Friday, September 30, 2005

Meat and two veg

I actually wanted to make a post response to a recent comment about the occasional reference to my family jewels, ie. my penis. I'm surprised the references have been only occasional. Personally, I find the penis, the male obsession with it, and even the sound of the word itself, to be a nigh-bottomless source of entertainment. Now, I don't giggle like a school boy whenever someone says "penis." But come on... remember the whole Bobbit fiasco? Remember the faces and the hesitation on the anchor people's faces when they had to say "And she cut off his... penis." They were squirming in their seats, wishing they've been sent to cover a hurricane or something like that. (Brief side note: I'm not trying to mock the hurricane, but how high on a network's shit-list do you have to be when they go: "Hey Frank. There's a hurricane coming, and, uh, we want you to take a cameraman and a van and go to it and get some footage. No, not that van. Take the little one." But more to the point, how badly do these people want that anchor position?!? Just say no!)

But back to the penis (which I'm sure is as we write/read getting me a 'not suitable for minors' rating for my blog), it just makes me laugh. Guys are always concerned about how big it is, and will the girls like this, and yadda yadda. To give you an idea of the depth of self-involvement with our penises, I promise you that every man, at least once in his life, has measured it. If he says he hasn't, he's lying. We've measured it as sure as we were born. Most of us start at the top of our spine; it's important to include what we men call "inner shaft."

But the variety of names cracks me up too. One need only watch Austin Powers (and the sequel) to see what an odd variety of names we have for it. Johnson, weiner, frank, dick, dolphin, banana, woody, little buddy (don't ever call it little buddy unless you don't want to be intimate with us that night).... the list goes on. Not only that, but all the things we've created to imply that we're hung like rhinosceroses. Big feet, big nose, big hands. Indian people are, polish people are, german people are. We'll talk about having to wrap it around our waste just so it doesn't drag. Ladies. Honestly, if it were that long, would you want to have anything to do with it? Besides call Guinness, I mean. I imagine that would just hurt. But still, you get guys talking about how they were pole-vaulters in high school, and during this one competition their pole broke, but they still won 'cause they were able to catch themselves on their penis and properly vault over. (true story)

Now, I will say that not all guys talke about penises as much as I do. For some embarassment keeps them in check; for some its homophobia. Me? I dont' embarass easily at all, and I'm certainly not homophobic. But I do like to laugh. And I swear those things are funny. Fit for public? meh. Fit for kids? Probably not. Fit for this guy? Oh yeah. Because if you can laugh and talk about a penis, you can laugh and talk about anything.

The wee hours

I got to sleep last night, which was good. But I woke up a little before seven (nature was calling. It was saying "chris... chris... Hey CHRIS! Go to the damn bathroom!). And in that groggy, pre-awake state, I had a thought that I, personally, thought was funny enough that I made sure to grab my cell phone and text it to myself so that I'd remember it and be able to post it here today. Now, be aware that I have no clue as to where this thought came from. It just popped in there. I'm not sure if it was the result of some sort of dream, or what, but it made me laugh, so hopefully you all will too.

I visualized a guy in his late 30s getting out of bed because there's a banging/rustling side going on outside his house. He puts on his robe and his slippers and grabs his baseball bat (guys always seem to have a baseball bat in these sorts of situations) and flashlight, and proceeds to go outside. Once out there, he determines that the banging was one of his abnormally large trashcans falling over, and the rustling is also coming from that direction. "Damn raccoons" he figures as he slowly starts to walk over, uncertain as to how many of them their might be with the rabies and everything. As he gets closer and is shining the light around the cans (which are about people-height), another can falls over and his flashlight catches the face of a teletubby in its beam. It's the green one. The two fix their gaze on each other for a moment, before the guy snaps back to reality and starts running at it with the bat screaming "You goddamn teletubbies better stay the hell out of my trash!" And the teletubby takes off into the night, answering back with "Again again! Again again!"

Now, it was more or less their point of contact that I visualized at 6:49AM (according to my phone), but I thought something of a back story and a resolution would help the overall feel of the story. In trying to analyze it, I'm sure some part of it is inspired by that one cell phone company commercial where the guy had to go nocturnal so he could use his minutes, and he gets caught in a car's headlights and freezes and is later seen rummaging through trash. That's very much the flavor of this teletubby vision: comical in its absurdity. Hopefully you laughed, but hopefully more-so you didn't call the nearby mental hospital and have them send over some of their men in the white coats. They don't stay out of my trash either.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

I'm ba-ack!

I told you I would be. No, my bro wasn't using the computer that entire time; I got distracted by a little something I like to call "lilo and stitch." No, not the movie. I'm referring to the mutated rats that try to use my family to feed their own. It's a constant battle between us, but we have the advantage. We make fire! ... okay, I'm just bullshitting. It was the movie. I like the movie, and I take a personal bit of enjoyment that it was based off an idea by Chris Sanders. Chris Sanders. Chris. He must be a cool person, because he thought of lilo and stitch, and his name's chris. I bet his friends call him C-ders.

Tonight I finished learning the fourth section of my tai-chi studies. There's six sections total, so I'm 2/3 of the way there. That's just the beginning, of course. Mastery involves much more than basic memorization; it requires practice and refinement and outside criticism and application and whatnot. Plus, I believe there are different forms for different weapons that may be in use. I'm positive that there's a seperate "sword" form. There's probably one for other weapons as well. I'd like to learn something for a short staff, because then I could just walk with a cane, and always be armed-and-dangerous. Right now I'm just dangerous. To myself. You could say that I'm a hazzard to myself, but then Pink would probably sue you. Don't let her get her! I have to say though, that some moves in the art are like "yeah, yeah, yeah..." But there are others that're really cool! Towards the end of the fourth section, there's a move-cluster called "maid working the ticket booth" (or something similar) and it involves a strike to one corner, pivoting, strike to another corner, etc, and it's just a strike to four different directions in what could seem like one very fluid motion (If you were watching someone else do it. If you're watching me, there's some shakiness and uncertainty involved, and it probably looks like I'm having a seizure.) But yeah, cool stuff.

I think that's it for now. I'm going to attempt to get a normal night's sleep, but we'll see. If you catch another post from me before 9AM, it means that sleep wasn't an option again tonight. But I'm tired, and -shit- I had the ol' Mew at pizza hut tonight. I didn't intend to; I met the fam there and they'd already ordered it for me, and I didn't want it to go to waste. Of course, I probably didn't need to order the refill... I digress. I'm off to dreamland, hopefully. If not, then I'll probably get lost on the way there and end up in toss-n-turnsville. Toodles!

No title

I spent a lot of time on my Halloween costume the last few days. I’ve gotten all of the things that I think I’ll need (except maybe another wig; I’m not sure if the one I got will work or not.) And I spent today working on the armor/harness thingy. (Not harness as in a horse… it’s like a belt coupled with suspenders. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s designed more as a harness to hold the sword’s sheath than anything else, but my sword’s sheath will be magnetic! (If I can make it work.)) I also painted the PVC pipe silver that I’m going to use as a gauntlet (a sort of armor for the fore-arm for those of you not in the know). I want to start on my sword, but I talked to my dad about it before buying the materials, and I think he wants to help me with it, so I’m going to try to wait. He’s been stressed out at work lately, and some easy-going sword making might help take his mind off of it. If it gets closer to Halloween and the sword isn’t getting done, then I’ll just do it on my own. My bro has humbly requested to use the computer now, so I’ll allow him. But I’ll be back! That’s a promise! Or a threat… take it how you will.

Insomnia Cont.

For the record, I was wrong. My rambling conversation wasn't indicative of the fact that I was ready for bed, because I, in fact, was not ready for bed. I tossed and turned some more until around4:15ish(?), woke up again around 6ish, drifted back off from maybe 6:30-9, then finally weaved in and out of sleep until 11, when I decided I'd be better off getting up so that maybe tonight I'd be able to get some sleep. The short version? I'm cranky and my eyes hurt. Yay.

Insomnia

So, it's 2:30 in the Ante Merdiem, and I'm still awake. I just got done laying in bed for 40 minutes or so and am still wide awake. I've been having a hard time sleeping the past few nights, which is a very foreign experience for me. Normally, I just roll up to bed, pick up my daydream adventures where I left off the night before, and I'm asleep within minutes. Not so, recently, and I'm not sure how to cope. So I'm trying the ol' "eat a bowl of cinnamon toast crunch and write on your blog" solution. I can't imagine what it's like for people who deal with this on a regular basis. I've always considered myself much like Garfield: able to sleep anytime, anywhere, in (virtually) any position. So this experience has me... put off, to say the least. And no, before any of you ask, it shouldn't be a caffeine imposed problem. I suppose that's possible, but the last soda I had tonight was only pepsi (we don't have dew at work) and that was around 9-9:30. Five hours should be enough for that to burn out of my system, right? Then again, maybe not. The only real change in my habits the past week or so has been that I'd been drinking soda again, so maybe that is what's keeping me up late. Odd that I don't recall it doing so before, though. Hell, I used to put down probably 4 or 5 liters a day in my pizzaria days, and I still slept like a baby. lol... maybe I'm just getting old.

It's funny how getting old bothers some (probably most) people. People try all these different ways to look younger; surgery, hair treatments, um... other, uh, ways (look, there has to be more than two; I just can't think of any. I know I'm awake, but it is late, alright?). But why? Why do we do this? Why are we so afraid of looking more aged? Is it a subconsious association of age with death, and in attempting to defy our age, we're consequently defying our death? Or is a social thing? Do we want to stay youthful so that others continue to find us attractive or whatever? I realized a few months ago that my hair was starting to thin. (A busser at work pointed it out to me... a darling boy, really. prick.) My mom has thin hair, though, so it wasn't really all that surprising to me. I mean, I'm not balding by any sense of the word. But let's just say I didn't dye my hair a darker color more than once 'cause that one time it kinda went "HEY! Look at me! I'm thin! You can almost see the scalp right through me!" And I've thought about getting different shampoos, or trying rogain or whatever. But I shrugged it off. Well, in all honestly, I do buy the "thickening" shampoo... but com'on. It's no more expensive than any other shampoo, so I'm not going out of my way for it. I'm just aware of the situation and I'm addressing it; not calling it a problem and panicking about it. But yeah, so, more or less, shrugged it off. Who cares if it's starting to thin? Who cares if I go bald one day? (I don't think I will... I think it'll just get really thin, but who knows?) I'm not going to worry about signs of aging. Aging is a natural process, and it's nothing to be embarassed about.

