Haaaaaave You Met Ted?

Remember that post I wrote a few weeks ago? The one about choosing one word to describe yourself? This one here (in case you missed it). I had always used the word “eclectic”, sometimes even “eccentric”, to describe myself. In the post I also decided the word “genuine” would be a good fit. Recently, thanks to my aforementioned watching too much TV, I learned a new word that fits pretty perfectly: “anhedonic”. According to the dictionary, it means “lack of pleasure or of the capacity to experience it”. Basically, it means you’re never happy. Not necessarily in the slit-my-wrists-depressed sort of way, but in the nothingisevergoodenoughalwayssearchingformore kind of way.

an·he·do·ni·a [an-hee-doh-nee-uh]

Noun PsychologyLack of pleasure or of the capacity to experience it.
Origin:
1895–1900; < Greek an- an-1+ hēdon ( ) pleasure + -ia -ia
Related forms
an·he·don·ic [an-hee-don-ik], adjective
Example:

Ted, if you wanted to be married by now you would be but your not and you know why? Because you’re irrationally picky, you’re easily distracted, and you’re utterly anhedonic.”

That’s me!  I mentioned before my personality similarities to Dr. House, but scratch that. I am Ted Mosby. I have only just started watching How I Met Your Mother from the beginning (after a year of harping from my friends), and at least through Season One, I have found what is somewhat the story of my life. Although, if you read this blog, you would probably think that TV is the story of my life. Funny thing is– I don’t watch that much TV. 

Advertisements

Quick and Shameless Self-Promotion

I like to think my blog slowly gains hits (and when I say slowly, I mean tortuga!)  I’m not sure whether they are from friends or strangers as few tend to leave comments.  It is also noticed that while I love my blog posts (and see them as probably the more interesting to read),  I can’t help but feel my poetry, which was the original purpose of my blog, goes unnoticed.  I do not post them in the main blog feed as I consider them more fixed than fleeting thoughts and events.  And they have proven themselves consistently relevant time and again.  In any case, they can be found at the top of the page under “POETRY” and are listed in chronological order, though the chronology spans over a decade!  Anywho, they’re there, so read them if you like.  K, thanks.

The Eccentric Me For All To See

When I first bought my car four years ago, it was newer and different from any of my other previous vehicles.  It had round vents and edges, and a center control panel instead of the usual behind the steering wheel kind.  It reminded me of a spaceship. Or rather, the old but futuristic notion in my head of what a cartoon spaceship might look like.  This association was furthered by the fact that it is blue, like the sky, which connects to space, which spaceships fly through.  It makes sense in my head (as, often, strange things do).  Ever since this time I have referred to my car as a spaceship, an assertion that often brings ridicule, however playfully it may be intended.

But, I believe, that it is such thoughts that make us unique.  For if everyone made the same connections and saw everything the exact same way, where would new ideas and inventions come from?

I mourn the death of relationships more than I mourn the death of people.  In my mind, when a person dies, your relationship with them is frozen forever in that state (which was hopefully a favourable one).  But when both parties to continue to live on, the relationship has more opportunity to fizzle and often does.  ‘Tis a much greater loss to lose all connection with a person who may still very well be right in front of you.

Sometimes reading the Bible makes me want to play Age of Empires.  An association which, again, makes sense in my head but may seem superficial or sacrilegious to others.

I have studied languages all my life but have never been able to imitate accents.  I speak every language with a horrible American accent.  But, after spending one semester in Georgia, I soon began to speak in a much more “Southern” dialect which has stuck with me to this day.  And after mere weeks of watching movies and reading Jane Austen books, I find myself writing notes as if I were writing in Victorian England (though this present post has not had much opportunity to show that).

I have been known, on more than one occasion, to dance backwards, or, more correctly, opposite the general face of the dance.  My fellow dancers may recognize this simply as a way to spice up and otherwise monotonous and over done dance.  The unknowing observer may see it as me not knowing what I’m doing, or perhaps not taking the dance seriously enough.  It is much more than either of those.  It is representative.  Dance is representative of life and all its sensibilities.  In every form of dance, as in life, there are leaders, there are followers, and there are those who stand up and proclaim that they shall be neither.  They will be neither sheep, nor shepherds, nor goats, but they will be horses – mares and stallions – who you may choose to ride beside, or stand behind in their dust.  Regardless, they will do what they must.

It’s things like this that make us unique.  Those idiosyncrasies or eccentric ideas that seem uncouth and sometimes get blurted out at inappropriate times.  Thoughts that society dictates should remain in your head and perhaps not even there.  It is for these things (unlike just about everything else) that I will NOT apologize.  For these things make me me.  And if you do not like them I suggest you take them up with my creator.  For it is they which define me.  My thoughts, my eccentricities and the way I treat the people around me.  These are the things that matter, not my job, or my possessions, or even the amount of knowledge I gain.  For what use is any of that?  The best I can ever hope to be is, well, me.

Blog Stats

  • 3,332 hits