"So Hawt"

After reading this post, you'll probably roll your eyes and grin at the sudden "new" "discovery" I made the other day. But I haven't revealed it yet, so you may as well enjoy this in good humor. As another caveat, please don't think I'm boy-crazy after reading this post. It's just when inspiration hits, you can hardly say no.

I have a facebook, you know. I have a friend who had her picture taken with the lead guitarist of some grunge band I've never heard of. The caption on the picture was something to the effect of "so hawt!" When I looked at the picture, I did a double take. Then I did another. While my friend is quite beautiful, the man she was posing with was not someone I would look at and think "Wow, he's so attractive." The same goes for pretty much every band I've ever run across.

Take Muse, for instance. The lead singer, Matt Bellamy, is scrawny. He has a big nose, and his eyes seem to disappear under his brow line. In no way "attractive," "beautiful," or even "hawt." At least, not in pictures. You see, I finally looked up a music video of Muse. Before starting it, I read some comments to the effect of "I am extremely attracted to Matt Bellamy and want to marry him."

Yes, I edited that. I don't enjoy the crudity and unoriginality of Youtube comments. But that's beside the point.

Before watching the video, I'd only seen a picture of Muse and found them decidedly unattractive, despite their incredible music.But then I watched the music video. I was captivated. This man, who has no conventional beauty, was transformed into a fascinating, larger-than-life creature with the most hypnotic presence I've ever encountered. It was achingly beautiful. The comments suddenly made sense.

I'm not saying I'm attracted to Muse. But I think I'm on to something. Because after this realization, I started noticing the guys I'm around a lot, especially the ones girls tend to congregate around. None of them are what Western culture generally considers classically handsome.

Some of them are shorter or lighter-weight than I am ( which is saying something, since I'm 5'5" and 130 lbs). Some of them have facial hair, which isn't fashionable. Some have horrible attitudes. Now, putting aside the cliche of "all girls like bad boys" (which, for my male audience, is a lie. If you want explanation, shoot me an email), the one thing these popular male friends of mine have in common is their charisma.

All of these guys, be it Muse or Escapist or DinosaurMan or Thursday or SirSarcasm or Calvin (or you get the idea), have captivating personalities. When they walk into the room, there's a distinct air of possession that comes with them. The persona is almost overwhelming if you stop to think about it. It's not necessarily arrogant, or cocky, or even annoying. But the person is completely *there*.

That's my "new" "idea." Attraction has next to nothing to do with looks. I know that personally, the guys that I've been attracted to in the past are, quite frankly, ugly. But their personalities completely overshadow the lack of beauty. This is not to say that I am secretly attracted to the guys I listed in the previous paragraph - because I'm not - but they have this charisma in common. It's interesting, and frankly a little weird.

I took so long writing this post that I forgot where I was going with it. In all likelihood, it was going to be something moralicious about having an attractive personality and possessing inner beauty, but I got interested in other things. Point is, I have finished another people-watching project. And this was the result. Hopefully you're not too creeped out about me. :)

B

Butterflies and Hurricanes

Well, this past weekend was the last NCFCA qualifying tournament. I've got to say, it was a strange mixture of really good, and really bad. The last day, Saturday, was particularly frustrating, and I listened to Butterflies and Hurricanes, by Muse, all day.

Enjoy.


Change everything you are
And everything you were
Your number has been called

Fights and battles have begun
Revenge will surely come
Your hard times are ahead

Best, you've got to be the best
You've got to change the world
And use this chance to be heard
Your time is now

Change everything you are
And everything you were
Your number has been called

Fights and battles have begun
Revenge will surely come
Your hard times are ahead

Best, you've got to be the best
You've got to change the world
And use this chance to be heard
Your time is now

Dont let yourself down
And dont let yourself go
Your last chance has arrived

Best, you've got to be the best
You've got to change the world
And use this chance to be heard
Your time is now

Apres Moi

I like Regina Spektor. She's interesting. You never quite know what she's talking about, but she's a talented songwriter and arranger. Enjoy Apres Moi, by Regina Spektor. And go look up the translation of the Russian in the middle of the song.

