the invisible” etc. - “Believe in yourself. Not the you who believes in me. Not the me who believes in you. Believe in the you that believes in yourself.”

On the one hand, they’re all kind of stupid, and while I absolutely adore TTGL it’s not exactly the epitome of wisdom and deep thoughts. However…it is kind of how I like to try and live my life. I like challenging myself, I don’t like believing anything is truly impossible for me if I’m willing to try hard enough. I tend to have faith in my own abilities, and I try my best to see the same in others and encourage them when I can. While we very often talk about “having” to do things, or being “forced” to act a certain way for one reason or another, we are ultimately masters of our destiny as long as we’re willing to face the consequences. I’d rather be upbeat, optimistic, and throw myself at whatever challenge may come my way than anything else. I certainly do not always succeed at this, to be sure, and it’s been more of a struggle last year than most, but I still do tend to default things will always work out as long as I keep trying. There are certainly other quotes that have resonated with me, either because they match what I already believed or they made me reconsider how I act, but I guess it’s telling that none of the other ones come to mind and these did.

53. Are goodbyes hard for you? Surprisingly, no. I think in general I assume that if I like someone enough that a goodbye would theoretically be hard, that I’m going to see them again. I think this has been backed up by some surprisingly hard evidence—a lot of people I met in my study abroad semester in Vienna I’ve since seen again, both in the States and back in Europe. I was surprisingly unsad when leaving Munich this past year—a lot of people seemed surprised I seemed not more upset about it, but as I told them, I was not convinced that it was goodbye forever. It’s entirely possible that in some cases it *was* actually a final goodbye, but it’s not an assumption I make or dwell on. Especially in this age of online communication, if it’s someone I want to stay in contact with, it’s not particularly hard. Now, if I knew for certain I was saying goodbye to someone for the last time ever, for whatever reason, I suspect that would get to me as much as the next person, but I’ve yet to have that happen thankfully.

[hthemc]

Dear ex best friend!

You know who you are. The sadder part, I suspect, is that in my life the title isn’t limited to just you.

The name, honestly, isn’t important. You aren’t the only one who shares it, and when I hear the same name in other contexts it does not send the tiniest of jolts through my mind the way the name in relation to you does. No, you are far more than just a name to me, but that label still carries a lot of weight. Maybe it always will.

What I do know is I trusted you completely, felt comfortable telling you practically anything, held no doubts that nothing I could do could sever the bonds we had.

Turns out, I was wrong. But even though it’s a mistake I’ve made multiple times, and a mistake that makes me doing it again next time even harder— I seem to keep doing it anyway. Maybe one day I’ll stop. I’m not sure if that will be a good day.

I’d like to think I wasn’t at fault. I would like to believe the majority of the blame rests with you. This is certainly not true, and even more importantly I suppose there’s not much point in placing blame.

Certainly many people fill the list of those I am no longer in contact with, for one reason or the other. But the finality of our final conversations, the knowledge that such silence is not easily broken like with most people—that’s what stands outs.  

I know compared to how many relationships end, with drama and violence and pettiness, that I escaped relatively unharmed. By many standards, just a gradual and mutually agreed (kind of) cessation of communiacation is positively healthy. But then again, comparing your situation to those of others doesn’t really help in the long run—this I know.

Do I blame you? Not really, you did what you thought was best for yourself, and I could hardly ask anyone not to.

Do I blame myself? Also, surprisingly, not much anymore. Certain actions, certain words, yes—but overall, no.

Perhaps such things were inevitible. Perhaps our relationship could have been salvaged, or even prolonged, but maybe hitting this point where the core differences between you and me became too telling was bound to happen. It’s a disturbing thought, to be sure, but it’s certainly one that could be true.

I often wonder, if I were to contact you today, what would happen. I don’t even know where to start. I don’t even know what you would think. I know we’ve both likely changed too much to ever regain what we once had, and I’m not actually sure I can change my perspective to see whatever new person you’ve become after all this time. I know my other friends think it’s unwise, and the logical part of me also thinks there’s little point in reaching out.

That doesn’t stop, though, a tiny, essential part of me from wondering, time to time. The part of me that occasionally has you show up in my dreams, as we share the bond we once had. The part the wonders if you, too, sometimes consider sending a fateful message, before realizing the frustration you’d experience wondering why you haven’t yet received a reply. We were so alike, once—I can’t help but wonder how much that’s actually changed.

If I opened my inbox to a message from you tomorrow…well, I honestly don’t know what I would do.

But I would read it. And I would think.

[hthemc]

Manic Pixie Nightmare Girl

Bryan sighed, and closed the browser tab. He picked up hisphone, hoping in vain that some notification had popped up in the 5 minute interval since he’d last checked it. The cute anime girl smiled up at him from the screen, but it had long ago ceased eliciting any emotional response in him. He slouched further down into his seat and pondered again what to do. He’d checked all his favorite social media sites a dozen times already today. None of the games in his extensive digital collection held any appeal. His friends, what few he still communicated with, had all gone to sleep hours before—the downsides to having gainful employment, as it were. He briefly considered picking up the book he’d recently purchased, but he’d had incredible difficulty getting interested enough in the plot to make it past the second chapter. He almost opened up a new browser tab to look for a job, if only so he wouldn’t be lying next time his father yelled at him about how worthless he was being. Ultimately, it didn’t seem worth the effort.

His slouch had deepened almost the point of lying down when the doorbell to his small apartment rang shrilly. The shock actually jerked him just enough that the wheeled chair slid backwards and in the process deposited Bryan to the floor. Confused, he looked down to the phone he still held in his hand to check the time. Who on earth could be visiting at this hour of the night? It made no sense. Belatedly Bryan realized he kept no weapon, or even anything suitable for self-defense, in his measly abode. Then again, what kind of intruder rings the bell? Bryan pulled himself to his feet and walked the short distance to the door.

He paused in front of the entrance. Was it really wise to open it? Perhaps it would be better to just pretend he was asleep; most people were at this hour, anyway. On the other hand…maybe it would finally be something interesting. Worst case, it could be something to at least complain about to Claire and Scott tomorrow. Bryan gingerly reached out and opened the door.

The figure was on the taller side, roughly around six feet he’d guess. What had clearly been brown hair had been dyed to a shade of bubble-gum pink, which clashed in a horrifyingly fascinating way with the electric-green lipstick that had been hastily applied. Eyeliner had been applied in quantities and with an expertise often associated with excited preteens. The left ear sported several large hoop earrings, and the right a large stud containing some kind of dark gem. The plain black choker seemed oddly demure in contrast to the rest of the outfit, which would have easily have blended in at any punk rock concert. Combat boots,  bright mismatched stockings, pink tiger-print skirt, tightly-bound corset, and an assortment of wrist accessories all vied for Bryan’s attention. What ended up actually occupying his mind, though, was the fact the figure was clearly and absolutely male.

The stubble-studded face broke out into a wide grim, and the man struck what clearly was supposed to be a jaunty pose.

“Ahoy there, Max! It’s time for ADVENTURE!”

“…my name is Bryan, not Max. And who are you supposed to be?”

The man’s smile froze, and he began vigorously patting nonexistent pockets in a clear search for something. Bryan could barely make out the man mumbling to himself, something like “…have sworn I didn’t forget again…” though it was hard to tell. With an irked expression, he gave up on the futile search. Like a switch, the smile that was obviously intended to be “winning” plastered itself upon his face again.

“Well, doesn’t matter anyway, Bryan! Your adventure awaits, and I am here to accompany you! To answer your question, I am Aaron! Aaron Yan. Although you can call me Erin if you want, some of them do though I don’t quite understand why…” The man trailed off, and his gaze grew distant. Bryan wasn’t sure how, but he had someone managed to actually pronounce the different spellings while speaking. With a startling suddenness, Aaron’s attention suddenly seemed to snap back to Bryan.

“NONETHELESS! That isn’t pertinent at the moment! THE TIME IS UPON US! We shall embark immediately! Although I must say I’m a bit surprised at your clothing choice.” Bryan was sure Aaron’s maxed vocal volume would wake his neighbors, though Bryan honestly didn’t care that much. Bryan glanced down, taking in his faded, well-worn jeans and one of his many text t-shirts (“Irony is when someone writes ‘your an idiot’”). What had Aaron been expecting him to wear?

Wait, why was Aaron expecting anything of him?

“I still don’t understand, what adventure? And why are you dressed like that?”

