On the Nature of Love and Personal Boundaries

I actually have a lot of boundaries, yet most people don't even seem to be aware of the vast majority of the personal lines that really shouldn't be crossed to begin with. But then... I guess I really do understand.

For example, Facebook has finally, after God knows just how long, added a "care" reaction to the list of "like" options. Me, I have firm boundaries, but I tend to either like something or someone or... I just plain don't.

So in most cases, rather than simply clicking "like," I more often go for the "love" option. I mean, something doesn't have to be the best or most professional photo ever taken for me to see the genuine effort, or sheer sentiment that went into the compulsion to publish certain content via social media.

Likewise, someone doesn't have to be the best looking individual on the planet either for me to "love" their picture. I mean... there are a lot of ways to love people, and the world at large, you know. So it's often wise not to read too awful much into just about anything at all.

However, clicking "love" on someone's publicly shared content unfortunately creeps some folks way the heck out. Especially some women and girls, I've noticed. And, even worse, if you're a guy who clicks "love" on a male friend's new profile picture, said fellow heterosexual, manly dude may just... you know, get the wrong idea.

Ahem.

So, okay, okay! Don't flatter yourself too much. Also, by the very same token, don't assume that everyone out in cyberspace is a pervy little "wanker" who has nothing better to do than fall in Facebook "love" with little old you. Or me... or whomever. I mean... you did share that content publicly, did you not?

And yes, I know that negative attention is often better than no attention at all, but... come on! Everyone has responsibilities, everyone has "agency." Absolutely everyone. Even folks who seem to have absolutely no clue whatsoever that what they're really doing is... well, typical attention-seeking. But hey! We are talking about "social" media, are we not?

Ahem.

So, really, honestly, if I click "love" on a social media post it almost always means that I think the content deserves more than a simple "like." But that doesn't mean that I'm a stalker, or that I think that anyone on Facebook is the second coming of Jesus Christ himself either. I'm just a really sincere guy in most cases. And... that's about all there really is to it, I'm afraid.

On the Nature of Postmodernist Devolution

Unfortunately, these days, most people can't even be bothered to read a paragraph or two at the top of a typical social media post, let alone write a good old fashioned letter (or even an email, much less a few coherently worded sentences in a simple chat session) to a friend or relative.

In Medieval times, Christian churches, and later, cathedrals, had only just begun to be filled with art and various forms of  religious iconography (such as stained glass depictions of Biblical stories and statuary to venerate Christ and other important figures) in a concerted effort to educate the largely illiterate masses who could not yet even read the scriptures.

In those days, in fact, churches and monasteries were not just centers of worship, but tended to be the only places, outside of the royal court, or the homes of the most affluent, where the laity (the common man) could actually go to learn to read and write. Of course, we've come quite a long way since then. At least we like to think so anyway.

That's why, in fact, all the best 19th century literature, for just one example, tends to be rather lengthy, even wordy, and full of verbiage that, nowadays, in the world of quickly and easily digestible pop-culture entertainment, tends to make many a "modern" man's head spin by sheer comparison.

I fear therefore, that as a species, the human race may actually be digressing when all most folks can be bothered with is the mere seconds it takes to scroll past pretty pictures on Facebook; a veritable cornucopia of visually oriented stimulation that usually incorporates only a single sentence or two, and thus conveys but the simplest of ideas, often expressed in a mere brief quote at the very best.

And worse yet still, quite often, even these colorful "memes" tend to have absolutely no punctuation, or may even be full of grammar and spelling errors, to boot. So much for human "social" progress, eh?

Just Because

Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. Just because you should, doesn't mean you will. Just because you will, doesn't mean you're ever even gonna get the chance.

On the Nature of Anger, or... Live and Let Dog (or Cat, or Mouse) Live

Yes, I do get angry sometimes. I think everyone does. Even some of the sweetest, most innocent folks I've personally ever been privileged to know. Such as a few handicapped people I've been lucky enough to be acquainted with over the years, whom, I have observed, that even they too, from time to time, have their little moments of bitter frustration and deep, abiding sorrow and disappointment.

And besides, in most cases, with a little help, and a whole lot of patience, most people tend to "get over it," as they say, as we all should, of course. After all, Life is hard for a whole lot of people. Everyone suffers sometimes. Everybody cries, you know - whether they ever let anyone else see that side of them or not. And some of us, I am deeply saddened to have to acknowledge, definitely seem to have it a whole lot worse than others.

