I quit my job today

     I quit my job today.  As the days passed, I could not help but realize my growing dependence on external objects in order to rationalize the position that I had recently accepted.  As it turns out, the only salve for working one of the few positions truly repugnant to my character is to enjoy to the fullest all of the things that selling out will entail.  As it turns out though, there is just no substitute for being happy with the contribution that I (he/she/it/they/Fido) am making in the world.
     It’s funny, because there is just an enormous amount to unpack in the acquisition and eventual termination of my brief stint working for the man.  We could start by wondering on the allure of capitalism, the passive operants which made the idea of selling things for a faceless finance corporation palatable, yet alone acceptable.  We could talk about recoil, about a life that returns to from substantial self-destruction (all those memories I don’t have, and so on) all the way to the other extreme in the name of running from our true nature.  We could expound on more benign qualities of my time there:  meeting new people, exploring a subculture that only the United States could create, perhaps even the racial implications of work by shift date (I worked second shift, and suffice to say I was the Cracker minority).  We could talk about all of those things, and perhaps in time I will, but I cannot help but notice the reason which finally snapped me out of my cube monkey insanity:  the hidden assumption.
     The hidden assumption comes to light at a crucial period not only personally but in a societal way as well.  Basically, I am talking about all of the implications of holding a given belief, especially the ones that we are not aware of on the face of things.  Take my job for example:  by working for Wells Fargo (I won’t even get into the actual job description), I was forced to hold some beliefs which twist my stomach into a knot even in retrospect.  
Like the notion that Wells Fargo is Ok.  Now I know that some of you might do your banking there, some might be just overjoyed at the idea of banking with a company with wagons, but at the end of the day, in my world, the corporation is nothing more than one which took a grievous and naive error by yours truly and mercilessly pounded him for every dollar that they possibly could (I’ll spare the details, but it was gruesome).  So to work for that corporation is to betray what I believe, for how can one truly accept working for a company which can ask to overlook obvious and insidious conflict of interest.
So aside from asking me to forgive the evil empire, we’ll talk about my reasons for sticking with it as long as I did.  The money was fantastic, I had a window cubicle, and I got to read in between calls.  Now pause.  Wait for it, wait for it, wait for what?  Exactly, those are terrible reasons to hold any sort of employ, one which forced me to hold some things as dear which just could not be thus and so.
We’ll start with money.  All those who know me well, and many who are passingly acquainted will quickly tell you that “Doing it for the $$” just isn’t in the vernacular.  As a function of being crucially poor though, I tried it.  That belief that there was a price on what I hold dear, coupled with the necessity of proving that my job “wasn’t all bad” leads to the new belief that there are things which are ok assuming that the right price is involved.  Of course my only answer is that there is never a reason to do something which is good enough to overcome what you know to be wrong.  I could reiterate it throughout the remainder, in every paragraph to come (it’s implicit) but better to italicize and assume it to be true from here on out.  So to right the idea of working for the weekend, I also had to believe that things (esp. greenbacks and the things to be purchased with them) could be even nearly as rewarding as values.  So also says the junkie as he/she trades the spirit for a fix.
A window cubicle then?  No, no, no.  Remember, watching nature a poor facsimile for being in it.  I watched the day slip away, every day from 11:30-Sundown, reasoning that “At least I’ll get to watch the day go by, it could be worse.”  I won’t even honor that idea with a treatment.
Reading on the job.  The best reason of them all, yet still insufficient in terms of the trade (you know, my soul for creature comforts).  Suffice to say I was quickly reduced to reading only WF acceptable material, and if you can imagine what that might be, suffice to say if it wasn’t financial, I couldn’t read it.  Ugh.  Even better, the reason that I couldn’t read what I would like was under the idea that if a superior walked by, we would seem unprofessional.  Right, like staring vacantly out the window could ever compare.  Also, look at the further assumption here.  Now, I have to believe that because my job allows my to slack a little, that is, get paid to do something in addition to my primary responsibilities, that it is ok.  Forget that you are learning what you have only a passing interest in.  Don’t dare remember that your output to the world rewards no one but a potentially monopolizing company.  And so forth.
So I cannot claim that I necessarily got too much of a point across, but when we move on, we need to vent, hopefully in an interesting way at least.  That aside, we need to stop thinking that the idea of a trade-off is acceptable; for every rationalization we make, we are affecting the deeper value system that lay beneath it.  Just in saying we’re doing something for, say x, y & z, we are also inevitably relegating other, probably more important ideas to a less prominent place in order to sleep better at night.  I cannot escape the notion however, that the world has evolved to a place where we might just be able to tailor the world to our needs.  So never sell yourself short, and if you must make concessions (we all need to learn to play well with each other, after all), really be aware that the ripples of consequence will travel into areas that only become clear upon deeper examination.  That said, I’ll be outside, call me if you need anything.

Staring down the night

     At times, the best way to explain is to be simple.  To all those whom I have ever handled carelessly, my deepest apologies.  To those who have been unkind to me, you are forgiven.  There are few moments which can capture the understanding of all that there is in the world, a true realization that perhaps there is more beauty and reward in each moment and in each person than we can ever hope to take in, let alone understand.  To all the moments spent wasted in worry, trapped in what might have been/could become, to all those past freedoms I give nod.

So to each moment to come, I deeply bow.  You are the opportunity to reveal all the brilliance that lay just beneath the surface of the goings on.  Each instant to come provides for the generation/continuation of a picture of a world colored with a palate of my own design and choice.

And for the only moment I can truly have, this instant here and now, I applaud.  Perhaps you will be the beginning of an idea which will change the world.  Perhaps you will be forgotten from my conscious; either way you mark an instant which can never be again:  a sui generis point which can be only the way it is and no other way.  There are no alternate realities, right and wrong, good and bad, merely differing perceptions of the same ever unfolding timeline, made propositional by the schemes we create.  

Behind the words, behind the explanation, lies the ineffable.  It has no definition, and it cannot be pinned down.  It can be sensed, and occasionally communicated, but any attempts at quantification are rejected as trite, undeserving.  I see you as you truly are, at the same time everything and once and nothing at all.

And so to you, oh world I breathe you in.  I hear your silence, I feel your presence.  From the gentle envelope of gravity to the circulation of the blood throughout me I acknowledge your existence.  And by taking you in and affirming you I affirm every moment past and future.  So a toast, to all that is and what will be, and to all that was, and shall never be again.

To all who have shared in the journey, a round of applause.  To all who will be joining me, I look forward to your acquaintance.  To those with whom I have parted, for whatever reason, I carry you with me, and you will not be forgotten.  Goodnight, and sleep well

Diacriticism

Always something new to learn, always some new lead to follow up on, inevitably something else going on behind the scenes.  It had occurred to me that perhaps there has to be a reason why we all aren’t running around living our lives as we saw fit, and the expense of all the hassle and noise that inevitably seems to accompany our lives.  Perhaps there are a few reasons, but most important now is the notion that perhaps we all still live in one way or another on paradigms and ideas that are over 100 years old.

Now I know, I know, nothing Victorian about you:  you the enlightened youth and elders of the mid Otts.  You’re savvy, prejudice free.  Well, probably not (check back when you’ve clean out your closets), but the point remains that you’ve carved out your own little niche in the world:  you know your passions and pleasures, pains and problems, and they make up the unique individual called you.  But how does one manage to express these desires, to carve freely our own path, with a damn-you-if-I-must attitude to self actualization?

I’m still dealing with that little quirk of life, but it hit me recently that perhaps we shouldn’t be so hard on ourselves.  In fact, the idea of psychological individuation (being and behaving as we are) is one that has only seated itself very recently, in terms of history.  Think for a moment about the Industrial Revolution.  Before this great leap of technology, the only one’s who actually had the leisure time to figure out who they were and what they wanted to be were the wealthy:  everyone else was toiling in the fields, breaking their respective backs merely to eek out a living for themselves and their families (not much time for yourself, eh?).  

But with the Industrial Revolution things changed some.  In fact, they changed a lot, and for the more leisurely.  Good thing right?  Not necessarily.  The industries that flourished were those which allowed the lower-middle classes to behave like the social classes above them.  Thus the beginnings of being unique came in the form of buttons and hats, teapots and lace.  They had nothing to do with ideal; rather they were a salve, differentiation on a mass scale.

Now we may turn our eyes to the United States, where this production changed slightly, with it the opportunities to individuate.  Henry Ford furthered the ability of the common folks to further behave like the rich with this assembly line idea in the early 20th century.  

This is about when the idea of the unique self really began to blossom.  Now the leisure items of the rich were available to the masses.  What to choose?  Which style do I want?  In fact, what do I want? The questions seem trivial now, yet think for second the immense freedom our ancestors must have felt having the brainpower to spend on what particular luxury item they would like to complete themselves.  Thus we were handed the ability to be ourselves, as defined by the things that we want.