“It is NOT THE TIME for questions! Your adventures await, we must set off at once! Barn chalice, as they say!” Bryan briefly had time to wonder who in the world actually said that before he was firmly grabbed by the hand and jerked into motion by the exuberant Aaron.

As Bryan sputtered out questions, they were all but lost to the void as Aaron chattered endlessly over him, promising him excitement and adventure and all the things Jedi weren’t supposed to crave. Bryan found himself almost incapable of looking away from the monstrosity that was Aaron’s attire. The fact his eyes kept wandering to the space between the man’s leggings and skirt end left Bryan feeling increasingly uncomfortable and confused.

They rounded the corner on the block. Aaron dug into a pocket with his free hand, and with a motion a nearby car emitted an excited trio of beeps. Somehow the aged Honda Civic, sporting mismatched colored doors, had been wedged in between two other cars in a manner that defied Bryan’s understanding of physics. With a jovial shove, Bryan found himself forced into the passenger seat.

Aaron’s prattling hadn’t ceased for a second, but now included several reminders for Bryan to buckle up (despite the fact he already had) as Aaron executed what could best be described as a 13-point turn. Finally free from the parking prison, Bryan suddenly gripped whatever handholds he could as Aaron slammed down on the accelerator.

Despite the time of night, the streets were not completely empty. Bryan had to physically bite down on a scream as Aaron, with a cry of “Ah HA!” turned his attention completely away from the road for a handful of incredibly long seconds in order to connect an aging iPod to the car’s stereo system. Bryan was relatively certain they sped through at least two red lights, but had closed his eyes after the first and  couldn’t be sure.

The bright voices of Swedish pop singers blasted from the speakers, and in an entirely unnerving fashion Aaron began swerving slightly in time with the electronic beat. For the first time since they had met, Aaron finally paused long enough for Bryan to get a full question out.

“I get you’re going to show me a ‘good time’ and it’ll be exciting and all that…but where exactly are you actually taking me?!”

“Ah, that would spoil the SURPRISE! They say anticipation makes the heart grow fonder, after all!”

“…I’m pretty sure no one says that. I think you’re mixing two—“

“Oh, come now, my good man!” Aaron possessed a remarkable ability to shut Bryan up despite his every intention not to. “Life’s wasted without a bit of excitement, eh? I assure you, EVERY customer I’ve had in the past has been more than satisfied by my performance, if you catch my drift!” A sudden swerve to avoid a car driving at a far more reasonable speed, followed by a long and angry horn. “Why, the fair lady of Astoria, the Princess Esmeralda, once remarked that a night…“

Bryan found himself ignoring the resumption of Aaron’s torrential tale-telling, and instead praying (as he hadn’t in over a decade) that wherever Aaron was taking them, they’d at least arrive alive and in one piece…

_____________________________________________________________________

The amusement park was quite empty, though they had walked in easily enough. Aaron had gone silent upon exiting the vehicle, and Bryan had decided that asking questions was pointless, and just hoped that whatever Aaron had planned would soon become clear.

The pair wound their way through various darkened booths and empty queues, and eventually Bryan found himself ducking under chains to reach the entrance to a large Ferris wheel. He stood, slightly bewildered, as Aaron attempted with much gusto to open the locked control box for the ride. Over the rattling of the metal casing Bryan could just discern muttering that he was certain contained words no lady was supposed to utter. As if sensing the gaze, Aaron looked up to Bryan.

“Not to worry, I’ll have this sorted out in a jiffy! Can’t be that hard, right? Just flip a switch, and VOLLA! Instant ride.”

“…you seriously think they keep these things ready to go through the night? Did you come in here thinking you can just flip one switch and the entire amusement park would come to life?

Aaron’s expression froze mid-grin, and Bryan could almost hear the mental gears shifting in panicked thought.

“…can’t you? Pretty sure I’ve seen it done before!”

“…in MOVIES! You seriously thought this would work?! I thought you knew what you were doing!”

“Ah ha ha ha! No, uh, well, you see, this was an, er… A TEST! Yes! A test to see if you were paying attention! And you’ve passed SPLENDIDLY, my good man! Now that we’ve, uh, established your CREDENTIALS, we shall proceed to the real adventure. QUICKLY, m’lad! We have no a moment to lose!”

Bryan once again discovered himself being dragged behind Aaron at a breakneck pace as they made their way back to the car… _____________________________________________________________________

“Now, Brian,” Aaron again demonstrated his remarkable ability to pronounce spelling differences between homonyms, “what I think the issue here is a certain lack of TRUST! Clearly you don’t, for reasons I can hardly understand, think I’m actually going to do what I was hired to do!”

“What WERE you hired to do? I still don’t know why you were here!” Bryan may as well not have asked the question, as Aaron barreled on—both verbally, and on the road.

“So what I think we need now is a little TRUST exercise! I shall continue driving, but with my eyes CLOSED and my hands OFF THE WHEEL! Together, we shall reach out next destination intact and whole, and by god! We’ll have done it together! Can’t get much more trusting than that, eh?”

Bryan actually uttered a small shriek this time as Aaron did as he had just promised before Bryan could even respond. He practically threw himself at the wheel as Aaron leaned back, grinning and eyes closed, threw his hands in the air and pressed his foot to the floorboard. The engine of the beat-up old car roared hoarsely, but the car surged ahead. Bryan tried his best to keep the vehicle on the road from his precarious leaning position, and out of the corner of his eye caught the flash of black and white as they tore down the highway.

Seconds later, the sirens and flashing lights confirmed his worst fears, and Bryan let out a deep-seated moan. Well, at least this “adventure’ was over. Bryan had never been more excited to speak to a cop.

“AHA! The fuzz! Excellent!” Bryan froze in response to these unexpected words, and almost veered off the road.

“Well, now, Bryan, we can’t stop here! We’re partners in crime, as it were! An old-school chase, nothing like that to boil the blood and brighten the spirit!” Bryan had thought the car had reached its peak speed, but he was proven wrong. Aaron controlled the accelerator, and a crash at this speed would be fatal—Bryan had no choice but to continue driving, as additional lights appeared in the review mirror and Aaron began cackling cheerfully… _____________________________________________________________________

Several eventful hours later found Bryan panting on a remote hillside, legs clutched tight to his chest as he rocked back-and-forth slightly by himself. Aaron emerged from behind a nearby tree, and gave what was supposed to be cheerful slap on the back that sent Bryan tumbling down the hill several yards. Lacking the energy to do anything else, Bryan simply groaned and looked up.

He was unsure from where Aaron had produced the clothes, but he had winked conspiratorially at Bryan and said some long sentences about “throwing them off the tracks” and “never recognizing us now.” He seemed to ignore the fact that Bryan himself was still dressed the same, but Bryan wasn’t sure how he felt about Aaron’s new outfit. Certainly less garish than before, nevertheless the pastel blue sundress and polka-dot headband still gave an incredibly feminine appearance to a man who otherwise gave no such airs. As if to emphasize the point, Aaron tromped off down the hillside in the combat boots he still wore, singing some unfamiliar tune in a bold voice.

“Ah-HA! What’s that I hear?”

Bryan couldn’t muster the energy to look. Surely it couldn’t concern him if he stayed where he was. Aaron started humming to himself, with the occasional interjection of “Ah-HA!” as he busied himself with something near the bottom of the hill.

Several minutes later, more rapid tromping. Bryan opened his weary eyes at Aaron’s insistent tugging on his pantsleg.

“So, um, yes, we should go!”

“Aaron, I’m sick of this. I’m exhausted. Just let me lie here till dawn breaks and I can get a taxi back home.”

“Um, yes, well, about that. I wouldn’t stay there if I was you.”

Bryan dimly realized Aaron was speaking, but what had thought was Aaron’s humming hadn’t ceased—rather, it was growing louder.

“Yes, you see, apparently they don’t like being disturbed from rest, and while I had heard that gifts of that sort were very memorable, it seems I may have miscalculated slightly in the difficulty involved in the procurement of, well…”

Bryan sat up in horror as he realized what he had taken for a particular deep shadow was actively moving, as if composed of hundreds of smaller pieces. Finally, it clicked.

“Oh GOOOOOOOOD!!!!!!”

And again they were sprinting away as the horde of angry bees chased after the would-be invaders of their domain… _____________________________________________________________________

“But you have to admit, Bryan, it was quite exciting, right? Nothing like running for your life to remind you that, well, you’re alive! Amirite? One day soon you’ll look back on everything that’s happened tonight with great fondness! That’s what I tell myself, anyway. And then after, when…”

The thin fabric did not make the hard molded plastic noticeably more comfortable, but at this point Bryan was happy to take what he could get. He was exhausted. Theoretically he was looking at the value menu that had been shoved in front of him by an irritated waitress (glaring the whole time at Aaron Yan) but his gaze was more akin to a veteran’s thousand-yard-stare. His mind was elsewhere, such as on the bit with the black cat and the—no, he needed to focus on other things! He was doing his best to forget about the events of the past several hours, particularly the “adventures” after the encounter the bees.