I really have no clue how I got on that subject. When I'm going to sleep, I know that sleep itself is close by when my mind starts darting to random subjects. Like mini-dreams, but with more of a basis in reality. Maybe that whole "aging" track is my mind darting... I'm going to try sleeping again. I'll let you know if it doesn't work.

Ah, philosophy

http://www.theonion.com/content/node/40984

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Little of this, little of that

Firstly, I just want to say I saw the prettiest eye the other day. Don't ask why it was just one. It wasn't in a jar or anything wierd like that. It was just a picture, and it was pretty, and I wanted to say so. So there.

Secondly (this might be lastly too; we'll play that by ear.), I was talking about myself today (conceited, right? I was asked, so BACK OFF!), and it made me realize that I've changed a lot in the past year or so. Not so much who I am, but my plan for the future; how I see the world and my role in it has changed a lot. And I suppose a year is a long time for changes to take place, and these all have certainly been relatively evolving changes, but still... So, here's a list of how Chris 2005 is different from Chris 2004.

1) Cars. A year ago, my dream house included a two-car garage compete with a service lift so I could tinker and tune my cars till my fingers fell off. I figured that I'd have a sporty daily driver (maybe a 350Z? A new Corvette Z06? Something like that) and that I'd also have Seven that I could take out to the track or the backroads on suitably gorgeous days. Now? Now I'm trying to get rid of my relatively-sporty car in exchange for a simple, weak, cheap car that'll be reliable and practical. This isn't a change in who I am. I still love cars, and in an ideal world, I'd still have the two-car garage/lift/multiple sports cars/etc. However, the way I look at this dream has changed a great deal. Now, I think it's selfish, and I also think that it would entail a lot of unnecessary financial stress. I'd rather go simple and low-maintenance and not have to worry about making as much money.

2) Dream house. My notion of a dream house has changed a bit too. It used to be patterned after a hobbit-hole (only bigger). Not that I was locked in a fantasy world, but I liked the idea of the house being built into a hill, using geothermal energy for heat, being surrounded by green plains, having circular hallways and doors rather than the typical right-angle ones. It'd have it's own library, and a pool table, and a piano, and a bar, and things along those lines for entertaining guests. But that's changed again, for much of the same reasons as with the cars. Such a house would be so expensive that I'd stress myself out to afford it, not to mention the plot of land that I'd ideally be situated on would cost a fortune in land taxes. Now I just want a simple house, big enough to live in, maybe have a family in, but nothing extravagant. Just something within a half hour's drive to a state park or something similarly suitable to the nature lover in me.

3) Girls. I guess I have to say "women" by this age, huh? This was a 180 and a half. (So a 270?) But it happened over a little longer period of time too; somewhere around a year and a half. About that long ago, I was desperate for a girlfriend, and going about finding one in just about every wrong way possible (Shy of stalking anyway; that stopped after April. Hi Ape!) A little bit of time and a bit of mentoring from my ex-player bank manager, and I was in the much better mindset of liking my own life with the end result of being aloof around the ladies. Aloofness tends to drive them crazy, so he said. So I did that for a while. Then I decided I really didn’t want a girlfriend, but just to casually date and hang out. And I kinda/sorta did that for a bit, but I wound up with a girlfriend, despite my best efforts not to. That didn't last long. And now? Now I’m not even looking for anything from anyone, because I won’t date someone who won’t walk the path I want to walk, and I don’t want to date anyone who’s willing to walk the path I want to walk. I would need someone who would want to walk that path on their own, so that there’s no sacrificing involved in their being with me, or vice-versa. And to be honest with you, I’m not certain that I’ll ever meet someone like that. I’m staying open minded, but I’m not actively hunting for anything anymore. … I guess I’m just waiting to see what the future holds. I like surprises. They make life interesting.

4) My job. I was hellbent on being a teacher for pretty much as long as I can remember; originally it was for high school, later it was as a professor. Now? Now I think there’re ways I can teach and help others that are outside of a traditional academic system. I’m not sure what yet, but I’m keeping my options and my eyes open.

I suppose those four are the main ones; maybe the only ones. But that’s a lot. That’s four of the major things that people deal with in their lives. And the changes have been made mostly in the effort to remain truer to myself. Yeah, I enjoy cars and driving fast, but having a fancy exotic car is mostly for the admiration and praise and interest it would gain me. The change in my outlook on women is basically because I don’t want to sacrifice anything of who I am for anyone else, nor do I want anyone to do so for me. Love shouldn’t have to be a sacrifice. Relationships shouldn’t have to be made to work. But in so many instances, that’s the way things are. I don’t want that for myself. I don’t really want that for anyone, but I can’t control anyone else.

A-HA! I thought of the other thing I wanted to write about! Religion! I read a quote the other day (yesterday?) that said “Religion should be our steering wheel, not our spare tire.” Now, I understand the point this is trying to make. Religion shouldn’t be something that we forget about until we need it; it should be our directional motivator. But my problem (you knew there was going to be a problem, didn’t you?) is precisely that religion shouldn’t be our directional motivator. You can’t blindly go where religion will take you. You can’t let it steer your life, because then you’re only living off of what someone else tells you, and that’s not what religion should be. If anything, religion should be some sort of road map. Here’s you. Here’s where you want to go. Here’s where you could end up if you take these certain roads. But different maps are going to show different streets and avenues and alleys and whatnot, creating multiple different ways to get to the same place, and none of them are any better than the other.

I don’t really want to rant too much about religion because I have so frequently on here, but I can’t help it. People take it so dogmatically and faithlessly that they completely miss every intention behind it. I loved the movie Dogma (as I do most religious-based movies) because it promoted the concept that it wasn’t what you had faith in, so long as you had faith. That’s lost on so many people today (my parents included). It doesn’t matter that I have a better understanding of and relationship with God than, I’d wager, 95% of the people that go to my church. (I may be arrogant, but I’m basing that off of human ignorance in general.) The fact that I don’t go to church, to them, means that I’ve somehow fallen off the path. I don’t think they see me as “lost,” per se, but I’m definitely not as “found” as they’d like me to be either. (This is mostly my mom. If I had to place him, I’d say my dad’s about halfway between my mom and me. Still quasi-dogmatically catholic, but he at least understands where I’m coming from. If mom’s coke/catholic, and dad’s diet coke/catholic, then I’m like mountain dew or something. Mmmmm… mountain dew…)

On another subject, I’ve decided that mountain dew is like my beer. (Did I talk about this already?) I would much rather get a caffeine rush from dew than a blurry buzz from beer. Now, I like a pint o’ Guinness as much as the next person, but overall I think dew tastes 10x better. I’m like a kid. If one of my coworkers comes in and I’m kind of bouncing off the walls, he knows to ask “did you have mountain dew?” And I just kind of giggle, like stoners do when you ask if they’re high. Tee-hee! And there’s always someone in the crowd that warns me about the chemicals in it. What is it, yellow 5 or something? “It’ll kill your sperm count!” Ya know what? You have to drink, like, a literal truckload of that stuff before you’re in any real danger. (Not like I drink it too much anymore; soda doesn’t mesh well with my whole “being healthy” efforts.) And if I’m wrong about that, and I do suffer from the side-effects? Well, then that’s just the price I pay for dewy deliciousness. And on that note, I bid you all a-dew. (Wow… even I’m embarrassed by that pun. Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen, okay? Nobody tell mom…)

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Spam

Feedshot - New Blog Submission ServiceI received a mail from Rob W. - creator of Feedshot who tipped me off to his new service, FeedShot .I have a internet opportunities site/blog. It pretty much covers internet opportunities related stuff.

This is the comment from my last post. I quote, again, "It pretty much covers internet opportunities related stuff." Huh? What the hell does that include? Penis mightiers, maybe?

Daydreaming

"Are we in time to get a quick bite to eat?"

"No sir."

"But it's five of ten."

"Yes sir, but we close a bit early because we didn't want any last-minute customers."

"But your sign says your open until ten!"

"Gotcha!"

"What?"

"I was just kidding sir. Go ahead and take a seat."

"Kidding? I want to talk to your manager!"

"Now sir, there's not need to get upset just because I caught you pretending to be nice."


And that's how the conversation went in my head. In reality, it went as follows:

"Are we too late to grab a quick bite?"

"No sir. Go ahead and pick out a table and I'll grab you some menus."


I try not to get too upset about the last minute customer. I mean, they just want some food, and I rather doubt that they made a conscious decision to come in so late. Like they were just waiting in the parking lot for the last hour just to screw with us, right? But the other part of me is thinking "Waffle House is 7 blocks away and they're open 24 hours. Go eat there." But that's just me being bitter.

What a difference tonight was from last night! Last night, if you recall, I had two tables, and made 17 bucks. Tonight, I had 11 tables (including a non-reservation 10-top who all wanted seperate checks) and I walked with just over a hundred. Monday and Tuesday, like night and day. Go figure. But seriously folks; if you're planning to go out to eat with more than 6 people, call the restaurant and see if they take reservations. If they don't, at least give them a heads-up. I promise that it'll be appreciated. Yes, a restaurant is equipped to serve that many people, but that doesn't mean they're prepared to. Think of it this way: You're going to have a couple close friends over for a wine and cheese night, but one of those friends brings another four people and they all want real food. Could you accomodate them? Probably. Easily? Probably not. It's like using the blinker in your car; let people know what you're plannign to do before you do it, okay? ... Of course, most of you don't do that either, so I guess I lose this round. But I'll be back!

Monday, September 26, 2005

Winter

And by winter, I mean "non-summer" because that's the season we came crashing into at work tonight. Wow, was it slow. I had two tables in 4 hours. Two. Count them: 1, 4, 9, 7, 2. (or, you know: 1, 2.) On the flip side, I got paid $17 to do bloody nothing. Oh, not true. I ate part of a brownie. A big part. It's funny how forgetful people are. Well, how forgetful I am, anyway. Every year, I get surprised when business suddenly and exponentially increases around may, and every year I'm stunned into silence when it abrubtly crashes to a halt nearing october.

