The painting.

You know, I was thinking earlier today that I seem to enjoy finding situations of increasing complexity. But then I came to the thought that perhaps all human interactions are incredibly complex. Just that with experience comes the ability to discern the minutiae that creates the texture of those interactions.

For example, being able to identify a single broad brush stroke in a painting, but bit by bit seeing each one for what it is, until you begin to see more of a composite image out of these individual brush strokes. You start to make out the lines that together define a tree trunk. Eventually a horizon comes into view. Elements of the sky come into focus. In the end, you might get a glimpse of the whole painting.

So then it wouldn't be so much that the situations are more complex as it is that I have a better grip on what is actually going on. Not really a bad thing at all.

Another silly chemistry metaphor.

I don't remember what exactly got me to thinking about this. Yet somewhere I got an idea in my head for a metaphor to describe emotional states. Oh. Yeah. Now I remember what it was that I was thinking about. But I'll just gloss over that ...

So here we go. Let's start with some basic chemistry first. Atoms consist of protons, neutrons, and electrons. Nuclei have a set composition at least to a certain degree. The number of protons determines what element you have, and neutrons the isotope. So maybe I could try to fit radioactivity in here but I won't. This is going to get stretched pretty thinly as it stands.

Electrons are generally more interesting, as they are heavily involved in chemical reactions. Like emotions and human interactions. In a neutral atom the number of electrons is equal to the number of protons. Pretty elementary. The electrons, however, are not clustered in one spot like like the other particles in the nucleus. Instead they wander about probability clouds, or orbitals.

If you do the math, the probability of finding a single electron around a single proton (a hydrogen atom) can be mapped out, and we end up with a sphere. So there's the first orbital. And two electrons with opposite spins can reside there happily, but when you add a third you end up with a new orbital. Also a sphere, but larger and there are locations where you won't find that third (and fourth) electron. The next orbital holds up to six and actually resembles lobes along an x-, y- and z-axis. Point being, the orbitals get more complex and more importantly, they fill in a specific order.

The reason they fill in a specific order is due to the energy state of the orbital. Lowest energy states fill first, because that's the natural order of things. All things being equal, things tend toward the lowest energy state. Furthermore these energy states are quantized. We can give discrete energy values to each orbital and there is no in between. So we can measure how much energy an electron absorbs or emits if it jumps from one orbital to another.

Now emotions can't be quantized. At least not in the sense that I can tell you that I feel x number of units of affection for this person but I feel y units of love toward this other person. We do qualify our emotions, however, with descriptors that attempt to identify the degree of an emotional state. You might go from "I like you" to "I like you very much" and eventually to "I love you". And so on. Sure, we could discuss context as well, but I'll assume that's mandatory for communication between two or more people. Here I'm thinking in terms of measuring just myself, so I can provide my own context for my qualifiers. An emotional particle in a box, if you will.

I suppose I always thought of emotions developing gradually over time. But it seems to me that the onset is so rapid, that often a new state is achieved through some combination of experience and rationalization. Okay, so your mileage may vary. But it would generally follow that to achieve a "higher energy" emotional state, say to fall in love with someone, then the previous "orbitals" need to be filled in order to have a stable emotional state. What causes these to be filled can vary. An environmental trigger. Something he or she said or did. The possible factors are numerous.

Let's return to the atom for a moment. It is possible for a photon to come along and hit our electron, causing it to absorb a specific amount of energy thus exciting it and causing it to jump to another orbital. We actually observe this on a daily basis. When the electron returns to its original state another photon is emitted, and depending on how the energy is conserved it can be of a different wavelength. This is used in fluorescent light bulbs. Phosphorescence is a slower decay. But back to our person.

So something out of the ordinary happens to this person. And there's a jump in emotional states. But because the excitation is temporary, because there isn't a stable shell, this emotional state is bound to return to its ground state. But we as humans don't fluoresce or phosphoresce or such. The energy still has to go somewhere though. An outburst. An abnormal change in emotional state. Something cathartic might alleviate that perhaps.

The fox, the dog, and the lake.

Once, in a small forest, a young dog befriended a young fox. They would frolic and play by the side of the lake. After tiring each other out, the fox and the dog would sit and chat about the future while staring out onto the lake.

