Mr. Brightside

This woman is happy eating salad

People always say “look on the bright side.” It’s a phrase meant to force you to only seeing the positives in situation. Unless you’re sitting in the dark, in which case it’s cruel and obnoxious. There is no bright side in a dark room.

My friend Paul is one of these people. He even shoves it down your throat on Twitter:

One of the few things in this world that can't be recycled is wasted time. Make sure to treasure each moment and progress daily.

—
Paul King (@pking2011) May 24, 2012

Disgusting, I know.

I am a deeply cynical person. Whenever something comes up, I question it. I question people’s motives. I question situations. Why? Is it some journalist holdover? No, probably not – I just don’t trust everything on the surface of a situation.

So in an attempt to better myself as a human being – and dramatically cut down on my street fighting career – I have decided to see the positives in life. No, this doesn’t mean I’m going to start wearing pastels and tell you all how brilliant you are. You’re not, so don’t kid yourself. Neither is your child.

There are few things that naturally get me to smile. Sure, friends and family occasionally crack this cruel, dark and cynical heart. But there are some things that get me to open up and completely lose it.

Animals (except ferrets)

Remove the unexceptional kids and that’s my Heaven.

Why animals? Because I’ve never seen a dog Hitler, that’s why. People are manipulative. Animals are pretty open about what they want, and the meager expectations they have of you are rewarded by a lifetime of bonding.

Videos of mascots falling down

West Virginia University is in such a priveleged position. Its mascot doesn’t feature a grown man or woman in an elaborate costume that effectively hides the person inside. Those that do, however, are susceptible to ridiculous antics and nothing makes me laugh harder and lose my proverbial business more than seeing a giant mouse throw cheese into a spectator and falling down. Within an instant, their dignity, their life, becomes hell. Glorious.

Oh, sure, I get pleasure out of friends and family. But nothing quite like those two. I’m probably oversimplifying it, but I don’t owe you anything, so back off.

The Human Condition

I lack basic survival skills.

After a freak, barely 20 minute storm caused more than 600,000 West Virginians to lose power and nearly 3 million in the surrounding areas, I realized just how worthless I would be in a nomadic society.

This realization happens every single time the power goes out and yet I’ve done nothing to change it. I rely heavily on the assumption the power will be restored within hours, blissfully whittling down the remaining percentages of my electronic devices. Not knowing the severity of the storm, I proceeded to have a breakdown publicly on Twitter, filling everyone’s feeds with trivial complaints about “crap, I didn’t charge my laptop in time.”

Foolish me.

Unlike most without power in the area, mine was on relatively quick. Sure, a branch had snapped and with it taken an entire power line. But I still had some luxuries: Water flowed, a slight breeze took the edge off an otherwise muggy and miserable day and most importantly, I didn’t have to panic buy any toilet paper.

However, had it not been for my roommate and his gas grill, I’m pretty sure I would have died of malnutrition. Not a completely forward thinking individual, I always assume something will be open, somewhere, should any power goes out. I have been corralled into the order of convenience and put into a state of uselessness once my modern day conveniences are shuttered.

Think Bear Grylls, but not quite as willing to drink my own urine at the first sign of a slight thirst.

I don’t know how to build a fire. I don’t know how to kill and skin an animal. Being able to dress myself is often always a challenge – why doesn’t grey go with khaki? They’re so inoffensive. Black shoes with brown pants – why not?

Friends debated – without a sense of irony – on Facebook about the human condition and the conveniences we develop have ruined us. Poppycock. We as a species evolved to a point where we could stay put, exactly where we were, with apparatus and technology that allowed us to live in something of comfort. Why should I have to rub two sticks together to heat a Lean Cuisine? I am no barbarian.

The two biggest exports of a power storm are often panic and pointless thought. Without things to distract us, we panic and pontificate. There are moments of genuine good – when communities rally, neighbors extend their luxuries and reporters retweet any and all information about the storm, shelters and more (I didn’t read a single news website during the outage).

Panic spurs desperation, like panic buying gas and stocking up on water. No amount of panic, however, should cause people to steal generators from utilities, hospitals or groups trying to help.

Has man really become spoiled, though? Am I a worthless human being, letting down thousands of years of human evolution? No, I assert – I live in an age where Kroger’s 85/15 beef is more than acceptable for a meal for myself, I don’t need to hunt a wild boar for sustenance. I don’t need to learn smoke signals because – when the power’s flowing, and AT&T haven’t had their latest breakdown, I have an iPhone.

But, should the inevitable happen and society crumbles at the next outage, look for me in a torn Doctor Who shirt begging for scraps.

The Derp Knight Rises

Eight years ago, when Sen. John Kerry was a thing and everything was easily blamed on George W. Bush’s colloquial presidency, a naive young college freshman entered the fray of college and political discourse at West Virginia University.

He had no prior professional writing experience nor any worldly experience on which to draw from. He couldn’t even vote if he wanted to (being 18 and a foreigner, and all). Still, that didn’t stop him. He wrote masterful prose about the world, the human condition and why “Arrested Development” should go on for another 10 seasons for all its 10 Nielsen-family fans to enjoy.

Eight years later, he returns – writing in third person as if some kind of wunderkind. Oh, sure, he’s got like, 600 Twitter followers and a few West Virginia Press Association awards. Oh sure, he has a smartphone.

But that isn’t why you should return everyday. No – it is the staggering brilliant insight missing from the Internet all this time. He returns deeply embittered, incredibly more cynical and even more assured “The Simpsons” should have ended in 2001 after so many glorious seasons.

Enjoy these words – nay, cherish them.

If Don Surber can do it, so I can!

Spurred on by my favorite bow-tie wearing pundit (I also have a favorite bow-tie wearing Doctor), I have decided to return to blogging.

CUE THE CELEBRATIONS!