A great teacher once taught my friend (who then tossed the wise knowledge to me) that the world of information is changing into the world of creativity.

Well, this worries me. I’ve never been the creative type, you see. I’ve actually always been the guy to recognize great ideas, and then steal them. An intellectual thief (Apparently that’s illegal nowadays). At the end of my freshman year, for example, each student in World History needed to make a scrapbook for their final. While I struggled to think of a creative title, my less-invested-in-school friend (who was failing the class at some point or another) thought of the title “Around the World in 180 Days.”

He didn’t know it, but he struck gold with this idea. Although it’s borrowing off of the novel / movie starring Jackie Chan, it’s also completely relevant, since the course is about scattered, world civilizations learned over the course of 180 days. I recognized the ingenuity of this idea immediately. While he was still wondering whether he should go through with it or not, I told him I was stealing it and promptly took up the title “Around the World in 90 B Days.”

He angrily tried to rip the stickers off  from my scrapbook, but I stuck my tongue out at him, content in how good “my” idea was. He grumpily stuck with the 180 days, and I stuck with the 90 B Days.

I find much of my “creativity” by adapting the genius ideas of those unable to realize just how creative they are. That probably makes me a terrible person. But let me tell you, you don’t get rich by being a nice person. Kidding, but I do, of course, try to add my own ideas and not plagiarize.

The world’s focus is changing from “what you know” to “what you can do with what you know.” A major outlet for creativity, Youtube, turns nobodies into superstars. Youtube, unbelievably, is now a legitimate career path. The highest grossing youtuber makes $315,000 a year. Ridiculous.

Maybe if I sought a partnership with a creative genius, I could improve his ideas and get rich.

Isn’t that what Mark Zuckerberg did with Facebook? He “stole” the harvard social networking outlet, he stole the “relationship status,” and he stole the prestige of some harvard club, turning the site into something sought after and desirable.

Then he became the youngest billionare in the world!

If I could be a genius in anything, I would choose to be a genius in creativity. Because, judging from the direction the world is taking, those who can find creative ways to improve the world seem to get rich or die trying.

And at least I’d die trying.

As any other scholarly gentleman would know, ladies these days believe that chivalry is dead. A fellow gentleman would agree, however, that ladies often prevent proper chivalry from being carried out!

Let’s look at a modern day example:

Gentleman: Here, let me get that chair for you!
Independent Woman: Nah, bro, I got it.

Obviously, this example is exaggerated, fictional, and absolutely true.

After many rejections such as these during Prom (which afterwards my date described it as “not wanting to be a burden”), I speculated this curious phenomenon. In the process of developing my speculations, I explored the concept of altruism.

al·tru·ism – noun:

1. Unselfish regard for or devotion to the welfare of others.

But “Chivalry’s Dead” is another seminar for you gentlemanly scholars. On another note, within these speculations, I found a strange tendency of people in different social situations. There seems to be some psychological effect that prevents two altruistic people from helping each other out.

If an altruistic person offers to help another altruistic person, the offer is often rejected. What I mean by that is, if Susan offers Bob steaming cheese nachos because Bob is hungry, altruistic friend Bob will have trouble accepting the offer, even if he wants them.

This is because Bob sees his own rejection of Susan’s nachos as an act of altruism, or unselfish regard for Susan.

Sometimes, Susan isn’t really altruistic. She just wants to seem nice. She’s actually banking on Bob to reject her melted cheese nachos peppered with delicious jalepenos so that she can eat all of them herself. Ironically, she will seem nice, so now she has street cred with Bob and a plate full of delicious chips and dip.

Oh, selfish Susan…

On the other hand, if Susan truly did wish to feed hungry Bob, she might get frustrated with Bob’s insistent rejection. After all, Bob’s stomach is growling like a grizzly bear after hibernation.

But to convince Bob, Susan might say something like “No, seriously, I don’t like nachos, and I’m too lazy to throw these steaming delicacies away. This is trash and you’re a dumpster.”

No longer feeling the need to maintain his altruistic facade, Bob gladly accepts the nachos.

But I wonder, why is it so much easier to accept an offering out of selfishness than altruism? Is it an issue of pride? Of not wanting to be out-niced by somebody else?

When offering somebody something, if at first they reject it, I name a selfish motive. After hearing my selfish motive, the person accepts my offering. “You’ll make me feel better by taking this.”

