::5.26.2004::
Space For Rant
(a.k.a. The True Meaning Of ‘Hero’)
(a.k.a I’m drink and I’m bitching again)
I’ve spent the past week soul searching as to where and who I am, and what it is that I want out of this life. The following is something that does not necessarily need to be said, but I am going to say it anyways, as many people seem to take my going on about my having fallen for Tiff as one of my all too numerous flights of fancy.
We’ve all been to the movies and we’ve all seen dozens upon dozens of movie trailers. One of the key points of movie trailers is to set the mood of a film, to entice the viewer to exchange his hard earned cash for a couple of hours of extremely fleeting entertainment, but what one never notices is the emotion that comes from these few moments of sensory bliss. We watch the trailer for some new suspense movie and are captivated by the question of “wait, now I want to know what happens next.” We watch the horror movie preview and think, “That’s going to scare the pants off me.” We see the sample for an upcoming comedy and say “that’s gonna be hilarious,” but what is really happening with all of this is that subconsciously we compare each story to our own lives, connecting with individual characters, discovering the people we aspire to be.
Then the spoiler for the Epic pop’s up, a hero rises from the ashes, takes a beating, and then annihilates his foe. We feel empowered at first; having just witness the ultimate in human triumph, but that soon fades just as the screen does. We begin to think about our own lives, and we begin to wonder, “why can’t I be the hero for once, why can’t I be the one to kick some ass and take some names?” and some where deep inside our hope dies a little, and although those around you may not notice and no physical change has occurred, one cannot deny that it has not happened.
It is within this simple human moment that the word ‘hero’ loses its value. We begin to only see a hero as one who goes out, defeats evil, and saves the day just in the knick of time. We stop thinking about what it truly takes to be a hero, sacrifice. Take this story into example:
George is sitting in the field of the final game in the World Series. George’s dream has always been to catch the winning home run ball of his team and with the way that the game is going; George is on the verge of soiling himself with joy. It’s the bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, and the star player of George’s team is up to bat. After getting 2 balls and 2 outs the batter finally nails it out of the park and right toward George. Time stands still and all background sound drowns away as George sees his opportunity within his grasp, his every wish mere feet from his attainment. The ball lands into George’s glove as if its destiny, the crowd goes into a deafening roar. George (happier than a pig in shit) is leaving the park cherishing the game wining ball when he spots little Timmy. Timmy is upset because he didn’t get the star players autograph, and this is the players last season.
Now George is faced with a quandary, does he give up the one thing that he has to show for his accomplishment, or does he value his conclusion that baseball has taught him; there is a winner and a loser in every situation?
George takes the hit; he sacrifices the one thing that he wanted most. Timmy overjoyed to have the received the game winning ball, tries to put what he feels into words, yet it only comes out as “thank you.”
Now I ask who the hero is; the guy who goes out and beats his nemesis, or George?
See to be a hero isn’t always to be the one who vanquishes evil or kills the bad guy, and situations of that magnitude are few and far between.
A true hero is (unfortunately) forgotten as quickly as he/she appears. A true hero is common and everyday. A true hero is one who knows when to walk away from his or her most sought after dream.
I suppose now I am faced with the hardest part, to walk away from the one thing that I desire most.
"I ask not for a lighter burden, I ask for broader shoulders."
- Jewish proverb
>>
Alan spun round and round on 5/26/2004 10:44:00 PM
(0) comments
::5.18.2004::
Oop's...
So apparently, there is this thing they call a power supply in your computer, and if you try and pull too much power through it, it goes boom. Now I've got to get a new one, apparently when overclocking a Intel P4 2.8 Ghz processor with 1 Gig of RAM, 480 watts of power just isn't enough. This is the new temp layout, until I get my server back up and running.
>>
Alan spun round and round on 5/18/2004 09:26:00 AM
(7) comments
::5.09.2004::
Two Roads Diverged in a Yellow Wood...
"There's a time when a man needs to fight, and a time when he needs to accept that his destiny is lost, that the ship has sailed, and that only a fool would continue..."
