Post by Bambi on Apr 18, 2009 10:43:19 GMT -8
Although I agree with Rudyard Kipling’s famous poem “If”, one of the many aspects he does not touch upon is the thing men are often judged by, their emotions.
Do real men cry? Some would say that to weep would be to show weakness but not in all instances. Yes, cry when it is called for, throw your hands if you must, but keep a level head. Would I bawl like a baby if I were being threatened or in danger? Of course not. I, like most of my contemporaries would use bluff and bravado even if inside we were a quivering wreck. But if I were alone and nursing a broken heart or overwhelmed with a sense of loss, I’m not afraid to admit that I would shed several tears before finding my resolve. Does this make me any less a man? I do not believe so.
It’s all about a healthy balance in the mind and body. It’s well known that pent up sorrow can erupt as a violently as a volcano. Some people will vent this hurt as self abuse, others will take it out on those around them either physically or mentally. Should we shun such people? I guess that is up to the individual. Those who wallow in self pity eventually drag down the people around them and I for one do not want that to happen to me. Harsh? Maybe but self preservation is my God given right.
I was recently called “emo” simply for stating my feelings about a subject. Now, I may be dead and I may be a vampire, but unlike some I am not an emotionless zombie who merely shuffles from food source to food source. I don’t exhibit any typical emo tendencies as far as I am aware. I have yet to cut myself, walk around sucking on an oversized pacifier, or declare my unlife over because my parents don’t understand me. But if saying when something annoys me, if expressing an opinion based on emotion rather than fact and if daring to be honest about something makes me emo, perhaps it also makes me less of a man.
So are real men capable of expressing their emotions or should they be strong and cold no matter what? Should they know when to back down and admit they are wrong or would a real man keep on attacking until he has either won or driven everyone away?
Do real men cry?
Do real men cry? Some would say that to weep would be to show weakness but not in all instances. Yes, cry when it is called for, throw your hands if you must, but keep a level head. Would I bawl like a baby if I were being threatened or in danger? Of course not. I, like most of my contemporaries would use bluff and bravado even if inside we were a quivering wreck. But if I were alone and nursing a broken heart or overwhelmed with a sense of loss, I’m not afraid to admit that I would shed several tears before finding my resolve. Does this make me any less a man? I do not believe so.
It’s all about a healthy balance in the mind and body. It’s well known that pent up sorrow can erupt as a violently as a volcano. Some people will vent this hurt as self abuse, others will take it out on those around them either physically or mentally. Should we shun such people? I guess that is up to the individual. Those who wallow in self pity eventually drag down the people around them and I for one do not want that to happen to me. Harsh? Maybe but self preservation is my God given right.
I was recently called “emo” simply for stating my feelings about a subject. Now, I may be dead and I may be a vampire, but unlike some I am not an emotionless zombie who merely shuffles from food source to food source. I don’t exhibit any typical emo tendencies as far as I am aware. I have yet to cut myself, walk around sucking on an oversized pacifier, or declare my unlife over because my parents don’t understand me. But if saying when something annoys me, if expressing an opinion based on emotion rather than fact and if daring to be honest about something makes me emo, perhaps it also makes me less of a man.
So are real men capable of expressing their emotions or should they be strong and cold no matter what? Should they know when to back down and admit they are wrong or would a real man keep on attacking until he has either won or driven everyone away?
Do real men cry?
If
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream -- and not make dreams your master;
If you can think -- and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings -- nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Man, my son!
-- Rudyard Kipling
[/center]If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream -- and not make dreams your master;
If you can think -- and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings -- nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Man, my son!
-- Rudyard Kipling