Walking in the Light

Musings from a son of the Father

Gryffindors are largely defined by their courage, but they are also impulsive, passionate, and transparent. We see in canon many instances of our Gryffindor examples acting with very little thought to consequences, driven mostly by their emotions and their (usually clouded) perception of the situation. Gryffindors are typically choleric and tend to wear their hearts on their sleeves rather than attempting to guard their emotions. They value honesty and honor above most other virtues, though this is sometimes to their detriment, particularly in matters of business and politics. Their courage and devotion to honor often leads to arrogance, and Gryffindors often find themselves having bitten off more than they can chew. Gryffindors prefer direct questions and clear answers, and can therefore appear impolite. They have no interest in playing games of mind or politics, and often find themselves in a disadvantage in an argument against a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin, trapped in a labyrinth of logical argumentation. The most emotional of the four houses, Gryffindors are heart-driven, which results in moments of fierce devotion and passion as well as occasional disloyalty. This makes them often inconsistent in motivation. Their tendency to avoid consideration of consequences and allow themselves to be driven by passion makes Gryffindors the most likely of the four houses to be romantically disloyal and cheating, although their devotion to honesty makes it difficult for them to be underhanded or sneaky. A Gryffindor’s fighting style relies on brute strength and technique, rather than strategy. A Gryffindor places no value in stealth, and one accurate portrayal of a Gryffindor warrior would involve a man wearing bells in his braided hair, under the philosophy that a Gryffindor would have no need or desire to sneak up to an enemy. Gryffindor house finds its enemy in Slytherin, and its greatest ally in Hufflepuff.



Famous Gryffindors include Beowulf, John F. Kennedy, Jake Sulley (Avatar), Peter Pan, Jack Shepherd (LOST)




Ravenclaw is the most cerebral of the four houses. Unlike the passion/emotional-driven Gryffindors, Ravenclaws find their motivation in logic and academic argumentation. This is not to say that they do not value honor, honesty, friendship, love, ambition, or any other quality in which the other houses excel, but that the reason for any Ravenclaw’s devotion is a foundation in sound argumentation. Ravenclaws value art, beauty, etc. on the grounds that there exists a logical explanation for the intrinsic goodness and necessity of these right-brained things. A Ravenclaw finds it difficult to take things at face value or as a matter of blind faith – they must be able to explain intellectually the reason for any system of beliefs. Ravenclaws are not as stubborn and unyielding as the proud Gryffindor, but will not change their minds unless they are convinced through sound argument. In the political arena, Ravenclaws excel through an excellent grasp of labyrinthine laws, able to use political subtleties and vaugaries to succeed in achieving their goals, as well as the ability to make absolutely convincing airtight arguments. Ravenclaws look down upon the Gryffindor motivation by passion and Hufflepuff motivation by morality and loyalty, as they interpret them as occasionally blinding to the objective truth, which is the compass by which they live. Their academic nature makes them generally detached and can make them appear cold and unfeeling. Ravenclaws are excellent analysts and very thorough in their approach. This makes them excellent strategists.


Ravenclaws’ devotion to logic and need for convincing explanation can make them appear cold and unfeeling, as they are seldom convinced by emotional appeals. Ravenclaws generally value intense mental stimulation over emotional passion, and are unlikely to take a mate outside of Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw house finds its enemy in Hufflepuff, and its greatest ally in Slytherin.



Famous Ravenclaws: St. Thomas Aquinas, Aristotle, Spock (Star Trek), Temperence “Bones” Brennen (Bones), Stephen Hawking




The House of Huffelpuff is typically defined by the characteristic of loyalty. Huffelpuffs are typically trusting in nature, unlike the suspicious Slytherin, and are more likely to follow the inclinations of their hearts than the cerebral Ravenclaws. Hufflepuffs are likable and fun, and make friends easily. These friendships are a matter of highest importance to a Hufflepuff, who would give their very lives with little thought for the welfare of a friend. The Huffelpuff loyalty extends to ideals as well as personal relationships, and Huffelpuffs are the most stubborn of all the houses; once their faith is placed in something, it is unshakeable. Hufflepuffs make the most dependable allies, as they are extremely unlikely to waver once their loyalty has been pledged. For this reason, however, and because they place such a high value on relationships, Hufflepuffs are slow to trust and open up, especially to members of other houses. They expect the same loyalty in return. A Hufflepuff is the least likely to cheat on a spouse, and almost always mates for life.


