The meaning of love ... sort of

The rant inappropriately named the meaning of love
By: Doctor Orange aka Trappedorange aka Lunde aka the guy who wrote this

Hello there! Or if you don’t speak English: ¡Hola! However if you speak neither English nor Spanish then you’re out of luck because the only other language I know is Kilngon and I’m using my friend’s computer to type this and it doesn’t have the right font. … Um … but anyways, Hi! I would like to say (before I say anything else that I haven’t already previously stated as of now) that I am a rather new (perhaps new isn’t accurate … perhaps inexperienced is better) Mibba user and if this blog doesn’t actually classify as an blog at all then I will be happy to remove it if and shortly after being notified. Anyways (again) on to what this is actually about:
Actually no, I should warn you first. If you’ve ever met me in person than the first thing you probably realized is that I’m human. This probably didn’t strike you as being too odd or out of the ordinary and so you probably didn’t spend much time on that realization. The second thing you probably realized is that I have most (not all) of the characteristics of a human; two eyes, two ears, and a mouth to name a few. This, also, probably wasn’t that interesting and therefore probably wasn’t labeled as very important. However, if you’ve ever met me in person then somewhere down the line of realizations about me that you probably had was probably the realization that I particularly enjoy rambling on and digressing. You probably also eventually realized that I enjoy trying to be amusing and/or funny, even though in reality I typically am not. If you haven’t ever met me in person then please keep these two qualities of mine in mind when you are reading this because I tend to digress frequently (as I realize I am actually doing now) and often times tend to lose people as to what I actually mean merely by the way I phrase things. If you have already met me in person then you (probably) assumed this was the way in which I was going to communicate and are already perfectly prepared for it. … That, or I’ve already lost you, in which case contact me and I’ll rant on for approximately thirty minutes on why an apple is different from an orange and me knowing that fact alone proves that I’m perfectly not crazy.
Anyways (a third time) on to what this is actually about: I am only 16. Still I believe I have had a lot of experiences in life. A lot comparing to the number of three; if you were to compare me to someone older, say a forty-two year old, then you would find that I (relatively) have had very little life experiences. Never-the-less, I firmly believe I have had more than three. A lot of these experiences have had to do with feelings that I often wonder if I’m alone in feeling. For example (and I had this just yesterday) the idea that you’re actually quite skilled (perhaps even unordinarally skilled) at doing a very specific thing. This can be for example, bouncing a pencil off the wall so that it always lands in the same spot, or being able to lob the tv remote safely to your friend using only your foot, or in my case my uncanny ability to fling off my shoes when I don’t want to remove them by hand, and always have them land in nearly the exact same spot, within three inches of each other, and always sole up. At first this feeling strikes you as cool! “Not very many people can do that! … Probably” You begin to think. You start to get a tad excited. Well … as excited as knowing you can fling off your shoes when you don’t want to remove them by hand, and always have them land in nearly the exact same spot, within three inches of each other, and always sole up can make you. None-the-less, you begin to get a tad excited … for some people it’s only a smidge excited. However, then the common sense of the event kicks in, and you begin to realize that the particular trait that you are extremely skilled at is of no use to anyone other than that specific thing it is and therefore has virtually no worth to anyone in life what-so-ever. This feeling of disappointment begins to replace the previous one, and re-arranges your thoughts of trying out to become a professional shoe flinger, or showing your friends, or doing anything else that you would think is cool but would most likely be seen as others as a waste of time. But that’s just one example. I keep having all of these particular feelings and recently I’ve been wondering if there’s a name for them. After all, if I had to break the previous example into two separate parts the first would be surprise or excitement, and then the next would be disappointment. However, I very much recognize the difference between feeling those feelings in the previously explained circumstance, and feeling them in any other circumstance what-so-ever. I also very much recognize that the difference is amazingly large. Thus, I rather think that there should be a specific word made up for it, and for a number of other feelings as well.