So, yeah, not much new to report today. I want to start working on a halloween costume, but I need to decide first if I'm going to be Cloud Strife or Eric Draven. I'm leaning towards Cloud, but just 'cause I want to design a build a sword "the size of a civic." Of course, his spiky hair will be much more difficult to pull off then droopy curly hair. We'll see; I'm pretty sure it'll be Cloud, 'cause I have the idea of attaching magnets to the sword (made of wood) and sewing magnets into the back of the costume so the sword will "sheath" easier. I need to start getting the supplies though.

The turtle

Back to taoist pearls of wisdom!

Chuang Tzu with his bamboo pole was fishing in Pu river. The Prince of Chu sent two vice-chancellors with a formal cocument: "We hereby appoint you to prime minister."

Chuang Tzu held his bamboo pole. Still watching Pu river, he said "I am told there is a sacred tortoise, offered and canonized three thousand years ago, venerated by the prince, wrapped in silk, in a precisou shrine on an altar in the temple. What do you think? Would the turtle rather live that life, or to have remained by the river dragging its tail in the mud?"

"It would have preferred to stay by the river."

Chuang Tzu replied "I, too, prefer the river and the mud. Go home."

*******

I'd just like to say that it's hard to hold open a paperback book and type at the same time. Also, today's post is a blend of two versions of this story I've read. The version that I used for the first half has Chuang Tzu almost being angry by the offer by the end of the tale, and that doesn't seem like it's accurate. So I went from memory to fill out the second half with a more sage-like version.

Sunday, September 25, 2005

Long Weekend

Not counting the last 2-ish hours, I've either been working or sleeping since 4PM Friday. (FYI: most of it wasn’t sleep.) Good LORD what a long weekend. I mean, it’s profitable and all, but I’m getting too old for this. Not in the “I’m too mature sense,” but in the “damn I’m tired ‘cause I don’t have the energy I used to” sense. Unfortunately, I have so much mountain dew in my system, that sleep is not quite an option just yet. Mmmm…. Mountain dew… it’s like God pissed in a cup and gave it to us to drink. (Because, despite the fact that it’s divine, I must admit a certain piss-like quality to it.) BUT! it keeps me going on those 12-hour days when I have nothing left to give. Unfortunately, it also keeps me going well PAST those 12-hour days when all I want to do is sleep. It is both my strength and my bane. And for those of you who want a real kick, try some grenadine in your mountain dew; it’s to die for.

But, on top of being so wired that I’m hitting the keyboard using only the power of my mind, I also just need down time. Have any of you ever tried to go to bed for the night 5 minutes after you walk in the door from work? It’s not easy to do. We need, well, at least I need, time to unwind and relax, and I didn’t have that this past weekend. So I guess I’m making up for it now. Yippee. Unwinding is so great. Lol… oh, lord, but I enjoy making myself laugh.

Speaking of, I have successfully made myself laugh at the same self-created bit for the past four days or so. This surprises me, because in MOST cases, it’s the punchline of the joke, the part that makes you go “huh?” that instigates the laughter, which is why jokes become less funny the more you hear them; they aren’t surprising anymore. But, well, here’s the wind-up (it’s not a joke; just an action.) The sun-visor in my car rattles a bit, and it drives me crazy. However, I can’t really adjust it in small degrees. It’s either up, 45-ish degrees down, or all the way down. When it’s down at all, it doesn’t rattle, but when it’s down all the way, I can’t see quite as well. So every once in a while I get sick of the rattle and I move it to the 45degree spot, which puts the edge of the visor about 5 inches from my forehead. And EVERY time, I visualize myself having to slam on the brakes for something, smacking my forehead into the visor and going “aaaaah...” in a very Chris Farley-esque sort of way, and I crack myself up. It’s the funniest damn thing in the world to me, and I get myself with it every time. Most of you out there are probably going “Uh, yeah. Sure Chris. Whatever.” Well it’s funny to ME dammit! But then, I laughed at Blankman. (Not true; never saw the movie, but I heard it was pretty god-awful.)

The spider and the butterfly

This isn't a Taoist post; it's a post that I'm hoping will better convey the feeling I was struggling with during the last post. (Note the past tense. I don't struggle with things for long; it's much easier to be able to let them go.) It comes from the story of twin brothers with a very different view on the world.

One day, while the brothers were young teenagers, they were walking through an open field with the occasional tree/shrubbery/fallen branch/etc. One of the fallen branches had a spider’s web, and in the web a beautiful butterfly was caught. Upon closer inspection, one of the brothers also noticed that the spider was gradually making its way across the web and closing in on the butterfly. The young man gingerly reached for the butterfly, and began a slow, possibly futile, effort of freeing it from the web. After his brother noticed what he was doing, he walked over behind him and crushed the spider in his bare hand. The first brother looked at him incredulously. “Why did you do that?”

“You wanted to save the butterfly, didn’t you? That was the easiest way to do it.”

“But I didn’t want to kill the spider! I wanted to save both!”

“You couldn’t possibly save both. If you kept freeing the butterfly, the spider would eventually die of starvation. I killed the spider to save the butterfly.”

“Don’t you understand?!?! I wanted to save both of them!!”

And with that, they fought as brothers often do, until an adult came along and broke up the fight. But they both carried those beliefs with them well into adulthood. The one saw life as disposable, something to be thrown away to spare something else. The other saw life as sacred, and believed that no matter how grim a situation might have been, there was always a way out without death.

I try to save the spider and the butterfly. Sometimes, a lot of times, it seems like this isn’t possible. But I believe it’s because I haven’t tried hard enough, or looked deep enough, or thought long enough. There has to be a solution that saves everyone. But in the case of my job and my former manager, I couldn’t find it. I killed the spider to save the butterfly. And though I’m not distraught over that, I do think I’m a little disappointed in myself.

Friday, September 23, 2005

Remorse

Not much new to report today. I’m working pretty much all weekend to cover for the new vacancy up there. Yay! (For the vacancy that is; not for working all weekend, although the cash’ll be nice.) I can’t help but feel a little bad, though. (I actually had a dream last night where she’d been struggling to find work and wound getting one day a week at some imaginary ramshackle little place across the street from where I work, and every day she saw us and we saw her and she looked really pitiful and was struggling to make ends meet.) When I was younger, and I managed a McDonalds, I took a certain pride in having fired three people in three months (before I, myself, was fired for an incident involving a grease bucket and multiple state authorities.) But that was a long time ago; I don’t think I could ever be in a manager’s position now, because I would care too much about someone’s personal life. I don’t understand how anyone could callously fire a single-mom with three kids. Well… that’s not entirely accurate, I suppose. There’re only so many chances that can be given, and it isn’t a business owner’s responsibility to continue to employ someone because of their life situation when they keep screwing up. I didn’t like her, and I didn’t trust her, but part of me still feels a little sad. But I suppose there is a difference between having emotions and being ruled by them. My former boss truly was bad for the store, in terms of how she handled the work there as well as the employees, and she had to go. It doesn’t make the situation a friendly one. But we know the things that we should do, even if they aren’t the easiest choices to make. She had to have known that some of the things she was doing weren’t kosher, as much as I know that she had to be let go.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Victory!

This doesn't have to (and consequently isn't going to) be a long posting. (Really, the title says it all.) My recently ex-boss was sited for DUI two days after the owner talked to her about her drinking (more or less a problem). Rumors abound, including that she hit a parked car as she was leaving the bar down the street, and that she showed traces of cocaine in her system. (The parked car I see as slightly more believeable... I'm not sure what kind of sobriety test they would've hit her with that would show cocaine.) But she's gone, finito, and other words meaning "not there!" So that's good. I should be a general or something.

The Useless Tree

Hui Tzu said to Chuang:
I have a big tree,
The kind they call a "stinktree."
The trunk is so distorted,
so full of knots,
no one can get a straight plank
out of it. The branches are so crooked
you cannot cut them up
in any way that makes sense.

There it stands beside the road.
No carpenter will even look at it.

Such is your teaching-
big and useless.

Chuang Tzu replied:
Have you ever watched the wildcat
crouching, watching his prey-
this way it leaps, and that way,
high and low, and at last
lands in the trap.

But have you seen the yak?
Great as a thundercloud
he stands in his might.
Big? Sure.
He can't catch mice!

So for your big tree. No use?
Then plant it in the wasteland
in emptiness.
Walk idly around,
rest under its shadow;
no axe or bill prepares its end.
No one will ever cut it down.

Useless? You should worry!



I think the first two parables I posted were rather self-explanatory, but I'll go into this one a bit. The reason the wildcat lands in a trap is because it is so focused on catching its prey. It has been designed for only one thing, and trap avoidance isn't it. A Yak, on the other hand, is too powerful to trap, but for all its strength and might, it cannot catch a mouse. Chuang Tzu points out that Hui Tzu's tree is useless because Hui seeks to make it into something other than what it is. If Hui would simply appreciate the tree as it is, as a thing of beauty, a place of rest, a giver of shade, then he certainly wouldn't think it useless. Both the tree and Taoism are useless to Hui only because he cannot see how they are useful.

HFS

No, I don't mean the radio station. That stands for "Holy Fucking Shit!" I just watched a bootleg (or at least an import) copy of Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children. Fucking WOW. (Brief side note: My brother got the copy of it and waited for me to come home from work to watch it with me. He could've watched it earlier tonight, but he waited for me. It reinforces the sometimes-fading thought that beneath his teenage "fuck all of you" attitude he truly does love and care for his family.) But yeah, fucking WOW.

Ask any gamer to name the top 10 video game series, and Final Fantasy is bound to be on that list (probably in the top five). The games are consistently high-quality, using the best that the systems of the time have to offer. The stories are great, with characters you really care about, and the game play makes them pretty easy to play. Final Fantasy VII stands out among the others though, truly the best of the best. You become so wrapped up in the story, so hell-bent on trying to figure out the mystery behind the main character you're controlling, that it's easy to play for hours on end. (Once you get out of the city, that is; the first 4-5 hours are okay, but not the best in terms of replay.) It was a very landmark game, and as far as I'm concerned, my character's job description by the end of the game was "Fuck shit up."