- Edward Bloom,
Big Fish
I hate the middle. I've never considered my self to take a side, never opted to stand specifically for one philosophy or another, never chose to fight or continue. Tonight was prom night and I'm a fucking wreck. Two and a half years, for two and a half years I've done nothing but pine over Lightfeather. The funniest part is that I remember dating all these other people, but none of them specifically stick out in my mind. I've spent two and a half years trying to find the happiness that I once had with her. Then I start thinking about it tonight. I began to recall the two times that I went to prom, freshman and sophomore year. I began to recall those I knew all dressed up, oozing with elegance, beauty and charm. Then my mind, like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, hurls itself through time and space instantly arriving at the present. I begin to imagine her; I begin to imagine her dress flowing about her like a satiny stream. It's a royal blue, with ice blue sequins embellishing its fluidic hems. The dress brings out her eyes, and accentuates the correlation of the curves in her face and body. I begin to imagine her hair, worn up and styled in some fashion to match the sequins adorning the dress; I always thought that when it was down it hid her face. I see her eyes, piercing, yet soothing; leaving one with the impression that they'd been run down by a sheet of satin. I see love in those eyes, I see the beauty of her being and of the way she looks in that dress, though like the beauty of a rose or snow flake. That love retreats just as the season in which these things exist does; leaving no evidence of their being, only the lingering memory of the ecstasy and splendor they once held.
I know that I've lost. The fight came and went as I just stood there watching. Yet there is a pale glimmer, like that of a single star in the night's sky. A whispering voice on the wind telling me the fight isn't over, that I haven' missed it, it will soon rise again, that a hero will be called for and whether or not one rises to the occasion is in my meager hands.
"...The truth is, I've always been a fool."
- Edward Bloom,
Big Fish
>>
Alan spun round and round on 5/09/2004 12:33:00 AM
(0) comments
::5.04.2004::
Go Hang Salami I’m A Lasagna Hog!!!
Life, love it, hate it, it still is life. You personally think it sucks or that it’s great, but others will find your life interesting to the point of being highly annoying to you and having to tell the same story over and over. Take for instance the title of this post. Though you may not realize it, that simple (yet extremely strange) statement reads the same backwards as it does forewords. What’s the point of my telling you this? Read on, shiny diamond, read on.
*** Disclaimer ***
*** Since the will of many out weighs the will of a few, I’m going to amend the policy of no longer talking about my love life, those who don’t want to hear about it can kiss my tanned (I went to the pool… ::taunts:: nanny-nanny-boo-boo :-p) Asian ass. ***
Saturday April 17 –
Walking Tiff out to her car she confesses to me her attraction to Michael one of the kitchen guys at ‘The Burb’. Michael is a pretty cool kid… yeah KID, he’s only 16!!! Tiff is 18 and going to West Georgia this fall, I mean am I the only person who sees something odd in that?
Saturday April 24 –
Having been sick for the past week and having suffered the better part of said week with a very bad migraine, I take a very large hit of Dayquil and head to ‘The Burb’ praying that I survive my shift. We got slammed there were orders coming in left and right, and this did not help my mood much. I got to sit and watch Tiff flirt with Michael, and normally it doesn’t bother me, I mean most of my female friends flirt with me all the time, so I’ve grown accustomed to it. This time however, something welled up in the back of my mind and for some reason it got to me, and that’s what pissed me off, is that it got to me (I hope that makes sense). Josh (one of the kitchen heads, and one of my best buds) asked me what was wrong, and I told him that I didn’t want to talk about it (All the kitchen guys work in a very small area, so it would have been very difficult to talk to Josh about it and keep Michael from over hearing). As the night continued, Tiff asked me what was wrong (she’s always had this sixth sense about how I feel, and can tell exactly what and when something is wrong with me) to which I only responded “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Josh let Michael go early, and once the evening slowed down he again asked me what was wrong.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I replied.
“Well then, I’m going to take a stab at what’s bugging you. Since you normally tell me everything, I’m going to guess that it has something to do with Michael.”
“Maybe.”
“Okay,” Josh continued. “I’m also going to guess that this has something to do with Tiffany, as you haven’t been very sociable to her this evening.”
