A Window to My Character

My heroes growing up were, in no particular order:

Sherlock Holmes

Robin Hood

Superman

James Bond

Leonardo Da Vinci

I recently realized that this actually offers a bit of insight to my character, personality and beingness. Because consciously or not, I've tried to be an amalgamation of these men. So now, because I know how fascinating I am, I'll break it down. 

Sherlock Holmes: Hyper-observant, above-average intelligence; thinks before he acts, superior deductive skills. But also can be arrogant about his achievements and intellect. Haunted; prone to crutches, but not excuses.  

Robin Hood: Willing to think outside the box to find solutions to problems. Also willing to face those problems, if not always head-on. Dedicated to helping others. Broad streak of romanticism. Issues with discrimination, abuse of power/authority.

Superman: Strong moral character and uncompromising code of ethics; recognizes that being more able carries with it the responsibility to channel that ability toward the common good. Generally quite selfless. Unassuming and quiet in his alter-ego. Would prefer to have others shine with him than be the brightest star, yet is perennially alone, apart -- alien.

James Bond: Suave, sharp, a ladies' man. Calm in the face of opposition or danger. Will stop at nothing to protect and serve. 

Leonardo Da Vinci: Artist extrordinare. Also: Left-handed. 

Now, I'm totally not saying I'm anywhere near the badass any of these men are/were. And I am most assuredly a much more cynical man these days. But the fact remains, I like to think I've done a pretty good job of it (even though I unfortunately seem to have retained the negative aspects of those personalities). 

But yeah, anyway: Not trying to beat my own drum all over the place; it was just something I noticed and found interesting about myself. 

The Weight

I have had a rough day. 

Here's a thought: I think men, as a rule, process emotional pain differently than girls do. See, girls, I think they "get" that shit better than men do (don't ask me why). Men know about it, sure, but it just does not compute. If you hurt, there should be some physical damage! Otherwise, where the hell does that pain come from? If nothing's physically wrong, it shouldn't stop you. 

Maybe you should break something, then. Punch a wall or something, make your knuckles bleed. Then there's real, obvious pain. You can DO something about that. 

I've have to ruthlessly suppress all such urges all. Day. Long. Not just suppress, but hide; bury. Deep.

It's sort of a joke amongst some of my friends, that I give my heart too easily, too quickly (although that's, ha ha, that's not how we describe it).  

It's true I'm inclined to like people; that I'm oft willing to extend the hand of friendship as a default. 

When it comes to love, though? Truth is, no. I mean yeah, I don't waste any fucking time with it when I meet someone I think would work. But I am very, very choosy about who I dare take chances with. 

Apparently no less retarded, but yes. Choosy. 

I almost let myself fall in love again late last year. That's what I tell myself, that it was "almost", because "almost" is easier to come back from, right? If you haven't fallen, you can catch yourself before you do, right? 

Well I dunno. Maybe that's true, and maybe it isn't. Maybe I'd gotten away from myself when I wasn't looking.

All I really know is, it really hurt to find out that the girl who dumped me just a few months ago, got married last weekend. It wasn't just some schmoe, it's a dude she'd history with, who'd buggered off because -- never mind. None of my business, none of yours. Doesn't matter.

She's moving to Texas (entirely disrelated to the marriage thing). Today was the official sendoff. And although we didn't work out as a relationship, we've still kinda got something, and it behooved me to see her off. That's just how I do.

We started off with breakfast at Denny's. I noticed the ring on her left hand right after we'd ordered, and suddenly all appetite was gone. All the pieces that had been hovering in my mind slammed into place hard enough to set my ear ringing (literally). The mysterious Vegas trip. The photo of "the rose". The Facebook update about picking up so-and-so from the airport. The truth I'd been hiding from myself (as I do, oh yes; some truths are better snuck up on, if you can) was revealed, inescapable. 

I wish I hadn't seen that ring. But it couldn't be unseen. Although I made no outward sign of anything wrong, I could only choke down a few bites of my meal. The whole day pretty much went like that; I'd be fine for a bit and then I'd see that fucking ring...

It shouldn't have hurt. 

I had no claim on her, and no particular hope of getting back with her. And of course this was always going to happen at some point - this girl's ovaries were in full rumble. (Not to say she was a slut; it is to say she wanted kids. A lot.) 

Shouldn't have hurt. 

I can't be selfish in this, I wish them happiness and a wonderful life together. It's the least I can do. 

When we got a moment alone (many hours later), I brought it up. Confirmed my deductions were right (they all were). I congratulated her. So very carefully, so calmly. I think, I hope, I hid that my guts were knotted and rebellious. Maybe she picked up on a little of it, don't know. But she does care about me, I know that. It isn't some "guilt" thing that she likes having me around and counts me as a close friend. 

Somehow this makes it worse.

I'm not one for showing my pains to the world. Even this blog is far, far too revealing, too vulnerable and open - but it's gotta go somewhere and at least this way I don't have to face unloading on someone directly and making them deal with me when they likely have better things to do. 

I have nothing to break. 

On Racism

I recently read an article wherein the author contended that everyone, everyone, is racist. 

She further contends that being white automatically = having a life of comparative privilege. 

And she still further contends that it's unlikely a white person can truly understand what it's like to be on the wrong side of racism.

To which I reply, unequivocally but with respect: Bullshit. 