But we are still removed from the idea of supreme individuality of self.  The assembly line, the advances in technology, they were all focused on the notion of copying what the more affluent had/were up to  There were more choices now, and more leisure, now more celebrities to copy style from, more affluence to aspire to, more people to be like.  We were still on the cookie-cutter mentality, even though there swiftly because many, many cookie cutters to choose from.

But I digress.  One of the hardest things in my adolescence was having the ability to differentiate between the things I own and the thoughts that I think.  It’s easy to think that the items we have define who we are.  I smoke copious amounts of ganja, I must be a hippie.  I’m in khakis, must be a yuppie.  I am then out of step is I don’t behave like the stereotypes associated with the things that I own, got to align the ideals (I never consciously thought that, but it’s at play).  And so on.  In the end, coming to grips with the jock/stoner/intellectual/artist/insert-your-preferred-description-here meant understanding that none of those labels fit:  none of the cookie cutters could even touch what I had discovered to be my preferences and desires.

So if you’re having a day where you might not feel like you are being all that you can be, take heart: it is the generation of my contemporaries and I (and the era for everyone else) in which we are permitted and able to decide our lot in the world.  The saturation of personal services, from yogalates to scientology now allows our interaction with the world to be almost exactly and only what we make of it.  So just think that perhaps, the circumstances haven’t been right, but they certainly have become so.  Throw open the windows of how you actually think, rather than how you were told to.  People are ultimately defined by what they create, and there are no rules on creation except for the limits of your own imagination.  I cannot help but think that society is in a great position to redefine itself for the better:  and it is only through our free expression that this is possible.  Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

Witting unwit

Even in the realm of people watching, I have found that there are as many ways to analyze the extent and content of human interaction as there are to read the Cantos of Ezra Pound (if you haven’t read this, give it a shot, though I warn you, it’s quite the trip).  The other day I decided to change the way I look at third party interaction and, just like realizing what the Wall actually meant or figuring out why crack dealers still live with their mothers (it stands to reason that they might be able to better, but no, no, no).

Anyway, the new lens through which I focused discourse was in terms of power.  Mind you, when I started I used a very broad form of power, that being the control that one person or idea exerts over another.  To clarify:  most of us can look at a couple, or conversation, or even our own thoughts, and see who (or which, qua our minds) carries the most force (power, hand, clout, say it as you will).  Some would call this the interplay of dominion and submission, extravert and introvert, but whatever we use; the overwhelming idea is one of precedence.

Now with precedence I have to admit subjugation (natural antonyms), and to watch these concepts in action I couldn’t help but notice an interesting phenomenon.  In all of the interactions that involved these polar ideas, I couldn’t shake the underlying notion of choice that wove its ubiquitous hands throughout the very fabric of the interaction.  All narration aside, even the most one sided interactions had an unforeseen element of intentionality.

By that I mean that the people involved in my armchair psychology were always (if unconsciously) trying to cement the place that each actor thought he/she should have.  Said another way, whether we mean to or not, in all of our interactions we attempt to prove who we think we are, rather than what we could be.

Now I know, enough on the personal responsibility thing.  But the more I see the more I believe that our lot is life is one that we choose.  Perhaps we were not held as children, perhaps we were.  Perhaps being held meant grappling with drunken family, perhaps it meant a loving embrace.  There’s a chance we were told that we would amount to nothing.  There’s an even greater chance we were told we could be anything.  But did we believe it?  Did we see our childhood affection (or lack thereof) as a sign that we were worthy (or worthless, as the case may be.

At basic, I have to say that we are in charge of not only how we perceive ourselves, and nothing more.  We have no control how others perceive us, at least not insofar as objectively changing the perceptions of others:  the only change in how we are seen is through the manifestation of how we see ourselves.  Thus if we decide to know for  ourselves that others are better than ourselves, they will be; if we believe ourselves we deserve a kind, smart, attractive unique mate with an esoteric yet undeniably appealing character we will find one.

I mean, try this one on…can something other than what we believe actually be the case?  Don’t take this one lightly; really think about what holds real weight in your ontology (things that we propose exist).  Think of the major successes our lives (we all have at least a couple, no crap from the dramatic folks):  it was from an unwavering belief in the veracity of our actions which kept us from succumbing (sadly, it only takes a little faith in failure to make that the case, but that’s a whole other can of worms).  But in the end, we did it yea?  And we wanted to take a megaphone to the nearest rooftop and let all those who thought we couldn’t do it know that their lack of faith where they could shove those ideas.

But I believe I digress.  The pith of all this is the idea that we are and only can be what we believe we are and what we will be.  Thus our lot in life is no one’s fault but our own.  Just look very carefully at the thoughts you think and how those thoughts which you believe so easily and constantly reinforce themselves though conversation and general interaction.  And for those who are confused as to why they aren’t where they though they would be I would say only that it isn’t because you are failure, but because you fail to realize that there are a million different ways to achieve the same goal:  perhaps it isn’t you, just the paradigm you are currently running on.  I would argue that so long as you live as you would like to live (you, just you, be selfish for a minute) you will succeed in the way that you want to.  If you could lead a proactive life, how would you run things?  Would you like to render the latent disparity of power and its resulting influence all together?  It isn’t a pipe dream, it’s just been forgotten amidst the sound bites and self help seminars.  Stay well, and good night.

specious communication

Sound bites and talking heads, quips and quotations, synopses and summaries, small talk and casual exchanges:  as of late I’ve been noticed the superb lack of real, full communication that our society seems to tell us is ok.  Sitting at work yesterday, I began wondering about the ways we converse, be it via email, snail mail, over the phone, face to face, and the ways that most of those aren’t conducive to getting to know someone, let alone talk about something that actually captures reality.

Said another way, I’ve noticed how little people actually listen to each other, in the sense that the listener actually tries to take in the point of what the speaker is trying to convey.  And to all those out there who like to think they are fantastic listeners, I invite you to remember the last time you empathized with someone.  Not in Hollywood sense, or the “I’ve been there” scenario; what I mean is talking with someone while assuming that my conversant is an intelligent, right individual.  

By intelligent, right individual, I mean a person whom we seek to understand.  Unless my approximation is off, in most conversation we still cling to the notion that our opinions are the ones that are actually backed in reason, while the opinions of others are in some way flawed, or misguided, or some other expression of poor design.  To get an idea of what I mean, take the first person you know that comes to mind when you think of “weird.”  Chances are this person just makes no sense, the type where you wonder if they aren’t perhaps dropped from the latest passing alien orbiter.  If the imagination doesn’t quite work, then take a good friend, or better yet, check yourself out.  That done, really try to think about what you know of them, really:  not the snap decisions or rumor or hearsay,   or what you think you think:  what do you really know of this person?  Try to understand them on their terms.

I only bring this up because I celebrated the Chinese New Year yesterday.  See in the real word, the Chinese New Year started in January, but in the corporate universe, we celebrate on a lazy Thursday to coincide with a birthday and training class “graduation” (seriously, Office Space has leaped from top 10 to top 3 as of late).  Point is, I had to mingle with my co-workers.  

Normally, I spend my days buried in a book, with breaks to talk to people on the phone.  I don’t get to chat much with my co-workers, except talk about that local sports team and other smallish chatter (although the weather remains untouched, probably because most of us stare out at the same windows with the same view; “heard its going to snow” doesn’t really matter when you can look out 8 ft windows to see for yourself).  Thursday though, we had to find someone we didn’t know, and learn about them.  So I learned that one co-worker never stops thinking about $$, ever.  She never talks to anyone, and what she told me is that when she gets home from work she goes to her computer to figure out how to make more.  I did not know this.  But what I also didn’t know, and started to become aware of, was that this was a woman who has made money her one true friend, and the thing was, she didn’t seem at all unhappy about that.  And while I would never really befriend this woman, it really has shed a whole new light on the reason why she never speaks to anyone except the customers who she beligerizes all day long.  She isn’t strange:  based upon the priorities she has her behavior is perfectly natural.  

Or another example.  I have a co-worker who is typically very quiet.  In fact, the longest conversation we have had consisted of “I heard there’s an enzyme in cheese which relaxes the mind” (I haven’t found if that is true, but in related news, milk has Vitamin D, which is also found with exposure to sunlight – go dairy).  What I found out when I finally got a real paragraph in was that she is a world traveler who actually mentors Romanian orphans.  Romanian orphans?!  No one expects Romanian orphans!

