The Book of the Geek.

"Optimus Prime would die for you, and he doesn't even know who you are."

So the question is, what would you do for Optimus.

My talk with Uniblogger.

So Uniblogger just posted this on his blog. I have a lot to say about it. So this is what Uniblogger said:

Being special

Who ever told you that you were special is a liar. We are not snow flakes everyone being different. Our minds are to complex full of different thoughts to be anything different from anybody else. No idea is unique and no feeling has not been felt. We all fall in and out of "love". The sooner we understand that the better.
This idea of being special has warped our world into this false scence of intilement. Everyone feeling they deserve respect or happiness or "love". All the while we have done nothing to earn it. What do we think being nice to people should be rewarded? Being nice should be listed as a duty. It should just be something we do even if it goes unrewarded.
The other day I was at school and there was a precher on campus preaching his religion. A member of the faith a subscribe to was there listening and then began to get confrontational with the preacher. Did this kid think he was special because he had the "truth"? Did this preacher feel because he was saved he was intitled to tell us how to live our lives? Did the fact that both these two who obviously don't study their own religion, give them a right to try and force there beliefs on others? Did they have a right to act unchristian like in the name of christianity? No. No they did not. They are nothing special. Arguing the same points of doctrine that has gone on sence the begining.
I can't be intitled, expecting these two not to argue infront of me. I'm nothing special. I have to sit and listen just like everyone else. We are a world of dreamers thinking that the next big thing for us is just around the corner. Fighting so hard to be different when we would change into something else that somebody already is. Stop trying to be different. Be who you and ninety other be are. You don't deserve to be happy, you just owe it to yourself.

Then I said:

Your talking out of your butt, and I'm going to call you on it. I'm special. There is something inside of me that keeps telling me so. The entire world has tried to shut that voice up. I've even tried. But that punk voice just will not die.

Now does that mean that everyone is special? I tend to subscribe to "The Incredibles." philosophy. If everyone is special then no one is. Some people are special. History has taught me that much.

Now as to what I'm supposed to do I don't rightly know. If I end up doing nothing then I guess I'm not special. Then that annoying little voice will have been wrong. But until then I'm stuck with the voice, it wont go away. So I keep living.

There are feelings that only I feel. Things that only I know. Not that they have been totally unknown to others, but my perspective is unique. As a aspiring writer I sometimes am angered by the Greeks. It seems that they did EVERYTHING first, and they did EVERYTHING best. Or at least that's the way some might tell it. I can't live in world without the promise of newness. I can't live in a world without the hope of originality.

So what I'm saying is that if your right, Uniblogger, I might as well end it all now. And so might you and the rest of the world. Even if your right though, I refuse to believe it. My refusal individualizes me. And the individual amongst the crowd is special.

I mean why would you want to beat yourself up with thoughts like this. Are you a glutton for punishment? Now I am all for getting rid of people's sense of entitlement. It's an awful thing, when in excess. There must be moderation in all things.

You don't have to earn everything, you don't have to do things just because it is your duty. We are not here to be servants, ordered about on the whims of a master. Our existence is much grander than that.

Optimism is a new world for me. One I never thought I'd enter. But as I mentioned in my blog. I was content to live as I had always lived "Until someone holds up a mirror" and I see myself. And I didn't like what I saw. So I'm on this journey to make a better me. You've helped me on that journey. I only hope I can be of some help to you.

I've spent time in diverse places. As I, a stranger in a strange land, walked about I saw things, felt things, thought things. I had moments of profound enlightenment. Others around me didn't share in that. I felt as though I was walking above a mist of darkness. It saddened me that others did not see what I saw. So many people. People who should have been able to. I thought it wrong for me to learn things, to be so blessed by what was given me. Especially when others could not share in it. I tried to share, but they were not apt.

Now these two religious arguers. They sound annoying to me. I sometimes wish that the there were not people like them in the world. But that is not for me to decide. I just have to find someway to live. And I guess you do to. Perhaps you can't live in a world where there are special people. So you decide what is in your world like I've decided what's in mine. Whatever gets you through the day.

Haircuts are nice.

They make you feel good and clean and new.

Everyone needs a new start every once in a while.

In defense of the shy.

There was a new hire at my place of work. He seems very quiet. I guess I seemed that way to when I first started working there. One person commented on that fact. They said that the new guy was almost more quiet than I was.

What's wrong with that?!

I have a two friends. One is dating a girl who hasn't said to much to us. The other mentioned that point when we were discussing our first impressions of her. I asked him if he had a problem with shy people. He kinda sputtered and didn't have anything else to back up what he said. Some months have gone by and whenever we talk about this girl my friend keeps bringing up the fact that she seems shy. Like there is something wrong with her. Like "Whoa, she's shy. That's a problem."