Now, I do realize I am currently a heterosexual white male in North America, which perhaps isn't exactly the right background upon which one would rightly base such a blanket refutual. Particularly, one could say, against this author, who is a "person of color". 

Well, it's true that my own personal life experience has been a wonderful and idyllic dream compared to the travails and tragedies of the poor starving children in Africa. To say nothing of, for instance, those living in Watts in the 60s (I don't actually know what conditions are like there now, sorry). I'm not going to deny that, but I don't see any reason I should apologise for it, either.

That said, how about we deconstruct the second contention, about being white automatically inferring privilege. 

It's an entirely racist comment (and to her credit, the author does not deny this), and patently untrue when taken on a global scale, to say nothing of a historic one.  

I don't even need to Godwin this. How about people living in the former USSR? They're predominantly white. They had to put up with some pretty shitty conditions and the Eastern Bloc STILL isn't what I'd call a first-world zone. The disparity of living conditions between former-Soviet countries and America is still fairly stark; I'm pretty sure nearly everyone living in the USA has a MUCH better time of things than those guys. Regardless of color in either area.

How about this idea that I can't possibly understand what it's like to be discriminated against because of my skin color (just because I'm white)?  Well, there are a number of things I can say to that; they can pretty much all be summed up as "Fuck you", but I realize this isn't a sufficiently cogent argument.

So: Firstly, I live in Los Angeles, California, and have for many years.  And I've made my way around the block; around several, in fact. That I've remained relatively unscathed may in part have to do with my race, but I think it more has to do with the fact that I'm not stupid or suicidal; nor do I see any value in dick-swinging contests of any stripe. 

Nonetheless, I have been discriminated against quite a number of times, for reasons including but not limited to skin color. I have had to deal with slurs based on my skin color, of hostility arising from it, regardless of my own personal actions, motivations or preferences. In other words, I've had to deal with racists. Did they stick a flaming cross in my front yard? No. But as I understand it, that sort of thing is passe these days, amongst the bigoted types.

Secondly, who the fuck are you, Miz Writer Person, to say what I can or do know? Are you suddenly telepathic on a globaland personal scale, can you read my deepest thoughts stretching back through my entire existence? By your own argument, you invalidate yourself. You say that not having experienced something, you can't know what it's like - but you yourself haven't experienced "not having experienced"; ergo how can you know what it's like to not have experienced something? Is it a "before and after" thing? Because your memory is ostensibly limited to your current lifetime, in which case you don't have any "before" to experience. Moreover, you haven't lived my life, so how would you know whether I know anything?

I'm not mad, really. I just think it's fucked up that people of all colors are still petty, racist little assholes even when they crusade against racism. 

Now look, I'm not saying racism doesn't exist, or that it doesn't suck, and hard. Because it does, and it has, and I get pretty riled up when I see anyone being discriminated against. 

But dig it: Did you notice I didn't qualify my statement with "because of their skin color"? That's because I get pretty riled up when I see anyone being discriminated against NO MATTER WHAT the excuse is. 

I don't care what your biological background is. If you ever use it as an excuse for divisiveness amongst your fellow man, you are being racist. The prejudice really does go both ways, and I seriously can't believe I have to explain this, but obviously I do. 

Now sure a person could walk up to me and say, "It's easy for you to say, white boy. Your people were never enslaved."  And maybe they'd be right. Except I'm Irish on my dad's side, and you don't hear me pissing and moaning about English offenses against my ancestors which included wholesale slaughter, economic sanctions and other unpleasantries. In fact, I figure I could probably find some "being a slave" shit somewhere in my genetic history, considering what the hell country WASN'T someone's slave at one time or another? 

Also, I'm a Scientologist and I really don't often talk about how oppressed we are, and how discriminated against in various parts of the world, and how unfair it is that people look at us funny and laugh at us because they believe what South Park told them. I mean, yeah, I'll bring it up now and then and I'll deal with it when I have to, but I don't walk around feeling aggrieved, badgered and marginalized about it my whole bloody life. I surely don't use it as a "card" to get my way or cut people down. If I have to use "I'm a victim" to win an argument or get my way, I've already fucking lost, haven't I? 

I'm actually more bothered by the fact that I'm getting older which means the chicks in my age bracket will likely have less perky tits than I've been used to.  And no, for the record: I'm not a shallow guy.

Race is just an excuse to foster divisiveness amongst our species. So is nationality, religion, sex, age, and literally any other arbitrary classification possible.

Here in the real world: There ARE things that some people are better suited to than others. The list of those things, if it existed, would be CONSIDERABLY shorter than bigots would have the world believe, and notably lacking in references to skin color as far as I can figure. But that doesn't refute the reality that a 7-foot-tall person can reach a higher place than a 4-foot-tall person. You can't call that discrimination; that is a PRACTICAL consideration. 

Other than such practical considerations, there really is no logical reason for "us vs. them" within the human race. The only such divisions exist purely out of frankly arbitrary considerations of members of those groups. 

We have better things to do than squabble about melanin; more important things to be concerned with than the past (and especially things that happened to people centuries dead). Right now is important; the future is important. We're faced with a great many gnarly issues as a race, and on every single level I can conceive as I write this, all of those have more to do with our survival as a race (which is to say, homo sapiens - not black, white, red, yellow or mulatto) than any of those arbitrary and frankly idiotic distinctions. 

So, really. Still think I'm a racist?