He was failing miserably.

As he sat there, the light from the newly rising sun suddenly blinded him. This only further increased his misery. For want of anything better to do, and against his better judgment, he tuned back in to what Aaron was saying.  

“…more for the fancy restaurants. But have you SEEN how little food they give you? I must say, it’s FAR more EFFICIENT to go to a good ol’ fashion AMERICAN DINER TRADITION like this! Do you see how much more food you get for the amount you paid? Simply splendid!”

“Well, I haven’t paid anything yet.”

“Oh, my lad, I meant for the whole package! The meal is naturally included in the price you were originally quoted at for the experience!”

“Look, I’ve tried to tell you this already, I don’t KNOW what package you’re talking about! I STILL don’t know why you’re here, I don’t know what adventure or experience or…or..or WHATEVER this is supposed to be? Can you just take me home!?”

Aaron’s eyes widened slightly, and Bryan suspected he may have gotten through to the man for the first time in the entire evening. Bryan could once again almost see the metaphorical gears grinding in action as Aaron attempted to seriously process what he had just heard. For perhaps the first time since he had first met Aaron Yan, neither spoke for the better part of a minute, the normal clatter of an early-morning diner filling in the void.

“…well then,” Aaron finally broke the silence. “This is, er, rather a pickle, I’m afraid. So you did not order this service? This all came as a (rather positive I hope!) surprise?” His stare was unnervingly intense, though he was smiling throughout in a rather frigid fashion.

For once, Aaron listened with his full attention to the reply. _____________________________________________________________________

“-until your next great adventure!” and the door slammed shut, leaving Bryan in blissful quiet with only the hum of his idle computer filling the room. He quickly lowered himself onto his coach and closed his weary eyes.

His stomach rumbled briefly—Aaron had very quickly cancelled breakfast plans, practically dragged Bryan back out to the street before hailing a taxi to rush them back to his apartment. As usual, Aaron had let loose a torrential stream of apologies and thinly veiled pleas that Bryan not mention this to anyone, not that Bryan intended to.

The word “adventure” briefly crossed Bryan’s mind, and he could not repress a shudder that coursed through his body. Not even a day previously his  boring life had seemed, well, boring: now he was relishing remaining indoors for the next 72 hours and doing whatever he felt like, and that would very likely be ‘nothing.’ He shifted slightly, and Aaron’s grinning face flashed in his mind’s eye. Bryan shuddered again, though this time it more closely resembled a convulsion.

No, he was now quite satisfied with his life. If anybody rang his doorbell again, he would relish opening it just to slam it in the person’s face.

In his pocket, a vibration announced some new notification. He’d check it later—he was in no hurry.

No, this was how life was meant to be.

[hthemc]

Apotheosis

Gift shops across the country, and maybe across the globe, carry mugs with “World’s Best Dad” on them. Thousands of “#1 Mom” shirts have certainly been produced. You can find countless commercial ways of telling siblings, relatives, and friends that they are better than billions of others who hold that same role.

It’s a function of society, and perhaps human nature, a drive that seems common in all of us no matter our origins. I am better than most people: I am smarter, make better decisions, believe the opinion that is self-evidently true. My friends are the best, my parents raised me flawlessly, I had experiences this year that could not have been topped. It's a well-understood psychological phenomenon.

Sure, there are exceptions, but I challenge you to not find several aspects of your life where you hold such beliefs. It’s an easy challenge to make, because I know you will fail.

I’d like to believe you were good for me. Maybe it’s even true. Perhaps you were the best option I could have possibly had, given where I was born, how I was raised, the people I could theoretically and realistically have come into contact with. Perchance what we shared was ultimately actually for the best for me, and hopefully even for you.

I’d like to believe that, and I suppose there’s even a chance it’s true.

I know you cared about me with an intense ferocity similar to the flame I burned for you. But a lingering doubt remains, a question that will never receive an answer. For two things can be equal, but in essence antithetical.

I know I loved you, and you me. But simply loving one another does not equate to meeting each others' needs, or being everything the other required. Again, perhaps that can never be truly possible, or so rare as to be practically inconceivable. Maybe no one else would have been better.

It’s certainly more comforting to believe that.

You left a unique imprint upon me, molded me in ways I still do not fully comprehend. Such marks fade and twist as others ricochet across me, and even occasionally stick around to do more intense work. Perhaps some of them are as worthy of such deep consideration as I traditionally preserve for you—perhaps one of them has left a deep impact I’ve not yet discovered. But I suspect down such a road madness lies, and I lie already too close to the rift.

If I could know for sure what might have been, if I could receive some quantifiable review of what you were to me…would I take it? It is no secret what-ifs are among the most painful memories as we grow older, those rare moments where we seriously realize all was perhaps not for the best, that everything did not happen for a reason. The real question, though, is whether those what-ifs are more painful than the absolute truth.

I wish I could write when I was happy. But at least you gave me this.

[hthemc]

"S" by J. J. Abrams and Doug Dorst, page 381.

[hthemc]

An anecdote

Just because I don't really have anyplace else to stash this thought.

I know this falls under just societal expectations and rules of etiquette, but it was a telling moment for me I guess--maybe because of my experience abroad where such expectations are a little different.

When people who actually know me (i.e. not people I expect to never see again) ask how I'm doing, or how my day is going, or anything similar, I usually try to give an honest answer. I know a lot of people default to just saying "fine, thank you" or a different thing, but I strive to be a little more honest. I'll say things like "Very good!" or "Eh, it's not the best," just because I feel like if they take the time to inquire, they deserve an answer. I won't necessarily go into more detail, but if the person asks and the explanation isn't too personal I'll say why.

The other day I went to my weekly Ultimate game as I usually do, and at this point I know several people there fairly well. A few of them are somewhere between acquaintance and what I guess I'd call a true friend--maybe Facebook friend is the right term nowadays?

As I was walking onto the field with one of them, she asked me how I'd been, as I just outlined, and I responded. After that, I just asked her (since I was genuinely curious) "How has your week been?"

She started to respond, and got about 3-4 words in, when she paused and looked at me. "Oh, wait, did you actually want to know?"

Confused, I responded that I did, and that's why I asked.

"Oh," she says, "usually people ask things like that but don't actually care."

I reassured her I actually meant the question, and was interested in hearing her response. 

What followed wasn't particular novel, or even worth recording--just a pretty typical second week of a new semester of school for her. But it kind of sent home a message to me about how we operate as a society. Am I really that rare to actually pay attention when I ask someone such a simple question? It's not rare in the circles I walk in, but those circles may certainly not be the same that she treads regularly. 

Obviously a single anecdote isn't enough to draw general conclusions from, but as usual with this kind of thing, it did make me think. Rest assured, at least if I ask you about how you're doing, I do indeed want to know. But I do wonder how unusual I may actually be in that regard.

[hthemc]

More thoughts very late on a Friday evening

Adulthood is a weird thing.

 I’ve seen some claims, and ones that seemconvincing, that our society currently doesn’t have a great way of letting people know they’ve hit it. Historically a lot of cultures have had ceremonies to mark boys officially becoming men, or girls women, or whatever—you can still see evidence of that in Jewish and Catholic traditions in the US, if nothing else. However, that typically marks the entry into puberty, and in the last hundred of so years that has ceased to be synonymous with adulthood.

 I’ve even seen some evidence, though I’m certainly not well-researched enough to say whether it’s valid, where there’s been an upswing in the last decade of comedians doing jokes that can be boiled down to “lol I’m technically an adult but I have no idea what I’m doing.” It’s certainly an idea I hear tossed around in my peer group, if nothing else.

 I’m not an anthropology or sociology person, so I’m not particularly well-equipped to view this in a broader lens. All I can really do is view how I’ve been personally experiencing all of this, as it’s been a topic preying on my mind quite a bit recently.

 On the one hand, I feel fairly ready to shoulder the responsibilities of “adult life.” I lived alone in Europe for two years— I can pay bills, feed myself, get to work on time, stick to a budget, etc. Majority of time I felt in-control and unconcerned about handling this all—sure, there were sticking points, and stresses, but most of it was manageable and never hit true panic. Nothing felt particularly challenging, but rather a matter of keeping on top of things and staying at least somewhat organized.

