Friday, April 13, 2007
sacred prostitution
Can you get closer to God through selling your body? Is there such a thing as sacred prostitution? The sacrifice of one’s self and body for a divinity. Maria’s Ralf brought up an interesting point this morning. “The great historian, Herodotus wrote of Babylonia: ‘They have a strange custom here, by which every woman born in Sumeria is obliged, at least once in her lifetime, to go to the temple of the goddess Ishtar and give her body to a stranger, as a symbol of hospitality and for a symbolic price.’" Ralf goes on... "later on though during the Roman Empire, another goddess, Vesta demanded total virginity or total surrender” It follows suit then that eventually total surrender was dropped and total virginity was the way it went. It's strange that a concept that lasted not for centuries but millennia was replaced by a mentality that labels sexuality and religion as mutually exclusive. It's also interesting to me that various religions handle sexuality in different ways. The dominant world religions treat sexuality as (at best) a distraction from the spiritual path. On the other hand, some spiritual traditions integrate sexuality into their spiritual practice. Some regard sexuality as an integral part of life, a gift to be honored and enjoyed while other view it as an evil that must be avoided at all costs. And somewhere between the total enjoyment of sexuality and that of abstinence lies the middle ground of rules that govern sexual activity. I drew upon all I’ve encountered in the past and how they relate to this concept and realized that it is very much viewed in a different light depending on where you’re coming from. Whether it be Christianity and Islam’s vow of celibacy outside the context of a marriage, Socrates’ persistence that the body hinders the arrival at truth because of sexual desire, or a Jehovah’s witness I met on a bus once who proudly proclaimed he was dating 7 girls at the same time to fulfill his religion it slowly started to dawn on me that this definitely wasn’t a black and white issue.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Ma bookstore lacking on bullshit
The bookstore is out of “on bullshit” again and I’m starting to get the sense that acquiring and reading this little essay is going to prove to be extremely anti-climactic after all this “waitin…. and wishin… and hopin… and prayin” (sung to a tune of a musical or movie or something whose name eludes me now). I bought “Fear and Trembling” by Soren Kierkegaard instead who asks: “If there were no eternal consciousness in a (wo)man, if at the bottom of everything, there were only a wild ferment, a power that twisting in dark passions produced everything great or inconsequential; if an unfathomable insatiable emptiness lay hid beneath everything, what would life be but despair?”. I’ve been toying with all sorts of basic philosophical ideas but am finding within them extreme complexity. On my last visit to the bookstore before today I picked up a little golden book that read “Truth”. I will admit that though any philosophy lover knows the topic has been done to death and the chances of reading anything “new” on the subject are slim to none, I couldn’t resist the urge to own the little cute thing. I wanted to own the golden “Truth”. Strange on its own everyone knows you can’t really own truth and if for arguments sake you could there wouldn’t be A golden truth, they’re subjective. Regardless, though pretty, as anticipated, the book delivered absolutely nothing new. Examining the reasons why we value truth and how the lack of it in our lives creates a disorder, a realm where nothing is verifiable, where outcome can not be predicted and trust is lacking. Giving credit where it’s due, I should say that the author did touch on ONE interesting point however. Is truth out there and waiting to be discovered or is it internalized relative to our reality? This made me question if anyone can really arrive at the truth or are we all constrained and controlled by our innate nature and belief system. Can anyone really find a truth they are unwilling to see when they do not have the belief system already in place for them to arrive at a conclusion extremely different from the one they were previously at? Or was Socrates completely right when he said that in order for us to attain the truth we must rid ourselves of the hindrance that is our body? …..
Purgitory
Call it extreme enlightenment or boredom, whichever suites your fancy depending on your personality's inclination towards the hole or the doughnut, it occurred to me that the Eagles' hotel California and U2's Stuck in a moment are both strokes of genius. Not because they've been played out to death and the melodies are resonate in your mind long after the song is done but because of their ability to capture the "in between". Its easy to write a song about your masochistic love affair and how u drilled a wire through your cheek (blue October), or about how you decided to teach your cheating boyfriend a lesson by digging your key into the side of his supped up 4 wheel drive, carving your name into his leather seats, taking a Louisville slugger to both headlights and slashing a hole in all 4 tires (Carrie Underwood), or how with every word, every smile, every glance, every caress you come closer to the water drinking your lovers kisses (Lhasa De Sela), or how when she kisses you everyone sighs and though u close your eyes you see la vie en rose (Louis Armstrong). BUT how many times do you hear a song, or read a book, or watch a movie about the calm between the storms, the dullness between the winter and spring, the uneventful mundane between amazing success and subzero failure? If you think about it you’ll be able to relate this idea of purgatory to different aspects of everything . You’ll soon see that we spend most of our lives neither here nor there. Toying with shades of grey. Not 100% happy nor a 100% dissatisfied. We linger between the photos we take capturing one memorable moment and the next. We reminisce about relationships that have long since left our lives. We hang out watching the tide roll away and in the midst of it all babies continue to cry over spilt milk. In the comfort of realizing that all things stall, idle, pause and linger I have discovered a new found affinity for the "in between".
Friday, March 16, 2007
"Bechara" Ned (Poor Ned)
Conversations of pets and animal habits over coffee last weekend reminded me of a story from my childhood I’d totally forgotten about. I’d engaged in many ridiculously WRONG actions and I figure it’s time to confess.
So… voila:
I went to boarding school from grades 7- 9 here in Canada while my parents lived across the Atlantic somewhere. My brother and I would make this journey across the seas twice a year, once at Christmas time and once during the summer. My little sister, way too young to be at boarding school, remained with my parents and would miss us immensely. So the first summer back my brother and I convened at the shopping centre to buy a gift for our younger sister. I must have been 14 at the most and he was 11. We scoured the mall for hours upon hours in an attempt to find something within the budget we’d set out for this endeavor. One can only imagine this amount was peanuts. So after coming to the conclusion that we couldn’t afford anything of value we decided to step into the pet store to check out the puppies. To our pleasant surprise they had hamsters on sale for exactly $6 dollars. Mind you these were vermin who had over fluffed fur but we didn’t care at the time. AWWW how cute its soft and cuddly and its alive. Our excitement reached its peak when we realized with our change not only did we get food for the furry fellow but could manage to get a shiny red cage for him/ her as well! We got back home just in time to catch our shuttle ride to the airport. Bags packed and cage wrapped, my brother and I faced an unplanned obstacle. How would we carry this hamster into the airplane across the Atlantic and into our parents home? Being the “genius” that I am, I figured I’d give it a sleeping pill.. put it in a make up bag or something of the likes in my carry on luggage and life would be good! Course a full sleeping pill might kill the poor thing so I only gave it half… it worked like a charm… we got past airport security don’t ask me how this was obviously pre insanity associated with air travel… buts still I absolutely have noooooooo clue how I managed to get past the sensors without being told that this was a crime of sorts. So there we are on our cross Atlantic flight enjoying the food that comes in those wonderful tin containers when all of a sudden I notice the pouch moving… I immediately start panicking… shiting my pants actually. But I figure the bag is heavy duty enough and it should keep him or her in place till we landed… Having put my “genius” self at ease with this faulty logic, so I decide to take a nap. All of a sudden I wake up to this commotion in the air cabin and my brother is literally in mid air as he pounces on something that is running on the ground. He lands on top of the poor thing and manages not to hurt it.. But the cabin crew has noticed that something is fishy is going on and so come over to see what the commotion was about. I still don’t understand how no one saw the thing run across the floor. Or how no one screamed. Either way, he gets up and goes… “ I was afraid my teddy would fly away” at which point the stewardess smiles with this “he’s so cute with his big eyes” look on her face and brings him back to the seat. He exclaims “you should have given it the whole Pill!” he’s left holding the hamster the rest of the way which, luckily, was approximately half an hour. We land… get out of the airport without a single person questioning the fuzzy ball in his hand… we get home and give the hamster to our sister who is ecstatic. And so we feel this sense of joy come over us as we we’d survived a difficult mission. She named her Ned. She wouldn’t have it any other way even though we repeatedly mentioned the fact that she was a she not a he. A couple of days later we started to notice noises in the middle of the night. It was “Ned”. She was gnawing at the inside of her cage attempting her next escape and in the process keeping us up with the squeaking and scratching her teeth would make on the metal. That summer I d remember distinctly making evil du3a2s every night before bed about that poor thing. When it finally died 2 summers later I couldn’t help but feel responsible. My sister mourned the death with great emotion. She planned a funeral and a ceremony and everything. For two years to come she’d remember the day she died and say she missed her. I have never had the heart to tell my sister about all the horrible things I’d wished upon Ned.
