I as Double Dutch

Today, I heard a close friend say I'm bipolar. Upon hearing the statement, I had no definite response. I couldn't refute or all the more support it. But if anything, take note that this post is purely out of my utter conversational narcissism. Still reading? No? How 'bout now? Well, you were warned.

"Napaka-bipolar mo. ([Dave,] you are so bipolar)." in verbatim--sent me down a spiral of trying to see beneath who's looking back in the mirror. First realization was, I was indeed after all self-conscious. So I guess I could throw the Dave so confident he's brain dead self-view out the van window. What makes me seem bipolar? Is it me walking around in lavish clothes yet spending like a cheapskate? Is it the me who sits sheepishly in church yet is somewhat a sex symbol (literally), in the secular world? Maybe it's the me who smiles and jives with people I barely know, but gets soggy dramatic in my blogs and poems. See a quality emerging here? If Paradox walked around in high spirits and unkept hair its name would be Dave.

Looking back at the minutes my girlfriend and I ate pizza in an ice cream shop today, and again looking back at my superhuman, ego-boosting ability to relate things completely foreign to one another, I began correlating (a remnant of the horror Statistics brought upon me last night), people to pizza. I am composed of different pieces and layers that make my flavor, appearance and quality different than yours. But where's the fun in knowing how much salt, pepperoni, or cheese is in me? Should I alter my ingredients to suit someone else's taste? Should I conform after some standard? (A good example being: A real man treats his girl like a queen.) I think not. Good gracious! Pardon me if how I treat my girl isn't a mixture of raging hormones and teenage feminist propagandas. 

Bottom line--my friend's statement was positive criticism. Unlike pizza, I am not a chorus of tang, zing, sweetener and dairy. In a given situation, I'm a stanza of simple components--mallows, cocoa and frozen cream--all neutral flavors, producing one concentrated quality. I put out one pure, simple aura, yet am made up of ingredients that paradox each other. Maybe I come on too strong on one flavor and too weak in another, making my friend only taste one at a time and one at another time. That's it. Bipolarity.

Humanity is the superior of all creatures on (and under) the face the Earth. With systems more complicated in detail than a Windows 98 crash report, it's only cliche that we have a hard time understanding ourselves. So if personality does affect where you end up in life, next time you go to a fortune-teller or a know-it-all friend who claims a good perspective of where you'll be in the next 5 years, surprise them with a question: "What do you see strong in yourself that reflects what's strong in me?" Flavors only jive with another they're in harmony with. So, if he or she senses something about you, you must have some kind of similarity, right? You'll have a chance to turn away from what he/she is going to say, plus you'll sound convolutedly philosophical. Win-win!