Why do humans live in temperate climates? We are children of the sun...Humanity thrives on the warmth of the sun and we know it. We are warm blooded mammals. You can even see it in our mythology. And I don't mean our historic mythology, but our current. See Kill Bill Vol.2 for an explanation by Bill himself about how comic book heroes tell the underlying story of our humanity, and he also uses the archetypal character: Superman.
Bill uses Superman as an example of a critique on the human race because his alter ego is actually his meek human form and Superman is actually who he is. But my whole point is that Superman needs the yellow sun to survive. He literally thrives and derives all his superpowers from the rays of the sun. Our mythology even points to our reliance on the warmth of the sun, yet humanity lives in such frigid places. Yes, I'm bitter about it being cold...but not for much longer.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
A Rose is a Rose is a Rose
So many people are moved by smells, aromas, odors, fragrances. It is only human. But the odd thing about that and myself is that the scents that move me seem to be a bit different than others. Most people seem to be moved by the scent of flowers, the scent of fresh air, the scent of tea, the scent of trees, or the scent of perfume and cologne. I am generally not, especially the last one because there are only two options for cologne or perfume.
1. It is masking a body odor, for which it needs to be layered on to the point of singing my nostrils from 100 yards away.
2. It is masking a natural smell of a human being.
I have to say my sense of smell is pretty dulled by a chronic sinus infection and ridiculously small nasal channels. I say this because it means I generally don't smell things at all unless they are right under my nose.
That being said, the smells that generally move me fit into two distinct categories.
Women & Food
Food is on the list because it necessarily has to get close enough for me to smell it in order for me to eat it.
The other one is why perfume pisses me off so much. I am a fan of the way normal girls smell. Granted, there are always a few people that simply need to shower more often...but for the most part, normal girls' aromas are just interesting to me in their variety. Actually, they are collectively my favorite aroma. For me, they are also practically a Madeleine to Proust.
1. It is masking a body odor, for which it needs to be layered on to the point of singing my nostrils from 100 yards away.
2. It is masking a natural smell of a human being.
I have to say my sense of smell is pretty dulled by a chronic sinus infection and ridiculously small nasal channels. I say this because it means I generally don't smell things at all unless they are right under my nose.
That being said, the smells that generally move me fit into two distinct categories.
Women & Food
Food is on the list because it necessarily has to get close enough for me to smell it in order for me to eat it.
The other one is why perfume pisses me off so much. I am a fan of the way normal girls smell. Granted, there are always a few people that simply need to shower more often...but for the most part, normal girls' aromas are just interesting to me in their variety. Actually, they are collectively my favorite aroma. For me, they are also practically a Madeleine to Proust.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Playing GOD
My friend has an odd pet peeve. Whenever anyone comments on an odd event occurring by saying, "What are the odds of that happening?!" He says "1 to 1, obviously...because it just happened." This statement is eerily how I feel about free will and timescapes. Since time is essentially linear, only one thing can ever happen; what does. In this vein, I was thinking about the phrase "playing GOD" that always seems to crop up in political and social debates from time to time.
I guess it will be hard to take an objective stance since most atheists would label me religious and most religious people would label me atheist. But I just don't believe in the phrase at all. It means absolutely nothing to me. It is hollow. Especially the ideals it is supposed to defend and the rhetoric used behind it. My favorite is the abortion argument. People say abortions should never be performed because it is playing GOD. Whatever stand you take on abortion, I have to take issue with the logic of being against it for this particular reason. The reason I take issue with it is that they use revisionist history to prove it.
As in the classic: "What if Jesus had been aborted?" or for the secular: "What if Gandhi had been aborted?"
This kind of logic pisses me off. I usually think about some other slogans to point out this flawed logic. "What if Adolph Hitler had been aborted?" or for the non-western "What if Mao Zedong had been aborted?" It's just as plausible but on the other side of the logical fence they laid down.
My personal musing on this subject is also that abortion is just simply another event in life in the upper echelon scheme of things. Big picture-wise, it is on par with pre-meditated murder, getting a cup of coffee, breathing, going to work, embezzling 10,000,000 from a company, or conning someone out of their life savings. They are all things that happen. So if this revisionist history logic works, my slogan would simply be:
What if Joseph knocked on the wooden door to their hut because his friend had caught the biggest fish ever seen in Galilee while Gabriel was about to impregnate Mary with Jesus and she had never met Gabriel?
In this vein, NO ONE SHOULD EVER BE ALLOWED TO FISH! That would be playing GOD and therefore, would have led to the interference of Jesus being conceived!
I guess it will be hard to take an objective stance since most atheists would label me religious and most religious people would label me atheist. But I just don't believe in the phrase at all. It means absolutely nothing to me. It is hollow. Especially the ideals it is supposed to defend and the rhetoric used behind it. My favorite is the abortion argument. People say abortions should never be performed because it is playing GOD. Whatever stand you take on abortion, I have to take issue with the logic of being against it for this particular reason. The reason I take issue with it is that they use revisionist history to prove it.
As in the classic: "What if Jesus had been aborted?" or for the secular: "What if Gandhi had been aborted?"
This kind of logic pisses me off. I usually think about some other slogans to point out this flawed logic. "What if Adolph Hitler had been aborted?" or for the non-western "What if Mao Zedong had been aborted?" It's just as plausible but on the other side of the logical fence they laid down.
My personal musing on this subject is also that abortion is just simply another event in life in the upper echelon scheme of things. Big picture-wise, it is on par with pre-meditated murder, getting a cup of coffee, breathing, going to work, embezzling 10,000,000 from a company, or conning someone out of their life savings. They are all things that happen. So if this revisionist history logic works, my slogan would simply be:
What if Joseph knocked on the wooden door to their hut because his friend had caught the biggest fish ever seen in Galilee while Gabriel was about to impregnate Mary with Jesus and she had never met Gabriel?
In this vein, NO ONE SHOULD EVER BE ALLOWED TO FISH! That would be playing GOD and therefore, would have led to the interference of Jesus being conceived!
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
If You were a God, What Kind of God would you Be?
Would you be a Christian God and have multiple personalities? Would you need people to praise you and meddle in the affairs of mere earthlings? Would you screw with people under the guise of knowing what's best for them?
Would you be an Atheist God? Would you not believe in your own existence? Would you simply think you weren't a God even though you knew you existed yourself? Would you need objective proof for every thought you had?
Would you be a Jewish God? Would you be a burning bush?
Would be an Agnostic God? Would you question your own existence? Would you doubt things that may be true? Would you be malleable to the extent of never being able to make a firm decision?
Would you be a Greek God? Would you live on a mountain and play with humanity to teach them lessons? Would you be vulnerable to other Gods? Would you be mischievous and ignore ethics in order to do everything according to your own whims?
Would you be a Roman God? Would you take the history of some other Gods, change your name and masquerade it as your own idea?
Would you be a Hindu God? Would you have lots of arms and keep changing forms like a chameleon?
Would you be a Buddhist God? Would you be all about balance? Would you acknowledge the existence of other forces outside of yourself in an effort to gain ultimate knowledge and the balance of the universe? Would you willingly forego extremes?
Would you be a Taoist God? Would you be unconventional? Would you simply be an amorphous system of guidelines? Would you lay down power that you inherently had and not use it at all?
Would you be a Deist God? Would you make your universe and then just let it go without meddling any further in anything...simply watching your creation unfold without any further input? Would you be apathetic and lazy?
Would you be an Islamic God? Would you be bipolar and misunderstood? Would you preach peace and then watch half your followers blow people up for that peace?
Would you be a Shinto God? Would you connect to life through animals and natural forces?
Would you be Unitarian? Would you say that everyone is ok no matter what they believe, even if they didn't believe in you or believed that someone else was you?
Would you be Mormon? Would you deny yourself of so many things that you could experience simply because you can?
Would you be Wiccan? Would you fly around on a broomstick?
Would you be a Rastafarian? Would you smoke weed and be polygamous?
Would you be a Scientologist? Would you....Would you.....uhm....would you believe ridiculous crap?
What kind of God would you be?
Would you be an Atheist God? Would you not believe in your own existence? Would you simply think you weren't a God even though you knew you existed yourself? Would you need objective proof for every thought you had?
Would you be a Jewish God? Would you be a burning bush?
Would be an Agnostic God? Would you question your own existence? Would you doubt things that may be true? Would you be malleable to the extent of never being able to make a firm decision?
Would you be a Greek God? Would you live on a mountain and play with humanity to teach them lessons? Would you be vulnerable to other Gods? Would you be mischievous and ignore ethics in order to do everything according to your own whims?
Would you be a Roman God? Would you take the history of some other Gods, change your name and masquerade it as your own idea?
Would you be a Hindu God? Would you have lots of arms and keep changing forms like a chameleon?
Would you be a Buddhist God? Would you be all about balance? Would you acknowledge the existence of other forces outside of yourself in an effort to gain ultimate knowledge and the balance of the universe? Would you willingly forego extremes?
Would you be a Taoist God? Would you be unconventional? Would you simply be an amorphous system of guidelines? Would you lay down power that you inherently had and not use it at all?
Would you be a Deist God? Would you make your universe and then just let it go without meddling any further in anything...simply watching your creation unfold without any further input? Would you be apathetic and lazy?
Would you be an Islamic God? Would you be bipolar and misunderstood? Would you preach peace and then watch half your followers blow people up for that peace?
Would you be a Shinto God? Would you connect to life through animals and natural forces?
Would you be Unitarian? Would you say that everyone is ok no matter what they believe, even if they didn't believe in you or believed that someone else was you?
Would you be Mormon? Would you deny yourself of so many things that you could experience simply because you can?
Would you be Wiccan? Would you fly around on a broomstick?
Would you be a Rastafarian? Would you smoke weed and be polygamous?
Would you be a Scientologist? Would you....Would you.....uhm....would you believe ridiculous crap?
What kind of God would you be?
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Mighty Midget
Danny Woodhead might be one of my favorite football players.
There's a reason the New England Patriots are my favorite football team. Actually there are a few. One, everyone seems to hate them, which to me spells greatness. On a stage like the NFL, if people don't hate you, you just aren't good enough at your job to hate. Take the hapless Buffalo Bills as an example: hell, they are in the same division as the Patriots and I don't even worry about them.
The real thing I love about them though, is that although they are passionate, they aren't brash. They go out every week and talk through their play rather than their mouths. It may actually get comical at times how little they say and their "party line" answers that flow from the five or six words Coach Belichick regularly says in post-game press conferences. As big of a stage and as large of a spotlight that is shone on every NFL team, they understand that you have to understate things just so they aren't overblown.
Anyway, Woodhead, to me, is a throwback (only to the early 2000's) Patriot. He reminds me of Troy Brown. He will do anything asked of him, understate it, and play larger than he talks. I mean, in the post-game conference last night he was asked what he did on his 50-yard catch and run. He gave all the credit to the line and blocks thrown by receivers and then said "I just had to run with the ball" To be honest, that would normally be an understatement in the NFL. Add in the fact that he is MY HEIGHT, which means essentially a midget, and it becomes incredibly understated. He is running full speed against people a foot taller and hundred or so pounds heavier than him on AVERAGE. He runs like he's 6'2" and 225 pounds instead of 5'8" and 192 pounds. This is the kind of player that exemplifies the New England Patriots and why I root for them.
There's a reason the New England Patriots are my favorite football team. Actually there are a few. One, everyone seems to hate them, which to me spells greatness. On a stage like the NFL, if people don't hate you, you just aren't good enough at your job to hate. Take the hapless Buffalo Bills as an example: hell, they are in the same division as the Patriots and I don't even worry about them.
The real thing I love about them though, is that although they are passionate, they aren't brash. They go out every week and talk through their play rather than their mouths. It may actually get comical at times how little they say and their "party line" answers that flow from the five or six words Coach Belichick regularly says in post-game press conferences. As big of a stage and as large of a spotlight that is shone on every NFL team, they understand that you have to understate things just so they aren't overblown.
Anyway, Woodhead, to me, is a throwback (only to the early 2000's) Patriot. He reminds me of Troy Brown. He will do anything asked of him, understate it, and play larger than he talks. I mean, in the post-game conference last night he was asked what he did on his 50-yard catch and run. He gave all the credit to the line and blocks thrown by receivers and then said "I just had to run with the ball" To be honest, that would normally be an understatement in the NFL. Add in the fact that he is MY HEIGHT, which means essentially a midget, and it becomes incredibly understated. He is running full speed against people a foot taller and hundred or so pounds heavier than him on AVERAGE. He runs like he's 6'2" and 225 pounds instead of 5'8" and 192 pounds. This is the kind of player that exemplifies the New England Patriots and why I root for them.
Monday, December 6, 2010
A Spider that Does Kegels
I love those moments when you are hanging out with someone that you have been friends with for a long time and they say or do something that is a hallmark of your connection. Something that makes you sit back and think "That right there, is why I am friends with you".
I was in Subway the other day. Thrilling, I know. When my friend Joe suddenly remarks on the line of spider web that is connected from one end of the ceiling to the other. Bear in mind that this is a good 15-20 feet of distance from one end to the other. He proceeds to wonder aloud (I'm sure to the utter bewilderment of those around us) how in the world a spider was able to shoot web across that kind of distance.
It must have been a super spider or something to shoot a singular line of web across that gulf. How in the world did it manage to do such a thing? I mean, I get it when I see a web made like a bridge, but this is just one long strand over the distance of 20 feet!
Of course, this is where I chime in.
I bet that spider does Kegels.
This is the thing friendships are made of.
I was in Subway the other day. Thrilling, I know. When my friend Joe suddenly remarks on the line of spider web that is connected from one end of the ceiling to the other. Bear in mind that this is a good 15-20 feet of distance from one end to the other. He proceeds to wonder aloud (I'm sure to the utter bewilderment of those around us) how in the world a spider was able to shoot web across that kind of distance.
It must have been a super spider or something to shoot a singular line of web across that gulf. How in the world did it manage to do such a thing? I mean, I get it when I see a web made like a bridge, but this is just one long strand over the distance of 20 feet!
Of course, this is where I chime in.
I bet that spider does Kegels.
This is the thing friendships are made of.
Monday, November 29, 2010
It Always Comes Back to You
It always comes back to you.
Memories you try to forget,
Images you try to unsee,
Words you try to unsay,
Feelings you try to unfeel.
Playing tug-of-war with
Grenades made of steel.
Shiny bulbs and pockets
Of warmth turned cold
With an age-worn peel.
It always comes back to you.
The memories you want back,
Rolling in a reel of sepia-
Toned movies of nostalgic
Joy that soon fades to black.
It always comes back to you.
The images you cannot deny,
Flashing in unison with a snap
Of remorse and regret, still
Painted on the walls of my eye.
It always comes back to you.
The words you wish had been said,
Always lined up so perfectly,
Just too late to have an effect
After they got caught in your head.
I always come back to you.
Feelings that will always remain
In my heart. No matter how hard I try
To refrain from thinking or feeling
You simply because of the pain.
Memories you try to forget,
Images you try to unsee,
Words you try to unsay,
Feelings you try to unfeel.
Playing tug-of-war with
Grenades made of steel.
Shiny bulbs and pockets
Of warmth turned cold
With an age-worn peel.
It always comes back to you.
The memories you want back,
Rolling in a reel of sepia-
Toned movies of nostalgic
Joy that soon fades to black.
It always comes back to you.
The images you cannot deny,
Flashing in unison with a snap
Of remorse and regret, still
Painted on the walls of my eye.
It always comes back to you.
The words you wish had been said,
Always lined up so perfectly,
Just too late to have an effect
After they got caught in your head.
I always come back to you.
Feelings that will always remain
In my heart. No matter how hard I try
To refrain from thinking or feeling
You simply because of the pain.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Grocery Store Hijinx
There is a lot of room for practical fun in grocery stores. Like bringing in a sharpie and drawing faces on all the produce. Or filling up several carts with a massive amount of weird stuff and leaving them around the store. Maybe even take a bunch of fresh vegetables and leave them sporadically inside the freezer section.