Chivalry too. My prom date didn’t accept the arm, the jacket, the pulled-out chair. Not out of malice, but out of the worry for being a burden.

Often, chivalry and altruism make the person doing them feel better. Cynical people (like me), therefore, believe these unselfish acts are not truly out of “unselfish regard for others.”

Nevertheless, I believe with conviction that acts of altruism are necessary for human existence. The feelings of pleasure you get from helping another person out “unselfishly” are felt in the same areas of the brain in which you feel pleasure from sex and food.

The human body is wired, just as they are to eat and to populate the earth, to help one another out. These acts, despite not always being “unselfish”, are what allows patients to receive matching blood from blood donors.

It’s what allows kids from low socio-economic classes to receive school help from volunteers. It’s what drives the labor force in soup kitchens and meal donations.

I believe that one day, if they are carried out enough, unselfish acts will occur not out of the desire to please oneself, but out of the yearning to improve the condition of life for the needy. And maybe, if enough people begin to believe that their simple acts of opening doors, saying please and thank you, or even giving a passing smile is enough to make a difference, the world truly could be a better place.

Dear Future Version of Me,

I wonder what I am like right now. I wonder what kind of friends I have, where I live, where my church is and everything. I wonder how I will turn out. My best friend currently is Jake Rapp and we are interested in Warhammer 40k. I have a PSP and I can solve the Rubik’s cube in 54 seconds (my record). I hope that I will turn out great and graduate from a good school, and have better habits.
Written at Fri Mar 23, 2007

For those in NOVA that witnessed on Friday and Saturday evening, the fireworks were shot from the Fairfax Fair.

I worked at the Fairfax Fair this weekend for 34 hours. 18 hours the first day and 16 hours the second. Crazy. Being an employee I was able to watch the fireworks burst close to where they were being fired.

I don’t know if you’ve watched fireworks up close before, but the most beautiful thing about fireworks is that, after several have been fired, you can see the smoke of its explosion floating away in the wind.

The crisp and clear night sky was the perfect canvas for the streaks of light. With each intense burst of color, the smoke of the previous rockets are lit up. You can see the individual trajectories of the shower of sparks, fleeing from its explosive center, traveling in every direction.

The glory of the explosions suddenly lasts longer than the fleeting half a second the firework took to explode. And it’s like each rocket is exploding to light up the successes, the failures, the dreams, the aspirations left behind by the preceding one.

It’s a great metaphor for the people who affect us in life. I am the culmination of everything I’ve encountered. As in the teachers, the parents, the mentors, the enemies, the friends, the acquaintances, the strangers. The random acts of kindness, the inspiring works of art, the difficult decisions I’ve made, the painful tragedies I’ve mourned.

And with each passing moment, with each flare of color, the smoky trail of those who have touched your life is illuminated by the shimmering glimmer of your present self. You can see it, if you look close enough.

Baby you’re a firework ♪ - haha… but that doesn’t make the song any less annoying.

The time of your life.

Thanks for everything Mrs. Gibbs.

*Disclaimer* This post will sound conceited, presumptuous, cold, bitter, hypocritical, jaded, angry. But trust me, I’m smiling as I type right now. I call it genuineness. I’m not nice. I’m not evil. I’m just… human. (hopefully). Flaws and everything, which by my recognition also possess no shortage or sign of conclusion in you.

That being said: sit back, relax. Read this with some mood music. Here’s my pick:

You know the kinda grin that forces itself out? It’s not a nice or a kind grin. Like when the bully who sits in the back of the classroom sticks a juicy wad of gum in the hair of the helpless girl in front of him, returns to his seat, and tries to continue class normally. Oh – it’s not his smug grin I’m talking about, it’s better.

Status Quo is not possible as he, you, and the rest of the class quickly realize. A uniformed policeman knocks on the door, decked with his gun and shiny badges.

Yeah – the one that slowly crawls onto your face here – that grin. Justice, you might say.

My deepest desire is that somehow you will read this post. And that you will be wearing that grin as you read this. Because as you will soon realize (assuming you have mental capacity to do so) this is about you. And I am that cold-hearted uniformed officer, reminiscing about the times in elementary when kids bullied me, pondering the most savory way to slice, fry, and serve you.

