Oh, yeah, and by the way...

I know I only have a few viewers, and I don't even know if they're regular viewers. Regardless, if you're reading my blog, please follow if you're interested or leave a comment if you feel like entertaining me. I'm more than open to disagreements, different opinions, criticism, all of the above... Just please, no trolling. Thanks for reading!

Sincerely,

The Ellipsis

Childhood, A Condition

                I’ve recently heard a fair amount of people saying that they hate children. Although I don’t really have a contention with this, it kind of made me think about my relationship with children, etc. I guess I don’t really like children all that much either, but I definitely don’t hate them. I mean, I know that they’re still developing, and I respect and understand that, but this doesn’t change that they are annoying, immature, and sometimes infuriating. I don’t know if this goes for all children, but the ones I know are all major assholes by universal standards. And again, I don’t begrudge them this, it’s really not their fault, but again, I still don’t like hanging out with them. The fact that they aren’t really to blame for being egotistical, narcissistic, annoying little bitch-faces doesn’t change the fact that they are all of those things. I mean, that doesn’t mean that circumstances don’t call for you to treat them right, but if anyone else acts like a child, you tend to dislike them for it. Would you choose someone who acts like a child as a friend? Of course you wouldn’t, because you don’t like that in a person! The only difference here is that if a grown person were to act like a child, you wouldn’t have sympathy for them, or patience either; because they don’t particularly have to act like children. So the fact of the matter is that I like what I like, and where it comes from has only to do with how I react to something, not how much I care for it. For this reason, I don’t like children very much (most of the time) but I’m still kind and patient towards them.

                Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I harbor any kind of resentment for them, or that I blame them in any way. If a kid runs up and kicks my leg, that doesn’t mean he’ll be the next Jack the Ripper, or if he is obnoxiously mean to his friends he’s not going to become Hitler. All it means is that it’s a child, and that he hasn’t really matured enough to have a refined personality. In him is a mold, a potential to be a more mature person in the future, but he just hasn’t filled this mold yet. So as children, people aren’t really themselves, which is why I see it as more of a condition than a vice.

                The thing about children is that they’re so blissfully ignorant of the world that they don’t know just how stupid they are. I mean, it’s actually kind of pitiful to see how oblivious they can be, going about their lives being obnoxious, rude, or otherwise foolish and not even realizing it! They’ll realize it one day, sure, but in the mean time they sure do make idiots out of themselves. I remember when I was a kid. I was always self-assured, hypocritical, hyperactive… I actually think I liked my childhood, but today it isn’t a fond memory of mine. Though at the time I would do stupid things and just laugh, and think I was funny, I realize now that some of them were genuinely stupid. Those memories of doing or saying stupid crap, like trying to come onto my mother, are now freaking humiliating to me. It hurts to even remember, I can hardly stand thinking about what a little prick I was.

                First off, there were my imaginary games. I would always play pretend with myself when I was younger, enacting epic battles in my room, and going between different settings, characters, etc. The thing is that I would always follow the same imaginary story for a while, pretending that I was imagining a whole imaginary book, even though I often just imagined the same thing over and over again. And it would always be based off of whatever I liked at the time, too, like Star Wars, or Lord of the Rings, or a videogame, or anything. I would literally imagine the adventures of a protagonist who was invariably perfect in every way. He was a genius, as strong as a bull, devilishly handsome, never did or said anything wrong, and everyone liked him… I would seriously have a single antagonist who disliked him, and make him inferior in every way. The story would consist of arbitrary battles or scenarios involving whatever my whims commanded. There’d be a battle on the moon if I felt like it, there would be a mellow-dramatic love scene in which an almost perfect female protagonist fell for the perfect male protagonist (if I was in the mood for that), or there would be a god damn song and dance scene if I heard a song I liked! There are some who may have found this cute, but when this was still going on in like 5^th grade, you know something wasn’t quite normal. I personally wish I could go back in time and give me a hard kick in my vacant little head.

                The second part of my childhood that I dislike is how oblivious I have always been. I mean, even since kindergarten I have been spacing out in class, and missing important details. I never had any idea what was going on, I would ask questions the teacher had just explained, and I would fail to know common knowledge all the time. (Like how many are in a dozen, for example.) This was mostly harmless for most of my early school years, though I can still think of plenty of embarrassing moments from my 3^rd grade school year and below. But sometimes it got very harmful. Here’s an example, I had no idea what the deal with 9/11 really was when it happened. Sure, I got the basic concept, that a guy flew a plane into a building and he was evil and all of that. I guess the gravity of it, though, never really hit me until long after it happened. I just never took it all that seriously, and I’m sure you can imagine how that might cause problems. In 5^th grade, we were doing group posters for something or another, I don’t remember what, and my group’s poster had a sky scraper on it. For some reason, at the time, I thought it’d be just hilarious to draw a plane flying into it… Well, an incredibly offended homeroom, a stunned teacher, and a visit to the counselor’s office later; I finally realized that 9/11 must have been some kind of big deal, and that I should probably have watched my mouth better. Yeah, it still hurts to remember.

