Every time I try and explain the process of coming around to the church again, I feel like I need a chalkboard or something. Seriously.
I guess the best imagery I can think of right now, aside from a noodle-work of thought processes drawn out on a blackboard, is what goes on inside an atom bomb. I'd ask you to imagine you were watching atoms split and collide with each other, and those parts in turn colliding with others... and we all know the end result, but in my analogy I would call it Enlightenment.
I have an affinity with this Buddhist term. I'm sure this is not the first time you've heard me use it. But, I feel like I have thrown this word around carelessly. Because it means much more than just a deep realization of truth. The concept of Enlightenment is one that endlessly intrigues me, but one that I feel inept to explain. My post/transcription on "Rousing Bodhichitta" doesn't mention the roots of the word, bodhi means Enlightenment, chitta means mind. The sense in which enlightenment in my last post is simply learning, gaining knowledge. But the deeper meaning of enlightenment requires much more than simply realizing a truth, it is attained after overcoming hate, greed, and delusion. This is not exactly what I meant when I said I was on "a path to enlightenment", because the thought of being greedy is not flattering; of being hateful, I felt relatively light on the scale; on being delusional, I was delusional--thinking I was quite possibly the ONLY one in my right mind.
Now I am realizing just how very hateful and delusional I have been. I'm not saying that I have attained nirvana, or "ultimate enlightenment", I realize that I have not overcome ALL hate, greed or delusion. So, I am still on my path to Nirvana. ;)
I guess I got kinda side-tracked there.... Back to my atomic bomb analogy-- with the warning that I am totally ignorant when it comes to chemistry and physics (or whatever else is involved). Misnomers aside, I'm trying to describe how a million different things--all happening simultaneously--resulted in the bottom line; the *BOOM*.
The atoms represent individual bits of concept. My own query for knowledge was the initial free neutron that collided with these concepts. The first atom with which I collided was the LDS church. having divided the church into concepts, two more free nutrons were formed, which represent the understanding I took away from my collision with the church.
Those free Neutrons then collided with other concepts, the theories of Buddhism, and then existentialism. Those, too, were divided into my understanding, and application of those concepts in my life.
At the same time as the string of events I just described were happening, I was also experiencing a few other things for the first time. I moved out on my own about this time, or a little after. I was experiencing freedom of choice. Before, my mother had, for lack of a better term, perfected the art of coercion, and any relevant choices I made were influenced by external motivation (If I wanted A, I would have to do B, or else C; or if I did A, then B, until C.) I suppose this is how parents operate. But I think my mom had become much more focused on getting her way, than the relevance of the issues at hand. It eventually became the coercion I am speaking of, because I was being made to do things that only served her purposes, and failed to consider the impact it would have on me. Looking back, I can't say as I blame her. I only mention it to give you some understanding of my new sense of freedom.
I was free to be dirt poor; to look for a job, or not; to call home, or not; to go to church, or not. I didn't have to answer to anyone. Kinda a interesting realization, knowing you can make your own choices. I was 17. I was living about 3 hours away from home, in the college town where my sister was living. I got my first cell phone, my first housing contract... etc.
I was going to church, but I wasn't participating (I actually had a calling as building coordinator) beyond a social perspective. About this time I was starting to take a look at what I defined as Spirituality. All my life, I had understood spirituality to include faith and testimony, or love of the gospel. all things which I didn't feel I possessed. I also investigated my concept of what it means to feel the spirit. The best I could come up with was that I was supposed to feel some physiological sensation. The closest thing I could compare it to was getting the chills, as when someone says something really profound. But when I thought more on it, I realized that I got the same sensation when listening to music, even instrumental rock like Jeff Beck - Angel(footsteps). I arrived at the conclusion that this was just an physical response to strong emotion, and had nothing to do with some external spirit "bearing witness", which explains the whole movers and shakers scene in religion pretty well. Logically, I guess there was really only degrees of this same phenomenon in all religions, depending on each one's perception of how it "should be". Mormons obviously are more subdued than protestants or seventh-day Adventists, and therefore their concept of the Holy Ghost is also more mild. Same with "speaking in tongues".