I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice

Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Après moi, le deluge, after me comes the flood

I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice

Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Après moi le deluge, after me comes the flood

Fevrale dostat chernil i plakat
Pisat O Fevrale navsnryd
Poka grohochushaya slyakot
Vesnoyu charnoyu gorit

Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Après moi le deluge, after me comes the flood

I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, It's not my choice

I must go on stan-stan-ding-ding
You can't, can't break that, that
Which isn't, isn't yours, yours
I'm not, not my own, own
It's not, not my choice, choice

A St. Patrick's Day Blessing

May the blessing of the rain be on you—
the soft sweet rain.
May it fall upon your spirit
so that all the little flowers may spring up,
and shed their sweetness on the air.
May the blessing of the great rains be on you,
may they beat upon your spirit
and wash it fair and clean,
and leave there many a shining pool
where the blue of heaven shines,
and sometimes a star.

 Happy St. Patrick's Day, to all my Irish, Irish-American, or simply Irish-at-heart readers!
B

Long Time Traveller

This song popped up on my Celtic Pandora station the other day. It's beautiful in its simplicity - three radiant voices in harmony. Enjoy Long Time Traveller, by the Wailin' Jennys.

Long Time Traveller:

These fleeting charms of earth
Farewell, your springs of joy are dry
My soul now seeks another home
A brighter world on high

I'm a long time travelling here below
I'm a long time travelling away from home
 I'm a long time travelling here below
To lay this body down

Farewell kind friends whose tender care
Has long engaged my love
Your fond embrace I now exchange
For better friends above

I'm a long time travelling here below
I'm a long time travelling away from home
 I'm a long time travelling here below
To lay this body down...

Problematic's Rules of Living part 3

 It's been a long time coming, but I'd like to present you the third installment of my Rules of Living. You can find the first installment here, and the second part here.

Rule 36: Be not ashamed of tripping over flat surfaces.
Corollary to Rule 36: Be ye less ashamed of tripping over stairs.
Rule 35: Never argue with the driver.
Rule 34: The rain is made for dancing in.
Rule 33: Everyone deserves to be heard.
Rule 32:  Pain is merely an electro-chemical impulse.
Corollary to Rule 32: Pain is a figment of the imagination.
Rule 31: Even a nobody is somebody to someone.
Corollary to Rule 31: Be somebody to many.
Rule 30: Know your enemy as yourself.
Rule 29: True friends stab from the front
Rule 28: Seek first to understand before you are understood
Rule 27: Faithful are the wounds of a friend.
Rule 26: The Truth stands up to questioning.
Corollary to Rule 26: Question everything.

I got a comment from DFA on my last post, "Myself."  It is a long comment. And as such, it deserves a response all to itself. :) Well, maybe I'm making up that bit about deserving recognition. But in all candidness, if you post a long and well thought-out comment, I'll take the time to respond to it in depth. So let's get started, shall we?

At least you can take your own criticism. I think that would bother me more than other people's criticism.

It does bother me more than other people's criticism. When other people criticize me, I only have to sit through whatever they have to say. When I criticize me, I have to live with it. It's all in my head, and ideas are the most insidious things to stamp out. Like Inception, you know?

Why do you suppose you feel a compulsion to know who you are?

I look at my friends, and they seem so sure in who they are. Granted, they're probably just as confused on the subject as me, but they seem so self-assured. I don't have that sort of confidence. I've taken all the personality tests - there's even one displayed on the sidebar of this blog - but just because I know the "what" doesn't mean I have the foggiest clue as to the "why." And I hate uncertainty. So I guess my compulsion comes from a desire to be certain about what would seem the simplest fact of life: who I am.

Or is it because you have hypothesized who others are and are observing them to determine, if they are indeed as hypothetically determined? Is this a hypothesis or empirical data?
Well, I have hypotheses about all my friends. While sitting in the corner, I watch people. And in the course of that watching, I start to form ideas about them. I try to figure out why they're doing things which don't make sense to me. The thing is, it's all kind of subconscious. I don't start out by thinking "I'm going to figure out what makes X tick." I don't even have conscious theories, until I try to explain them to people. Then, suddenly, everything I've observed coalesces into a hypothesis - which wasn't there until someone asks me to explain "X."

