A Bland, Banal Birthday

[Nuile the Paracosmic Tulpa]

He may be an incurable egotist, an insufferable introvert, an opinionated orator, an impatient imp, an insipid author, an impractical plotter, a pestilential pedant, a mordant misogynist, and he’s certainly a vainglorious degenerate, a loathsome air-polluting blowhard, a miserable gossip-mongering aberration of nature, a depravity to all of discrimination, a scientific proof that evolution can go in reverse, a plot-less melodrama of uneventful life, a myopic dull-witted mean-spirited poltroon, and a malingering evangelical crusader of sub-mediocrity, but it remains that if you take the time to look deeper and ignore all this, Jean Valjean is almost a half-decent guy. So let's wish him a good day, and help him celebrate the passing of another year, bringing him that much closer to his death!

 

(Oh, and his sister’s a self-righteous caviler and a grotesque visual experience.)

 

My prayers for a blessed birthday,

 

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Edited August 12, 2013 by The Novelist Called Nuile

[EmperorWhenua]

Happy birthday!

 

... TO THE GROUND

 

[Kanakalackin]

Now Prisoner 24601, your time is up and your parole's begun. You know what that means?

 

Happy Birthday!

[Relapse]

I hope it frickin rains.;D

[Sumiki]

Happy birthday.

[Timelady Gallade]

(Un)Happy Birthday!

 

JK JK JK JK JK DONT KILL ME

[Franco]

Happy birthday!

 

... TO THE GROUND

 

I ATE THE REST OF THE CAKE, TOO

 

Anyway have a jubilant birthday Kraggh.

[Jean Valjean]

Who am I?

 

I am a warrior, a defender, a poet, a philosopher, a thinker, a gentleman and a scholar, a lover and a fighter, a saint and a sinner, my father's son, my mother's boy, my sister's keeper, an artist, a traveler, an adventurer, a stranger, a helper, a watcher, a witness, a citizen, a soldier, a follower, a leader, a believer, an angry man, a sad man, a man with hope, the only sane man, the only honest man, the loneliest man, and the biggest fool there ever was.

 

In short, I am a man - a human being formed out of mere stardust, given a beautiful soul. And my name is Jean Valjean.

 

I look out at the world and see seven billion people worthy of equally eloquent descriptions, precious individuals who are more than just mere labels. If I can speak so intimately of myself, and if I am created equal next to everyone else, then does it not stand to reason that everyone is just as unique and beyond one-work descriptions? Why must we insist on defining people by superficial traits, or just one attribute, when they are so much more? Is not the nerd more than just a nerd, but a former child with a story, a family, a job, a wealth of high school experience? History looks at the successful and is willing to define them by their stories. Teddy Roosevelt was more than just a president but also a hunter, a boxer, a father, a philosopher, a writer, a military hero, an historian, and so much more. Yet, when it comes to the little people in life, the people we walk past and deal with casually in our everyday lives, why do we dismiss them as something small and less human than our icons and ourselves? What makes one person less worthy of our respect than another, beyond how quickly they gain our immediate interest?

 

There is a man named Al. He is 26, but you wouldn't know it if you looked at him. He's a short little waif, skinny, frail. It looks like a small breeze could blow him away, and his voice is high-pitched. At first glance, his presence isn't very commanding. At second glance, it still isn't very commanding. These traits have come to define him, because people saw them and started believing in them, and projecting them onto his personality. He became clingy and needy and does not believe in himself. He dropped out of college five times and was never able to hold onto a job. All his life he has been dependent on others.

 

What put him there? Why has he not realized a deepness and wealth of character? I suspect that he turned into the person everyone thought he should be. Why not? All of his obvious traits supported it. Yet, Al doesn't need me to pity him, but to believe in him. Even though at a glance I could probably categorize him a "meek" and never think about what else there is to it, I believe that the meek shall inherit the Earth. I do not merely acknowledge that there is more to him, but I believe there is more to him.

 

I have another friend, and I trust I am not giving to much away by saying that her last name is Smith. Like Al, she's small and superficially meek. She's used to people insulting her and treating her like an inferior or less interesting person. Yet, she's far more than that. She's an artist, setting up her own art business, has a new boyfriend, and just attended her grandmother's funeral today. You look at these things and I dare you to tell me that there's not something special in her life that makes it worth living. On what grounds do I have the right to say that she's not in my league?

 

Once I was an awkward little kid with Asperger's Syndrome and a broken family. I was meek like them, once. Perhaps because I was always tall and strong I was naturally inclined to think highly of myself, to be a little more prideful. I do not know what was differently about myself that life has been turning out differently for me, if only slightly. People think I am cool and I am superficially very pleasant to be around. I have become a legend among a certain college ministry for my radiant personality.

 

Yet I, too, am meek. People have acknowledged me, but hardly anyone has believed in me. Nobody has looked at what I do in my life and says "I want to have a bit of that." I get stereotyped and classified, because it's easier for people to do that. It's so much easier to treat another person like a Tweet instead of a novel.

 

There is one other person, who I have mentioned on my blog and called Airman, for she works in the Air National Guard. She's superficially very nice, and an immediate pleasure to be around. Yet, what was she contributing to the world beyond that? I know that everyone around her puts her up on a pedestal. Lord knows, I want to, too. She's a very nice person, and she's good to other people. Al and Ms. Smith consider her to be a great friend and they love being with her. Yet, I see beyond the outside personality and see all who she is within context. When I look at her, I myself, albeit with a rounder face that's much prettier to look at. I see a broken person, a person weighed down by disappointments and setbacks, a person who could be further along in her life than she is now but has so far gone along at a slower pace than she would have liked. She's more than just a person who loves her faith and her family, but a person who feels unique callings within these respective areas of her life. I see these and I respect them. At the same time, I know she never could have come this far if people didn't believe in her. Did everyone ask what her hopes and dreams were in life? No, I don't think everybody did, but they gave her their confidence, not their pity.

