Fish, Goblins, and so forth

I've considered how different life would be as a fish in an aquarium.  Assuming I had the consciousness to consider such questions (and thought in English) would I wonder "why am I here?" or "is there a world outside of this one?" It's hard to say.  Maybe I'd be content with sucking at algae or mindlessly gulping down processed flakes from an unknown and unseen god.  I'd never have the joy of my wedding day, or the exhilaration of traveling to a new country, but then I'd also get to miss out on soul-crushing prom nights, or the sadness of a friend's miscarriage.  Ramen only seems like a terrible food when you eat it for weeks on end because you know about t-bone steaks and tiramisu.

If you had no options in life: no career paths, no vacations, no picking out new furniture, then maybe not having to worry about them would be a good thing.  My life would be reduced to eating (which I love already), playing tag, occasionally being bullied, and relieving myself wherever I saw fit.  The worst thing that would ever happen is getting scooped into a net and dumped into a new container every few months for cleaning.  To be fair, fish probably think they are going to die, like, FOR REAL, every time this happens, but it's never more then ten minutes until they're all perked up and swimming about joyously in an old cat-litter bucket.  What would life be like without the inane decisions of human life?  Without religion, without hope, but also without a care beyond your own existance?  It seems primal to those of us who have the more "refined" choices on our menu, but to them, life probably seems like a natural progression of eating, pooping, and sleeping.

Weirdly enough, I think I've just described the "dumb" races in high fantasy.  Goblins don't give a fig if you were once their friend.  If you're made of meat and dead, they're going to eat you.  Chances are you weren't even a friend.

However, Goblins ARE depicted as being capable of very basic religion, usually following some war god or otherwise barbaric overlord.  So maybe there still is goblin marriage and goblin families and goblin home decorating.  But nothing as sophisticated as human decor and architecture.  Is that racism speaking?  What if Mrs. Twacknsmack is very proud of her rabbitskin rug and the tidyness of her little goblin hut?

Maybe elves view humans the same way humans view goblins.  Elves think of us as similar, and yet (adorably) beneath their capabilities of art and politics.  Goblins don't even come to mind when they think of humanoid races (maybe like we think of monkeys?).  Any human that rises to their ranks has only done so because they were a cute pet, or necessary to some crazy prophecy.

Maybe THAT'S why elf/human relationships are so looked down upon by elves... Not only are they (usually) rejecting a long lifespan, but they're falling in love with a creature so basic, so unrefined compared to their society.  When Ymir runs off with Jimmy, it seems to the elves that she's been captured by some dirty hippie.

Do rich people think of me this way?
Am I this closed-minded to the poor?

On Hospitality

   I've always enjoyed playing hostess for my friends.  I love cooking for them, gathering mix and match pillows and blankets for the evening, and laying out towels for showers in the morning.  When we're gaming (see: Always) I make sure there is room on the table for the crackers and cheese, and fetch drinks and refills when it isn't my turn.  I take pride in ensuring that no one feels excluded, bored, or hungry.
   Yesterday I was reminded where I picked up my love of entertaining: my parents.  They have always enforced an open door policy, ensuring my friends had a place to go when things went wrong.  Dad has fixed one of my friend's cars when she was behind on rent and afraid of losing her only source of transportation.  Mom has reminded my friends time and again that they are welcome to come any time, even if my brothers and I are not around.  Regardless of the nights they kept them up, the extensive amounts of food they consumed, and the number of things they have broken, my parents have continued allowing them to come over, yell their lungs out, chow down... and fix the house they've all but destroyed (high school was a trying time for the walls and furniture in the basement).  Through them, I learned that hospitality means more than room and board.  It's an honest desire to reinforce assurance and well being.
  This morning, I woke up in my old room, husband sound asleep from coming to bed at four in the morning, and friends sprawled out on any available furniture.  Coming upstairs, I took inventory of everyone, making sure they had blankets to keep them warm, and cellphones near at hand.  Once they had all been seen to, I saw to my own needs and went to the kitchen scrounge up something to eat.  As I was taking stock of what was available for everyone's morning meal, I saw a plain brown box on the stove.  On it was a single piece of scotch tape (lock and key for the cats) and a short message, in my mother's even handwriting.
  "Breakfast :)"
   Even after returning from a late night concert, waking up at six to attend church this morning, and likely bidding the MtG crew upstairs a good night, she found time to spoil us all with doughnuts for breakfast.  It's good to know that after all these years, my parents are still able and willing to help me help others.  And when you spend so much time concerning yourself about the welfare of others, it's awesome to have someone to fall back on, with full confidence that they'll catch you.
  Mom, Dad, thanks for everything.  And today especially, thank you for your couches, refrigerators, showers, and sheets.  Some day, I'll pay you back in kind for these generosities but for now I'll keep it simple:  Thank you for your hospitality, and for always having my back.