What I mean in all of this is the idea that perhaps we don’t know as much about what is going on as we would like to think.  This applies as much to misunderstandings and disagreements with our closest loved ones as it does with the examples above.  More than the words that come out of our mouths, it is the priorities behind them that carry the real meaning.  Next time ask yourself the why, as opposed to getting caught up in the what.  Because the minute you think you know what is going on, it will be proven abundantly clear to you that you don’t.

Note:  I’ve found that writing is in no way like riding a bike.  It only takes a week to really take the edge off the mind.  Now I sit, staring at the words that I have just written, and wonder if what I write will have any real relation to what I was trying to convey.  Regardless, I intend to better use language in the next couple posts, because we all have better things to do than wade our way through poorly expressed ideas.  And to everyone born in the Year of the Dog look out:  this year’s going to be wild!

The kairotic moment

     As the last of my tethers to the earth fall away, I cannot help but feel almost heavily as I lift off the ground.  The unbearable light of flight, I guess some tortured poet somewhere might say, but words, descriptions, they all sit heavily upon the ground.  As a youth I used to look skyward, but now, gently drifting farther away, I see all those below me as a fog.  A gentle, benign, yet all encompassing fog, it isn’t long before I can no longer see the people, the words, the experiences, all that I could see as the human condition; none of these have any defined boundaries any longer.  They all run together, as undulations in the effluvium:  here is a man taking advice too literally and seeing just how much better it is to “go fly a kite”, there sits two former soul mates, eating dinner in silence, with all that they have left to say effectively stopping any real connection that they still of course share…and me.
     Amidst the wonder of this new, seamless humanity that I see below, I see myself, though, that can’t be right, right?  There I am however, playing by the lake, or is that me flying the kite?  I almost want to stop my ascent, for a 12 story existential crisis is simply not what the doctor ordered, yet as my elevation grows in scope, so do does the disconnect from all that lay below.  I look around, to my trusted companion, yet I find no one.  I panic for a moment, only to remember that it is she who let loose the last of the fastenings, to unknowingly allow for the withdrawl from all that I though I knew.  Gosh is it pretty up here, who would have thought?
     I cannot relish the moment for too long though, for what washes over me is an intense sadness, one not befitting of the beautiful scene that lays spread so far below.  As I look around, expecting for the answer to leap out from behind, what exactly I don’t know, when it hits me square between the ears: nothing.  That’s what sets my head passionately a-spin, there is no one around, no one to share this beautiful moment, this moment of supreme detachment, this instant of unparalleled peace.  Stories always fall short: “you had to have been there” I heard one too often. A line I have told once too often, as I think now, clinging madly to what I see, the rushes of sound, the cold snap of the wind, the pleasant numb and rosy glow that I must be exuding:  even one ounce this twinkling slice of the time I call my life, I just want to take a snapshot and send it out as a Christmas card, a Hanukah card; damn, I want to send it for no reason.  And as I tilt suddenly askew, my question becomes not what might happen to me, but where I might be going.
     “The kairos is out there somewhere, and I can only hope I don’t lose everything that I know and love to find it.  In fact, what would I do with it when it finally comes across my path?”  Though for now I must push through these questions, there will be plenty of time to ask them when I become further removed from all that is common and safe.  And in the meanwhile, I could just swear that was a…

Introspect-reflect

I’ve never been a big one on cathartic blog posts:  in fact, I usually abhor the idea of folks sharing their personal lives in such an open forum as cyberspace.  From dating services to online self help seminars, I’ve always and firmly believed that your introspective self should stay within.

Every now and again though, I have to renege on my own ideas, especially when I cannot help but believe that someone might just benefit from the sharing of my inner ideas.  It is so easy to see the ways in which everyone is different, so easy to become a stoic, or a martyr when we believe that our pain and trauma and convolution is ours uniquely, that we are alone in an uncaring universe, that the advice of our friends and loved one cannot strike the true chord that resonates with us.

As my days roll on though, I have found that the fire that drives us out of bed in the morning, the fire that fuels our passions, our loves, our lives, is one which burns within all of humanity:  we are never alone, never unloved, unless in some way we choose it for ourselves.  Only we can be our own worst enemy, after all, and we can only get over ourselves with a bit of personal honesty.

Personal honesty.  It seems such a trivial and self-evident truth, yet we just cannot be honest with others unless we can be honest with ourselves.  This involves a lot more that merely taking account of what we think is going on inside us, it is a commitment; a commitment to reflexive translucence of the ever changing facts concerning who we are and how we feel.

My feelings on privacy prevent me from going on big rubbery one in cyberspace, yet suffice to say I’ve taken a bit of shock in the past couple of days, thus bringing this little post to life.  It’s just so easy to accept the status quo, no matter how unsatisfying it may be, in lieu of taking a look inside and realizing the necessary changes in our lives that must be made in order for us to continue to grow as people:  to move forward at all in fact, in the horizontal backwards moving escalator that is life.

Moving forward, another surprisingly difficult truism of our lives.  It’s so easy to hide behind such wit and wisdom as “Take what you like and leave the rest,” and “Don’t throw the baby out with the bath water” and even “Know thyself.”  Especially “know thyself.”  What does this really mean?  I used to think that it involved merely being aware of the multitude of angles from which we attack the decisions which shape our lives:  I believe know that it also involves making the tougher comparison of knowing who you are as contrasted with where you want to be, for knowing thyself now is only useful in the present moment, nowhere in that phrase allows for the essential characteristic of improving the condition of our lives as a living organism.  While science may live in a vacuum, we do not and necessarily cannot.

What I mean is this.  I have had, in the past 48 hours, feelings which have lain dormant for quite some time have run screaming to the surface of my psyche and which, I have to admit, threw me for quite a loop.  What I had neglected in my inventory of self (my ontology, to be more specific), was what I managed to unconcern myself with because it wasn’t a part of my life.  I’m sorry to vague, but I need to keep confidential certain info to protect the guilty and innocent alike.  It did prove however, the necessity of making harsh choices in our lives, that sometimes the baby needs to go out with the bathwater for the ultimate good of ourselves.

For the one thing we really cannot control are others, and as much as we would like to say that we know them better than they know themselves (and oftentimes, we do) we can’t force them to see what is actually going on.  To use a really beaten analogue “You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink.”  I’ve turned down quite a bit of wise advice in my day, and my own offerings often fall on deaf ears, but I understand now truly that we also need others to help see ourselves (So to all of you who stuck by while I refused to listen, my apologies, kind world).

I guess where this is driving is the more final idea that we need to be right with ourselves, and put to hope and hope alone that those we care about will come to see the truth.  I have run myself ragged over the years trying to spread glad tidings and good times to others, often at the expense of myself, and it is only now that I can see the folly in that.  A lesson taught is not a lesson learned, especially when we don’t want to hear the moral that it teaches.

So as tough as it is to say, for today I have to preach a thoroughgoing “just let go.”  To treat others with respect to what we know about them rather than what they know about themselves is to set ourselves up for suffering:  someone really cannot be held responsible for what they don’t know is there.  That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t get frustrated, (for we care about these people damn it!) but all we can do is hope that when they finally come around (if they ever do), they have enough stop playing games with themselves, and especially others.

Happiness is not difficult, but it most frequently clashes with desire.  I’m not entirely sure yet how to maintain both joy and desire (my Buddhist koans specifically believe that you cannot, but I think that’s a cop out), how to walk the razor thin line between care and disregard, how to love without the pain of our love’s missteps.  For me, a life without desire is a life not worth living, yet a life which limits happiness in any way is almost as unsatisfactory.  My life is going to make some pretty wholesale changes shortly, so all of those out there who worry that the rut that they are in is a permanent endeavor can take heart:  it really doesn’t matter who you are or what makes you suffer and long for, you are in command of your own journey.  When you can look inside and try to find every fiber of your being, past, present and future, then truly, to use another analogy, the world is your oyster.

I call shenanigans!

I would normally have more to say about a beautiful Stella Award winner but I truly believe that this is explanation enough that things have gotten out of control. This black and white mentality that either threatens to or currently is polarizing this country has led a judge to be absurd, a mentally ill woman to threaten to break talk show hosts' legs in a court of law and get away with it. Bullocks to the whole business...

Dating back to his days at NBC, before he moved to CBS in 1993, late-night talk show host David Letterman was plagued by a persistent stalker.Margaret Mary Ray became the subject of headlines and the brunt of morethan a few jokes with her activities over the course of a decade, whichincluded breaking into Letterman's Connecticut home, stealing his car andintroducing herself to a highway toll-taker as his wife.

Before she knelt in front of an oncoming train in western Colorado in1998 to end her life, she had spent 10 months in prison and 14 months ina mental institution for stalking Letterman -- and had moved on tostalking astronaut Story Musgrave.

