Tag Archives: answer

Dumb Questions

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Bubble Bobble
This post is brought to you by Bubble Bobble for the Nintendo Entertainment System (NES). When programmers run out of ideas (and inside jokes) for levels, they can always use that itself for inspiration.

Remember when growing up you were told that there were no dumb questions?

At some point we stop asking. We stop because to admit that you don’t already know makes you look ignorant and stupid. Even if we don’t care what other people think, we stop because the people we ask treat us like we’re dumb.

I propose again, as we learned when we were still in Kindergarten, there are no dumb questions. If you are really trying to learn, you have to find out somehow. We can read and read and read (Wikipedia), but books and online articles are incapable of human thinking. We sometimes need someone to give us a point of view, rearrange our thinking, and make things make sense. Maybe we just need to hear that we are on the right track. Or perhaps we need to hear that we’re not even asking the right questions. And yes, *everyone* misses the obvious at some point in their life. That includes you.

I have always thought, since I thought to wonder about it, that life is a big learning experience. Why else would we be born knowing nothing but basic instinct with an infinite capability to learn? Why if that was not what we were meant to do?

I wonder if when you ask someone and they give you a snarky response, it’s due to their own issues with their own quest for knowledge. “Well, no one would tell me, so why should I hep you?”. People often take their own insecurities out on others. So, if they have answers and don’t want to share, it’s because no one would help them. Maybe they like having the knowledge and power and it feels better to keep it to themselves. If they don’t have answers, they don’t want to admit it and show their own short comings. So they will answer with a huff, and a puff, and a ‘I don’t know, but hell if I’m going to tell you that!”

So, we’re conditioned to not ask. In being conditioned not to ask, we don’t find answers. Not asking these dumb questions breeds ignorance.

If someone is brave enough to ask me, I hope that I am always brave enough to answer honestly and openly. I hope I will always admit when I don’t know and give information even when I don’t feel like giving up my secrets or taking the time to explain. I’ve always tried to be there and do this for my younger siblings. As the world is fast teaching them about dumb questions, I counter that with an offer: “You can always ask me.”

What Do You Do?

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Armed Dragon Fantasy Villgust
This post’s screen shot is from the NES game Armed Dragon Fantasy Villgust. This guy is reading the first chapter of Adventuring for Dummies.

What you call yourself? What do you say when someone asks what you do for a living?

Many people say: a student. A student of what? That sends many into a flurry. If you’re a student of everything, aren’t we all? And aren’t you forever a student of your field(s)? You don’t wear a cap and gown and quit learning…

Many people cite what they do to make money. However, what you currently do for money may have nothing to do with it. Working at Dunkin Donuts is a means to an end, not a living. Have the confidence to associate yourself with your longterm goals and dreams. Little sister would say she’s a musician. And she is. She was when she worked at KFC and she still is serving donuts and coffee. Her ability at the oboe doesn’t diminish as she uses the cash register.

Money has nothing to do with it. Was Ray Charles not a musician until he got his first paid gig, or signed his first record deal?

It has everything to do with passion.

What would you still be doing even if no one were paying you to do it? There may lie your answer.

Just Being – Stillness & Motion

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Lufia 2: Swell of humanity
This post’s screen shot is from Lufia 2 (SNES). I’m sure there was an elegantly put metaphor in Japanese, but there is no such luck here.

Do you ever get a sense that nothing you ever do is the result of purely what you want to do for yourself? Even if you think you’re doing something for yourself, it is always weighed down by its relationship to other people. The things we do are controlled by a set of standards that are not exclusively our own. Ideas of ‘normalcy’ and ‘supposed to’ are so second nature, we don’t even consider them as we fall into line.

Part of the normalcy we need to feel is useful. The idea of being useful is pretty ambiguous, but it seems like most of our existence is based on it. It’s a constant pressure and motivator. I once wrote that I should ‘be content with being the being who strives’, but what about being content with just plain being oneself and nothing else?