I'm actually compiling a grocery list to use in a practical joke.
Milk
Eggs
Hershey's Chocolate Bar
Orange Juice
Steak
Potatoes
Broccoli
Lettuce
Cheerios
I'm going to go into a grocery store and buy all of this. Then I'm gonna leave and go to the nearest grocery store to the first. I'm gonna bring in the groceries I just bought and exchange what I bought in the first store with items from the second store.
Does this qualify as shoplifting? Technically, I didn't pay for any of it, but I left the exact same object in its place...same brand and everything. I'd be willing to bet I'd get in a major hassle for doing it though. Makes very little sense to me, but sounds pretty funny. Hell, maybe don't even exchange them. Just keep on bringing small grocery items in without buying anything. Just bring some random groceries in each day and leave them there. See how long it takes them to confront you about it. I'd give it a week.
I'm actually compiling a grocery list to use in a practical joke.
Milk
Eggs
Hershey's Chocolate Bar
Orange Juice
Steak
Potatoes
Broccoli
Lettuce
Cheerios
I'm going to go into a grocery store and buy all of this. Then I'm gonna leave and go to the nearest grocery store to the first. I'm gonna bring in the groceries I just bought and exchange what I bought in the first store with items from the second store.
Does this qualify as shoplifting? Technically, I didn't pay for any of it, but I left the exact same object in its place...same brand and everything. I'd be willing to bet I'd get in a major hassle for doing it though. Makes very little sense to me, but sounds pretty funny. Hell, maybe don't even exchange them. Just keep on bringing small grocery items in without buying anything. Just bring some random groceries in each day and leave them there. See how long it takes them to confront you about it. I'd give it a week.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Take This with a Grain of Salt...
While driving behind someone with an absurdly closed-minded pro-life (not all pro-lifers are closed-minded, but this particular one happened to be) bumper sticker yesterday, my brain started running. I just kept on toying with the idea of how to thoroughly offend someone who has no logic behind their own position on abortion and simply blindly believes what their religion has told them about it.
I have nothing against religious people, just people who blindly follow anything, and that just happens to describe some religious people. So, although I don't actually agree with these statements, I came up with them while driving and attempting to think of the most ridiculously offensive things anyone could ever say to a religious fanatic fighting against abortion.
Abortion: Simply Sending Unborn Babies to God Sooner Rather than Later
Abortion: Send a Baby to God Before it can be Born and Tainted with Original Sin.
Abortion: Send a Baby to God Sooner than you Expected
Abortion: If Jesus had been Aborted, he wouldn't have had to Suffer on the Cross to get to Heaven.
Sometimes the way my mind works actually scares me...
I have nothing against religious people, just people who blindly follow anything, and that just happens to describe some religious people. So, although I don't actually agree with these statements, I came up with them while driving and attempting to think of the most ridiculously offensive things anyone could ever say to a religious fanatic fighting against abortion.
Abortion: Simply Sending Unborn Babies to God Sooner Rather than Later
Abortion: Send a Baby to God Before it can be Born and Tainted with Original Sin.
Abortion: Send a Baby to God Sooner than you Expected
Abortion: If Jesus had been Aborted, he wouldn't have had to Suffer on the Cross to get to Heaven.
Sometimes the way my mind works actually scares me...
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
"They" are Taking Over!
Paranoia is for idiots. Unless of course they are actually out to get you. I mean, it can only be an inflated ego that makes someone think that people are paying so much attention to them that everyone is actually colluding to destroy them in some grandiose plan. But what if someone is actually trying to do that? Everyone would think you were crazy, but it does happen, right? It would just make it that much worse because everyone would think you were crazy...which you probably are. There obviously aren't any large conspiracies against you.
But what about small conspiracies...How many people does it take to make a conspiracy? I bet I could get three people together to hate someone and attempt to socially destroy them. Does three people make a conspiracy? I bet I could find three people who hate me and want to destroy me too. Does that make me paranoid? Or am I just paranoid that I might be paranoid? What if you were paranoid and never knew it?! How would you ever solve your problem of paranoia? Or even worse, what if you weren't paranoid and should be?! Someone is actually trying to destroy you and you wouldn't be able to do anything about it because you don't suspect them of anything!
This is why we need security at the airport, random police searches of individuals for no reason and internments camps for people who think about possibly committing a crime. We need to protect ourselves.
But what about small conspiracies...How many people does it take to make a conspiracy? I bet I could get three people together to hate someone and attempt to socially destroy them. Does three people make a conspiracy? I bet I could find three people who hate me and want to destroy me too. Does that make me paranoid? Or am I just paranoid that I might be paranoid? What if you were paranoid and never knew it?! How would you ever solve your problem of paranoia? Or even worse, what if you weren't paranoid and should be?! Someone is actually trying to destroy you and you wouldn't be able to do anything about it because you don't suspect them of anything!
This is why we need security at the airport, random police searches of individuals for no reason and internments camps for people who think about possibly committing a crime. We need to protect ourselves.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Catharsis
How is it possible to feel so loved by the people around you yet hate everything at the same time? I've wished so many times in my life to be the one who cares less about the other person because so often I am the one who cares more. The one who cares more is always the one who is hurt more. I wish I had a metal heart. I wish I had the ability to be selfish. I so rarely do, and when I actually am selfish, I wind up feeling such a useless emotion such as guilt about it. This might even sound like I'm pouring my heart out in a sob story, but frankly, I don't give half a shit anymore. I hate being the one who cares less. In that particular situation, I feel like ten pounds of shit in a two pound bag and I hate that feeling.
I don't even give a shit that I get hurt. I'd rather care about people rather than ignore their feelings in favor of myself. And frankly, I can take it. If it means caring about someone in a way that transcends myself, I can take the punishment. I don't like taking it. When it occurs, it makes me want to live someone else's life. The simple fact remains that I can handle it eventually. I can take the punishment. I can withstand the torture. I can absorb the ache. I can heal the wounds. And yet, with all the wounds I lick and all the gashes I bandage, I still feel that I personally could not live any other way. I just couldn't give up the possibility of someone giving back to me what I want to give to them. It is simply a curse and a blessing at the same time.
I don't even give a shit that I get hurt. I'd rather care about people rather than ignore their feelings in favor of myself. And frankly, I can take it. If it means caring about someone in a way that transcends myself, I can take the punishment. I don't like taking it. When it occurs, it makes me want to live someone else's life. The simple fact remains that I can handle it eventually. I can take the punishment. I can withstand the torture. I can absorb the ache. I can heal the wounds. And yet, with all the wounds I lick and all the gashes I bandage, I still feel that I personally could not live any other way. I just couldn't give up the possibility of someone giving back to me what I want to give to them. It is simply a curse and a blessing at the same time.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Finding Fear
Fear is a tricky thing. It doesn't quite serve a practical purpose, but it is a fundamental human emotion. It is so pervasive to the human situation that it is practically a human condition. Fear itself is the motivating factor for so many things in humanity. Terrorism is so terrifyingly successful because it preys on fear. People can actually be afraid of two opposing factors at the same time. There have been times in my life in which I have been simultaneously afraid of success and failure. It seems so counter-intuitive, but it still happens somehow.
Fear is primarily psychological, but it actually runs deeper than that. It's so primal that it is actually a baser instinct. It also means that it is incredibly hard to control and conquer. Ask anybody with an irrational phobia. It isn't something that you can just immerse yourself in and get over. It is so much more than that. It runs so much deeper than a psychological condition.
Fear can be used as well, but it is such a dangerous tool simply because of its sheer power. It may be one of the single most influential powers on the planet: simple fear. It's a simple concept with a ridiculously complex spiral of uses and manifestations. Life is a battle between overcoming fear and finding comfort, but it is also oddly about finding fear and fighting comfort.
This is what goes through my mind when I am attempting to sleep. I guess Aristotle would be proud, but my guess is he would be the only one.
Fear is primarily psychological, but it actually runs deeper than that. It's so primal that it is actually a baser instinct. It also means that it is incredibly hard to control and conquer. Ask anybody with an irrational phobia. It isn't something that you can just immerse yourself in and get over. It is so much more than that. It runs so much deeper than a psychological condition.
Fear can be used as well, but it is such a dangerous tool simply because of its sheer power. It may be one of the single most influential powers on the planet: simple fear. It's a simple concept with a ridiculously complex spiral of uses and manifestations. Life is a battle between overcoming fear and finding comfort, but it is also oddly about finding fear and fighting comfort.
This is what goes through my mind when I am attempting to sleep. I guess Aristotle would be proud, but my guess is he would be the only one.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
All the Same, Same the All
You can tell pretty easily what is important to people. Just look at what they choose to brag about. The boasting doesn't have to be (and most often isn't) verbal or direct. It is simply what they take pride in, what they desire, what they show off, what they present, what foot they put forward.
That middle-aged man you saw driving down the street in a Ferrari.
That woman you saw walking in $3000 boots from a designer you can't pronounce.
That guy in the bar drinking a beer 8 times more expensive than all the others.
They are all making a statement that can basically be drilled down to "I'm better than you." Everyone tries to differentiate themselves. Everyone tries to show people they are better than others. There are seemingly endless avenues for this.
The actual reality though is that it is just overcompensation for an insecurity. The fact is that fundamentally, we are all the same. I don't even mean strictly that people are the same as other human beings. I mean that we are all the same as any other organism in existence. We are walking protoplasm that masquerades as something more glorious than worm food. This sounds nihilistic, but I assure you it is not. I have no issue with valuing human life as being worth more than other forms of life. In fact, I think you are screwed up if you don't (You hear me, PETA?!)
There is a clear separation between realizing that you are not objectively superior or even different than a tree or a virus and placing personal value on yourself, your species, your tribe, etc. Life shouldn't be changed by the realization that it ends. You should have always known that anyway. In fact, it should only spur you to value it more. These values are universal.
There is no point in valuing someone for their car. You receive nothing in the grand scheme of things by proving yourself smarter than someone else. You show nothing by flaunting the fact that you have more money. You still die. You still fade. Your effect on the earth is nothing more than that of a rock or a tree. Just in the same way that the earth's effect on the universe is nothing more than the sun or Alpha Centauri. The real point is to just enjoy yourself with the time you have. It is actually quite liberating to realize that you are no more than dirt or air or fire or dust or wind or dust in the wind.
That middle-aged man you saw driving down the street in a Ferrari.
That woman you saw walking in $3000 boots from a designer you can't pronounce.
That guy in the bar drinking a beer 8 times more expensive than all the others.
They are all making a statement that can basically be drilled down to "I'm better than you." Everyone tries to differentiate themselves. Everyone tries to show people they are better than others. There are seemingly endless avenues for this.
The actual reality though is that it is just overcompensation for an insecurity. The fact is that fundamentally, we are all the same. I don't even mean strictly that people are the same as other human beings. I mean that we are all the same as any other organism in existence. We are walking protoplasm that masquerades as something more glorious than worm food. This sounds nihilistic, but I assure you it is not. I have no issue with valuing human life as being worth more than other forms of life. In fact, I think you are screwed up if you don't (You hear me, PETA?!)
There is a clear separation between realizing that you are not objectively superior or even different than a tree or a virus and placing personal value on yourself, your species, your tribe, etc. Life shouldn't be changed by the realization that it ends. You should have always known that anyway. In fact, it should only spur you to value it more. These values are universal.
There is no point in valuing someone for their car. You receive nothing in the grand scheme of things by proving yourself smarter than someone else. You show nothing by flaunting the fact that you have more money. You still die. You still fade. Your effect on the earth is nothing more than that of a rock or a tree. Just in the same way that the earth's effect on the universe is nothing more than the sun or Alpha Centauri. The real point is to just enjoy yourself with the time you have. It is actually quite liberating to realize that you are no more than dirt or air or fire or dust or wind or dust in the wind.
Friday, October 22, 2010
My Superpowers
By day, mild mannered Craig.
By night, Super Craig
With the following powers that allow me to hypothetically fight crime and create enormous amounts of collateral damage to the city I dwell in with no fear of accountability thanks to my alter-ego!
1. I can run at speeds in excess of 10 mph when induced to do so by a lion chasing me.
2. I can see in the dark in portions of the world where there are lights on at that moment.
3. I can make a menagerie of facial expressions with absolutely no conscious effort.
4. I can halt any free-flowing conversation in one sentence.
5. I can leap 3 small stacks of dimes in a single bound.
6. I can fly downward through the air for up to 3 seconds depending on the height of the building I am jumping off of.
7. I can make anyone in the room feel uncomfortable and offended.
8. I can write so spectacularly well that James Joyce would be jealous.
9. I can convert certain organic matter into pure electrical energy.
10. I can travel forward through time into the future at the exact rate of time passing.
11. I can read in such a way that no noise can penetrate the force field of my attention.
12. I can speak in a volume unfathomable to the average person at my normal speaking volume.
13. I can take any guaranteed situation and make the outcome variable.
14. I can move objects with my mind and only one syllogistic step in between.
15. I can do things that mystify normal people and defy any explanation.
16. I am omnipotent since I actually accept that I know nothing and therefore is nothing to know so that knowing nothing would mean knowing everything.
17. I can make any argument correct through the use of circular logic.
18. I can read an entire book without having a desire to watch television instead.
19. I can teleport my body through any matter that is either a combination of two oxygen molecules or a combination of two hydrogen molecules bound with one oxygen.
20. I can travel backward through time in the form of memories.
Beat that.
By night, Super Craig
With the following powers that allow me to hypothetically fight crime and create enormous amounts of collateral damage to the city I dwell in with no fear of accountability thanks to my alter-ego!
1. I can run at speeds in excess of 10 mph when induced to do so by a lion chasing me.
2. I can see in the dark in portions of the world where there are lights on at that moment.
3. I can make a menagerie of facial expressions with absolutely no conscious effort.
4. I can halt any free-flowing conversation in one sentence.
5. I can leap 3 small stacks of dimes in a single bound.
6. I can fly downward through the air for up to 3 seconds depending on the height of the building I am jumping off of.
7. I can make anyone in the room feel uncomfortable and offended.
8. I can write so spectacularly well that James Joyce would be jealous.
9. I can convert certain organic matter into pure electrical energy.
10. I can travel forward through time into the future at the exact rate of time passing.
11. I can read in such a way that no noise can penetrate the force field of my attention.
12. I can speak in a volume unfathomable to the average person at my normal speaking volume.
13. I can take any guaranteed situation and make the outcome variable.
14. I can move objects with my mind and only one syllogistic step in between.
15. I can do things that mystify normal people and defy any explanation.
16. I am omnipotent since I actually accept that I know nothing and therefore is nothing to know so that knowing nothing would mean knowing everything.
17. I can make any argument correct through the use of circular logic.
18. I can read an entire book without having a desire to watch television instead.
19. I can teleport my body through any matter that is either a combination of two oxygen molecules or a combination of two hydrogen molecules bound with one oxygen.
20. I can travel backward through time in the form of memories.
Beat that.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Individuals & People
I love individuals.
I hate people.
There is a fundamental difference between groups of people and an individual person. People lose their individuality in groups. If you are unwilling to conform to a group mentality, groups exclude you. That's actually the point of groups in the first place; to exclude people who don't see things the same way they do. Otherwise, it wouldn't be a group. People within groups just naturally start to sacrifice their individuality to be part of the group. The longer they are enmeshed inside the group, the more individuality they will give up in order to stay a member of that group.
I love meeting people. I love learning about the individual intricacies of personalities. I hate getting to know people who are parts of groups. Basically, I already know everything I need to know about them because I can interpret what the group is all about before I ever say two words to the person enmeshed in the group.
Long story short; I wish there were more individuals and less groups in this world.
I hate people.
There is a fundamental difference between groups of people and an individual person. People lose their individuality in groups. If you are unwilling to conform to a group mentality, groups exclude you. That's actually the point of groups in the first place; to exclude people who don't see things the same way they do. Otherwise, it wouldn't be a group. People within groups just naturally start to sacrifice their individuality to be part of the group. The longer they are enmeshed inside the group, the more individuality they will give up in order to stay a member of that group.