When I became keen on existentialism, it sparked a personal philosophy of total humanism. Although, generally, the philosophy of existentialism raises the question of the existence of God to practitioner (if the practitioner has not already arrived at a conclusion about it) I was and have always been pretty certain that God exists. I considered myself a "theistic existentialist", which most consider to be an oxymoron. It made sense to me though. I reasoned that whether god existed or not, I was going to be a good person based solely on the fact that I knew what was right and wrong. I wasn't going to be "god-fearing" because that was an external motivation; to please someone (god, or fellow man), or to avoid judgment(again, by God, or fellow man). I believed (and still do, to much extent) that "it is the thought that counts". In other words, if I behave a certain way, but feel differently in my heart, then no amount of performance will justify my thoughts.
This was pretty much the philosophy that I operated by for the past 5 years or so. I expanded it, and applied it in many different aspects of my life, but the theory remained much the same until last year. when I decided to quit trying to make sense of the LDS church. This led to an attempt to define my relationship to this God that I could not reason didn't exist. I decided that there must be a God, a source of knowledge, a creator, but that he was not an intervening God. In short, I decided that someone had started the top spinning, and He was content to let it play out without helping it along. I was now a Deistic Existentialist...
Just a few months ago, this was my mindset. And I was motivated by anything that inspired me to be a better person, as long as it was not external motivation. I had, at this point, rejected organized religions as support groups for people who could not make sense of their lives, or could not come to terms with the inconsequence of their existence, or rather, the absence of a grand scheme. I was looking anywhere BUT the realm of religion for attributes that I wanted to have--a humanistic approach to life that centered around understanding, and compassion. However, the religious crowd didn't fall under the category of people who I felt understanding or compassion toward. I felt instead that they lacked understanding (of "reality"), and I couldn't muster compassion for anyone who was that obstinate. Overall, I still had love for them as individuals, though this was a skewed perception of them, because my compassion was compelled by the idea that they were simple-minded.
Thanks for reading. I didn't say the tenth part of what I wanted to in this post, but I don't want to chase you off with my long-winded explanations. Next time I'll pick up right here.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Rousing Bodhichitta
This is a transcription of a seminar called Pema Chödrön. I think it has some good points, some that have become very true in my life lately. Here are a few excerpts.
"...It's very traditional at the beginning of teachings--especially for Tibetan Buddhist teachers to encourage their students to "Rouse Bodhichitta" SO I'd like to say a little bit about what that means....
"... it's main topic, actually, is how to work with you own mind, and live your life in a way that you develop and begin to open, so that you can be of true benefit to other people. it's how to live in such a way that with your actions and your words, you can help others. And just by the model of your life, that you could inspire other people. How to wake up yourself, so that you could support other people in finding their own ability to wake up from any kind of ignorance, from any kind of hard-heartedness, from any kind of self-absorption--to help people do that.
"And so it's said that, when you "wake up" like that, the path of the Bodhisattva is very connected with this subject of Bodhichitta.
"Simply put... it's said, traditionally, that virtuous actions have virtuous results. And one kind of traditional or classic, virtuous action is to "listen to the Dharma"--listen to teachings that resonate with a deeper part of you, that somehow inspire you out of, maybe some kind of narrow, small perspective, and resonate with a part of you that can stay open. resonate with your open mind--unbiased, unprejudiced mind-- and resonate with your open heart.
So, when we say "Rouse Bodhichitta"... virtuous actions such as listening to the Dharma have virtuous results such as less emotional upheaval, results such as being able to keep your heart open in increasingly difficult situations. It's said that when we act in an open-hearted way--what's called traditionally "virtuously"-- then the result of that is that we ourselves are becoming more compassionate; more sane; have a better sense of humor; are more flexible, these kind of things.
"...this really means that you have the longing to be able to share with other people, your good fortune. That rather than--- you know, when things lighten up for us, either outer conditions or emotional stuff, you know, we want to horde it for ourselves and we might begin to get very stingy about--not feeling all that generous. Arousing Bodhichitta is a sense of immense generosity where you actually wish for other people to have the same good fortune as you.