Now, FFVII was the first of the series for the playstation, and it was great. FFX was the first of the series for the PS2, and it was every-ounce as awesome. Same deal as with VII; great story, characters, game play, etc. The fact that the characters spoke verbally rather than in text was also a nice touch. And for a while I would've put X as the best. Clearly, I'm not alone either, because the ending to X disappointed so many people (it wasn't the traditional "happy" ending that most people expect) that Squaresoft made an unprecedented move and made an actual Final Fantasy sequel: FFX-2.

But I had heard whispers and rumors that a movie sequel (done in CGI, natch) was coming out to FFVII. Then I saw the preview. And I fell in love with that game and its characters all over again. So I decided to play the game through again before the movie came out, and I have to confess that my faith was a little shaken. For the first 4-5 hours (see above comment) I was bored, thinking "What the hell did I see in this game?" Once I was 15ish hours in though, (for those of you non-gamers, non-RPGers, most RPG video games boast between 40-50 hours of gameplay, if not more) I went "OOOOOOOOH Yeaaaaaaah... That's why this game kicked ass...." And now I've seen the sequel, and it was a monster movie. (Not actually a "monster" movie; just "great.") I'm not sure they could've done a better job in translating video-game techniques (such as special abilities) into a movie setting. And, for the first time in the two-ish months since I sold my video games and system and such in the move to a simpler life, I actually miss them. Because I would, without question, go spend the next few hours playing FFVII if I still had it. But I can't, so I won't. I will have to re-think my decision to go as Eric Draven from The Crow for Halloween though. I might instead have to go as Cloud Strife: http://www.angelfire.com/nm/fainflinn/cloud2.html

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

A new start?

I'm going to try (when I can remember) to put some of my favorite taoist stories and lessons up here on a regular basis. I'll start with two of them, but the future will probably just be one at a time. Enjoy!

THE JOY OF THE FISHES

Chuang Tzu and Hui Tzu were crossing Hao river by the dam. Chuang said "See how free the fishes leap and dart? That is their happiness."

Hui replied "Since you are not a fish, how do you know what makes fishes happy?"

Chuang said "Since you are not I, how can you possibly know that I do no know what makes fishes happy?"

Hui argued "If I, not being you, cannot know what you know, it follows that you, not being a fish, cannot know what they know."

Chuang said "Wait a minute! Let us get back to the original question. What you aske me was 'How do you know what makes fishes happy?' From the terms of your question, you evidently know I know what makes fishes happy. I know the joy of the fishes in the river through my own joy, as I go walking along the same river."


THE NEED TO WIN

When an archer is shooting for nothing
he has all his skill.

If he shoots for a brass buckle
he is already nervous

If he shoots for a prize of gold
he goes blind
or sees two targets-
He is out of his mind!

His skill has not changed. But the prize
divides him. He cares.
He thinks more of winning
than of shooting-
And the need to win
drains him of power.

Monday, September 19, 2005

Query

Why did blogger move all my profile stuff to the bottom of the screen? Have I been posting too much too frequently or something?

Ani and Ben

I am gradually, gradually growing out of buying toys. I bought the occasional toy well into my adult years, mostly for the sake of nostalgia. When I was, like, 21/22ish I spent 40-some dollars to buy all five Voltron lions to relive my youth. I’d occasionally buy a Transformer, or a Talking Stitch, or somesuch; I suppose it was in a vain effort to hold onto my more youthful, more carefree days. At some point, however, I finally realized that I don’t really play with toys anymore (well, not more than the first five minutes anyway) and I’m not much of a collector either. So I basically had a motley collection of toys floating around my room and the attic, none of which served any real purpose anymore than to take up otherwise empty space. So I bid a final adieu to nostalgia, junked the toys, and stopped wasting my money on such things. With one exception: I had to spend the $15 each to get the Star Wars Unleashed versions of Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi. The whole “Unleashed” series depicts various characters at crucial points in the movies, and they are created with an astounding attention to detail in regards to the emotions the character is dealing with at the time. Both the Obi-Wan and Anakin figure (and I find it entertaining that neither name shows up as a spelling error in Microsoft Word (although a lower-case microsoft does...)) convey terrible heartbreak; in Obi-Wan it is married with a sense of duty overcoming sadness; in Anakin it is coupled with rage and confusion.

For me, the most meaningful duel throughout the entire Star Wars saga is the one (well, the first one) that takes place between Kenobi and his onetime apprentice. I don’t feel as though it’s because it was the duel people (well, Star Wars fans anyway) had been waiting to see on screen either. (We all knew that in the history of Star Wars, it had to happen, but the details and visuals were highly anticipated.) Although the Yoda/Palpatine duel is certainly entertaining, I think it pales in comparison to the one between Kenobi and Skywalker, and here’s why: Yoda and Palpatine fight almost as gods. They are the very archetypes of good and evil, and while it is fascinating to see those two duke it out, we don’t truly understand either of them. Yoda is so just and Palpatine so insidiously selfish that they’re both out of reach for us. We don’t relate to them.

But Anakin and Obi-Wan? They’re just people. They’re two sides of the same coin, the very coin that rests in our hearts. Any given one of us has the potential to be either of these characters. Anakin, by this point, is not entirely evil. He has remorse for what he has done, and is visibly torn-up by it. But he consoles and steadies himself with the fact that he’s only doing it to be able to save the woman he loves. (A partial-truth, as we all know, but truth does lie in the eye of the beholder.) Obi-Wan, on the other hand, is not some high-and-mighty do-gooder come from on-high to smite the wicked. He is equally as distraught as Anakin. Anakin was his apprentice, his friend, his brother, and now his enemy. Obi-Wan suffers during their duel as much as Anakin. For Anakin, the suffering comes from the awakening knowledge that what he’s doing is wrong, but he feels he is beyond redemption. For Obi-Wan, he is saddened and disappointed by what his friend has become, but he cannot allow others to suffer because of it.

As I said, both characters can be found within our souls. When we allow anger and selfish whims to rule our lives, we become more like Anakin. When peace and love govern our thoughts and actions, we are more like Obi-Wan. And the scary thing, for me, lies in our potential to be either. Under different circumstances, the positions of that dual could be reversed, with Obi-Wan being the fallen Jedi and Anakin doing what he must for the sake of the galaxy. And I think in that case, the emotions felt in each position would not be any different, just also switched. Regardless of which was Jedi and which was Sith, neither of them are completely good or evil. They both know right from wrong, but one lives by it while the other attempts to forget it.

The two figures in my room, designed to lock together to represent this epic battle, are a reminder of the private war we wage within ourselves (nice alliteration, huh?) every day of our lives. Emotions are a wonderful, powerful thing, but when coupled with an ego, they can do as much damage as they can benefit. I like to pretend that I’m more like Obi-Wan; that I place the needs of others above my own wants. But the truth is that I’m deathly afraid that the Anakin within either has or will one day surface, and I will be lost.

Catastrophes and Horrors!

I want you all to brace yourselves for this. I, um… I was taken totally off guard by it. I suppose the signs were there, but in my ignorance, I completely ignored them. Maybe if I’d’ve been more attentive, I could’ve prevented this from happening. Maybe I could’ve just been better prepared for it. I don’t know… time holds too many possibilities. But… well, this morning I woke up and I started with breakfast, and I always grab the comics to read while I eat breakfast. Our newspaper, The Sun, apparently has changed its format. And… I can barely see the screen through the tears as I type this… -sniff- my comics page was rearranged! Garfield wasn’t where I left him! Pearls Before Swine wasn’t where I left it! And Zippy? Well, I confess to not being smart enough to ever really know where Zippy was in the first place. I… I’m still looking for casualties. Everyone seems to still be there, just… just misplaced. But with so many loveable characters, I’m worried that I’m forgetting someone, and that thought itself just devastates me.

Furthermore, The Sun continues to run Ask Amy! Some time ago, they got rid of Dear Abby for Ask Amy! I don’t know what schmuck made that decision, but if they haven’t been fired and stabbed in the eye with a steak knife, then they should be. Abby runs circles around Amy. Amy sucks! Someone’ll write in “Oh Amy, my step-father molests me. What should I do?” And Amy’ll be all like “Well, you have to accept that your step-father has a role in your life now. It’s the person your mom chose to be with, and she’s not going to leave him just because you think he’s less than perfect. Your best bet would be to just put up with it. You don’t mention if you have any other siblings. If you did, perhaps you could try to push him off onto them every once in a while.” Good God! Abby, on the other hand, would be beating down that person’s door with a shotgun and the 4th Reich! “You like being sick and twisted huh you pedophilic freak? How’s this for sick and twisted? Ch-Chk. BOOM! Now if you touch her again, and I’ll blow off your other head, got it?” … Okay, so maybe those are exaggerations. But Abby always seemed not only wiser and more helpful to me than Amy is, but Abby also seems to legitimately care about the people who write to her. She sends ‘em free books and shit. Amy seems to just be thinking about her payday in another four days. I’m just sayin’.

Update the Third and some more

I. SWEAR. TO GOD. IF I LOSE ONE MORE POST BECAUSE I'M TRYING TO COPY AND PASTE IT PRECISELY SO I DON'T LOSE IT, I WILL KILL THE ENTITY KNOWN AS BLOGGER. AND IF IT ISN'T ALIVE, I'LL CONDUCT EXPERIMENTS TO GIVE IT LIFE, JUST SO I CAN KILL IT.

That being said, we get the short, SHORT version of my attempts at posting. Ready? Here we go.

1) Talk at work went well. Owner's on our side. He can't do anything about it yet 'cause his wife's about to have surgery and he won't be around but he wants his staff to have patience because he is concerned about keeping us happy. He's already talked to them once (earlier the day I gave him the letter) and believes he successfully scared the shit out of them. He basically wants me to spy for him to keep him updated on how things are going.