Well first off, I heard what happened the other day. You woke up realizing that nobody loves you. At least nobody around you. The funniest part? You immediately placed the blame on one of your closest friends; it wasn’t him. I know who the miscreant was – he laughed his ass off. Me too, actually. I wonder what your life will be like. You pushing away those who believe to be in some kind of a relationship that matters to you. You, sir, paid too much for the whistle. Who knows – maybe he’ll find the kindness in his heart to forgive you. Maybe? Maybe not. I wouldn’t blame him.

Second – You’re kind of disgusting. Not in like a “gross” sense. I mean it in the most genuine and affectionate fashion available to your limited understanding and emotional spectrum. You disgust me. You told her that I would run and announce to all my friends, “Hey, look who I nabbed?” Perhaps your insecurity derives from the flaws that you see magnified within yourself. But you know what? My flaws aren’t what you quickly jumped to assume they were. I’m both thankful and smug to know you were wrong.

And thirdly – An old friend told me what you told them. “I don’t enjoy eating crabs because the input does not match the output.” First off – this is much like how you approach life, right? You emotionless robot swine. Second of all – CRAB IS FORGET-ING DELICIOUS.

Maybe in a world perceived solely through the eyes of Darwin your point holds validity. But unfortunately for you, we live in a world with a God. We live in a world with Emotion. With Patience, Perseverance, Love. We live in a world where sometimes no matter how many pills or chemo you administer, no matter how much forgiveness, concession, or consolation you offer, no matter how many of her ribs you crack, desperate, willing to trade anything to have her heart to pump again, you will lose that somebody. Maybe somebody you love, dearly.

And you say the input is not worth the output? You are cold. But you know what? I’m almost glad you think like that. I hope your life has, is, and will be dictated by your heartlessness. Because the joke’s on you.

Fourthly, I also heard what you told that formerly special person. It’s funny how you “conveniently” left out the words that led me to that point in the conversation. They were your words. What was it, “Korean girls are so easy to manipulate”? Ironic, how did manipulating her anger and bitterness feel? About as good as it felt waking up to the absence of people who care about you, didn’t it? No wait – I’m sure that was how she felt, my b.

I’m running out of numbers here: I despise your lack of emotion. One day, maybe I’ll force you to examine yourself in the mirror. What do you see? You proud? Are your parents proud? Didn’t think so. It’s amazing that you don’t care, that you play with people’s hearts. Who cares how smart, how talented you think you are, if you aren’t willing to try? I look at you today and you three years ago. Sure, maybe you are higher up on the social ladder. How much did you pay? Was it worth it? I’d wager some buyer’s remorse.

And you call yourself a Christian? I bet that thought’s crossed your mind at least once. Everything is inherently wrong with that question. Think about it. Seriously.

The fact that you’d even form the thought is abominable. You praise not for the glory of God, but for the glory of your peers, for your audience, for yourself. Please. You’re talented, but you’re not that talented, you’re really not.  It’s pathetic, fix yourself.

Furthermore, I know I don’t treat you well (obviously), but the way you treat me leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Instead of the therapeutic, you offer me the emotionally crippling. You simply don’t know emotion, at least not outside of your own. And you’re fine with that. Great.

One more note. As if your thick skull needs reminding, I’m still angry at you. Do you realize? Good, we’re on the same page. I do my best to avoid you, and I’m sorely disappointed at the prospect of future contact. Oh yeah, another thing (I almost forgot). You’re a self-conceited female dog, to say in the least. It’s not the fact that you think I “tried,” it’s the fact that you honestly don’t think I did anything. It’s like being handicapped, which you must be. (I can make this joke because my handicapped mother is one of the strongest women I know). You can’t choose to be HANDICAPPED and choose to be treated EQUALLY, simultaneously. You’re either HANDICAPPED, and you allow others to help you (boohoo – my pride hurts – wahh), or you are EQUAL, and no one is obliged to assist you. You are dense. Seriously dense.

Finally, how does it feel to know that all your dreams and aspirations are dwarfed by my accomplishments? How does it feel to know that everything you’ve yearned for means nothing to me. I despise my accomplishments. Well – it’s more of an added bonus that I’m indifferent towards, but you wouldn’t know anything about that – would you?

And on that positive note, I leave you tonight.

“I’m on the pursuit of happiness,
and I know.

All that shines ain’t always gonna be Gold

And I’ll be fine, and I’ll be good.”

reblogged from yours, taken out of context. still entirely true, and more relevant for me.