I love meeting people. I love learning about the individual intricacies of personalities. I hate getting to know people who are parts of groups. Basically, I already know everything I need to know about them because I can interpret what the group is all about before I ever say two words to the person enmeshed in the group.
Long story short; I wish there were more individuals and less groups in this world.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
100 Innings of Baseball
I've been taking a break from writing recently. I like these breaks. It makes me feel slightly unproductive in what I consider my career, but that is how it goes sometimes. Every once in a while I feel like the well needs to be refreshed with a sort of fasting. I wish there was some kind of ritual sacrifice (human or animal, either would be fine) that would speed up the process of re-fueling the engine and re-stoking the creative fire that drives the writing process of my brain and fingers. Too bad, but there isn't. So instead, I go out and live instead of write.
I played 100 innings of baseball with three other friends. I was insanely rusty from having exclusively umpired for the past 8 years. A sobering experience to say the least, since I am used to being one of the best players on the field. Slightly embarrassed, which is odd for me since I don't feel that particular emotion very much. But all in all, I loved playing in it. Not only for spending the time with three friends, one of whom I very rarely see anymore, but also for some indispensable moments. One of which concerns my old boss for umpiring who has ALS, the disease that the game is raising funds to fight. It also deals with my old umpiring partner who basically taught me how to take my umpiring skills to the next level, Alberto.
Two years ago, Alberto came in to pitch ion the 100 innings game, which is significant since he was a minor league pitcher before he blew out his rotator cuff. When he came in to pitch, I took the umpiring position behind home plate in a surprise move. We had fun with it, but this time was immeasurably better. My boss used to umpire himself and used to do an immense amount of innings in the 100 inning game, but as his disease has progressed, his time in the game has been reduced every year until he can only do one half-inning at midnight.
This particular year, he came in to umpire as Alberto was pitching and it was only fitting that I would be the third batter to face him. And only fitting that Walter would call strike two after only one pitch. I'll never forget that at bat.
I played 100 innings of baseball with three other friends. I was insanely rusty from having exclusively umpired for the past 8 years. A sobering experience to say the least, since I am used to being one of the best players on the field. Slightly embarrassed, which is odd for me since I don't feel that particular emotion very much. But all in all, I loved playing in it. Not only for spending the time with three friends, one of whom I very rarely see anymore, but also for some indispensable moments. One of which concerns my old boss for umpiring who has ALS, the disease that the game is raising funds to fight. It also deals with my old umpiring partner who basically taught me how to take my umpiring skills to the next level, Alberto.
Two years ago, Alberto came in to pitch ion the 100 innings game, which is significant since he was a minor league pitcher before he blew out his rotator cuff. When he came in to pitch, I took the umpiring position behind home plate in a surprise move. We had fun with it, but this time was immeasurably better. My boss used to umpire himself and used to do an immense amount of innings in the 100 inning game, but as his disease has progressed, his time in the game has been reduced every year until he can only do one half-inning at midnight.
This particular year, he came in to umpire as Alberto was pitching and it was only fitting that I would be the third batter to face him. And only fitting that Walter would call strike two after only one pitch. I'll never forget that at bat.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Memoria - Opening
pages 1,2 and 3 of my book:
Balance is precarious. The fate of the world is to bounce between extremes. Everything in this world is a sliding scale between two polar opposite forces that do not actually exist. Balance is the only idea that is between the poles and is a pole itself. Balance is balanced by its opposing force: Chaos.
Chaos is intertwining with everything. Chaos ensues when two poles in this world rages against each other in a never-ending battle. Balance is a cease-fire being declared, but chaos is always the drop of a hat away. No polar extreme can exist without trying to prove itself superior to its counterpart.
Best & Worst
Wisdom & Foolishness
Belief & Incredulity
Light & Darkness
Hope & Despair
Everything & Nothing
Heaven & Hell
Good & Evil
Memory & Moment
Chaos & Balance
Logic & Emotion
There is a never ending war between polar opposites that rages on to sway the hearts and minds of human beings. Whether you like it or not, you are a member of an army for one of the two sides. Language is the tool that human beings use to wage these wars. It is the bomb, the spear, the gun, the knife, the sword, and the shield. You are dependent on language and it is dependent on you.
You are never alone. No matter where you go in this world or any other, true solitude is simply impossible. Sit in the middle of the forest. Walk in the middle of the desert. Stand on the peak of a mountain. Life teems all around you. There isn't any escape from energy. This destroys independence. Human beings are dependent upon interaction and dependent upon language for interaction. Humans thirst for interaction. They crave it. They are made vulnerable by it. They are made weak for it. Hermits are fools. It is not even possible to achieve isolation.
Animals surround you in the forest. Cacti sprout from the desert basin. Birds fly around the mountaintop. Energy flows in its never-ending cycle; never created and never destroyed. Natural energy is only the tip of the iceberg. Anywhere you stand, there are man-made forces swirling around you: radio waves, microwaves, x-rays, wireless network waves, cell phone waves, satellite waves, brain waves. The last are the most disruptive of all. They span the greatest distance, even span time, and one cannot escape them. The more you try and escape, the further down you sink in the depths of your own quicksand. Your thoughts entangle and enrapture you until they envelop and encompass you. From the depth of your consciousness to the latest firing neuron, one word exists that simultaneously gives meaning to life and strips life of any meaning whatsoever: Memory.
Memory is inherently chaotic. The smallest trigger can spur the most involved memory. Yet no memory can ever do justice to the moment. Every memory is false. The details are never exact and often major points of the situation are exaggerated or falsified to subconsciously appease the ego. The human race seeks to control nature, human behavior, technology and matter itself while control of their own brain eludes them; a collective overcompensation complex that sweeps through the entire species and it stems from chaos and memory. Human beings cannot control their own thought processes and are deathly afraid of the implications of that fact. As a result, they find comfort in the illusion of stability and react violently to those rare people who embrace both sides of creation and destruction.
All things in nature are breaking down and people like me exist solely to give it a nudge. Ambassadors of Anarchy. Emissarial Envoys of Entropy. Cataclysmic Connoisseurs. Panderers of Pandemonium. Harbingers of Havoc. Bedfellows of Bedlam. Demagogues of Disarray. Turnkeys of Tumultuous Turmoil. Instruments of Incandescent Impishness. Quintessential Quetzalcoatls of the Quasar. Couriers of Chaos.
Balance is precarious. The fate of the world is to bounce between extremes. Everything in this world is a sliding scale between two polar opposite forces that do not actually exist. Balance is the only idea that is between the poles and is a pole itself. Balance is balanced by its opposing force: Chaos.
Chaos is intertwining with everything. Chaos ensues when two poles in this world rages against each other in a never-ending battle. Balance is a cease-fire being declared, but chaos is always the drop of a hat away. No polar extreme can exist without trying to prove itself superior to its counterpart.
Best & Worst
Wisdom & Foolishness
Belief & Incredulity
Light & Darkness
Hope & Despair
Everything & Nothing
Heaven & Hell
Good & Evil
Memory & Moment
Chaos & Balance
Logic & Emotion
There is a never ending war between polar opposites that rages on to sway the hearts and minds of human beings. Whether you like it or not, you are a member of an army for one of the two sides. Language is the tool that human beings use to wage these wars. It is the bomb, the spear, the gun, the knife, the sword, and the shield. You are dependent on language and it is dependent on you.
You are never alone. No matter where you go in this world or any other, true solitude is simply impossible. Sit in the middle of the forest. Walk in the middle of the desert. Stand on the peak of a mountain. Life teems all around you. There isn't any escape from energy. This destroys independence. Human beings are dependent upon interaction and dependent upon language for interaction. Humans thirst for interaction. They crave it. They are made vulnerable by it. They are made weak for it. Hermits are fools. It is not even possible to achieve isolation.
Animals surround you in the forest. Cacti sprout from the desert basin. Birds fly around the mountaintop. Energy flows in its never-ending cycle; never created and never destroyed. Natural energy is only the tip of the iceberg. Anywhere you stand, there are man-made forces swirling around you: radio waves, microwaves, x-rays, wireless network waves, cell phone waves, satellite waves, brain waves. The last are the most disruptive of all. They span the greatest distance, even span time, and one cannot escape them. The more you try and escape, the further down you sink in the depths of your own quicksand. Your thoughts entangle and enrapture you until they envelop and encompass you. From the depth of your consciousness to the latest firing neuron, one word exists that simultaneously gives meaning to life and strips life of any meaning whatsoever: Memory.
Memory is inherently chaotic. The smallest trigger can spur the most involved memory. Yet no memory can ever do justice to the moment. Every memory is false. The details are never exact and often major points of the situation are exaggerated or falsified to subconsciously appease the ego. The human race seeks to control nature, human behavior, technology and matter itself while control of their own brain eludes them; a collective overcompensation complex that sweeps through the entire species and it stems from chaos and memory. Human beings cannot control their own thought processes and are deathly afraid of the implications of that fact. As a result, they find comfort in the illusion of stability and react violently to those rare people who embrace both sides of creation and destruction.
All things in nature are breaking down and people like me exist solely to give it a nudge. Ambassadors of Anarchy. Emissarial Envoys of Entropy. Cataclysmic Connoisseurs. Panderers of Pandemonium. Harbingers of Havoc. Bedfellows of Bedlam. Demagogues of Disarray. Turnkeys of Tumultuous Turmoil. Instruments of Incandescent Impishness. Quintessential Quetzalcoatls of the Quasar. Couriers of Chaos.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Snakes Eating Their Own Tails
Balance is a tricky subject. It contains itself in an odd way. If you look at the world in a vacuum and use language to describe it, there exists opposing forces. Binary language only represents something the entire world has already been made of long before it was invented. Everything that can be described is only a sliding scale between two opposing extremes that never exist. It's like infinity, you never reach it, but it exists as a concept to give you some kind of inkling where 100,000 is in relation to other numbers.
Anyway, balance is the most ridiculous pole in this equation. You use the word balance to talk about other polar opposites. The balance between good and evil. The balance between light and dark. The balance between best and worst.
But now you also have to place balance on an axis of its own with its polar opposite being chaos. So now you have to find the balance between balance and chaos: a balance between balance? wrap your mind around that. Its a never ending cycle. Try to get to infinity.
Anyway, balance is the most ridiculous pole in this equation. You use the word balance to talk about other polar opposites. The balance between good and evil. The balance between light and dark. The balance between best and worst.
But now you also have to place balance on an axis of its own with its polar opposite being chaos. So now you have to find the balance between balance and chaos: a balance between balance? wrap your mind around that. Its a never ending cycle. Try to get to infinity.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Memoria - The Man
Memoria - Page 39
Introduction of The Man
Simple things are funny things. But predictable things are not funny things. Does simple always mean predictable? The world is simple. The world is predictable. The world is funny. The world is insipid. Is that hypocrisy? Is that duality? Still predictable. The sky is still behind the clouds. There is water at the bottom of the ocean. The tides are going to fall. The moon will rise. The earth will turn. Night will come. Waves will crash.
—To see the world in a grain of sand.
The brambly voice cut through The Boy's reverie. Neither shocked nor frightened, The Boy turns to the owner of the voice that resembles glass being crushed by a metal rolling pin. The Boy's cool gaze meets with a pair of eyes cut from glacier ice. The eyes pierce The Boy's normally hard gaze with their own ferocity. There is no malice, but an intensity that could make Santa Clause celebrate Kwanza. Underneath those optomic missiles, lies a wide, boyish grin set within a thick, salt-and-peppered beard that sits flush on cheekbones chiseled with a hacksaw. The wind rifles through the jet black hair that ripples in waves from his forehead to the base of his neck.
The Man moves with deliberate agility and slides down to sit on the red rock next to The Boy. The Man and The Boy sit in utter silence watching the waves crash against the beachhead and the faint silhouette of the sun rise higher behind the cloud cover. The Boy slowly turns to look at the strange man who sits stoically beside him, slightly out of place with his surroundings yet fitting in perfectly.
Introduction of The Man
Simple things are funny things. But predictable things are not funny things. Does simple always mean predictable? The world is simple. The world is predictable. The world is funny. The world is insipid. Is that hypocrisy? Is that duality? Still predictable. The sky is still behind the clouds. There is water at the bottom of the ocean. The tides are going to fall. The moon will rise. The earth will turn. Night will come. Waves will crash.
—To see the world in a grain of sand.
The brambly voice cut through The Boy's reverie. Neither shocked nor frightened, The Boy turns to the owner of the voice that resembles glass being crushed by a metal rolling pin. The Boy's cool gaze meets with a pair of eyes cut from glacier ice. The eyes pierce The Boy's normally hard gaze with their own ferocity. There is no malice, but an intensity that could make Santa Clause celebrate Kwanza. Underneath those optomic missiles, lies a wide, boyish grin set within a thick, salt-and-peppered beard that sits flush on cheekbones chiseled with a hacksaw. The wind rifles through the jet black hair that ripples in waves from his forehead to the base of his neck.
The Man moves with deliberate agility and slides down to sit on the red rock next to The Boy. The Man and The Boy sit in utter silence watching the waves crash against the beachhead and the faint silhouette of the sun rise higher behind the cloud cover. The Boy slowly turns to look at the strange man who sits stoically beside him, slightly out of place with his surroundings yet fitting in perfectly.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Perfectionism
A few random thoughts about perfectionism:
Perfectionism is usually said with a negative connotation. I agree with this sentiment, especially as I woefully consider myself a perfectionist. There are positive aspects to perfectionism though. For one, it makes people strive to improve in every aspect of their life. It lends ambition to you even in areas that you may have plateaued and in which you already excel.
The downside of it is that it can paralyze and blind those who are afflicted by it. Perfectionism can blind you by narrowing your vision so that you are only focused on one thing since you are not perfect. It is very easy to let other things go by the wayside and allow an obsessive attitude occur about one particular thing.
Perfectionism can also paralyze in the sense of dissuading someone from moving forward with their life because they are either afraid to fail or just uncomfortable since they aren't the absolute greatest at one particular aspect of their life.
All in all, perfectionism has some positive aspects, but I have to say that the ramifications of perfectionism are mostly negative.
Perfectionism is usually said with a negative connotation. I agree with this sentiment, especially as I woefully consider myself a perfectionist. There are positive aspects to perfectionism though. For one, it makes people strive to improve in every aspect of their life. It lends ambition to you even in areas that you may have plateaued and in which you already excel.
The downside of it is that it can paralyze and blind those who are afflicted by it. Perfectionism can blind you by narrowing your vision so that you are only focused on one thing since you are not perfect. It is very easy to let other things go by the wayside and allow an obsessive attitude occur about one particular thing.
Perfectionism can also paralyze in the sense of dissuading someone from moving forward with their life because they are either afraid to fail or just uncomfortable since they aren't the absolute greatest at one particular aspect of their life.
All in all, perfectionism has some positive aspects, but I have to say that the ramifications of perfectionism are mostly negative.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
A Reason for Everything?
Why does everyone need a reason for things that other people do? I have to say if it isn't very obvious why someone is doing something at least slightly out of the ordinary, then most people scrutinize the decision; endlessly. And if you don't give an answer that makes sense in that person's estimation and experience, you are deemed a dangerous individual to their own little universe. I mean dangerous as in someone they don't particularly like or dislike but are made uncomfortable by because they don't quite understand them.
Personally, I like people I don't understand. I find people that fit my logical flow to be somewhat boring. But why don't people just do things for no reason? Well, I shouldn't say no reason...there is a reason for everything. But why can't it simply be
"For shits and giggles"
"Because I felt like it"
"Because I wanted to"
"For kicks"
"For the sheer fun of it"
without garnering wary looks and uncomfortable silences or acting like you are a sideshow?
Personally, I like people I don't understand. I find people that fit my logical flow to be somewhat boring. But why don't people just do things for no reason? Well, I shouldn't say no reason...there is a reason for everything. But why can't it simply be
"For shits and giggles"
"Because I felt like it"
"Because I wanted to"
"For kicks"
"For the sheer fun of it"
without garnering wary looks and uncomfortable silences or acting like you are a sideshow?