What are these "social graces" you speak of?
The set of skills necessary to generally get along with people. Commonly known as being friendly with strangers. I'm an introvert. Now, that doesn't justify my extreme awkwardness in groups I don't know, but it does explain part of it. I feel very awkward carrying on conversations with people I don't know very well. Some people have the charisma necessary to make themselves accepted in any group of people. I'm not one of them.

Is the point of life to know who people are?
No, but life is helped out by knowing people. Think of it as oil for the rest of the machinery of life.

I always envy people that can analyze themselves and others, I have no patience for it. But, I am interested in your thoughts on the subject. This way I can think about it, without performing a long boring analysis of people. That is really boring. It is so much more fun to discuss and do stuff with people than to profile and analyze them.

I definitely agree. Like I said, I don't do it on purpose or by design. If someone's on my radar, I just kind of ... collect information on them, I guess. Long analyses of people are really boring, I agree. That's why I don't generally talk with people about my observations, because they start thinking I actually stalk my friends. I don't. I just pick things up about them over extended periods of time. If I were trying to watch people, I'd be a creeper of the first order.

B

Myself

I had an interesting creative writing assignment this week. I had to describe myself from different points of view, including my own and my enemy's. Because I have nothing better to post today, I'll let you read them for yourselves.

People say that the hardest thing to do is to know oneself. Well, I’m here to prove that to you. I don’t quite know who I am. The labels people try to stick on me are laughable. I’m a “perky Goth;” I’m a “capable and mature young woman;” I’m “emo;” “homeschooled;” “Christian;” “insufferable.” It’s reassuring to know other people are secure in my identity. Personally, I wish they’d agree on something. It’s hard to find myself when I’m both a drama-queen and immensely practical. All these artificial labels confuse me. Who am I? I’m Problematic: female; age seventeen. Insert your adjective here.

The lifespan of a teenager is supposedly spent trying to find that teenager’s identity. I suppose there’s some truth in that - I just haven’t found my identity yet. Who am I? I’m a truth seeker. I search to find ultimate reality. I search to find myself, and I long to discover others. I’m a philosopher: I love wisdom.  There’s more to it, though. I’m sarcastic: I cope with pain by laughing at it. GK Chesterton is one of my favorite authors and he once stated “Always be comic in a tragedy. What the deuce else can you do?” I heartily agree. Pain is best dealt with when treated lightly.

All this could be condensed into some simple facts. I’m a teenager, driven by hormones, searching for myself. We’ll see how well I find what I’m looking for.

~*~

I dislike Problematic. She’s insufferable, a nuisance. She’s a mélange of arrogance, insecurity, and 

prudishness. How can I explain it?

Ah, an example. Say, for instance, she goes to a party full of strangers. While the party has a good time, Problematic sits in the corner, smiling occasionally and passing judgment on the lesser mortals. They’re enjoying themselves too much. This one is a flirt, that one is an exhibitionist. The one in the center of the room is perverted. You don’t want to know what sort of pedantic thoughts flit through her head if she sees a couple go off by their selves. Granted, she never acts on these musings, but you cannot deny their existence.  

What makes this stiff formality even worse is her reaction to its effects. Instead of feeling satisfaction from knowing that no one likes her, Problematic instead grows morose and wonders at her continued state of unpopularity. It is within her power to change her reputation, but her attempts fail nonetheless. When she does loosen up and enjoy herself, she becomes loud and obnoxious. She’ll glance nervously about the room while laughing raucously, looking for a sign of disapproval in her companions’ faces. What would happen when she finds discomfort is not what you’d think. Rather than returning to her silent state, Problematic instead grows louder and more intolerable. 