A Hufflepuff typically has low self-esteem, as their greatest strength is intangible rather than measurable; while Gryffindors excel in battle, Ravenclaws excel in academics, and Slytherins excel in politics, Hufflepuffs seldom receive awards for unflinching friendship, and their loyalty goes largely unnoticed. They are frequently self-sacrificing, and are willing almost thoughtlessly to put others best interest before their own, often at their own expense. The almost blind loyalty of a Hufflepuff is often a weakness as well as a strength, as it can result in a Hufflepuff being used.


Huffelpuffs are dedicated to hard work, whether in their relationships, or in their professions, and are likely to succeed from the sweat of their brows. Hufflepuffs can be classified as over-achievers, as they dedicate themselves tirelessly to whatever goal they desire. More than any other house, a Huffelpuff is likely to throw themselves behind a political agenda. Hufflepuff House finds its ally in Gryffindor, and its greatest enemy in Ravenclaw.



Famous Hufflepuffs: Ren Stevens (Even Stevens), Jesus, Ruth/Naomi, Samwise Gamgee (Lord of the Rings), Westley (The Princess Bride), Cordelia (King Lear)




Slytherin is associated with several negative connotations, but like the other three houses, Slytherins have both strong and weak characteristics. It is not true that you can’t trust a Slytherin – you can almost always trust a Slytherin – to do what’s best for himself. They are able to work in a team toward a common goal, as long as that goal is to their benefit as well. A Slytherin’s actions are seldom single-minded, and often have several motivations. Their strength is in their wit, and they are able to succeed by outwitting others. Slytherins consider every possibility and determine the best course of action based on all the options; this makes a Slythering an excellent strategist, like the Ravenclaw. Slytherins are also willing to get their hands dirty, doing the unpleasant work that no one else wants to do in order to achieve their goals. (In a somewhat silly example, in a zombie apocalypse, a Slytherin would be able to kill a friend turned into a zombie more readily than the other houses). Unlike the self-sacrificing Hufflepuff, a Slytherin is almost always motivated by personal gain. This extends to their political affiliations and friendships, as they will do most anything for the furthering of those.


Slytherins are thorough and meticulous, and despise laziness and cutting corners. Nothing is of greater importance to a Slytherin than achieving goals, and they will not bow to morality or ethics if it inhibits that ability. In personal relationships, a Slytherin’s loyalty is strong, but different from the Hufflepuff’s. Slytherins are dedicated to a friend’s best interest rather than the relationship itself. Unlike a Hufflepuff, a Slytherin is willing to make personal sacrifices if it is for the best; ie., a Slytherin will betray a friend’s trust if it is in that friend’s best interest to do so. Their problem solving method involves asking numerous questions, lulling the other party into a sense of security, and piecing together the answer one bit at a time, unlike the direct Gryffindor.


Unlike the brash Gryffindor, who will attempt to get his way through brute strength, Slytherins are deeply analytical and achieve their goals primarily through analysis and manipulation. They excel in the political arena because of their determination to succeed despite the costs. Slytherin finds its enemy in Gryffindor, and its greatest ally in Ravenclaw.



Famous Slytherins: Atticus Finch (To Kill a Mockingbird), Machiavelli, Josiah Bartlet (The West Wing), James “Sawyer” Ford (LOST),

Before I start, I just want to say that this is a post I’ve been deliberating a lot on whether or not to publish. This is actually a really personal and important experience I’m about to relate, but my fear is not that I’ll be too open for my own comfort but that this post will come off as being preachy or pretentious. Isn’t that always the way it is with matters of spirituality? I want to share my excitement and my enthusiasm without coming off as braggadocios, preachy, judgmental, or pretentious. Just know that if this post does come off that way, then it’s because I failed at writing it correctly and not because that was my intention.