Colleen Nestler, too, fantasizes a special connection with Letterman.In December 2005, though, that imaginary relationship soured, at least inher mind. Nestler, 59, sought a temporary restraining order, contendingthat Letterman harmed her with "bankruptcy [sic], mental cruelty andsleep deprivation" continuously since 1994, a period during which shelived in New Jersey, Brooklyn, N.Y., Camden, Maine, and finally Santa Fe,N.M.

She checked off options on a form filed in New Mexico's First JudicialDistrict Court in Santa Fe to request that the TV personality be requiredto stay "at least 3 yards away" from her; not "threaten, harm, alarm orannoy" her or her family members; not block her in public places; and not(image placeholder)phone or contact her.

She additionally requested in her own handwriting that Letterman beordered not to "Think of me, and RELEASE ME from his mental harassment &hammering" (her emphasis).

The relationship she has concocted in her mind did not involvedelusions of phone calls or encounters in the physical world. It involvesmessages she contends Letterman communicated to her in code via his showafter he moved from NBC to CBS in 1993 to host "The Late Show With DavidLetterman" -- coded messages he sent to her, she said in her courtfiling, during every single show.

Among those "messages" she claims Letterman conveyed was a proposal ofmarriage when Letterman uttered, during a teaser for his show, "Marry me,Oprah" -- referring to her by "the first of many code names," inNestler's mind, rather than referring to daytime talk show host OprahWinfrey.

In a six-page, typewritten chronology of their "relationship," which,as she relates it, began when she was married and living in Nevada,Nestler holds Letterman responsible as the "root cause" of her slide intobankruptcy. She contends Letterman used words, "jestures" and "eyeexpressions" -- and even the songs of guests on his show -- to send hermessages and respond to her, and to urge her to train as his co-host. Shefurther describes following Letterman's coded instructions, includingstaying awake through the night to watch other TV shows at his behest andmoving to New York, only to receive the brush-off when he did not contacther at her hotel room or take her when he went on a Caribbean vacation.

Her story also ensnares Regis Philbin, Kathie Lee Gifford and"Frasier" star Kelsey Grammer, all of whom, she writes, also communicatedwith her through the TV and knew of her "relationship" with Letterman.

(image placeholder)But while Ray's delusions got her incarcerated, the judge in Nestler'scase has taken a different approach. Rather than do anything to try todiscourage her and thereby protect Letterman from yet another stalker, Judge Daniel Sanchez instead affirmed her delusions by granting herrequest and issuing a restraining order.

Sanchez signed the order prohibiting Letterman from contacting her andrequiring him to stay away from her -- all of which, no doubt, Lettermanwould have no difficulty abiding by. The judge also directed the TV starto appear for a hearing later on whether to make the restraining orderpermanent, although Sanchez granted a motion by Letterman's attorneys foran expedited hearing.

Letterman's lawyers, understandably, want to quash the restrainingorder. Jim Jackoway, his Los Angeles attorney, calls the charges inNestler's complaint "obviously absurd and frivolous" and "an unfortunateabuse of the judicial process."

"While Ms. Nestler may deserve compassion and assistance, allowing herto bring claims against Mr. Letterman is not in her interests or theinterests of justice," Letterman's attorneys said in their motionchallenging the restraining order. "Celebrities deserve protection oftheir reputation and legal rights when the occasional fan becomesdangerous or deluded."

The judge's move also has concerned at least one advocate for thementally ill.

Ginny Wilson, a Santa Fe representative for the National Alliance forthe Mentally Ill, won't criticize Sanchez, but says she wants to use thissituation as an opportunity to educate people about the signs ofpsychological problems. She calls Nestler's application "fantastical."

"It's obvious in [the] story that the judge has made a mistake," shesays. "And [now] other judges or lawyers can see that a lapse in judgment(image placeholder)can put a person in a public situation that could be dangerous for her.Maybe it will help a judge to recognize when a mentally ill person isattacking an organization or an individual out of their delusions."

Sanchez says he doesn't sign every temporary restraining order thatcomes before him, but will sign one when it's warranted.

"If they make a proper pleading, then I grant it," he said.

Perhaps, then, the judge has some delusions of his own.

In a follow-up hearing, Nestler said in court that "Should [Letterman] ever come to New Mexico -- and let it be recorded in this court -- if hecomes near me or sends someone on his behalf, I will break their legs andestablish proof of my story."

"Break their legs?" asked a shocked Judge Sanchez, finally waking up.

"Yes, I will," Nestler said. "It's the only recourse I have fortangible proof." Told to not make threats in court, Nestler continued,"It's not a threat. I'm saying it mainly because I want the court to knowI tried to avoid this. The man has plans to include me in his plans, andI refuse."

A plan to include her in his plans? Now that's planning!

"Who's to stop him from taking a flight here?" she continued. "Who'sto stop him from dressing up in some disguise? He has intentions with me.He constantly harasses me. He's a very powerful man. He's into mindcontrol. He's into control and manipulation."

Has he ever contacted her? Sanchez asked.


"He has called just to remind me to think of him by calling andhanging up," she said. "It's a trick he's done. He will use any device athis hand that's subtle and undetectable by any court of law."

With that, Sanchez had finally had enough and voided his previous(image placeholder)restraining order. It was in force for about two weeks.

2 freakin' weeks? A judge gave that woman restraining order? That's why I gotta call shenanigans, there is no way some judge would be that stupid. Seriously, say that people are getting dumber but that takes the cake and shares none with others. I say that there is something more sinister going on and I refuse to point fingers until I know for sure, but I might just have to devote more time to it. I think one of the causes is most likely disillusionment coupled with misdirection. Any ideas just let me know, but don't worry we can get through this mismanagement of humanity, just as we have countless times before.

Castle-builder extraordinaire

You know, through the haze of relaxation after a long days work, a thought popped into my mind, and I can’t help but say that it stuck.  Mind you, this was one of those quickly fleeing ideas of dubious base, one of those notions where upon waking the only utterance that fits was “This seemed like a good idea.”

Not in way that college lets us bandy it about, more of a fugacious (quickly withering) potential conceit that perhaps we should turn our sights to one of the basic characteristics of humanity:  the complex.  Now, we all most likely have a couple, and for sure most can recognize it in others, but for salience sake I would like to say that the existence of our neuroses is tenuous at best.  As any $19.99 self help book would attest (I would imagine, at least) who we are is some metaphysical spirit self who nurtures all of our positive qualities, while living freely of the negative qualities that people gossip about at the water cooler.  Now I couldn’t help but think if who we are involves the things that we betray ourselves about (i.e. “I just need to show the world how ______ I am”) is who we are we are inevitably destined for failure.

What I want to propose instead is perhaps a better way of gauging who we are is by who we want to be.  I don’t want to insinuate that the dreamers who dreams have no root in reality are the compass by which we should guide ourselves, but for isn’t it in striving rather than correcting that we learn all the lessons we need to?  I don’t know if I am just way behind the cool kids on this one, but is the better barometer where you are going then where you have been?

I wouldn’t bring this up except for my further forays into the corporate and ‘real world’ have taught me that my coworkers and contemporaries like to occasionally treat themselves to a fit of self-abuse.  From the folks that I trained with (we dropped from eight to four in a mere three days; I would imagine that there is more to follow) to the old salt on 2 weeks notice, I heard quite a bit about how most endeavors of both my employer and the position I was learning were just some big corporate scheme and how this job would ruin me and how they couldn’t hack it and why everyone they talked to was a big ol’ tool shed and so on.  

What were they thinking about?  What was wrong with the whole big thing rather than what could be right about the same enterprise.  Turns out the next day I ran into some folk who like to think about where they were going to go…I heard nothing about how damnedly evil my employ was, rather how much sweet extra cash they were raking in.  And I too partook in that sweet cash.

So after much rambling, I guess I am trying to say that attitude is dependent upon aspiration and aspiration is the measure of that which we truly are and who we present ourselves to the world to be.  If you had to choose, would you prefer someone who wanted to fix what was wrong or one who might plunge (how headlong is up to personal discretion and inclination) into where he/she might be going?  I guess I think you should hug your friendly local dreamer or, equally as excellent in my book, hug the kid who knows what he/she wants:  I really believe that inspiration is created only through those who dare to look towards the future.  I don’t know, the whole not what we are-what we ought to be thing.  Now looking ahead I see some rest:  I want to try to fly somewhere in REM tonight – stay tuned.

Rides and Riders

Rollercoasters and Merry-go-rounds.  I just can’t help but to admit that I both love and hate the little amusements:  they’re fantastic when drunk reliving my youth at Cooney Island or the Great Escape or your nearest 6 flags, but I truly and thoroughly despise the other, more insidious kind.  You know, I never really appreciated the subtlety of those two little phrases when it comes to our personal lives, yet they ring so true:  neither go anywhere fast, but the former at least has some peaks and valleys to keep it interesting, and goes nowhere a lot faster than its latter little cousin. More importantly though, through it all I’ve come to be aware that we don’t actually get to the point of making some lame metaphor (or simile, depending on context) without first making some choices (decisions might actually be better) which fly in the face of our good sense and intuition.