So it's not the periodic strong emotions all us, hopefully humble, human beings tend to feel, or the times of great stress that may cause some folks to be unable to properly manage the more negative side of their nature, but rather, it is how we deal with our inner angst that often makes all the difference in the world.

Therefore, it's where and how we channel that raw energy, that comes as part and parcel to the often bitter slings and arrows of Life, that matters most of all. It's how we use it to either help or hurt others. Especially those closest to us, whom are often the very last people who deserve to be left holding the proverbial bag.

So goes the old adage, that as I often recall, reads something like this:
"The boss takes it out on the man. The man takes it out on his wife. His wife takes it out on the kids. The kids take it out on the dog. The dog takes it out on the cat. The cat takes it out on the mouse. And the mouse? Well, no one quite knows for sure." 🐭

"Don't Hate Me Because I'm Beautiful"

Sometimes, they don't dislike you because of something you supposedly, just maybe, may or may not have even "done wrong" to begin with. Sometimes someone or other in your life just can't stand the sight of you because you may actually possess something that they themselves do not, or something (such as a talent or some other all too obvious virtue - even if it's only innocence) that they might not have in quite such glaring abundance.

Maybe you're just too pretty. Maybe you're just too smart. Maybe you're none of the above. Maybe you're just plain average, but the fault actually lies within them, and not you. Therefore, maybe they themselves feel an overwhelming deficit, a deep chasm in the pit of their very soul, and the only way they can feel better about the sorry state of their own wretched existence is to put others down, just to feel even just a little bit bigger, or so-called "better" than everyone else.

Sometimes it's just because of someone or other in their own past who despised them for no particularly good reason - other than pure, instinctual, bad old fashioned jealousy, that is. You know, envy. Spite. And they are already angry on the inside because maybe... like a lot of us, "Life just doesn't seem fair." Sometimes. Sometimes for healthy folks, but not so much for the mentally ill, the perpetually self-tortured.

So... that right there is actually all the excuse in the world that some sad people might need to hate your stinking guts - and then treat you accordingly. But then... I guess that's just some people for ya. Hmm. 🤨

On the Nature of Perspective

Sometimes, we do not know ourselves as well as those who view us from a different set of eyes, just as those who similarly fail to see themselves from their own frail, limited, human perspective.

Drivin' Like the Demon That Drives Your Dreams

I don't drive very much here in South Korea, but there's this thing that one encounters every now and then in the US, which, in most states, tends to be very much a "car culture."

Here's the scenario; you'll be sitting at the stoplight in your nice, all paid for, affordable and perfectly adequate economy car (that you love, because it was inexpensive, but comfortable, and easy to care for, ultra-easy to park, and eventually replace, etc), but all the country boys in their big pickup trucks, or whatever they may be driving... well, they gotta drag race. Or... something.

Having had that extremely strong, intuitive Sixth Sense, even before I can remember, I can always feel it in the driver of the car in the next lane - even without the distinct sound of the rev of their engine, even without looking over in their general direction. Because we, us drivers, usually both know when that light is just about to change to green.

And that's why I always just sit there for a minute (or rather a few seconds, depending on whether there is another driver waiting in the lane behind me) when the light does change, and just watch the drag-racing jerk drive off in a huge hurry. Chasing...? I don't even know exactly. The devil himself, maybe?

Besides, if you really must drive the biggest (or just the fanciest) vehicle you can barely afford, whether it's actually even practical or not, just to perhaps show off... what exactly? I mean, if you really need that self esteem boost, take it, A**hole! Take it and go your merry little way.

After all, it's just a stoplight. It ain't the Grand Prix. Nor do we really need to drop our pants to compare the family jewels, for crying out loud! And besides, when it's all over and done with, you'll still be going your separate way in Life. And so will I.

But most importantly of all, I didn't even care one lick about where you were going in the first place. I didn't even really care how you might be getting there, OR for that matter, what you might be driving in the process.

So... drive on, dude... buddy... man... pal... mate, or whatever. I honestly wish you peace. May you even get to where you're going as safe, sound, and trouble free as the good Lord will allow. Just please, don't waste my damn time (or gasoline) while you're at it.