But I think I should start with a little bit of self-psychoanalysis (See, @theblackswan, we *can* psychoanalyze ourselves!). As previous posts have suggested, I believe, one of the most important things – and possibly THE most important thing – in my life is the people I care about. I have some truly wonderful friends who I’ve known for a very long time. Most of these people are more like siblings than unrelated friends. And there is nothing in the world more important or more enjoyable to me than spending time in their presence.

I wouldn’t say now that I’m particularly more dependant by nature than other people, though it’s always been a question I’ve struggled with. I’ve always valued independence and self-sufficiency, but I’ve always had a very acute need to be with/around the people I love. These two never seemed to jive, so my understanding of myself as a person has fluctuated from independent to dependent with some startling amount of frequency.

But I don’t think it’s necessarily dependence that drives my need to be with my loved ones. Instead, I think it’s something intrinsically more beautiful. The fact is that I find myself giving away pieces of my very heart to these people. Through the times we’ve shared and spent, the conversations we’ve had, and the love that’s grown between us, I discover that I have, intentionally or not, entrusted to these people a very important part of myself, and in return, these people have become a part of me. One good friend calls me “the parrot”, because I tend to pick up the mannerisms of the people I spend a lot of time with, but I think it’s less of a copycat situation and more of an instance of me allowing someone to enter my spirit. I don’t know if this makes any sense - I’m finding it difficult to put into words.

In any case, when I see these special people, it’s like I’m put back into contact with a piece of myself that has been missing, and it feels, in the most real way I have ever experienced, like coming home. Like puzzle pieces fitting back together, I find a relief, a comfort, and a deep satisfaction in being in the presence and company (literally or over the phone, via letters, etc.) of the guardians of these pieces of my heart. Nothing makes me happier or gives me a greater sense of contentment or joy.

Yesterday, I picked up my rosary for the first time in months and proceeded to pray the glorious mysteries. Always the multi-tasker, I did this while I was walking my dog Asher. It was a surprise to find myself experiencing the same feelings of comfort and contentment while praying to Christ, Prince of the Morning, and His dear Mother that I feel in the tangible presence of the previously mentioned friends and family members. Happiness washed over me, and I felt peace. I felt whole. It felt like coming home again.

To most of you, this is probably no great surprise. It seems obvious to even the most basically religious-minded person that the heart’s home rests in Christ, and while I’ve always technically known this theory, of course, yesterday was genuinely my first experience like this. It was a beautiful and enlightening one.

I believe that Christ sent the wonderful, special people with whom I share my heart into my life as a way to show me some of the intricacies and grandeur of the relationship I intrinsically share with Him as His beloved. I can’t say with any amount of certainty or honesty that “my whole heart belongs to Christ” or “He is my everything”. As much as I wish those things were true, they aren’t – not now, at least. But He did take the opportunity yesterday to teach me something important: that my home is Him, just as much as it is my brothers and sisters, and someday, with grace, it will be more so.

I have a confession:

I am a Belieber.

I know, I know. I hang my head in shame. I myself have tried ceaselessly to deny it, but I cannot ignore it anymore. The facts speak for themselves. I have been struck by the Bieber Fever.

I submit in defense of this statement three articles of evidence:

Exhibit A: Last week’s episode of Glee. It was masterfully done AND they rocked the Biebs’ music in a way that made me actually listen to it. I had spent so much time and energy avoiding the Biebs on principle that I never actually gave him a chance. And I learned, last week, that his music is pretty much everything I like in a song: light, fluffy, catchy, and irrelevant.