So, if you’ve read this far, then congratulations! I dare you to read all the way to the end of this blog-slash-rant-slash-thingy. If you haven’t read up to this point, then I feel as though you’ve already broken the lines of communication, and that me typing this is probably mostly useless because the chances that you’ll even see it are probably very slim. Either way, my name is still Lunde, and I’m still going to continue ranting … er … typing; same thing really. This is basically describing my various random feelings and wondering if there are indeed words for them. If you can think of a word (when it comes to naming things or people I have a horrible habit of not being able to) for them then please I beg you comment on this blog and leave both the feeling (you can summarize it if you so wish) and your designated designation for it. If you can’t think of a word for them then feel free to comment about whatever you like, including your disarray about why the sky is suddenly blaze orange even though two seconds ago it was a perfectly pitch black night sky … er … something of that sort would be okay too.
So I’ve already stated the feeling you get after discovering you have a pointless skill, on to the other feelings. One of the feelings I’m feeling right now (well, not right as you read this but right at the moment this was typed, which (who knows?) could be several hundred years ago) is that feeling of dread that you get upon returning to writing something that you had been writing previously, but for some irrelevant reason (whether an important and valid one or not) had to leave. Actually the feeling of dread comes in when you realize that your train of thought has been completely derailed and subsequently destroyed by whatever the intrusion was, and that you’ll have to forge an entirely new train, which will most likely take you in a largely (if not entirely) new direction than you were originally going. My intrusion today was breakfast, which I would be tempted to curse into oblivion if I wasn’t so madly in love with it. Another very specific feeling I’ve felt upon numerous occasions (one I feel, and fear may be unique to teenage males) is the increasingly overbearing and amazingly strong desire or perhaps even urge to run directly at a wall and then at the last second do a back flip off of it and subsequently land on your feet. I obtain this urge at the strangest of times, and I always find it to be rather inconvenient because the only time I’ve ever successfully done a back flip without sustaining injury to my person is on a trampoline. Either way, the increasingly overbearing and amazingly strong desire or perhaps even urge is common enough in my life that I think there should be a name for it that isn’t as many syllables as “the increasingly overbearing and amazingly strong desire or perhaps even urge.”
Another feeling that I have felt on occasion, and that drives me into extreme frustration when I discover my siblings are experiencing it, is the feeling you get when you see or hear or read or find something that you consider to be rather neat, and that you yourself would like to create. For example, seeing a show on YouTube that you find to be rather funny and thinking you could do something rather funny and similar, but not so similar that you could be put in jail for copyright infringement. This particular feeling is actually what has driven me to write this blog, but for reasons I will not explain, I will not go into further detail. Rest assured however, that this blog is nothing like the one behind the feeling that has driven me to write this blog. Another feeling is the inability to sleep because you have a million exciting ideas floating or perhaps sprinting (assuming you consider dreams to have legs) through your mind and your afraid that if you do wander into sleep then these ideas will be forever lost. Or perhaps you’re merely too distracted to think about sleep, which is equally as bad and sleep-depriving. I had this last night while I was conceiving this blog in my brain. I actually tend to have this feeling most nights before I write things. I’ve only found one solution to it. A good friend and I were hanging out one night (for the non-traditional sleep over) and I was having the most recently previously described feeling. My friend then decided to chain me to my bed. I couldn’t move at all. We then watched a movie, fell asleep in different places in the room, and the next day she left. She walked out the door, leaving me chained to my bed. Well … okay. Chained is an exaggeration. I don’t have chains on my bed due to the fact that I’m not interested in gothic culture. In fact, I’m so uninterested in gothic culture to realize that chains may not even be a part of their culture and that everything I’m saying in these few sentences may be horriblely incorrect. However, while I’m not at all interested in gothic culture, I am in the boy scouts. Additionally, while we don’t use many chains, we do use a lot of rope. So, my friend (who shall remain unnamed for her privacy) tied me to my bed that night. Now! Don’t get the wrong idea. Yes, I am a teenage male that was once tied to a bed by a teenage female, however I am about as innocent as people come as anyone who knows me in person will tell you. I haven’t done anything (okay, fine. I’ve filled my lungs with air, I’ve opened my eyes, and I may have even walked out the front door once, but you know what I mean.) that would constitute me as being un-innocent. When I say we watched a movie, then fell asleep, then said goodbye, I mean that that’s all we did. In my additional defense, she slept across the room from me. None-the-less, she did teach me that being tied to a bed is an excellent way to force one to go to sleep, since at that point there’s not much else to do.