                I guess the last thing I’ll mention about my childhood that I don’t like is just the type of person I was. It’s hard to fully describe just how messed up I was, but I guess the best way to describe it is melodramatic, and over-emotional. I can think of a few examples off the top of my head. Whenever I had anyone in my class I didn’t like, (they were usually popular) I would think of them as the embodiment of evil, and take it upon myself to get into a row with them whenever I could, often unknowingly making an idiot out of myself. Also, I would never let things go if someone did something I didn’t like, even if it wasn’t really that mean, I’d still get upset. Like for example, one time a kid laughed at me when someone else told me that the eagle he was studying was bigger than the one I was, and I was very indignant about it. So, to get revenge, when something just slightly bad happened to him, I laughed (a forced laugh, trying to really make it sound cruel) and he said “That’s not funny,” a true statement. Being the little moron I was, though, I responded “Oh yeah, well neither was my eagle!” And then anyone who was looking on at the time was reminded, yet again, that I was retarded.

                Another aspect of my personality is how melodramatic I would always get about my damn friend. At the time, I only really had one friend, and I was so incredibly freaking possessive over him, it’s not even funny. Wherever he would go, I would go, and whenever he did something that didn’t involve me, I would get offended. In fact, I would get so offended that I would have a “break up” with him, and get absolutely furious, exchange shouted insults, and then later exchange apologies with him. On multiple occasions I would feel like someone else was “stealing” him from me and I would hate that person with every fiber of my being, making him my arch nemesis. To be fair, I later came to be best friends with one of them, and another turned out to really be a genuine asshole who no one really likes to-date, but that doesn’t excuse my overreaction. I would cry, I would yell, I would think it was the end of the world. I would go as far as to say that all of the drama I went through in middle and high school doesn’t even compare to what I went through in those years of elementary. Well, maybe the drama was worse, but my reaction to that was complete Zen compared to how much I blew up back in my earlier years. It is the memory of this part of my life that just makes me want to punch my past self, and I honestly feel embarrassed to have ever been that way.

                The final part of my personality that I so dislike, and even disliked at the time, was my hyper disposition and my sense of humor. I only group these into one because between the two of them, I made an image of myself that I came to loathe over time. Basically, I was the type of person who was always making jokes and doing crazy, hyper things. Two problems existed, first being that my jokes sucked. A lot. The second was that I never knew when to stop. In time, I learned to be funny or sense when I wasn’t being funny, or not care, but this used to make me hate myself. I was such a spazz that it got to the point where at times it looked like I was retarded, because I would make a joke, then take it way too far, go crazy with it, and just look like an idiot, the joke having stopped being funny long ago. I eventually learned to calm this down a little, but it took years of conscious effort on my part, and it used to be the thing that I hated about myself the very most.

                So how do I look at this past of mine? Well, I don’t like it at all. When asked what I miss most about my childhood, I will invariably say nothing, and that I’m glad it’s over. Childhood, to me, is like a condition… At least mine felt that way. It’s as if ignorance and all of my other flaws were simply symptoms to a potent disease, which I have since recovered from. I know that it is these experiences that somehow shaped me to be who I am, but still, I wish I did not have the memory of my childhood following me around. To be honest, I find it haunting to know that I used to be how it was. It not only angers, but also shames me to know that the oblivious, over-reactive, and often rude child in my memories… Was actually me. The fact that that the person I am now is the same as that one of so many years ago, still awes and disgusts me. Even among my actions of a single year ago, I find plenty that do not sit well with me in retrospect, and the same will be the case in a year. I can only hope that once I’m through with puberty, I won’t have to deal with my mind so quickly shifting about, but I think I can say that the person I am now is more or less the person that I am for good. At least I don’t expect to change as much between now and when I’m completely mature, as I have over the last half of a decade. And so, I am who I am. I see as clearly now as I ever have, and I will understand even more tomorrow. Childhood is, indeed, like a disease, and I am just one of many of those who are on their way to a miraculous full recovery, from the most devastating condition known to man.

