Getting serious...

I had a nice conversation with a friend in 770 on Friday night, and he mentioned that more people would read this little blog of mine if I were to include pictures. I asked him if he was planning on sponsoring a digital camera. That got him, but I did promise to try and post a picture for all of you people's to look at. It is, as you may have guessed, a Purim picture. I don't normally dress like that. Nor am I normally that drunk. But it was fun. As is this cute little article from the Jerusalem Post. Oh yeah, and before I forget, let me just say Mazel Tov to Shneur Pruss whose Kiddush I attended today in 770 and who wondered if he'd make it on to TRS. Rest assured Schneur, you got my back, I got yours.

Meanwhile, on with the show. I promised someone that I'd write a nice character-driven (not like Joshua) story tonight, while to another someone I promised a mushy, self-introspective, angst-ridden post that would reveal my inner essence, lay bare my soul, make all you men out there vomit in disgust. So what's a guy to do? Could I kill two birds with one stone, and write an auto-biographical story, character-driven of course, which would also do all the other things I mentioned? I suppose I can try... Still, it'll be a pain. You see, too many people who know me would start asking questions or making references. I'm not interested in that. So here's the deal I'll make with y'all: If you're related to me then you can't ask questions. If I only know you a little then ask away. Fair?

This is the story of a boy named TRS. He hated thinking about serious things. To put it a different away, he hated thinking about things that required serious thought. Sometimes he'd blog for a couple hours, and G-d would, for reasons known only to him, cause all of TRS' hard work to go down the drain. TRS didn't like this of course, but he didn't let it stop him.
So what's up with serious and not serious? When did TRS decided to become the joker? He doesn't know. He isn't particularly interested in finding out. After all, the past is nothing, it's dead and done for, what good will come of dredging it up and peering at the little things that caused the big problems? Still, because TRS promised, he will look back and try to determine from whence his disease derived. When Pirkei Avos says that one shouldn't sit in the company of leitzim, it's generally translated as "scoffers", but I think it's more like cynics. What is a cynic? The question is half the answer, and cynic is defined as
1. a person who believes that only selfishness motivates human actions and who disbelieves in or minimizes selfless acts or disinterested points of view.
2. (initial capital letter) one of a sect of Greek philosophers, 4th century b.c., who advocated the doctrines that virtue is the only good, that the essence of virtue is self-control, and that surrender to any external influence is beneath human dignity.

Basically, it originally meant one thing, but no one knew what that was, so they used it inappropriately and now it means whatever it is that people want it to mean. Regardless, whatever it is that cynic means, G-d doesn't want you to be one. In fact, he doesn't even want you to sit among them. When people are sitting there "blessing" G-d, he wants you to pick yourself up and get the heck out of there. He'd prefer if you'd preach to 'em, or at the very least to douse them all with gasoline and send them the way of the South Vietnamese monks, but leaving is an option for the weak of heart and mind.

So there you have Mr. TRS, the cynic himself, the guy who takes nothing as he should, him who laughs at the most sacred and divine, not to mention the serious, and he has to examine his past and figure out what it was that went wrong. He thinks about it for a little while, ponders the question, but he can't come up with anything intelligent to write. Maybe it's just genetics. That would be a convenient cop out. But no, his whole life he's been copping out, maybe just once he can tackle the challenge head on instead of dodging it the way a punter runs for the bench whenever a return man gets within ten yards of him.

And please, don't say that TRS is being harsh on himself. No one knows TRS better than himself. Of course, he's also blinded by self love, but that seems to be a common condition. So again the question is, what happened? What turned that sweet, trusting little boy into the raving lunatic who stays up 'till 5:00 (and beyond!) writing nonsense?
I don't know. Sorry.
Sometimes when TRS is at a farbrengen and taking things seriously he thinks about all this. TRS doesn't like to think seriously because he doesn't like the facial expression involved. When he graduated from kindergarten he received the "Mr. Smiles" award. He had wanted to get the "Mr. Architect" award because he was the big man on campus when it came to building vast cathedrals out of blocks during nap time, but some undeserving little something or there got it instead. But maybe TRS' teachers were right. If there's one thing of which he can be proud, it's his smile.
Which is exactly why he doesn't like being serious. Being serious wipes away the smile. Please, don't comment "lav davka" because by TRS it is davka. Don't go 'round distributing Tzvi Freeman or Yossi Jacobson articles which say that true joy comes from taking life seriously, or some such nonsense. Yes, it may be true, but it doesn't put a smile on your face. You want to smile, you can't take yourself or other people too seriously. The New York Times never smiles because it takes itself too seriously. The Rake too, even though you'd think it would know better.
Before this descends into a typical youth vs. world revolutionary rant let me remind you that this is TRS on serious. He isn't normally this full of himself, but when pressed to, he can do it with the best of them. Sure, it might take him seven hours, banging out a few words here and a few words there, but it gets done eventually. TRS not on serious makes fun of youth vs. world, which is merely another variant of youth vs. world, al derech the rye catcher. However you want to go about it, it's pretty hard to transcend stereotypes. Oscar Wilde may have done it, but since then? Whether you're with them or against them, writing vaguely so that no one has any idea what you're talking about or in excruciating detail so that they don't care what you're talking about, or even if you're hungry and regret throwing out the chili a couple of hours ago, there just doesn't seem to be much you can do to escape the fates.
The spirit catches you, but it doesn't bring you down. Spirits aren't that classless, they're much worse: they make you into one of them. When the spirit grabs hold it transforms you, and there you are, all spiritual yourself. What's a serious guy to do?
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There, you people liked that? Has anyone vomited yet? Make sure to do it in the toilet so as not to inconvenience Rabbis who rejoice in the name of Mottel. I hope I satisfied your desire for existentially angsty shtuff, even if I didn't quite manage to turn it into a story. Next time give me something better to write about, and before you can say "Peter" there you'll be.