Which piece is my favorite?
Let us start with the king. The seat of power, and an object for all of his servants and inferiors to protect. He is guarded, loved, and protected. The King loves feeling at the center, warm and surrounded, keeping darkness and enemies at bay. I am not the King.
How about the Queen? The Queen is reckless, a player of the board, knowing and cunning but overall resistant and strong. Attack one flank and she guards the other. Everyone loves and admires her, but at the end of the day, if you look past her power, you find boldness and little else. I am not the Queen.
A pawn, then? A Pawn watches silently, more a listener than a speaker, willing to sacrifice himself or herself, an idealist, a compassionate soul who always has the interests of the greater good at heart. Pawns are oddly rare. I am not a Pawn.
A Rook, maybe? Bold and sturdy and an effective point in a any strategy. Wise, not cunning. Resourceful, not quick thinking. And often lost to traps and innovation: archaic and outdated as it is sturdy. No, not a Rook.
A Knight, perhaps? Outspoken and witty and artful, the knight catches his enemies by surprise, pinning them into position when they least expect it. They are knowledgeable. They are patient and knowing and they are ever aware of the battlefield, biding their time for the victory. No, not a Knight.
That leaves us with the Bishop. Who is the bishop? An underloved character, certainly. Strong in some areas but completely incapable in areas. And yet, completely able to make sound strikes out of nowhere, using all resources, making no hasty judgements yet quick of mind. I think that I am a Bishop.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
an anonymous letter to a person of confused relation
___________,
Let me start by saying that this is a recent development in the grand scheme of our acquaintanceship and an old development in the grand scheme of our... what, camaraderie? I like you. You are the first person in a long time that I've truly liked. Not for your eyes or your hair or your musculature or your voice or your height or your weight or your smell, not for pheromones; I like you, the person. I like the way you speak and the way you think as far as I can see into your mind. I like your ideas, your mannerisms, and your disposition. I like your niceness and kindness, your laughter and the way you truly exclude nobody. I like how reasonable you are, how you can agree to disagree, how you never get angry at a person for nothing. I like you as a person.
I'm not exactly sure when this started. I do know that in eighth grade, when I was having a lot of trouble making friends and I sort of just drifted along, you were a bright spot in my day. Not because we were best friends. But because you said hello to me after you knew my name and you smiled at me. At Castle smiles directed toward me were rare. It made me so happy, that you were such a happy person. I didn't have a crush on you in eighth grade, mind you. I just made a happy acknowledgment that someone cared enough to toss me a "hi" every now and then.
A really big part of me wants to send this letter to you anonymously and hope that you know who sent it... that I can show you my thoughts and you will recognize my writing style, my voice. I don't know. I think you'd feel complimented if I actually sent this to you. But it wouldn't affect your feelings towards me (such that I'm not aware of what they are in the least) because you aren't an emotional girl like I am.
I'm trying to make this as honest as possible. I hate strong words that sound cliched and... weird. Like the phrase "my heart broke" (totally irrelevant here, by the way; just an example). That is little more than a dramatic exaggeration. And yet there are few ways to say things without those ugly, overused words. For instance: every time you make the heart sign at me, I will admit it, my heart does a little skip and I grin from ear to ear and I do a heart sign back and I don't know why. I just want you to like me, maybe? Maybe you already do, even though it's pretty obvious you have... something with the girl who sits next to me. Maybe just a strong friendship. I don't know. I don't even know if you're single or taken. You do very little to hint at that. With another boy I had a mild crush on - a while ago, and not as... truthfully? It's hard to explain - I just waited and waited until I confirmed that he was going out with someone. (He was such a flirt, too. I hate when you let yourself be led on and then are surprised when it doesn't go anywhere.) I can't see that happening with you.
Are you going out with her? Maybe I'll just give a fuck, and ask. Maybe you will get the hint that I'm interested for a reason, even though I'll do my best to cover it up. You're intelligent like that.
I like that you're intelligent, too, and that you never play stupid, not even to make a point. I like that you express yourself in wonderful, productive ways. I like that you are kind of geeky without being nerdy. I like that we are so very similar. I like... I don't know. You. I like you, period.