"I am going to set out to explore the world to find adventure beyond this mere forest!" exclaimed the dog.

The fox was curious as to what his friend intended to seek out, and so asked, "What is it that you wish to find?"

"I don't know," the dog replied without so much as a second thought. "But surely I will know when I do."

The fox nodded and continued to stare at the still water. In this way he sat when the day finally came for the two friends to part ways.

The dog was concerned for the fox's seemingly complacent attitude, and urged his friend to accompany him on his journey. The fox politely declined with a smile.

"Not knowing what I seek, I prefer to sit by the lake, where I know I can be content," the fox said.

A few years passed, and while wandering through the forest, the dog saw the fox sitting by the lake as he always did.

"Still sitting by the lake I see?" the dog inquired of his friend, thinking to boast about his many adventures.

"Indeed." The fox beamed. "I am waiting for my beloved, as we are to meet here before finding a meal. And what of you, my good friend?"

The dog recounted a few of his more interesting stories to the fox, but felt uneasy about his own lack of a family. Unable to deal with the feeling the emptiness, he decided to travel again beyond the reaches of the forest with no particular goal in mind.

The friends bid each other farewell once more. Several more years passed before they met again, this time each near the end of his life.

The fox still sat by the lake, now languishing in his final days. The dog approached him and without so much as a greeting began to pour lamentation upon his old friend.

"Woe is me," the dog cried, "for I have done little with my life, and have fathered ungrateful whelps."

Nodding, the fox sat in silence for some time. Finally, he said, "I cannot say I have any complaints. My beloved has passed on, and I fear I am not long after. But we shall be survived by a beautiful son and daughter. And my best friend has come to visit me one last time. I can go in peace."

The dog puzzled over this. "Every time I see you, you are simply sitting here by the lake. And yet you seem perfectly content with your life. How can that be?"

The fox shrugged. "When you left, I was so lonely. So I stayed here, and my beloved happened upon me. Recently, I had thought to see you again, and started to come here again. And here we both are. I could never force myself to go looking for something without knowing what I was looking for, and perhaps that is just as well."

The dog nodded and sighed. At least, realizing what his friend had always known, he decided to stay by the lake with his friend until their end of days.

If I were a cat

I was thinking of something short to write about for the sake of practice. And I noticed two of my housemates' cats are sitting at the top of the stairs and sort of staring off into the distance. They're quite adorable. So I got to thinking about what I would do if I were a cat. Here we go.

If I were a cat, I'd definitely want to be an indoor cat. Oh sure, it'd be nice to be able to saunter the yard around in the spring or autumn, with the crisp green grass under my paws. Maybe even scare a bird or two. But you know how many friends of mine I've seen get spooked and then end up in a tree? That's just not for me. If I want to practice for American Idol try-outs, I'll do it from the safety and comfort of the other side of the patio door, and at ground level mind you. Maybe a little song for my human servants to let them know that I need a snack.

I would start and end every day with a nap. A deceptively, disarmingly light sleep, since drowsiness can strike any time, anywhere. Curiously, some people just don't notice the difference in texture between my sleek, soft, well preened fur and the ancient worn shag carpeting when they are putting their foot down. So I have to be ready to bolt at a moment's notice. I mean. I'm not a squeak toy after all.

Meals would be more of a throughout the day experience. I would expect that there always be a plate of dry food left out for me, and that's fine. It's somewhat meager fare compared to the wet stuff, but I've always been the type that would much rather graze a buffet all day long than have one sumptuous meal a day. Not to mention that I've always had a sort of distaste for Pavlovian conditioning. But it can't be helped if you eat the wet stuff all of the time. The unmistakable pop of the easy-open can lid, and the metal on metal shearing as your servant pulls with his index finger, back and away. What should be a grating dissonance becomes a glorious melody, a harbinger of satiation and satisfaction. The food's great, but at the expense of becoming a slave to the sound of a can opening? I'm not sure about that.