So… voila:
I went to boarding school from grades 7- 9 here in Canada while my parents lived across the Atlantic somewhere. My brother and I would make this journey across the seas twice a year, once at Christmas time and once during the summer. My little sister, way too young to be at boarding school, remained with my parents and would miss us immensely. So the first summer back my brother and I convened at the shopping centre to buy a gift for our younger sister. I must have been 14 at the most and he was 11. We scoured the mall for hours upon hours in an attempt to find something within the budget we’d set out for this endeavor. One can only imagine this amount was peanuts. So after coming to the conclusion that we couldn’t afford anything of value we decided to step into the pet store to check out the puppies. To our pleasant surprise they had hamsters on sale for exactly $6 dollars. Mind you these were vermin who had over fluffed fur but we didn’t care at the time. AWWW how cute its soft and cuddly and its alive. Our excitement reached its peak when we realized with our change not only did we get food for the furry fellow but could manage to get a shiny red cage for him/ her as well! We got back home just in time to catch our shuttle ride to the airport. Bags packed and cage wrapped, my brother and I faced an unplanned obstacle. How would we carry this hamster into the airplane across the Atlantic and into our parents home? Being the “genius” that I am, I figured I’d give it a sleeping pill.. put it in a make up bag or something of the likes in my carry on luggage and life would be good! Course a full sleeping pill might kill the poor thing so I only gave it half… it worked like a charm… we got past airport security don’t ask me how this was obviously pre insanity associated with air travel… buts still I absolutely have noooooooo clue how I managed to get past the sensors without being told that this was a crime of sorts. So there we are on our cross Atlantic flight enjoying the food that comes in those wonderful tin containers when all of a sudden I notice the pouch moving… I immediately start panicking… shiting my pants actually. But I figure the bag is heavy duty enough and it should keep him or her in place till we landed… Having put my “genius” self at ease with this faulty logic, so I decide to take a nap. All of a sudden I wake up to this commotion in the air cabin and my brother is literally in mid air as he pounces on something that is running on the ground. He lands on top of the poor thing and manages not to hurt it.. But the cabin crew has noticed that something is fishy is going on and so come over to see what the commotion was about. I still don’t understand how no one saw the thing run across the floor. Or how no one screamed. Either way, he gets up and goes… “ I was afraid my teddy would fly away” at which point the stewardess smiles with this “he’s so cute with his big eyes” look on her face and brings him back to the seat. He exclaims “you should have given it the whole Pill!” he’s left holding the hamster the rest of the way which, luckily, was approximately half an hour. We land… get out of the airport without a single person questioning the fuzzy ball in his hand… we get home and give the hamster to our sister who is ecstatic. And so we feel this sense of joy come over us as we we’d survived a difficult mission. She named her Ned. She wouldn’t have it any other way even though we repeatedly mentioned the fact that she was a she not a he. A couple of days later we started to notice noises in the middle of the night. It was “Ned”. She was gnawing at the inside of her cage attempting her next escape and in the process keeping us up with the squeaking and scratching her teeth would make on the metal. That summer I d remember distinctly making evil du3a2s every night before bed about that poor thing. When it finally died 2 summers later I couldn’t help but feel responsible. My sister mourned the death with great emotion. She planned a funeral and a ceremony and everything. For two years to come she’d remember the day she died and say she missed her. I have never had the heart to tell my sister about all the horrible things I’d wished upon Ned.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
cause for concern?
I’m not certain if I should be a little concerned for how I oogle, ohh and aww every time I walk into a camera store.
I often catch myself salivating at the sight of a beautifully endowed 8 mega pixel Kodak or Nikon. Mental comparisons of size versus zoom capabilities leave me flustered and a little embarrassed when my thought process is interrupted. I get caught up in this whirlwind of imagination and possibility. The glimmering silver and sexy black casing has me inebriated with glee. I can’t help but feel like the LCD screens look at me with yearning as if to scream out “Use and abuse me! I’ll satisfy you”. I'll often ask to see or hold a camera I like in my hand. I play with it like I'm taking a photo sideways, diagonally and vertically. It's precisely at the moment when my heart skips a beat and I decide "I MUST OWN" this camera that i feel bad for the camera I have back home. It's treated me so well. So what if it's a little out of date and clunky. I haven't fully learnt to appreciate it. There is a wonderful comfort that comes with familiarity.... Why then do I take that for granted? And as my heart fills with empathy and fondness for my camera I give back the sales woman the newer shinier, prettier, quicker, more technology savvy one and walk away. I instead smile at the prospect of perhaps filling a picture frame with the fruits of my trustworthy baby.
I often catch myself salivating at the sight of a beautifully endowed 8 mega pixel Kodak or Nikon. Mental comparisons of size versus zoom capabilities leave me flustered and a little embarrassed when my thought process is interrupted. I get caught up in this whirlwind of imagination and possibility. The glimmering silver and sexy black casing has me inebriated with glee. I can’t help but feel like the LCD screens look at me with yearning as if to scream out “Use and abuse me! I’ll satisfy you”. I'll often ask to see or hold a camera I like in my hand. I play with it like I'm taking a photo sideways, diagonally and vertically. It's precisely at the moment when my heart skips a beat and I decide "I MUST OWN" this camera that i feel bad for the camera I have back home. It's treated me so well. So what if it's a little out of date and clunky. I haven't fully learnt to appreciate it. There is a wonderful comfort that comes with familiarity.... Why then do I take that for granted? And as my heart fills with empathy and fondness for my camera I give back the sales woman the newer shinier, prettier, quicker, more technology savvy one and walk away. I instead smile at the prospect of perhaps filling a picture frame with the fruits of my trustworthy baby.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Tagged
I was tagged by N ages upon ages ago:
list 5 things we dont know about u.
1) Nothing grosses me out more than a fallen strand of hair on my wet skin after a shower. I involuntarily make an Ekhhh face and convulse as I get 2ash3areera/ shivers down my spine.
2) I’m terrified of becoming a has been that’s never actually been.
3) I once slept for 2 days and one night straight.
4) I used to have two orangutans as pets. Sam and Sheila.
5) Hands are my one vice. My one superficial condition. They say so much about a person’s past and present. I can forgo anything but a man with prettier, better kept hands than mine or conversely entirely unkept hands is a definite turn off.
list 5 things we dont know about u.
1) Nothing grosses me out more than a fallen strand of hair on my wet skin after a shower. I involuntarily make an Ekhhh face and convulse as I get 2ash3areera/ shivers down my spine.
2) I’m terrified of becoming a has been that’s never actually been.