Whew, glad to get that out.  But aside from figuring out the nuances of carnival comparisons, it’s really hit home as of late that each alternative we decide to take we should do so with the utmost care.  I say this not from current personal experience (though the past few months did help bring the notion to the front of my mind) and the position that the choices we make mostly always carry with them hidden implications that we can only sort out long after they have become an entrenched part of our psyche.

I could use really personal, deep rooted ideas, the paradigms that have been the prime movers in turning me into who I am today.  I could do all that, but in the publicity of cyberspace I would also be that kid who’s throwing his heart out on his sleeve for people who he doesn’t even know.  NOPE.  If you want that, and care enough to know, drop me a line (and if the readership of this gets large enough, I might consider it too).  Instead I will use the generic abusive relationship, either mentally or physically.  Most of the folks I have talked to about f&^$*d relationships of this nature have always used the same reasons:  “I love him/her,”  “I just don’t know what I would do without him/her,”
“We’re soul mates,” that kind of thing.  Aside from the fact that this is maddeningly codependent, think for a moment of the implicit assumptions behind such statements.  What they are in effect saying is, respectively “I cannot love another like I love him/her (lies),”  “Without them I am less of a person (fuck that, you can’t be any less or more than yourself),”  and “Even though we have a lot of problems, through the powers of habit and perhaps a shared interest or two I have decided to cling to this thing running with the notion that I will never find someone else who makes me happy,” and so on.

Although the importance of smoothing out this little quirk of thought is self evident, I cannot help but go on.  I have see relationships of this type turn self-confident, outgoing members of the populace into shells of their former selves:  those same people forgetting why they start fooling around with their preferred gender in the first place.  What they missed along the way was the implicit assumption that they are in some way not good enough:  not good enough to be loved (by anyone), not good enough to make someone else happy.  

Basically the idea is that these people are somehow less than themselves, incomplete without an external force.  This can include the misuse of drugs and other inebriants, sex, food, decisions of a particular type, and so on.  I would never say that we should give up these things:  hell, I love them all.  But if one is not secure in the reasons why then they are unaware of the what that is going on.  I realized that some of my least liked traits began in grade school, for Christ sakes.  It is a different thing to believe that you know yourself, and quite another to actually know who you are (which never changes except through dedicated effort to yourself, it doesn’t come from any external source).  I’ve just hit critical mass with friends and contemporaries wasting their talents on things and people that drag them down.  Our genome determines how good each of us can potentially be, we don’t need ourselves to make things more difficult.  

Blame the Praetorians

The idea of religion has always struck a pretty off chord in my book.  From the idea of hell to tithing to the widespread corruption and NAMBLA-esque behavior of those in authority, I (and all you wonderful contemporaries) have grown up in a time where religion is not only inessential but downright repulsive.  As of late however, I cannot help but see the reasons not only for the existence of the various religions, but spiritual schemes in general.  Now don’t think that good ol’ IJB has found God or anything like that, but I guess I have recently become aware that the various religious doctrines and spiritual systems have the benefit of a broad reaching ethic that actually does do what it is intended:  to allow a system of behavior which escapes the necessary contextualization of behavior in the natural ethic that “good” people must follow who do not have such rules of behavior to fall back on.

First though, I have to say that religion stands on very tumultuous ground for me.  Born and raised in Catholic School (all 12 years bitches!), I learned not God’s love, but how to become a consumer:  of sex, drugs and rock and roll.  Most of the religious people I knew throughout that “education,” in fact, most of the religious types I meet today, could never give me a better explanation for faith other than “Well JC says…” or “...because the Bible…” which is of course just ridiculous:  conventional wisdom is what produced the Crusades, the systematic torture and murder of dissenting views and so on (I think the horse is dead and properly flogged).  But underneath all of the dogma and mental retardation of those who practice, I realized the other day that I just can no longer ignore the ‘point’  of what all those folks have been violently fighting about, that is, the theoretical ideas for behavior that underlie all religions:  the common denominator for how to live our lives.

What I neglected to remember though is the notion that perhaps I do not have it all figured out.  For example, we are often left with two diametrically opposed ideas for how to deal with others – ‘stand up for yourself’ and ‘just let it go’.  Now we all suffer from the interplay of these two, and when we don’t apply it properly we end up thinking of both ourselves and others as “bitches’ or ‘doormats’ and having some regrets (often once cooler heads prevail) that perhaps we could have handled this situation with a little more compassion and tact, and a little less defensiveness or whatever.  Now who has said something to the effect of “Be kind to your neighbor” or “Spread compassion only throughout the world”?  That’s right, Jesus and the Buddha.

And to be honest, in my years of Catholic training I have never once found a “kill others who do not believe your faith” or “you must extort money from your parishioners,” in the Bible.  In my Buddhist studies not one koan said “We must oppress the rights of others in order to maintain order,” and so on.  What do they say?  Well, read some spiritual texts and find out, but if we all are to espouse the positive ideals that these people wrote about, well, I’m pretty sure the world would in fact be a better place.  (Think of Jesus going psycho in the marketplace, consumers take note).

The point is that I really believe that I (as well as many, many others) have put the cart before the horse.  We don’t hate religion, we hate the people who prove how well it works.  We hate dogma, but since when is being kind to others and forgiving them for most of the mean, thoughtless, generally human things they do a problem?  I don’t like Church, but in theory, how much more do we pay to go Disneyworld for a few jollies (the buck or two that’s put in the basket pales in comparison to the $2.50 water or the $7 mutant turkey leg, simple economics) than to hang out with some like minded folks and have bake sales?  My call then is this:  while religion in practice may no longer relevant, the principles and ideas behind them still hold true.  

In the end, when Jehovah’s show up at my door, I still tell them I worship all that is dark and macabre, and send them on their way.  I still argue with priests when I run into them, as should all folks.  I still rag on folks that spend time at the Word of Life (such hot folks, but such a cult – yea Upstate!), but these systems of spirituality are still great for the occasional alternate viewpoint on a given troubling situation.  All in all, when we have qualms, we must above all make sure exactly what it is we have a problem with.

Somnolence

Every time I take a long absence from the world of blogs, online communities and whatever else I might end up in I always have a problem getting back into some sort of groove to get my ideas out in a way that other folks might see and enjoy them.  I’ve found that any sort of artistic endeavor, essentially anything that is “Productive” in the abstract sense of the word, is completely unlike learning to ride a bike.  In fact, it seems that the ability to learn new tricks, be they writing something relevant on your blog post, learning that sweet Zepp solo you’ve always wanted to come from your fingers, whatever, wants to leave your abilities as soon as you learn them.  I used to get pretty teed off about this sort of happening, until I noticed that this revealed a trait about humanity that I did not expect:  we are actually set up to be creatures of habit, hard wired to abhor change, even for the better.

I know that sounds kinda weird, but think about it.  From abusive relationships to getting fit, our bodies are set up to fight us every step of the way:  why do you think you are so good at failing?  That aside, what benefit might we gain from being so damn stubborn when it comes to ourselves?  Wouldn’t evolution (or whatever is actually going on) actually entail and promote change in order for species to best evolve to their surroundings?

I’m learning that the resounding answer is Hell No!  Although I am not as sure of the details of Darwin’s theory as I should be, I have come to see recently that what nature wants is a static equilibrium, homeostasis if you will, in which it doesn’t need to evolve or adapt anymore.  Just like the human body, which is functioning best (biology admits this) when nothing is changing:  the balance of chemicals and nutrients is exactly what your body is looking to receive and so on.  There is no room is homeostasis for exercise, for learning new skill, for completing anything out the ordinary.  All told, nature is a really lazy sonofabitch.

What worries me however is that as natural creatures with the fun bonus of rationality, this loafing quality of nature infests our minds as well as our bodies.  I mean, in the search for a reason why we so enjoy doing ostensibly nothing but sit on the couch and worry about when we are going to turn off the TV I have come to find that, God (or whatever) damn it, we are hard wired that way!

Now the last thing I want to give anyone a reason for underachieving (if we know each other, we’ve probably come up with plenty between us), but what I call for is for all you folks who get so ramped up about how their passions do not some to fruition TODAY is to chill out.  Seriously, calm down, because while our minds carry in them the potential for infinite creativity and potential, we are limited by our deadbeat bodies.  Now I’m not sure of the nature of the relationship between the two things is, but I know that it is only through hours and hours of repetition that we trick ourselves into believing, through practice, that our new activity is something we have always done and were meant to continue doing.