Sincerely,

The Ellipsis

Love

Note: In this article, any use of the word “love” refers to true love, meaning not shallow infatuation, or anything of the sort. I mean the kind of deep, unconditional love that two people feel towards each other at all times… Like you hear about in the fairy tales.

                I’m agnostic. Have we all established that? Okay, good. Well agnosticism isn’t just a world view, a sort of in-between set of religious beliefs, it’s also a mindset. You can be agnostic about anything, really. You can be agnostic about whether your socks are clean: “They don’t look bad from over here, but they’re too far away to smell, and I guess they could be dirty.” You can be agnostic about people: “Oh sure, he looks dodgy, but who am I to judge? Maybe he’s a perfectly nice guy.” Or you can be agnostic about whether or not concepts are real: “Well, I suppose it’s possible that [god, absolute truth, morality, happiness, love, etc.] really exists, but I guess I don’t really know… I’m not sure if I’ve experienced it, or if I would know if I did.” See, it doesn’t seem so damn unreasonable, does it? In fact, I’ll bet plenty of theists would be able to relate to my second example. Ha! See, you’re agnostic! Bet you didn’t see that one coming, now go drown yourself in holy water, or drown altar boys in your semen, or whatever it is you do when you're feeling under the weather.

                Well I have an agnostic mindset myself, (also known as a realistic, critical, pragmatic, or reasonable mindset) and it has always served me well. Sure, it’s forced me to believe what  I don’t want to, but truth is always healthier than delusion… Or else you might as well give yourself an IV drip with PCP in it, and spend the rest of your life hallucinating. But I digress. Believe me when I say that it does kill me to look at true love in a very objective way. If you could argue that I still harbor any faith inside of me, (see article on faith) then it would have to be faith in love. True love is something I want to believe in, it’s something that I can hardly imagine the world without. For those of you who believe in love with all of your bloody hearts, go drink some warm milk or something, before I break the fragile little things.

                Now the idea of love, and I mean true love, is just another one of those half-philosophical, half psychological, and half realistic conundrums, which is also a paradox because it has 3 halves, and is somehow only 1 thing. I know that most of you out there, being human beings (and less inclined towards bitterness) will probably be thinking, “Why Ellipsis, of course love exists! Isn’t that obvious, how could it not?” Well it does seem pretty self-evident that love exists, but the operative word there is “seem.” I mean, when you really think about it, what actual evidence do you have that love exists? What you have is media reference, fairytale legend, and pretty much everyone around you seeming to believe in it, albeit perhaps in a different way. Maybe you feel like you've experienced it, but you probably can't really be positive that it was love, and not just infatuation or something similar. Is this starting to sound familiar? Of course it does, it’s those are the same damn reasons that you believe in god!

                Now one could logically suppose that, if someone they know tells them that he found love, then clearly it must exist. By that, I mean that it would be logical to assume if the person in question wasn’t probably an over-sentimental dipshit with as much sense of reality as a schizophrenic on an acid-dosed IV drip. And I’m inclined towards distrust of said hypothetical person for the same reason I don’t believe someone who claims to have met god, it’s just not believable enough to take someone’s word on. What with the varying definitions of the word love, the fact that everyone wants to believe that they've found love, and with emotions and hormones being so able to cloud our judgment and common sense; it’s actually more than likely for someone to believe they have found true love when in reality they didn’t.

                If any of you out there think that you have found love, and actually have, (though I’m honestly not sure you’d know it) then I am sincerely happy for you. Personally, I can think of few worthier achievements in life, and you have my envy. But the thing is that if you tell me the good news, I hope you will understand why I can’t believe you. What with all the confusion and doubt over whether someone else has found love, (mentioned above) the only way to really know that it exists is to find it for yourself. I mean, I could have just described a demographic that doesn’t exist. Maybe all love is flawed, and two people can never truly be happy together forever. If every single relationship harbored some form of conscious or subconscious discontent, then I guess I wouldn’t necessarily know it, meaning that it could very possibly be the case. If you don't understand quite what I mean here, read my article on Absolute Truth. I posted it relatively early on for a reason.