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Set Up For Failure
So, has the United States as a collective organism learned its lesson from the economic crash? I have to say in one critical aspect, the answer has to be a resounding no. The big banks are still conglomerated and a decently large point of failure. The stimulus package has done absolutely nothing to curb the growth and dominance of the huge banks that caused the meltdown in the first place. The whole point of capitalism is that businesses that are not performing well begin to fail and allow other better run businesses to ascend to prominence.
This breaks down when a government regulates things enough to create barriers to failure, but do not regulate enough to prevent a business from becoming so integral to the economy that it would cause a financial catastrophe if it failed. But we haven't seemed to learn this lesson, as the banks and insurance companies that were the central cause of the economic crisis are beginning to rise again. The concentration of wealth in certain spheres is the byproduct and the correlative cause of the slow recovery the country is experiencing and most likely will cause more busts in the future.
Will we ever learn?
This breaks down when a government regulates things enough to create barriers to failure, but do not regulate enough to prevent a business from becoming so integral to the economy that it would cause a financial catastrophe if it failed. But we haven't seemed to learn this lesson, as the banks and insurance companies that were the central cause of the economic crisis are beginning to rise again. The concentration of wealth in certain spheres is the byproduct and the correlative cause of the slow recovery the country is experiencing and most likely will cause more busts in the future.
Will we ever learn?
Monday, September 27, 2010
Memoria - Pages 32 & 33
Memory Introduction - Pages 32 & 33-ish
Salty granules whip through salty air and fly through now-salty wisps of hair that whip against The Boy's cheek. Chunks of dirt crunch underneath his boots as he makes his way across the long abandoned road. Now surrounded by trees, the sound of silence encroaches upon his incessantly noisy universe. The sea stretches out before his eyes. The only sounds left are the wind and the waves; both crashing interminably against whatever has the gall to interrupt their serendipitous journeys. He reaches down and grinds sand slowly between his thumb and index finger.
—To see the world in a grain of sand.
The Boy is as surprised as his surroundings at the suddenness of the adage as well as the new rasp his voice had acquired. The silky tone of his vocal cords had temporarily shifted to the earthy husk that always reminded him of a rasp rubbing against tree bark.
Dust flies off long locked tumblers as they turn rapidly within his mind. He slowly opens his palm so the remaining particles of sand are swept from their hitherto resting place of infinity into a spiraling tailspin. His eyes watch each granule without seeing any. The sand has unconsciously mimicked the vortex that has overtaken his conscious being. He slowly travels down the hallowed hallways of long repressed experiences ushered deep within his psyche. Memories he himself had locked behind thick, ancient oaken doors with rusty hinges and dust-caked jambs. He knows exactly where it is, but it has always been too painful to remember in its entirety. Yet he finally finds the right key and the day comes flooding back, overtaking his conscious mind with its force.
Salty granules whip through salty air and fly through now-salty wisps of hair that whip against The Boy's cheek. Chunks of dirt crunch underneath his boots as he makes his way across the long abandoned road. Now surrounded by trees, the sound of silence encroaches upon his incessantly noisy universe. The sea stretches out before his eyes. The only sounds left are the wind and the waves; both crashing interminably against whatever has the gall to interrupt their serendipitous journeys. He reaches down and grinds sand slowly between his thumb and index finger.
—To see the world in a grain of sand.
The Boy is as surprised as his surroundings at the suddenness of the adage as well as the new rasp his voice had acquired. The silky tone of his vocal cords had temporarily shifted to the earthy husk that always reminded him of a rasp rubbing against tree bark.
Dust flies off long locked tumblers as they turn rapidly within his mind. He slowly opens his palm so the remaining particles of sand are swept from their hitherto resting place of infinity into a spiraling tailspin. His eyes watch each granule without seeing any. The sand has unconsciously mimicked the vortex that has overtaken his conscious being. He slowly travels down the hallowed hallways of long repressed experiences ushered deep within his psyche. Memories he himself had locked behind thick, ancient oaken doors with rusty hinges and dust-caked jambs. He knows exactly where it is, but it has always been too painful to remember in its entirety. Yet he finally finds the right key and the day comes flooding back, overtaking his conscious mind with its force.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
The Pen Is Mightier
"A picture is worth a thousand words;"
But pictures never change.
The picture's meaning fades
Like rust on a thousand swords.
Words have much longer range
and infinitely sharper blades.
But pictures never change.
The picture's meaning fades
Like rust on a thousand swords.
Words have much longer range
and infinitely sharper blades.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Detached
Sometimes I feel like I live in a separate world from everyone else. Sometimes I feel by my very nature that I am completely and utterly different than everyone; even my closest friends. I live in a quandary of never quite fitting into groups of people. It is a quandary because I want to feel a sense of belonging, but I also don't. I'm not a group person, I'm a people person. I like interacting one on one. But sometimes, even that makes me feel estranged. As a writer, I have to observe which is just one more set of icing on the cake of my bubble world. With that sentiment in mind, this is a poem I wrote one day while sitting in this quagmire of other-worldliness.
Detached
I live separate from this world.
This world, this life, this time
Is a language foreign to my ear
As others take the wheel to steer.
I stare at people walking by,
Driving by, riding by, biking by,
Busy going places, living lives
While I observe it from outside.
Each one acting their own little play
Through song and dance on their stage.
I sit and watch them all portray
Their hearts from this self-made cage.
I sit and decay in a plastic chair
Wondering who, what, why and where
People go when they stop being fraught
With indecision wrought from a prison of thought.
Detached
I live separate from this world.
This world, this life, this time
Is a language foreign to my ear
As others take the wheel to steer.
I stare at people walking by,
Driving by, riding by, biking by,
Busy going places, living lives
While I observe it from outside.
Each one acting their own little play
Through song and dance on their stage.
I sit and watch them all portray
Their hearts from this self-made cage.
I sit and decay in a plastic chair
Wondering who, what, why and where
People go when they stop being fraught
With indecision wrought from a prison of thought.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Originality is Overrated
The amount of words you use is directly correlated to the originality of the combination of words.
Say one word. It is 100% certain that someone has said it before you. That is why it exists as a word.
Say two words. The likelihood of someone saying it before you is slightly diminished, but still remains well over 99%. I said. You were.
Apple brain. Not very common, but I'm sure in the history of the English language it has been said before.
Dodo shampoo. This one is still possible, though I'd say the chances of it having never been said before are slightly higher than apple brain.
Heretofore mayonnaise. I'm guessing this one might be original. But then again, throughout the entire history of the English language....who knows?
Now string three words together. The likelihood goes down yet again. Although the percentage would still be well over 99% considering the amount of three word combinations in the English language that make some semblance of sense. (Go ahead, dare me to find a legitimate use for the two word combinations above) But it would be slightly more likely to have never been said than a two word combination.
String more than ten words together and now it gets interesting. The sheer amount of English words mean the combinations are almost endless, but the amount of sentences that have been said in the history of the English language is so vast, that the percentage might still be over 99%...but now, I bet the average person could come up with some combination that has a chance of being original.
My real question here is when the cliff comes in. At what point does the percentage of originality fall off and start its rapid reduction to zero? Because it does eventually reach zero.
Take a novel. The average one is roughly 100,000 words. Those 100,000 words are strung together to form a coherent combination of words that is most likely completely original. I doubt the same 100,000 words have ever been independently written in the same sequence once in the history of the English language. Quite a limb I'm going out on there, eh?
I'd be very interested in which was more likely, 100,000 words being independently the same or coming up with a two word combination that has never been said.
Cantankerous onomatopoeia. Get back to me if you've ever heard that one before.
Say one word. It is 100% certain that someone has said it before you. That is why it exists as a word.
Say two words. The likelihood of someone saying it before you is slightly diminished, but still remains well over 99%. I said. You were.
Apple brain. Not very common, but I'm sure in the history of the English language it has been said before.
Dodo shampoo. This one is still possible, though I'd say the chances of it having never been said before are slightly higher than apple brain.
Heretofore mayonnaise. I'm guessing this one might be original. But then again, throughout the entire history of the English language....who knows?
Now string three words together. The likelihood goes down yet again. Although the percentage would still be well over 99% considering the amount of three word combinations in the English language that make some semblance of sense. (Go ahead, dare me to find a legitimate use for the two word combinations above) But it would be slightly more likely to have never been said than a two word combination.
String more than ten words together and now it gets interesting. The sheer amount of English words mean the combinations are almost endless, but the amount of sentences that have been said in the history of the English language is so vast, that the percentage might still be over 99%...but now, I bet the average person could come up with some combination that has a chance of being original.
My real question here is when the cliff comes in. At what point does the percentage of originality fall off and start its rapid reduction to zero? Because it does eventually reach zero.
Take a novel. The average one is roughly 100,000 words. Those 100,000 words are strung together to form a coherent combination of words that is most likely completely original. I doubt the same 100,000 words have ever been independently written in the same sequence once in the history of the English language. Quite a limb I'm going out on there, eh?
I'd be very interested in which was more likely, 100,000 words being independently the same or coming up with a two word combination that has never been said.
Cantankerous onomatopoeia. Get back to me if you've ever heard that one before.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Lying and its Discontents
I don't quite understand lying. But I do break it into two categories at the very least: lying to strangers and lying to friends. (lying to people you know and aren't friends with doesn't count because you necessarily don't care about them)
I can wrap my head around lying to strangers, they aren't people you know, you probably want something from them if you are talking to them at all and lying usually greases the wheels toward whatever it is that you want. It happens so often that people often subconsciously expect people they don't know very well to lie to them. Even to the point where they distrust someone who doesn't lie to them when they first meet them. Odd flip, but it does follow logic.
Lying to friends, however, I don't quite understand. Friends are necessarily close to us and we care about them. We always want something from them, but it would make sense that we want to give something of ourselves to them as well. It also stands to reason that if we are friends with them, they like us and have spent enough time to know who we are to a certain point. So what is the reason for lying to them?
My guess is fear. Fear of losing that friend, fear of losing companionship, fear of offending them, who knows? Fear of being alone is a strong one too.
As a case study, it was about six months ago when I heard a story (corroborated by two independent parties and partly my own eyes) in which a guy slept with a friend of his that he had known for a couple years. The issue being that she had a boyfriend at the time. The other issue was that he was only in the area for a month or two. So she cheated on him; but it happens and it's terrible. The more confounding thing to me is that she is still with him 6 months after the fact.
Obviously the relationship wasn't strong enough to stop her from cheating in the first place and in all honesty, I don't know her that well (we only hung out a couple times and always through a mutual friend) so I can't exactly comment on her psychological state or the likelihood of it happening again. I just can't understand how a relationship could withstand that and not erode the foundation of what they had. There are only 2 options, she told him and he's okay with it (not very likely without serious repercussions) or she did not tell him. Lying by omission, especially to friends, is arguably worse than lying to them directly.
How do you see someone so close to you without thinking about the elephant in the room? And what is the point of being with that person if you had a big enough reason to cheat on them? That is, other than the fear of being alone; the fear of someone close to you leaving; the fear of losing their companionship; the fear of incurring the wrath of someone you like, but don't like enough to tell them the truth...
I can wrap my head around lying to strangers, they aren't people you know, you probably want something from them if you are talking to them at all and lying usually greases the wheels toward whatever it is that you want. It happens so often that people often subconsciously expect people they don't know very well to lie to them. Even to the point where they distrust someone who doesn't lie to them when they first meet them. Odd flip, but it does follow logic.
Lying to friends, however, I don't quite understand. Friends are necessarily close to us and we care about them. We always want something from them, but it would make sense that we want to give something of ourselves to them as well. It also stands to reason that if we are friends with them, they like us and have spent enough time to know who we are to a certain point. So what is the reason for lying to them?
My guess is fear. Fear of losing that friend, fear of losing companionship, fear of offending them, who knows? Fear of being alone is a strong one too.
As a case study, it was about six months ago when I heard a story (corroborated by two independent parties and partly my own eyes) in which a guy slept with a friend of his that he had known for a couple years. The issue being that she had a boyfriend at the time. The other issue was that he was only in the area for a month or two. So she cheated on him; but it happens and it's terrible. The more confounding thing to me is that she is still with him 6 months after the fact.
Obviously the relationship wasn't strong enough to stop her from cheating in the first place and in all honesty, I don't know her that well (we only hung out a couple times and always through a mutual friend) so I can't exactly comment on her psychological state or the likelihood of it happening again. I just can't understand how a relationship could withstand that and not erode the foundation of what they had. There are only 2 options, she told him and he's okay with it (not very likely without serious repercussions) or she did not tell him. Lying by omission, especially to friends, is arguably worse than lying to them directly.
How do you see someone so close to you without thinking about the elephant in the room? And what is the point of being with that person if you had a big enough reason to cheat on them? That is, other than the fear of being alone; the fear of someone close to you leaving; the fear of losing their companionship; the fear of incurring the wrath of someone you like, but don't like enough to tell them the truth...
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Viva La Vida
Never an honest word
And that was when I ruled the world.
I'm obsessed with this song. I have a fairly addictive personality. I find something new I like and I become obsessed with it for a short amount of time and then I forget about it. If it is actually something that hits me, the infatuation gradually rises and again I want to see it, hear it, touch it, smell it, and taste it all the time.
For some reason I can't explain
I know St. Peter won't call my name
I've been listening to it all the time lately because it just hits me in the right way. This line is pretty much the epitome of why as well. It's not quite "ah, I'm goin to hell". It's so much more a resignation, a realization, a regretful woe, and a testament to his own wistfulness about not being able to get into heaven. I don't even take it as an afterlife thing, it's more about losing something in your life.
I used to rule the world.
Seas would rise when I gave the word.
Now in the morning I sleep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own.
It's like looking back upon something that you don't exactly regret, but realize you could have done it differently. Even more than that, it's like finally realizing that you never thought about alternatives when you were in the midst of this important period of your life and all of a sudden, you now know that you did have a choice after all but it is too late to do anything to change it.
And I discovered that my castles stand
upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand
And then to have it erode from underneath you when you thought it was so strong. If you've never experienced something in your life that was so strong and then eroded weakly, you have no idea how powerful this is.
It was the wicked and wild wind
blew down the door to let me in
It isn't like a huge explosion, it fades and it is arguably worse to be relegated to sitting back and watching it erode rather than making it go out in a blaze of glory. Especially if a big bang is how it started.
It's rare to hear something about active resignation that also isn't weak but powerful.
Just a puppet on a lonely string
Oh, who would ever want to be king?
And that was when I ruled the world.
I'm obsessed with this song. I have a fairly addictive personality. I find something new I like and I become obsessed with it for a short amount of time and then I forget about it. If it is actually something that hits me, the infatuation gradually rises and again I want to see it, hear it, touch it, smell it, and taste it all the time.
For some reason I can't explain
I know St. Peter won't call my name
I've been listening to it all the time lately because it just hits me in the right way. This line is pretty much the epitome of why as well. It's not quite "ah, I'm goin to hell". It's so much more a resignation, a realization, a regretful woe, and a testament to his own wistfulness about not being able to get into heaven. I don't even take it as an afterlife thing, it's more about losing something in your life.
I used to rule the world.
Seas would rise when I gave the word.
Now in the morning I sleep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own.
It's like looking back upon something that you don't exactly regret, but realize you could have done it differently. Even more than that, it's like finally realizing that you never thought about alternatives when you were in the midst of this important period of your life and all of a sudden, you now know that you did have a choice after all but it is too late to do anything to change it.
And I discovered that my castles stand
upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand
And then to have it erode from underneath you when you thought it was so strong. If you've never experienced something in your life that was so strong and then eroded weakly, you have no idea how powerful this is.
It was the wicked and wild wind
blew down the door to let me in
It isn't like a huge explosion, it fades and it is arguably worse to be relegated to sitting back and watching it erode rather than making it go out in a blaze of glory. Especially if a big bang is how it started.
It's rare to hear something about active resignation that also isn't weak but powerful.
Just a puppet on a lonely string
Oh, who would ever want to be king?