I really wish that I could add something more productive to the whole thing than “lighten up, we just aren’t that good at learning and thought” and in time, I will.  At least I want to take a look at a biological cause of the mendicant side of our nature.  So yes, that means that in addition to the neuroses that we manage to give ourselves we also have to deal with a physicality which loves our neuroses and prefers them to the labors of change.

I will get to the bottom of all this, if I have to one day burn through a PhD or two to do it.  As per my own advice, I’m gonna have to fight a bit with my own mental and physical somnolence until I get to the bottom of how we can be so good to others and so terrible to ourselves.  In the meanwhile though, I have a loftier goal, and that is to win the Nobel Prize, the Nobel Prize in Blogging.  So let me know how I’m doing, 'cause it’s hard to get those in charge to take notice.  A bientot.

Greetings from the ooze

Hello and Greetings from the Upstate! I like this whole out of state thing: I really wanna just wank off like some traveling radio show telling everyone how their little slice of the world is THE best slice of the world. And I can, cause it raised me. Nice. In all reality though it's really hit home (no pun intended) that "getting out" should be balanced with remembering where one comes from, the area that you needed to get away from in the first place.

I mean, so far I have had the quintessential vacation. If I want to reminisce, I can actaully go to the place where the it was first formed. I got to watch a Giants game with an old high school contemporary (it was fun Karin, maybe we'll get our season tickets by the time we're 40 -- and when we do, I'll see ya at every one). Got to kick it with the holmes (I don't think we could have had enough tequila to make the Albany drinking scene less disabled than it was), hung out fashionably with the rents (Apologies, but I had to read parents and fashionable in the same sentence; it had been so long that I had to make it happen) and just generally remembered why and the fact that my younger years were held together by some pretty kickin things to do. That's not to say that they are on par with today's days and nights (I mean, we can now consume intoxcating things, enough said), but considering the vast amounts of nothing I knew about myself and my world during my upbringing things were so bad. Like drinking a bottle of whisky between 2 people in an hour before mayday -- Jesus christ, I remember nothing but Tom, myself, and the shaggin' wagon waking up scattered about the track at RPI: 7 miles and four hours from where we started.

I could go on, but I am currently in the middle of a little experiment: can I make the place where I grew up fun in the current time? I'm optimistic, and I promise to keep you current of anything truly noteworthy. Happy holidays everyone, I'll be home on the 29th and in the meanwhile, don't do anything that I wouldn't do.

For every tail there's a head in the dark

And for every thought there are a million ways to say it incorrectly. A note on writers block, it does make for some interesting thinking. I mean, what better act of imagination than trying to pull something out the air and into the world? Your mind can effortlessly drift around countless ideas, from the mundane thoughts on the day to the daunting task of trying to qualify that je ne sais quoi and present it to the world. I mean, it's only something too deep for words.

Too deep for words. It has occured to me the fundamental problem of language is that we artificially created it in order to do things accomplished, not say what we mean. When one thinks of a purple elephant (pause, pause, pause) I think I can say that you did not think of the words 'paisly elephant' -- you imagined an oddly patterned pachaderm. Now try to think of happy. Try again. It's hard to picture hmmm? Perhaps some memories which made you happy popped into your head. Could have been someone with a smile on their face. Either way, I'm pretty sure you couldn't get a picture of "Happy".

Yet "Happy" along with other terms of feeling get bandied about on TV like they are going out of style. And I make the call to everyone that perhaps we should take a moment to consider something before doing it again. As I mentioned before, language is by its nature descriptive; I would argue that it can only describle things we can see: it breaks down unuseably when attempting things that I call 'Inner senses'. Inner senses are completely opaque to all but oneself, yet these are the things that we so badly need to communicate.

We do have a method, and that is why we have the arts. Being a believable actor, a talented musician, a gifted painter: all of these in a lay sense entail being able to convey feeling to others: taking a slice of that ineffable now and describing it perfectly. All with the same language, all with the same words. Yet this ability is often lost in medias res: your letter is received not as an apology but a cheap dig, your clever comment is misinterpreterd (ever have the "oh now I get it" moment after a conversation) and so on.

So in the end, I envision a spectrum of language. The spectrum is based on symbolism and ranges from cut, dry and defined (philosophy, academic writing) to highly figurative (poetry, lyrics) with a huge grey area in the middle. On this view, the trouble with communication between say, lovers or friends, arises when they are assuming different areas in the field. Said otherwise, aside from the connnotated facets of word meaning (how one speaks), a line like "Don't fall through the stars" can either be a non sequitor, or perhaps a brilliant lyrical line (go Mike Doughty!). It can be either, but not both, at least not until retrospect.

This is a tough case to hash out because most people have no care to say what they mean: the typical descriptive (object dependant) way of communique is fine. But try it sometime. Use words in obscure meanings, a new way, make it fit the inner senses. Understand the linguistic power of "I look to like if looking liking move," really think about it. I've recently come to understand the power of an errant word (just happened one day while watching the snowfall with a wicked hangover). I mean, ladies, would you prefer "hey, I like you" or would you prefer "I closed my eyes, and the thought of you made the troubles of my day just fall away" (or maybe both, or neither, and only if the situation warranted of course: I would never recommend just kinda throwing that around to everyone). Although it's kinda hand-wavey, I really want to bring to light the notion of the importance of cutivating the care of our language that it deserves. Our langauge is enourmous: estimates put it between 500,000 in the Oxford English Dictionary (1,000,000 including scientific words), and the typical college graduate's vocabulary is about 60,000 active words: we have the capacity, lets use it.

P.S. Since Tiki Barber is the man (I can't stress this enough) I'm gonna passs the keyboard off to Michael Eisen: Barber, the first Giants running back with multiple Pro Bowl appearances since Rodney Hampton in 1992 and '93, is having an extraordinary season. His team-record 220-yard outing last week against Kansas City increased his season total to 1,577 yards, another franchise standard that he can add to in the season's final two games. It was his fifth consecutive 100-yard game, another record. Barber is second in the NFL in rushing yards. He also has 421 receiving yards, which gives him 1,998 yards from scrimmage, 258 yards more than runner-up Shaun Alexander of Seattle. Barber needs 99 yards to break the Giants single-season record he set last year and he is on the verge of being the first player to lead the NFL in yards from scrimmage in back-to-back seasons since the Chiefs' Priest Holmes in 2001 and '02. This year, Barber has twice been selected as NFC Offensive Player of the Week, including this week. Damn right.

Ever longer wavelengths...

It's times like these that I rue our evolutionary design. For example, as Clvin and Hobbes so nicely put it, we really got the short end of the stick ("No 2-inch fangs, no opposable toes, no prehensile tail...), especially when it coes to winter.

I mean damn, all I want to do is hiberate. Although that wouldn't be too bad a deal right? All you gotta do is eat about 100,000 calories to fatten up, find a nice little cave for a few months and wake up nice and fit in the spring. Perfect, now why is it instead I get to curse the winter all the way through, in all of its below 0 glory? Beacuse I am just sure that there is some cosmic broker, kinda like a sports agent for new species, bartering for various traits in exchange for others. The mudskipper, for example, has both lung and gills, and moves from place to place by flopping around. Lyrebirds disguise themselves by mimiking the sounds of the forest -- in cluding chainswas and camera. We have rationality (a beta version if you ask me), and we traded it for all the nifty little add-ons that mark other animals: no gills, no hibernation, useless young. I wonder sometimes if we should have fired the cosmic agent and see if we can't renegotiate.

All kidding aside, I can't help but notice the notion of trade-offs. Just as humans 'traded' the ability to be sentient for god knows what (I know we gave up a tail and opposable toes), there appears to be a trade off among humans as well. Take a look at your friends, your aquaintances, your coworkers, whatever. Now exclude all of the useless people: those sad, miserable middle managers and pessimism mongers: what they traded for I have no idea. Now look who is left. Each of the friends you have you have because of things that they inspire in you and things that you are inspired to do together. You like them for the things they know and the content of their character and perhaps even that ineffable something that happends when you two are together (I call this the best case scenario: in real life I've found friends are found more over a bottle or under a joint, or in between the lines on the mirror, my quality to them as a wingman or who they know, but that's too depressing and outside the scope of what I want to say). These are the folks who complete you, who fill in the trade-offs that you have made qua your own life.