Over the span of my life I have found that most people are apprehensive about shy persons. Like they are broken, or they're a wild animal that is going to snap at any moment. They seem to act as though there is something wrong with the shy. Almost like their not human.

Different people have different ideas about how to deal with shy people. Some think they need to bombard the person with social situations to "bring them out of it." Like it's a sickness to be cured. Others try to avoid the shy person and take steps to further isolate the individual. Both of these actions are inappropriate, cruel, and offensive.

Shy people don't need you to fix them. Maybe they'll ask for help but if their anything like me, unless they ask, they don't want help. I've made my shy bed, and I've learned to sleep in it. That's not saying I'm happy about it. But we all have to learn to walk our own lives. Changing a major personality behavior is not as simple as changing a light bulb. Most shy people are dealing with their shyness the best way that they can as they can. When the time comes to get help, should the need it, they'll ask.

Avoiding the person is just as bad. You'll just make them feel more awkward and self conscious. Just treat the person like normal. Unless your dealing with a basket case you can talk to them and they'll respond. Probably with only the bare minimum required to make sense, but they'll respond. And FYI, basket cases are not going to be out walking around so you likely wont encounter them.

Shyness is not a crime, it's not a sin, it's not a sickness. For many it's a state of being. For me it's as second nature as breathing. Would I wish it different. I would. But to change it would take a time machine. And life is like an intricate tapestry. Pull one thread and the entire thing is changed, ruined even. If being freed from my shyness meant losing a valued personal trait. I'd stay me, I'd stay shy.

In Search of Meaning.

When I was young I faced adversity. I know that others have faced much worse trials that I can't even begin to imagine. But the greater hardships of others do not change the reality of what I went through. I'm not trying to boast that I had it hard. It's not a "who had the toughest life" competition. What I am saying is that through it all I got the impression that something was working against me.

Now the feeling that I have always had is a feeling that I was supposed to do something with my life. I felt that my life had a meaning to it. I just didn't know what it was. To this day I still don't. Yet I can't shake that feeling. I don't know where it comes from. I wonder if it comes from the oppression I mentioned above. If there was indeed something working against me, if it was trying to stop me. Well it would seem that would indicate that I was supposed to do something.

Now perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps this feeling is just selfish pride. Perhaps everyone feels the way I do. But I don't want to believe that. I can't. Because it would mean that all that I went through was for nothing. That this life is for nothing. Now even if that's true I don't want to believe that.

Just 20 short minutes.

I have 20 minutes to write something remarkable. 20 minuets to write something that will last forever in the minds and hearts of those who read it. 20 minutes to etch my feelings into the electrons of the etherical internet. Just 20 minutes to reach out hoping for someone to grasp on to my words. That my meaning might be shared with them.

15 minutes now. Until I have to leave this computer and go on with my day. I'll be wondering later if what I'm doing now has made a difference. For someone who has gone through life painfully unseen I yearn to make a impact. 15 minutes to impress my self upon you, my dear readers. 15 minutes to convey the grandness of fleetingness. It's like a whirlwind, like saying goodbye at the airport, like looking for a lifeboat on a sinking ship. The end is already insight, it's already here. You can see it, but your not ready. There is so much more to do, so much more to say.

But now it's only 10 minutes. 10 minutes until it's over. Watching the clock robs you of time. I wanted to very quickly say something in this blog entry. I wanted it to be profound. I had nothing in my mind to say. And so I babbled perhaps all I'm doing is grasping at straws. When time is short it becomes very precious. But as dear as my time is I wanted to share it with you. I wanted to glory in life. Such as it is, for all that it is. Even for all that it isn't. When time is short there can be no mourning for what is lost. Right now my minutes are sliding away. Even though what I say here will stay long after.

Time is the blood of Life. Beware of Vampires.

Five Songs from my iPod IV (The Quadrilogy)

#1- "Your Call." by Secondhand Serenade.
Gooey emotional stuff. I hear it, but I don't feel it.

#2- "Coming Too Close." by No Use For A Name.
Teen angst. A band for when the world vexes you.

#3- "The Angel Opens Her Eyes." by Live.
Not really sure what this song is about. Something about a storm, and the birth of a child. Some mother dies, and another arises? But it's a cool sounding song.

#4- "For The Movies." by Buckcherry.
"One more chance to make it for the movies." One last chance to make some part of this life worthwhile, just like they do it in the movies.

#5- "Walking the Streets of DC." by Good Charlotte.
Eh.