 With all this in mind, I’m still finding it mildly stressful to be making this transition to independent, working life. It’s not terrifying, or horrifying, or anything seriously strong on the emotional scale, but I find myself more worried about it than I’d expect. As I just pointed out, very little of what I’ll be doing aren’t things I’ve already done successfully. What’s more, I’ll be working with a larger income than the just-livable scholarship wage, I’ll be literally thousands of miles closer to friends and family so that they’re reachable with but an hour or less’ drive, and I’m living in the state and culture I’ve spent the vast majority of my life. If anything, it should feel less stressful than when I was departing for a foreign country on my own.

 One aspect, I suppose, is a kind of finality. Every period before this, whatever “thing” I was doing had a predefined duration. Even though I was going off to Germany, I knew that no matter what I’d be home at the end of my studies. Same has been true for high school and college—I always knew roughly when I’d be done, and how I’d be transitioning to the next stage of life. Now, not so much. Literally no one can say how long I’ll stay with this company, or even in the general area I’ll be living in. I don’t know what my relationship status will be like, if I’ll need to renew my lease, or anything along those lines. I’m leaving home, but in theory this is the time I’ll be doing so without plans to ever come back except to visit. It’s weird.

 Another aspect is the lack of a predefined support network. In high school and undergrad I obviously had a lot of advisors and such, and it was generally known what my trajectory for the next few years should/would be. Likewise, while in grad school, even though I almost never used it, I theoretically had support from both my program and my scholarship organization, and could have turned for help when I needed it. For this stage in my life, I obviously have support from friends, from family, and from my future place of work, but it’s much more amorphous and ill-defined (though not necessarily more or less effective). While I firmly believe my education at all stages was useful, the pure academic nature of it definitely left gaps. While I know a lot of things, some things that probably shouldn’t be are still unclear. I only have the vaguest notion of how filing taxes works; I found out just a few days ago that renter’s insurance is a thing; I have but the dimmest idea of how a 401(k) works; I’m finding out the cost for things I had previously taken for granted.

 Again, I don’t feel unprepared, and I know I have people I can and/or will ask when I need to. I also don’t think I’m alone in having these knowledge gaps for many things, and I at least have the confidence that I can learn and figure all this out with relative ease. But it’s weird to consider that while I’ve been in the adulthood-delaying miasma that is higher education, people my age or younger have been dealing with all this, have known these things, and have even bought houses or had children.

 I think the final thing that sets this transition apart from my last big one is just the idea of independence. My goal in Germany was to be as self-reliant as possible—I was happy and/or proud of the fact that I was getting a graduate degree without being a continuing burden, financial and otherwise, on my family. However, if I did need help on any front, as I was still a student it did not seem weird were this to occur. If some emergency were to happen, it would not be shameful to need to fall back on my safety net and get help fixing things.

 I know I will likely have problems, and issues will crop off—if not in this coming year, then certainly within the next few. It happens to everyone, and I don’t think I live quite enough of a charmed life to be an exception. However, and perhaps this is a fallacious mental shift that I nonetheless feel, it seems in this case if I mess up it would feel a lot worse. I don’t want to have to be the person who moves back in with my parents because I screwed up, or has to ask for assistance because of some mismanagement on my part. I know it technically doesn’t differ radically from my life for the last pair of years, but I feel like the idea of self-reliance is asserting itself much more strongly now. It’s a very weird thing, and I’m not quite sure I understand where the feeling is coming from.

 I’m sure this transition will go well, and in a few months I will feel very settled in and happy. But I guess these are some of the thoughts swirling around my mind lately, and as usual setting them down in writing helps me move on and dwell on them less. I don’t expect crazy answers, or for things to radically change now that I’ve exposed my inner thoughts to the outer world, but this small release is enough. 

[hthemc]

Thoughts very late on a Friday evening

This is probably going to be a long, rambling post mostly for myself about myself (and likely not interesting to anyone else) so consider yourself adequately warned, and feel free to skip it. I mostly just want to get a lot of thoughts that have been whirring around my head down in some coherent form, and writing’s good for that. Anyway:

I feel confident saying that in retrospect. Sure, there were many positives. I got a graduate degree (even if it still seems like an abstract rather than concrete achievement). I got to see friends I love dearly multiple times, and on two different continents. I created a couple new, meaningful relationships that I think will persist for quite a while, and felt old ones grow stronger. I wrote a lot, learned to code, and hit several other meaningful goals I set for myself. It certainly was not all bad.

With that said, on the whole it still, well, kind of sucked. I spent far too much time cooped up in a room grinding video games to no purpose. I spent a lot of time feeling physically lonely and somewhat isolated. I dealt with heartbreak, with losing a best friend, with the sourness of having missed chances I would normally not have shied away from. I dealt with myriad frustrations. I encountered problems within my family that I had no hand in causing but affected me anyway. I got out of shape, and found myself a lot less motivated. I lost, or at least reduced, a lot of positive qualities that I had always prized within myself. And, maybe most importantly for the latter half, I experienced endless frustration to a new height I’d previously never hit in the form of job hunting. But more on that later.

There were a lot of negatives, and I’ve spent a decent amount of time in introspection about them. I wrote a rather lengthy piece that will never see the light of day, but I know exactly where it’s sitting on my hard-drive. I’ve taken a lot of steps to try and reverse the negative trends, and by and large I think it’s working.

I think most indicative of the general state of last year is a certain piece I posted on here. I’m not going to relink it, but likewise I haven’t deleted it. It was certainly all true at the time, even if I don’t feel that way anymore.  I think it’s valuable to remember the lows along with the highs.

But yes, job hunting. I think, at the start, I viewed myself as being super qualified, and incredibly excited about the prospects. I had a field I was interested in, roles I thought I was well suited for, and a history of always doing well in interviews & application processes. After all, I’d gotten into an incredibly selective high school and college, and won a prestigious scholarship to go abroad. Jobs couldn’t be that much harder, right?

It turned out, I was kind of right. On the rare instances I got past the initial screen, I did super well. I got to final round all three or so times I got an initial interview, but they were instances of being 95-99% there but just not quite. It’s a particularly frustrating set of circumstances: I knew I was almost qualified, that I wasn’t aiming too high or too specific in what I wanted to do, but I just wasn’t quite there. What especially stung were that these places were jobs and companies I would have loved to work for—one was literally what I had termed my dream job at the very start of my job search, and it felt unreal that I was even being considered. The difficulty was also facing rejection after rejection just at the first step—knowing that if I could just get a chance to interview and stand out, I would do well, but almost never getting that opportunity. The thing I was lacking—industry experience—was literally one of the only things I couldn’t change in my spare time. I felt like I was trying everything I could, and just things weren’t quite working for reasons out of my control. It was a first, I think, at least at this scale.

Thankfully, my parents and brother were supportive. Unlike a lot of the country at large and other people in my life in general, they understood the current economic climate. They believed me when I told them I was trying. They mostly left me alone, and when I came to them they offered support and encouragement and exactly what I needed.

Likewise, my close friends did everything I could ask for. They were there to tell me they believed in me, to calm me down when I was freaking out, and maybe most importantly keep me from fixating too hard on my failures. They often had confidence when I did not, which is rare when I feel like historically the roles were always reversed, but I certainly appreciated it.

No, the trouble was more my other relatives, and especially family friends. It was never outright disdain, but there was always underlying pressure, the idea pervasive amongst older people that clearly the only reason I was unemployed was I wasn’t trying hard enough. The constant questions, the suggestions that implied I hadn’t already tried things, the comments about various aspects—those were the ones that caused me to seethe inside while presenting a calm exterior. As much as I love my grandparents, in particular, they were particularly grating. I came to avoid visiting them, since I knew any visit no matter how short would result in the topic of my unemployment coming up.

I was told to find internships, as if I could afford that. I was told to settle for something less, as if getting a graduate degree had prepared me for that. I was told to simply walk into offices and ask for a job, as if I wouldn’t be laughed out in the era of digital applications. The advice from all these people seemed endless, and just disconnected enough from reality to make it essentially worthless. But it tried my unconscious, and spurred the flames of guilt and inferiority.

Somewhere along the way all these feelings coalesced, mostly unconsciously, into me perhaps feeling it was kind of hopeless. Even though I knew I should have taken me almost getting into some of the most selective companies in the world as a positive rather than a negative, I think deep down internally I instead despaired of ever finding a position. I began to more seriously consider looking into a less competitive field, or at least an easier one to enter, of doing something I wouldn’t enjoy for less money simply so I’d have something.  I began entertaining a lot of thoughts I never would have at the start of the search.