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
My Ear Hates Your Phone
I love the invention of texting. I hate talking on the phone. I do it simply because there is no other option most times, but the advent of the text message took the wind out of the phone's audio sails. It pretty much did away with over 90% of my phone calls. Before text messages, my ideal phone calls fell in one of two categories:
Phone call #1:
Them: Hello
Me: Hey, how's it goin?
Them: good, how about you?
Me: good, going to _____ in a bit. Wanna go?
Them: sure, meet you there.
Me: cool, see you soon.
Phone call #2:
Them: Hello
Me: Hey, how's it goin?
Them: good, how about you?
Me: good, going to ______ in a bit. Wanna go?
Them: sorry, got plans already.
Me: cool, see you next time.
Both of these conversations can easily be taken care of by text. So 90% of my phone calls are now textual. Being that I hate small talk and phone calls are pretty much all small talk, this was an incredible change.
Phone call #1:
Them: Hello
Me: Hey, how's it goin?
Them: good, how about you?
Me: good, going to _____ in a bit. Wanna go?
Them: sure, meet you there.
Me: cool, see you soon.
Phone call #2:
Them: Hello
Me: Hey, how's it goin?
Them: good, how about you?
Me: good, going to ______ in a bit. Wanna go?
Them: sorry, got plans already.
Me: cool, see you next time.
Both of these conversations can easily be taken care of by text. So 90% of my phone calls are now textual. Being that I hate small talk and phone calls are pretty much all small talk, this was an incredible change.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Holiday Hijinx
Labor Day might be my favorite holiday. I pretty much treat every day as if it were a holiday. so I don't generally celebrate more on holidays, but Labor Day is the paradox of holidays and therefore quintessentially human.
Unlike most other holidays, it actually makes sense even though it doesn't. Labor Day is a day we take off working to celebrate the fact that we work. Let's celebrate how hard we work by not doing it. It makes perfect sense to me. Not like some of our other holidays that don't even make paradoxical sense.
Christmas - Nonsense: Jesus wasn't even born in December and the date is actually from an Egyptian myth long before Christianity that became a pagan holiday Christians co-opted in order to convert more people.
Easter - Nonsense: Seriously, A grave gets robbed 2000 years ago and all of a sudden, we are hunting colored eggs hidden by a giant pink bunny? What in the world happened there?
Thanksgiving - We eat Turkey, fight with our family, watch football and go to sleep.....wait a minute, that's awesome, never mind.
Halloween - Awesome Nonsense: We dress up like idiots, girls dress up like whores in honor of scaring away dead spirits by looking like them. That's religion for you, but also proof that good things can come out of religion once a millennium; I love it that girls can dress up like whores in October guilt free.
Veteran's Day - Backward: Great idea in principle, but what in the world are all the people who weren't veterans doing getting a day off for something they had nothing to do with. Not to mention, most of the veterans I know don't even get the day off....
New Year's Day - Let's pick an arbitrary new beginning and celebrate by making very pious resolutions for wholesale changes to make our lives better and healthier for the coming year. By the way, then we'll kick it off by getting staggeringly, belligerently hammered and drive intoxicated to see how many car accidents we can have in one night!
July 4th - Let's set an arbitrary day that our country was "founded" and celebrate patriotism by shooting off incendiaries! Very apropos. Oh, and let's eat a tube of mystery meat parts that could include pieces of rat feces and shoe as well.
Screw em all and give me Labor Day!
Unlike most other holidays, it actually makes sense even though it doesn't. Labor Day is a day we take off working to celebrate the fact that we work. Let's celebrate how hard we work by not doing it. It makes perfect sense to me. Not like some of our other holidays that don't even make paradoxical sense.
Christmas - Nonsense: Jesus wasn't even born in December and the date is actually from an Egyptian myth long before Christianity that became a pagan holiday Christians co-opted in order to convert more people.
Easter - Nonsense: Seriously, A grave gets robbed 2000 years ago and all of a sudden, we are hunting colored eggs hidden by a giant pink bunny? What in the world happened there?
Thanksgiving - We eat Turkey, fight with our family, watch football and go to sleep.....wait a minute, that's awesome, never mind.
Halloween - Awesome Nonsense: We dress up like idiots, girls dress up like whores in honor of scaring away dead spirits by looking like them. That's religion for you, but also proof that good things can come out of religion once a millennium; I love it that girls can dress up like whores in October guilt free.
Veteran's Day - Backward: Great idea in principle, but what in the world are all the people who weren't veterans doing getting a day off for something they had nothing to do with. Not to mention, most of the veterans I know don't even get the day off....
New Year's Day - Let's pick an arbitrary new beginning and celebrate by making very pious resolutions for wholesale changes to make our lives better and healthier for the coming year. By the way, then we'll kick it off by getting staggeringly, belligerently hammered and drive intoxicated to see how many car accidents we can have in one night!
July 4th - Let's set an arbitrary day that our country was "founded" and celebrate patriotism by shooting off incendiaries! Very apropos. Oh, and let's eat a tube of mystery meat parts that could include pieces of rat feces and shoe as well.
Screw em all and give me Labor Day!
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Memoria - The Boy
The streetlight above flashes red and green simultaneously. Smoke rises from a car askew on the sidewalk with a streetlight pole sticking out of its hood. People run around the street like chickens with their feet cut off. The Boy sits calmly amidst the chaos. He slowly raises his head at the commotion. His azure eyes slink out of the shadow made by the brim of his jet black fedora. He runs two fingers up and down the two-day growth of stubble along his jaw line and fixes his gaze toward the low rumbling of an approaching motorcycle motor. As it passes without coming into his visual range, he turns his zirconian eyes back to the smoking car. He studies the wreckage, his eyes crawling slowly, purposefully across the scene. It had happened minutes ago. He watched it happen from where he sat; a raving lunatic who drove into a street pole. He then jumped out of the car, claimed to have seen God fly out of the street lamp and proceeded to sprint down a back alley, presumably giving chase to the deity.
The Boy's eyes narrow on a tuft of blond hair peeking over the edge of the back window. He looks at the smoke rising from the engine block. The Boy stands. His hands ripple with burn scars as the sunlight illuminates the subtle waves of scar tissue. He unbuttons his suit jacket and straightens his impressive, subtly pinstriped suit. He pulls the fedora off his head as if a princess was standing in front of him and allows his haphazardly styled, chestnut-colored hair to fall over his forehead. He softly places the hat on the bench behind him. The Boy breaks into a dead sprint.
The Boy weaves between the people running away from the car and the people running after the driver. He slams into the back door as the first tendrils of flame spiral out from beneath the hood. He pulls the small child from the car and carries him away from the wreck. He sets the child down near the bench and turns back to the car. The Boy stands with the child and watches the car explode in a ball of flame. He tousles The Kid's hair.
"Beautiful, eh?" The Boy says softly. The Kid simply nods his head as the flames dance in the mirrors of his eyes. The Boy turns and picks up his hat from the bench behind him. He slips it onto The Kid's head and it falls over his ears and covers his eyes.
"Ehh, you'll grow into it," The Boy chuckles and smiles as he walks away humming "Sympathy for the Devil."
The Boy's eyes narrow on a tuft of blond hair peeking over the edge of the back window. He looks at the smoke rising from the engine block. The Boy stands. His hands ripple with burn scars as the sunlight illuminates the subtle waves of scar tissue. He unbuttons his suit jacket and straightens his impressive, subtly pinstriped suit. He pulls the fedora off his head as if a princess was standing in front of him and allows his haphazardly styled, chestnut-colored hair to fall over his forehead. He softly places the hat on the bench behind him. The Boy breaks into a dead sprint.
The Boy weaves between the people running away from the car and the people running after the driver. He slams into the back door as the first tendrils of flame spiral out from beneath the hood. He pulls the small child from the car and carries him away from the wreck. He sets the child down near the bench and turns back to the car. The Boy stands with the child and watches the car explode in a ball of flame. He tousles The Kid's hair.
"Beautiful, eh?" The Boy says softly. The Kid simply nods his head as the flames dance in the mirrors of his eyes. The Boy turns and picks up his hat from the bench behind him. He slips it onto The Kid's head and it falls over his ears and covers his eyes.
"Ehh, you'll grow into it," The Boy chuckles and smiles as he walks away humming "Sympathy for the Devil."
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Tea Party Tyranny
Is there anything that a group or a movement can't corrupt?
I love the idea that the Tea Party started out with, I'd actually join up and fight for it if it hadn't been corrupted. The fact that it was founded as a Libertarian movement against runaway government spending, rampantly inflating taxation and a pervasively interfering government is amazing. The fact that it seemed like a badly needed third party was also incredible. Except for the fact that it is a thinly veiled offshoot of the Republican party and has become a monster that has absolutely nothing in common with the grassroots it claims to have been born from.
It actually seems to be the same crap that happened with Christianity. Give it a group and a following and it corrupts everything the founder preached. In fact, it usually turns into the exact opposite effect of the creator's original intention. Funny how that works.
I love the idea that the Tea Party started out with, I'd actually join up and fight for it if it hadn't been corrupted. The fact that it was founded as a Libertarian movement against runaway government spending, rampantly inflating taxation and a pervasively interfering government is amazing. The fact that it seemed like a badly needed third party was also incredible. Except for the fact that it is a thinly veiled offshoot of the Republican party and has become a monster that has absolutely nothing in common with the grassroots it claims to have been born from.
It actually seems to be the same crap that happened with Christianity. Give it a group and a following and it corrupts everything the founder preached. In fact, it usually turns into the exact opposite effect of the creator's original intention. Funny how that works.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Feel Bad to Feel Good
"I never choose to count my blessings, instead I choose to dwell on my disasters."
I used to listen to this line and feel slightly depressed because it did describe me. I actually hear it a completely different way now. I don't revel in my past happiness, but it is basically because I inherently don't have to. When I'm happy, that is the benefit and I leave it at that. I'm not going to look back on the happiness I find now with nostalgia. Instead I look back on my failures and see how they define me.
I bought a shirt from Life is Good that reads, "If the World were Perfect, It wouldn't be." I think that this is amazing practical advice. Some of the most poignant and influential experiences in my life have come because I stopped listening to the voice in my head saying that it wouldn't be a good idea. Mistakes make us who we are. I don't define myself by my successes; I define myself by my stupid decisions. Especially when they lead to fun, which they usually do.
I used to listen to this line and feel slightly depressed because it did describe me. I actually hear it a completely different way now. I don't revel in my past happiness, but it is basically because I inherently don't have to. When I'm happy, that is the benefit and I leave it at that. I'm not going to look back on the happiness I find now with nostalgia. Instead I look back on my failures and see how they define me.
I bought a shirt from Life is Good that reads, "If the World were Perfect, It wouldn't be." I think that this is amazing practical advice. Some of the most poignant and influential experiences in my life have come because I stopped listening to the voice in my head saying that it wouldn't be a good idea. Mistakes make us who we are. I don't define myself by my successes; I define myself by my stupid decisions. Especially when they lead to fun, which they usually do.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Single Point of Failure
There is a rule in information technology, but I think it is actually re-inventing a reinvention of a wheel. The rule is never to have a single point of failure. It's an incredibly useful rule for technological systems. It's not exactly about having backups for failures, it's about deriving information from different sources so that, if there is a failure, there isn't a catastrophic event that threatens the life of the system.
This rule is derived from information technology, but it really came from human life and history. They just reinvented the wheel. Now I'm reinventing the reinvention by placing it back in the hands of humanity. At any point in a person's life, there should never be a single psychological point of failure. Yet too often, we try to make this a rule in our lives. We try to derive self-worth from one source: a passion, another person, a calling, etc. It even works with a spread of friends. If all of your friends bring out the same side of you, then what is the point? I have a wide breadth of friends who bring out different sides of me and it is the first time I've had that for a long time. I forgot what it was like to hang out with different people, have different experiences and see different sides of myself.
I'm still searching for myself. This used to be a source of annoyance. I revel in it now. I've done things in the past year that I would have scoffed at if you had told me about it only 6 months ago. The biggest reason I have is because of the friends I've made in that span, and because I don't have a single point of failure for my own psyche anymore.
This rule is derived from information technology, but it really came from human life and history. They just reinvented the wheel. Now I'm reinventing the reinvention by placing it back in the hands of humanity. At any point in a person's life, there should never be a single psychological point of failure. Yet too often, we try to make this a rule in our lives. We try to derive self-worth from one source: a passion, another person, a calling, etc. It even works with a spread of friends. If all of your friends bring out the same side of you, then what is the point? I have a wide breadth of friends who bring out different sides of me and it is the first time I've had that for a long time. I forgot what it was like to hang out with different people, have different experiences and see different sides of myself.
I'm still searching for myself. This used to be a source of annoyance. I revel in it now. I've done things in the past year that I would have scoffed at if you had told me about it only 6 months ago. The biggest reason I have is because of the friends I've made in that span, and because I don't have a single point of failure for my own psyche anymore.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Things Change
Valedictorian speaks out against Education in Graduation Speech
YouTube Video of the Speech
I want to meet this girl. Not only is she speaking the unabashed truth, she had the courage to do so in one of the most influential yet controversial positions. The country is formed based on outdated ideals. It shows through the educational and governmental systems, because they are the bedrock of the society. Both schools and government take forever to change things within themselves.
The government supposed to be a representative of the people, yet its composition does not come close to resembling the populace. The government itself does not have anyone remotely young among its ranks. How are the "young" supposed to represent their interests, much less races and gender? I thought the country was founded on fighting the tyranny of not being represented in the body of governance creating the laws that govern them. Yet the cross-section of people in the government creating the laws is not even close to resembling the population. History repeats itself, eh?
This is relevant to the educational system because the needs of education change rapidly, yet the laws and the educational system are formed by people several generations removed from the current environment. It isn't the same world now as it was 10 years ago, much less 30 or 40. Yet the pace of change within the two most fundamental parts of society take so long to change that there are still blue laws that serve no purpose from 150 years ago on the books. An extreme example, but it stands to show that if the extreme exists, imagine what else does.
The schooling system is still based on creating model employees for an industrial society. That time is long past, yet we still continue to train people for a world gone by the wayside. How do you expect people to succeed in their lives when they are taught to succeed in a world that doesn't exist anymore?
Thursday, August 26, 2010
That's Right, I Wear Necklaces
I have two Celtic Knot necklaces that never leave my body. They are there all day, all night, all evening, all morning. I shower with them on. I sleep with them on. I have no idea whether it is a phase or not, I haven't been wearing them for that long. One of them is about ten years old and just recently found after a decently long period of being lost. The other is brand new. I'm actually thinking of getting a third for a specific reason, but that might be a little bit past overkill.
The reason I wear them is because I love Celtic Knots. They ground me in a way. They are finite expressions of infinity. They are the snakes eating their own tails.
The new knot is a cross symbolizing well being and life without complications. It has no beginning and no end, kinda like Finnegan's Wake. And Celtic history and James Joyce are together the closest things that make me almost proud of being Irish. I still can't be proud of something I achieved through accident of birth though. It weaves over and through itself, symbolizing a balance of internal and external influence in life.
The old one is spiritual rebirth. It is two fish intertwined. The two salmon represent wisdom and knowledge. Salmon are the keepers of all knowledge. Which is why it was the first one I ever owned; fitting for someone whose identity is so wrapped in intelligence to be holding the keeper of all knowledge at his chest.
I've never even considered getting a tattoo in my life. I'm much too fickle and could never conceive of something I would want on my skin now and 10 years from now. Celtic Knots are the first objects that are making me seriously consider getting ink.
The reason I wear them is because I love Celtic Knots. They ground me in a way. They are finite expressions of infinity. They are the snakes eating their own tails.
The new knot is a cross symbolizing well being and life without complications. It has no beginning and no end, kinda like Finnegan's Wake. And Celtic history and James Joyce are together the closest things that make me almost proud of being Irish. I still can't be proud of something I achieved through accident of birth though. It weaves over and through itself, symbolizing a balance of internal and external influence in life.