Before you go screaming about that there is abuse of the word friend going on here, take a close look. Chances are, except for perhaps an all purpoe buddy that is your equal in every way, you have different friends that are good at different things: some friends you can go to the gym with, only a couple you would like to go into battle with at the bar (another criteria but same priciple), still others you might not have wanted you other friends to meet. I know I've got some friends that I wouldn't have a personal conversation with to save my life: they have traded the ability to be a confidant for something else, some folks even naturally make us feel better about ourselves due to their inability (most of the time they have traded things like social skills and charisma for one ludicrous dream, but that's fun too)

Now after that murky little paragraph, what am I actually trying to say? You'll have to give me a little latitude, any talents I may have with strings of words leaves me at an incredble clip; but I'm saying a few different things. (1) Our little human minds only have so much we can take on (thus, sorry folks, unless you got some sweet genes between the parents, you may have a chance at being that gifted writer, OR a musician who can make a living, OR be an elite athlete but never more than 1). We just aren't good enough at concept aquisition and application. Thus the old adage may be true that we can be anything we want to be, but we gotta choose, NOW. (2) Whether we know it or not, our friends complete who we are: ideally each one carries a character trait or ability at which they exceed our own abilities and conversely, they also carry traits that are less developed as us: they way we need them they need us as well. (3) It is only in this way that we can overcome the little problem of evolution that I brough up earlier.

So where do friends factor into this weird little equation? What is the connection between friends and the trade-off? Well, just because we aren't talented in something doesn't mean that we don't still immensly enjoy it. That's why nerds watch football, groupies exist, and people can and do find a nicely developed mind appealing. So, am I gonna go hang out with Tiki Barber (my hero, and if you don't know, now you know: you've been warned) to chat football? Nah, too much security. But what I can do is find a couple friends. Between us we will all do multiple things: complain about the officiating, consume beer, make biting commments about John Madden and Al Michaels and $&*%%#$(_&^$ (some things are too sacred to be spoken of outside of NFL, especially NY Giants, hours). We will all participate, and while one friend may not be the thickest book in the library, another may not have the years of building anomosity toward color commentary and so on: sum total we have all that we need in the level that we need it.

The conclusions we can draw from just these three claims can range from self-help to sociological with side trips into social psychology and economics (yes, economics), but I will try to let practical wit reign here. Basically, we cannot feel bad about our failings, assuming we are trying: we just aren't capable enough to be the best at all that we are interested in: such is the human condition. But what we do have is friends, which let us glimpse a bit of how we want to be, and remind us of some of the things we are thankful we are not, and you know you have found a friend when you can say that you have found someone who all at once: inspires you, frustrates you, confuses you and clarifies you (the list could go on forever, think about opposing pardigm existing at once). Basically, when you've got good people we need not fire our evolutionary agent: he may not negotiate well, but he/she's got a pretty good eye for talent nonetheless.

Note: Why the friend kick? Well, it's what the holidays do to me I can't help it. Thanks guys, you know who you are and I really appreciate it. Hello again to the old CCHS chums recently refound (thanks MySpace), I'm coming home on the 23rd, we gotta go out for some drinks and general hell raising. Why the Giants theme? WELL, THE GIANTS ARE F^*($&^ 10-4! Besides, Tiki is my hero, and as of this post the NFL's leading rusher. Why the evolution kick? Well, it gets very easy, especially in the winter, to think of everything we DON'T rather than all the neat stuff that we DO. Time to even the score.

Yea, So, Ah, Right, And Um...

In place of the normal words which spill forth from my adaquetly useful fingers, I've found that today, nothing really comes out. I even tried thinking, "well, what is this blog? How can I add to it?" But inside and underneath and of the discipline bending that I hoped to do I realized that I have been sorely lacking in one area: the day off.

Behold my friends, the power of the day off. Today I have a list of things to do, and I'd imagine that they will get done, but on my own damn time. There is such a premium on having every moment be so full of meaning and desire and profundity and truth that today, I am going to be the exception that proves the rule. For as it turns out, the definition of a productive day comes in so many different forms (just like intelligence).

For example. Today I have done everything that I would like to do. I've slept in, played some guitar, opened a myspace account, done battle with said myspace account and was forced to retreat, took out some recycling, drank (and am currently drinking) a couple of beers, read a little, shipped off some email. In fact, this post is the most concerted thing I have done all day. I still have to make some phone calls, to friends that I have deliquent in staying in proper touch with, but this is something that I can't wait to do.

The glorious day off is made all the more glorious by the fact that I don't get very many. The freelance philosopher/lifeguard/retail associate/personal trainer as it turns out doesn't get many chanes to unwind; between living very frugally and having an ever changing schedule of things. So when I have 24 while hours to do whatever fuck-all I wish, I get to take it.

In fact, I'm gonna write this whole day off. I just gonna say that this is the time when I take type B to a whole new level. In the search for balance we must probe the extremes in order to find the nuances that still exist in moderation: a new level of description for balance. Today is ungrammatical. Today, I will misuse a semicolon: in fact, I plan to misuse all of the symbols of puctuation for my own dastardly means;

I am always amazed at the difference a {day} off means. It has occured to me, both anectdotally and introspectively, that I am a pretty laid back person. I agree, though what i realized the other day is that this all relative. With my background in learning to relax and just letting go I have managed to find more and more opportunities when I could let another thing go into the water always flowing under the bridge. I won't get into examples, for fear of making someone uptight on my behalf, but suffice to say I do get wound, just differently.

So what does this mean? It means that today, all of you can rest easy, because I am relaxing for you all. If you're feeling stressed today, just think, WWID (this does not include using substances if the situation does not call for it). I question the value of having a shot or with your boss, unless you think you may be on candid porn, in which case a shot might precipitate your ascension to stardom.

As for me? I might take a nap, though I think that I might just be too relaxed to move the 4.5 feet to get there. I might read a book: luckily there is a sweet book of poetry by Symborska staring me in the face. Bonus. I could just topple from my chair, but then I would have to climb back up. Damn* You know, I think I'm going to do none of the above: instead, I'm going to turn on my lava lamp and watch cartoons (Venture Bros. rock!). A bientot tout les persons! Au revoir!

My day

I just want to cry. I want to cry for the customers who wander in
looking more for a conversation than for a purchase. I want to weep
for for all those who don't realize the amount of love that is
potentially all around them. I choke on all the hateful words that I
have both said and heard in my day.

I want to fight. I want to fight all those who shy away from certain
others in the name of popularity. You want to be cool? Stop caring
what other people think and start caring about yourself and your
ephemeral happiness. Where do you get off thinking that your joy is
tied in any way to a trend or paradigm set by those with budgets
beyond our comprehension and character about as deep as a kiddie pool?

My heart hangs heavy as I realize all the moments I wasted, all the
carnage that I have caused, for it is not intention but action which
creates the consequences. I pounds a little harder when I see the
awful truth that those who have everything will only know how to
appreciate when they lose it, if they ever do.

My fists clench as I contain the urge to knock the teeth out of the
mouths of those who waste their abilities; this includes myself; whomever
find solace ever in repeatition and habit over the brilliance of the
day.

My words I now hone, a sharper and sharper blade with which to cut
through the ambiguity and miscommunication in everday life, to attempt
to be heard amid the din of those with so much to say and so little to
impart.

My observation I focus, for it is in the details where the truth lies.
I can only hope that both my irises may shine a little brighter with
the rightous cause of being. For when it is darkest I cannot help but
see a way out, my others be so inspired as well.

My spirit I hold sacred, for it is the one and only thing that cannot
be taken away. Even through the abuse inflicted comes from both
inside and out, I cannot die, merely swept away, buried under the best
and worst intentions of those who I am fortunate enough to hold dear;
seen not as I am but how others wish, need me to be.

It is for all these reasons that I must carry on, for while others
suffer, I cannot myself be free, for to stand by is to accept. Be
careful, as far as my reach extends, I just might succeed.

Moving right along

We all wish we could write an opus. That definitive work which will
not only let the world know the particular strand of genius we posses,
but would carry the gravity to let those we hurt know we have
repented, those we love how deeply we do, and recognize the mark that
those important to us have made on our lives. All this in a moving
and perfectly executed piece that will provide Hollywood type closure
and the peace of mind that all wanders seek.

And while our work continues we still suffer. Dragged into the
quagmire that is the human condition, our words fall limply from our
lips, impotently from pen to page, crippled action representing a mere
shadow of what we wish it to. These are the words and deeds which
hinder our lives, which prevent the entirety of our lives from being
that opus which we so desperately seek to create.

But this isn't a blog of pain and suffering, though to a point that is
what life is about. I would prefer to use this anguish, these
lifeless moments in a cold uncaring universe to rally our inner
mettle. For it is only from confusion and pain that inspiration and
clarity spring from. When we think that we cannot, or don't want to
continue, that is exactly the time to dive directly into the heart of
our suffering and clash with our inner demons. For in hiding in
cowardice, be it through drink or drug, or emotional detachment, that
is the stuff of beret wearing high school kids jacked on caffeine
seeking meaning from the new music they have heard that
oh-so-perfectly captures...