"...beginning to cherish anything good in your life, the warmth of a shower if, you like to take showers.... or you might have a lot of worries on your plate, but there's still some sweetness in every day of everybody's lives-- some kindness that is extended to you; some kindness that ,you extend to other people. Arousing Bodhichitta has the feeling of wishing that good fortune to be shared by other people. And sometimes the most powerful way to do that is to think of particular people that you know who are particularly messed up--or suffering extremely--and you wish for those people to have some of this good fortune that you have. Even these moments or seconds of good fortune, you wish for these other people to have it.
...Arousing Bodhichitta at the beginning of a teaching is making the aspiration that anything that you learn... any lightness of your load, or more "cheered-upness" or sense of inspiration, that you want to share it. You want to share it with the people who need it--who don't have the good fortune that you have. So that's the notion of Arousing the Bodhichitta; it's like a longing to want to share the wealth with other people, so he more you understand what the word "open-heartedness" means, then the more you want to share that understanding--not just the understanding, but the experience, you want other people to have that experience. Or the more you have the experience of an unprejudiced moment, you know, where you are engaged with someone, and you can drop your biases and just listen openly to them--the more you have an experience like that of open-mindedness the more you know the value of it.
and then Bodhisattva what is to want other people who don't have that, to have it.
"...this is the idea... rousing your longing to share with other people any kind of wakefulness; any kind of openness, actually an kind of inspiration, or tenderness of your whole life--wishing for it to spread out and benefit other people.
"So, that's a very very simplistic, non-intellectual description."
"...It's very traditional at the beginning of teachings--especially for Tibetan Buddhist teachers to encourage their students to "Rouse Bodhichitta" SO I'd like to say a little bit about what that means....
"... it's main topic, actually, is how to work with you own mind, and live your life in a way that you develop and begin to open, so that you can be of true benefit to other people. it's how to live in such a way that with your actions and your words, you can help others. And just by the model of your life, that you could inspire other people. How to wake up yourself, so that you could support other people in finding their own ability to wake up from any kind of ignorance, from any kind of hard-heartedness, from any kind of self-absorption--to help people do that.
"And so it's said that, when you "wake up" like that, the path of the Bodhisattva is very connected with this subject of Bodhichitta.
"Simply put... it's said, traditionally, that virtuous actions have virtuous results. And one kind of traditional or classic, virtuous action is to "listen to the Dharma"--listen to teachings that resonate with a deeper part of you, that somehow inspire you out of, maybe some kind of narrow, small perspective, and resonate with a part of you that can stay open. resonate with your open mind--unbiased, unprejudiced mind-- and resonate with your open heart.
So, when we say "Rouse Bodhichitta"... virtuous actions such as listening to the Dharma have virtuous results such as less emotional upheaval, results such as being able to keep your heart open in increasingly difficult situations. It's said that when we act in an open-hearted way--what's called traditionally "virtuously"-- then the result of that is that we ourselves are becoming more compassionate; more sane; have a better sense of humor; are more flexible, these kind of things.
"...this really means that you have the longing to be able to share with other people, your good fortune. That rather than--- you know, when things lighten up for us, either outer conditions or emotional stuff, you know, we want to horde it for ourselves and we might begin to get very stingy about--not feeling all that generous. Arousing Bodhichitta is a sense of immense generosity where you actually wish for other people to have the same good fortune as you.
"...beginning to cherish anything good in your life, the warmth of a shower if, you like to take showers.... or you might have a lot of worries on your plate, but there's still some sweetness in every day of everybody's lives-- some kindness that is extended to you; some kindness that ,you extend to other people. Arousing Bodhichitta has the feeling of wishing that good fortune to be shared by other people. And sometimes the most powerful way to do that is to think of particular people that you know who are particularly messed up--or suffering extremely--and you wish for those people to have some of this good fortune that you have. Even these moments or seconds of good fortune, you wish for these other people to have it.
