Red Vines

So I'm going back to college next Monday. And I'm not going to have any friends. I'd be all right with this - after all, no one goes to community college to make friends, right? - but frankly, I've been experiencing a form of social isolation that's so painful it physically hurts me and I don't like it. So naturally I've got to do something about it.

Well, a few weeks ago, I'd read something somewhere on the internet that a good way to make friends in college is to bring candy on the first day of classes and offer it to people. You'll be known as "the candy person", which is a great thing to be, yeah? Yeah it is.

So I'd been wondering if I should do that (is it too weird? too out-there? too disruptive?) and I've come to the conclusion that yes, yes I should do that. What could it hurt, eh?

And you know what candy I'm gonna bring?

Red Vines.

I got this idea - well, actually, no, I was given this idea by my friend Arija. I was telling her about my resolve to be the "candy person" and she said to bring Red Vines.

I know why she said Red Vines.

It was because of the Red Vines thing.

Have I explained the Red Vines thing? No, I haven't. Let me explain the Red Vines thing. What happened was, when I was on holiday with my aunt last month, I made a joke about buying a thing of Red Vines at an office store (we went there for reasons). She said no. Because that's a lot of Red Vines and it's expensive. Four pounds of bloody Red Vines. Four pounds. Of Red Vines. Four physical pounds.

But guess what she gave me later, when we had gotten back home?

Yes. Red Vines. She got me four literal pounds of Red Vines.

We still haven't eaten all the Red Vines yet. I mean I've been eating lots of them and we're still inundated with Red Vines at my house.

So you know what? I'm going to take said Red Vines, and I'm going to take them to school.

Show up at my math class like, "Hi, want some Red Vines?"

Next day, to my English class. "Hi, want some Red Vines?"

And then to Political Science. "Want some Red Vines?"

Music Appreciation. "Red Vines?"

They're all gonna get Red Vines.

And you know what, that'll kill two birds with one stone! I'll get the Red Vines out of my house because how are we going to get rid of that much Red Vines AND, if what I read someplace on the internet is correct, I'll make friends by being the candy person!

Yes, this brilliant! I'll make friends by giving them the Red Vines we don't want.

Bless you, Arija. Bless you and your suggestion of Red Vines.

Messed-up and in-love

A situation came up in which the subject of love and messed-up people being in love came up in my mind. Specifically, how sometimes messed-up people fall in love with others and realize that they're messed-up and thus intend to change it for the sake of the person they're in love with. I mean, they could change it in a healthy way or an unhealthy way, but the point is that they think, "Oh, I'm in a relationship with this person, I'd better change for the sake of this relationship." Or sometimes it's not even because you're in a relationship with proper relationship dynamics, sometimes it's just because you love somebody and realize that the potential of the relationship with them or even just the fact of their existence motivates you to clean up the mess of your own life.

I'm aromantic and emotionally muted besides, so I can only look at these things and wonder about them. People like that, do they know their lives are a mess before love happens to them? If they do, then did they try to change before but couldn't, or maybe they didn't care to change until the extent to which they valued this person gave them suitable motivation. I can't imagine what it must be like to love someone so much that they would make you want to help yourself in ways you hadn't wanted to help yourself before, or hadn't been able to help yourself before. Or maybe it's not that you love that person an awful lot, maybe it's because you just didn't care about yourself. But that still dictates that you love that person 1. more than you love yourself and 2. to something resembling a great degree (even if it's only "great" by your own standards). Which is still something.

Or maybe you don't realize you were messed up prior to the other person. Maybe they serve as a sort of contrast to yourself. I hate suggesting that the literary trope of a beautifully uncorrupted person entering the life of an unhappy wreck, but imagine a toned-down sort of version of that happening. A realistic version. Someone falling in love and realizing that their state isn't the norm and wanting that to be different because this person's state has allowed them to see it. 

Or maybe this person finally makes you love something in this world and starts making you care. Breaks through a layer of apathy and lack of concern for anything, your own state included. Makes you realize you ought to change. Gives you the motivation to do so. Is that realistic? Does that happen? I've heard acquaintances of mine saying it's happened to them. How common is it?