Another feeling I often get is one that bothers me immensely, and bothers me often. It’s the feeling you get when you make a connection that was extremely obvious, but which you never noticed before because you never bothered to think about it. Hopefully you know what I mean, as I’m too embarrassed to give any examples, but you begin to think “Huh. I never thought of it that way before. … I wonder if anyone else has thought of that. … … … Actually, I doubt they haven’t …” It’s rather demoralizing, and happens to me frequently enough that I think there should be a word for it. I also often have the moment or feeling where I can’t think of a word or something to say merely because I’ve been asked to provide one. I know that I would be perfectly able to think of at least five words or other things to say in any other circumstance, but because I’ve been put on the spot (so to speak) my brain simply decides not to provide my tongue with any of the necessary words. I know that I’m not alone in this, because I’ve seen it happen to my friends numerous times. What? Oh, you want an example? Okay, well … um … there was one time where … um … er … hmmm … well for whatever reason I can’t think of an example right now, but you’ve probably experienced it yourself.
Two more (and the last two of which I will type in this blog-slash-rant-slash-thingy) feelings I often get are perhaps my most dreaded ones. The first would be that feeling you get when you’re walking home from a friends house (or any destination really) late at night. As you walk, you begin to get the slight feeling that you’re being followed or watched. It’s not too bad and you just ignore it. That is until you reach your driveway and are only about thirty meters from the door, which is when the feeling magnifies itself by twenty with every step, until you’re running for the door at which point you reach it, throw it open, step through the entry way, and then spin around to realize that there isn’t in fact anything following you and that the mere notion of there being something following you is silly, and that you probably looked increasingly stupid sprinting to your door in a state of clear panic. This happens to me at least once every other day, and yet there isn’t a word for it. Another feeling I often get is the huge urge to run at and wrap in a huge hug a specific person every time I see her, and then spend the rest of the time I have with her talking to specifically her more than anyone else. However, because of the social protocol and my personal social ties to that person, doing so would be considered socially awkward and would most likely not end up well for me. Therefore I’m forced to use a great deal of effort in making sure both my conversation and eye contact is at least relatively shared somewhat equally between everyone involved in the group and not just directed at the one person who every time I see her I think hug.
So yes, these are just a few of the various feelings that I often get that often leave me troubled or embarrassed, that I often wonder if anyone else ever feels, and that I often wonder why there isn’t a specific word for them as it would make them much easier to communicate to normal people rather than typing a four page paper about it. Either way, if you’ve read to this point, then congratulations and I must say I’m impressed. You’ve actually lasted through my entire ramble and have managed to read this sentence. That alone is a feat. If you haven’t made it this far, then you won’t read this sentence, which is okay too. In any case I feel it’s time to say goodbye for now, and so I will. However before I do, I’m going to say two more things. One, it seriously bothers me when an blog has no ties what-so-ever to its name, and I know you probably know what I mean. However if you don’t know what I mean I named this blog as such so you could share the feeling. You’re welcome. Secondly, I’m going to flip the order of the last two sentences in this blog because if I didn’t then the second to last sentence (which will become the last sentence) wouldn’t make any sense at all and would be inherently false. If this confuses you in any way, stare at the last two sentences for a little while, and hopefully you can sort things out for yourself. Also, just to keep you informed, I’m not counting the quotes at the end as part of the paragraph, and so they are not in any way shape or form connected with the last two sentences of this blog. Anyways, until next time! This is the last sentence of this blog not counting the quotes to follow.

The quotes to follow:
“I once asked Jesus: ‘How much do you love me?’ He replied ‘This much.’ And he stretched out his arms … and died.” ~~~~Unknown. I hope you’ve enjoyed this blog and the last few weeks of your life, God bless you and have a good next few weeks of your life.
“I’ve always thought that if a man wants a banana, he should get himself a banana. And if he doesn’t have the means to get himself a banana, then someone should be kind enough to give him a banana. And if no one is kind enough or willing to give him a banana, then a banana should just wander towards him via magical means. And if a banana isn’t willing to wander towards him through some form of magical means, then a banana should just wander towards him through some means that don’t use magic. And if a banana isn’t willing to wander towards him using non-magical means, then perhaps that man should re-think his wanting of bananas.” A quote said by Dr. Orange (Aka Lunde, aka me) while he was rather hyper and saying rather silly and irrelevant sayings
“I’ve always found it strange that the so called Dr. Orange is obsessed with bananas, rather than oranges.” One of my friends commenting on my obsession with bananas.