Endurance, endurance, endurance...kids?

I can't believe I'm writing this right now.  I have a paper and a monstrous French assignment looming over me, and, yet, here I am, fulfilling my weekly blog assignment.

I am exhausted right now.  Currently, I've been awake for 45 hours straight (a number that will continue to swell until much later tonight).  As you can imagine, insightful blog entries aren't the easiest things to create when you're so tired that you can barely will your fingers to keep typing...

But let's not dwell on the negative.  There are some joyous things about sleep-deprivation, you know.  For instance, I tend to say/type extremely nonsensical things when I've been lacking sleep for long enough (and these instances make for highly enjoyable stories in the future).  So, you see?  Sleep-deprivation is fun for the whole family!  Now, if only it didn't make me want to simultaneously throw myself off a cliff...

Right now, I'm in that stage where my eyes are continually closing, and I'm mildly unaware of my surroundings.  It's quite enjoyable.  I anticipate hallucinations soon (although, typically, those don't arrive until the 70-hour mark).

Well, dear reader, my brain has not been processing coherent thoughts for the past few days, so I dare not continue this horrid blog entry (for fear that I might unleash something horribly insane).

Thanks for reading!  Sorry this was a disappointment!

Good...night...?!

Windows

Ah, yes.  I've hit the one-week deadline, and, sadly, I really have nothing to say.  I guess that means it's time to ramble mindlessly for a few paragraphs in order to meet my blog quota.  Feel free to stop reading now.  Seriously.

Anyway, sometimes, I wonder why I write.  I'm very passionate about my writing, so I suppose that should be reason enough...  But, for the sake of continuing this entry for more than five sentence, let's explore a little further.

Most obviously, I write to express myself.  I'm not terribly outspoken or opinionated, and I tend to internalize things.  In my writing, I can capsulize feelings and ideas that normally would have been suppressed.  Why do you think this blog even exists?  Certainly, I could go around screaming my blog ideas in peoples' faces (although I can see some potential awkwardness there), but I imagine that that would be fun for no one--least of all, me.  Beyond blog entries, I often create short stories to explore certain aspects of humanity that I don't see in my everyday life; these don't necessarily include things I'm thinking or feeling, but they are a part of me nonetheless.  The stories help me channel my own feelings--which, as I mentioned previously, are internalized a great deal--into something much more complex.  With the stories, I can escape my own thoughts and take part in an entirely different world--a fleeting moment in another time and place.  It's cathartic, really.

So, I droned on about self-expression for a paragraph now.  Good.  But what else?  I suppose persuasion must play a role in there somewhere.  "Hey guys, read this blog entry and listen to my thoughts and PLEASE DO EVERYTHING I SAY BECAUSE I KNOW BEST."  (That was probably one of my more subtle persuasive arguments.)  So, yes, I use writing to persuade--in varying degrees of ambiguity--and to try to solve the problems that I might normally leave untouched.

There's more to it than that, though.  One of my favorite things about writing is that it helps me capture the small, insignificant moments in life.  It helps me remember the time when my friend and I went for a walk and got caught in a thunderstorm, forcing us to sprint home through the sheets of rain and the flashes of lightning.  It reminds me of the time when we had a power outage at my house, and my family sat together and played board games.  Writing can immortalize all of those little moments: a conversation that lasts all night, a newly-developed relationship, or even just a passing comment to a friend in the hallway.  I love writing about things that can't be captured with a photograph--things that we tend to overlook in comparison to grander events in our lives.  Writing does these things justice.

So, I don't suppose I made any terribly important insights into life with this entry.  I doubt it was even worth your time, really.  It was more of a semi-coherent jumble of thoughts than it was an enlightening view of anything significant.  Fortunately, though, it helped me sort a few things out (although that might not have been particularly apparent while you were reading).  I always feel better after I write, whether or not the results are entirely successful.  So, even though you're probably shrieking with disgust (I imagine that's what your natural reaction would be...) about the distinct lack of quality in this entry, I'm satisified with it.

In short, I'm sorry if you were hoping for something shockingly insightful.  Maybe next time...

Say It's Possible

Sometimes, I wonder what's going on in peoples' minds when they say the things that they do. Why don't people think before spouting off whatever meaningless comments that pop into their heads? Is it really that difficult to weigh--however briefly--the impact of your words before you say them?

Stupid question, I suppose.

This is something that has always bothered me. At the risk of sounding like I have a superiority complex, I'd like to assert that I've always handled this issue with great care. It's a personality trait, I guess. My desire to avoid conflict has taught me to be very careful with my words, so as not to offend anyone.

Tact. What a novel concept--a concept that seems, quite sadly, to be foreign to certain people. Whether it's complete disregard for others' feelings or just simple ignorance of the gravity of their statements, many people--in my humble opinion--need to brush up on the art of being tactful.

Let's launch into a vivid, horribly exaggerated example, shall we?
Eugene: Hey guys, sorry I'm late!
Francesca: Oh, it's alright. We really didn't even notice--or CARE--that you weren't here!

Ouch. Again, I admit that that was a fairly unrealisitic bit of dialog, but it merely serves to illustrate my point. I think that tactlessness often stems from spewing out unnecessary comments. If the lovely Francesca had simply stopped speaking after "Oh, it's alright," Eugene wouldn't have been offended, and everyone would've lived happily ever after. What's that old saying...? "If you don't have anything nice to say...staple your lips together and never bother speaking again." Yeah. I think that's it.

I realize that I'm probably leaning toward the extreme side of things here. Admittedly, I tend to sugarcoat things and distort my comments to please others, perhaps sacrificing a bit of honesty in the process. Is that any better? I can't be sure, but I do know that there's a happy medium to be found here, so keep searching...