...Arousing Bodhichitta at the beginning of a teaching is making the aspiration that anything that you learn... any lightness of your load, or more "cheered-upness" or sense of inspiration, that you want to share it. You want to share it with the people who need it--who don't have the good fortune that you have. So that's the notion of Arousing the Bodhichitta; it's like a longing to want to share the wealth with other people, so he more you understand what the word "open-heartedness" means, then the more you want to share that understanding--not just the understanding, but the experience, you want other people to have that experience. Or the more you have the experience of an unprejudiced moment, you know, where you are engaged with someone, and you can drop your biases and just listen openly to them--the more you have an experience like that of open-mindedness the more you know the value of it.
and then Bodhisattva what is to want other people who don't have that, to have it.
"...this is the idea... rousing your longing to share with other people any kind of wakefulness; any kind of openness, actually an kind of inspiration, or tenderness of your whole life--wishing for it to spread out and benefit other people.
"So, that's a very very simplistic, non-intellectual description."
Monday, January 26, 2009
Work, Work, Work...
So... there's some real characters here at work.
I think I'm going to enjoy working with them.
I started this post about two and a half weeks ago, focusing on the more quirky characters in my class. But, in the time since, I have actually become better friends with them than the "normal" ones!
originally, I had given them alias' such as "the whistler(not of Jethro Tull notoriety)", Lonelyboy15, The Surfer Duuude, Prude-y McGee, etc. But upon review of this post I realized suddenly that I'm a jerk. These kids are cool! They have some of the most interesting personalities I've ever come across.
I had this crazy, eye-opening experience that is still working throughout various facets of my life. I can't hardly explain it, except to say that I went from seeing people as obstacles and distractions, to seeing them as mirrors of myself. Weird? yeah... and maybe I just can't articulate what i mean... I've stopped seeing people, and started seeing individuals.everyone has their own unique, endearing qualities and quirks, and it's great to just observe and appreciate them, rather than scrutinize and critique and assign them a value based on how like you, or your ideal they are.
let me tell you about my boss. He's a mix between Jerry Garcia, Yoda and Mr. Miagi.
I say that with all respect. he is one of the nicest guys I've ever met, and things that I might have judged him for before don't really matter when I consider how really concerned and honest he is, and how it was never my place to judge him critically in the first place. Its great!
I feel kinda selfish, because I get excited to get to know people because I so enjoy the experience now that I have my "blinders" off. I guess because it seems like I still see people as a means to my own ends. but in all honesty, I'm in a far better place than I was before.
Now I need to work on being a good conversationalist. I've realized that as much as I enjoy people now, I've got a bad habit of focusing on myself. Inadvertently I always steer the conversation to where I want, and end up talking as much about myself as anything. Not because they don't interest me, but because I seem in the habit of talking about what I know, and I don't know how to focus conversations on others very well. :(
Thanks for reading!
100th post! woot!
I think I'm going to enjoy working with them.
I started this post about two and a half weeks ago, focusing on the more quirky characters in my class. But, in the time since, I have actually become better friends with them than the "normal" ones!
originally, I had given them alias' such as "the whistler(not of Jethro Tull notoriety)", Lonelyboy15, The Surfer Duuude, Prude-y McGee, etc. But upon review of this post I realized suddenly that I'm a jerk. These kids are cool! They have some of the most interesting personalities I've ever come across.
I had this crazy, eye-opening experience that is still working throughout various facets of my life. I can't hardly explain it, except to say that I went from seeing people as obstacles and distractions, to seeing them as mirrors of myself. Weird? yeah... and maybe I just can't articulate what i mean... I've stopped seeing people, and started seeing individuals.everyone has their own unique, endearing qualities and quirks, and it's great to just observe and appreciate them, rather than scrutinize and critique and assign them a value based on how like you, or your ideal they are.
let me tell you about my boss. He's a mix between Jerry Garcia, Yoda and Mr. Miagi.
I say that with all respect. he is one of the nicest guys I've ever met, and things that I might have judged him for before don't really matter when I consider how really concerned and honest he is, and how it was never my place to judge him critically in the first place. Its great!
