“He Deserves to be Cocky”

I was scouring my Facebook newsfeed to come upon something that made me think. One Facebook acquaintance observed that he didn’t recall LeBron James ever being really cocky. His mind was blown by a video of LeBron James asking the camera, “Can you find my kid?” which then cuts to a shot of his MVP trophy. LeBron then picks up the trophy saying, “There you are, don’t you ever run away from me again,” kissing the trophy.

Quite honestly, I find the video more humorous than cocky. It’s not even trash talk; LeBron’s just having fun with his award, which might end up collecting dust otherwise. However, many people say that this is cocky. In LeBron’s defense, a lot of people say he deserves to be cocky. I just want to analyze this for a second.

It would make sense if “proud” was used in this context because quite frankly, LeBron James has every right to be proud of his recent accomplishment of earning two MVP awards back-to-back. However, “cocky” is an interesting word. Saying that LeBron “deserves to be cocky” is saying that he can afford to be overconfident. Overconfidence in a sport that’s inarguably all about the mental game and finesse is a weakness. To me it seems like people are saying he can deserve to be in a vulnerable mindset.

I’ve done some homework on LeBron (because I don’t know an extensive amount about B-ball). Apparently there was a phase in which he changed his mindset as a result of the media’s negative portrayal of him and he thus played differently and suffered in his performance. It is thus reasonable to assume that if he allows his fans’ saying that “he deserves to be cocky” get to his head, his mindset will change into a weaker form again.

Again, LeBron being proud? Sure, let him be proud, he deserves it. LeBron being cocky? As long as he backs it up I suppose. Otherwise he’s going to fall hard.

 

When You Are the (Romantically) Pursued

So yesterday, I was being hit on by a girl who joined my choir class during second semester. We never really talked in person, but she was quite straightforward on Facebook, saying she kinda liked me and stuff. I found her interesting to talk with, but I started dying with laughter when she said that I was “sexy as hell,” “charming,” and “cool.” I just found it quite surprising. I mean, sure I’m attractive, but I’d never imagine that I’d warrant this kind of pursuit.

In fact, chicks are interesting creatures. Hardly ever do they pursue a guy, no matter how much they happen to like them. Usually they sit there, pining to be chased, in a hilariously romantic fashion. Now trust me, I have a lot of ladies for friends, and I know this because a lot of them tell me their romantic fancies. It’s somewhat disappointing to see people not chasing after what they want, but chasing after other people is different business. People are dynamic creatures, and change fairly readily, especially in the emotional department. Each individual also has their own interests, which they may or may not adapt based on other people’s perceptions of them.

Which brings me to how I personally feel about this. I’m flattered that a chick finds me attractive, of course. In fact, that’s usually my reaction for anybody who finds me attractive. But then of course, there are my other interests. I like another chick for one, but also, I’m currently at a crossroads where I have to decide on what I want to get out of my life in the near future right now. I’m taking another week off from wrestling just to actually figure this out. In other words, I’m not going to do much of anything until I finally decide on what I want out of my next year and how I’m going to get what I want.

Girls of course take time, the main resource that’s applied to achieving goals. I’m relatively open-minded and am quite honestly fascinated with the concept of a relationship, but… I have other things in mind too. I still have my youth and my future ahead of me. I’m seriously in no rush when it comes to that. For now I’ll maintain a position of neutrality towards this and will adapt as the cards fall.

I’ll have to acknowledge that this is difficult though, with pressure from the bros to take opportunities such as these (one of my best friends got pretty worked up over this, pretty much telling me to ask the girl out on the social networking spot) being almost constant. Oh well. My resolve to figure myself out for the future though is set and that shall be enough for me to withstand any peer pressure.

One things for certain: I won’t ever be able to figure out chicks within my lifetime.

Mistaken Identity

I’ve always felt like I was different. Glances my way never really had a vibe that made me feel safe. Silences had an unprecedented, underlying hostility that I could never understand. I’ve wondered why that was. I have some people that are close to me that don’t have those bad vibrations. I’m glad for those people. But why everyone else? Why couldn’t they have left me alone? I got to find out one day.

One of my close friends, I saw every day during school. I’d be excused during class and I walked up to his office. It was always precise and orderly, with the picture of his family facing towards him next to his computer and all of his files in neat stacks. During all of our sessions, he never told me to do anything except to talk about myself. It was nice. I’d just talk about how I was feeling that day. And then that one day.

During that one day, I felt queasy so I asked to see my friend early and I got to go. Walking out of my history class, the weakness in my stomach grew and started reaching everywhere else. My head started to hurt badly. I walked with a wobble in my legs towards my friend’s office and he had a look of surprise and asked me what was wrong. I sat down and said I felt kind’ve sick. Really, I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt myself slipping, slipping into dark-

“The hell did you say to me?”

“Wh-what?”

“I’m not to be trifled with, how dare you! I absolutely despise you and everyone else! I could really care less about what you think!”

“Calm down, let’s have a seat and talk this over. Is there something bothering you today?”

“Yeah, there is something bothering me today! It’s the fact that your desk is so clean and that picture frame is there and you’re so content right now, so eager to listen to what I have to say! Well I say, fuck that!”

A crash. Papers flew in all sorts of directions.

“We don’t have to resort to any of those actions here. I believe we can work something out.”

“Work something out? Work something out? W-w-work some-some-so-thing… s-s…”

A thump and a silence.