The old one is spiritual rebirth. It is two fish intertwined. The two salmon represent wisdom and knowledge. Salmon are the keepers of all knowledge. Which is why it was the first one I ever owned; fitting for someone whose identity is so wrapped in intelligence to be holding the keeper of all knowledge at his chest.
I've never even considered getting a tattoo in my life. I'm much too fickle and could never conceive of something I would want on my skin now and 10 years from now. Celtic Knots are the first objects that are making me seriously consider getting ink.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Just Don't Kill Anyone
Everything in this world is a sliding scale between two poles. The poles don't actually exist, they are always guideposts for describing people and the further along the scale a person is toward one pole or another is how radical or passionate they are about that particular issue. It's like a calculus convergence and divergence. Always approaching ever closer to zero or infinity without ever reaching it.
External and Internal Morality are two of these poles. They are often confused with religious and non-religious as well.
Personally, I have never understood people who let others tell them what to do; whether it be another human being, an idea of God, an idea of morality that did not come from within, a governmental body, a religion, etc.
I think the main difference between a religious person and a non-religious person is this idea of external morality. I think it is also why so many religious people say that non-religious people have no morality. That's not it, it just isn't like their own.
My whole life philosophy is to have the most fun while I'm here, regardless of anything outside killing someone or hurting someone unnecessarily. Some would say that's immoral, but there are many ways in which I do not find it acceptable to harm someone for my own happiness. Sounds like a moral compass to me, it is just my own. I don't have any delusions that my own morality is better than someone else's and that they should follow mine.
External and Internal Morality are two of these poles. They are often confused with religious and non-religious as well.
Personally, I have never understood people who let others tell them what to do; whether it be another human being, an idea of God, an idea of morality that did not come from within, a governmental body, a religion, etc.
I think the main difference between a religious person and a non-religious person is this idea of external morality. I think it is also why so many religious people say that non-religious people have no morality. That's not it, it just isn't like their own.
My whole life philosophy is to have the most fun while I'm here, regardless of anything outside killing someone or hurting someone unnecessarily. Some would say that's immoral, but there are many ways in which I do not find it acceptable to harm someone for my own happiness. Sounds like a moral compass to me, it is just my own. I don't have any delusions that my own morality is better than someone else's and that they should follow mine.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Permanent Loss
I am in mourning. You'll think it is stupid, but I don't care. You'd think I'd learn from my past. It wasn't the first time I'd been so stupid. I cried. It was stupid. It was unique. It was ultimate.
When I was in college 6 years ago, I was reading Oscar Wilde and I brought it out to BC to visit my friend Dan. We drank heavily that night and needed something to mix with vodka, so I went and bought a cheap gallon of orange juice. The morning after I took it with me and threw it in my bag so as not to waste it. It popped open and poured a half gallon of orange juice out over everything in my bag. Oscar Wilde was ruined. I never even got a replacement until someone bought me one six months ago after I told them the story. I never thought I'd do the same thing again six months later with something much more dear to me than Oscar Wilde.
I write. When I say that, I mean it in two ways. I write for a living and I also hand write everything. I type what I write in my notebook afterward. In the last week, I wrote two amazing scenes for my novel. They were dramatic and poignant and riveting. I had not had the chance to transpose them into my computer yet. My friends and I planned an excursion last Saturday and alcohol was involved so I put a bottle of Jameson whiskey in my bag. It leaked last night and destroyed my notebook. It is soaked entirely through and half of each page is a blue ball of blurred nothingness. I lost the two scenes.
It is unique because it is ultimately gone: the words I wrote, the language I weaved, the scene I created. They are gone and never to be duplicated or retrieved. It is like the death of a human being. I have never had a child and I have never created something such as this that I have loved like a child. Its death hit me sideways. I will write the scenes over again. The content will be the same. My memory is good enough that it will hold the spirit of the scenes I already wrote. But it will not be the same. The problem with this is that I almost feel like it is a perversion of the memory of the words that were destroyed by breathing new life into a replacement.
When I was in college 6 years ago, I was reading Oscar Wilde and I brought it out to BC to visit my friend Dan. We drank heavily that night and needed something to mix with vodka, so I went and bought a cheap gallon of orange juice. The morning after I took it with me and threw it in my bag so as not to waste it. It popped open and poured a half gallon of orange juice out over everything in my bag. Oscar Wilde was ruined. I never even got a replacement until someone bought me one six months ago after I told them the story. I never thought I'd do the same thing again six months later with something much more dear to me than Oscar Wilde.
I write. When I say that, I mean it in two ways. I write for a living and I also hand write everything. I type what I write in my notebook afterward. In the last week, I wrote two amazing scenes for my novel. They were dramatic and poignant and riveting. I had not had the chance to transpose them into my computer yet. My friends and I planned an excursion last Saturday and alcohol was involved so I put a bottle of Jameson whiskey in my bag. It leaked last night and destroyed my notebook. It is soaked entirely through and half of each page is a blue ball of blurred nothingness. I lost the two scenes.
It is unique because it is ultimately gone: the words I wrote, the language I weaved, the scene I created. They are gone and never to be duplicated or retrieved. It is like the death of a human being. I have never had a child and I have never created something such as this that I have loved like a child. Its death hit me sideways. I will write the scenes over again. The content will be the same. My memory is good enough that it will hold the spirit of the scenes I already wrote. But it will not be the same. The problem with this is that I almost feel like it is a perversion of the memory of the words that were destroyed by breathing new life into a replacement.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Fortune Cookies
Apart from my frustration with U.S. Chinese food and the fact that I can't find a good Mandarin Chinese Dish anywhere: I still love fortune cookies. I don't even eat them, I just crack the cookie open and throw it away. Screw the lucky numbers too, they don't even mean anything. But the fortune inside is the prize. It's like a 50/50 shot that the assortment and sequence of seemingly English words inside actually make sense at all, metaphorically or literally. Which is funny in and of itself, but of the 50% that actually do make linguistic sense there are 10% that are amazingly meaningful because they are insightful, funny and make sense both metaphorically and literally.
Consider the last fortune I opened and proceeded to affix to the dashboard of my car:
Constant grinding can turn an iron rod into a needle.
Fortunes don't get much better than that.
Consider the last fortune I opened and proceeded to affix to the dashboard of my car:
Constant grinding can turn an iron rod into a needle.
Fortunes don't get much better than that.
Friday, August 20, 2010
People and Places
There are 2 types of people in this world: Those who think there are two types of people in this world and those of us who know better.
I generally like to be on the latter end of this Tom Robbins quote. But someone told me this week that there are two types of people in this world: club people and non-club people. I actually happen to agree with it, but I take it one step further.
There are two types of people in this world: people who go somewhere for the people and people who go somewhere for the place.
What I mean by this is simple: I am someone who doesn't give a damn where I am as long as I am with someone whose company I enjoy. I could be sitting in a dumpster on the side of the road and have plenty of fun if I am with someone that interests me.
There is another type of person though. These people need to be somewhere interesting. It doesn't matter who they are with.
So I guess there are two types of people in this world after all.
I generally like to be on the latter end of this Tom Robbins quote. But someone told me this week that there are two types of people in this world: club people and non-club people. I actually happen to agree with it, but I take it one step further.
There are two types of people in this world: people who go somewhere for the people and people who go somewhere for the place.
What I mean by this is simple: I am someone who doesn't give a damn where I am as long as I am with someone whose company I enjoy. I could be sitting in a dumpster on the side of the road and have plenty of fun if I am with someone that interests me.
There is another type of person though. These people need to be somewhere interesting. It doesn't matter who they are with.
So I guess there are two types of people in this world after all.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Cattle and Linguistic Holes
Who in the world ever thought that the linguistic world of the domesticated ungulate Bos Primigenius would be so damn absurd?
Cattle: it's the overarching species term for everything. Cow is a female version of cattle. Bull is a male version of cattle. It should be that simple.
But just you wait.
What is the singular version of the word cattle? There isn't one. so we use......cow.
Q: But wait, isn't that the word for the female?
A: Yeah, we just thought we would confuse native speakers of English with our ridiculous colloquialisms.
Ok, as if that wasn't confusing enough. Look there is a "cow" with horns on its head! That would mean its a bull! Oh wait, gotta check for the testicles before you say that. If its been castrated, it's a steer.
If they are younger cattle then they would be called calves. And the powers that be even thought this one through...at least enough...to have singular calf! But if there is only one male calf, it would still be technically correct for my 3-year old nephew Aaron to point at it and say: "look, a cow!"
But wait, there's more, if a female hasn't given birth to any cattle calves (what I wouldn't give to see a cow give birth to a steer...) AND she is under three years of age, she's not a cow--she's a heifer.
It gets even better.
Q: A heifer who gives birth to a calf is now a cow, right?
A: nah, sometimes they call that a first-calf heifer.
This is ridiculous and makes no linguistic sense. So after all of this, what in the world is an OX??
Frankly, I think we should just call them all "Steak."
Cattle: it's the overarching species term for everything. Cow is a female version of cattle. Bull is a male version of cattle. It should be that simple.
But just you wait.
What is the singular version of the word cattle? There isn't one. so we use......cow.
Q: But wait, isn't that the word for the female?
A: Yeah, we just thought we would confuse native speakers of English with our ridiculous colloquialisms.
Ok, as if that wasn't confusing enough. Look there is a "cow" with horns on its head! That would mean its a bull! Oh wait, gotta check for the testicles before you say that. If its been castrated, it's a steer.
If they are younger cattle then they would be called calves. And the powers that be even thought this one through...at least enough...to have singular calf! But if there is only one male calf, it would still be technically correct for my 3-year old nephew Aaron to point at it and say: "look, a cow!"
But wait, there's more, if a female hasn't given birth to any cattle calves (what I wouldn't give to see a cow give birth to a steer...) AND she is under three years of age, she's not a cow--she's a heifer.
It gets even better.
Q: A heifer who gives birth to a calf is now a cow, right?
A: nah, sometimes they call that a first-calf heifer.
This is ridiculous and makes no linguistic sense. So after all of this, what in the world is an OX??
Frankly, I think we should just call them all "Steak."
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Almost a Rap
I want to write.
I love to write.
Just give me a topic
Or a page that's white.
The words will dance
And weave with sin.
Leave a tapestry of black
On its iv'ry laden skin.
The rising action falls
With unequivocal aplomb.
The climax hits your eyeballs
Like a freak atomic bomb.
The story comes together
In a way you've never seen.
Guns flashing from leather
As if Clint Eastwood's on the scene.
Last word slides across
Your retinas' tides.
Knockin' you crosswise
As your legs capsize.
Words ne'er put together before,
Each a brick in a bridge
Laid timeless 'cross a ridge
Connectin' my mind to yours.
I love to write.
Just give me a topic
Or a page that's white.
The words will dance
And weave with sin.
Leave a tapestry of black
On its iv'ry laden skin.
The rising action falls
With unequivocal aplomb.
The climax hits your eyeballs
Like a freak atomic bomb.
The story comes together
In a way you've never seen.
Guns flashing from leather
As if Clint Eastwood's on the scene.
Last word slides across
Your retinas' tides.
Knockin' you crosswise
As your legs capsize.
Words ne'er put together before,
Each a brick in a bridge
Laid timeless 'cross a ridge
Connectin' my mind to yours.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
My Own Little Movies
The human brain works in weird ways. Especially when it comes to dreaming. There are so many weird options, it's like a natural movie in your head that involves every single person you have met in your life. It involves memories you may not even remember.
It involves motor skills and things you have never learned. I've been skiing in a dream and I can't ski.
It involves random people you haven't thought about in years. In the past two weeks, I've dreamed about two people that I haven't talked to or thought about in over 7 years and 9 years respectively. Makes me wonder what random person I met 4 years ago might have had a dream that I starred in last night.
It lets you relive great experiences. It lets you live out fantasies that you will never approach in reality. I flew outside the atmosphere in a dream and I don't mean in an airplane or a spaceship. I looked at the Earth from so far away it looked like a pea, and then flew back down to it. That one happened to be lucid, which is another issue that is amazing about dreams.
Dreams are like breathing. They work on their own, completely autonomously, except when all of a sudden, you figure out you are dreaming and think "I'm taking the reins now" It's like starring in the movie and then deciding you want to be director and producer as well.
It involves motor skills and things you have never learned. I've been skiing in a dream and I can't ski.
It involves random people you haven't thought about in years. In the past two weeks, I've dreamed about two people that I haven't talked to or thought about in over 7 years and 9 years respectively. Makes me wonder what random person I met 4 years ago might have had a dream that I starred in last night.
It lets you relive great experiences. It lets you live out fantasies that you will never approach in reality. I flew outside the atmosphere in a dream and I don't mean in an airplane or a spaceship. I looked at the Earth from so far away it looked like a pea, and then flew back down to it. That one happened to be lucid, which is another issue that is amazing about dreams.
Dreams are like breathing. They work on their own, completely autonomously, except when all of a sudden, you figure out you are dreaming and think "I'm taking the reins now" It's like starring in the movie and then deciding you want to be director and producer as well.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Smell My Music
Music and smell have an odd common thread. They seem directly linked to memory. Nothing else brings out a seemingly buried memory quite like a distinctive smell or a certain chord.
Smells can bring out memories like almost nothing else. The smell of a country. The smell of a house. The smell of a piece of clothing. The very tinge of something familiar can bring back memories so old that they are not even conscious. The only thing that comes close to smell is the specific note and chord progression of a song. That is, if the song is infused with meaning from a distinctly memorable event.
So how long does it take for a song to stop reminding you of a lost love? I can tell you from experience that 10 years isn't long enough and I have an inkling the actual answer is never. I have a hunch that whether it is tomorrow or 20 years from now, every time I hear the opening guitar riff of "Bent" by Matchbox 20, I will be thrown back to being 16 years old and lying in the sand with Mary.
Smells can bring out memories like almost nothing else. The smell of a country. The smell of a house. The smell of a piece of clothing. The very tinge of something familiar can bring back memories so old that they are not even conscious. The only thing that comes close to smell is the specific note and chord progression of a song. That is, if the song is infused with meaning from a distinctly memorable event.
So how long does it take for a song to stop reminding you of a lost love? I can tell you from experience that 10 years isn't long enough and I have an inkling the actual answer is never. I have a hunch that whether it is tomorrow or 20 years from now, every time I hear the opening guitar riff of "Bent" by Matchbox 20, I will be thrown back to being 16 years old and lying in the sand with Mary.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Blame it on my Blasphemy
Why is defiling a church so much fun? What is it about the pious that makes them so entertaining to screw with?
I count successes by the amount of times I hear, "Oh, that's terrible" from a random person I don't know. I used to and still have a natural feeling of not wanting to look stupid, but I learned a long time ago that me looking stupid means other people get to laugh.
It's terrible how much fun piety prevents people from having. You should never have anything in your life that can't be joked about. If I had a mantra, that would be it. I'm not saying it is easy, there are things that human beings are embarrassed about. There are things humans are afraid of. There are things human beings are ashamed of.
Here's a secret if you didn't already know it: laughter takes the power out of serious. When you can laugh about something, it just doesn't seem so crucial anymore. Laughter is the mixture of light and dark; the only place where good and bad mix. If there is something that deserves to be called god, it would be seen through laughter.
So when I see a church, with a bunch of people who think it is critical to life to take your hat off inside, (or some other illogical sign of respect that has nothing to do with respect) I choose to have fun and go buy a sombrero. Or jump in the pulpit. Or feel up a statue.
Don't take life too seriously, you'll never get out of it alive.
I count successes by the amount of times I hear, "Oh, that's terrible" from a random person I don't know. I used to and still have a natural feeling of not wanting to look stupid, but I learned a long time ago that me looking stupid means other people get to laugh.
It's terrible how much fun piety prevents people from having. You should never have anything in your life that can't be joked about. If I had a mantra, that would be it. I'm not saying it is easy, there are things that human beings are embarrassed about. There are things humans are afraid of. There are things human beings are ashamed of.
