I'm posting this on a Sunday because a) I've been catching up on my cousin's blog and my favoritest posts are the ones she writes monthly to her (now) three-and-a-half-year-old fraternal twins (the quotes from those kids make me nearly cry from laughter) and b) I'm pretty sure I get most of my blog hits on the weekdays when people are trying to avoid the drudgery of their cubicles.
Anyway, usually the people who would comment "Haha! Fag!" are a) too lazy to type comments and b) too hungover to be reading blogs on a Sunday.
"Jesus loves the little children,
all the little children of the world.
Red and yellow, black and white,
All are precious in His sight,
Jesus loves the little children of the world."
-C. Herbert Woolston
"Napalm sticks to little children,
all the little children of the world.
Red and yellow, black and white
glowing brightly in the night
napalm sticks to little children of the world..."
-banned US Army running cadence
I kinda LOATHE being serious publicly; though prefer it in private life.
"Laughter is the closest distance between people"-Victor Borge
When people read that quote, I don't think they really grasp the subtle significance of it.
Even though humor brings together in many ways, it still sets a barrier, regardless. There's often a defensiveness to humor, an unknown. Indeed, it's the very hallmark of humor, that it's unexpected (even if the beauty of a great joke is that it seems inevitable once it's been cracked), that causes this divide.
Paradoxically, it's the experience of shared irrationality that brings people together, even as it keeps them apart. That's why I feel that humor's a great way to get to know people initially, but you have to bridge the remaining divide with sincerity. You make people like you with humor (the unknown); you make them love you through trust (the known).
Anyway, I'm a funny son of a bitch. Perhaps not so modest, but I call a spade a spade. People like the "funny" persona I've shaped and I like playing it for them. As I said, it's a great way to bring people together, to a point. The trouble is bridging that final divide. As I also said, sincerity and trust is how you do that, but it would be the height of utter foolishness to try to bond with everyone you share a giggle with. Not everyone needs to be your confidante or closest friend. There's nothing wrong with that. There's absolutely nothing wrong with having buddies. So much the better in fact.
Still, it's a real pain in the ass when you want to bridge that divide and people just don't quite get it. It's exhausting to be divided all the time.
"I stood
Among them, but not of them; in a shroud
Of thoughts which were not their thoughts"
-Lord Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iii, Stanza 113
"What the hell are you talking about? You haven't made me laugh in 45 seconds. I'm uncomfortable. MOAR JOKES!"
-Silly, Simple-Minded People I'm hoping are not reading this because they're too hungover or gave up when they didn't see drawings or pictures of boobs
Getting out of Afghanistan, bearing these last few days, has me in a contemplative mood. I am exhausted.
I tend to have two speeds, zero and "Holy Jesus! The Wheels Are About to Come Off!" (aka "I'm giving her all she's got, Captain!"). I can maintain that much longer than most, but once the wheels do come off, it's time to pull over and cool down. For anyone close to my age, think "Excitebike" (NES).
Anyway, when I'm like this, it brings out that very divide between myself and some people, because they haven't even remotely considered that perhaps I'm more than the funny persona. That kind of saddens me because what this really indicates is that most people aren't more than their shell so they don't consider others are either (which makes sad sense, I suppose).
I'm a whole host of things and capable of a wide spectrum of perspectives. I typically wear the funny persona because I like to make people happy and entertain them, but, even then, mostly it's to entertain myself. When you mix it up with the hoi-polloi, if you can't make yourself laugh, you'll go super-duper crazy/miserable.
Anyway, for some people reading this, I'll be explicit: No, there's nothing wrong with me. Yes, I'm exhausted. It happens. This is just a part of who I am that you don't usually see. If you insist on trying to force me into my funny mode when I don't feel like it or go on and on about something being off, you'll just further the divide. Most of the time, I'm amenable, but sometimes, just sometimes, I won't dance for you.
I got like this with my friends Chris and Liz when we were in the Army. We were buddies to that point, but it was pretty exhausting being "on" for them all the time. We'd been to a dinner party the night before and it was a great group of people. They were entertaining. I was having a good time. I didn't have to be on. I could enjoy myself. Chris and Liz, though, they thought something was wrong. "What's wrong?...Tell that story!...Oh, Ajax, do the bagpipes!" I frowned and demurred. There hadn't been anything wrong but they were making it wrong.