But now, I have a job offer. If I had made a list physically rather than mentally 7 months ago, I could probably compare what I wanted versus what I now have as a serious, concrete option. But it’s a position where I can continue to do research, and in the field of tech, and with a variety of companies. That alone would have been enough. But it’s also in a city that I think will be great to live in, and close to friends I care about. There’s great perks and benefits. I can set my own hours, and even work from home occasionally. I have a lot of personal freedom to set my own workload and work flow, and take on as much responsibility as I want. I’ll be working in a start-up environment rather than a stuffy strict corporate one, with a group of talented, friendly people and where I have the chance to directly influence how the team develops and works. I will have a chance not only to grow personally in my experience and expertise, but also grow alongside a rapidly expanding company with all the benefits that entails. It may not be a company that I had thought of when I first started searching, but at this point I feel genuinely excited to work there. I will be doing work that I think I will truly enjoy, and I don’t know if I can seriously ask for more.

All of this together makes it seem unreal. I think after I got the offer, and so unexpectedly at that, I felt for sure something must be wrong. It all seemed too perfect, too similar to the things I still dared to dream but had decided were unattainable. With everyone constantly complaining about how work sucked, or how people hate doing their jobs, it seemed like it’s impossible I should be interested and excited about beginning work. But, truth be told, even setting aside the financial motivation, I really am stoked about starting this new chapter of my life. But it really does seem too good to be true. The sad part is, I guess, that I know a year, or 6 months ago, it wouldn’t have. I don’t know if this is ultimately a good or bad thing.

Of course, I’m sure things will happen. I’m sure problems will crop up, especially with finding a housing, or getting settled in, or trying to start a new section of my life (especially before the first paycheck). I’m sure there will be aspects of the work I don’t particularly enjoy. I’m sure I will mess up, make mistakes, or other non-work related problems will unexpectedly spring themselves on me. I might not even end up liking the work as much as I think I will; I’ve certainly considered the possibility. Balancing housing costs and living costs and paying off (thankfully minimal but still imposing) student loans may prove to be a challenge. I’m not unrealistic—it’s not a question of if something will go wrong, just when and what.

But on the whole, I’m feeling startlingly optimistic. It’s finally starting to sink in this is all real—that’s part of writing this treatise. I’m feeling closer in spirit to who I thought I was, or aspired to be, rather than what I view as the reality of myself all of last year. I am sure I will face challenges, but I know I will be able to overcome them and deal with them—I did live on my own in Europe for two years, after all. Despite all the difficulties this transition will bring, I will have friends and family close by (both physically and electronically), and the knowledge they are there to support me if I need it helps tremendously.

I wrote another piece about how I have mixed feelings on artificial transition points like the new year. I know it doesn’t actually have an effect, but you have to divide time somehow. Two weeks ago, I had what seemed like farfetched hopes that this year would be better in every respect. I thought it unlikely, but I clung to the hope anyway.

One of my best friends told me today that it seems like this year is going to be my year. It’s certainly too early to say for sure—I definitely couldn’t have told you what 2014 would be like this time last year. But I am, slowly, starting to be more and more convinced that there’s some merit to that idea. I’m slowly starting to believe that all the effort and struggles and pain I went through were not all for naught. I’m slowly starting to believe things are looking up, and will only continue to improve.

I’m starting to think she was right. I’m excited for the rest of 2015. Let’s do it; here I come.

[hthemc]

Reflections on American Sniper

I’ve been an avid consumer of war-related material. I find WWII history fascinating, I’ve watched a ton of movies and TV shows about war, read many books both fictional and not that focus on the themes present in warfare. One of my most played genres of videogame are first-person and third-person shooters, which, not surprisingly, often focus on war as a theme.

Every male in the older generation of my family has served. None of them have ever seriously suggested any of the guys in my family of my generation enlist. My grandfather once started to bring up the subject, but my father quickly, firmly, and decisively shut down the discussion. I don’t think any of this is by accident.

I’ve read enough, and seen enough, to know that I want nothing to do with an actual war. I admire the bravery, aspire to the levels of teamwork and dedication that often get displayed under these conditions. But I’m more than content to learn about it by proxy, and find what I want in the realm of tactical games.

I picked up the autobiography American Sniper mostly on a whim, since I saw it in Costco and my mother had been bugging me for more things she could get me for Christmas. Not the most surprising gift to get on Christmas, admittedly, but I was still happy to read it. I was expecting stories about his wartime experience, details on what it’s like to be a spec-ops sniper, and general details. What I got instead was, to pick a word carefully, a fascinating portrait of someone radically different in mindset and practice than I am. I don’t remember the last time a book made me think so hard about my beliefs and viewpoints, and assuredly not in ways intended by the author. I agree with many reviewers it was a book worth reading, but I doubt I agree for the same reasons they did.

I think in general it’s good practice to occasionally read things that challenge your viewpoint, or at least deeply consider why you think things that you do. It’s occasionally why I read opinion pieces on views that I know I’m opposed to, and why I at least try (even if I often fail) to understand why someone may think differently than me on a subject. American Sniper certainly helped me understand better a perspective that I in theory knew existed at large in my country, but since I never come into direct contact with it I only previously knew it as a kind of extreme parody that I (falsely, it turned out) assumed didn’t exist in reality.

Going through point by point of everything I disagreed with Chris Kyle, the eponymous sniper and author of the book, would take more time than I’m willing to commit to writing this. Needless to say, a deeply stereotypical soldier from Texas whose priorities are “God, country, and family” in that order, who believes in moral absolutes, who would voluntarily leave his wife who almost died at childbirth mere days after the event to return to war, who believes that despite being arrested multiple times for bar fights thinks he’s not the cause, who thinks it unreasonable that people whose country he invaded try to kill him…well, I’m already making a list, so I should stop.

It created a problematic situation for me. Unlike Chris Kyle, I do not think the world falls easily into black and white with no grey. For starters, Kyle himself falls firmly into the grey. I think America is a great nation (even if I will always think of myself as Californian first, and an American second, as it were), and in my years abroad I never once lied about where I came from, or even felt ashamed. But that experience abroad has taught me that great is not the same as perfect, and to never question the decisions and actions we take as a nation is foolish to the extreme. To hear a man say that any war his country engages in is automatically valid or righteous, and that in doing so makes anyone who oppose them heathens/savages/worthy of dying is to me immensely problematic. And again, this is just one of many issues I had.

It’s difficult, as I’ve said. The situation in the Middle East is certainly rife with many problems, and I’m far from educated enough on the subject to say whether our actions there were justified, or even ultimately beneficial at large. I cannot help but admire the dedication, bravery, and other such similar traits that Kyle possessed that rightfully earned him his spot in an elite military branch (the SEALs) and won him multiple commendations. I can certainly understand why others laud him as a “true American hero.” He represents a lot of what we admire in our country, and in our military. I certainly have no hope of achieving what he did, mentally or physically.

But at the same time, I cannot accept or claim I think he is what I would term a good man. I find it difficult to face a man who claims to follow Christian values but doesn’t wonder for even a second if some of the hundreds of people he killed were perhaps not entirely “evil,” as he labels them. I find it difficult to accept a person who not only has no issues with the indoctrination and brutal training methods rife in the military, but thinks they are positives and helps to spread them (perhaps they are right that it’s necessary for an effective armed forces, but I can’t help but wonder if there are other less harmful ways). I find it difficult to understand a man who, just because someone happened to be born on US soil, believes that that man’s life is worth 100 (or more) of someone from another country. I find it difficult to empathize with a man who believes that by simply having served in the military, someone is inherently better than a normal citizen.

I don’t think it’s necessarily wrong to laud Chris Kyle for what he did. But I don’t think it’s right to admire him, or aspire to be like him. War is a special place, and requires a special kind of person—as I started out by saying, I know I will never truly understand what it’s like to be in one. But he is also quite honest about how he has treated his family, his children, his loved ones, and his fellow Americans. That I feel competent to judge, and I find him severely wanting.

It scares me a little to realize that a large portion of our active military is younger than I am. It confuses me to realize that I long ago surpassed the minimum age to serve. I know not every serving member of our armed forces thinks and acts exactly like Chris Kyle; documentaries like Restrepo and Korengal (both of which I highly, highly recommend) have shown me otherwise. The trouble I find is that Chris Kyle represents, to many people, what our military should look like; ultra-patriotic, unquestionably obedient, and ruthlessly aggressive . Just because you are trained to kill should not mean you lust for the chance. I’m not sure how I would feel about that combination were I ever on the opposing end.