You've heard it. Maybe from a bad episode of Degrassi. Perhaps from
an after school special. Notice however that while Hollywood does
drama like it does the happy ending. Both treatments are saccharine,
yet our belief seems based in what we think and are told by media
should be, rather than what we see, know and desire in the remainder
of our lives.

So where is this headed? This is where I diverge from what I have
known, so give me a spot of latitude. I say, embrace your demons.
Thank those that have done you wrong. I don't mean send flowers and a
card, but settle the score. If you've gotten your heart broken, even
over and over, tell them and thank them; by carrying on despite that
pain you walk about a stronger more stable person. Addiction issues?
Congrats, depending on the severity of you are now able to walk this
earth knowing that you understand. Understand what the depths of
emotion are. Understand how amazing a single clean day can be.
Wanting to propose a toast to your self-control, when you begin to
control the demons that have previously run your life.

There's an old saying that we cannot know the light without the
darkness. I believe that to the core of my being, so to all of you
that have made it through unscathed I say, "Sorry". For no one makes
it out without a couple scars, and if you think you have then I would
applaud your powers of rationalization and perception: to wit, you
just haven't been paying attention. I don't mean to propose heading
out to the nearest park dweller named Falco and scoring some junk, but
to clean the skeletons out of the closet you first have to see that
they are there.

So until you become enlightened, try to put an end to unfinished
business. There are two responses to a given situation, fight (deal
with it) or flight (stuff it deep in the psyche), and while the former
will leave you with some marks, the latter will most likely lead to a
crippling mid-life crisis, more than one phobia and a boat load of
therapy bills.

Stop running people, 'cause after awhile it becomes a habit, and the
only thing worse than running is not knowing what you are running
from.

Let them have it 'cause they need it

Drama. Without question, this one word has come to mean so much in the social realm, from that thing that so terribly affects young ladiy's and theatre majors to the poorly scripted action dramas that have saturated TV in the past few years. My interest here is no so much how it comes up or ways around it, but I am extremely interested at the function it serves, in both society and our psyche.

I'm beginning to think that drama is a necessarry part of the human condition. As I woke up this morning, I notived that something was differnt. Sure, part of it was the half pound of phlegm (oh the joys of being a quitter), but there was something else, something missing. As my eyes managed to focus, I looked around the room and saw the same sights I always did, wanted the same things (H20 & a shower)...

Actually, I didn't. There was something I woke up missing, and with it the normal panic left also. I'm not sure what this is a function of, though I know what it is about, and to be honest I was not sorry to see it go. What was it I let go you ask? A habit, a habit that has been going on for the last year and a half: a habit that has kept me awake at night and woke me up early in the morning, a thought process that has ruled my actions and dictated my desires, morbitity disguised as healthy thoughts. I'll leave out the details, but those who know me well, if you can't hammer down what it is then give me call, we need to seriously catch up.

So coming from this new, more spacious place I couln't help but think what function this particular habit served in my life (and by comparison the lives of others), and I unearthed some bitter truth. That being the fact that in our little psychoses we manage to lock up all of our insecurities and fears (we all have them, yes, even me). It is in these feelings that we hide our own impending senility, all the things that we are not yet claim to be. Thus my little habit was allowing me to ignore some lesser problems with my self and my place in it in order to carry on. Kinda like drinking some unicorn blood, survival over health: gets the job done, but not well.

Only then was I able to think of the drama of others. The next time someone spreads gossip, slanders another; the next time you think poorly of another person or pick up a 'dramtic habit' try to really take look at the man behind the curtain. Chances are that the problem lies with no one but yourself.

The necessity of drama then, comes with the quest for meaning. We all need something to make our day worth while, and what is worth while becomes no small bit more obscure by feelings and desires. This obscurity is where drama arises from. If we cannot find a satisfying reason to drive our day, then we will make one up. Being a less than clever race and due to the way our brain operates the next natural assumption is to blame the outside world. Typically the most convienent and available outlet. For example, during my illustrious college career I have been linked with many different people in various capacities, and when it comes to the ladies well, we had our interactions. The last couple years however, noticed something strange: I would be linked to people that I never even really conversated with, let alone thought about turning my sights on. Is this a complement? Not the way people bandied it about. So what was actually goin on? Scorned and embittered people spreading rumor because of some grudge that other folks had; perhaps it was a lack of other material to talk about perhaps I had a secret admirer, perhaps I had it coming. Whatever the case, those keeping the rumor mill a-spin got what they wanted, and so long as someone comes out feeling better about themselves I guess there wasn't much harm.

Sounds like a silly conclusion? No way! Let people have their drama. I say enjoy it. If you would really like to create self-fullfilling profesies in which you triumph over other people because you think you have what they don't, fine. If you would like to ignore the fact that the world contains in it an infinitity of possibilities in order to harp upon one thing that someone has done that doesn't go swimmingly with your own ontology, fine. If you would like to let what you say be the deciding factor in your life contra what you do and create, fine. If you would like to believe that you are better than your peers, fine. If you want your immediate addition to the world to be a negative one in which someone must lose in order for you to gain, I say fine.

But I'm out. I'm done with thinking about other people in my decisions. This is not to say I'm being selfish for a little while, but I see now that I have made some poor choices insofar as the people whose welfare I put above mine. For that is where my drama sprang from, so I gotta be the one to get off the coaster. Though I will say this: if you have a problem with other people, other genders, ethnicities, whatever, you've got more serious issues that you need to work out with yourself first.

But enough soapboxing. I think that drama as we defined it is an essential product of our current culture, something to help fill the void between what media tells us and how our lives are really run. It is a crude form of short term therapy, and besides it's what the cool kids do these days. It is a cheap conversation starter among other things, and the perfect way to feel superior even on a very bad day. You know who you are, so keep it up: and don't blame me when you wake up lonely at 50: you're doing good now, and that's all that matters.

Ahhhhh...

Hello, my notorious philistine friends from around the world and the web! For all those that didn't look elsewhere for their blogging fix, I applaud you. For those that left, well I can only hope you come crawling back soon.

Enough about the past, though. I currently have brought myself to be concerned by things that we know to be true, and the things that we learn to know. I don't speak here of book knowledge, bravo to all the folks who love book learning. The type of learning I've been thinking about is more of a trait learning, especially learning those traits that we disbelieve.

I'll use an example to illustrate my point. The other day I was sitting with a firend of mine for tequila and a bite to eat (One without the other is just a shame, a shell and exemplar of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts) and we were discussing realtionships, especially attraction. I was asked a question about who we find attractive and what we can do about it, an without hesitating my response was "We choose who we are attractive to, end of story." This was actually pretty surprising to the both of us, especially my companion, who I'm sure was expecting quite a bit more; honestly I was expecting a bit more.

But that's what it was that's how it is and it summs it up perfectly. I haven't always thought that way. In fact, to be honest I railed against that idea for a very, very long time, but in the end I came around. Not because I wanted to mind you, but because I was forced to, in order to get on with life.

I'm assuming here that our natural inclinations are the primary factors in contentment. The things we did as children, the loves that we've found along the way be they australian rules football, long walks on the beach or a flaming marshmallow: those activities that leave us inspired immediately. Even some of the things we have learned to love, like beer, asparagus and public speaking, I would argue are natural inclinations that have been recently opened to us. I would also call this individual complete, for the things that they aren't engaged in just don't matter for awhile.

We are trained however, to hold more important things dear. I've called this domestication, and here I will call it just plain wrong. Wrong because I will fight anyone who says that an evening in good company is not more valuable than overtime at the office. Wrong because no one can tell me that seeing the foliage isn't superior to watching tv, wrong because in the end we are taught to think that there is fault in the world around us.

Who's idea was it to teach unhappiness? Where in the book of life do we get off being suspicious, or having to scrupulously examine every detail of our decisions until they are nothing more than a cost/benefit analysis? Why did I have to learn to look for features of people, rather than the time I have around them (I say this on behalf of all those who agree with me)?

These are the items I worry about, the beliefs we disbelieve. All of the items what we just can't put down, like worry, like oversimplification, like overcomplexity. All of the instances in which we are taught not to believe our own instincts, to learn the "right" way to think about things. Forget that I say. There are some very basic and known ways in which our minds go wrong, and all people should know and understand what they are. Other than that, our decisions should be guided only by our own notions of what is correct and not.

Rant over. Just be aware of what you are forced to hold by the beliefs that you have. For example, in my little tequila answer I realized that by not trusting my instincts in the matters of love and affection, even in something as trivial as a quick answer, I realized i was also forced to believe other things about myself and the world that I don't really espose either.

Which leaves just a quote: "When it somes to actions and others there is nothing more than meets the eye, but when it comes to ourselves it is everything but that."