Believe me when I say Problematic is an annoying twit without an ounce of social graces. I have to live with her every day, and her inability to do anything right wears on me. If you confront her on your new information, she’ll deny it. But your comments will just increase her insecurity. My job here is done.

~*~

There you have it. Myself from my own perspective and my enemy's. Bet that's more of a look at Problematic's psyche than you were really looking for today.

Faking My Own Suicide

This week's Music Monday is by Relient K. I like them. Enough said. Moving on ... I like Faking My Own Suicide, by Relient K, because I don't like love songs.They're usually pretty sappy and just not the type of music I enjoy listening to. Obviously, there are some exceptions. And this happens to be one. It has an interesting take on the theme of unrequited love - and some of the puns that are employed are awful, in the best way possible.

Ladies, and Gents,
Faking My Own Suicide

So I've made up my mind
I will pretend
To leave this world behind
And in the end
You'll know I've lied
To get your attention
I'm faking my own suicide

I'm faking my own suicide
Because I know you love me
You just haven't realized
I'm faking my own suicide
They'll hold a double funeral
Because a part of you will die
Along with me

I wish you thought that I was dead
So rather than me
You'd be depressed instead
And before arriving at my grave
You'd come to the conclusion
You'd loved me all your days
But it's too late
Too late for you to say

Because I'm faking my own suicide
Because I know you love me
You just haven't realized
I'm faking my own suicide
They'll hold a double funeral
Because a part of you will die
Along with me

I'll write you a letter that you'll keep
Reminding you your love for me
Is more than six feet deep
You say aloud that you
Would've been my wife
And right about that time
Is when I come back to life
And let you know
I'd let you know (whooaa)

That all along I was faking my own suicide
Because I know you loved me
You just never realized
I was faking my own suicide
I'll walk in that room,
See your eyes open so wide
Open so wide
Because you know
Because you know
You will never leave my sight (you will never leave my sight)
Until the day that I die for the first time (until I die for the first time)
And we'll laugh, yeah we'll laugh
And we will cry
So overjoyed with our love
That's so alive
Our love is so alive

Friends

To be quite honest, the concept of friends scares me. Why? Because of the level of implicit trust comes to fruition in their company. But not just any friends - mates. The type who really know who one is.

I read someone somewhere (don't ask me for credentials, I couldn't provide them) that "friends are the people who know who you really are and still choose to be seen in public with you."  I don't know about you, but I'm a pretty disgusting piece of humanity inside my little facade. I get angry, petty, peevish, out of sort, ticked off, jealous, or just plain grumpy for some pretty stupid reasons. My mates, unfortunately, have been subjected to that behavior despite my best efforts to limit their exposure. And it scares me that I have to trust them.

Think about it. My friends have seen me at my worst. I'm not indulging in hyperbole when I say that. They've seen some pretty unsavory stuff. They've seen me at the bottom. And they still choose to be seen with me in public. I have no choice but to trust them because the cat is out of the bag. It's not a secret I can keep because the ball is already in their court. It's a level of implicit trust that I cannot alter. The only thing I can do is to worry about it.

Take right now, for instance. I'm ... concerned, to say the least. I've told three people about my peculiar malady in the past month, and am not sure I wanted to in the first place. The first example, I had no choice. Once again, it came out without meaning to. And the second time, it was a reciprocal piece of trust. So while they make me uncomfortable, it's nothing worth staying up over. However, today was something different. There was a split second where I could have recovered, saved myself and kept my secret. And yet, it still came out.

I feel like an idiot. I feel like an exhibitionist. And worst of all, I feel horrible about it. This last instance was not someone who needed the information. If anything, it may only add to his problems. The conversation wasn't naturally turning in the way I forced it.

I'm mad at myself. I made a promise not to talk with anyone about anything, and here I am breaking my word for a reason yet obscured to me. I told aa friend who I enjoy being friends with. If I knew why it came out in the first place, I wouldn't feel so bad.

But as it is, I'm no better than any other attention seeking silly teen-aged girl sharing secrets for a friend's attention. And until I can fix my mistake in person, I have to sit on the fence, trusting my friends against my will.

B