To me, it's not a difficult concept. I'm not blunt, outspoken, or very outgoing, so I tend to shy away from speaking my mind, anyway. I know that other people enjoy saying what they think, and that's fine, too. But, on occasion, just ask yourself: is it really worth saying this comment or making this joke? At the end of the day, will it really benefit you all that much? And, more importantly, will it hurt someone else?

Think about it.

Keep a tight grip like a child

Holding onto a swing set,

Waiting and hoping to find

What I can't figure out yet,

Please don't unless this is something you mean,

Another nightmare instead of a dream,

Better left alone.

Coming Up for Air

It’s nice to be needed, plain and simple. This is something I really haven’t given much thought—perhaps because it’s a bit of an intrinsic character trait—but I’ve realized lately just how much I enjoy when people depend on me. I like doing favors for my friends—even simple, unappealing tasks like taking out the trash or cleaning up a room. Obviously, I don’t love splashing around in large piles of garbage (though I assume that most people do)…but completing these chores for someone else feels very rewarding to me.

So, why is this, exactly? Well, thanks to an in-depth analysis of my personality (thank you, Myers-Briggs!), I’ve shed a bit of light on the answer:
“ISFJs [my personality type] are characterized above all by their desire to serve others, their ‘need to be needed.’ In extreme cases, this need is so strong that standard give-and-take relationships are deeply unsatisfying to them…”

I’ve never really thought that about myself before, but I think there is some truth to it. I enjoy helping other people with their problems, but I can’t stand asking for favors myself. It makes me feel selfish and lazy, even though I know I’m entitled—and always welcome—to ask for favors from my friends; however, there’s something vexing about someone wanting to pay me back or “return the favor.” It’s not that I don’t appreciate it… It’s just not something I desire.

Now, that’s not to say that I enjoy being used as a doormat, either (I assume that’s fairly obvious). As previous blog entries will tell you, I do appreciate a simple “thanks” for my efforts. But, in terms of receiving some kind of tangible means of repayment, I’d just rather not. I think people sometimes feel guilty when they ask me for things because they don’t want to take advantage of this fact, but they really shouldn’t. I don’t mind.

Perhaps I should also clarify that I’m mainly talking about my close friends in these situations—people who I trust and for whom I care. It’s not that I’m unwilling to help people I dislike or don’t know, but my friends are the ones for whom I will gladly inconvenience myself on a regular basis.

I guess what I’m trying to say, really, is “ask me for things.” Obviously, the request must be somewhat reasonable (“Hey, Andrew, I forgot my favorite shirt back at my house in California… Can you walk there and get it for me?” is not going to fly.), but I really do want to help.

Ultimately, I hope this blog entry doesn’t make me sound like I’m proclaiming, “Hey, I like to help others and I’m a great person!” That’s not what I’m saying at all. In its most basic form, perhaps this request is really quite selfish; I want to feel needed and fulfilled by helping others. In the end, maybe I’m just seeking personal satisfaction. Perhaps it’s even some sort of deranged form of masochism. Nothing would really surprise me.

Anyway, I digress.

If you want something from me, just ask. I’d be more than willing to help.

Deception as a Second Language

Isn't it funny how often we lie? Well, I suppose it's not actually funny per se, but it strikes me now how frequently we try to deceive both others and ourselves.

Now, I think you're probably pretty familiar with the concept of lying, but let's launch into a brief example, anyway.

Jill has just received the most hideous haircut on the face of this earth. Jack is her boyfriend. The following dialog ensues:
Jill: Hey, I just spent $400,000 on this haircut, and I REALLY think it was worth it! I absolutely love it! What do you think?
Jack: Actually, I think it's terrible. It kind of looks like someone placed some roadkill on your head and tried to pass it off as hair.
And, then, of course, Jill would slaughter Jack on the spot and spend the rest of her days in a dark prison cell. Plus, their relationship would be over. That would suck, wouldn't it?

If you hadn't noticed, that was a bit of an extreme example; however, basic principles still apply here. Wouldn't it have been better for Jack to have simply agreed with Jill (perhaps without her undying enthusiasm, though) and then later have suggested--quite delicately--that she try a different type of haircut? I'm not one to advocate deception, but I also think that preserving someone's feelings is important. I guess it's a tough call.

Anyway, let's move on to the subject of lying to oneself. Self-denial is probably one of my favorite forms of deception. Oftentimes, when I have some sort of huge problem, I attempt to push it from my mind and operate under the assumption that it no longer exists. What's that old adage about ignorance and bliss? I think I'd like to employ that here. I mean, honestly, you can't worry about something if you don't even acknowledge that it's a problem. And--while that might be detrimental in certain situations (i.e. ignoring the fact that you have a giant exam in two days)--isn't it better to just put your mind at ease?

Again, it probably sounds like I'm saying, "Lie to yourself and everyone around you! It's fun! It's easy! Everyone's doing it!" But, really, aren't there situations where a certain amount of deception can be beneficial? We can deceive others to spare their feelings (and to save ourselves from their wrath). We can deceive ourselves to cope with situations that might be too much for us to handle. So, isn't lying, at bottom, just a unique type of defense mechanism?

Obviously, I'm not saying, "Hey, you should go around lying all the time, and then everything will work out for you!" It won't. Still, I just can't convince myself that all forms of deception are harmful all the time.

Does that mean that I should start worrying about lying too much? Well--according to my newfound stance on self-denial--probably not.

It takes more time

Than I've ever had,

Drains the life from me,

Makes me want to forget,

As young as I was,

I felt older back then,

More disciplined,

Stronger and certain,

But I was scared to death of eternity,

I was saved by grace,

But destroyed by naivety,

So, I lied to myself,

And said it was for the best.