Exhibit B: Despite what you may think, I learned that Justin Bieber is an incredibly courageous kid. He spoke out against abortion in a recent Rolling Stones interview, even in cases of rape. (cf. http://www.newsmax.com/Hirsen/justin-bieber-rolling-stone/2011/02/21/id/386850)

Despite the fact that this was a grossly inappropriate question to ask a little teen starlet, Justin Bieber was strong enough to take a stand even though he surely knew it would be an unpopular one. You don’t have to respect him for his music (and, really, I don’t), but you do have to respect a kid with so much gumption.

Exhibit C: I had a dream about him last night.

Let me explain. My dreams are always really vivid, and really, really interesting. I love sleeping because I love the stories my subconscious creates in my dreams. It’s almost like there’s actually another whole world that I live in, with consistent characters and everything. For example, I have a group of regular dream friends who are NOT people I know in real life. It’s always kind of fun to visit them.

Well, anyway, last night I was hanging out with my dream friends when we stumbled across Justin Bieber – frightened, battered, beaten, and on the run from someone or someones who was/were hunting him down. We took Justin into our protection, tended to his wounds, and assisted him in fleeing from his pursuers and ultimately, taking them down.

That’s right. I rescued Justin Bieber.

Now I know this isn’t your typical tweeny-bopper Justin Bieber wet dream we’re talking about, as mine involved guns and multiple lacerations as well as an explosive gang fight, but the fact of the matter remains. I had a dream about the Biebs.

This last exhibit puts it beyond question. I love Justin Bieber. And I am ashamed.

This week has been a pretty brutal beatdown, all things considered. Without getting into too many details, these last few days have left me pretty much totally drained. I keep waiting for a break to come, but it never does – literally every day brings some new difficulty for either myself or one of my dear friends. One thing after another. It’s been relentless.

Throughout all this I’ve really fallen off the fitness horse. You might recall how gung-ho I’ve been about it from some not-so-distant posts. And after a lot of hard work, I’ve finally been making progress. I lost about 15 pounds, put on some muscle, and was generally feeling good about how I looked. Granted, I’ve never been totally satisfied, but I at least felt satisfied to be on the right track.

Recently, though, it’s been a huge struggle to stay on the ball. I cheat more and more often on my diet, and I put off working out until it’s too late in the night for me to do it. This has only been going on for about a week, so I know I haven’t done like irreparable damage or anything, but I’m still just kind of disgusted with myself for losing sight of the prize. I have to redouble my efforts and throw myself back into my fitness regiment, between working out or running every single day and following my diet really strictly. I know it doesn’t make me feel better or happier to break either one of those – my workout regime or my diet. Really, it just makes me feel like crap, and pretty immediately.

I’m hoping this revelation today helps to get me back in gear. I’ve made the following rules concerning dieting that I’m hoping to stick to:

1) I’ll eat eggs, turkey bacon/sausage, or a smoothie for breakfast. Period. Eggs are preferable, but if I don’t have time to cook them, one of the other options will have to do.

2) If I forget to bring my lunch, I’ll have a smoothie and some ostrich jerky from Smoothie King. Both of these are pleasant enough to not feel like a punishment, but lunch is the great killer for me – I just forget to bring lunch and then go off my diet when I eat out. It was so bad today – I actually bought and ate chocolate. I felt like crap afterward. If I have this rule, hopefully it’ll be easier to stick to it. No options – I bring something diet-friendly from home, or I have a smoothie/jerky. No margin of error. Done.

3) At home, I will eat dinner all at once. Usually, I just kind of snack for about an hour, eating a tablespoon of peanut butter here, a cup of beans there. From now on, I’ll decide when I’m eating, sit down, and eat right then and there. I’ll eat until I’m full, but it’s going on my own, premeditated terms, not subject to a moment’s will.

4) Late in the evening, I’ll have another smoothie – preferably muscle milk after I work out, but regardless of what kind, that’ll be my 4th meal. I’ll consume that at least an hour before I go to sleep.

I’ll let you guys know how it goes. Hopefully this will help respark my motivation and make me feel good about myself again.

And to all of you guys who’ve been beaten down along with me this week, stay strong. I’m proud of you all.