3) I once slept for 2 days and one night straight.
4) I used to have two orangutans as pets. Sam and Sheila.
5) Hands are my one vice. My one superficial condition. They say so much about a person’s past and present. I can forgo anything but a man with prettier, better kept hands than mine or conversely entirely unkept hands is a definite turn off.
The universe
The universe has this wonderful way of setting you straight sometimes. Just when you stop expecting and come to terms with your reality it finds a way to make a mockery of your understanding of how things are or how they should be. It’s at moments like these that I love the universe most. I haven’t quite figured out if this its way of balancing the scales and giving everyone their fair share or if I’m just far too much of a dreamer, over reader and over analyzer. Do the events really fit into a grand picture or is it just random chaos? Better still is it chaos ruled by order? Comes off as an oxymoron of sorts but I think I like this description best.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
I hate myself this morning
I hate myself this morning
I think I must confess
I hate myself this morning
I’m afraid I can’t digress
I hate myself this morning for crying on the phone
I hate myself this morning for letting you know that I feel alone
I hate myself this morning for depriving myself of sleep
I hate myself this morning for conversations far from deep
I hate myself this morning
I think I must confess
I hate myself this morning
I’m afraid I can’t digress
I hate myself this morning for ending up where I said I wouldn’t
I hate myself this morning for doing what I always thought I couldn’t
I hate myself this morning for selling myself short
I hate myself this morning for not sticking to mission abort
I hate myself this morning
I think I must confess
I hate myself this morning
I’m afraid I can’t digress
I hate myself this morning for being caught off guard
I hate myself this morning for my blatant disregard
I hate myself this morning for being such a suck
I hate myself this morning for not wishing you good luck
I hate myself this morning
I think I must confess
I hate myself this morning
I’m afraid I can’t digress
I hate myself this morning for thinking I’m Doctor Seuss
I hate myself this morning for being your ego’s devout masseuse
I hate myself this morning for words I twist and contort
I hate myself this morning for all the deceit that needs a sieve to sort
I hate myself this morning
I think I must confess
I hate myself this morning
I’m afraid I can’t digress
I hate myself this morning for being angry at the world and it being cruel
I hate myself this morning for playing the role of the pandering fool
I hate myself this morning for feeling this crappy way
I hate myself this morning for letting the drama ruin the play
I think I must confess
I hate myself this morning
I’m afraid I can’t digress
I hate myself this morning for crying on the phone
I hate myself this morning for letting you know that I feel alone
I hate myself this morning for depriving myself of sleep
I hate myself this morning for conversations far from deep
I hate myself this morning
I think I must confess
I hate myself this morning
I’m afraid I can’t digress
I hate myself this morning for ending up where I said I wouldn’t
I hate myself this morning for doing what I always thought I couldn’t
I hate myself this morning for selling myself short
I hate myself this morning for not sticking to mission abort
I hate myself this morning
I think I must confess
I hate myself this morning
I’m afraid I can’t digress
I hate myself this morning for being caught off guard
I hate myself this morning for my blatant disregard
I hate myself this morning for being such a suck
I hate myself this morning for not wishing you good luck
I hate myself this morning
I think I must confess
I hate myself this morning
I’m afraid I can’t digress
I hate myself this morning for thinking I’m Doctor Seuss
I hate myself this morning for being your ego’s devout masseuse
I hate myself this morning for words I twist and contort
I hate myself this morning for all the deceit that needs a sieve to sort
I hate myself this morning
I think I must confess
I hate myself this morning
I’m afraid I can’t digress
I hate myself this morning for being angry at the world and it being cruel
I hate myself this morning for playing the role of the pandering fool
I hate myself this morning for feeling this crappy way
I hate myself this morning for letting the drama ruin the play
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Forget
Forget Cadbury,
Hallmark,
De Sade,
Brad Pitt
and Ahmed Ezz.
The calories,
corny lines,
sleazy eroticism,
chiseled chins
and the kissable lips.
Forget commercialism,
Forced emotions
And the pressure to give
The Dutch roses,
Marquise diamonds
and lingerie you’ll surely outlive
Forget construction paper,
stickers and glue.
The dusty scrapbook,
pictures and
the nostalgia that fills you
Forget the search,
the road to elderado
and Aphrodite’s spell
Forget stories of love
you might not live long enough
to concoct and tell
Forget the tantalizing,
shiney crap that Hollywood trys to sell
They’re nothing but fantasies
that from the shelves of reality fell.
So forget Cadbury,
hallmark,
de Sade,
brad Pitt
and Ahmed Ezz
You and I both know
that if love chose a home,
The Abyss of ur heart and soul is where its bound to exist.
Hallmark,
De Sade,
Brad Pitt
and Ahmed Ezz.
The calories,
corny lines,
sleazy eroticism,
chiseled chins
and the kissable lips.
Forget commercialism,
Forced emotions
And the pressure to give
The Dutch roses,
Marquise diamonds
and lingerie you’ll surely outlive
Forget construction paper,
stickers and glue.
The dusty scrapbook,
pictures and
the nostalgia that fills you
Forget the search,
the road to elderado
and Aphrodite’s spell
Forget stories of love
you might not live long enough
to concoct and tell
Forget the tantalizing,
shiney crap that Hollywood trys to sell
They’re nothing but fantasies
that from the shelves of reality fell.
So forget Cadbury,
hallmark,
de Sade,
brad Pitt
and Ahmed Ezz
You and I both know
that if love chose a home,
The Abyss of ur heart and soul is where its bound to exist.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Fun as Fungus can be!
I get home last night to the sound of a typical documentary voice. You know the type, a bit of an accent from somewhere or the other (I’m assuming it’s fake or put on), usually a male’s voice who, in the back of his mind I’m sure knows that everyone listening to him wants to reach for a shotgun in order to create a master piece of blood and gore on the strategically placed wall facing the TV set. I momentarily block out his voice and am drawn to the scene captured by a camera that seems to be traveling up the trunk of an endlessly long tree. It was kind of like that cartoon based on jack and the bean stock, where jack climbs the gigantic bean stock past the clouds and all sorts of levels of heaven before getting to the giants house.
“Oh wow! How tall is THAT tree?! Ha! That S%*t is whack!” Mind you I’m alone in the room at this point and so random thoughts and questions thrown at inanimate objects make perfect sense. And in response I hear a voice that goes. “Isn’t that crazy? It grows up to 8 meters a year and they say it lives for ages too.” I don’t give a second’s thought as to how or why I got an answer when I spoke to the TV but instead ponder the possibilities of a fridge that comes in the same make and model.
“Where’s the mayo?”
“second row on the left.”
I laugh to myself as the thought “puts a whole new spin on the words full options...doesn’t it?” lit in neon lights dance around in my head. Snapping out of the oblivion that is my mind, I am fixated on the beauty of it all. More and more drawn to the images of the rainforest and the fact that these trees, these gorgeous endless miles of green, are what both consume gallons upon gallons of water but also create it as well. I allow the voice of the presenter to infiltrate my ears and he is no longer white noise.
“The rain forests receive up to 2 meters of rainfall a year, and the trees create half that amount”
It was after I’d developed this bond with fake accent presenter man and the incredibly well shot documentary that I learnt lots and lots. I find it’s not so much what I see or hear that shows me the world from a different perspective but it’s my taking it all in and reflecting on it in comparison to the world around me.