I don’t know whether I recommend American Sniper. I think, for many of the people who use Tumblr especially, it would be a particularly hard read, emotionally. I did not get the action or insight into the military in general or sniping in particular I expected; better, more informative accounts exist elsewhere. But I do feel like I gained a new perspective on my country, and some of the kinds of people who inhabit it. I don’t know if any of my stances have changed, but I do feel better from having been exposed to some alternative viewpoints. It’s slightly gratifying to know that, even if I never achieve a kill-count in the hundreds, I can at least surpass Christ Kyle in my ability to think critically and challenge myself.

[hthemc]

Dreams and Memories

[Author’s preface: This will be a long preface, but it’s necessary. This is the seventh, and last, of the pieces I wrote for Christmas though it was completed later than the others. Kory [philosophyshitscribble] asked for a story for the Fate/Crusade campaign in which he and I were paired Master and Servant, respectively. I was very happy to oblige, since for literally over a year now I’ve wanted to write something from the experience and finally had the impetus to actually do so.

I initially just wanted to, as he suggested, flesh out and write-down some memorable scenes from the campaign. Given it lasted at least 25 sessions over the course of more than a year, certainly enough moments qualified as being worthy. However, as I began to write, the story very much started going someplace I hadn’t planned and wrested itself out of my control. Not only did it end up much longer than I expected, but it attempts at some significance I certainly hadn’t intended. As a side note, I ended up accidentally trying some new experimental stylistic things, and am pleasantly surprised with how they worked out.

Perhaps it’s not surprising this took so long and is much longer than I estimated initially. Rider is, if not my favorite, certainly the character with whom I’ve shared the deepest emotional connection. When I initially decided on who my Servant character would be, I spent an incredible amount of time preparing for the role. I read multiple books and took copious notes (such as a 120+ item list of people from his life), spent an absurd number of hours drafting out plans and hypothetical responses and detailing how the character would translate to an RPG. I felt gigantic pressure to do justice to the real-life man who I had come to admire in the course of my research. I do not know for sure what Kory did to prepare for Robert, but he always puts immaculate care and thought into his RPG creations. Rider and Robert formed a strong bond in the course of the campaign as they developed and matured from their initial start.

This story may very well fall flat to anyone who wasn’t in the campaign. It likely is not one of my stronger works, nor may it have any particular good points in its favor. But it’s certainly the most meaningful fiction piece I’ve written to date, and I’m glad to have it done.

Kory, I hope you can forgive the narrative focus of the piece, and how it has arrived later than promised. I hope I did justice to Robert: everything Rider says comes from his heart, as I found his persona resurfacing forcibly as I delved back into the notes and annals of the campaign. I hope you find it as meaningful as I do, though I will not be terribly surprised if you don’t. It’s not at all what you asked for, but I hope you are happy with the result. And to my character’s namesake, wherever you are, I hope you can forgive me for what I have done with and to your legacy. My Rider is certainly not you, especially at this point, but it certainly drew heavily from what you left behind.] 

Once, and it seemed so very long ago even though he knew it wasn’t, his slumber had been pleasant. Sleep came easily after a hard day of campaigning. Triumphs and victories led to stress-free rest.

He missed those days.

The dreams were an unrelenting assault upon his psyche. He alone knew his own pains best. No professional torturer could even dream of inflicting the mental agony that his unconscious casually set free upon itself during the night.

He truly, truly did not understand. He felt no such fears during waking hours. His normal confidence still rode strong, his belief in his own strengths and abilities trumping concerns that would pause a more ordinary man. This was no deluded self-aggrandizement, but rather rational acceptance of the list of feats and achievements that had rightly earned him a reputation amongst both his allies and foes. In the course of his day-to-day life few things truly concerned him. Any potential problem was not a reason to stress but rather a puzzle to be overcome. So why, then, such a shift in the night? What was his unconscious trying to get him to see?

Flash.

He came under gunfire for the first time ever, felt the thrill and fear course through him as men under his command fought and died based on his decisions. The fear would fade soon enough, as would the thrill to an extent, to be replaced by a sense of duty and strategic balancing, but the care would never leave. But the first time a round hissed by his ears and struck—

Flash.

—the sense of shame and disappointment that gripped both his nation and his very soul as his country, the one he’d fought so well and proudly for, was forced into disgraceful and humiliating terms in some kind of so-called justice that—

Flash.

—of hearing the news, the sense this time of leaving not only his family, but his wife and son behind as he answered the call he hoped would never come again. He’d be lying if he said some part of him didn’t relish this, a chance to right what went so very wrong last time, even if he didn’t entirely agree—

Flash.

—screaming to be heard over the sound of gunfire and artillery rounds. He could not understand why his men couldn’t see the snipers so obviously placed across the river. Clambering up on top of one of the tanks and directly pointing to the foe as men near him fell as rounds struck—

Flash.

—broiling to remain calm to all exterior eyes. Dictating carefully to his operator a message to Headquarters, stating how the state of supply lines was simply unacceptable given the pace he’d managed to achieve. How was he supposed to continue to achieve victory in these conditions, and what did it say about the war overall if—

Flash.

—could not believe was so calmly said. How could he have known coming across news of the plot would have this effect when he himself had no part in it? He had done nothing wrong, even in on the inside he—

Flash.

—never, ever again. It hurt too much, though he tried to remain stoic in front of Lucia and Manfred. Telling them was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but it was the right thing to do. His heart broke as—

Flash.

—was so tiny considering what it promised. The other two had wandered off to give him privacy. Summoning the courage that had carried him through both wars, he picked up the small capsule and—

Flash.

—unfamiliar sensation, colors and sounds he didn’t think were possible. (something seemed wrong, this wasn’t right) And an offer, one apparently given to only a select few, one that seemed simply too good—

Flash.

—as he faced the man, who looked completely startled to see him emerge from the smoke cloud. How could this be? He was told that anyone who brought him forth would understand the contract involved. If he had to work with a novice, how could he expect to earn the chance that had been offered to him? (wait, what were these memories? i should not have any more after the last, i have lived my life and it has finished) Perhaps this man was simply surprised by the method of his appearance; tactically it did not make sense to make assumptions without verifying them. (but no, nothing should have come after, i went willingly into the next world, i should have no more, this was wrong, where were these memories coming from!) He asserted himself, glanced quickly to either side to ensure the men were still holding positions and scanning the area, and spoke: “Tell me, who rules this world?” (there was no ruler of the world, why would i ask this and not about my homeland! what was going on? whose mind was this that controlled what was clearly my body?) The man’s eyes locked with his, and the realization that—

Flash.

—as what could only loosely be called a new ally of convenience unleashed some strange laser from the mechanical contraption on his back. The giant figure rushed towards them and seemed to barely register the gunfire that the adjutant was aiming its way. (what were this monstrous figure? and what were these forces and powers so clearly beyond the realm of logic and reason) He considered summoning some more of his men, or joining the fight in person, but it was too early, he risked the others finding out that—

Flash.

—“and detail a set of men to make sure those explosives are set properly, going off at the wrong time would be disastrous.” Lieutenant Grau offered a smart, precise salute and moved off to ensure the orders were followed. He glanced out the window, taking in the view again. Not ideal, of course, but a perfectly defensible position given the resources the Grail made possible (what exactly am i dreaming, this makes no sense, being able to summon weapons as if by magic)  combined with his experience. Already most of the trenches were done, and the makeshift armory was rapidly being filled, and these secret tunnels beneath the house would be invaluable should—

Flash.

—“best described as Assassin.” Perhaps not a lie, but certainly misdirecting in all the ways lies are. He felt uneasy at the deception, but he knew too much and had seen too much to confirm that even moreso than normal warfare, in this War information was vital beyond belief. (what was this third war? i knew only two wars, and we knew better after the first one to call any after Great) Besides, no one had actually asked if his adjutant was actually a Servant, everyone had simply assumed. Combat had taught him never to assume anything, to always plan ahead and to double-check recon, to—

Flash.

—a veteran of a dozen battles, sacrificed himself again. It never got easier, even if he knew the cause was just and in this case he had not truly died, but simply faded away to wherever he had been summoned. Every death lay as a tally upon his soul, for such sacrifices must be honored however he could. (how could his loyal men be returning from death just as he had? has the world gone truly mad? are these mad dreams of a forlorn hope? do i lay dying still, as my mind wildly searches for meaning?) He knew every name, and some of them earned their second tallymark as—

Flash.

