You Want a Monocle For That Blind Eye?

medium_4764186425I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how we only see what we want to see; how our own feelings about something or someone can skew a situation so that we lose sight of what’s real. It makes us behave in really terrible ways sometimes. We turn a blind eye to a person or a situation because we don’t want to believe we’ve made a poor judgment — of character or otherwise. We lash out at anyone who tries to get us to see the situation for what it is.

Reality can be a real bitch sometimes, and we resent anyone who bursts our bubbles by trying to make us see it.

What got me thinking about this was the suspects’ family’s reaction in the wake of the Boston Marathon bombings. As it became clear who the men were and the evidence began to mount against them, it seemed undeniable. They’d even told their hostage that they were responsible. They threw explosives at police officers.

The media, predictably, sought out any link they could find, asking friends and family members (or, in CNN’s case, the bombers’ mechanic) to share their thoughts and reactions. An uncle urged the remaining brother to turn himself in and ask for forgiveness. His response was passionate and it was clear that he didn’t doubt his nephews’ role in the events.

But the rest of the family, including an outspoken aunt and the parents, said, “No. They’ve been framed. They didn’t do this.”

It’s understandable that shock might settle in and you might not want or be able to believe it. But to declare vehemently that the government did this to frame your children just seems so outrageous. And insulting.

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Feeling Old Vs. Being Old

I have friends who think they’re old. These friends are mostly in the 26-30 age bracket, and in no way constitute as being such (unless you’re asking a nine year old), but it’s just what they think. I have never said that I’m old. I’m 27 and I don’t feel or look like I am.

There’s the adage “You’re only as old as you feel.” I don’t know if I believe that, either.

A friend of mine turned 23 on Friday, and we went out for her birthday to a local sports bar. After her mother, I was the oldest person there, and I found myself saying out loud that I felt old – something I don’t usually say. But I think there’s an important line to distinguish here: I FELT it. Sometimes I feel sick, but it doesn’t mean that I am. So saying that I’m as old as I feel makes absolutely no sense to me. My age would change constantly. I felt 27, but empirically, I was older than the rest of her friends there. Continue reading