There was this one scene of a pack of chimpanzees that reminded me of human atrocities committed in times of war. Moving in perfect alignment through the foliage enroute to the scene of an ambush where another pack of unaware chimpanzees were going about their business eating their fruits. They stopped and listened all at the same time. One chimpanzee traveled up ahead to check out what was going on and with a nod of his/her head signaled to the rest of the pack that it they needed to move forward. Their strategy was to create as much noise and commotion as possible when they attacked. Screaming and banging on the trunks of trees they seemed like a cocky crazed enemy invading a country with way less men than could possibly over through the current rule. Rape and pillage were the only way to describe it. A female chimpanzee was lucky to have escaped with her life only after being rapped. Another young chimpanzee was killed and most disturbing of all eaten just to set an example I’m guessing. When you see these things in a rainforest you can’t help but think it justifiable because they are animals but the comparison and similarity of which they reminded me of people was most unsettling.
With a moment of silence and a musical interlude fake accent presenter dude’s attention shifts to the coolest fungus out there! Mr wilson’s cabinate of wonders describes it like this:
“Large ants survive by foraging for food among the fallen leaves and undergrowth
of the extraordinarily rich rain-forest floor.
On occasion, while foraging for food ants will become infected by inhaling the microscopic spore of a fungus from the genus Tomentella, millions of which rain down upon the forest floor from somewhere in the canopy above. Upon being inhaled, the spore lodges itself
inside the ant’s tiny brain and immediately begins to grow, quickly fomenting bizarre behavioral changes in its ant host. The creature appears troubled and confused, and presently, for the first time in its life, it leaves the forest floor and begins an arduous climb up the stalks of vines and ferns.
Driven on and on by the still-growing fungus, the ant finally achieves a seemingly prescribed height whereupon, utterly spent, it impales the plant with its mandibles and, thus affixed, waits to die. Ants that have met their doom in this fashion are quite a common sight in certain sections of the rain forest.
The fungus, for its part, lives on. It continues to consume the brain, moving on
through the rest of the nervous system and, eventually, through all the soft tissue that remains of the ant. After approximately two weeks, a spike like protrusion erupts from out of what had once been the ant’s head. Growing to a length of about an inch and a half, the spike features a bright orange tip, heavy-laden with spores, which now begin to rain down onto the forest floor for other unsuspecting ants to inhale.”
Its crazy… totally totally crazy. So out of a scifi movie check it out.
“Oh wow! How tall is THAT tree?! Ha! That S%*t is whack!” Mind you I’m alone in the room at this point and so random thoughts and questions thrown at inanimate objects make perfect sense. And in response I hear a voice that goes. “Isn’t that crazy? It grows up to 8 meters a year and they say it lives for ages too.” I don’t give a second’s thought as to how or why I got an answer when I spoke to the TV but instead ponder the possibilities of a fridge that comes in the same make and model.
“Where’s the mayo?”
“second row on the left.”
I laugh to myself as the thought “puts a whole new spin on the words full options...doesn’t it?” lit in neon lights dance around in my head. Snapping out of the oblivion that is my mind, I am fixated on the beauty of it all. More and more drawn to the images of the rainforest and the fact that these trees, these gorgeous endless miles of green, are what both consume gallons upon gallons of water but also create it as well. I allow the voice of the presenter to infiltrate my ears and he is no longer white noise.
“The rain forests receive up to 2 meters of rainfall a year, and the trees create half that amount”
It was after I’d developed this bond with fake accent presenter man and the incredibly well shot documentary that I learnt lots and lots. I find it’s not so much what I see or hear that shows me the world from a different perspective but it’s my taking it all in and reflecting on it in comparison to the world around me.
There was this one scene of a pack of chimpanzees that reminded me of human atrocities committed in times of war. Moving in perfect alignment through the foliage enroute to the scene of an ambush where another pack of unaware chimpanzees were going about their business eating their fruits. They stopped and listened all at the same time. One chimpanzee traveled up ahead to check out what was going on and with a nod of his/her head signaled to the rest of the pack that it they needed to move forward. Their strategy was to create as much noise and commotion as possible when they attacked. Screaming and banging on the trunks of trees they seemed like a cocky crazed enemy invading a country with way less men than could possibly over through the current rule. Rape and pillage were the only way to describe it. A female chimpanzee was lucky to have escaped with her life only after being rapped. Another young chimpanzee was killed and most disturbing of all eaten just to set an example I’m guessing. When you see these things in a rainforest you can’t help but think it justifiable because they are animals but the comparison and similarity of which they reminded me of people was most unsettling.
With a moment of silence and a musical interlude fake accent presenter dude’s attention shifts to the coolest fungus out there! Mr wilson’s cabinate of wonders describes it like this:
“Large ants survive by foraging for food among the fallen leaves and undergrowth
of the extraordinarily rich rain-forest floor.
On occasion, while foraging for food ants will become infected by inhaling the microscopic spore of a fungus from the genus Tomentella, millions of which rain down upon the forest floor from somewhere in the canopy above. Upon being inhaled, the spore lodges itself
inside the ant’s tiny brain and immediately begins to grow, quickly fomenting bizarre behavioral changes in its ant host. The creature appears troubled and confused, and presently, for the first time in its life, it leaves the forest floor and begins an arduous climb up the stalks of vines and ferns.
Driven on and on by the still-growing fungus, the ant finally achieves a seemingly prescribed height whereupon, utterly spent, it impales the plant with its mandibles and, thus affixed, waits to die. Ants that have met their doom in this fashion are quite a common sight in certain sections of the rain forest.
The fungus, for its part, lives on. It continues to consume the brain, moving on
through the rest of the nervous system and, eventually, through all the soft tissue that remains of the ant. After approximately two weeks, a spike like protrusion erupts from out of what had once been the ant’s head. Growing to a length of about an inch and a half, the spike features a bright orange tip, heavy-laden with spores, which now begin to rain down onto the forest floor for other unsuspecting ants to inhale.”
Its crazy… totally totally crazy. So out of a scifi movie check it out.
Friday, January 19, 2007
On being girlie and such
Reason to rejoice for being female.
- The inexplicable joy found in a brilliantly shiny coat of fresh nail polish.
- The choice between shorts, pants, skirts, dresses, overalls, t-shirts, blouses, tank tops, tube tops, halter tops, flip flops, stilettos, boots, penny loafers, slip-ons and sneakers.
- The option to add color to ones cheeks or bring out the color of their eyes.
- The satisfaction of knowing you have an unsurpassed threshold for pain but are ok with sobbing shamelessly should you feel the need.
- The ability to multitask.
- The ability to function on minimal sleep.
- The ability to make things pretty.
- The natural mastery in the soothing powers of being tactile.
- Experiencing the miracle of having something grow inside you.
- Having a purse that contains something for any kind of emergency. Wet wipes for sticky situations, a tide pen for messes and spills, a book in case of severe boredom, candy in the case of low blood pressure and last but not least a pen to write the words “help me” should you find yourself in a taxi cab that refuses to stop.
Reason’s to curse the day you discovered you had no Willy.
1) Hair removal and the male’s inability to understand just how painful this damn process is.
2) Body parts that manage to get in the way each and every single time you hope, pray, desire whatever you spill misses you on its way to the floor.
3) Having to pee sitting down
4) Never knowing the feeling of having someone bounce off your chest, should u decide to take that approach, without having them smirk lamely when you step up to them and go “don’t mess with me”.
5) Knowing that the inevitable end to having something grow inside you is having to force it back out again but with the added perk of it being a gazzilion times bigger. Think Water melons and lemons.
Monday, January 15, 2007
A Hypothetical "what if"
Short but sweet.
100% out of a book I read somewhere but can’t remember where in order to properly give props. I should say I tweaked it a little for fun in order to inspire my creativity. Let’s see how you do with it. The scenario goes like this.