It is said that clothes make the man. While that’s not strictly true, I do think that the kind of clothes you wear says a lot about the person in them. I’ve had a weird relationship with clothing and fashion. While I love the idea of dressing sharply all the time, I’m usually seduced by the comfort of casual clothes, and end of rocking jeans and t-shirts, polos, or flannel most of the time.

This has all changed, and it’s all thanks to my obsession with TV on DVD.

Let me back up.

If you have met me, you know that I love TV on DVD. I love vegging out in front of the TV for a while. It’s my catharsis. And regular TV is awkward because you’re forced to watch what they show you, and if it’s a serial TV show, you’re forced to watch it one episode per week, which is frustrating and obnoxious. Alternatively, I could put in a movie, but I usually find movies too long to just pop in and veg out to, and I’m rarely in the mood to get all invested in a long story. This makes TV on DVD perfect for me, as I get to consume 42-minute bites of whatever show I’m interested in, and I can watch as few or as many episodes as I want, and even if I fall asleep watching it, I only have to rewatch about 20 minutes to get back into the story for the episode. I’ve blown through a lot of TV shows on DVD – The Office, Lost, Arrested Development, The West Wing, Gilmore Girls, Buffy – to name a few. But after my most recent journey through Arrested Development, I found myself Jonesing for some more TV on DVD.

Fast forward to the weekend, when my puppy Asher jumped up onto our kitchen counter and knocked over the new Merlot my dad had just bought from Sam’s (we’re classy). This scenario found me driving to Sam’s to replace the spilled wine, and while I was there, I decided to check the electronics section, just to see if anything caught my eye.

Something did.

Gossip Girl.

I saw the first and second seasons on sale for 15 bucks a piece, which is a huge steal in TV on DVD land, and I decided to give it a try. I have no qualms with indulging in stereotypically girly shows, as I usually find them more clever and engrossing than their male-focused counterparts (I’m looking at you, Jackass).

It took about 15 minutes before I was totally hooked.

This post isn’t about Gossip Girl – maybe I’ll write about why the show rocks so hard another time. This post is about one character in Gossip Girl. The Sultan of Style. The Ambassador of Attitude. The King of the Cravat. The President of the Pastels.


He is Chuck Bass. And while he’s a 100% jerk, he knows how to rock a wardrobe. He fearlessly matches clashing patterns and colors and pulls it off like a pro. I mean, check it out:





I’ve fallen so in love with Chuck Bass’s sense of style, and I’m out to create my own Chuck Bass-inspired wardrobe. I’m having a lot of fun with it, and I’m super excited. Gone are the days of wearing my CTK hoodie to the office. Bring out the bow ties, boys.




I recently read The Host written by Stephanie Meyer, more widely known for the annoyingly popular (and annoyingly addictive) Twilight Saga. I’m not a huge fan of Meyer’s writing style, but the standalone novel came highly recommended, and with the qualification that it was not at all like Twilight. After hearing good reviews of the book from several people, I decided to give it a try. I picked it up the other day and I thought I would give you guys a heads up.



The Host is a futuristic “apocalyptic” novel working off the premise that an invasion of aliens (who somewhat inexplicably call themselves “Souls”) has resulted in the virtual decimation of the human race – except not really. The souls are centipede-esque parasitic creatures that survive by inserting themselves into the brain of a host creature – in this case, humans. The human in subsequently enslaved by the Soul until, little by little, the consciousness of the person fades away, replaced entirely by the Soul in a human suit. If this sounds familiar, it’s probably because you read Animorphs, and the concept is lifted pretty much right off the pages of that series.



I’m always a little ticked by a lack of creativity, but I actually really liked the concept in Animorphs, so I figured I would plow through here.



Anyway, there are, naturally, uninfested survivors living day by day, hiding from the Souls who would capture and infest them. One of them, a woman named Melanie, is caught and infested with a Soul called Wanderer.