Here's a secret if you didn't already know it: laughter takes the power out of serious. When you can laugh about something, it just doesn't seem so crucial anymore. Laughter is the mixture of light and dark; the only place where good and bad mix. If there is something that deserves to be called god, it would be seen through laughter.
So when I see a church, with a bunch of people who think it is critical to life to take your hat off inside, (or some other illogical sign of respect that has nothing to do with respect) I choose to have fun and go buy a sombrero. Or jump in the pulpit. Or feel up a statue.
Don't take life too seriously, you'll never get out of it alive.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Hypocrisy
One of the biggest themes in my life is hypocrisy and how human it is. I don't consider it bad, even though most people do. Hypocrisy to me is ultimately ironic and doesn't have anything to do with conscious choice. The event that has produced this line of thought lately is the seeming contradiction of my nature regarding germs and sickness.
I am the absolute opposite of a germaphobe. I have absolutely no qualms about getting dirty, being around germs, eating undercooked meat, etc. I was like this before I traveled around Asia, but I will admit that broke down a few barriers I didn't even know I had when it comes to dealing with germs. I find almost nothing disgusting.
The irony of this is that I am a raging hypochondriac. I start reading about some kind of disease, and I automatically start having every single symptom. I even start remembering having some of the symptoms before I read it.
"Holy crap, my left arm hurt slightly last week and I had a headache last month, I think I have Japanese Encephalitis B!" Absolutely ridiculous, but that's the way my brain has been programmed to work.
Ironically, and perhaps hypocritically, it never connects the two. I have never been exposed to germs because of my carelessness about being exposed to them and then had an attack of hypochondria as a direct result of it. Seems weird.
I am the absolute opposite of a germaphobe. I have absolutely no qualms about getting dirty, being around germs, eating undercooked meat, etc. I was like this before I traveled around Asia, but I will admit that broke down a few barriers I didn't even know I had when it comes to dealing with germs. I find almost nothing disgusting.
The irony of this is that I am a raging hypochondriac. I start reading about some kind of disease, and I automatically start having every single symptom. I even start remembering having some of the symptoms before I read it.
"Holy crap, my left arm hurt slightly last week and I had a headache last month, I think I have Japanese Encephalitis B!" Absolutely ridiculous, but that's the way my brain has been programmed to work.
Ironically, and perhaps hypocritically, it never connects the two. I have never been exposed to germs because of my carelessness about being exposed to them and then had an attack of hypochondria as a direct result of it. Seems weird.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Go Defy Death
Regrets are as pointless as mistakenly believing you have free will.
They both assume that there is an alternative to the one timeline that there is. Time is linear. It isn't circular. It isn't parallel. Time travel is impossible since time doesn't exist. Since there is only one way something could have happened, choice is irrelevant and there is no point in regretting anything. There is only one way it possibly could happen anyway; the way it does.
For that matter, there is no fate or destiny. Get over yourself and go make things happen, just don't believe there might have been any alternative to what happens.
Does it sound impossible for me to believe at the same time that there is no destiny and also no free will? Chalk it up to: Paradox.
Carpe Diem, Baby. Death doesn't make life pointless, it gives it its only point.
Go defy death today.
They both assume that there is an alternative to the one timeline that there is. Time is linear. It isn't circular. It isn't parallel. Time travel is impossible since time doesn't exist. Since there is only one way something could have happened, choice is irrelevant and there is no point in regretting anything. There is only one way it possibly could happen anyway; the way it does.
For that matter, there is no fate or destiny. Get over yourself and go make things happen, just don't believe there might have been any alternative to what happens.
Does it sound impossible for me to believe at the same time that there is no destiny and also no free will? Chalk it up to: Paradox.
Carpe Diem, Baby. Death doesn't make life pointless, it gives it its only point.
Go defy death today.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Moderation Sucks
Everything in Moderation. Great minds of the past have preached this without ceasing.
"Whatever you do, do it in moderation" ~Proverb
"Never go to excess, but let moderation be your guide." ~Cicero
"Moderation is commonly firm, and firmness is commonly successful." ~Samuel Johnson
"Temperance and labor are the two best physicians of man; labor sharpens the appetite, and temperance prevents from indulging to excess." ~Jean-Jacques Rousseau
"Moderation is the center wherein all philosophies, both human and divine, meet" ~Benjamin Disraeli
In my mind, these "great" minds have completely missed the point and successfully proven that they are in fact, only good minds.
I prefer to listen to the likes of Oscar Wilde and others like him:
"Moderation is a fatal thing. Nothing succeeds like excess." ~Oscar Wilde
"Moderation is a virtue only in those who are thought to have an alternative" ~Henry Kissinger
"Moderation has been called a virtue to limit the ambition of great men, and to console undistinguished people for their want of fortune and lack of merit." ~Benjamin Disraeli
Seems that Benjamin Disraeli might have a great mind after all. Hypocrisy is the most human of all traits.
Moderation is terrible. Hedonism is awesome.
"Whatever you do, do it in moderation" ~Proverb
"Never go to excess, but let moderation be your guide." ~Cicero
"Moderation is commonly firm, and firmness is commonly successful." ~Samuel Johnson
"Temperance and labor are the two best physicians of man; labor sharpens the appetite, and temperance prevents from indulging to excess." ~Jean-Jacques Rousseau
"Moderation is the center wherein all philosophies, both human and divine, meet" ~Benjamin Disraeli
In my mind, these "great" minds have completely missed the point and successfully proven that they are in fact, only good minds.
I prefer to listen to the likes of Oscar Wilde and others like him:
"Moderation is a fatal thing. Nothing succeeds like excess." ~Oscar Wilde
"Moderation is a virtue only in those who are thought to have an alternative" ~Henry Kissinger
"Moderation has been called a virtue to limit the ambition of great men, and to console undistinguished people for their want of fortune and lack of merit." ~Benjamin Disraeli
Seems that Benjamin Disraeli might have a great mind after all. Hypocrisy is the most human of all traits.
Moderation is terrible. Hedonism is awesome.
Monday, August 2, 2010
C'mon Baby, Light My Fire
I like debates. I like watching the fire in someone's eyes when they are attempting to prove me wrong and convince me of something I don't agree with. Call me weird, but I love it when a really high-tension topic like abortion rights comes up in mixed company. I like to see people fired up and under pressure. It's interesting. Light a fire under people and see what boils.
For this reason, I love talking about politics. Politics have a few unique qualities that make for interesting conversation on the topic.
First off, politics at their roots are supposed to forge policy for the way constituents live their lives within the country's borders. Second, politics rarely have anything to do with our daily lives. Third, the people talking about politics usually have no understanding, influence, or say in the matter themselves. (don't kid yourself, voting doesn't matter in a republic and we don't live in a democracy) Fourth, it is one of those topics that can start a fight among the most "civilized" of people.
I miss China, but one thing that I happen not to miss is the complete apathy toward anything having to do with politics. The best Chinese friend I have became so because he liked to talk about politics. The reason this is weird is because, and I can't imagine why, but in broaching the topic with Chinese people, the answer is inevitably the same: politics are boring. I get that the propaganda machine made it that way, but it is still quite a divergence from my norm.
For this reason, I love talking about politics. Politics have a few unique qualities that make for interesting conversation on the topic.
First off, politics at their roots are supposed to forge policy for the way constituents live their lives within the country's borders. Second, politics rarely have anything to do with our daily lives. Third, the people talking about politics usually have no understanding, influence, or say in the matter themselves. (don't kid yourself, voting doesn't matter in a republic and we don't live in a democracy) Fourth, it is one of those topics that can start a fight among the most "civilized" of people.
I miss China, but one thing that I happen not to miss is the complete apathy toward anything having to do with politics. The best Chinese friend I have became so because he liked to talk about politics. The reason this is weird is because, and I can't imagine why, but in broaching the topic with Chinese people, the answer is inevitably the same: politics are boring. I get that the propaganda machine made it that way, but it is still quite a divergence from my norm.
Friday, July 30, 2010
If You are Easily Offended or Cannot Think Abstractly, Do Not Read This.
Statutory Rape. I've had numerous conversations about this topic in my life. Mainly because guys are so afraid of unwittingly committing it. I'll preface this post by saying I hold rape as one of the worst crimes that can possibly be committed. Statutory rape is different, strictly because it can happen with no intent. And that is what I find so interesting and where the irony comes in.
There is a lot of irony contained within the sphere of statutory rape law. Statutory rape law is an interesting topic, to say the least. I'm sure a lawyer or law student could inform me of my ignorance, but, statutory rape law is the only law I know of where you do not have to be cognizant of the act you are committing to be guilty nor have the intent to commit a criminal act. If unwitting statutory rape isn't at the top of the list of "guy's worst nightmares" it has to be in the top 3.
I'm definitively not saying that there are no guys out there guilty of knowingly committing acts of pedophilia. In those cases, jail isn't even far enough as a punishment. The rub is that philosophically, biologically, socially, culturally, legally, and humanly aspects of the situation are not completely in tune with each other on the subject.
Consider this scenario inspired by a friend of mine (in conversation, not act):
A bar (in California, where the age of consent is 18) allows a 17 year old girl under the age of 21 into its establishment because she has a fake id.
The 17 year old girl is knowingly entering an establishment against the law.
A guy who is a legal patron of the bar is attracted to her and assumes that she is over the age of 21 because she is in a bar, and sleeps with her.
In this scenario, who is the most likely to go to jail?
There are a lot of ironic points here, but there is one that I find really interesting. The severity of punishment is inversely related to the burden of knowledge of each party.
The girl is the only one committing an illegal act with full knowledge of the fact (regardless of whether there should be a drinking age of 21 in the first place). Yet she would see the lightest punishment if "caught" and be thrown out of the bar and, perhaps in the worst case, stripped of her fake id.
The bar is supposed to have a legal duty as a business to be looking out for illegal entry to their bar. They have legally accepted this responsibility by choosing to create a business in which this stipulation must be followed. If they fail to uphold this social contract, they are fined. In the worst case scenario, they may be shut down after an excessive amount of failures.
The guy, in this particular hypothetical, is guilty of the horrible crime of being attracted to and acting on an attraction to a girl that is sexually mature at the age of 17, in a place of business who have accepted the social responsibility of keeping people under the age of 21 out of their establishment. He has every reason to believe that she is over 21 and is given no reason to doubt it. This man goes to jail and registers as a sex offender for the rest of his life if caught once. That is ironic.
In conversations about the topic, some have said that the guy should ask the girl's age. Here is where some more irony is injected into the situation. Would she really be honest with him if he does? And the best part is that even IF he asks AND she says 23, he'd still be guilty in the eyes of the law. The real ironic point is that he's supposed to ask her how old she is but asking a woman her age is one of the most taboo questions in our society.
Ironic.
There is a lot of irony contained within the sphere of statutory rape law. Statutory rape law is an interesting topic, to say the least. I'm sure a lawyer or law student could inform me of my ignorance, but, statutory rape law is the only law I know of where you do not have to be cognizant of the act you are committing to be guilty nor have the intent to commit a criminal act. If unwitting statutory rape isn't at the top of the list of "guy's worst nightmares" it has to be in the top 3.
I'm definitively not saying that there are no guys out there guilty of knowingly committing acts of pedophilia. In those cases, jail isn't even far enough as a punishment. The rub is that philosophically, biologically, socially, culturally, legally, and humanly aspects of the situation are not completely in tune with each other on the subject.
Consider this scenario inspired by a friend of mine (in conversation, not act):
A bar (in California, where the age of consent is 18) allows a 17 year old girl under the age of 21 into its establishment because she has a fake id.
The 17 year old girl is knowingly entering an establishment against the law.
A guy who is a legal patron of the bar is attracted to her and assumes that she is over the age of 21 because she is in a bar, and sleeps with her.
In this scenario, who is the most likely to go to jail?
There are a lot of ironic points here, but there is one that I find really interesting. The severity of punishment is inversely related to the burden of knowledge of each party.
The girl is the only one committing an illegal act with full knowledge of the fact (regardless of whether there should be a drinking age of 21 in the first place). Yet she would see the lightest punishment if "caught" and be thrown out of the bar and, perhaps in the worst case, stripped of her fake id.
The bar is supposed to have a legal duty as a business to be looking out for illegal entry to their bar. They have legally accepted this responsibility by choosing to create a business in which this stipulation must be followed. If they fail to uphold this social contract, they are fined. In the worst case scenario, they may be shut down after an excessive amount of failures.
The guy, in this particular hypothetical, is guilty of the horrible crime of being attracted to and acting on an attraction to a girl that is sexually mature at the age of 17, in a place of business who have accepted the social responsibility of keeping people under the age of 21 out of their establishment. He has every reason to believe that she is over 21 and is given no reason to doubt it. This man goes to jail and registers as a sex offender for the rest of his life if caught once. That is ironic.
In conversations about the topic, some have said that the guy should ask the girl's age. Here is where some more irony is injected into the situation. Would she really be honest with him if he does? And the best part is that even IF he asks AND she says 23, he'd still be guilty in the eyes of the law. The real ironic point is that he's supposed to ask her how old she is but asking a woman her age is one of the most taboo questions in our society.
Ironic.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
A New Old Calling
I have been and continue to be lost. My life is decently aimless. I have penchants and inklings, but no hard and fast direction. I have been wandering for years, mainly since I graduated from college. I was called out on this once as if it were a bad thing. It was the first time I considered that it might be a bad thing. It has its drawbacks, but in general, I don't see any problem with it. Given the alternative, I'd rather be wandering and finding myself. At 26, if I knew exactly who I was and where I was going, what would be the point of going on?
Instead, I have no idea where I'm going and, in the words of Seinfeld's J. Peterman, that's the best way to get somewhere you've never been. I'll consider myself lucky if I can still wander and be lost if I make it to 40 and beyond.
The impetus for this musing, though, is actually that I have a direction for the first time in my life. It happened last week, when driving home from the coffee house where I was writing. The fibers of my novel's plot had just started weaving themselves together in a beautiful way that I could have never imagined when I started it. It gradually hit me all of a sudden and it almost brought a tear to my eye. If it is at all possible within the realm of reason, I will be a writer; a novelist. I have actually felt for the first time ever the pull of a professional calling. I will pursue it to the ends of the Earth, but in every other aspect, I will remain blissfully lost for as long as possible.
Instead, I have no idea where I'm going and, in the words of Seinfeld's J. Peterman, that's the best way to get somewhere you've never been. I'll consider myself lucky if I can still wander and be lost if I make it to 40 and beyond.
The impetus for this musing, though, is actually that I have a direction for the first time in my life. It happened last week, when driving home from the coffee house where I was writing. The fibers of my novel's plot had just started weaving themselves together in a beautiful way that I could have never imagined when I started it. It gradually hit me all of a sudden and it almost brought a tear to my eye. If it is at all possible within the realm of reason, I will be a writer; a novelist. I have actually felt for the first time ever the pull of a professional calling. I will pursue it to the ends of the Earth, but in every other aspect, I will remain blissfully lost for as long as possible.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Warmth of Sunshine
I wish I had a dog. I like cats too, but just not as much as dogs. I've experienced both, and for my money, it's an awesome feeling when you are sitting on a couch editing your novel and a 2 month old puppy walks over and snuggles in next to you and falls asleep. It's just comforting, not to mention she makes the scene.
I wish I had a picture of it, but the best I can do is a word picture.
I am sitting in a coffee shop with my mug of coffee steaming on the table to my right, a slight drizzle is falling outside and the 25 pages I am currently editing is lying in my lap. The pen is behind my ear as I am slightly bent over the partial manuscript while a light brown puppy the size of a shoebox with light blue eyes the color of the Autumn sky lies curled up flush with my left hip. My left hand scratching behind his ear as my right turns the pages and brings the coffee cup to my lips every once in a while.
These are the exact times that I wish I had a dog of my own. No wonder the puppy's name is Sunshine.
I wish I had a picture of it, but the best I can do is a word picture.