—to be like kith and kin, despite the initial appearance. Robert had the true steel in his soul necessary for the rigors of warfare, the capacity to rise to greatness and glory. He found it almost reassuring that, even decades later, war seemed essentially unchanged at its most visceral core. As they sat idly there during the breaks that he had long ago learned to treasure when they came, he and Robert traded stories, compared notes, and generally learned that they shared basic experiences beyond the gulf of time. (wait, robert… the name seems familiar, unlike everything before. but if I know him to be true, does this mean that…) Occasionally one of his troopers, enjoying their brief return to life and relishing in the experience, would chime in or gently correct one of his recountings. Robert seemed mildly pleased by this, and especially by how he took such amendments with good humor. Robert shared his own stories, occasionally needing to take an extended tangent to explain a piece of technology or foreign technique, and the group listened and then countered with a similar tale of their own. He noticed Robert seemed reticent to speak on certain topics, particular the ultimate fates of some of his allies but then again—

Flash.

—he did not know why he felt such growing attachment to the young girl, though Robert seemed to share in what perplexingly seemed like protective instincts. Sure, he’d seen his share of children during his youth and during the between-times, but children were not something to be found on the battlefield, if he was doing his job properly—and he always did. He tried to remind himself she was not truly a girl, but rather an form given to a power greater than he understood, but every glance reminded him of the son he never had enough time for. Duty called, and he had answered.(the girl…she seemed familiar too. she had an odd name, stranger than any i’d  heard in foreign lands, almost like a…utensil? more memories seem to build up on the cusp of my imagination)  He did not regret it, but it had robbed him of certain things. He thought he had known what he wanted, what he hoped for when he had made the pact that allowed him this life-after-life. But the way the girl spoke, the views she expressed in shocking simple straightforward innocence... He felt like he was reevaluating everything he had thought, and he suspected Robert of having similar thoughts. He’d have to chat with the man about it soon, but first he needed to—

Flash.

—once again proven that preparation was the key to a successful defense, if for some reason you couldn’t turn it into an offensive. As they rode away from the still-burning mansion, having lost several soldiers but with their key allies and themselves intact, his eyes flickered to the side. As he deftly steered his way at full speed on the countryside, he murmured quietly to Robert next to him. Carefully so the others wouldn’t notice, the man casually turned his head as well and spotted the essentially intact battle helicopter laying there. (wait, now i remember that vehicle. we used it later to..but…no. are these truly memories? and if this all has already occurred, how does it end. and where am i now…?) Robert had told him stories of the thing, and it sounded like a most useful strategic tool indeed. Later, but soon, they would have to return and—

Flash.

—bricks flew away from the front of the jeep with explosive force, and his men quickly jumped off to grab the prisoners they had worked so hard to rescue. Sounds of battle echoed around him, sounds that were almost familiar and comforting at this point. None of it was close to him, which meant his allies were successfully holding their own. His men urged the prisoners, some of whom he recognized, onto the transport as he himself tried to figure out the most expedient route out of the warzone. Satisfied everyone was onboard, he slammed the vehicle into reverse and characteristically pushed the engine to its limits. A sergeant grabbed the woman as she almost flew out the door at the unexpected force and managed to keep her inside, but he was too focused on driving to give it a second thought. As he drove, he reached out with his mind to the man who had proven to be the most steadfast ally he could have—

Flash.

—something he’d always pictured potentially happening, but by some combination of luck and talent had never allowed himself to drawn into. Of course, he’d certainly never imagined that the foes would be demons, quite literally hell-bent on annihilating him and his remaining troopers. He felt a small surge of pride as they stoically fell back while remaining in good order, shouting to each other to cover reloads or adjust the line in accordance with terrain. His own rifle barked regularly and he was gratified to see many of the rounds strike with effect. If they were to die, they collectively seemed determined to face the odds with a bravery that befit their nation and a relentlessness to make a good accounting of themselves. He hoped Robert was ok; the lava had thankfully disappeared, but a fall of the likes he had taken could be fatal. He sensed his Master was still alive, but alive could take a number of variations and—

Flash.

—“but why fight?” The question was one he was intimately familiar with, and had discussed with any number of men of various degrees of intelligence and education. It was one that had often absorbed his own attention, especially when working on his memoirs and teaching younger recruits the harsh necessities of combat.  It was a question he knew, after so many chats, that plagued Robert even more than most, and they exchanged a glance before returning their attention to the young not-girl who had sprung the question. She sought to learn, that was all, and like those before her had encountered the questions that naturally came to those who lived and breathed and experienced this earth. The thought that had been growing steadily stronger sprang to the forefront of his mind instead: despite what her origin may be, despite the power she represented, this small being was clearly an individual of her own. If he did not help and protect the individuals, what good was it to protect a country? He had seen what a single man could do to a nation, how many individuals could be sacrificed in the name of the greater good. In the Great War he had accepted this, and in the second though he had done his duty, he had wondered. This new Grail War made him question things even more. He wanted to ask the Grail something in response, and formed the—

Flash.

Treachery. Betrayal. Call it what you will, (Yes. I knew it. I knew it all too well) but he had nothing but the purest hatred and contempt for those who would not only abandon their allies, but do it purely for selfish gain. Perhaps it was indeed the nature of this War, but he had seen atrocities committed by those with higher mandates than any of his so-called allies. Evil was evil, even within the questionably moral gray zone that true warfare represented. He knew, from having asked, what the young girl wished for. He knew what pacts he had made, and had intended to honor. He knew the perhaps alone of the Masters, Robert shared his sense of ideals, and that at least with him his sense of trust was not misplaced.

Fury filled his actions, allowed him to survive a trap that was assuredly designed to annihilate him. He’d reminisce on the disgustingly high death-toll later. It did not make it any easier that his men died willingly for him, but he focused his emotions on those who had necessitated such loss of life. They thought they had gotten away cleanly, but if they thought they could outrun him, a master of mechanized warfare…then perhaps he had done too good a job of hiding his identity. (And with my name, it all comes flooding back. The contract I agreed to, the waiting without time for someone worthy to summon me, a second contract made with someone who deserved me though he did not know it yet. The knowledge of the Grail Wars that had been granted to me still had not completely prepared me for actually seeing magic and sorcery cast about as if it were commonplace. Still, though, much of my hard-won and extensive experience in military endeavors served me just as well here. The intimate and small nature of this brutal conflict, however, was markedly different, and I found myself slowly but assuredly changing as a result… but why these memories, why now? What was my subconscious trying to tell me?) Mentally I contacted Robert, and began a wild chase as I exceeded the speed maximums that such vehicles were prone to in mundane life. I would get the young Grail back, and Robert and I would ensure that her wish saw its fruition—I suspected she had a plan, and I had come through long talks with Robert to realize some flaws with my own. Perhaps history could be changed, but I’d be lying if I said I could truly know what path the world be set on by even a minor change, let alone as large of a one as I had previously dreamed. But that was for later, for now I had to focus and get back the girl…

…as I had thought, she had a solution. Before I even turned to Robert I knew he would feel the same way I did, and that before vocalizing it we were committed to this new cause. It was not telepathy, or magic, or anything of the kind. It was simply the bond that two men could grow in the furnace of combat, an understanding that went to a deeper, more visceral level. Trust didn’t even begin to describe it…

…to give Robert the dignity he deserved. But staring straight ahead was harder than I’d care to admit. I had assumed he would be with me to the bitter end, that one way or another he and I shared a fate that would see this war in to the conclusion. But Robert was his own man, and he had made a decision knowing full well the costs. To do anything other than respect that decision would be an unforgivable blow against the man I had come to rely upon. Robert trusted me to finish the mission, potentially by myself, and if I had needed further incentive, I certainly did no longer. Taking the small girl by her hand, we strode off as I sensed energies swelling behind me. I had to continue moving forward, and seeking what lay beyond the horizon…

…had thought Karna a challenge, but had not reckoned with the immense amount of power Cadmus had held contained within himself. I dimly understood the concept that we lay within my own psyche made manifest, a magical alternate universe of my inner soul. But even within here, we were barely a match for the fury of the dragon that had been Cadmus. I was down to the last Tiger, as it barreled along at breakneck speeds, keeping just barely ahead of the pure death that was a manifestation of war in all its form roiled behind us. The dragon swoops, and I know that in mere seconds that I would leap from it and use Assassin’s true sword form to strike a deadly, desperate last blow.