Wanderer is sweet, kind, pacifistic, and extremely altruistic, and Melanie is strong enough that she utterly refuses to fade away, so we have an interesting dynamic. Eventually (by which I mean by page like 50), Wanderer is convinced by Melanie to go and find Melanie’s younger brother Jamie and the love of her life, Jared. What follows is an inspiring story of an outsider being accepted by a group of hostile humans and facing a fierce internal struggle between loyalty to her old people and her new people.



Or something like that.



The Good – Meyer’s writing is typically enthralling. I blew through this book pretty quickly, and enjoyed reading it. Her characters are sympathetic if not as realistic as I usually prefer, so you do get caught up in their lives. Her male characters are strong and masculine, which is a nice change from Edward, who might as well go shopping at Victoria’s Secret for a pair of panties to match Bella’s. This is primarily a love story, but there are enough action sequences to keep us guys interested, so props to Meyer for that. I was so engrossed in the story that I actually *had* to cheat and look up the ending – something I’ve never done for a book – but more on that later.



The Bad – Meyer suffers from the same affliction she does in the Twilight books – she’s just not a very talented writer. She touted this book as her big novel for Adults, in direct contrast with the twilight series. This is clearly misleading, as her prose totters around on unsteady legs, no more complex or insightful than the perennial classic Hop on Pop. Furthermore, everything is just too simplistic. Her characters face difficult decisions but they approach them without one iota of complex thought. What you see is what you get here, which makes this good popcorn material but not much else.



The Ugly – Here’s where the nitty gritty comes in. I think this book is ultimately a failure. Meyer brings up an important philosophical debate here and takes an extremely backwards position on it. The entire book – all nearly 700 pages of it – is a chronicle of how Wanderer wins the love of the humans, and, by extension, the reader. She is sweet, sincere, kind, brave, and she is well-loved. The problem? She’s still enslaving a human being. I find it utterly unbelievable that the majority of the human characters – including Melanie’s lover and brother – would even remotely consider choosing for Wanderer to stay in Melanie’s body. Regardless of how wonderful Wanderer is, the fact remains that she had imprisoned a human and stolen her dignity and her freedom in order to experience human life herself. This is something that is so intrinsically unacceptable, ethically speaking, that I couldn’t get around it and let myself like Wanderer. Every time Meyer tried to make me, I just remembered that all of Wanderer’s wonderfulness was at the blatant expense of the human prisoner she kept locked up in her own mind.



SPOILER ALERT!!!!



I had to find out the end of the book before I got there because the idea of Wanderer staying in Melanie’s body until the end infuriated me so utterly that I flat-out refused to read the book if I found out it ended that way. You’ve probably guessed that it doesn’t, as I did read the entire book, but there are still a lot of surprises in store.



END SPOILER!!!!!



Anyway, all that having been said, The Host makes for interesting if not an enlightening read, and I recommend it for a good rainy day.



Final Verdict: 2.5 body-snatching slugs out of 5

When I sit down at my desk, and tune out the noise around me, and focus on the blank lines in front of me, I forget, for that time, that someone will read this letter that I write, seeing and understanding these words that I have written about myself. I’m normally a very reserved person – superficially outgoing, but very hesitant to reveal the person inside of me. And while I’m not writing about any deep or intimate secrets in these letters, I am writing about me. Writing about things that every single person who would read this blog would know, but it feels, unexplainably, intimate, because I am not talking to someone, not looking in someone else’s eyes, not able to gauge when I’ve gone too far, when it’s all become too much, when I need to sit back and stop talking, change the subject, protect myself. I just let myself go, let my pen fill the empty pages with words about my life, my hopes, my complaints. The things that I love and the things in which I find comfort. I let the ink flow like my thoughts, and it’s strange. It’s like looking at a mirror and knowing someone else, someone invisible, is looking at your reflection, too. This is probably the most accurate analogy I can make about the experience. It’s like standing in front of a mirror, clothed, normal, perhaps in the moment before you walk out the door, when it’s just you and your reflection. You evaluate yourself. Notice things that are unusual – perhaps there’s a cowlick, or a button that is undone – things you correct and move on with, never give it a second thought. That moment is very private, and it would be very unnerving to know that someone else is seeing that, seeing that moment of our reflection.

