JASON REYNOLDS

writin' and whatnot

Brilliant Friends

When you live somewhere like, say, Bermuda and are surrounded by rocky cliffs, and unbelievably clear-blue water, and a mosaic of houses making up a pastel landscape, you tend to forget all these beautiful things even exist. I mean, LIVING somewhere so picturesque, so post-cardy, becomes as a blah as living in a place like Kansas after a while once the everyday humdrum of life takes over. (What does this have to do with anything, you ask? Wait a second jerkface, I'm getting to the point. This is called metaphor.)

The same goes for friends and the brilliance they (may) possess.

Take a second and think about the people around you, the folks you call homies. Really think about them. I guarantee, that thing that would be illuminated to other people - strangers - about them, has become a dim simmer to you, due to the fact that your eyes have adjusted to their light, so to speak. And that's ok. Relationships should foster bonds, and you cant spend every waking moment praising your buddies, or even being flabergasted by every cool thing they do. That would be annoying, and you, in fact, would be more of a groupie than a friend.

But on the flipside, we can become so immune to the brilliance around us, that we forget about it totally, failing to acknowledge it at all, which then leads to us taking some people and their gifts for granted, and not optimizing on what the relationship really has to offer.

Like in Bermuda, when May 21st rolls around, no matter who you are, you go and jump in the crystal water. It's a tradition - almost like the country has a new found love for it's paradise-esque appearance, and are grateful to have such beauty, even if only thought of that one day.

For me, I'd like to make that acknowledgment a little more often. To my friends, and their unchangeable hearts, and their incomparable minds...thank you.

(If you just read this, and thought of your friends, and felt absolutely nothing, maybe it's time to reevaluate some things. Don't hang with lames. And that's not a metaphor.)