 

Yet, she associates with the meek. I think it is only right to admit that, in her own way, she is meek. I'm not saying this because she was temporarily unemployed, or that her life went along more slowly than she would have liked. I say this because I look at myself, at all that I am at as a human being, at how not just one word can pin me down. In her own unique way, she shares all of that complexity, and like any human being she is incomplete. At the end of the day, what is greatness? What makes her different from the little people, and what makes them different from her? We are all in the same boat. We all need each other. We all need to believe in each other, and that there's something far greater in store for us than we can imagine.

 

Therefore, in my eyes, the great are meek and the meek are great. Value ceases to have meaning, so we stop trying to measure it. We are brothers and sisters, you and I. We each have out own story, and each is equally important because each is infinitely real for the person who lives it. If I am just as important as everyone else around me, then I must make sure than everyone around me is important.

 

Then we all inherent the Earth together. Airman and I could ask for something superficially so much more than what we are going for, but we see beyond the superficial. Perhaps that is what makes us so rich, what makes us great, that we do not have to call ourselves meek and that we aren't tempted to think of ourselves meek, and yet we are willing to "lower" ourselves down to their levels, because we acknowledge and believe that we are equals.

 

I show them that I believe in them. They are not just people I put up with, not just people I come to because I feel sorry for them, but because I want to be with them. Today, I explicitly invited these individuals to be with me on my birthday, because I think they're cool. Somebody has to acknowledge it, and I guess I stumbled across a rare treasure. They are not meek; society treats them meekly.

 

I regret to admit that this last year of my life, since my last birthday, I have all too often forgotten to do that. I would associate with the "cool" people who earned my superficial approval, but when I saw the poor and downtrodden I ran away, afraid of committing to generosity, afraid to tell them that I believed in them. I was willing to pity them, to fulfill the prophecy they created for themselves, and to let one meek thing about them continue to define them and ruin their self-confidence. Instead, like a moth drawn to a street light, I gravitated toward people who were immediately easy to get along with. I gravitated to my new friend, the Airman, because I saw her character and saw that it was appealing like the sweetest fruit. Yet, when I saw that many other people saw that, I realized my guilt; I had only done what was easy. I was a moth, a mere animal.

 

I now turn my attention to the broken part of my world, where I see people in chains and in need of freedom. I see people who think they are happy but really need light in their life. I see my family especially, divided and distraught and devoid of love. This last year, I made many mistakes, but I realize now more than anything that I turned back on the people who need me the most. If no one else will be there for them, someone has to take a stand. And that person is going to be me.

 

Because I know who I am.

 

I am a warrior, a defender, a poet, a philosopher, a thinker, a gentleman and a scholar, a lover and a fighter, a saint and a sinner, my father's son, my mother's boy, my sister's keeper, an artist, a traveler, an adventurer, a stranger, a helper, a watcher, a witness, a citizen, a soldier, a follower, a leader, a believer, an angry man, a sad man, a man with hope, the only sane man, the only honest man, the loneliest man, and the biggest fool there ever was.

 

24601

Edited August 12, 2013 by Jean Valjean

[Let's Henshin!]

tl;dr

 

Happy Birthday man!

[Relapse]

what eveni don't this is a birthday topic

[Nuile the Paracosmic Tulpa]

Kraggh, you disappoint me. I expected that to be longer.

 

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Edited August 12, 2013 by The Novelist Called Nuile

[EmperorWhenua]

And more full of himself, too! Tsk.

[Bundalings]

I'm 20 and what is this.Sincere birthday wishes.

[Jean Valjean]

So the big day is over, and I have to admit that it was incredibly underwhelming, Not a happy birthday, but a boring birthday, if you will. I was hoping to have time with some of the people I mentioned, but each had their own complications. I continued with my plans, however, and went fishing with my father. It would not have been bad if I had the company of friends, but purely between the two of us things could not get any more mind-numbing.

 

Is it normal to fight depression on your birthday? I have been, and it has sort of defined me all day. I've been feeling lovesick. The other day I said goodbye to a woman I love dearly and would have really liked to pursue a relationship with. She made it sound like she would be with me yesterday, but I guess that never came to be. As it stands, I do not know when of even if I will ever see her again, so I had to take much of the day to meditate on evaluating what I really want and where my heart really is. Even if I can let go of hopes for a future with that particular individual, yesterday I still wanted her company. Otherwise, I felt so very alone, like I do on all of my birthdays. There have been a few exceptions, but the majority of my birthdays go by without me seeing any friends, without me seeing much family, and without even my own father acknowledging my birthday. August 12 has always been a special and integral part of my identity, it being the day that my mother gave so much to bring me into this world. I just wish that once a year, when I'm reminded that I'm special, that all the people who mattered in my life could all be there and we could all be happy, just for that little moment.

 

Also, for those who thought I was going off topic with my essay, I wasn't really. I mean, I guess it made sense to me and I thought it would be just as obvious to everyone else. I was talking about the special importance of every individual, which is what birthdays celebrate. Clear as day.

 

I also believe that part of my chain of thought involved my "Carpe Diem" essay from last year, which was inspired by the movie Dead Poets Society. There was a character there whose last name was Meeks, for which Robin Williams's character duly joked.

 

Inherit the Earth, my friends.

 

24601

[Makuta of Time]

I forgot to tell you congratulations on turning another year older. Keepp writing 24601.

[Kanakalackin]

Topic should be closed.

[-Windrider-]

bland closing post