Lastly, I would try to be an ambassador for felines to humans. Oh sure, being cute and adorable is great, but people need affection too. Like curling up on someone's lap, a meow hello when someone gets home. Dogs seem to enjoy a status as man's best friend. But there's no reason that has to be. See, I'm going to start changing the status quo. Right after this nap ....

Shard - Ainixia's monologue

Ainixia is a character in a story that I'm writing. If she were sitting in a room all by herself, thinking out loud, her monologue would sound something like this ....


I don't remember anything that happened before I started working for him. Just these feelings, like an oily residue all over my mind. I can't clean it up, you know? It smears, smudges, but never comes off. And it's like a venom, seeping into me. Anger and jealousy, all that. Always been a part of me. Maybe that's why I'm here now. I often think that's the case.

So I try to change but what am I really trying to change? Myself, or the world around me? And even if I change the world, am I really changing others around me or just my appearance, thus the perception of me? I thought these were pretty simple questions but no one wants to give me a straight answer. Only you can know that, I get told. Or the answer lies within. Or without. It doesn't make any sense! I'm not asking for contradictions! I mean sure, there's a parallel I can draw between answers like these and the dualities that exist in nature, like the particle wave phenomenon of photons, but that's just a metaphor. I'll leave that shit to the others. I don't really like words. Numbers and code. That's concrete. I get that.

Really I don't know why I started asking myself these questions either. I guess I feel the need to change myself. I do have the feeling I was okay with myself when I was a child. At least from what little I can remember. So there's got to be a trigger somewhere. Something that set me off. Pushed me down this slope, you know? I'll find it too. And at least I'll have a starting point. But my big fear is that it's all just a big cascade of events and decisions, this life, and knowing where I began won't reverse what's been done to me. How the world has shaped me. Or is it how I shaped the world? Maybe it doesn't even matter because that emotional residue, it really is stuck. And I'll always be kind of angry. Part of me wants to reject that notion though because it would mean we're predestined to meet a certain end. All because we can't overcome our physical nature. If we can't control our chemical impulses, our reactions, we're doomed to that thing we call fate.

I'm just going in circles. This is awful. No way to live. I'll change things though. I have a plan. There's something in the back of my mind that's trying to guide me. Whispering to me. Maybe I should start listening. He'll notice then. Oh, he'll notice ….

The world is peachy.

And now for something completely different.

It's funny how the little details stick with you over the years. Let me recount an example of what I mean.

I spent the entirety of my sixth grade year in England. My father was in the Air Force, and my mother and I came along when he was stationed at RAF Mildenhall. We were in East Anglia, about 80 or so miles north of London. I've seen many beautiful places, but none so green as this part of England. During the late spring and summer, pastures and trees form a vibrant, almost surreal verdant blanket over the landscape.

The school I attended was an American middle school located on an Feltwell Air Force base. Being that all of the students were in a foreign country, and a country rich with history at that, every year a low cost trip was offered to the sixth grade class. That year the trip was to Wales to see some three castles: Caenarfon, Conway, and Beaumaris  My parents not only had the good sense to let me go but chose to go themselves as chaperons. Two good friends of mine, Matthew and Paul, were also going.

The bus ride from the school to Llandudno, Wales would be at least half a day. I sat next to Matthew on the bus, and Paul across the aisle from us. My parents and I had traveled frequently by car around the States, so I was used to passing the time by simply staring off at the distant scenery. The edges of the motorways are not nearly so pretty as the oft unkempt vegetation lining smaller roads. Nevertheless, watching trees and structures pass by was a good way to feel a sense of progress toward our destination.

Perhaps an hour or two into the drive, our British culture teacher stood at the front of the bus holding a jar of gingersnaps. The cookies, he told us, were a nice remedy for nausea, should anyone be feeling at all queasy or motion sick. "I guess I'm too late," he muttered.

I hadn't heard anything unusual. No one made any sound indicating some sudden onset of illness. Nor was there an accompaniment of groans protesting in disgust. I glanced over at the aisle and saw what appeared to be spilled peaches. I shrugged and went back to looking out the window even as the bus came to a stop at the side of the road. Matthew left and the teacher came over to clean up. As he did so, he turned to me and asked, "Did he get any on you?"

"Get any what?" I replied quizzically.