I am sitting in a coffee shop with my mug of coffee steaming on the table to my right, a slight drizzle is falling outside and the 25 pages I am currently editing is lying in my lap. The pen is behind my ear as I am slightly bent over the partial manuscript while a light brown puppy the size of a shoebox with light blue eyes the color of the Autumn sky lies curled up flush with my left hip. My left hand scratching behind his ear as my right turns the pages and brings the coffee cup to my lips every once in a while.
These are the exact times that I wish I had a dog of my own. No wonder the puppy's name is Sunshine.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Common Language of Travel
If you have never traveled anywhere, it is hard to speak with someone who has. I've spent practically every evening this week at a local coffee shop called the Drama Cup(previously known as the Muddy Cup). I go there to write and it is the perfect environment in which to do so. I've talked to the owner sparingly until last night when we sat down and talked for a few hours.
What was the impetus for this conversation? He had just bought a new 2-month old puppy.
What kept the conversation going though? He had lived in foreign countries and I've just gotten back from doing the same thing.
The very interesting thing is that our experiences in those foreign countries could not have been more different. My budget was limited and I lived very well while I was there, but definitively more "local". His experience was spending a ridiculous amount of money (think six figures) in the span of three months in Thailand. In any other context, this would most likely kill sociability. But we were talking about traveling. So it didn't even make a difference. We shared stories and coincidentally talked about how hard it is to relate the experience to someone who has not traveled.
It has nothing to do with elitism, if it sounds that way. It's just common ground. Traveling has a way of putting things in a certain perspective that you can't really relate to if you haven't. I can say this having been in both positions in my life. I feel privileged though to now be on the side of those who have traveled simply because I like the fact that I have. The only question I have to put to rest now is when I can make my next trip outside the U.S. border.
What was the impetus for this conversation? He had just bought a new 2-month old puppy.
What kept the conversation going though? He had lived in foreign countries and I've just gotten back from doing the same thing.
The very interesting thing is that our experiences in those foreign countries could not have been more different. My budget was limited and I lived very well while I was there, but definitively more "local". His experience was spending a ridiculous amount of money (think six figures) in the span of three months in Thailand. In any other context, this would most likely kill sociability. But we were talking about traveling. So it didn't even make a difference. We shared stories and coincidentally talked about how hard it is to relate the experience to someone who has not traveled.
It has nothing to do with elitism, if it sounds that way. It's just common ground. Traveling has a way of putting things in a certain perspective that you can't really relate to if you haven't. I can say this having been in both positions in my life. I feel privileged though to now be on the side of those who have traveled simply because I like the fact that I have. The only question I have to put to rest now is when I can make my next trip outside the U.S. border.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Writer's Block
Irony Incarnate. I am writing about writer's block. I've had it when it comes to blogging for about a week now. I just don't have any idea what to write about. I've still been writing, but the well has been drying up in more than one avenue. I still write and think about my novel. I still outline and plan. But I haven't had anything to write about in my blog. And I haven't been able to write a new poem in about a month. The well is drying for the moment. The simple answer is that I'd rather be out drinking a beer than typing into a computer at the moment, I guess. Though that is, as it sounds, too simple. That has never stopped me from writing before.
I write from experience. Something happens to me, and it inspires me to think about something. I have been simply experiencing though. Lately, I have just been living. Outside my head, as it were. I look back over this week of writer's block and think I must have not experienced anything worth writing about. This has been wholly untrue. It was a week that was rife with interesting experiences that should have born a plethora of ideas and thoughts. Instead, I unconsciously chose to forget the the thoughts and memoirs in lieu of just enjoying the moments as they occurred and moving on to the next without romancing the prior.
Hopefully the dam bursts soon. I'd like to incorporate both into my life. Yet sacrificing writing is not an option. However, sacrificing living in the present is not an option either. A battle that clearly needs a peace summit and a treaty to match Versailles.
I write from experience. Something happens to me, and it inspires me to think about something. I have been simply experiencing though. Lately, I have just been living. Outside my head, as it were. I look back over this week of writer's block and think I must have not experienced anything worth writing about. This has been wholly untrue. It was a week that was rife with interesting experiences that should have born a plethora of ideas and thoughts. Instead, I unconsciously chose to forget the the thoughts and memoirs in lieu of just enjoying the moments as they occurred and moving on to the next without romancing the prior.
Hopefully the dam bursts soon. I'd like to incorporate both into my life. Yet sacrificing writing is not an option. However, sacrificing living in the present is not an option either. A battle that clearly needs a peace summit and a treaty to match Versailles.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Past Shackles
We are all slaves to our past. It grounds us and it binds us. Everything we are is a confluence of past occurrences that bubble over into our present circumstances and either builds upon or erodes our past experiences.
If it builds upon our past experiences, it just entrenches us further into who we have become as a result of our past. If it erodes them, it puts a dent in the self that has formed from our past, but also replaces it with more past experiences that shape us in their own way.
How does one split from the past? It is a romantic notion to give up everything:
To go live in a monastery on the top of a mountain in Nepal.
To go live with a tribe in a mud hut in the Savannah.
To permanently move to an entirely new place with new people that is completely and utterly foreign to you.
Or even to move to a place that is familiar to you but the people are not.
The fact remains that most people's past experiences have completely forbidden them from taking this kind of leap. (Incidentally, the very thing that makes the notion quintessentially romantic) They have been programmed to like stability and grounding simply by virtue of the fact that they grew up with it.
If it builds upon our past experiences, it just entrenches us further into who we have become as a result of our past. If it erodes them, it puts a dent in the self that has formed from our past, but also replaces it with more past experiences that shape us in their own way.
How does one split from the past? It is a romantic notion to give up everything:
To go live in a monastery on the top of a mountain in Nepal.
To go live with a tribe in a mud hut in the Savannah.
To permanently move to an entirely new place with new people that is completely and utterly foreign to you.
Or even to move to a place that is familiar to you but the people are not.
The fact remains that most people's past experiences have completely forbidden them from taking this kind of leap. (Incidentally, the very thing that makes the notion quintessentially romantic) They have been programmed to like stability and grounding simply by virtue of the fact that they grew up with it.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Eyes are the Window to the Imagination
Clarity is the enemy of imagination.
I have decently poor eyesight. I correct this when I need to by wearing glasses. "Need to" meaning when I'm driving or playing darts. In general, however, I try not to wear them. The reason behind this is simple; it gives my brain something to do. When I can't see very clearly, my brain tries to fill in the missing pieces. This usually leads to something interesting, because my brain usually fills the square hole with a round peg.
It's perfect when I think I see someone I recognize and go up and talk to them. Usually it turns out to be someone whom I've never met and not even close to looking like who I thought it was. But it just led to me meeting someone I've never met before.
It works with signs too. I try and read them from a distance and, more often than not, I think it says something completely outlandish and ridiculous, only to find out that it is mundane and trite as I get close enough to see what it actually says.
Sometimes I like the world of half reality and half imagination that I live in when I can't see everything so clearly. I wish that I could flip back and forth between clarity and fuzzy with my other senses as well.
I have decently poor eyesight. I correct this when I need to by wearing glasses. "Need to" meaning when I'm driving or playing darts. In general, however, I try not to wear them. The reason behind this is simple; it gives my brain something to do. When I can't see very clearly, my brain tries to fill in the missing pieces. This usually leads to something interesting, because my brain usually fills the square hole with a round peg.
It's perfect when I think I see someone I recognize and go up and talk to them. Usually it turns out to be someone whom I've never met and not even close to looking like who I thought it was. But it just led to me meeting someone I've never met before.
It works with signs too. I try and read them from a distance and, more often than not, I think it says something completely outlandish and ridiculous, only to find out that it is mundane and trite as I get close enough to see what it actually says.
Sometimes I like the world of half reality and half imagination that I live in when I can't see everything so clearly. I wish that I could flip back and forth between clarity and fuzzy with my other senses as well.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
26 Going on 20
The older I get, the more immature I act. I don't say this as a bad thing. I don't place the typical view of maturity very high on the desirable qualities in human beings list. Most people I know who would classify as mature are boring as sin. I have found, however, that as I age, I become less mature. I still act as though I were 21, not 26. I also have a feeling that when I hit 27, I will be acting more like I'm 20.
I still laugh at fart jokes.
I still watch silly cartoons with Bugs Bunny in them.
I still have existential angst.
I still have bouts of nihilism.
I am still stubbornly competitive about stupid things.
I still argue with people strictly for the hell of it.
I hang out with people who are mostly younger than I am.
I don't have an "adult" 9 to 5 job.
I don't want an "adult" 9 to 5 job.
This is only a sampling of my immaturity. I don't mind it though. In fact, I revel in it. The day that I consider myself mature, I might as well check myself right into a cemetery.
I still laugh at fart jokes.
I still watch silly cartoons with Bugs Bunny in them.
I still have existential angst.
I still have bouts of nihilism.
I am still stubbornly competitive about stupid things.
I still argue with people strictly for the hell of it.
I hang out with people who are mostly younger than I am.
I don't have an "adult" 9 to 5 job.
I don't want an "adult" 9 to 5 job.
This is only a sampling of my immaturity. I don't mind it though. In fact, I revel in it. The day that I consider myself mature, I might as well check myself right into a cemetery.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Go Chase Down a Deer With a Spear
People love setting artificial challenges for themselves. I think it is because there is very little real challenge in our present lives. Not to say that people do not struggle, but for most of us, there is no real life endangering struggle in our everyday lives. The fact that we can walk to the refrigerator and we don't have to tie a sharp object onto a stick and go run after a deer so that we can eat to stay alive every day makes life a little more casual.
So we make ourselves live up to our little artificial challenges.
Diets.
Working out.
No Alcohol.
No Drugs.
Abstinence.
No Smoking.
No Spending Money.
No Eating Meat.
Learn a New Skill.
Be More Organized.
Be Less Shy.
Help Others More.
Run an 8 minute mile.
Just a few of the more obvious ones that we use to make it seem like we are living up to a challenge that really isn't biologically present anymore. It isn't good or bad necessarily, just a fact of present life. We have the ability to be bored and, thankfully, most of us strive to be less boring through these kinds of challenges.
So we make ourselves live up to our little artificial challenges.
Diets.
Working out.
No Alcohol.
No Drugs.
Abstinence.
No Smoking.
No Spending Money.
No Eating Meat.
Learn a New Skill.
Be More Organized.
Be Less Shy.
Help Others More.
Run an 8 minute mile.
Just a few of the more obvious ones that we use to make it seem like we are living up to a challenge that really isn't biologically present anymore. It isn't good or bad necessarily, just a fact of present life. We have the ability to be bored and, thankfully, most of us strive to be less boring through these kinds of challenges.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Know Thyself?
The grandest illusion anyone can have is the fallacious belief that they know anything about who they are.
What makes a person who they are? What gives a human being their identity?
Choices they make?
Actions they take?
Thoughts they may have?
Whatever makes them laugh?
Things that make them cry?
Or is it whenever they lie?
The only truth lies in the fact that you have no idea what you will do in a given situation until you are placed in it and act. Even then, faced with the same situation again, you still don't know if you will act in the same manner you did the first time. The good part about this is that it certainly makes life more interesting.
What makes a person who they are? What gives a human being their identity?
Choices they make?
Actions they take?
Thoughts they may have?
Whatever makes them laugh?
Things that make them cry?
Or is it whenever they lie?
The only truth lies in the fact that you have no idea what you will do in a given situation until you are placed in it and act. Even then, faced with the same situation again, you still don't know if you will act in the same manner you did the first time. The good part about this is that it certainly makes life more interesting.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Unrelated Family
Sometimes I don't really think we are that far removed from tribal days. This has good and bad connotations. One of the good ones, in my opinion, has to do with community based mentalities. If you've taken a grade school history course, you have probably been taught about communities in which children are raised not only by their personal nuclear family, but the extended family, friends, and the community itself. There is a generally held belief that this kind of education and community has dissolved in progress, the shrinking of the nuclear family, the advent of suburbs and urban sprawl.
To a certain extent, I understand, accept, and agree with this sentiment. However, while familial ties outside the nuclear family have become more transitory. This is necessarily so since people have the ability to be more transitory. As a result of technology that has stripped a trip across the world down to 18 hours rather than 18 years. The side effect of this transitory nature is that familial connections in this modern world can evaporate and also manifest at any point.
There are two sides to this coin. It means that you could be inculcated in a family that does not your blood; which is good. It also means that because of many different reasons other than death, you could lose that new family. It's painful. A pain that probably wasn't felt in the same way back when community was necessarily prized so highly.
The only good result of losing a gained family is that you are forced to rely on others that you may have forgotten about and also make connections to new ones. Nothing ever replaces the loss of a family, but it certainly gives you the strength to overcome it.
To a certain extent, I understand, accept, and agree with this sentiment. However, while familial ties outside the nuclear family have become more transitory. This is necessarily so since people have the ability to be more transitory. As a result of technology that has stripped a trip across the world down to 18 hours rather than 18 years. The side effect of this transitory nature is that familial connections in this modern world can evaporate and also manifest at any point.
There are two sides to this coin. It means that you could be inculcated in a family that does not your blood; which is good. It also means that because of many different reasons other than death, you could lose that new family. It's painful. A pain that probably wasn't felt in the same way back when community was necessarily prized so highly.
The only good result of losing a gained family is that you are forced to rely on others that you may have forgotten about and also make connections to new ones. Nothing ever replaces the loss of a family, but it certainly gives you the strength to overcome it.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Drop the Fork
Fat is considered one of the greatest insults you can tag someone with in America. This is doubly so for women in America. If you are on the fence about the truth of this statement, imagine a man walking up to a woman and calling her fat, he'd be lucky to escape with both of his eyes and his testicles intact.
Considering the fact that "fat" is one of the biggest insults you can hurl at someone in America, it always seems to either hit too hard or not hit at all. There are an immense amount of fat people in this country who are simply doing nothing about the fact. The insult just has no effect whatsoever.
The insult truly hits home when used on people who actually are not fat. It is an odd paradox, but the insult rings true to people who are not fat but who are not naturally very skinny. This evolves into nasty results like eating disorders, low self-esteem, and an unwillingness to accept it when others tell them that they, in fact, are not obese, fat, nor overweight.
Personally, I paradoxically wish the word "fat" in America held more power and less power at the same time.
Considering the fact that "fat" is one of the biggest insults you can hurl at someone in America, it always seems to either hit too hard or not hit at all. There are an immense amount of fat people in this country who are simply doing nothing about the fact. The insult just has no effect whatsoever.
The insult truly hits home when used on people who actually are not fat. It is an odd paradox, but the insult rings true to people who are not fat but who are not naturally very skinny. This evolves into nasty results like eating disorders, low self-esteem, and an unwillingness to accept it when others tell them that they, in fact, are not obese, fat, nor overweight.
Personally, I paradoxically wish the word "fat" in America held more power and less power at the same time.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Puzzle Me This
I love puzzles. They occupy my brain, which is normally in overdrive at all points of the day. Any form of competition-based activity that involves some sort of solution requiring some abstract and logical thinking will do. This can range between crossword puzzles, sudoku, acrostics, scrabble, cranium, darts, pool, golf, or balderdash. I have yet to meet someone who can last longer finding enjoyment while doing puzzles or playing games.
Honestly, I'm not sure I understand people who don't like playing games and doing puzzles. It stimulates your brain and provides healthy competition between people. I'd even go so far as to say that puzzles and games are even better than sports in the competition department. Since you can actually talk to your opponents and teammates about things other than the game you are playing while you are playing (try doing that in the middle of a basketball game) and because its usually not as cutthroat. If you lose a chess game, it isn't that big of a deal. When someone loses a baseball game most people will be a little more upset than if they lose a game of darts.
Honestly, I'm not sure I understand people who don't like playing games and doing puzzles. It stimulates your brain and provides healthy competition between people. I'd even go so far as to say that puzzles and games are even better than sports in the competition department. Since you can actually talk to your opponents and teammates about things other than the game you are playing while you are playing (try doing that in the middle of a basketball game) and because its usually not as cutthroat. If you lose a chess game, it isn't that big of a deal. When someone loses a baseball game most people will be a little more upset than if they lose a game of darts.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)