Harry Potter

I'm not exactly sure if this post has a "point," or any particularly good reason for you to read it, but it's important to me and important to anyone who wants to follow my about-to-be-super-famous career. 

When I was in middle school, my grandmother (on my father's side) gave me the first Harry Potter book as a birthday present.  My father was born and raised in North Conway, New Hampshire, where the Lucy family still reigns supreme, so I did not see her very often; and I've always been quite shy, even around my family, so I never really knew her well at all.  At the time the Harry Potter book seemed to be the worst present ever: clearly, I thought, she didn't know me well at all, either--I hated reading!  And the cover, never mind the title--Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone, ha!--made the book seem far more silly than I already thought all books were.  I forget who exactly induced me to read the friggin book.  Might have been my own tortured soul.  All I know is that some vague fear that my grandmother might ask me about it was the only reason I picked it up.  I figured that my grandmother wouldn't have read such a silly book, but I couldn't take that chance. 

Almost as soon as I grudgingly began reading I was hooked.  Well, honestly, I probably wasn't hooked, per se, until after the second book, but I at least now thought that reading the second book wouldn't be such a terrible thing. 

I read those first two books rather slowly but rapturously.  Once I was done with the second Harry Potter book I decided that Hermione was my favorite character (which is more true now that she was played by Emma Watson, ooo la la) and Ravenclaw was the house I'd want to be in if I were a young student-wizard.  Once I was done with the second Harry Potter book, my reading list expanded, and I began reading more quickly.  The fifth, sixth, and seventh books were all read in a day; and I started reading Terry Pratchett because the fantasy world of Discworld seemed similar enough to Hogwarts to interest me, then I was reading a bunch of comic fantasy, then I was reading Hawthorne and loving him because of all the fantastic stuff in his writing, and then I was off and running.  Since then my reading has been hopelessly expansive.

That I am now a writer, or trying to be one, must be traced through my reading back to Harry Potter.  Only by reading voluminously did I think that writing is something I'd like to do and learn how to do so.  Indeed, my world became so defined by what I read that I couldn't imagine doing anything but writing so that others may read too.  What a trip, eh?  From Harry Potter to determined writer.

I guess what I want to say here is that all people should think well on how they lift up, encourage, raise, and interact with others, especially the younger folk, and live accordingly.  After my grandmother's passing I learned a lot about her that I didn't know before, which wasn't hard considering how little I knew of her to begin with, mainly how devoted she was to teaching and inspiring others to use their minds and imaginations.  For the past few years I've also been raiding her great library.  Her spirit lives on in motivating me to write.  Her life lives on in motivating me to write.  If it weren't for her, I'd have graduated with a bachelor's in mathematics and still be crunching numbers.  I'm great at math, but boy do I hate it.  If it weren't for my grandmother, who seemed to not care that reading didn't interest me, I'd be miserably living a life that quite simply does not suit me.

Whatever greatness I may achieve through my writing must be attributed only partly to my own mind and writing skills and mostly to my grandmother.  Indeed, any great person lives in the wake of someone who cared enough to pave a way for them.  Thus, you, my reader, should take care which paths you are paving for others to follow.

Lance Armstrong

Though I am well aware that not everyone cares for professional cycling as I do, nor is everyone as much of a sports fan in general as I am, I would still be surprised if you haven't heard in the past week that Lance Armstrong has decided to stop fighting accusations leveled against him by the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency (USADA).  This is big news, mostly because everyone seems to assume that Lance's decision amounts to an admission of guilt.  Here's a funny story: a commentator on ESPN, when asked what he would do in Lance's position if he were innocent, said that he too would give up because fighting accusations constantly must be a weight on a person's soul; but then, two seconds later, he said that he thinks Lance is admitting guilt.  What?  How does that make sense?

My problem with the whole situation is how insistent people seem to be, Americans especially, to bring down greatness.  The international cycling organization has long since dropped their charges against Lance, have supported him when he sued USADA earlier, and question USADA's claim that Lance's "giving in" means that he should be stripped of his Tour de France titles.  Plus, USADA clearly does not have jurisdiction.  All of the evidence against him comes from witnesses and not physical evidence; most of these witnesses themselves have been caught cheating.  How do you redeem a broken career?  Bring down someone else's; be jealous; proclaim that everyone was cheating so you aren't such a bad guy after all.  Never mind any of this.  These people are still trustworthy enough to taint Lance's career.  Besides, no one can believe that Lance could have dominated the sport when so many other cyclists were doping. 

Why can't we believe that?  Why has USADA worked so hard to destroy Lance's reputation despite years of accusations by many organizations and never any proof against him?  Why are people so insistent to believe that Lance's giving up fighting means that he's guilty?  Can't a guy just not want to fight anymore such a silly accusation that he knows isn't true that only burdens him spiritually by fighting?  For goodness sakes.

I believe in Lance Armstrong.  That's not the point for this blog.  Here I simply want to question our attitude toward greatness as a society.  I often hear that people hate the Patriots, my beloved team, precisely because they are and have been so good (despite being in the most equal professional league out there); people hated Tiger Woods even before the infamous incident and news because he dominated everything; the Yankees are a famous example of receiving hatred for being great.  Granted, the Yankees are slightly different because until recently they have obliterated all other teams with high salaries.  Still, these are just a few examples, and believe me this trend is not only limited to sports, of how we intensely dislike/hate anyone and anything that might come close to being defined as pure greatness.  Perhaps I could go so far as to say that we dislike anyone and anything that is better than we are.  This really bothers the crap out of me.

I hate the Yankees as much as the next person, but I'm a Red Sox fan so I have good reason.  Outside of the Yankees, I try very hard to fight my inclination to wish bad things to the favorite, to the always winner.  Greatness is worth sitting in awe of.  Greatness is worth enjoying for exemplifying the potential of the human body or human mind.  Greatness is worth loving for showing us what we can do when we commit ourselves.  Not all of us are endowed with the same potential, but we are all human and therefore should share in the joy of one another's greatness rather than seeking to destroy it.

For me, examples of greatness drive me.  I want to join the company of other greats.  I am wowed by greatness and can only hope that by working hard I will not disappoint.  Anyone who wants to succeed, I think, should share this sentiment.  Or, you can just remain average, settle into mediocrity and hate greatness because you are a boring pessimist, a loser by nature, and prefer the comfort of destroying rather than the responsibility of creating.  If many of us took the approach of mediocrity then our society, as Nietzsche and Kierkegaard both feared, will essentially grow into a pile of manure.

In the words of Project 86, "I'd rather die than follow mediocrity."