My view of these things is probably quite tainted by notions I've gotten from fiction and music and stuff (I've been listening to the Magnetic Fields more lately, and their stuff tends to make me think more about love and romance and other things I don't feel, yeah). So maybe my understanding of how these things occur isn't even based in reality. But the reality I've observed does confirm that situations like I'm imagining do happen. So you know.

It's late and I'm thinking about things of which I'm merely an outside observer. Wondering how things are, really. How love is. How it changes people, maybe. Or how it makes people change themselves as well.

Pageviews and publishing

This blog recently got to 3,000 pageviews. Which isn't an awful lot, but for a no-name writer who knows that virtually no one reads this stuff anyway, that's kind of nice. I'm kind of glad about that.

Also, I'm considering compiling my previously-published poems and stories (and maybe a few photos too) into a book and self-publishing it. Probably using the website LuLu or something. So anyone who likes and who has the money can look at my writing and art. Would that be a cool thing to do? I think it would be a cool thing to do. It may be a thing that happens.

My kind of hero

I was thinking the other day about what a heroic fictional character whose ability to experience love, emotions, and fulfillment was similar to mine.

I concluded that such a character would be pretty depressive/nihilistic and not be able to experience love for anyone or anything. While they might have a few things that gave them superficial pleasure, none of it would be enough to motivate them to live or give them real fulfillment. All they really want is to not be alive anymore. Nevertheless, they would act altruistically because, for some reason, they didn't choose to kill themself and they chose to act for other people's happiness because they know that they'll never be able to achiever happiness for themself. Everyone assumes they act out of great love and selflessness but it's really the opposite. They act because they can't love or be happy. 

That's what a "good guy" character whose way of experiencing love and emotions was similar to mine would look like. I don't know every single fictional character out there, but I don't know of any who's like this. I doubt anyone would want that character to exist anyway. I mean, at best they wouldn't understand this character, and at worst they'd be repelled by someone whose way of perceiving the world was so alien and so counter to everything we think of as "heroic" and "good".

And thus I am stuck with relating to people who are bad for themselves or others because that's all people like me have. Perhaps I shouldn't be looking for validation in fictional characters because that's fiction, that's not real life, but...well, it's much easier to know things about fictional characters than real people, and I think that any real life people to whom I would relate for these reasons might be worse than some of the fictional ones. 

I would write a character like this, but to write a character, I need to be able to personally understand them, and frankly (maybe due to the lack of representation of such people in fiction, maybe not) I can't comprehend anyone whose actions consist mainly of good ones. Such a character would be a hero. I can't comprehend a hero enough to write one. Maybe that's reasonable, as the mere concept of a hero is a pretty idealistic one. Then again, cynicism is not always deep and idealism is not always dumb.

I don't suppose a story like that would ever get published anyway. I guess people like anti-heroes, but they don't necessarily want anti-heroes who are like that. They like good people who doubt themselves and have flaws but do the right thing in the end, and they like people who act in the name of good and morality but whose actions are a bit questionable, but I don't know of anybody who wants someone whose actions are altruistic but who's dead on the inside. Again, confused at best, repelled at worst.

This is what happens when you're such an uncommon individual. People may be interested to hear some of what you have to say, but much of it will be strange to them, and they will always look at you as an outside and never see themselves or the rest of the world as they understand it reflected in what your life has to say. 

Albertson's

My family and I are currently on holiday. My grandparents, aunt and uncle, cousin, and I have all gone to Ashland, Oregon, for the Shakespeare festival. We didn't go to see a Shakespeare play; we actually went to see a play adaptation of A Wrinkle in Time (which is my favorite book and which was adapted so brilliantly). In addition to seeing the play, we've gone around the town and to places in towns nearby. It's been nice. We've done fun things, the sort of things that don't happen at home.

But today, we did something that we don't normally do on holidays.

We went to Albertson's.

Now, this normally doesn't happen to me when I'm on holiday. Going to Albertson's, I mean. We don't normally find ourselves needing to get anything at the grocery store. But we needed one of those giant packages of bottled water, so we went to Albertson's to get it.

When we walked in, I just had to stand at the front of the store and process my situation. For reference - we had just come from the site of a Shakespeare festival, which had been preceded by a scenic drive through some farmland, which itself had been preceded by walking around a small town with old buildings and beautiful architecture and antique shops and suchlike. You know. Cool stuff. The sort of stuff you go on holiday for.