“Damnit, am I that easy to read?”
“Only when you’re sick. Medication tends to dull not only illness, but one’s entire persona.”
“Thank you master, have I earned a new belt yet?” I think my dry wit is what makes me such a great guy…
“Heh, seriously dude, just talk to her about it. It probably won’t make you feel any better, but you’ll at least get your head out of your ass and make a decent pizza.”
“Yes sensei.”
“Jackass.”
I don’t think he could have forced his point on me any more when he let me off about twenty seconds before he had Shawn let Tiffany off… (I’m gonna kill that bastard)
I was almost to my car when I heard Tiff, “Alan wait, what’s wrong?”
Looking back on that evening now, I begin to question what impulse made me heed the advice of a 23 year old man who makes pizza for a living.
I spilled the beans, told the whole story. I let it all go. I told her how I feel about her, how when she’s around everything just seems right, I told her how she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I told her about how the last time we watched movies I just sat there with her in my arms and watched her falling asleep. I told her how just seeing her face, hearing her voice, holding her close to me humbled me to my very soul.
However, even the most beautiful of sunsets, carries an obsidian shade of twilight. I told her how looking back on it now, I wish that we’d never dated. I told her that maybe if we hadn’t dated we wouldn’t have to deal with these things, and that maybe our friendship would be a friendship and not my continual fools hope for a second chance. I told her how I was probably going to go home and do as I’d done for god knows how long; get drunk and pass out (I was supposed to go out with some friends that night instead of staying home and getting drunk, but by the time our conversation ended they’d left without me). This she didn’t take lightly, but I wouldn’t expect her to. In fact I half expected some self righteous bought in which she’d go on about how I had no right to dump all of my sorrow on her, or how I should know better than to drown my sorrows night after night, or at the very least for her to slap me in the face and go home.
Quite the contrary, she stood there shocked and awed. “You’re going to give me a big head talking like that.”
“I wasn’t ‘talking’, I was telling you how I feel.”
She told me how she felt; how she wouldn’t trade the time we spent dating for anything. She told me how I’m one of the greatest guy’s she knows. She asked me not to go home and get drunk, that she wouldn’t pursue anything with Michael if I promised not to drown that which cannot sink. She tried to reassure me that I’d find someone else who would make me as happy as I was with her, if not happier; that I’ve got school to look forward to this fall how I’m probably going to meet so many people that it’s not even funny (while I don’t doubt her, she acted as though I’ve never spent a decent amount of time on a college campus… ahhh… U of L, how I miss the smell of cheap beer and the sounds of two all night keggers going on next door to each other… man that was a great week… but I digress).
Being the stupid totter that I am, I was too far gone to compromise, too pissed to be reasonable and too tired for any of what she’d said to settle in. I looked at the clock, it was one thirty, and we’d been sitting and talking for 2 hours. I told her that I was tired and had to go. I got in my car and went home. I think she followed me home to make sure that I didn’t go do something stupid. When I got through the door I pulled out the bottle of wine that I’d bought earlier and poured myself a glass. It’s funny I didn’t even drink any of it before I passed out.
When I awoke the next morning, it all came rushing at me. You know how sometimes when you do something stupid, like maybe you’ll be out playing catch with one of your friends and you’ll get distracted, turn around and there is a ball about a foot away flying right at your face. You see it coming and it’s almost like a slow-mo replay. You know it’s going to hurt, you have every chance to move, but you stare at it like a deer in the head lights. This is very similar to the morning after my talk with Tiffany. It had all come full circle; it began to read the same backwards as forwards, and it left me as confused as she had when she asked me to make out.
I haven’t talked to her about any of this, and I don’t plan too (unless she brings it up). I’ve realized who in the hell am I to question her judgment and opinion. I mean how many people my age can say that they’ve found that one person that makes all the difference in the world, even if only in your eyes? I should be happy that I’m so lucky as to know that feeling, the elation that comes along with it. I may not have won the girl, but I know she’s out there, I know who she is and what she is like; and that is better than knowing nothing.
>>
Alan spun round and round on 5/04/2004 02:44:00 PM
(0) comments