-ness. After I came to, I was surrounded by my family and my friend and a doctor. I was in a hospital bed. The bed was comfortable enough, but the scent of the room was unsettlingly clean. “Seems like you had a rough day yesterday, son,” the doctor said, “Do you remember anything?” I looked around and really studied the place. What in the world could have happened? “No, not at all,” I said. The doctor looked at my parents. Then back to me. A pause. He was gathering strength to drop the bombshell. “It seems like you have dissociative identity disorder, son,” the doctor said. He looked down for a second, shifted his glasses up the bridge of his pointed nose and looked up again. “What it means is that there’s another you in that head of yours, in a way.”

My mom quickly walked out and my dad followed her. “Have you been aware of this problem, son?”

“No, not at all. I’ve always wondered why people have treated me differently. Is this why?”

“It could be the case. Sometimes when people have this disorder they forget and almost become a totally different person. A lot of things about them change. In your case, your other you I guess you could say, is completely hostile towards people. This other you might not have been recognized at first because it might only show up for a few seconds at a time. This time, it showed up for at least twenty seconds.”

“So it’s getting worse? Am I going to get treatment?”

“You will get treatment… as for its effectiveness, it’s hard to say. The human mind can be a cruel place for those who dwell in it.” He stood there and I simply stared at him. He let out a sigh. “I’m really sorry, but there’s still a lot we don’t know about this. I’ll let you rest now. Let me know if you need anything.” He walked out.

I laid there in my bed. It suddenly got less comfortable and the sheets seemed to have a creeping intensity to them, like they wanted to blanket me under the hate of the world. People hated me because my other personality hated them, I realized. I began to forgive all of those glances, all of those hostile silences. It all made sense now.

“I just wish people hated me for me and not some part of me that I didn’t even know about till now,” I told myself. If I didn’t even know of it for this long, how could I possibly consider it as a part of me? Others considered it a part of me though because they could only see the vessel that contained the struggling minds. They could not understand that there was a conflict within. They only thought, “Wow, what a fake asshole.”

I noticed a window that was letting all of this light in. It was too bright, I had to close it off. People could see me, but they couldn’t understand me. They couldn’t understand that there was more to me than they could ever imagine. There was thus no point. I walked up to the window and closed the curtains shut. It was a lot darker. “Good, good luck finding me now,” I teased to no one. Only the air listened.

“Good, I like it like that,” I said. I retreated to my bed and covered myself up. The darkness that the closed curtains and the blankets brought ensured that I would be hidden and protected. No one else will have to know, no one else will have to try to understand, no one, no one no one noone noonenoonenonenoone none.

Going “Zen Mode”

My weekend’s a ritual: after the five weekdays, I’m usually pretty much done with all and undergo a mental lobotomy. I spend way too much time on the screen as a way of purging everything. Sometimes I question this habit, as I could be learning something more by breaking up the calmness of “the purge.” Today was different though. I was doing the same just a couple of hours ago, playing Batman Arkham Asylum and trying to beat my high score in this one survival challenge.

The first hour and a half or so, I might make sarcastic remarks as a result of my incredulity of certain occurrences like my combos being interrupted by a glitch or such. I never got too worked up, but I was emotionally involved nonetheless. I wanted to move up a little bit more in the leaderboard, after having gone up to 207th place fairly recently. But in the last fifteen minutes, I let go. I didn’t care anymore and just let things flow without judging them at all.

I first learned the “letting things flow” concept from going to a couple of gentle yoga classes, but I never actually applied it outside of the yoga room. After having done this, I actually ended up getting my best score of the day and was enjoying it way more after I withdrew any judgments of programming stupidity I might’ve encountered. I wasn’t even able to be slightly ticked off anymore at that point. I just laughed at the unfairness that might  occur as I might try to punch some thug in the face, but then some glitch causes me to pull the punch.

I still didn’t beat my previous high score, but that was hardly the point. This mental state was exciting to be in, this “Zen Mode.” I could only imagine if I applied it to so many other things. If I could be lighter with my judgments, I can maintain relaxation and enjoy what I do more. Tomorrow’s a new week. It should be a good time to start practicing.

End of the School Year Feels

I’ve been wanting to write another short story, but this emotional shitstorm that the end of this school year is bringing is making it unnecessarily difficult. Some of the people leaving for college are my closest friends… it will be weird and strangely empty without them. However, one girl’s speech did make me realize something: I will now have the opportunity to get to know more people. In her speech, she said that she was glad in retrospect that the seniors of her generation were leaving for that exact reason.

I actually really enjoy the idea of this upside. Meeting new people will prevent my stagnation. It’s just that sometimes there’s a cost to meeting new people. Sometimes you never see the oldies ever again, even if they happened to be your BFF at one point.

And people change over time; it’s tragic to think that a future you five years from now wouldn’t be able to relate at all with a BFF five years from now after a separation.

You don’t need religion to have morals…

I agreed with this on a philosophical viewpoint beforehand, but it’s really mind-blowing for me that there’s solid scientific evidence for it.

Otrazhenie

Religion MoralsFrom Global Awakening

“Perhaps it is just me, but I’d be wary of anyone whose belief system is the only thing standing between them and repulsive behavior. Why not assume that our humanity, including the self-control needed for a livable society, is built into us? Does anyone truly believe that our ancestors lacked rules of right and wrong before they had religion? Did they never assist others in need, or complain about an unfair deal?

Human morality must be quite a bit older than religion and civilization. It may, in fact, be older than humanity itself. Other primates live in highly structured social groups in which rules and inhibitions apply and mutual aid is a daily occurrence. Acts of genuine kindness do occur in animals as they do in humans. Altruistic behavior serves a cooperative group life, which benefits the actors of such behavior, yet the behavior is fueled by…

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