I have been casually noticing lately how many of my “excitements”, as I call them, did not originate within myself.
Example: I got excited in fifth grade about anything to do with this one particular boy. We run into his mom in the library, I go talk with her, because it ties back to him times ten. That’s the excitement piece. Now, what were its origins? Why did I even care so much about things to do with this boy? Because my friend K liked this boy. She was excited about him and anything to do with him. I had joined in to support her in her endeavor and excitement. I was excited for her. Because she was going to be excited about something new, I was excited in anticipation of her excitement, of her would-be excitement. It’s much like when throwing a surprise party for a friend or family member – we are excited for the joy the other person (hopefully) will have. I was excited by anything to do with this boy, because I knew K would be excited about it. I didn’t like the boy as she did, but it didn’t look that way to the outside world.
I love Hello Kitty (キッチちゃん). Why did I learn to love it? Because my mom and my sister loved it and always showed it to me. I then would get excited for them every time I crossed Kitty-chan.
Pink flamingoes – my mom and my cousin.
Watches and knives – my brother.
There seem to be innumerable things in my life that excite me, but not for me. To an outsider, it seems I love the thing itself. When, really, I just love and care about a person who loves the thing.
That being said, is there anything I like, all on my own?
Perhaps language and grammar and math/physics are a few of mine. And volleyball. Haha. And dance and teaching… these are all things that originated within myself – I do not love them for someone else, but for themselves.
But I certainly still have what feels like boatloads of all the other things… I am looking into that for myself.
^Still takes effort