Hop's Thoughts

Still warm, but the winds are strong. Morning is dark and so are those whose moods change with the seasons. The incessant complaints about their chosen lives or vocations. The cat is too impatient to wait for the morning sun. I am too. We both sit, waiting to start what others put off. Snooze. Once, twice, usually three or four. This morning it was six. Then the rushed routine, her comments sucking the life out of the day. Kids eager for the light to come, so it can become dark again. This day is so important. A costume hides the disdain for kids. My smile changes, wanting nothing more than to see their alter egos. I think back to easier times. Krackle, Nestle Crunch, and Butterfingers. The World Series is over and now I must find another reason to escape this domicile. A conversation about D&D. Twenty-sided dice and then on to Carmine's/. An onlooker comments on what I pride myself on. Conversations with anyone, about anything. Not an expert on anything, but I guess I've e

I don't know when it started, but somewhere along the way, down this path called life, I started noticing people more. I guess it's when I became comfortable with my own flaws, as society sees them, I was able to spot tendencies, traits, and routines in others. In my opinion, routine is the root of all evil. It's the rote memory of our existence, lacking any emotion. Even when surrounded by or committing to doing what we love most, routine, can and will, suck every ounce of joy out the experience. This is not to say routine does not serve a purpose, simply to imply that when we do the things we love, even for the ones we love in a mechanical way, it takes the joy out of it. Think about our parents getting us ready for school. Out of love, the prepared our clothes, or breakfast, made sure our books and homework were in order, and that we were clean and presentable. They did this out of love and as we entered kindergarten their smiles sent us off with smiles of our own. As

My generation rails against millennials, pointing out all their shortcomings and lack of sense, seemingly unaware that we are the generation who had to be told not to eat lead paint and needed temperature warnings on fast food coffee. Working with kindergartners and first-graders warrants the wearing of a protective cup more than any football game I've ever played. If a guy bends over and his underwear is presented, it is reviled, often with racial prejudice. When a woman bends over and her underwear is presented, it's considered sexy. I will never feel more inferiors than when a white person tells a multilingual person to "learn the language." I somewhat hate the word trained, when speaking about pets, but it's interesting how humans defend their pets' inability to assimilate to different situations. This is one area, where I believe, it says so much more about the human than the animal. If you get the opportunity to read to a group of children, mak

Some of us old-timers call them chalkboards. Last night, during a discussion with an interesting younger man, it dawned on me that people my age, those whose childhood took place in the 1970s and whose high school years finished during the 1980s are the last of the generation whose lessons were given almost entirely using chalk and slate. At one point, the man (I refuse to call any adult, who acts like an adult, a kid), thought I meant am an overhead projector, until I explained the use of chalk. We then discussed literature, history, religion, sports, and the role and limits teachers have in today's educational system. I  could have written this morning about conversational adaptability, which I was very pleased to have found company who held this not-so-common trait, but the fact that a blackboard, the centerpiece of the classroom, seemed somewhat alien to him. While I know he was aware of what I spoke of, I assume we'll one day find an entire generation who the thought o

I just finished watching the 1983 version of The Ballad of Narayama. Aside from my immediate desire to find the 1958 film, I was blown away by this version's final third. While the film looks deeply at our creation of laws and the need or desire to break them, I found one of the strongest issues with the film to be about burden. While I do not know if this was intended or simply a sincere look at ancient Japanese culture, I felt it stood out and it affected me deeply. Living with people, who are not family, I've often listened to them speak about their burdens. The burden of work, school, family, and everyday life. I've often wondered how so many feel life itself, I mean the things we all face, is a burden. As an outsider, I'm allowed to look at the burden from a different perspective and without bias. I have come to realize, the burden many speak of is simply a matter of life conflicting with their leisure. Is this a burden? I don't know if I'm one to say, as

A canceled class. A later job start. A weather delay. Whatever it may be, there are those times, in all our lives, when we gain an hour of time in the morning. The go-to plan always seems to involve sleep. Whether attained or simply lounging in bed, many of us embrace the laziness the opportunity gives us and choose to do as little as possible, but is it the right choice. In an era when more time is wasted on social media, "gourmet" coffee lines, and water cooler gossip, it's hard to believe an hour of nothing is all that important. Also, whether we like to admit it or not, we are all slaves to some form of routine. The extra hour does nothing but throw off our schedules and create haste. We have become a society that uses words like busy or swamped to describe simple necessary tasks while creating this illusion that our days need to be extended for us to compete against the terror that is the average day. So why then do we choose lethargy during this additional ho

Ever since internet memes, motivational posters, social media, and misquoting became the norm, one familiar, cliched, and infuriatingly common concept is that people should be kind, because it takes nothing. Could anything be more incorrect? Being kind isn't a normal human response. Being kind means that one must choose another over themselves. That they must be devoid of judgment and prejudice. It means they must be compassionate, sympathetic, and when possible, empathetic.  How many people do you know that exhibit these features without effort?  Being kind, with how our world has created us, is work. Relationships, parenting, friendships, and simple bonds, long and short, with acquaintances, come from some form of trust, honesty, and understanding. Three feelings that take time. To form them with a stranger is a rarity.  This is not to say we should not all try to be kind, but it is very important to recognize that kindness is very often a difficult behavior, because o

With the exception of Swag, my cat, Whooza, my roommate's dog, and my roommate, the one being I spend the most time with each and every day, is my neighbor's dog Hamoot (possibly spelled Helmut). He is a big, beautiful German Shepherd, but most importantly, he's my friend. Like me, he is alone most of the day. Outside, with nature, and aside from the occasional car to bark at or the landlord's visit, he lives in solitude. Each morning, when he is out, rain or shine, I go visit him and we play fetch, tug-of-war, and on the nicer days, just sit. There are times, like those with my closest human friends, when words are not needed to connect. I knew when I was moving here, it would be temporary, but I had no idea I'd have such a connection. I adore him, and he seems to adore me. Recently, due to scheduling and his rare time inside, I went a day and a half without seeing him. When I returned home, he lept, barked, then cascaded me with licks, massive paws against my ches

Bragging is not confidence Self-praise is not confidence Belittling others is not confidence Comparing one's self to others is not confidence Believing you are indispensable is not confidence Having those around you value, appreciate, and depend on you, Even if they never ask you for anything Confidence is knowing this. Silently

Kids will ooh and they will aah, when they open their gifts. They will tell you they love it. They will make a promise to cherish it and protect it. They will take it with them, cuddle it in their sleep. They will grow tired of it and choose to play with the dirt or a pile of leaves. You'll replace it with the next "best" thing.  They will tell you they love it. They will make a promise to cherish it and protect it. They will take it with them, cuddle it in their sleep. They will grow tired of it and choose to play with the dirt or a pile of leaves. You'll repeat the process throughout the years or maybe you won't, They'll tell you their bored when they have everything to distract. You'll feel frustration, as will they. You'll say go play, which is what they want, But they don't have the right toy, their favorite toy, the best toy. You'll gaze at a room full of them, as will they. You'll remind them of all you've bought