The next day we were going somewhere in my car (God, I miss that Audi). They brought it back up again.
"What's wrong? You're grumpy! Something's definitely bothering you."
I sorta snapped.
"I'm not your goddam monkey! I have, you know, moods! I like to be entertained sometimes! Jesus-@#$!ing-Christ!"
Chris raised his eyebrows and leaned back, surprised at my vehemence.
Liz, unaware of how close she was to sheer and utter rage, said, "Dance, Monkey!"
Despite the maniacal urge to do so at that very moment, I didn't murder her and we are, and have been, friends. Chris as well. I probably should have handled it better, but once they figured out I was more and not MOAR! we've been on solid footing.
Anyway, what my friends know, but my buddies do not, is that I'm an intensely private person, truth be told. I have my barriers that I reserve for "buddies" (humor), but they don't even realize the barriers are there. That's how it should be.
Just because I've put them there, I don't want the buddies thinking I don't like them. I do. As I said before, not everyone needs to be your confidante or closest friend. I like my buddies. There are some whom I'd like to connect more with and become friends. Not all, but some. If you're not one of those, again, I mean no ill will and there's no lack of affection, it's just that for myriad reasons, though primarily that you can't be a friend to any if you're a friend to all, it's not a good fit. If I've made that determination, I know I can keep you from even considering this issue if I distract you with "shiny!" We'll share laughs. That's not a bad thing. It's the closest distance between people, after all.
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So, all of this has actually really been a long (VERY LONG, I know) preface to what I actually want to write about, but a) if you're the kind of person who wants to, you should know all of that about me and b) people who would have given this blog post up well before this nearly 1000 word mark are the ones who wouldn't get this anyway. Verbosity as an editing/winnowing device. I'm &%$!ing brilliant.
So, even as I am perpetually sarcastic or a smart-ass or cracking jokes, there is more. There are very sincere things I believe in and/or enjoy. Actually, that's mostly who I am. That's the depth. The funny is the veneer. The depth is dull. The funny is shiny. I feel like being a bit dull.
I love kids.
As I said, my cousin's blog posts about her little kids, I positively adore, even while I know banned, horrid running chants (and have sung them with glee) which are, sadly, ironical and also, even more sadly, deadly serious at the same time. But, I love kids. Really.
Why do I love kids?
The unadulterated joy, mostly.
Yes, kids have all sorts of issues. They can be whiny and annoying. What? It's true.
But kids have a capability for joy that very few of us are able to retain. Life just beats us down too much. Too many things happen for us to keep our hearts wide open enough to really let loose with that sort of feeling. We have to protect ourselves. Shoot, that's one of the primary lessons that parents have to teach kids, how to protect themselves. "Don't talk to strangers." "Don't touch that; it's hot."
Kids are raw. They're exposed. They feel, for good and for bad, and intensely.
They're helpless. They're trusting. They're uncomplicated. They're kinda wonderful.
There's just so much potential bursting out of them.
Though I've not gotten in the neighborhood of marriage (hell, I've not gotten in the universe of marriage, let alone the galaxy, solar system, planet, country, state, county or city), I always kinda thought I'd get married by twenty-five and have kids by thirty. Having a family has always been what I've wanted most since I was capable of contemplating such things. But, like I said, I've not gotten in the neighborhood of that. I'm not going to dive into that sorta thing lightly or in an unthought-out manner simply because of desire or a timeline.
If it will happen, it will happen when it should of its own accord, not on my deadlines. In the meantime, I just sit here tapping my toes saying, "Hurry the hell up, already. I know, intensely, that I only have so much time here."
I guess people reading this will think, "Oh wow, he sounds kinda desperate about it." I am and I'm not. Do I want that? Yes, absolutely. But if I were desperate, I'd have gotten a lot closer to it than I have. I'll jump at it and go full bore for it...in the right situation. I'm not going full bore for a bad situation.
Any woman reading this who might be the least bit interested in me romantically is probably going "I like guys who think and can express themselves, but this is a bit much. Jesus. Enough already. Shut the hell up for your own sake."
She's probably also going, "Get a haircut, shave, stop wearing Hawaiian shirts, get a stable job, buy a house, get a car, be serious occasionally..." (though "she" typically freaks the hell out when I am serious-Ed.)