2) I don't much buy into fate. "You are free to sever the chains of fate that bind you." I'll dress up in a french maid's outfit and clean someone's house if you can tell me where that quote comes from. I like a Calvin and Hobbes where Calvin is proclaiming the wonders of being fatalistic because it absolves people of any sense of responsibility. Hobbes then trips him and blames it on fate. But lack of responsibility is precisely the reason I don't like the notion of fate. People are in control of their own lives, and that scares some of them. BUT, in a very Taoist way, I believe there are certain things that SHOULD happen, and if we get ourselves out of life's way and let it happen, things turn out better than if we'd've actually tried in the first place. The more we screw with the natural way of things, the more trouble we cause.

3) www.rmsci.com/picarchive/jpe1.jpg This is a picture of my dream car. I've ranted about it before, and am more than happy to give anyone details should they request them. I truly believe this car represents my single greatest obstacle to living a simple life, because I love cars, I love driving fast (though I've finally learned that public roads aren't the place to do so), I love tinkering with cars and making them faster, etc. And the Caterham Seven represents the epitome of all those loves. But I'm not sure if owning a sports car in the face of the world's poverty is an acceptable thing or not. I'm trying to find my place between the extremes of Donald Trump and Buddha. I think I'm more towards the Buddha-end of the stick, but exactly how far is a question I've yet to definitely answer. I suppose the best thing to do for now is to square up the debt I have to free myself to go where life will take me. And while that answer will do for now, I suppose, it doesn't allow much in the way of planning for the future.

All that said, I'm going to utter one more plethora of curses against all that it blogger, calm myself, mutter another curse or two under my breath, smile, realize it's just a computer program and it's bound to have flaws, and go to bed with a profound sense of peace. Either that, or continue to curse my way up the stairs that an hour-ish of typing was shot to shit. I'll let you know later what I decided.

(Okay, anyone explain this one to me? If I use the keyboard to highlight my text to copy and paste, it deletes what I've written. If I use the mouse, I can highlight with no problem, but "right-clicking" in the effort to choose "copy" simply unhighlights everything. ... ... ... ... ... WHY WON'T BLOGGER LET ME COPY AND PASTE!!! AAARAHARARHARARHARAHRAHRAHAA!!!! ... profound sense of peace, my ass...)

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Getting Ready

I know, I know; how could I possibly have a non-war update in the midst of all this drama? It's easy! (Actually, not so much; this is my second attempt at doing so.) But a friend of mine helped prompt a topic for discussion (and by "discussion," I mean "talking at you").

She said that there was a party tonight (honestly, more of a "lame" gathering; her words) and that she didn't feel like getting ready. My question was "why get ready?" "Getting ready means, clothes, make-up, and drying my hair." Okay, the clothes thing I can understand, but I didn't quite grasp the make-up and hair drying part. I suppose that, for women, all three of those things are the male equivalent of "putting clothes on." But I'm not sure about that. I mean, guys have to comb their hair, and shave and whatnot. And those are things that, if I'm just going to hang out, I don't worry about. I mean, I don't typically go out reaking of BO and nastiness (at least I hope not; I'd like to think my friends would give me a heads-up about that sort of thing.) Eventually, I got out of her that there were going to be guys there. And, I can kind of understand the need to primp a little bit in that regard, but still.

How did this come about in society? I think (and this is just an off-the-cuff thought) that it stems from our seemingly inherent fear of being alone in life. Like a peacock, we make ourselves as bright and shiny and pretty as possible so to attract a mate. However, unlike a peacock, we try to alter ourselves to accomplish this goal. When was the last time you saw a peacock rob a fabric store because they were looking to attach brighter and more exotic colors to themselves? Never! (Well, there was that one time, but I could tell it was all coked-out.)

But people do this! And the amazing thing to me, is that when most people are interviewed about what they find most attractive, it's NON-physical things, like "a sense of humor," or "able to hold a conversation," or maybe even subtle physical things, like "eyes." For the most part, the people that say "big boobs" or "washboard abs," these aren't the kind of people worth dating. (Well, I don't think so, anyway.) Not to say that I'm turned off by big boobs (or washboard abs, for that matter); it's just that in the grander scheme of things, those things don't really matter. And I don't think I've ever heard ANYONE say "The thing I find most attractive about women is the make-up. When they wear that right shade of blush, oooooooWE! It's hot."

But, (there're a lot of buts in this posting, aren't there?) I guess that can be construed as a more subtle thing. A guy could say "the face," and the make-up prettifies the face; helps hide wrinkles or whatnot. (How the hell do I know what makeup does? I'm a dude!) Everyone seems so obsessed with physical appearance, and I think it's mostly advertisements to blame. If the ads we saw on TV didn't feature barbi-preportioned women and ahnold-preportioned men, this problem wouldn't be nearly as bad. And no, I'm not ranting about this 'cause I look like the hunchback of notre dame (though he is quite the handsome fellow, if I do say so myself.) It just kinda bothers me, is all. I like natural beauty. I like a smile that's pure and mostly innocent (entirely innocent wouldn't be any fun at all, eh what?) I like eyes that express compassion and what the french call a certain "joy of life." And really, I don't like all that much makeup. I mean, it has to be a lot before I DISlike it. But I don't need it. I haven't dated a woman without saying, at least once, "you don't really need to wear makeup around me." I mean, if we're going to the opera or something, alright, fine. I tend to be laid-back as far as my style is concerned (I LOVE my tai-chi pants these days, light-weight and loose; I just wish they had pockets), but even I'll put on a suit for something like that. But day-to-day basis? Going to an amusement park? Or camping? Just save makeup for special occasions, and it'll serve multiple purposes. 1) it won't take you quite as long to get ready. 2) you can weed-out the guys who're after you 'cause you look young or have that just-right shade of blush on your cheeks. (which, I think, would constitute womanizers or gay men.) 3) When you're exerting yourself (and I honestly was just thinking the camping example; get your minds out of the gutter) you don't have to worry about sweating a little. And 4) when you put it on for special occasions (i.e. the opera or anniversaries (or an anniversary at the opera)) it'll actually mean something. Then it becomes the guy equivalent of wearing a tie: not something you expect from us all the time, but something appreciated when the time comes for it to happen.

I do feel I should make an emphasis that there is a difference between primping and being presentable. I'm not a savage. I don't wear loincloths and moccasins wherever I go. My pants don't have holes in them and they aren't hanging off my ass. My shirts don't have a nipple protruding from them (well, except when I go clubbing.) That's "presentable." But I'm not gonna wear a suit to go grocery shopping, nor will I shave specifically because I'm going hiking. Those things are "primping". So ladies, I'm not saying to wear baggy, holey pants with an oversized camoflage coat and armpit hair blending into your head hair. That's a shade less than presentable. But as far as I'm concerned? 95% of the time I'll be happy with combed hair, clothes that fit (not necessarily form fit, although, as a male, I admit that has a certain effect on us), and smile at me. And that's how you can land yourself the nicest hunchback that notre dame has ever seen.

War Update #2

It's easy to think of names for these posts when they're simply "War Update #x." I hope this war never ends. (For those of you just joining, I'm not actually at war in the bang-bang, explosion and death sense. I'm just fed up with an incompetent, obnoxious, and various other derogatory terms boss and I, along with a coalition of other veteran employees and managers are fighting back.)

I turned in my letter of complaint to the owner. I write letters for these things because I don't do very well at confrontation. It's not that I'm afraid of it; but I think the inherent over-sensitivity that seems key to my nature rears its ugly head when I'm trying to stick up for myself or others, and my words get all jumbly, and I miss out on points that I'd make under other circumstances. When I write, I can revise and make sure that all of my points are addressed, and my thoughts are organized, rational, if I do say so myself, persuasive. (I think my favorite non-philosophy class in school was "Writing Argument" because it meshed so well with the various things philosophy had taught me.) But further, in a letter, the person reading can't cut me off in the middle as they could in a conversation.

Yeah, so I turned the letter in yesterday. He called me today. I was still asleep, but even as such, I sensed a great disturbance in the Force. (Not true: when I'm asleep, you could pilot a helicopter outside my window and I'd be oblivious.) Anyway, when I woke up and found out he called, I have to admit that I did get nervous. I mean, I know my letter extended the offer to talk further about my grievances, but I didn't particularly expect him to take me up on it. What more could I say that wasn't in my letter? (It was four pages. I've said it before, and I'll say it again; I write a lot.) But, after a half-hour of anxiety, I summoned a wealth of courage from the fact that I wanted resolution, and that I truly had nothing to fear. It's not like he was going to eat my soul (He hasn't done that for some time; not since he accidentally ate the soul of a panda and spent a week gnawing on bamboo shoots.) So, I called him back, but he had to go to court for something and wouldn't be back all day. I get to call him tomorrow now. I think perhaps I should get up a little sooner than normal to make sure I catch him before he leaves again. That kind of sucks, because earling mornings and I go together like humans and panda souls, but oh well.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

War Update #1

I've completed the first draft of my letter to the owner. It's over 3 pages long. (I told you I write a lot.) An alliance has been formed, commanded by two of the managers, and filled-out by at least two senior servers and at least one senior busser (who wants to be head of the spec-ops team. I didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise...) Right now, we're like a bunch of smaller countries trying to liberate themselves from an oppressive over-country. Not much luck of doing it by ourselves. But we're trying to convince the USA (i.e. the owner) to join our side, and if that happens, said over-country doesn't stand a chance. Our war cry? SPOOOOOOOOOON!!!! ... unofficially. But doesn't it sound good? The Tick was on to something there.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

War!

I'm fed up with the newest managers at my job. Fed up with them rewriting their own schedules to suit their own needs on a day-to-day basis (when said schedules profoundly affect us, the laypeople). Fed up with them griping at us with the broad generalization that "things didn't get done last night" without mentioning any specifics, implying that the things that didn't get done were probably the very things they had to do. Fed up with them drinking and being rowdy (both on and off the clock) while we're supposed to be the vision of perfection. Fed up with a lot, and I'm not going to take it anymore. I may not be a manager, but I am a senior server, and dammit, I'm a philosopher. I can tell right from wrong and I can tell just from unjust. I'll no longer stand for the hypocracy demonstrated by these two hell-spawn. I would never say I've liked my job, but I certainly haven't hated it with the passion I have in the past few weeks. I've never thought about walking out until recently. And if I'm at a point that I'm considering quitting, well I'm at least gonna go fighting. I'll be fired for sticking up for myself and my fellow coworkers before I quit. The other managers don't like the two new ones any more than I do, and they too see what's going on. As of today, I think an alliance has been formed amongst them. Now it's up to me to rally the rest of the staff to voice their opinions and see if, together, we can't get the owner to cut these two jackoffs loose. I'm kind of like a general mixed with a kamikazi pilot; if I can't get the troops to destroy the target, I'll do it myself, even if it means sacrificing myself. Engarde!