Oh.

And it clicked. When Matthew got back on the bus and we started moving again, Paul cackled at me.

"You didn't notice?" he asked.

"I thought he spilled some peaches."

The three of us agreed on that point. I'm not sure to this day how Matthew managed to eat and then expel peaches in such a fashion, but it made for a bit of interesting if not odd conversation. It also wasn't the only time on that trip that he got sick either.

Wales was gorgeous, the castles were magnificent. But as I said, it's funny how the minor details stick out in my mind so vividly. Just goes to show. It's the little things in life.

Building roads.

What is a friend? Well, according to the Random House dictionary, it's "a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard". Fair enough. By The American Heritage Dictionary, one can take a friend to be "a person whom one knows, likes, and trusts".

It's a pretty straightforward definition. And yet such a simple word can mean so many different things. Varying levels of emotion or attachment that aren't and can't possibly be ascribed to a single word by a dictionary entry. At times I find myself mildly frustrated at the word's broad definition. There's a pretty far cry from someone that one just chats with in passing, maybe just at work, and the person with which one shares every dark secret.

Maybe it was my upbringing that taught me to try to work quickly when developing friendships. Military family, move every few years, start over in a new neighborhood, with new people. If you don't want to be lonely there's a certain pressure to make a move. That said, friendship as I remember it in my childhood was pretty easy going. It didn't take much, just find a common interest, a game to play together outside, something along those lines.

As an adult, things are simple to a degree. Perhaps in terms of defining what one wants. Say that I want someone that I can head out with once or twice a week, maybe drink a beer or two, maybe take a walk somewhere and talk, or watch a movie. Someone I can trust, can have a good laugh with. Occasionally discuss serious topics with. Maybe starting to sound a little like a dating advert. But these are qualities that shouldn't be too difficult to find, right?

Except for the part where for whatever reason, it's not so easy. Not to make a deeper connection than just "an acquaintance" (which is incidentally part of second definition in The American Heritage Dictionary). After all, it takes two people to make a relationship of any kind work. Otherwise there's no real friendship, just a dependency.

What I visualize in my mind are two people building a road to nowhere, each coming from a different direction. They see each other. Stop, wave from afar, and continue building the road without really being able to see what the other is doing. Until at some point the two roads now meet, and therein lies a moment of truth, an epiphany as to whether things will ever work out. And maybe if things just happen too quickly, there's a jarring disconnect. Without any time to adjust, to adapt, suddenly these two roads are adjoined and without the most serendipitous coincidence, the two find that not only has their road gone nowhere, but also become a logistical and rational mess. Perhaps a small country road meeting a larger interstate; each road reflecting the emotional needs of its builder. Such a clash should inevitably lead to problems.

I'll take the road metaphor one step further. Roads require maintenance, else they fall into disrepair. They must be driven time again, lest they become strange and unfamiliar. True, there are always the exceptions, but perhaps it is those exceptions that we seek. Certainly not all roads are constructed with equal care.

Recently, I tried to befriend a particular person and in reflecting on it, this is more or less exactly what happened. Oh sure. There's certainly something to be said that I never felt really natural around this person, but I suppose that has a lot to do with trying to build too much road far too quickly; not only for the comfort of this person but for myself as well. Maybe this person didn't really want friendship, maybe this person didn't want much of anything at all. I'm not sure, only sure that I'll never know the answer to that question. Just that the roads built didn't work out.

Frankly, it sort of bothered me, and the thoughts made manifest into text tonight have been flitting around my mind. Someone contacted me. An old friend. Someone that I had connected with very quickly. Even though I rarely get in touch with her, there's still a very special place in my heart for her. I couldn't tell you how that came to be, or why. That she remembers? Meant more to me than I care to try to express in words. I suppose in a sense I was so busy trying to find something special that I forgot how rare it is. Enough introspection.

So friendship. Pardon the trite use of the expression at this point, but friendship is a two way street. So maybe I can live with the dictionary definition after all. A lot of the other words used can vary in depth. How well do you know someone before you can say you "know them"? And how much should you trust someone before you've given a friend you trust? That said, I have a few roads to work on. Maybe a bit slower this time.