That those women don't quite "get it" is why I've not gotten anywhere near marriage. That they're more than likely imaginary is another reason. Whatever. My act's not for everyone.
Back to it though.
Why do I love kids?
I'm thirty-two. I'm not old. I'm not young. I'm past "boy" and "young man". I'm a "man" now. Life's crapped on me a fair bit. That happens to all of us. I'm not whining, just stating a fact. Life's also been fairly mind-bogglingly fantastic. Intentionally or not, I don't do things half-way. Still, I miss that joy, that elation, I was capable of as a child.
It's a wistful thing, really. I miss that capacity to be open and exposed. I want that more than anything. I also said I wanted a family of my own more than anything, but those two things are interwoven, because I believe I'll be able to be open and exposed with them. At least, I want to be. I'm not sure that's possible, but that's what I strive for, what I yearn for.
I'm very big into ideas, into ideals.
I love being around kids when they're giddy and everything's new and exciting and wonderful. Capturing even a hint of that feeling is why I adventure, because, really, new experiences and new worlds is what being a kid is all about. Adulthood is mostly about routine from what I see. That's fine. It is what it is. It's reality.
Fighting reality is a losing proposition every time.
Note I say that despite the fact that I'm very big into ideas and ideals. It makes me think of the most brilliant, insightful thing my father's ever said: "A cynic is a romantic who knows the world will let him down."
I'm not saying I'm Peter Pan here; I've been doing the responsible thing and progressing as I should; and I'm not saying I want to be a kid again. No, I firmly believe that the only real way to appreciate the phases of life is to know while you're going through each that it's finite and should be enjoyed while you're going through it. But I can remember the joy of childhood and want to be a part of others experiencing that joy.
So, yeah, I love kids. I love being around them.
My cousins have been popping out babies left and right for some years now. It's fascinating watching my new cousins develop. I haven't been around for all of them because I've been off being me. Even beyond that, I didn't really get to be around their parents that much. On dad's side, I'm the baby of the family by quite a bit (except for one cousin, the rest of the first cousins are at least seven years older). The kids have actually been a great way for me to bond with my first cousins.
When I got out of the army, I was three months removed from getting out of Iraq. I was, as I am now, more than a bit exhausted. I retreated, as often as I could, to my spiritual mecca of Saluda, NC, where my family's had a place, in one form or another, for around one hundred fifty years. Saluda has a yearly festival that I adore, Coon Dog Day. It's my favorite holiday. Not Christmas. Not Halloween. Not even St. Patrick's Day (Mom's side is Irish, so that's saying something). No, it's Coon Dog Day.
I get to go up to my favorite place and my cousins are up there; it's an informal family reunion. Since the grandparents are dead and buried, we don't see each other as often as we did, and as I said, because I was comparatively so much younger back then, I couldn't really connect.
In 2005, I ambled over to my uncle's place and there were my little cousins I'd never met, bouncing off trees and chasing each other all around and generally driving my curmudgeon of an uncle absolutely insane (though he actually only plays at being cranky; I watch him follow the kids room to room and start loudly complaining about all the noise just to exasperate his daughters; to the imaginary woman contemplating me, you have that to look forward to; we Carpenters go to strange, sometimes antagonistic lengths to amuse ourselves).
Two of the first cousins, Augusta and Llewellyn, managed to have daughters the same year and then sons two years later. So each had a five year old daughter and a three year old son. I went in the house and spoke to my cousins. They told me about how they'd had the kids praying for their cousin, "Soldier Ajax." Then we went outside and they hollered for the rugrats. A whirlwind of blond hair and dirty, panting, beaming faces materialized.
They'd not met me before. I still carried myself somewhat like a soldier.
The former baby of the family was meeting the new babies of the family.
Within moments I was a jungle-gym for absolutely, maniacally ecstatic children.
Yelps that didn't mean anything,
"Cousin Ajax, look here!",
tugs at my shirt,
fists tugging at my hair.
Bear hugging all four at once, lifting them off the ground as they squealed.
Chasing them around the yard.
Complete trust.
Complete acceptance.
Complete joy.
I love kids.
"2He called a little child and had him stand among them. 3Then he said to them, “I can guarantee this truth: Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. 4Whoever becomes like this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. 5And whoever welcomes a child like this in my name welcomes me."