Imagine the effects of a deadly disease that is both incurable and smart. Much like different strains of the flu bug it warps in form and so makes the development of a vaccine impossible. This disease however varies from the regular variety because it is carried through sound. Fluctuating in pitch it can essentially be transmitted through anything humans can hear. What are the effects of such a disease on present and future society?
Here are some of the things the author came up with:
· Commercialization of sound. We’d have to buy our news and music from a secure source with labels that read : Do not listen if seal is broken.
· Every day things like the hum of a fridge or the popping of popcorn inevitably carry a threat.
What I came up with:
· We become more and more isolated as individuals and further play up the idea that we think we’re alone in being alone.
· Expressions of anger, happiness or flintiness no longer have a toll. We’ll have to find other ways to express ourselves.
· Verbally expressing yourself will be considered vulgar and low class.
· A mass subculture of unfiltered music junkies will emerge, people will meet at shady places to get their fix of unfiltered sounds
· Musicians will become equated with serial killers and I imagine they’ll soon supersede dentists and become the profession with the highest suicide rate.
· On the long run the extinction of music will inevitably have an effect on our history. Many a nation have carried on tradition in song and dance.
· People at nightclubs will be viewed like those tribes that gather round the fire to shake to the beat of a drum
· The entertainment/cinema industry will have to resort to alternate methods like vibrations in their chairs or quick flashes of light. People eventually pick up on a language that denotes “I love you” with a long buzz then two short ones and anger with a large bright sudden flash of light.
· Written music will become like Latin, audibly long gone but still present on paper.
· If you’re an evolution believer then we’d eventually evolve into humans without ears. A body part that serves no function will surely become useless. Except for balance purposes that is.
· We’d have to find a way to muzzle every sort of animal that makes noise in our lives. Not only would be implementing the rules on ourselves but now we’re interfering with other species’ forms of communications.
100% out of a book I read somewhere but can’t remember where in order to properly give props. I should say I tweaked it a little for fun in order to inspire my creativity. Let’s see how you do with it. The scenario goes like this.
Imagine the effects of a deadly disease that is both incurable and smart. Much like different strains of the flu bug it warps in form and so makes the development of a vaccine impossible. This disease however varies from the regular variety because it is carried through sound. Fluctuating in pitch it can essentially be transmitted through anything humans can hear. What are the effects of such a disease on present and future society?
Here are some of the things the author came up with:
· Commercialization of sound. We’d have to buy our news and music from a secure source with labels that read : Do not listen if seal is broken.
· Every day things like the hum of a fridge or the popping of popcorn inevitably carry a threat.
What I came up with:
· We become more and more isolated as individuals and further play up the idea that we think we’re alone in being alone.
· Expressions of anger, happiness or flintiness no longer have a toll. We’ll have to find other ways to express ourselves.
· Verbally expressing yourself will be considered vulgar and low class.
· A mass subculture of unfiltered music junkies will emerge, people will meet at shady places to get their fix of unfiltered sounds
· Musicians will become equated with serial killers and I imagine they’ll soon supersede dentists and become the profession with the highest suicide rate.
· On the long run the extinction of music will inevitably have an effect on our history. Many a nation have carried on tradition in song and dance.
· People at nightclubs will be viewed like those tribes that gather round the fire to shake to the beat of a drum
· The entertainment/cinema industry will have to resort to alternate methods like vibrations in their chairs or quick flashes of light. People eventually pick up on a language that denotes “I love you” with a long buzz then two short ones and anger with a large bright sudden flash of light.
· Written music will become like Latin, audibly long gone but still present on paper.
· If you’re an evolution believer then we’d eventually evolve into humans without ears. A body part that serves no function will surely become useless. Except for balance purposes that is.
· We’d have to find a way to muzzle every sort of animal that makes noise in our lives. Not only would be implementing the rules on ourselves but now we’re interfering with other species’ forms of communications.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Intangible for a reason
The next time someone asks you why they can’t find or have the perfect life, job, lover, car or outfit run this by them. Ideas of perfection are only perfect until they materialize. It’s almost as though perfection and existence in a TANGIBLE form are two characteristics that are never found in application to the same idea person or object.
Take the perfect circle as an example. It’s only perfect as an idea, a thought, or a definition. Attempt to put your pencil down on a piece of paper to make visually existent and it instantly becomes imperfect. There will never be a pencil sharp enough, a compass accurate enough, or a sheet of paper flat enough to create it. Seeking perfection is a lost cause.
Take the perfect circle as an example. It’s only perfect as an idea, a thought, or a definition. Attempt to put your pencil down on a piece of paper to make visually existent and it instantly becomes imperfect. There will never be a pencil sharp enough, a compass accurate enough, or a sheet of paper flat enough to create it. Seeking perfection is a lost cause.
Friday, December 29, 2006
The neu yeer rezolushions
I’ve decided not to resolve to go to the gym more often. If shamoo got along just fine I’m sure I can manage aswell.
I’ve decided not to resolve to find happiness, I spend enough time as it is looking for my keys. It just doesn’t make any sense to be wasting the rest of it looking for something I can’t even define. I’ll do something more productive. Two letters! TV. “Time well wasted”.
I’ve decided not to stress about the “what am I going to do and where do I go from here” and because I tend to forget about this, I’m gonna use the incredible hulk as a visual reminder that the push and pull of a constipation face are accompanied with, but by no means justification for the popping veins, arteries and stretch marks that are bound to make an appearance along my neck with age.
I’ve decided not to let my chiwawa imitating cubicle buddy’s snoring deter me from taking the shorter path past his cubicle to the water cooler. Sayantandamo ila the ho-hum white noise that surrounds me at the office.
I’ve decided that being a “lady” doesn’t mean I can’t swear to express myself. Tthere is absolutely nothing wrong to resorting to having to slip a “motherfuckin” ever so quickly and so often in between words of “imprortance” like annual and report to blow off steam. I’ll mimic the splicing of porn images through out chuck palahniuk’s fight club. You never know if you actually saw/heard what you did but it’s in there! Was it your mortherfuckin imagination playing tricks on you again or did I just actually say “motherfuckin”?
I’ve decided that not resolving is just the same as resolving and so I will resolve to abandon the resolution process or lack there off.
P.S one more: I’ve resolved not to knock curling as a sport.
Play It! Don’t watch it!
I’ve decided not to resolve to find happiness, I spend enough time as it is looking for my keys. It just doesn’t make any sense to be wasting the rest of it looking for something I can’t even define. I’ll do something more productive. Two letters! TV. “Time well wasted”.
I’ve decided not to stress about the “what am I going to do and where do I go from here” and because I tend to forget about this, I’m gonna use the incredible hulk as a visual reminder that the push and pull of a constipation face are accompanied with, but by no means justification for the popping veins, arteries and stretch marks that are bound to make an appearance along my neck with age.
I’ve decided not to let my chiwawa imitating cubicle buddy’s snoring deter me from taking the shorter path past his cubicle to the water cooler. Sayantandamo ila the ho-hum white noise that surrounds me at the office.
I’ve decided that being a “lady” doesn’t mean I can’t swear to express myself. Tthere is absolutely nothing wrong to resorting to having to slip a “motherfuckin” ever so quickly and so often in between words of “imprortance” like annual and report to blow off steam. I’ll mimic the splicing of porn images through out chuck palahniuk’s fight club. You never know if you actually saw/heard what you did but it’s in there! Was it your mortherfuckin imagination playing tricks on you again or did I just actually say “motherfuckin”?
I’ve decided that not resolving is just the same as resolving and so I will resolve to abandon the resolution process or lack there off.
P.S one more: I’ve resolved not to knock curling as a sport.