Monday, September 12, 2005

Plagerism

www.waiterrant.net is one of the websites I visit regularly. The guy's in the service industry and speaks quite frankly about the multitude of assholes that we encounter on a regular basis. But today, his post was something different, and I want to share it. I hope that by giving a link to his site, that I'm not infringing on a copyright or anything. If I am, someone just tell me and I'll remove this post. I don't want to be sued for something as innocent as trying to spread understanding. Here's what he wrote most recently:

"The God Who Drowns

I’m driving into work listening to 1010 WINS. The news coming out of the Gulf Coast is nothing less than horrific.

Pulling into the parking lot I listen to a man describe how his boss listened helplessly as his elderly mother, trapped in the rising floodwaters at her nursing home, pleaded for help….
“The guy who runs this building I’m in, emergency management, he’s responsible for everything. His mother was trapped in St Bernard nursing home, and every day she called him and said, “Are you coming, son? Is somebody coming?” And he said, Yeah, Momma, somebody’s coming to get you.”
“Somebody’s coming to get you on Tuesday.”
“Somebody’s coming to get you on Wednesday.”
“Somebody’s coming to get you Thursday.”
“Somebody’s coming to get you on Friday’”
Then, with keening sobs, the man wails, “And she drowned Friday night.”

I shut the radio off and kill the engine. I have tears in my eyes. Tightness constricts my chest. I imagine it’s my mother pleading for her life. I try and shake the imagery out of my head but I can’t. Adrenaline pumps through my system. My hands start shaking. Sick desolation spreads out from the pit of my stomach.

I remember the last time I felt like this - when I stood on the banks of the Hudson and watched the Twin Towers fall, thinking about thousands of frightened people dying at the same time, my sense of helplessness in the face of something incredibly huge and evil. That was almost four years ago. The old woman’s pleas bring those sensations flooding back with a vengeance.
There are times, if you think about life, that the world is a cruel and horrible place.
I realize I’m in no shape to go to work. I have to get a grip or I’ll snap at the first customer who complains about some petty nonsense. There’s a church near my job. It’s open during the day. I duck inside and grab a pew in the back.

The coolness of the hushed church, the smell of incense lingering in the air, envelops me. I gaze down the length of the church and fixate on the tabernacle. The place where, when I was little, I believed God lived. I haven’t sat in a church in a long time. My mind is a sickened blank. What to say? What to ask the Almighty?

Almighty my ass. What a sick joke. When was the last time He saved anybody?
This exercise in futility, I think to myself. I don’t believe God answers prayers. I haven’t in a long time. I think back to when some kids were abducted earlier this summer. Both sets of parents pleaded and prayed for their child’s return on national TV. One was found alive, the other dead in a ditch. The mother of the recovered child said. “I tell you today that God answers your prayers!” But what did that other mother think? Was not her child just as special? Why didn’t God answer her prayers? Does God play favorites? And don’t tell me its part of some Divine plan because if it is I want no part of it.

I’m sure that old woman prayed for her deliverance as the waters rose. I’ll bet she was praying right up until the fetid water filled her lungs and snuffed out her life. Goddamn it. No one deserves to die that way. But ask any cop, he’ll tell you – people die scared and alone everyday. So much for praying to the Almighty. You might as well be praying to the Easter Bunny for all the good it’ll do you.

But we want God to come and save us. In times of desperate horror we become childlike. We want a bearded man in flowing robes to swoop down from heaven in Spielbergesque fashion and save us. But he won’t. God doesn’t stop levees from failing, he doesn’t stay the force of tsunamis, and he doesn’t stop planes from smashing into buildings. Deus Ex Machina is overrated.
Suddenly the door to the church noisily swings open. I look up. An old woman shuffles in and laboriously makes her way up the central aisle. She smiles as she passes me. I smile back. This old lady’s like a hundred and two. Her head’s drooping below her shoulders, her womanly form obliterated by age and gravity. I watch her slow progress as she marches to the front of the church. I shake my head. To be that old, that frail, that weak. Then I remember something I read in seminary long ago…

“God is weak and powerless in the world, and that is exactly the way, the only way, in which he can be with us and help us.”

The guy who said that was a Lutheran pastor named Dietrich Bonhoeffer. He was executed by the Nazi’s for trying to assassinate Hitler. This man knew Evil up close and personal. But he still cherished his faith in God and his belief in the goodness of the world. How did he do that in the face of such monstrosity?

Because he realized that God was not all powerful. He knew God wouldn’t swoop down and save him from his jailors. He understood there’s no division of sacred and profane, any secular and divine. He saw there’s only one reality and he believed that reality was God. And from within that insight he wrestled with the mystery of suffering.
God, Bonhoeffer would say, suffers with us. He shares in our pain. If you’ve ever been to a child’s funeral you know the only thing you can do is cry. God is like that person weeping in the funeral parlor. It was God who was pulverized when the Towers fell, it was God who burned in the Nazi’s ovens, and it was God who drowned in that nursing home in New Orleans.
That’s a hard lesson to learn. Maybe it’s not an answer at all. But the older I get the more this explanation makes sense. It is the only way I can wrap my mind around children dying and old ladies drowning.

But within Bonhoeffer’s words lies a challenge. Since God doesn’t come down in a blizzard of special effects to bail us out – we have to help each other. We recognize the suffering of others and are moved to relieve it. We can’t coop ourselves up in our apartments, churches, and mosques wishing all the bad things will go away. There’s no room for childish magical thinking. We have to act. The rescuers of 9/11 and the Gulf Coast understood this without all the fancy theological reflection. Bonhoeffer would say when we help each other that is God helping us. The human heart is moved by weakness not by strength. It is our brokenness, not power, that binds us together. Perhaps our weakness will be our salvation. Maybe that is how God “can be with us and help us.” Who knows? I’m only a waiter.

I begin to feel better. Things make a bit more sense. I close my eyes and relax.
Outside the church the world goes by. Someone blasts rap music from their car. I hear a man and woman argue. A girl laughs. I smile to myself. Lovers still cry out in joyous embrace, babies are born, children play, boys stride onto the world of affairs, and old men still dream dreams. The world, in spite of everything, is unfolding as it should.

I hear the old woman get out of her pew. I watch her travel down the length of the nave. She looks at me and nods. Her eyes have seen everything I’m going to see. She’s wisdom wrapped up in infirmity. Perhaps, just perhaps, in the paradox of God’s weakness lies his greatness – and the seeds of our own.

Looking at my watch I realize I’m late for work. I genuflect and head out the door, into the swirling mystery of a terrible and beautiful world. "

Personally, I have no doubt that the old woman he saw was God. He visits us, checks up on us, and inspires us. We just don't always realize that it's him.

Here we go again...

Okay. Earlier blog posting Take: 2. A very, unsettled, disgruntled 2, but 2 nonetheless. As I was saying (those of you who can read my thoughts from across the country know this), a conversation with a fellow blogger brought to mind what I might honestly call my only fear: that involving the destination of souls. A little background, perhaps, is in order.

I was raised relatively devout catholic. Catholic schools; church every Sunday + Holy days; etc. And I never questioned any of it until I was late-18, and met up with a girlfriend who would, more or less, change the course of my life. The year with her was probably the worst one of my life. I won’t get into it; it’s blood under the bridge, gore under the dam. But I’m ultimately thankful for that year, because it was in that year that I stopped going to church, and I have no doubt that without that lull, without that cessation of the heretofore nonstop influx of catholic doctrine, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. Without having that time to develop a more open mind, I probably wouldn’t have studied what I did in college, and I almost certainly wouldn’t have incorporated some of the religions I studied into my personal beliefs. It is primarily the thought that that horrid relationship ultimately helped me for the better that reinforces my belief that things happen as they need to, as long as we let them. (Taoist influence, that is.)

-sigh-… I can’t remember how I led into this in my original post, but basically I take issue with Christian notions of exclusivity, and the thought that all non-christians are going to hell. I personally don’t believe that, but my reasons are less taken from scripture but derived using a combination of logic and a feeling in my soul.

As far as the feeling is concerned, I just can’t buy into a loving God that would turn away from the majority of his children, and I can’t fathom the notion of an unloving god making fuckers like us in the first place, and not having already smite us in the second place. But my thinking along those lines stems from a comparison between us and God, which I’m sure some people would take issue with, but the fact of the matter is that if we’re made in god’s image, odds are that it isn’t simply an appearance thing, but likely a capability or emotional or mental similarity too. Christians (and Christians from here-out is intended to refer to those hard-nosed, in-your-face variety) believe that Christ was our last chance. That god gave the jews chance after chance and they blew them all, and finally he sent jesus as our final saving grace. And that’s where I take the most issue, from a feeling standpoint. See, if I have a loved one that I know is in some sort of danger, there won’t be a last chance for me to tell them that. Even if I go to them personally, after emailing them or calling them, and they still don’t listen, then I’ll send someone else they trust, or an official figure, or something. You don’t give up trying to save the people you love; don’t give up on ways to save them.

Using a blend of logic and feeling, I'm not sure that many christians would be saved if god were indeed as punishing as they make him out to believe. It is the genuine belief in jesus as our savior and the forgiver of our sins that saves us, right? How genuine is that belief though if we continue to sin? Worse, that we knowingly, and willingly continue to sin? I have yet to meet the sidewalk preacher yet who claims to not sin anymore. And I'm sure if I pushed the issue, they'd admit that there was something they did since becoming a christian that they knew they shouldn't do but did so anyway. If that's the case, how are they any different than us? Because they ask forgiveness? If I go to trial for a murder, and I say "Your honor, I'm truly very sorry for killing that person, really I am. But when I get out of here, I'm gonna go kill someone else. I'll be sorry for that too, though." What kind of judge would let me off the hook? (Yes, that is an extreme example, but keep in mind that all sins are on the same level in god’s eyes.) Christians knowingly sin, and they ask forgiveness knowing (at least in their subconsious) that they're going to sin again. If God is as Just and Judging as he is loving (as they assert), then they don't have a chance.