I don’t think I’ll ever be content to be still. Stillness becomes guilt at not being busy, which is not stillness at all. Being busy doesn’t even mean actually doing anything truly important, it means being in a constant state of doing or even active procrastination. Relevance is secondary to making sure you’re active. Being in motion, even if you’re not getting any important done, becomes more important and valuable that being still. But, it isn’t.

For one’s own health and well being- and to have the ability to accomplish really important things- one must have periods of stillness, self, and relaxation. The mind needs a break to reflect and remember what is important and real in the largest scope possible. I’m not talking about some “in 5 years where do you see yourself’ question, but reflecting upon the question of why existing itself is important and necessary. I’ve never had a complete answer to that and probably never will, but each time I think I further understand a piece of that why, life becomes better, easier, and stronger in its vibrancy.

Being. Actually being, with a real identity and purpose, is far more important than being busy.

It can be very hard to force oneself to be still.

Doubly Singular

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Soul Blazer crab walking

This post’s image is brought to you by the Enix game Soul Blazer for the SNES. On one hand, this may be an introduction to a tutorial. On the other hand, it might be a pickup line.

I enjoy being single. The world is, in general, a much simpler and happy place when you’re dealing with a single point of view. It’s a bit harder to argue with yourself. I’m not much in the habit of betraying myself. And when I screw up, no one is there to tell me so or rub it in except me. I’m hard enough on myself, so it’s a bit of a relief to not have double the guilt.

I’ve seen enough people cringe when I go on like that. I know approximately what they’re thinking. “Wow. That’s a pretty jaded viewpoint. What about all the good stuff?”

I used to have good answers to this sort of cynicism. I used terms like “…when I find my soul mate…” as opposed to, “…if something close to this even exists…”. I used to believe that love could be enough to make any relationship work if you worked at it hard enough.

But, really, it doesn’t work that way. People suck. A person will expect you to work at the relationship while simultaneously looking over their shoulder for something better, making you feel like you’re doing something wrong, and not feeling even remotely obligated to meet you half way on anything.

The two ways of dealing with someone when they try to make you meet them half way on anything:

1. Argue.

2. Agree without even listening to what you’re agreeing to.

I prefer people that will argue over those who will ‘yup’ you. “Yes, honey” makes me want to impale peeps and marshmallow bunnies on knives while pretending they’re real. You at least can be sure the argumentative ones are being honest about what they think and feel with you. They trust you enough to expose their own opinions and feelings. Unfortunately, they also usually think their thoughts are automatically more qualified than anyone else’s. It’s not that they think they’re always right, it’s that you’re always at least more wrong than they are (if you are performing the great sacrilege of having a different point of view).

To these people, being wrong is a significant event that determines one’s mental capacity. Proving someone wrong and making them feel stupid for it go hand in hand. Nothing says “I love you.” more than, “You moron, you got that movie quote wrong.”

Even though I like being single, I will admit that finding that ideal other person would also be wonderful. It’s something that is always at least in the back of every single person’s mind: what is your ideal like? What are you going to look for differently next time (as if we don’t chose slight variations on the same type of people over and over)?

I’m thinking that next time I will try to find someone that has the capacity to both be very honest *and* very caring. I want to find someone that will feel like they can say anything to me, but would like that person to have the ability to say, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” and “I don’t agree with you, but you make a valid point.” and mean it.

I could go on to say that the idea person would be a dichotomy between a lot of things. I am someone who has always been (somehow) extremely left brained and right brained at the same time. I also have the capacity to be both over logical and over emotional. If this doesn’t make any sense, get to know me better. If this sounds frightening, it can be, so you might want to poke me with a stick through my cage a few times before getting too close.

But what is with this useless exercise? It’s the ultimate self centered thought, to pretend there is going to be someone else out there who you will find in your lifetime that matches your wants and needs more perfectly than you even understand those wants and needs.

On top of that, I’m pretending I’ll actually chose things about the person the next time my mind and body betray me and do the love suicide march once again.

I have not planned it when it’s happened. I’ll not even be looking.

So, as I continue to actively not look for someone else, I also try not to go down this silly road wrought with self-indulgent romanticism. The pessimistic blather may not be much better, but it at least supports my independence. It’s better than being a desperate romantic any day.