And now I feel weird because I haven't said anything about you as a body and that's apparently what I'm supposed to talk about in weird anonymous love letters. I don't know. I like your hair and your height and your eyes and your... quirky? smile. I like your hands. And your nose. I'm an artist by nature; I notice weird things like the shape of people's noses. I have an appreciation for things that I'm not sure you would find complimentary because they're kind of weird. You don't go up to a person, or at least not a guy, and say, "Wow, I really like the shape of your lips!" (I do, by the way.) So understand when I don't say things like that with any passion because I don't consider them separately, I consider a body as a whole thing (it's been trained into me) and not only does talking about your body in general come on way too strong but it's not, for once, the reason I like you. (But there's your obligatory physical compliments. I'm done with that now.)
I have little else to say, except that I'm hopeful.
Sincerely and resignedly,
_____________
P.S. I know a "crush" is "serious" when I can't rationalize it away.
Let me start by saying that this is a recent development in the grand scheme of our acquaintanceship and an old development in the grand scheme of our... what, camaraderie? I like you. You are the first person in a long time that I've truly liked. Not for your eyes or your hair or your musculature or your voice or your height or your weight or your smell, not for pheromones; I like you, the person. I like the way you speak and the way you think as far as I can see into your mind. I like your ideas, your mannerisms, and your disposition. I like your niceness and kindness, your laughter and the way you truly exclude nobody. I like how reasonable you are, how you can agree to disagree, how you never get angry at a person for nothing. I like you as a person.
I'm not exactly sure when this started. I do know that in eighth grade, when I was having a lot of trouble making friends and I sort of just drifted along, you were a bright spot in my day. Not because we were best friends. But because you said hello to me after you knew my name and you smiled at me. At Castle smiles directed toward me were rare. It made me so happy, that you were such a happy person. I didn't have a crush on you in eighth grade, mind you. I just made a happy acknowledgment that someone cared enough to toss me a "hi" every now and then.
A really big part of me wants to send this letter to you anonymously and hope that you know who sent it... that I can show you my thoughts and you will recognize my writing style, my voice. I don't know. I think you'd feel complimented if I actually sent this to you. But it wouldn't affect your feelings towards me (such that I'm not aware of what they are in the least) because you aren't an emotional girl like I am.
I'm trying to make this as honest as possible. I hate strong words that sound cliched and... weird. Like the phrase "my heart broke" (totally irrelevant here, by the way; just an example). That is little more than a dramatic exaggeration. And yet there are few ways to say things without those ugly, overused words. For instance: every time you make the heart sign at me, I will admit it, my heart does a little skip and I grin from ear to ear and I do a heart sign back and I don't know why. I just want you to like me, maybe? Maybe you already do, even though it's pretty obvious you have... something with the girl who sits next to me. Maybe just a strong friendship. I don't know. I don't even know if you're single or taken. You do very little to hint at that. With another boy I had a mild crush on - a while ago, and not as... truthfully? It's hard to explain - I just waited and waited until I confirmed that he was going out with someone. (He was such a flirt, too. I hate when you let yourself be led on and then are surprised when it doesn't go anywhere.) I can't see that happening with you.
Are you going out with her? Maybe I'll just give a fuck, and ask. Maybe you will get the hint that I'm interested for a reason, even though I'll do my best to cover it up. You're intelligent like that.
I like that you're intelligent, too, and that you never play stupid, not even to make a point. I like that you express yourself in wonderful, productive ways. I like that you are kind of geeky without being nerdy. I like that we are so very similar. I like... I don't know. You. I like you, period.
And now I feel weird because I haven't said anything about you as a body and that's apparently what I'm supposed to talk about in weird anonymous love letters. I don't know. I like your hair and your height and your eyes and your... quirky? smile. I like your hands. And your nose. I'm an artist by nature; I notice weird things like the shape of people's noses. I have an appreciation for things that I'm not sure you would find complimentary because they're kind of weird. You don't go up to a person, or at least not a guy, and say, "Wow, I really like the shape of your lips!" (I do, by the way.) So understand when I don't say things like that with any passion because I don't consider them separately, I consider a body as a whole thing (it's been trained into me) and not only does talking about your body in general come on way too strong but it's not, for once, the reason I like you. (But there's your obligatory physical compliments. I'm done with that now.)
I have little else to say, except that I'm hopeful.
Sincerely and resignedly,
_____________
P.S. I know a "crush" is "serious" when I can't rationalize it away.
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