And here we were. At the most mundane place I can possibly think of.

Albertson's.

I wasn't disappointed. Truth be told, I was actually pretty entertained by the whole situation. I have a tendency to notice ironies and strange juxtapositions and...well, that's what the whole thing felt like. Stuff like this is what my life is all about. And I don't mean like it's the meaning of my life or what my goal in life is. I mean it's what the gist of my life's events are like. Basically, my life consists of me getting myself into things that are mostly mundane but have some sort of unusual quality that makes them amusing and a little bit surreal, and I just roll with it and have a good time while I'm at it.

I occupied myself by wandering off from the rest of the group to look at laundry detergent and window spray and stare at it and examine it like it was the most fascinating, amazing stuff ever. I was hoping that someone might come by and think, "Who is this person and why are they so fascinated by the laundry detergent and window spray?" I like making other people's lives a little more surreal. 

The others bought water bottles and some things that weren't water bottles. My aunt took a curiously long time ordering a Starbucks. My grandma suggested we get frozen dinners and my uncle suggested we not because this is our vacation and we eat frozen dinners at home all the time, vacation is the time to do things you don't normally do. He ended up ordering us pizza when we got back to our hotel.

I'm sitting here thinking about the fact that, of all the memories I'm going to have of this trip, the fact that we went to an Albertson's is one of them. I'm more than okay with that.

Four tubes of Chapstick.

I have four tubes of Chapstick in one pocket.

I am irrationally happy about this situation. It is bringing me great satisfaction and I'm currently of the mindset that nothing short of truly insurmountable tragedy could make me unhappy right now, because of the fact that I have four tubes of Chapstick in one pocket.

I don't understand this reaction to having four tubes of Chapstick in one pocket, but I'm not going to question it, because I have a history of responding strangely to small and/or ridiculous things like this.

It's sort of a paradox because I'm a naturally very depressive person when it comes to the large things (sometimes in a way that makes sense when the large things are viewed from a realistic standpoint, sometimes in a way that only makes sense when you factor in that I am in fact clinically depressive). But when it comes to the small things, I get happier than makes any degree of sense and it makes my whole mood one of indomitable joy. Like a feeling that the world is a good and happy place (or at least has a lot of potential to be) and that everything is right with the universe.

I learned long ago not to question happiness and to take it when I can get it.

Therefore, I will not question why having four tubes of Chapstick in one pocket makes me so happy.

Relationships, the past, and uncertainty.

I miss the way my friendships and relationships used to be, and I'm not sure if they aren't that way anymore because I just currently don't have around me the right people or if it's to do with the fact that I've gotten older and whatever made the old friendships so special is age-specific, one of those things you can't get back when you get older.

I'm okay if it's something I can't get back because I've grown up, I'll accept that if that's the case, and I'll accept it with grace. It's just not knowing that terrifies me. If and when I know, I'll be able to correctly understand and predict the nature of whatever future relationships I might have. I'll know if there's something in particular to look forward to. If I can expect things to be as they were in the past. Because things don't happen the same way twice, but sometimes certain events are repeated just because they're events that happen to people with a relative degree of frequency, so it makes sense it should happen to you again.

It's making me a bit nervous due to some writing projects that I've gotten myself into that rely upon the premise that I understand friendship and relationships well enough to write a fictional example of one that 1. reads fairly realistically (i.e. you can imagine it being real without a whole lot of suspension of disbelief), and 2. says some things about the nature of friendships and human interactions in general. It's because - and I think a lot of writers do the same - I tend to write examples of things to say something about the thing of which they're an example. A character serves as a reflection of humanity, a situation proves something about how humans react to things, a relationship says something about how people interact with and in relation to each other. It's based on relationships I've had in the past, which is all well and good (sensible, I should think), but I realized that I was much younger than I am now and much younger than the characters in the story when those took place, so...were they like the way they were just because I happened to be lucky enough to meet certain people? Was it because I was young and certain things happen to you only when you're young? Was it because I was young and thus not as jaded about interpersonal interactions as experience and time have made me, and that someone whose experience wasn't the same as mine might be able to experience something much like I did at a different time in my life?

What is realistic for me to imagine for the future and what has been lost with time?

I just wish I knew.