Bodies – Chapter 2: Relating & Unrelated

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This is the second installment of a novel I’m writing called Bodies. You can read chapter one here. Feel free to comment. This is a work in progress and any insights could be helpful.

– – – – –

Silvie had begun to read and stopped twice now. The first time her voice faded off as she stared at the girl and wondered. The second time she just lost interest and desire to recite the written words she was not sure the girl could hear.

“You love torturing yourself, don’t you?” Silvie jumped and spun around. Phil was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed around a clipboard.

“No,” Silvie snapped, “I’m just curious.”

Phil put the clipboard down on an end table and sat in the chair next to Silvie’s as if her anger was an invitation, “Do you expect her to wake up and give you answers? She’ll likely never come out of it, and even if she did, she’s likely moderately to severely brain damaged. Who knows if she’ll be able communicate or remember anything.”

“Still,” Silvie held her ground, “I’m allowed to visit her and wonder.”

“Yeah, of course, I never said you weren’t!”

“Really?” sarcasm crept into Silvie’s voice, “I talked to Bonnie.”

“I was just trying to protect you, Silvie,” Phil’s smile was as soft as his voice, “I’ve come to care about you quite a bit.”

“Well, next time you care about me so much that you want to control me, save yourself the effort,” Silvie blurted bitterly. She grabbed her book and shoved it into messenger bag, getting up to leave.

“Hey!” Phil grabbed her arm, and Silvie pulled her arm away forcefully, “What the hell’s gotten into you?”

Silvie rolled her eyes, and any guilt she felt about snapping was rushed away by righteous anger, “Feminism,” she explained as she stormed out the door.

Silvie supposed Phil would get over his ‘caring’ and stop speaking to her, which made her anger drop down into sadness as the elevator made its way to the ground floor.

“Good job, Silvie. You managed to loose a friend to defend your relationship with a girl in a coma.”

“He’s an asshole,” she explained to no one in particular as the elevator jerked and came to a halt, “Macho. Definatly not my type.”

Her actions properly rationalized, she made her way into the crisp late afternoon and down the steps wondering if Andorra’s was open.

* * *

“Man, I just don’t get women,” Phil was off work and sitting in a local pub called Bernies with his friend Matt. Phil knew the man would have nothing more sage than that to say, but it felt good telling someone his frustrations regardless.

“How can you say that?” Phil cracked open a peanut, “You’re married.”

“I thought that was the first clue that I don’t have any good advice,” Matt chuckled and leaned back in his barstool, precariously balancing with his foot on the bar.

“Don’t worry, my man, you’re off the hook. I don’t need advice, just to blow off some steam.”

“We could always go to the strip joint,” grinned Matt devilishly. Phil snorted, “Yeah, well, I wasn’t being serious anyways. Jenny would divorce me for less.”

“How would she even know?” Phil’s mouth was full of peanuts. He washed them down with his beer.

“That is one of the mysteries of the universe, Phil. She just would.”

“Huh,” Phil’s eyes wandered to the flat screen TV across the room.

“Look,” said Matt rubbing his eyes, “If you like her, just keep at it. Women are moody. Maybe she’s on the rag.”

“How philosophical of you,” Phil’s eyes never left the screen. It was a commercial for something that made people dance and he was trying to guess what it was before the commercial was over.

“Har-dee-har. No, we leave the tough thinking to you, Phil. That’s why your mom named you that. Phil the philosophical,” Matt laughed at his own joke.

“Yeah? Well, you know what your mom calls me?”

“Phht. I gotta take a leak,” Matt pulled himself out of his leaning bar-stool position by grabbing the bar and slammed down the rest of his beer before heading to the men’s room.

Phil in truth felt a bit better, but he also didn’t want to think about it anymore. Everything he did or said to Silvie was always wrong. He tried to be sensitive and caring and it somehow came off as manipulative.

Maybe I’m trying to hard with the touchy-feely approach. Maybe I should just try the classics: flowers, chocolate, dinner… If Silvie wants to make herself miserable, let her do it and get over it herself.

It’s not my problem.