But that moment did not come. Instead, the air takes on an indescribable hue, and everything slows to a gradual halt. I turn my head slowly, taking in the sight of a ravaged, endless battlefield, sunset in front, chaos to the rear, and an immense serpent swooping down in the middle. More magic, I assume, to have frozen things such, but then I spot the movement.

It had been a welcome shock when he had originally appeared, summoned to fight beside me again as had the rest of my most faithful allies. I had known Robert had left the war when I felt the surge of power his three Command Seals bequeathed to me before the connection severed, helping once again ensure I carried out my mission. I did not know his exact fate, but I had felt he had taken fatal wounds before making his final act. Mourning a fallen comrade got no easier with repetition, but what seemed the foregone conclusion of his demise somehow hit me harder than any I had experienced before.

However, I look to the side. That Robert remains here still, frozen in place like the others gripping to the top of the battle tank. This new one approaches, and as he does lines of something seem to emanate from him.

As he steps within meters of me, they spring out, forming a perfect circle that encapsulates us, and then exudes a thin, wavy line that separates us into two roughly equal but asymmetric halves. He acknowledges me with a wan smile, and offers me a contrastingly smart salute that I reflexively return.

“Everything that came before this was a memory, but this never happened at the battle with Cadmus. What are you, if not a dream?” I finally find my voice.

“I don’t think that’s really the question at hand, and I suspect you know that too, Rider.”

“I suppose you’re right. It doesn’t make a difference whether you are a manifestation of my unconscious, or really Robert intruding into my mind. Clearly this was a conversation that needed to happen.”

“Indeed, my friend. I’m sure you’ve realized it…after all this time to think about it, heh, I sure have. I suspect you were surprised to find me as a Master, so unprepared and unaware. I was certainly shocked to find myself thrust into your company and this war. But it seems the Grail truly does match Servant and Master in a way not at all random. You and I…you’ve allowed me to see the parts of me I never truly acknowledged. We are truly both soldiers. But not completely alike. I never wanted to enter another war, whereas as best I understand it you were only too happy to reenter you second, and now your third.”

“You’re partly right. Or maybe I’m simply lying to myself about my reservations. You’re quite correct, all this time has given me the perspective to consider the last few years of my life in a new light. You’re also right that though I see much of myself in you, and in some ways you are also a mirror image. I wonder if had not just a few things been different early in my life, I would not have ended up much closer to being like you, Robert. I think, at the start of the war, I would have said this would be a bad thing. But I’ve learned much since then.”

Robert offered up a much truer, genuine smile at this. “It really has been an honor to serve with you, Rider. As I’ve said, I certainly didn’t expect it, but if I ask myself if I would avoid if could go back and choose…heh, well, I’m certainly not as sure as I once was. After seeing how your men feel about you, and learning about your history, it means a lot to have been among those summoned back.”

I felt a strong urge to step forward towards the man, whatever he truly was, but I also sensed that to move forward and break the balance the lines on the ground had made would be unwise. I held my ground as I thought carefully over what he had just said.

“Yes, Robert, you were summoned back here alongside all my most loyal men and soldiers. But I think it’s a mistake to think of yourself as like them. No, what I summoned back were the truest of my allies, from every encounter I had. For better or for worse, as you’ve seen, I’ve had few of those who held my rank, and none who were higher. You, I think, may be the exception. You alone may have been my equal.”

Robert looked initially shocked at this, but managed to hold his composure well. The lines that bordered us seemed to shift and shimmer, perhaps in response.

“But, as I’ve said, we are different, you and I,” I continued. “For the second time, you’ve left a war behind to pursue other things, and if that is what you truly wish then I offer you my best wishes that you find satisfaction in this. Myself, I leave my third war and enter into guardianship, and the role entails potential fighting. I’ve spent my entire existence, and now time after it should have ended, perfecting the art of warcraft. I fear it’s too late to turn my attention to anywhere else.”

Robert took some time to consider my words carefully.

“There’s a key difference, I think, in choosing to pursue something, versus feeling you have no other choice. We often have roles thrust upon us…ha, again, I know that all too well. But how we act during it, and how we comport ourselves, and the justifications we use in the process…you’ve taught me a lot about these things, Rider.”

“In all fairness, Robert, this war and my experiences with you have also made me shift some of my views. I’ve learned of new reasons to fight, if nothing else. To answer your implicit question: I am at peace with my path. Thinking back on this experience…I can’t have known it when I agreed to this afterlife, but perhaps it’s exactly what I needed. A new perspective on how and why I do what I do best. The knowledge that protecting one person, that risking everything for just a single moment, can be just as pivotal as an entire nation at war. That is knowledge not easily won, and I don’t think either of us would have reached that point without the other to travelling alongside.”

“We will walk separate paths now, Rider.”

“Indeed. But, look around you.” He gestured to the remainder of the Reality Marble, assuredly about to collapse as soon as time reasserted himself, and then pointed out the frozen Robert. “We will go our own ways, and I may never see you again, but the moments we spent together mean our fates are forever intertwined. Somewhere, somehow, you and I shall always be riding together, overcoming whatever obstacles may spring our way. A dragon couldn’t stop us, after all!”

For the first time in the entire conversation, Robert visibly relaxed and left out a low chuckle that was quickly joined by my more resounding laugh. The lines flared again, and began contracting…

…his stance and bearing made me question my initial impression. The way he had listened to my explanations carefully and with clear analysis being performed in his head. The fact he had not seem as flustered as civilians typically are when confronted with armed soldiers. All of this pointed to him likely have martial experience of his own. Perhaps this pairing had more chance than I had assumed. I held out my hand, which the man quickly took.

“So, Robert, will you join me on this quest to win the this War? I admit, I’ve been on the losing side twice before, but I believe I can say with certainty this was no fault of my own. If we play this right, and use our strengths, I think you will find we can blaze a trail of glory so bright none can keep up with us. I don’t ask you to believe in luck, or magic, or anything as silly as that. I ask you to believe in ourselves, and our abilities. Together, you and I, I believe we are to truly achieve something great. We shall make a mark upon this earth that none who come after will ever forget.”

Robert nodded. They shook. The pact was made, and the Grail War began.

[hthemc]

Demarcations

It’s a new year.

For a long time, or maybe not so long but for a significant time, I had a strong mentality that things like this were pretty meaningless. I saw people using it as an excuse to better themselves, to make decisions or significant gestures. To myself, I wondered what made it so different now than before. If something was that important, why wait?

I spent the turn of millennium at a parent’s friend house, glued to a book (I think the Crystal Eye by Deborah Chesterfield, apparently not important enough to even have its own Wikipedia page. Perhaps I should go back and read it again someday). In retrospect, to have greeted a new millennium in such a fashion seemed supremely appropriate for 11-year old me. At the time, though, I felt a small measure of guilt upon the startling realization that people were celebrating this supposedly momentous event while I was tucked away in a corner reading. It had felt like I had messed up a little.

Many, many years later I would rationalize it away by thinking: what does the day actually mean? The millennial turn only matters on a Gregorian, Jesus-centric calendar. The start of the year is fairly arbitrary, even if the measure of a year itself is not. In fact, a lot of the time when we give weight to are fairly meaningless given the designations are purely arbitrary, as we've made up the numbers ourselves. It didn't matter that I’d wasted such a moment because, after all, by my logic the moment hadn't been any different than any other night.

I think I've moved away from that mentality.

Many things we take for important, besides dates and times, are fairly arbitrary. Many of the things we hold dear, things like justice and love and anniversaries, are all self-created but meaningful despite, or perhaps because of this.

We live in a world that is chaotic and often by nature meaningless. It is not so wrong to attempt to inject some measure of control or significance into things, and if by doing so someone can make a positive change or finally set off on something significant they meant to do, then well…it’s surely better than never doing it at all.

I have no resolutions to make that I didn't make weeks or months ago. I don’t think 2015 will by itself make anything better. But I do hope for a better year, for many things I've wanted to come to fruition, and for life to improve not just myself but for many of my friends and family who had a rough 2014. If the new year does mark a turning point for you, or a moment for that decision you've been putting off: I wish you only the best of the luck.

Happy New Year, everyone.

[hthemc]

flame

my mind is afire i would think it would burn up but it seems i produce thoughts too fast and they burn quite well my mind is aflame only you seem to douse it not a stream of water, no but a drenched cloth cooling me with your forceful embrace just enough my mind is afire i do not mind it so most of the time but i sometimes wish it would burn a little less bright if just for a while but if that fire ever goes out then would i realize the mistake and wish for heat once more i hope it would not be too late but no fire burns forever