Play It! Don’t watch it!
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
The scenic route gets you there.
I haven’t posted anything in forever, and every time I write something it’s on a diskette somewhere and never lands on here. Usually nonsensical ramblings in my mind and so perhaps better that way. But today is different. Today I have something to share other than my ever-present nonsensical whirlings of thought.
I went to a conference on the weekend with a girlfriend of mine that I hoped, as the name mentioned, would “Revive my Islamic spirit”. I’ve never actually been to one of these events in all my years in Canada and will admit that I’ve had a bias towards them that wasn’t entirely based on experience but largely on prejudice. I’ve always just assumed that such events like this would be a lot more hardcore than I could handle and that I’d come home feeling worse about myself and my practice than I did going in but, I was more than pleasantly surprised. It was refreshing to see so many Muslims gathered in one place in the most wonderful way. Lots of salaams, loads of smiles and best of all no chaos. The website was updated throughout the weekend, the sessions were on time, the bazaar was full of reading material from Rumi to Ghazali and hardcover picture books of ancient Islamic architecture to children’s stories lined the tables. The washrooms were magnificently maintained and the audio levels alongside the visual displays were impeccable. You could hear the speeches wherever you sat and could clearly see the speakers on the big screens. I also finally managed to land myself a CD with solely the nay on it. I’ve been hunting for this sort of thing for my Sunday bubble bath for ages now to no avail. Even better still, not only did I make the acquaintance of an incredibly sweet Turkish uncle who makes the funkiest jewllery but I also discovered that he could hook me up with some nay lessons! I ran into almost every single Muslim I’ve ever met since I moved here, I chuckled at the mc’s introduction for Ihab tawfik’s asma2 allah il husna performance. Cuz there is absolutely nothing funnier than an mc struggling with the words “sa7rany”, “tetraga feya” and “ya salam” as he pretends to be an announcer for the wrestling federation moments before Ihab busts out into anasheed deneeya. The screaming higabi and niqabi teenagers at Outlandish’s performance was also a refreshing flash of reality and helped me realize that perhaps we’re all in the same boat. A boat where it’s not so easy to keep the faith the way each and every one of use would like and that everyone slips here and there surrounded by temptations that are way more accessible than is sometimes good for the average human. And though the speakers were wonderfully eloquent and delivered speeches about modesty and finding a middle ground between assimilation and integration it was the rabbi that gave me something to think about. First and foremost, I thought it was incredibly clever for the organizer’s to invite this gentleman to speak at the conference along side one of the most influential shaykhs in North America. The visual image of them sitting side by side alone projected a message that for the most part the world does not get to see. They both spoke about the same topic but each in their individual respect and from both their speeches I think I was able to draw my own conclusions. The rabbi‘s speech tickled my fancy and gave me just enough to make me see that I know close to nothing about Judaism and that perhaps It was time to unveil the shroud of ignorance. I crack me up with my extreme sense of drama! Who says that? Unveil the shroud of ignorance? It’s too good… its got nuts and cheese written all over it. Anyways back to business. The rabbi spoke of the word YHWH, better known in English as Jehovah, four letters that are not to be pronounced in Jewish tradition. This concept on its own has profound meaning and in it extreme wisdom as well. It is typically human to want to label things. Our need to identify and point a finger is what gets a lot of us into trouble seeing as how it is the basis for stereotypes. Place a label on something and you limit it to the capacity of that name or more specifically people’s ability to comprehend the full scope of the idea or the object. Take away the right to put things in a box and doing so you allow the idea or object to retain its meaning or attributes. I think I’m onto something here….
Labels limit that which is being labeled to the scope of how those who identify it understand or define that label.
And so the letters in the word Jehovah, written YHWH, are symbols. The first letter indicates the future tense and the last three denote the present. The idea, as this rabbi put it, is that the word for God is a power capable of transforming that which is now into that which it should be in the future. There is sheer brilliance in such a definition, it is abstract in nature yet extremely expressive. It allows room for each to draw their own specifics not limited or constrained to things that limit the soul and imagination. And after reflecting on the nature of the word and its lack of constraints I came to the conclusion that this too is how I relate to Islam. All these rules that sometimes seem stringent are generally those placed on ourselves through the projection of what these rules mean to others. The arrival at this thought was strangely liberating for me. Seeing the guidelines as means of empowerment as opposed to a means of suppression or repression has me walking on air. The rules are what I make of them. I create my own reality. And as long as I don’t go around killing or stealing then I figure I’m fine and that it’s all relative. It’s strange that it was the rabbi that indirectly helped me see this fact. Another interesting thing I learned through my follow up reading was that the word Elohim used instead of Jehovah is a Hebrew word that expresses concepts of divinity. In a grammatical sense it is a plural noun governing a singular verb in essence a plural that refers to a single deity. A concept that I could best relate to the many names of Allah. And in all this comparing and contrasting between religions and beliefs I’ve just reiterated and made tangible in my own head the fact that we are all the same. Much like the unique branches of a tree each filled with leaves swaying in the wind at their own leisure but all quintessentially from the same root.
I went to a conference on the weekend with a girlfriend of mine that I hoped, as the name mentioned, would “Revive my Islamic spirit”. I’ve never actually been to one of these events in all my years in Canada and will admit that I’ve had a bias towards them that wasn’t entirely based on experience but largely on prejudice. I’ve always just assumed that such events like this would be a lot more hardcore than I could handle and that I’d come home feeling worse about myself and my practice than I did going in but, I was more than pleasantly surprised. It was refreshing to see so many Muslims gathered in one place in the most wonderful way. Lots of salaams, loads of smiles and best of all no chaos. The website was updated throughout the weekend, the sessions were on time, the bazaar was full of reading material from Rumi to Ghazali and hardcover picture books of ancient Islamic architecture to children’s stories lined the tables. The washrooms were magnificently maintained and the audio levels alongside the visual displays were impeccable. You could hear the speeches wherever you sat and could clearly see the speakers on the big screens. I also finally managed to land myself a CD with solely the nay on it. I’ve been hunting for this sort of thing for my Sunday bubble bath for ages now to no avail. Even better still, not only did I make the acquaintance of an incredibly sweet Turkish uncle who makes the funkiest jewllery but I also discovered that he could hook me up with some nay lessons! I ran into almost every single Muslim I’ve ever met since I moved here, I chuckled at the mc’s introduction for Ihab tawfik’s asma2 allah il husna performance. Cuz there is absolutely nothing funnier than an mc struggling with the words “sa7rany”, “tetraga feya” and “ya salam” as he pretends to be an announcer for the wrestling federation moments before Ihab busts out into anasheed deneeya. The screaming higabi and niqabi teenagers at Outlandish’s performance was also a refreshing flash of reality and helped me realize that perhaps we’re all in the same boat. A boat where it’s not so easy to keep the faith the way each and every one of use would like and that everyone slips here and there surrounded by temptations that are way more accessible than is sometimes good for the average human. And though the speakers were wonderfully eloquent and delivered speeches about modesty and finding a middle ground between assimilation and integration it was the rabbi that gave me something to think about. First and foremost, I thought it was incredibly clever for the organizer’s to invite this gentleman to speak at the conference along side one of the most influential shaykhs in North America. The visual image of them sitting side by side alone projected a message that for the most part the world does not get to see. They both spoke about the same topic but each in their individual respect and from both their speeches I think I was able to draw my own conclusions. The rabbi‘s speech tickled my fancy and gave me just enough to make me see that I know close to nothing about Judaism and that perhaps It was time to unveil the shroud of ignorance. I crack me up with my extreme sense of drama! Who says that? Unveil the shroud of ignorance? It’s too good… its got nuts and cheese written all over it. Anyways back to business. The rabbi spoke of the word YHWH, better known in English as Jehovah, four letters that are not to be pronounced in Jewish tradition. This concept on its own has profound meaning and in it extreme wisdom as well. It is typically human to want to label things. Our need to identify and point a finger is what gets a lot of us into trouble seeing as how it is the basis for stereotypes. Place a label on something and you limit it to the capacity of that name or more specifically people’s ability to comprehend the full scope of the idea or the object. Take away the right to put things in a box and doing so you allow the idea or object to retain its meaning or attributes. I think I’m onto something here….
