Hulk

For as long as I can remember,

The Hulk

has been my favorite super hero.

Like... my garbage can is "Hulk"

.... I have a giant framed picture of him snarling....

....I have binders for school that are covered with his muscles...

I HAVE ACTION FIGURES!

(sorry for yelling)

Needless to say... I geek out a little bit whenever I see his face.

It always fascinates me what people decide to be

Obsessed over..

Infatuated with..

Passionate about;

So, I've decided to share a small portion of why the Hulk is my Favorite.

Let's start with who he is,

He isn't "The Hulk"

He's Bruce Banner.

Bruce is a fairly reserved physicist,

who can easily come off as cocky or arrogant

because of his emense understanding of his line of work,

but in reality he thinks little of himself,

and is in a fairly constant fear of forming close relationships

with anyone,

fearing that they may one day see his "dark side"

his "Hulk."
He thinks himself a problem,
Basically... He's got a lot of confidence, but no self esteem.

I love that "The Hulk"

is never fully defined in the "Hero" catagory.

I like that he,

in many nerdy books about comic books,

He is RARELY defined as a hero,

but he's never (least not that I've found) labeled fully as a villian.
He seems to fit in this odd section where
he's a good guy... but causes a lot of harm.
(which only reinforces Banner's self loathing when he "comes to")

But more than anything,

I've always loved the idea behind "The Hulk"

The idea that Bruce hates "The Hulk,"

and equally, "The Hulk" hates Bruce.

Bruce's constant struggle and fight to be rid himself of his
"monster"... his "Frankenstein" 
And "The Hulk's" equally powerful determination to
overpower his "weak side."

I love the passion in the story.
I love how everyone can relate to it,
how every person I've ever come in contact with,
everyone has a demon in them that they hate,
that they fight,
and they'll fight till they die.
How when this demon takes over...
it's almost life consuming,
How huge and powerful it seems to us.
How we all feel...
".....if people knew....."
How this demon doesn't make us bad.
 Just makes us Green.
and like Kermit said...
It's hard to be Green.

Eh Tu Brute?

Have you ever been taught something,

whether it be in school, or church, or your own research,

and you take away from this learning experience

some of the most powerful understandings of life,

in general or your own,

and this lesson had nothing to due with what you were actually being "taught?"

Example:

I was in my second semester of college.

My teacher brought in a Holocaust survivor

and essentially conducted a personal life history interview with her (the victim) in class.

The interviewee was a sweet old lady,

with a thick polish(?) accent.

She told little stories from various times of her life,

often about how her day dreams about dancing,

which was her life's passion,

kept her going throughout various hardships that she endured during the war.

I sat in awe while listening to her speak of her life,

how there was never traces of bitterness in her words that so vividly described various tortures.

Her words were very factual, and very realistic. 

Yet when she spoke of dancing,

her face would light up, and her voice became intertwined with a hopeful giggle. 

I remember thinking

"I love this class.

I love this teacher.

I love this little old lady.

I love that I'm understanding the lesson."

And I was understanding what was being taught.

I was going to be able to write a paper about this,

get an A, 

and move on to my next semester.

Just when I was feeling great about everything,

the little old lady said something that caught me off gaurd.

Not something that was worse than anything that she had said before;

This story actually seemed somewhat mild to the previous stories.

Yet... there was sadness in her voice now,

there was pain in her eyes,

and bitterness in her demeanor.

I quickly looked down at my notes 

to see if I had missed some great detail.

I hadn't...

The war had ended, 

the soldiers had come to save them, 

they were on a many day journey back to (insert rescue place)

during the nights, a few of the soldiers would rape her.

(rape wasn't a foreign thing to her life) 

She continued on with her story,

but I stopped listening.

 I couldn't get the look in her eyes, or the twinge in her voice out of my head 

when she talked about that part of her life. 

Finally she finished her story,

we all thanked her, 

and that sweet little old lady, 

crooked back, noby knees and all left. 

The class discussed her strength,

the pleasant air that surrounded her,

and the importance of passion in ones life

(hers being dance)

I stayed relatively quiet during the discussion.

 Continuing to replay that small portion of her story over and over.

As I walked out of the classroom, 

I turned to walk the long way out to my car.

I needed more time to think.

It was surprising to me how little time I actually needed

before I was sitting  on the steps in the school,

with tears streaming down my face.

The second I stopped thinking about her trials,

and began to think of my own,

how many of them I could speak factually of,

yet there were some that would always make my heart ache, 

I understood it. 

Finally.

These soldiers.. had promised to save her;

they promised happiness,

they promised freedom,

and they hurt her, just like everyone else.

Now.. I'm not sure if anyone is still reading 

because, lets be honest, this is really long;

and those of you who are still reading,

are you understanding?

Are you understanding the difference in the pain?

The distinction between pain caused by someone who only promised pain,

and the pain caused by someone who promised things in contrast of pain?

The contrast between Julius Cesar's conspirators

and his close friend Brutus.

 I recently have sat in my car

a few (many) times

remembering that sweet little old lady,

and empathizing with her 

(to a very small degree);

I sit there in my car

with those familiar hot tears staining my face 

and uttering

"you too?"

 

Eh Tu Brute?