Then, after the letter is finished, signed, sealed, addressed, stamped, I leave to mail it away. And then, standing before the mailbox, I remember – truly remember, in my heart, that someone else WILL read these words, and suddenly it’s like standing before not a simple mailbox but a precipice, surrounded by clouds, far from the ground, my heart pounding and my stomach tight. When I drop this letter in the mailbox, it will be decided. Someone will read these secrets that are not secrets, know these common, ordinary truths about me, and I have to either back away from the edge and retreat to safety amd write a new letter filled with light words, airy words, nothing words – or jump.

Inspired by the courage and honesty of one of my great friends, I’m going to write a post that’s very personal too. This is something that I consider to be one of my greatest personal challenges to overcome, one of my most grievous flaws.

I am an incredibly difficult judge of character. I am extraordinarily critical of everyone I meet. One of my most difficult challenges is to meet someone and accept that they have flaws, are human, and overcome it and like them anyway. Instead, I meet someone, find a flaw, and associate that flaw with that person. This one is irresponsible. That one’s too haughty and self-important. This one thinks he knows everything. That one is too immature. The list goes on and on. It’s not that I can’t see the good in people, it’s that I see the bad and that almost always outweighs the good to me. And I stamp these people with these judgments, and I dismiss them because of them. I think this is a defense mechanism from when I was younger – I had a lot of trouble making friends and finding people who enjoyed me and my company, and in response I looked for and found shortcomings in the people who rejected me. These situations were very frequent, and I think it became less responsive and more impulsive. I just do it now, with everyone.

I do it still with those by whom I feel rejected. I remember vividly one particular person from school, with whom I truly wanted to be friends. When this person rejected me, I turned around and was immediately able to identify and target his shortcomings, and I used those to villainize (spell check tells me this is not right, but I can’t find the right spelling for it) him to myself and, I’m ashamed to say, to others as well. I know how hypocritical this is, as I am sure that I carry a distinguished number of flaws myself (though I say truthfully but with shame that I am mostly unable to see them).

Rarely, I meet people for whom I can either find no flaws or are willing to overlook the flaws. These people I consider my friends. But they actually have it worse than anyone else.

With few exceptions, I hold my friends to impossibly high standards. To clarify, this means that I hold expect them to “perform” as friends at a level that is actually impossible for a rational human being. I wish this were a joke, but it’s not. I expect them to be there for me, always, with a near superhuman capacity, ready at any moment to answer the phone or respond to a text should a situation arise in which I need a friend. I expect them to keep plans regardless of any new development, however pressing that development is. I expect them to put me first, which is the worst of it. It’s absurd, I know, and when I stop to think of it, I realize my expectations are irrational. Venomously, though, I become impulsively upset at the slightest breech of my friendship code, and while I quickly identify that this irrationality has occurred and work to assuage my emotions, it bothers me to no end that this happens. I’ll be the first to admit that there are certain undefined guidelines that good friends should follow, but those guidelines are broad and reasonable, unlike my imaginary Robert’s Rules of Order for Friendship.

The good news is that these hurt feelings almost never linger for more than like an hour at the most before I realize I’m being a huge idiot. Most of the time I can just work through it and forget about it and no one is any the wiser. Occasionally I am a TREMENDOUS idiot and blow up about it to the person before I realize how wrong I am, and by then I’m afraid I’ve already wounded a perfectly good friendship.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, and I’m really working to overcome it. I say the words “I don’t really like (insert random acquaintance’s name here)” WAY too much of the time, and I spend too much of my time being angry at the people I care about, too.

If you’re reading this, chances are you’re a friend and you’ve been the brunt of this before. If so, I’m very sorry. Please accept my apology. And know that I’m working on making sure we can have a smooth, drama free friendship. It’s going to take a lot of work and a lot of prayer, but I’m on my way.

Stay strong, guys.

Kori