jayhat

Archive for the ‘What people are’ Category

A Lesson on Grammar

In English, Language, nature, What people are on December 18, 2009 at 4:22 am

In English, an obviative form of a verb is used to differentiate two otherwise ambiguous third-person pronouns.  For instance, the sentence “Melanie borrowed Linda’s car” can be expressed as “She borrowed her car,” or even more ambiguous, “Melanie likes what Linda likes” can be expressed as “She likes what she likes.”  So, an obviative form would likely be a marker—some sort of affix—used to differentiate “she” from “her” or “she” from “she.”

Of course, in English we don’t have an obviative form.  We allow for the ambiguity, relying on the speaker—or writer—to avoid using pronouns in ambiguous situations.  So, for the cost of a single, extra rule of grammar, we pay by having a limitation imposed on the language.

The reason I bring this up—other than to show that English has its limitations—is to point out that we have words in English that exist only as a means to express things we don’t do.

“Obviative” is an English word that describes something we don’t do in English.

I use this to illustrate the fact that, while there are plenty of things that we do that don’t make sense, there, too, are plenty of things we don’t do that do make sense.  But we still don’t do them.

In both cases, change comes with rationality.  Or reality.

Or a gentle prod from someone who cares.

Seven Days

In Dreams, Imagination, nature, What people are on December 11, 2009 at 9:07 pm

On the first day of July, a baby was born, beautiful blue eyes blinking before he’d even breached.  The only sound he ever made was a faint grunt, as if coming to a conclusion after ruling out a number of less likely possibilities.

On the second day of July, a toddler taught himself to walk by mimicking the sky’s clouds that galloped passed his nursery window.  His bounding gait taught others how to dance and proved to birds that it was possible to fly.

On the third day of July, a frumpish little boy walked along a black sand beach along the north fork of the Isle of Man, staring over the water at the water color, rainbow sunset.  The gentle breeze whispered sweetly a song of praise, a psalm, an anecdote, advice on how to grow up, how to be a father an uncle and a brother.  The frumpish little boy grinned and spit into the sea.

On the fourth day of July, an awkward teen fumbled through his clothes, looking for a lock or a clasp or a hinge or a knot.  Although he had never seen it with his own eyes, he knew it was there, which is why he stumbled, stammered, paused, or blushed.

On the fifth day of July, a young adult made his bed.  He folded the corners and tucked the sheets, he fluffed the pillows and replaced the comforter.  He stood back, looking upon that which had created and realized that, in reality, he had not actually made anything; rather, he had simply reorganized what had already been.

On the sixth day of July, a man sat on his couch, reflective of his life thus far.  He remembered the good times, yes, but he also considered all of the wasted hours and how fast it all seemed.  He wondered if there was something that he was missing or if this was really it.

On the seventh day of July, an octogenarian stubbed his toe, yelled a curse, and was struck down, dead by the god he swore he never believed in.

I attempt to prove the existence of reality

In Dreams, English, Imagination, Language, nature, What people are on October 8, 2009 at 5:03 pm

I think, therefore I am.

I am, therefore I do.

I do, therefore I act.

I act, therefore things happen.

Things happen, therefore things change.

Things change, therefore there exists something outside myself.

There exists something outside myself, therefore I am not alone.

Shades of Gray

In non-fantastical, Sports, What people are on September 21, 2009 at 10:46 pm

My friend,

This is not a world of extremes. Surely, extremes do, in fact, exist, but they are rare. Really rare. As rare as a perfect circle or a certain snowflake. As rare as you are exactly–exactly–the same.

Extremes are defined by what they aren’t. They aren’t what everything else is. In shades, black is extreme because it is [not white]. White is extreme because it is [not black].

Every other shade is some variation of gray because it has at least a little black and a little white.

In the shade spectrum, there are a single two extremes for infinite grays.

This, extrapolated, is how life is. Given something–anything–there are two extremes that provide counterexamples rest of the mass of humanity.