I feel kinda selfish, because I get excited to get to know people because I so enjoy the experience now that I have my "blinders" off. I guess because it seems like I still see people as a means to my own ends. but in all honesty, I'm in a far better place than I was before.
Now I need to work on being a good conversationalist. I've realized that as much as I enjoy people now, I've got a bad habit of focusing on myself. Inadvertently I always steer the conversation to where I want, and end up talking as much about myself as anything. Not because they don't interest me, but because I seem in the habit of talking about what I know, and I don't know how to focus conversations on others very well. :(
Thanks for reading!
100th post! woot!
Friday, January 16, 2009
I go it alone
Good Evening, Dear Reader!
Can I tell you how amazing my life has been as of late?
Pretty darn.
I've got this strange feeling of being outside myself most of the time. a month ago I couldn't see past the end of my nose, I don't know if I even opened my eyes. I was pretty much absorbed with myself, my thoughts. I was quiet, but inside my head was an ongoing, cynical commentary of the world as I saw it. Pretty much like living with blinders on, and just watching re-runs on TV. I had total tunnel vision. I saw people on a 2-dimensional plane, in black and white. And my constant thoughts were "this is what you call living?".
How obtuse! thank you to everyone who has contributed to my snapping out of that. I can now see around me. The first things I noticed were my hands. Clutching my existence, my remote control whereby I controlled what was channeled into my world. I'd like to say that I dropped that remote and started DOING, but it seems as if my hand has been molded to the shape of it. Interestingly enough, that means my hand has to learn to stop pointing a finger.
So, while I am adjusting to my new perspective, I've found another purpose for my pointer finger. I'm using it to turn pages. Lots of pages. I've finished 2 books I had started in the middle of last year, and begun and finished 3 books in the past week. Good books. Amazing books. The kind you can't put down. Never mind the titles. It's the words in them. I feel like I've deloused myself in reading them. I still have some itching that I think will go with the right salve, but the parasite is gone.
I can't explain this change. It's illogical even to me. I can say that my paradigm shift was not (at first) actively sought. At least, the one I got was not the one I was expecting.
I see people! real, living, breathing, loving, feeling genuine people! An incredible experience. I can't help but smile. Where as before I was so absorbed in myself that I only took notice of those in my path, not the one's with their arms outstretched (in welcoming, or in need) just the ones that posed an obstacle for me. I, who claimed to be someone capable of deep love and affection, altruism and concern for others.
I would say that I was conscious of the facade on some level. But even being honest with myself, I didn't know another way to see people. I could love, but it was selfish love. My "altruism" was really only dedication to those who could protect me. My concern for others was from a position of seeing them as weak, helpless and hopeless. Any my "reaching out" was selfish. it wasn't an open, caring hand with which I reached out; it was a foot, sheathed in a hiking boot, and I intended to use their shoulders as a leg up in my plight to climb my mountainous Ego, but I would coo assurances that I would come back for them. If not totally concerned with myself, my "reaching out" was self-righteous. I was, after all, being benevolent--something one can only HOPE for the mettle to do. I was just trying to validate myself.
Not to be down on myself, I suppose I could say that I made this change because I truly wanted to. But I do feel that it was in spite of myself. I'm glad I was able to be open to it, but other than that, I don't know if I can say that I can take any credit for how incredibly great I feel.
Thanks for reading, and for sharing joy with me.
--Evan
Can I tell you how amazing my life has been as of late?
Pretty darn.
I've got this strange feeling of being outside myself most of the time. a month ago I couldn't see past the end of my nose, I don't know if I even opened my eyes. I was pretty much absorbed with myself, my thoughts. I was quiet, but inside my head was an ongoing, cynical commentary of the world as I saw it. Pretty much like living with blinders on, and just watching re-runs on TV. I had total tunnel vision. I saw people on a 2-dimensional plane, in black and white. And my constant thoughts were "this is what you call living?".
How obtuse! thank you to everyone who has contributed to my snapping out of that. I can now see around me. The first things I noticed were my hands. Clutching my existence, my remote control whereby I controlled what was channeled into my world. I'd like to say that I dropped that remote and started DOING, but it seems as if my hand has been molded to the shape of it. Interestingly enough, that means my hand has to learn to stop pointing a finger.
