Tag Archives: friendship

When I Tried Courage.

One time, I told my friends not to egg a house,

And so they didn’t, but mischief on their minds and in their hearts and hands,
they egged me instead.Mother said, “Better no company than bad.”

There was this other time, I stood up to the girls giving Sarah a wedgie,
And they stopped.
Unfortunately, their will to wedgie did not cease with their actions.

Beating like my heart, my feet hit the pavement thud after thud. I felt my blood pulsing through my toes, and all my air passages were raw with the erosion of the wind I greedily scraped into them to fuel my escape. Speed or tears blurred my vision, I couldn’t tell.

Three blocks I ran.
Three blocks they chased. I faltered, and there was no mercy.

I’ve decided that being the hero is hard, and that maybe I will only do it on occasion.
Apparently a lot of the work is pro-bono.

At the end of the ordeal, my face covered in tears, snot, and my granny panties which I now wore as both hat and harness, I looked proudly at my reflection in the puddle I had cried for myself.

Mother reminded, “Being a hero is it’s own reward.”

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I Don’t Hate You

I have a friend who liked to debate difficult subjects on facebook. Often it led to fiery disputes among his friends in the forum that was his facebook comments.

It is now with mild chagrin that I inform you, that he feels silenced by hate.

“Well I admit defeat. I have tried hard to open debate and discussion about various topics. Granted Facebook might not have been the best platform for it but I found it was a platform in which people would actually respond with their view. I have been utterly overwhelmed with the responses I have received. Some of you have been great and offered different opinions that I could use to enhance my own and I appreciate it greatly. However I am too weak a person to deal with all the daily hate I receive for expressing opinions contrary to current popular belief. Iv’e always loved Socrates and his search for knowledge and truth and I always tried to channel him but I am not as strong a man as he was. I cannot deal with all the social shaming I receive. It makes me go to a place I do not like to go. So anyway I will not be posting anymore opinions on topics. I’ve accepted that as the minority opinion I have to just keep my mouth shut. Ultimately I value friends and social standing over my search for truth and knowledge. I’ve let you down Socky old buddy. Please forgive me.”

Here is my response:

I’m not trying to start an argument here, but your opinions are popular with plenty of people, just not necessarily the people you are Facebook friends with.

Another thing to consider is that certain arguments that you have made have suggested that you‘re on the side of those who your Facebook friends consider “systematic oppressors.” Even if your statements where intended as, “let us debate the merit of this position!” They were often understood to be your personal opinions. Appearing to be an opinionated, white, cisgendered male, complaining about your right to free speech or (intentionally or unintentionally) marginalizing/undermining the struggles of those that are not your demographic… Has implications. To a person of color or a feminist or a socialist living in a left-leaning liberal part of the country, you can appear to represent the members of the current establishment who do not understand their positions or care to. This can lead to a feeling that you as an individual could be without sympathy or even empathy for someone whom you refer to as a Facebook friend, or people like them that you don’t know.


“This person is sitting here comparing what I view to be two unequal injustices as though they are equivalent– does that mean they believe that just because everyone struggles, inequities in those struggles are irrelevant/invalid?”

In short. I think what you interpret to be hate is actually just resentment of what people fear you represent.

I’ll leave you with this. Next time someone attacks what you believe, ask yourself if logic is defending your idea or if you are defending the logic of your idea.

Example:
“Feminists are oppressive.”
This is a decades old “dogma”, that truly needs to be supported with facts in order to have any merit. Arguments over what oppression is, what feminism is… Are those perceived as not being empowered capable of oppression? Is oppression a state that exists because of a feeling it evokes or can it be defined independently-… Et al.
The speaker presents potentially as opposition to feminism and provides nothing of intentional value to the “feminists.”

However,

Example:
“If self-proclaimed feminists allow themselves to present a misandrous agenda, and care only about dismantling the oppression of women, then this is not only hypocrisy but they’ve failed to provide a mutually beneficial replacement to the system in place.”

This statement points out an understanding that feminism is about changing the status quo… but the speaker cares about what it will cost the other parties. Whether the change will be a true improvement or simply an endless power struggle.
The speaker presents potentially as ally to the “feminists” and provides constructive criticism.

Sometimes people care so much about things, they forget to show they care about each other.”

It’s nice to hear what those who disagree with you think about your views. And whether or not your views can stand the crucible of criticism.

It is not, however, nice to have your character attacked because of what you believe. And so I want to make sure that is never the way in which I engage another human being.

The Ceiling

-My craft is the death of me.-

Sandra lay in her bed staring intently into the darkness. She wanted to call him. The freckled boy from down the road…

When she first caught the wicked glint in his eye, she didn’t think much of it. Maybe it was just the way he looked at things. He seemed the type to always be scheming. And while that ordinarily would be off-putting and maybe even a little scary… She found it an incredibly charming shade on him and wouldn’t rather see him in any other color.

It was a surprise to her when she asked a friend to find him for her after that first night. They’d barely spoken three words or paid the other any real attention… But their eyes met a few times and that seemed to be enough…

It was a surprise when she cast him a coy, “…drinks?” and he responded by inviting her over to create a new kind of cocktail for a joint party they ought to throw on the weekend.

She didn’t think much of it, but suddenly they had an excuse to spend time each day for three days. She didn’t quite know it yet, but she thrilled at the prospect…

And as drinks led to her rambling on about social justice the first night, surely embarrassing herself and he had a date to attend the second night with his latest prospect, whom he professed to be truly interested in… It definitely didn’t come as a complete shock when during a quiet moment in hosting she yanked him away into the coatroom, for a few seconds of slap and tickle… And scratching. And she could still feel his nails drawing across her skin. And there was some bristling excitement left as she considered what were some of the most exciting kisses she’d shared with anyone in recent memory. But they didn’t end the night in the same bed.

And so there she lay, in her own bed. Staring. Confused.

“Do I call him?” she wondered? What should she say? Was there a right or wrong move? And was there a safe line to toe in such a situation…

Why, oh why had she sleep with his roommate?

She’d wanted to. And this perplexed her further.

Sandra wondered aloud to herself if she was allowed to want this. Her brother said yes, which startled her because she didn’t realize that he’d been reading below her in his bed, nor that she was talking out her predicament in short disconnected, but intelligible ramblings.

“But Michael, are you sure I’m not a slut?”
“No.”
“Oh that’s really helpful.”
“I don’t know you’re life. Well I do, but-…”
“But nothing. Is it bad that I want both roommates? They literally are both keeping me up at night…”
“Why do you want them? Don’t you have a boyfriend already?”
“Well, it’s a long way from here to Spain… And I love him, I really do… But David is fun and Sam is really freakin cute. Am I allowed to tell you they’re good in bed-…”
“No.”
“Too late, Or well I think David would be but I know Sam is.”
“So if you’re already doing this, what’s the problem?”
“I don’t know…”
“Then there isn’t a problem and I’m going to bed.” James rolled over in his bed and sighed.

“…The problem is that I did it but I want to keep doing it and don’t know how to do that! Also I didn’t tell Esteban the whole truth so now I’m keeping a secret… Which kind of makes me want to do it more, but makes me feel like a bad person even though it’s not against the rules unless I don’t tell him! So technically-…”
“You’re not a slut, you’re a floozy and I just want to sleep! Just tell Esteban and don’t worry about any of the room mates unless they try to sleep with you again? Ok? Ok. I’m going to bed Sandra.”
“But-..”
“BED!”
“…Hmph.”

Sandra lay in her bed staring intently into the darkness. She wanted to call him. The freckled boy from down the road…