Think of this in sports terms, if you will–if we can agree that there exists someone, at sometime, who was the best at a given sport or event or position–then he or she or it is one extreme–or [not bad]. The other extreme, then, is the individual who was the worst–or [not good].

–And just as surely as someone–at his or her or its peak–was the best, someone must have been the worst–

Everyone else, since they weren’t [not bad] or [not good] are a shade of gray, some combination of bad and good, no matter how close he or she or it is to a given extreme.

–Or, the second best putter ever–ever–to touch a golf club is/was/will be slightly more bad than the best putter in the history of humanity, who is, by our definition [not bad]–

The reason I bring this up is because the ratio of anything to infinity is zero. Despite the fact that the world speaks in extremes–in labels and genre and hyperbole and shortcut–extremes are statistically insignificant. We speak of conservative and liberal, of smart and stupid, qualified and unqualified. We speak of amateurs and experts, of best and worst, quickest, tallest, and shortest. Of exceptional. Of insubstantial. Of gay and straight.

If, statistically, no one is any one thing, then everyone must be composites of everything. Yet, no one ever acknowledges this fact.

Check it.

In Getting Close, Post Script, What people are on September 10, 2009 at 11:51 am

Check it.  Uncomfort: the feeling when I don’t know what/why/how I’m doing.  Comfort: the feeling that I know what/why/how I’m doing.

The problem is this–Comfort: familiarity.  Familiarity: easy.  Easy: boredom.

Boredom leads to transition, which leads to not knowing what/why/how I’m doing: uncomfort.

Uncomfort and boredom.  To do away with one is to invariably lead to the other.

****

Check it.  A girl is good enough for me only when I decide she’s too good for me.  If I decide she’s too good for me–and I get her regardless–she’s decided that I’m good enough for her, which means she’s not too good for me, which means she’s not good enough for me.

How fucked up is that?

On Regret:

In novelish, What people are on September 7, 2009 at 5:46 pm

It does no good to regret things, if you like who you are.

To regret something is to wish change upon yourself. If you learn from your mistakes, anything you would regret has only made you stronger. If nothing else, you learned never to do that something ever again—which you would have no way of knowing if it had never happened.

To wish something undone is to open yourself up to repeating the mistakes of your past.

And the next time, you might not get anything out of it.

Sinners in the eyes of others

In What people are on August 16, 2009 at 11:48 pm

People are generally good.

Really.

They are.

They mean well, and–so long as it doesn’t indebt them somehow–they will do well.

However, things get complicated, because quantifying debt is a fickle little game. In fact, in order to further this discussion, we need to point out a seeming paradox to the previous graph’s assertion: A simple, undeniable fact is that every single action an individual takes is done under the pretense that it will improve his or her life.

Starting broadly, if someone steals, he or she does so out of some desire–be it material or chemical, monetary or adrenal. Less broad: If someone talks, he or she feels that something unsaid should be spoken, and–further–that he or she should be the one to speak it. One would not speak if the consequences of not doing so outweigh the weight of the words.

–Consider here how the fifth amendment abolishes a catch-22 wherein someone would have to either face the consequences of speaking or face the consequences of remaining silent–

Even less broad: Partaking in religion is a means to comfort, whether it be sating insatiable questions eschewing tough decision.

Even charity. People do charity because of how it makes them feel and/or because of the expectation of reciprocity, not because altruism is instinctual.

It’s not.

Which brings me full circle: People are generally good and generally do good things because, in general, these little favors make people feel better about themselves–in fact raising their overall value.

Every action is an end to a more valuable self in some way, and no single action by any single individual is any more self-righteous or selfish than you, yourself, are capable of–and, quite likely, often surpass.

Evil does not exist. People simply want different things and, because of their environment and temperament–or perhaps more proper, predisposition–have different moral compasses.

Because of this, we need to be careful about how we judge others whose actions we don’t approve of. We, in fact, are sinners in the eyes of others, others we probably won’t agree with but who have as much right to judge us as we, them.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.