So, while I am adjusting to my new perspective, I've found another purpose for my pointer finger. I'm using it to turn pages. Lots of pages. I've finished 2 books I had started in the middle of last year, and begun and finished 3 books in the past week. Good books. Amazing books. The kind you can't put down. Never mind the titles. It's the words in them. I feel like I've deloused myself in reading them. I still have some itching that I think will go with the right salve, but the parasite is gone.
I can't explain this change. It's illogical even to me. I can say that my paradigm shift was not (at first) actively sought. At least, the one I got was not the one I was expecting.
I see people! real, living, breathing, loving, feeling genuine people! An incredible experience. I can't help but smile. Where as before I was so absorbed in myself that I only took notice of those in my path, not the one's with their arms outstretched (in welcoming, or in need) just the ones that posed an obstacle for me. I, who claimed to be someone capable of deep love and affection, altruism and concern for others.
I would say that I was conscious of the facade on some level. But even being honest with myself, I didn't know another way to see people. I could love, but it was selfish love. My "altruism" was really only dedication to those who could protect me. My concern for others was from a position of seeing them as weak, helpless and hopeless. Any my "reaching out" was selfish. it wasn't an open, caring hand with which I reached out; it was a foot, sheathed in a hiking boot, and I intended to use their shoulders as a leg up in my plight to climb my mountainous Ego, but I would coo assurances that I would come back for them. If not totally concerned with myself, my "reaching out" was self-righteous. I was, after all, being benevolent--something one can only HOPE for the mettle to do. I was just trying to validate myself.
Not to be down on myself, I suppose I could say that I made this change because I truly wanted to. But I do feel that it was in spite of myself. I'm glad I was able to be open to it, but other than that, I don't know if I can say that I can take any credit for how incredibly great I feel.
Thanks for reading, and for sharing joy with me.
--Evan
Monday, January 12, 2009
two things....
First of all,I feel dumb a lot. But I also feel smart most of the time. You know when I feel the dumbest? When I've taken for granted that I'm smart.
A close second is mathematics. So I'll use it analogously.
If I were to learn an algebraic formula, and apply it to some problem, and I am unable to solve that problem with my formula, I'm the type of person who would immediately decide that the problem is unsolvable. Either with the tools/formulas I have been given or simply because the problem is "stupid". I look outside myself for the answer and assume that it is something I haven't learned yet.
Then I figure out (more often, someone shows me) that I haven't done the right steps, or used the right integers. Then I feel sooo stupid.
Because up to the point that I realize my mistake I am saying in my head "this equals that blah blah blah. DUH! and this equals this = DUH!" and when someone tries to teach me how to solve the problem I am thinking "don't patronize me, don't talk slowly to me like I'm an idiot. Don't you think I know how to do that? Don't you think I DID that already?"
What's even more embarrassing is that I sometimes do this for a very long period of time before I even consider the possibility that it is an error on my part. I think "I've done this a million times, I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing, thank you very much." and then I say "...oh. Dang. I've been doing this wrong the whole time. I learned it wrong!" How stupid I feel. Anyway, this analogy sucks, because I don't think there is ANY mathematical function I have done a million times, and I am not even remotely familiar enough with any formulas that I could take for granted that I know them through and through. But I figure the rest of the world can relate on that level--automatically assuming that they are right, or know something to be fact, but find out that they never really listened in the first place.
Point is, I'm trying to stop taking for granted that I know something simply because I've heard it a thousand times before, and I'm willing to go back to the stone age and count rocks and twigs, if that's what it takes to learn the underlying truths I have proclaimed to be knowledgeable about up to now.
I took to much time talking about point #1 and forgot what point number 2 was supposed to be about. Standby, maybe it will come to me.
nope.
Till next time!
Okay, I just remembered, but it gets its own post.
A close second is mathematics. So I'll use it analogously.