And just logic in and of itself? Let’s put it this way: Any sin, no matter how small, is enough to keep us from God and condemn us for eternity. And throughout the course of our lives, we sin all the friggin time, from the stuff we eat, to the things we do, and even the thoughts we have. Sin, sin, sin, sin, SIN! We sin, I think, a relatively infinite number of times in our lives. (Yes, I’m sure it could be counted, but work with me here; the number is quite a bit.) And that’s just one person. Since the beginning of time, there’ve been quite a few people; probably damn near an infinite number of them too. So over the course of existence, humanity has racked up an infinity squared number of eternal punishments. Quite the record. But wait! Here comes Jesus, who serves as the sacrifice for our sins! He takes the punishment for us so that we may be spared! And he endures… three hours of suffering and three days in the tomb? Isn’t that getting off kinda light? (lol; I half expect to be struck by a bolt of lightning as I write this.) I don’t mean to belittle what he went through, because it couldn’t have been easy; I saw “The Passion” and it made my stomach turn. But come on; in comparison to an infinite times infinite number of eternal sufferings? It just doesn’t add up to me. Now, other that perhaps “Logic doesn’t apply to God,” I think the most common response to that line of thought is that with God, all things are possible. If that’s the case, then I certainly believe he would find a way to reach people outside of Christianity. I saw a bumper sticker I loved that said “God is too big to fit into one religion.”

And here’s the thing: all the major religions of the world teach pretty much the same main principles. (In no particular order) 1) Material things don’t matter. 2) Take care of the earth. 3) Trust in a higher power. 4) Love others. 5) Don’t think of yourself as important. And that really about sums it up. However, I think the different religions do varying jobs of conveying those points. I picked up 3 & 4 from Catholicism without too much trouble. But 1 & 5 are kinda glanced-over, and 2 you really have to hunt for to find. But Taoism taught me 2 & 5 (and reinforced 1 &3), and Buddhism taught me 1 (and strongly implies 4 & 5). I think I’m a far better “Christian” now that I’m not as exclusively Christian as I used to be. I think I’m much more the better person, and by far doing more of God’s will than I was prior. So I see no reason to exclude other faiths, or even to doubt that they are sufficient in and of themselves; I’ve often encouraged others to consider other ways besides Christianity, and I’ve argued with more than one sidewalk preacher about (what I perceived as) the error of their ways.

But a fear lingers… what if I’m wrong? … What if Christianity is the only way? If that’s the case… I’ve not only wandered astray… I’ve brought others with me. I’ve placed not only my own soul in jeopardy, but also those who have trusted in me. And to be honest, I sometimes pray that if I am wrong, that I be forgiven my ignorance, or that at least those who have listened to me be forgiven. I don’t want anyone else to be damned for the things I do; that’s not fair to them. I distinctly remember a conversation with a hard-noser, and I told him that if I was wrong, “I was willing to go to hell.” “No one wants to go to hell,” was his response. “I didn’t say I wanted to. I said that I would accept it as punishment for my sins without complaint.” It was the only time I can remember a christian not having an answer.

But I honestly don’t think that the above case is true; I really can’t. I have my doubts sometimes, but they’re infrequent, and typically motivated by fear (as most doubts are). Perhaps the biggest reason for my confidence in this matter is that in questing for god, I’m staying true to myself. I totally dislike the whole “WWJD” concept, because if we all did what Jesus did, then we’d all be walking around preaching to other people who all believed the same thing, but we wouldn’t have to for very long ‘cause there’d be no farmers to provide us with food or seamstresses to provide us with clothes or construction workers to provide us with homes and we’d all die. I think I’ve mentioned this here before, but I think a much better question is “What would Jesus want me to do?” This question still conveys the right/wrong option of the existent one, but allows for individuality. And I think individuality is key in god’s plan, because he very easily could’ve made us all the same if that’s what he wanted.

I had a nice, concise, perfect way to wrap this up last time. But goddamn blogger had to go and fuck everything up, so now I struggle for an ending. Hmm… How about a fittingly sacrilegious quote from “The Crow?” Jesus Christ walks into a hotel. He puts three nails down on the counter and asks “Can you put me up for the night?” (Still waiting for that lightning bolt…)

Sunday, September 11, 2005

Rage... taking over

THIS POST WAS GOING TO BE ABOUT GOD AND RELIGION AND CHRISTIANITY AND ETC ETC ETC. HOWEVER. IN MY EFFORTS TO COPY IT AND PASTE IT INTO MICROSOFT WORD TO HAVE IT PRESERVED SHOULD BLOGGER DECIDE THAT IT DIDN'T WANT TO POST THE WHOLE ESSAY THAT I SPENT A LITTLE OVER AN HOUR WRITING, BLOGGER INSTEAD DECIDED TO SIMPLY DELETE EVERYTHING I HAD WRITTEN. THAT'S RIGHT. ALL GONE. I WAS HIGHLIGHTING IT, AND EVERYTHING JUST DISAPPEARED. TRY IT YOURSELF. WRITE A COUPLE LINES OF A POST, PRESS "SHIFT" AND "PAGE UP" UNTIL YOU REACH THE TOP, AND THEN HIT IT ONE MORE TIME. SEE WHAT HAPPENS.

I HATE BLOGGER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

On a different note, after I have managed to calm myself down (maybe tonight after work; maybe tomorrow) I will attempt to rethink, rewrite, and successfully post my writings. If you don't see the post within a day or two, it means I put my fist through the computer screen. You know, in a sage-like way.

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Day HIke

So, I took a day hike today. It was a spur of the moment decision, but those are the best afterall. I'm glad I did it; it was nice to get outside for a few hours, miles away from any sign of civilization. Once I got a few hours deep, I started wondering how I'd find my way back if the forest suddenly swallowed up the trail before and behind me. I decided that if I had enough food, that I wouldn't really care. The first part of the hike was the best, because I was just out enjoying myself; no real destination, no time-frame, none of that typically human stuff. The second part, though, I opted to follow a trail that led me to Lost Pond. Well, it was supposed to lead me to Lost Pond. A marker said it was only 0.6 miles ahead, and I know I walked at least that far. But I couldn't continue on the path because I'd been out for over two hours then, and I needed to get back so I could get to my Tai Chi class tonight. (It only took me about an hour to get back, but I took a different, more direct, path.) In any event, I think Lost Pond was lost. Maybe it didn't know where it was supposed to be. I dunno. But the lesson is that I enjoyed myself and my surroundings when I was meandering aimlessly. Once I developed a goal, someplace I wanted to be, and it fell into a time frame, the hike became less fun and started working its way towards a chore. There's a life lesson there too folks. It's okay to have goals, 'cause they give us a direction. But don't let the goal become so important that you miss out on everything along the way and forget to have fun. The experiences along the path are more important. Goals are important mostly because they give us a given path of experiences on which to walk.

Spammers

Okay, well, I thought I'd try going back to the whole "anyone can post" thingamajigger, but in less than 12 hours I had a spam hit, so now we're back to the "only registered bloggers can post." If you want to say anything (and don't know the other ways to reach me) you'll have to sign up for blogger. Don't worry, it's free. Just sign up, and then drop me a line. Okay? Okay.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Unnnnnnn...

All the french people out there are thinking "Why is this titled 'onnnnnnnnne'?" I'm tired. Getting up early and exercising is nice and all, but it also leaves a body pretty exhausted by the end of the day. So why am I sitting here writing all this rather than going to bed? I'm not. This posting is just a figment of your imagination.

Monday, September 05, 2005

Things to change

Arrogance: This is something my ex noticed about me. My friends kind of mock the assertion, but she was right. I am arrogant. Not all the time, but often enough. Arrogant enough to try to impose my advice on my friends' wills. This is with the noble-enough effort of wanting the best for them, but in so doing I was ignoring their need to be their own person; namely, a person that wasn't me. I remember being fairly popular in grades 1-5. When I moved, and started a new school in grade 6, I also distinctly remember becoming the opposite of popular. That more or less lasted through highschool. In college, I came to a sort of self-understanding, and as I studied philosophy, instead of gaining the overall self-confidence that I should like, I instead wound up with an odd blend of arrogance and self-doubt. The self-doubt, I have no question, comes from my years being mocked as a nerd. (Kinda funny that now I embrace myself as a nerd, and I have people tell me I'm not. My response is that I'm good with numbers, I like anime and video games, and if I had decent people to roleplay with, I'd still be doing that. Trust me; I'm a nerd. But I don't see it as a bad thing anymore.) The arrogance, again, no question, comes from being a philosopher. I think philosophers in general tend to be an arrogant bunch. Whether this comes from its nature (of questioning everything that other people take for granted) or from nurturing (teachers basically imparting on us that we're the academic versions of demigods) I can't say. But I do think the trend is there. Now, as Hegel would put it, I'm trying to take the thesis (arrogance) and the antithesis (self-doubt) and find the union of the two in a synthesis (confidence). We'll see if that works.

