I’m here at the University of Houston’s Satellite Center, eating a Chick-fil-a, and I started thinking about the qualities of a gentleman. The other day, I stumbled upon a quote by Winston Churchill, “Courage is rightly esteemed the first of human qualities… because it is the quality which guarantees all others.”

I really have to agree with Churchill. It takes courage to execute all other virtues. I made a list of nine traits a real man (or woman) should have:

Courage

Honesty

Integrity

Compassion

Kindness

Fortitude

Imagination

Loyalty

Assertiveness

A man must have the courage to defend his loved ones and to make sacrifices. A man must have honesty to earn people’s trust. A man must have integrity, consistency of actions and morals. A man must have compassion and feel the sorrows of others. A man must show kindness and help others in need. A man must have fortitude to withstand the harsh trials of life. A man must have imagination to achieve dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before. A man must have loyalty to his wife, family, and country. Finally, a man must be assertive- not let anyone walk all over him and to stand up for the ones who do not have the courage to defend themselves.

A man with these characteristics is the embodiment of a true gentleman. So, where do I stand? It would be very arrogant and egotistic of me to say I have all those virtues. All I can say is that I try to be the best I can, but I will always have flaws like anyone else. The only way you can tell is by knowing me I guess. There are other virtues one can think of, which virtues do you like in a person?

How foolish I am. It makes me so sad, so inevitably mad, at what the anonymous poet scribed:

“The hardest thing to do is watch the one you love, love someone else.”

He is talking to me, describing me, informing me of how it is. Has he no heart? Though he is right, he has no right to remind me of my plight, especially tonight while I lay on my bed with no light. What the poet said, it rouses me from bed. I stand and look out the window. Slowly, I feel the heart being invaded by darkness. The mind tells the heart not to lose control, but my heart is stubborn, very stubborn. The heart cares not what the mind thinks. Emotions invade it, but it isn’t really an invasion, the heart welcomes the dark emotions, emotions I usually keep in check, and in a few moments, a flood of darkness envelops me.

I hate. I wish ill. I envy. I feel jealousy. I loathe the world. I care for nothing. And when the heart has had its fill, the dark emotions can no longer come inside it, the heart is full. Seeing the heart a bit more calm, the mind speaks to it:

“Are you satisfied? You are selfish and reckless, and imbue darkness in our soul.” The heart replies, “Talk not to me about such things. It is your fault I am the way I am. If you were to do your job right, there would be no need of that. You simply produce no effect. You have me starved, and I have to feed on something. Men much better than you will always outshine you and the women you like will always prefer them. What? You look like you are going to cry…”

The minds then counters, “You say you when it is actually us. While it is true that I may have starved you, just know that it is not over. I don’t cry. Those women have made their choice. Live with it. Now, let us ascend and show them what they left behind. When you reach your peak, they will be demoralized. Come, we have work to do.”

My greatest strength is my heart. It is ironic that it not only is the site of my greatest strength but also of my greatest weakness. It is this weakness that brings out the worst in me. Yet, even this weakness can be of positive use, it motivates me to become a better person.

[I had nothing interesting to write, so I wrote this. Cicero once said: Even if you have nothing to write, write and say-so]

Ode to My Woman

Day and Night I think of you,
I know not why I think of you.
Could it be your mind?
Or your beauty that my heart it grinds?
I succumb to you, woman of virtue.
The world can go to hell
Because all I want is to hear you whisper…
No! Don’t whisper! Rather, tell and yell
How I, the pauper, won your precious heart,
Something Picasso himself could never put into art.

I love you woman. Oh, beautiful woman.
You are my equal, you are my light,
You are brighter than the Big Bang,
And something about us just feels right,
I knew since the first time the phone rang.
Our lives have intertwined; do not fear
Your feelings or my touch; our love is a spear.
With it, we will fight the ruggedness of life.
I am here to protect you from any strife,
Like a Roman would; you are my woman and I am your man.