If I were to learn an algebraic formula, and apply it to some problem, and I am unable to solve that problem with my formula, I'm the type of person who would immediately decide that the problem is unsolvable. Either with the tools/formulas I have been given or simply because the problem is "stupid". I look outside myself for the answer and assume that it is something I haven't learned yet.
Then I figure out (more often, someone shows me) that I haven't done the right steps, or used the right integers. Then I feel sooo stupid.
Because up to the point that I realize my mistake I am saying in my head "this equals that blah blah blah. DUH! and this equals this = DUH!" and when someone tries to teach me how to solve the problem I am thinking "don't patronize me, don't talk slowly to me like I'm an idiot. Don't you think I know how to do that? Don't you think I DID that already?"
What's even more embarrassing is that I sometimes do this for a very long period of time before I even consider the possibility that it is an error on my part. I think "I've done this a million times, I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing, thank you very much." and then I say "...oh. Dang. I've been doing this wrong the whole time. I learned it wrong!" How stupid I feel. Anyway, this analogy sucks, because I don't think there is ANY mathematical function I have done a million times, and I am not even remotely familiar enough with any formulas that I could take for granted that I know them through and through. But I figure the rest of the world can relate on that level--automatically assuming that they are right, or know something to be fact, but find out that they never really listened in the first place.
Point is, I'm trying to stop taking for granted that I know something simply because I've heard it a thousand times before, and I'm willing to go back to the stone age and count rocks and twigs, if that's what it takes to learn the underlying truths I have proclaimed to be knowledgeable about up to now.
I took to much time talking about point #1 and forgot what point number 2 was supposed to be about. Standby, maybe it will come to me.
nope.
Till next time!
Okay, I just remembered, but it gets its own post.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Gristle
The blow left him sprawled out on the kitchen floor. He was at the mercy of his attacker, who now swung his heavy boot into his face. At the same time the man threw the earthenware plate at his head. It struck him with a *thud* on his crown, then broke in two as it hit the floor.
As he stumbled out the screen door and collapsed on the steps, breathing laboriously, a steady flow of blood from his head wound blinded his right eye.
"Speak!" the attacker demanded. But still he lay silent, unmoving. A kick to his ribcage sent him tumbling down the remaining steps, and sharp pains through his body.
He began to crawl, there was a space under the wooden staircase where he could seek refuge. But his attacker was not finished, with a single bound the man arrived by his side and grabbed his sweaty collar with a massive hand and drug him on his back toward the shed.
He was unable to breathe. He tried to roll over and gain his feet, but the gravel was loose and offered little traction. The rocks were bruising his back. His vision was blurred and dimming as he began to lose consciousness. But suddenly his head fell to the ground. He now lay along side a pile of old tires to the left of the shed door. The man disappeared into the shed, but emerged almost as suddenly, wielding an axe.
A swing like a golf club took a divot out of his back. He was almost past feeling.
Now the man stepped on his throat, raising the axe high above his head, the man spoke one last time.
"That'll be the last time you steal my pork chops, you worthless mutt."
As he stumbled out the screen door and collapsed on the steps, breathing laboriously, a steady flow of blood from his head wound blinded his right eye.
"Speak!" the attacker demanded. But still he lay silent, unmoving. A kick to his ribcage sent him tumbling down the remaining steps, and sharp pains through his body.
He began to crawl, there was a space under the wooden staircase where he could seek refuge. But his attacker was not finished, with a single bound the man arrived by his side and grabbed his sweaty collar with a massive hand and drug him on his back toward the shed.
He was unable to breathe. He tried to roll over and gain his feet, but the gravel was loose and offered little traction. The rocks were bruising his back. His vision was blurred and dimming as he began to lose consciousness. But suddenly his head fell to the ground. He now lay along side a pile of old tires to the left of the shed door. The man disappeared into the shed, but emerged almost as suddenly, wielding an axe.
A swing like a golf club took a divot out of his back. He was almost past feeling.
Now the man stepped on his throat, raising the axe high above his head, the man spoke one last time.
"That'll be the last time you steal my pork chops, you worthless mutt."
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
New Year, Old Memories...