Self-importance: Not sure if that's the best term or not; maybe self-grandeurization? Nah, I think I just made that up. Anyway, I've read that pretty much everyone, when they're younger, has the feeling that they're destined for something great; something special. For me, that feeling never really left. I still feel like I am supposed to do something momentous with my life; something that will change the world. What, I'm not exactly sure. I've always suspected it has something to do with my inexplicable draw to go to Ireland (a draw that, frighteningly, has lessened of late; almost as if I'm losing my window for this purpose). But beyond that, I don't know. I've always wanted to be a teacher; first for highschool, then, as I refined my interests, as a college professor. But lately I'm not sure if that's the right course either. Becoming a professor would, I think most likely, entail a good deal of immersion into the world of materialism and prestige that I'm trying to avoid. The last thing I want is for my head to become even more bloated because I get a doctorate and I get esteem along with it. Truly, a further education in philosophy would only teach me what past philosophers have thought; it can no longer teach me how to think, how to philosophize, for myself, because I have already learned that. I've been taught the skills of questioning and looking deeper, and been shown examples of others doing the same. To pursue this further would not be for my own benefit, but simply so I could become an esteemed professor. It would make a me a student of philosophy, rather than a philosopher. But with a doctoral degree having been my long term goal for the past few years, I feel lost now that I might want to dismiss it. I can teach others with what I know already; they don't need to learn about the things Heideggar questioned, or the systems of thought that Descartes and Kant developed. They need only learn to question, to look past what they're told to the other side of the coin, to be themselves and to make decisions based only on that. I, truthfully, would love to just wander the globe. Travel simply (on foot, if necessary) from place to place, helping those in need wherever I find them. But I'm not sure how to go about doing that. Join the Red Cross? Or some other volunteer organization? I don't know if that would allow the freedom, the guided-by-my-gut feeling that I'm looking for. I could do it on my own, but how would I fund myself? I could handle sleeping outside (just head south for colder months), but food is important, and I'd like to be able to bathe on occasion, you know? I listed this self-importance as a flaw because I thought it tied into the arrogance somehow, but after elaborating a bit, I don't think it does. If anything, I think it's a positive attribute, because it may be all that keeps me from getting lost in the day-to-day doldrums in which many people find themselves.

Argumentative: I can't let other people be right. (Unless they're agreeing with me, of course.) This is more evident in person than in what I read. This one, I think, comes from Socrates' assertion that humans can't have real wisdom; but only a sort of negative wisdom where we acknowledge that we don't really know anything. Unfortunately, as in Socrates' era, there aren't many people who think that way; most people I've encountered think they know everything. (Myself included, sometimes.) And it's something that we do as a species to talk about things on which we truly have no knowledge. It's easy enough to sit back and say that such-and-such sports team should've done this, or that so-and-so politician should've acted thusly. But we don't know the whole situation. And we never will, until we're in that position. But we talk about such things as though we know full-well what the situation is. (At least when I give advice, it's on a person-to-person level, based on knowledge of that person, and it typically is only of the sort that if a certain thing causes unhappiness, than they shouldn't do it. Beyond that, I don't profess to know much.) Let's take Mrs. Katrina for example. I'll agree that our government was, shall we say, "sluggish" in its response to that disaster. I struggle to think that we couldn't have done something quicker than we did. But what? I don't know. I don't pretend to know either. But I read all these editorials with people spouting out what the government should or shouldn't have done, and I can't help but think that if they have all the answers, why aren't they president? Better yet, why don't they take a week or two off of work and go down there to try to help? Oh, but no. Then, they talk about the bills they have to pay, the responsibilities they have and whatnot. And they're right; they do have their own lives to worry about. But it seems hypocritical to me to point the finger elsewhere and say "you should have done more and you should have done it faster" when they themselves haven't lifted said finger to help. What about our multi-million dollar athletes? Why isn't anyone holding them accountable? Surely with their private jets and their super-fast sports cars, they could've helped evacuate people too, right? But again, no. They aren't responsible for that. Our government is. It's our government's job to take care of its citizens. Wrong. It's all of our jobs to take care of each other. Instead of writing letters complaining, those people should spend that time doing something themselves about it. Me? I, like the others, can't just take time off of work to go help right now. I too have responsibilities. However, I'm not trying to blame others for not acting either. I'm sending clothes, and I will be sending money. Christ, with all the people in this country, if everyone sent one t-shirt and one pair of pants to the people affected by this storm, they'd have more clothes than they ever did before Katrina. But I can guarantee you that they'll still be poor, because not everyone will. "It's your job to fix this; not mine." ... You know, I'm not entirely sure how I got onto this subject. I suppose it's because the hypocracy of people (again, myself included) is what makes me argue. I want them to have accountability for the things that happen in their lives. Maybe I don't know, maybe I'm not right, but I try to make sure that others know that they aren't right either. That they really don't know. But if arrogance should be confidence, and self-importance (or whatever) should simply be staying true to my role in this world, than being argumentative should be nothing more than leading by example.

Councilor: Ah, yes... this has been the topic of many-a-post here. I spout advice like a sprinkler stuck in the on position. If you're within the blast radius, you're gonna get hit. This is linked to the arrogance thing in a few ways, I think. Firstly, in many cases, I truly think I know what's best for people. So I make sure to tell them. Over, and over, and over again. But also, it's an example of a good trait taken too far. Moderation being the key to all things (not cowardice, not agressiveness, but bravery), my advice-giving tendancy is an example of overshooting the mark. With the arrogance, it came from passing over confidence. In this case, it comes from wanting to help people, to help them better enjoy their lives. But it has fused with the desire to be right to the point where I end up dictating how so-and-so should live their lives, even when there's been no advice solicited. One of the ways that I'm trying to remedy this is by respecting others' individuality. When I'm asked for advice, I'm trying to turn their question inward; help them to find the answer within themselves. Further, if my eagerness to give advice truly comes from caring too much, I'm also trying not to distinguish in who I care about. I want to reach a point where I care about everyone, people I like and people I don't particularly care for, as a parent would their child. Protect them, but allow them to take their own risks. Tell them of my mistakes, but respect their need to make their own. And perhaps most importantly, to not judge them for the choices they make. ... I think this last one will be quite difficult, and many, many years in the works. But I have to be able to do that one day.

I think my postings are getting longer and longer. It probably takes most of you an entire lunch break just to read them by this point. And honestly, this one's gonna have to continue for at least one more later posting. My list of flaws was originally just going to be a list, but I felt like I needed to explain why I think I have those particular flaws and what I'm trying to do about them. Hmmm... first flaw for the next time? I talk too damn much.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Revelations

You know what I've discovered? In an average day, I have a great idea about what to write about on here at LEAST once, sometimes more than once (i.e. more than one topic). But, come the end of the night, my mind's a total blank. I have no FRIGGIN clue what I wanted to write about tonight! And it was meaningful and purposeful too! I'm pretty sure it was... I remember being excited about posting it. And now? *Poof!* Thoughtsies go bye-byes. It's kinda frustrating.

I do know that at some point I would like to start a running list of my flaws up here; kind of to get them out in the open, and to make myself face them. ... Trouble is, I'm not sure if blogger can handle such a big post. Seriously though, that's something I've been wanting to do for a while, and it never quite feels like the right time to do it. I think it's a little bit of fear involved. I mean, my thinking is that if I can list out things that I'd like to fix about myself, and acknowledge them, then I can start trying to correct them. But I'm not sure that I want to see that list... I think there's a lot of bad thoughts and memories that my mind has surpressed so I can go about my day-to-day routine. I'm not saying that I've killed hobos with a hammer (not that you don't not know about...). My life has been relatively clean-cut, I know, but there are still things that I've done that I'm not proud of... people I've hurt, for the most part.

The comic books I used to read occasionally used an essay in an issue, and sometimes it was notations alongside dialogue, and sometimes it was on its own. Wolverine is an issue I particularly remember, where the only words were from an entry in Electra's journal from being a kid, but they were spaced throughout the pages so that they made total sense with a completely different tale being told by the pictures. (That was actually one of my favorite issues, and one of my favorite quotes came from it. The gardener of her household yells at her for carelessly hoeing a plant by accident, talking about how she must respect life. Being a clever child (her words, not mine) she fires back "The weeds! We kill the weeds, don't we?" And the gardener thinks for a moment before answering "Yes, we kill the weeds. But we are careful not to take pleasure in doing it." That always stuck with me. But I digress.) Anyway, one of these issues done like this (but one for which the specifics elude me) dealt with anger. What causes it... where does it come from... how powerful it is... and perhaps worst, how scary it is that it can silently creep up on you without you even knowing it.

That was a long paragraph to get to this point, but I think past episodes of anger are the memories I run from the most... things I've said, or done, in a rage. Be it because my feelings are hurt, or my pride. Maybe I wasn't sure how else to handle things? But when anger takes over... that's the times I most regret. That's when I try to hurt someone else. Not physically; I don't think I've ever punched anyone in my life... except maybe my brother, but he doesn't count; he deserves it anyway. But I try to hurt their feelings; make them feel small; make sure they know that I'm better than they are. ... But I'm not... I'm no different from them. I'm envious of holy men... sages, if you will. They're able to enjoy life, and to experience positive emotions, without letting negative emotions get the better of them. When sad things happen, sure they're affected, but they don't dwell on it. They put themselves behind others; not competing, not trying to better them... just accepting the people around them for who they are. More than anything, that's what I want out of life... not a woman... not a great job... not a fancy car... I want peace. I want to find that inner peace, and be able to stay there even through turbulent times. But... I look at myself and my current job... and how am I ever going to be able to accomplish that when I can't even go through a day at work that way? Not a day goes by that I'm not trying to make some snotty customer realize that they aren't better than me. I have to make sure they know that they asked me for more pepsi right after I said I'd be back with some. Why can't I just respond "sure"? Why do I have to belittle them; to try to make them feel dumb?

It's a sad sort of irony that I was shying away from writing about my faults only to wind up doing it anyway. I guess that's been knawing away at me lately. I don't know... I'm not even sure where to write from here. I totally killed an otherwise decent mood. ... I think, a lot of times, when someone helps others, they do it either a) for the recognition (in the case of shallow people) or b) for the good feeling they get. Now, this isn't always the case, and it's the other case that I strive for: doing it just because it needs to be done. Not for any benefit to me. I want to help people, for no other reason then there's so many people in this world that need help. And I can't save them all, and I don't really want to aim that high. But I want to do something. I'm not ready yet though; what, am I gonna snap at someone I'm trying to help because they want me to do something different? At this point, I would. I'd get all pissed-off, thinking that I'm trying to help this person out, and this ungrateful SOB is lecturing me on how I'm going to help? I'm trying to reach a point, I need to reach a point, where I don't care about that. Where I don't care about being right, or proving someone else wrong. Where I just bring the goddamn pepsi without an arrogant attitude on the side. Why is that so hard to do?