                For all of you who read this, it might be perfectly easy to justify belief in love, at least to yourself. You might see examples of it (or at least what looks like it) all the time and think “Why of course it’s real!” I mean, that doesn’t make you right, but you’re still lucky to have that kind of optimism. Because if love doesn’t exist, then all we can hope for is to find the closest thing, and I get the vague idea that believing in it would probably help you get close to it… But I guess I don’t know, that's kind of off-topic anyway. Anyway, my point is that I, personally, have no reason to believe in love. My parents have been divorced since I was 3, and now hate each other. They both remarried to people that they seem to sometimes hate as much or more than they do each other. I have thought I was in love, when I was young and naïve, and then I realized that I wasn’t really in love, but I was only fooled by my own head into thinking that I was... Oh, the list goes on, but you get the idea. I've always wanted to believe in true love, especially when I was younger, but from the examples I'm given, love doesn't look too believable when looked at critically... Its existence at least isn't a given, like it may be for you.

 Outside of my life, though, the image of love only gets worse. Can you, dear reader, even count all of the stories you’ve heard about husband and wife that don’t end happily? Think of all the fights, the divorce, the violence, the unhappiness, the resentment… Sure, people can still have an okay relationship, at the end of the day, even if it does have its flaws… But that’s just not what we’re looking for. We don’t want wives who we think ruin all of our fun, and who we have to fear the judgment of. Ladies, you don’t want husbands who are often oblivious to your feelings, or too lazy to do anything to make you happy. Sure, these can all be lived with, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re flaws… Is this true love? Is love just having to live with a partner who you know damn well isn’t what you hoped for; mostly because the person is at least okay, and won't leave you? Is this true love, living with the knowledge that your one and only isn’t exactly the “perfect” one for you, and that there are some things about him/her that you will never be content with, and just have to bear? There’s something to be said for loving others for their flaws, but I honestly don’t think that this is the case with most of the examples we see when married couples complain about each other. That seems more like loving someone despite their flaws...

Just to clarify the above paragraph, I really do know what it means to love someone for their flaws. I know that you’ll never meet the perfect man or woman, because human beings don’t naturally tend to function entirely for the sake of impressing the other sex. I guess what I'm talking about is someone whose flaws genuinely don't bother you. I'm talking about loving someone completely, without a shred of doubt over remorse over choosing them, and with the knowledge that there isn't a single thing about them (at least their personality) that you would change.This is, perhaps, the most idealistic idea of true love, if it really exists. To be honest, it seems to me like a infatuation with someone, the kind that you get in when you go through puberty, the kind that makes all week-long highschool couples think they're in love. Maybe that's what love is, just a state of perpetual infatuation with someone... I don't really know.

If you look up the definition of love, you’ll more or less get: “Love: noun, a strong feeling of affection or compassion towards another human being.” This definition is, in my opinion, about as much of an understatement as referring to the Holocaust as "mildly detrimental." To me, love (and I mean true love) is so much deeper than that definition. Love is a feeling that you begin to feel for someone only after a long time, and that doesn't just fade away… It’s the feeling that every single aspect of them is just the way you would have it, and that there is no other person in the world who you would be happier with. Love is an absolute feeling, it’s the knowledge that you will never tire of someone, that they can never be replaced in your heart, and that they are perhaps the most special and important thing in the world to you. I know, it sounds really cheesy, coming from a cynic, but I’m not saying it isn’t a fairy tale… It might or might not be. My point is that true love is incompatible with doubt, and resentment. I mean, maybe in realistic terms, love is never perfect. Maybe in the real world, two people will never see each other, and think that there is nothing there to change, or at least not permanently. If this is the case, then okay, fine, I guess that real love isn't like the fairytale "true love." I guess what I’m debating here isn’t whether love exists, but whether it exists in the form that we all hope that it does.

Maybe I’m really talking about perfection. Can perfection exist in a world as flawed as ours? Is it really possible to meet a person, get to know them, and realize that they are absolutely perfect for you? You know, it doesn’t even need to be in absolute terms. There are almost 7 billion of us, you’ll never find the single person in the world who fits you best. But can you ever really find someone who you’ll never have any regrets about whatsoever? Someone that you’ll literally be able to spend the rest of your life with, and always be happy about it? That, to me, is finding true love. I guess that anything near that general description is considered “finding love,” by today's standards, but finding someone "close enough" isn't really finding what is generally considered true love, is it? Maybe true love doesn't exist, and maybe it's impossible or astronomically improbable to find. Maybe only certain people are able to find love. Maybe love isn’t even real in any form, and we really just have to find the happiest way to live and accept that anything better is a fantasy. Who knows, maybe somewhere out there is the one and only person for me… Maybe I’ll find love some day, and maybe you will too. Maybe we’ll just think we did, and be happy enough that way that it doesn’t make a difference. But I don't know, I'm only an ellipsis... Good luck to all of you out there, though.

Sincerely,

The Ellipsis