Labels limit that which is being labeled to the scope of how those who identify it understand or define that label.
And so the letters in the word Jehovah, written YHWH, are symbols. The first letter indicates the future tense and the last three denote the present. The idea, as this rabbi put it, is that the word for God is a power capable of transforming that which is now into that which it should be in the future. There is sheer brilliance in such a definition, it is abstract in nature yet extremely expressive. It allows room for each to draw their own specifics not limited or constrained to things that limit the soul and imagination. And after reflecting on the nature of the word and its lack of constraints I came to the conclusion that this too is how I relate to Islam. All these rules that sometimes seem stringent are generally those placed on ourselves through the projection of what these rules mean to others. The arrival at this thought was strangely liberating for me. Seeing the guidelines as means of empowerment as opposed to a means of suppression or repression has me walking on air. The rules are what I make of them. I create my own reality. And as long as I don’t go around killing or stealing then I figure I’m fine and that it’s all relative. It’s strange that it was the rabbi that indirectly helped me see this fact. Another interesting thing I learned through my follow up reading was that the word Elohim used instead of Jehovah is a Hebrew word that expresses concepts of divinity. In a grammatical sense it is a plural noun governing a singular verb in essence a plural that refers to a single deity. A concept that I could best relate to the many names of Allah. And in all this comparing and contrasting between religions and beliefs I’ve just reiterated and made tangible in my own head the fact that we are all the same. Much like the unique branches of a tree each filled with leaves swaying in the wind at their own leisure but all quintessentially from the same root.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Just add water
As I get older I’ve started to notice that I’ve developed a refined taste for the sort of outings I enjoy. The excitement of getting away with the regular run of the mill loitering at random places specifically prohibiting casual lounging doesn’t seem to cut it for me anymore. I have needs damn it! There needs to be substance. I need to come home feeling like.. ahhhh I’m glad I got dressed. I mean really all the freaking bending over to put my shoes on and raising of arms to get my shirt over my head needs to be justified somehow. I need to be brought home with a rejuvenated sense of self and energy and I’m not talking that little kick you get from too much wasabi. I’m talking a good high. The kind that doesn’t make you want to kill yourself because you’re so far removed. And so I set out to recreate the perfect soire.
Number 1) Avoid outings with girlfriends that are confused about your relationship. A girlfriend that cries because you not calling her enough is a sure sign you don’t love her is probably a tad more drama than the average common folk can handle. Should you find yourself in said situation however, trust me when I say, hugging and reassuring her that she’s just being overly EMO and that that surely isn’t the scenario will in all likeliness encourage the behavior and increase the volume of the sobbing. Point being, you need company that’s comfortable in the skin they’re in. It not only reduces the amount of drama but also the amount of showmanship and fake flattery. There is nothing worse than being complemented on your fabulous eye make up skills when attempting to camouflage a mosquito bite. Also, remember that while talk of how walking by a mirror stopped another girlfriend dead in her tracks long enough to thank god for all her beauty and the debate on whether or not the spaghetti strap is indeed more risqué than the normal sleeveless shirt may have you laughing or entertained for a couple of minutes it inevitably gives you that feeling like you get when you upchuck a part of your food and swallow it again accidentally. You’re grossed out by yourself and can do absolutely nothing about it but cover up the taste. It is vital that your chosen company be able to thoroughly engage in intellectual conversation on a level deeper than name throwing and hand flailing. Minimizing the casualties when every single drop of mascara in the house runs out is hardly a battle to be raving about. Bells definitely need to be a ringing ages before you’re told to step a little to the left because there’s no sense in both of you being tanned, might as well help protect your fair and lovely milky white skinned friend from the sun. Long story short… make sure the thorny crowns of drama are left at home.
People who can take things at face value, don’t take themselves too seriously, can laugh, talk about random things that don’t revolve around their lack of relationships, abundant relationships, sexual frustration, restructuring of the organization they work at, THE budget, financial strife, or how the kids are teething generally get the job done.
Requirement number 2) you need a mission or purpose as your ultimate goal but recognize that it may not be entirely achievable. And I mean a true mission that doesn’t revolve around satisfying the rumbly in your tumbly. Something along lines of the adoption and implementation of operation save someone’s life by contributing a whopping dollar or to two at the art gallery hosting an auction where the proceeds go to amnesty international. You need to completely believe in the mission and its importance no matter how insignificant or dismal.
Number3) Have a severe disregard for your expertise in the horology department, take Salvador Dali’s exploding clock on as your mascot and pretend like time doesn’t exist. Stressing about getting somewhere on time just takes the fun out of ze journey.
Hope for Good weather but if not then make damn sure you have a good pair of gloves.
And last but not least don’t go out expecting to have an amazing time. LOWERED EXPECTATIONS can make a trip to the Laundromat feel like a day spent on roller coasters at your local theme park.
And voila! If you’re not an overly anal person, that’s my recipe to instant good times.
Number 1) Avoid outings with girlfriends that are confused about your relationship. A girlfriend that cries because you not calling her enough is a sure sign you don’t love her is probably a tad more drama than the average common folk can handle. Should you find yourself in said situation however, trust me when I say, hugging and reassuring her that she’s just being overly EMO and that that surely isn’t the scenario will in all likeliness encourage the behavior and increase the volume of the sobbing. Point being, you need company that’s comfortable in the skin they’re in. It not only reduces the amount of drama but also the amount of showmanship and fake flattery. There is nothing worse than being complemented on your fabulous eye make up skills when attempting to camouflage a mosquito bite. Also, remember that while talk of how walking by a mirror stopped another girlfriend dead in her tracks long enough to thank god for all her beauty and the debate on whether or not the spaghetti strap is indeed more risqué than the normal sleeveless shirt may have you laughing or entertained for a couple of minutes it inevitably gives you that feeling like you get when you upchuck a part of your food and swallow it again accidentally. You’re grossed out by yourself and can do absolutely nothing about it but cover up the taste. It is vital that your chosen company be able to thoroughly engage in intellectual conversation on a level deeper than name throwing and hand flailing. Minimizing the casualties when every single drop of mascara in the house runs out is hardly a battle to be raving about. Bells definitely need to be a ringing ages before you’re told to step a little to the left because there’s no sense in both of you being tanned, might as well help protect your fair and lovely milky white skinned friend from the sun. Long story short… make sure the thorny crowns of drama are left at home.
People who can take things at face value, don’t take themselves too seriously, can laugh, talk about random things that don’t revolve around their lack of relationships, abundant relationships, sexual frustration, restructuring of the organization they work at, THE budget, financial strife, or how the kids are teething generally get the job done.
Requirement number 2) you need a mission or purpose as your ultimate goal but recognize that it may not be entirely achievable. And I mean a true mission that doesn’t revolve around satisfying the rumbly in your tumbly. Something along lines of the adoption and implementation of operation save someone’s life by contributing a whopping dollar or to two at the art gallery hosting an auction where the proceeds go to amnesty international. You need to completely believe in the mission and its importance no matter how insignificant or dismal.
