Devotion

How much devotion is too much devotion? Is there even such a thing as "too much"? Is there a difference between devotion and clinginess? These are but some of the questions that people think about but hardly ever want to talk about, civilly at least.

For me, devotion is healthy until you have renounced your friends, and your dignity and self-respect all for something that might only have been false hope from the start. You were probably too blind to see this until after the fact. Or post-facto as some say. Of course, you only realize this in retrospect because that's how it is: one only learns things during and after, not before. Like I just said. Circularly.

Now, devotion can go towards a wide range of things. Hobbies and people seem to be the two that arrest the most devotion. Not that it's necessarily bad... until you go too far. When you become too devoted to a person, you're either clingy or obsessed, and if you take THAT too far they'll break up with you or slap you with a restraining order. Either way, if you show too much of anything, you're considered creepy.

Devotion is something that I've given almost liberally, now that I actually think about it. Perhaps for misguided reasons or because other reasons that are, at present, unknown to me. One thing is for certain: I fucked up. How? Because I learned that there is such a thing as too much devotion and that giving too much to something else is a bad move. Especially when you believe yourself to be self-less by not demanding anything in return. That should only prove devotion and not a misguided sense of altruism. Asking for something or even demanding it isn't the end of the world, it just shows that in order to continue with any form of devotion there must be validation. Devotion without validation is a sucker's game. When that "something else" vanishes, you're left with a hole to fill, if you're lucky. If you're unlucky, you're left with a vacuum, or the stereotypical but inaccurate image of a black hole. Because it sucks everything up only to destroy.

Of course, one can recover from this particular loss but the time it takes to gather your marbles is time that could have been put to better use doing anything else like improving the self or the environment (generally speaking). This is probably why one should be careful and not be so goddamn devoted to one thing that everything else falters and fails because of it. Two way streets, give and take, giving without receiving is a sucker's game. Receiving without giving is for parasites.

Devotion.

Never Quite the Same

While reading my older entries (for ideas, mainly). It came to my attention that I've made many spelling errors and typographical errors and, perhaps more importantly, that I've never actually written about heartbreak. I might have hinted at it or mentioned it in some very vague way but I've never actually sat down and collected enough thoughts about it to form a substantial post. This is probably because I'm not comfortable with writing about it, which I'll try to explain in the following paragraph.

Heartbreak isn't really something one can write about without baring a portion of themselves. Nor is it something one can write about without sounding selfish, to some degree, because you would take the path that applies most to you. It's different for everyone (which can be said of most, if not all, things). This uniqueness prevents a solid, all-encompassing definition from existing and therefore from applying to everyone correctly. There's really no "one size fits all" explanation for something as profound as heartbreak. It isn't something one can easily write about either because it really doesn't need an explanation as it is something that everyone has already experienced at some point or another, or at the very least can extrapolate based on the word alone. What more can actually be said about it? It's a very painful experience and it plants the seeds for growth.

So, with a sense of hesitation overwhelmed by a desire to write... it's time to generalize while trying not to sound like a complete ass.

Heartbreak. Vile. Crushing. Agonizing. Defeat. These are some of the many words used to describe that experience that everyone will go through at some point. Like love, there are different types of it. The most common (or the one written about the most) relates to relationship (in which two people exclusively associate with each other emotionally and sexually) and, of course that pesky notion of romance. Or more easily written: romantic relationships.

Heartbreak comes forth in many stages that range in magnitude but perhaps the most painful (or again: the one that has been written about the most) comes when a relationship ends. With this particular brand of heartbreak, one should think of the concept of an earthquake. It often takes you by surprise and what seems to go on for a while doesn't actually last very long though it can be quite destructive and there really isn't much you can do other than endure and pick up the pieces and move on. Of course, what that should probably really mean is that the relationship ending is the earthquake and the pain that follows (often attributed as heartbreak) is the aftershock and the picking up of broken and disheveled pieces of the whatever you want to call it.

Do I actually know what the hell I'm talking about? Yes but like I said before, it's a tricky subject to write about because you have to be careful to not sound biased or too personal. After all, I'm trying to sound as neutral and blank as possible without being too much of a generalizing, condescending ass. But it obviously isn't working because I'm talking in circles and had to write and explanation, and admit that I can't actually write.

There is one truth in all this though: things are never quite the same after it.

That level of devotion that once bound you both began to peter out. Despite your best efforts, there was really nothing to be done to save anything. And that's where the real tragedy lies: the inability to do anything about a sinking ship. Other than let the cold waters engulf you slowly as the bright blue sky of yesterday becomes blurred and distorted by the cold waters of misery and loneliness. And you sink further and further, that blue sky become darker and darker and distant.

But you get sick of that feeling of death where you feel your whole world is actually shit and that there's nothing to be done other than sink and feel worthless. Then it clicks: this sucks, and you become tired of having your self get dragged down and filled with misery, so you straighten yourself up and begin the difficult swim back to the surface. Back to the blue skies. With each stroke, you feel some sort of pain and a feeling of wanting to give up and just sink down and wallow in misery. But you keep going because this shit sucks. Finally, your head reaches the surface and breathes in for the first time in what seems to be an eternity and you marvel at that blue sky. Always been there but different somehow. The clouds of yesteryear don't seem to be there, or there seem to be different clouds. Perhaps not the gray ones that haunted you but big white and fluffy, made brighter by a beaming sun. Hope? And as you marvel at the sky, you keep trying to stay afloat.

Perhaps not an earthquake.

The Wacky Mishaps of Professor Mole Vision

Liked I mentioned in the other post, I was reading through my earlier entries and saw many spelling errors. Among them were: missing letters, letters in the wrong places, and sometimes, missing words. I really can't explain why or how, other than the fact that I was probably being careless. I try to be somewhat meticulous with my writing... sometimes.

The way it's usually worked is that with academic writing, I've done one draft and turned it with no revisions and received a good grade. Up until I started college, then the professors began demanding multiple drafts though I really didn't want to write any more for them as I was satisfied with the grade I received (usually a high mark). I sound like an arrogant jerk, don't I? I'm simply stating the truth: I've done what I consider to be a minimal effort and received a damn good mark. Of course, it could be that I'm so hyper-critical of my own abilities that I perceive my abilities to be lesser than what they may in fact be. But I really have no way of knowing these things as of right now because I am still unable to view things without a horrible bias of sorts. A bias against myself, despite the fact that I love myself.

But getting back to the topic at hand...

My vision sucks, I have to wear glasses. But it's not that bad that I can't recognize keys and characters on a keyboard; therefore, the only logical explanation for any of this is that I was being careless. Or, more in keeping with the title of this post: Professor Mole Vision can be rather careless when it comes to writing. How? He'll keep writing and get so lost in his writing that he'll not notice the mistakes in spelling he's made.

Of course, sometimes, I'll write something rather outlandish that'll still make sense. What? Using "quantum of solace" in an academic essay not at all related to James Bond but Coleridge.

Yeah.