Number3) Have a severe disregard for your expertise in the horology department, take Salvador Dali’s exploding clock on as your mascot and pretend like time doesn’t exist. Stressing about getting somewhere on time just takes the fun out of ze journey.
Hope for Good weather but if not then make damn sure you have a good pair of gloves.
And last but not least don’t go out expecting to have an amazing time. LOWERED EXPECTATIONS can make a trip to the Laundromat feel like a day spent on roller coasters at your local theme park.
And voila! If you’re not an overly anal person, that’s my recipe to instant good times.
Friday, December 08, 2006
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Could this be my fetish?
I think I’ve developed quite the fetish for talking to random strangers. It gives me this sense of freedom, this sense of inspiration and this sense of security. I feel like I could essentially reinvent myself each and every time. It’s totally crazy how not being able to anticipate the other person’s judgment gives me this sense of security. They have no pre conceived notion of how I think or what type of person I am. And I could essentially become anyone in their eyes… of course the novelty wears off after the first conversation and eventually people catch on that you’re not super mean, self absorbed or dim witted But its oh so much fun while it lasts. Of all the persona’s I’ve taken on in the exploration of my fetish I’d have to say that dim witted is my ultimate favorite. It’s amazing how people light up when they feel like they can teach you something you don’t already know. They give themselves value or credit for setting your knowledge straight and in that process I feel a sense of confidence come over them. The fun part about this persona is keeping it within reason and not going overboard… keeping it believable. People start to look at you funny if you’re totally empty upstairs … they wonder how on earth you’re where you are doing what you do given the lack of amazing good looks but just enough dumbness creates a comfort zone for most people.
Another fun personality is the continuously obnoxious laughing type. This persona totally puts people on edge pushes them to the max and exposes the person within. At first they’re not sure if you’re laughing at them or with them and when they figure that its not at them they grimace and crinkle their eyebrows.. they’re passive in their listening and will do anything within reason to end the conversation. If the person is tolerant they smile politely and nod in agreement but often times people will dismiss the laughter. They’ve labeled you as unworthy and would much rather conserve their energy for something else.
The deeply troubled, extremely sad persona is what brings out the gold stuff in most people I find. They listen to every single word… every sentence trying to grasp the reason for all the sadness. Unable to produce empathy most will do the best they can and at least provide sympathy. The “lets fix it” instincts kick in and all of a sudden you’re presented with a world of solutions to your “problem” on a silver platter.
If nothing more, these little experiments teach me a lot about people. They’re quite amusing and usually harmless if it is only a one time encounter.
Another fun personality is the continuously obnoxious laughing type. This persona totally puts people on edge pushes them to the max and exposes the person within. At first they’re not sure if you’re laughing at them or with them and when they figure that its not at them they grimace and crinkle their eyebrows.. they’re passive in their listening and will do anything within reason to end the conversation. If the person is tolerant they smile politely and nod in agreement but often times people will dismiss the laughter. They’ve labeled you as unworthy and would much rather conserve their energy for something else.
The deeply troubled, extremely sad persona is what brings out the gold stuff in most people I find. They listen to every single word… every sentence trying to grasp the reason for all the sadness. Unable to produce empathy most will do the best they can and at least provide sympathy. The “lets fix it” instincts kick in and all of a sudden you’re presented with a world of solutions to your “problem” on a silver platter.
If nothing more, these little experiments teach me a lot about people. They’re quite amusing and usually harmless if it is only a one time encounter.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
I vunder
1-Do the crazies know they are crazy? Does the questioning of your craziness make you a little sane?
2-Why do soap dispensers in public washrooms make you want to chop off your hands because the soap smells like stale vomit with chunks in it?
3-Is self marketing all it is made out to be? If you tell the world you are all that and a bag of chips do they eventually buy into it? Or is that just a mechanism to make people feel better about themselves?
4-Does the making of pretty necessarily indicate a lot of spare time? Isn’t it one thing to look nice and presentable and another to constantly look like you’re going to a wedding? Or should that be attributed to a magnificent ability to multitask?
5-If high maintenance is a piss off then why do we actively seek it out?
6-How can conversations with random strangers bring so much satisfaction compared to those with people who know you best?
7-To own someone’s heart in a much different way than they own yours is a privilege all too often taken for granted. A power all too often abused by the undeserving. How do you stay true to yourself, to that heart and the way of the world all at the same time?
8-I survive on the breath you are finished with. gag inducing or tear inducing?
9-How do you avoid the drama when its in your head?
10-How can stagnation be that much more powerful than change?
11-What if jack Nicolson was right and this is “as good as it gets”?
12-Why can’t I ever find Osheen at block buster?
13-Why were the subtitles in a lame color that blended into the background when I found the one episode?
14-Is it possible for someone to snap into reality overnight? And become an entirely different person?
15-Perhaps a major tragedy is in order to get the engine jump started? With great loss comes change?
16-What if I’m living my dreams and dreaming my life? For someone that barely dreams… shouldn’t that thought scare the crap out of me?
17-Can you force yourself into adulthood? The state of limbo leaves you neither here nor there no?
18-For the life of me I can’t see the art in Inuit throat singing. The rhythm I suppose is kind of cool but really other than that where is the appeal?
19-How do you get captain Majed “inahom yal3abon korit il kadam b 3onf” from captain Tsubasa?
20-Why is the ChaCha so difficult to master?!
21-Why didn’t the instructor visit the dentist when his teeth started to turn a dark yellow?
22-Why didn’t Escher use color? It’s kind of Ironic his name being Escher and all. Add a “sk at the beginning and we’re set.
2-Why do soap dispensers in public washrooms make you want to chop off your hands because the soap smells like stale vomit with chunks in it?
3-Is self marketing all it is made out to be? If you tell the world you are all that and a bag of chips do they eventually buy into it? Or is that just a mechanism to make people feel better about themselves?
4-Does the making of pretty necessarily indicate a lot of spare time? Isn’t it one thing to look nice and presentable and another to constantly look like you’re going to a wedding? Or should that be attributed to a magnificent ability to multitask?
5-If high maintenance is a piss off then why do we actively seek it out?
6-How can conversations with random strangers bring so much satisfaction compared to those with people who know you best?
7-To own someone’s heart in a much different way than they own yours is a privilege all too often taken for granted. A power all too often abused by the undeserving. How do you stay true to yourself, to that heart and the way of the world all at the same time?
8-I survive on the breath you are finished with. gag inducing or tear inducing?
9-How do you avoid the drama when its in your head?
10-How can stagnation be that much more powerful than change?
11-What if jack Nicolson was right and this is “as good as it gets”?
12-Why can’t I ever find Osheen at block buster?
13-Why were the subtitles in a lame color that blended into the background when I found the one episode?
14-Is it possible for someone to snap into reality overnight? And become an entirely different person?
15-Perhaps a major tragedy is in order to get the engine jump started? With great loss comes change?
16-What if I’m living my dreams and dreaming my life? For someone that barely dreams… shouldn’t that thought scare the crap out of me?
17-Can you force yourself into adulthood? The state of limbo leaves you neither here nor there no?
18-For the life of me I can’t see the art in Inuit throat singing. The rhythm I suppose is kind of cool but really other than that where is the appeal?
19-How do you get captain Majed “inahom yal3abon korit il kadam b 3onf” from captain Tsubasa?
20-Why is the ChaCha so difficult to master?!
21-Why didn’t the instructor visit the dentist when his teeth started to turn a dark yellow?
22-Why didn’t Escher use color? It’s kind of Ironic his name being Escher and all. Add a “sk at the beginning and we’re set.
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