Every year when the big ball drops, it's simply a big reminder of how I've dropped the ball. "Resolutions" that were never resolved; made with little or no plans for their execution, just prompted by a thought of "wouldn't it be nice...".
This year especially. This year when the ball drops, I'm going to remember what a child I am. I'll remember how I let my thoughts get the best of me, and deprive me of the best experiences with the most beautiful person I ever met. I'll remember her laugh, her eyes... I'll remember the adorable and distinct little sounds she made when she sighed, or cleared her throat. I'll remember all the Little Things. Strangely enough, the Big Things are byproducts of the Little Things. Just like that saying, "It's the thought that counts". Those big actions, or inactions of mine; the statements and omissions, were all because I thought I knew. I listened to those little thoughts that creep in and say 'don't worry about it...' or 'why tell her? she knows you care...'. And then those big thoughts, the kind that almost deafen you, that say 'You look like a fool!'. or 'You know, it's a matter of time before she gets sick of you.' Despite all of these thoughts, I told her I loved her, I asked her to marry me, I carried her over the threshold into our new home. We got comfortable, but those thoughts were still there. And the one that echos in my head to this day, 'one day she'll be gone, and you'll never see it coming.'
Gone she is. And I never saw it coming. It was New Year's Eve, she was going to kiss me at midnight. She had been staying with her widowed mother in Kansas City since Christmas, I had left her there the day after Christmas for a business meeting in Fort Worth. But we were both going to be back in San Diego for New Years. We were going to meet on the pier and take a ride on the ferry to watch the fireworks. I waited for her on the dock. She was going to catch a cab from the airport. I waited. The ferry left, I waited. The fireworks spewed from centennial park while I was calling her again. She didn't answer her phone.
Then I got the call--a total stranger. She wasn't going to be coming home with me tonight.
When I got to the hospital she was on a respirator, wires plugged into her left and right, she was going to the OR. She couldn't speak. Her body was covered with a thousand lacerations, her hair was matted against her forehead with blood and sweat. As I ran along beside her stretcher I took her hand and spoke her name over and over. She squeezed my hand and a tear from her eye, washing a trail through the smudges of blood on her face. She moved her lips imperceptibly, spoke inaudibly behind the fogged mask of the respirator. I tried to hear what she was saying, but it was drowned out by the rattle of the casters of the stretcher and by the EMT's shouts.
A week before, she had cried in the doorway to her mother's guest bedroom as I repacked my suitcase for my flight to Texas the next day. "Please, stay with me?" she said. I could have... I could have canceled my meeting and no one could have faulted me for it. But I wanted to be professional, so I chose to be irritated by her plea instead of touched. That night, as we lay in bed. She asked me again "can't you stay?" and I sighed "Please don't do this. I'm tired, and I'm not in the mood." With that I rolled over and stole some more of the covers. The next morning she took me to the airport in her mom's Camry. As we reached the airport I had nearly gotten up the nerve to apologize to her. She got out at the drop-off to see me off. I gave her a hug and a short kiss. Instead of apologizing, I smiled, kissed her again and told her "I'll see you at home, okay?"
She died twenty minutes after the surgery started. She had been pried out of the cab with the Jaws of Life. The cab driver hadn't survived the collision and it was no wonder why. An intoxicated truck driver had run a red light as the cab was taking a left turn. The cab looked like a soda can that had been run over by a bicycle. What should have been 5 feet of back seat became a space barely wide enough for my wife to occupy, she was essentially pinned between the doors. She died of internal bleeding and brain trauma. The doctor told me she had been paralyzed completely. He couldn't explain how she had squeezed my hand.
In the days that followed I realized how very little I knew what I was doing--how young and inexperienced I really was. I had never lost anyone, and now I was burying my bride. The Funeral Director asked if I would like to play her favorite song during the service. I had him play "Everything I Own"-- we had played it in honor of her late father at our wedding nearly a year before.
Even after another two months had passed, I couldn't sleep in our bed. I couldn't sleep. I tossed fitfully on the couch. I wore the same clothes over and over to avoid opening our closet.
When finally I had the wherewithal to box her things, my months of mourning all came rushing back to suffocate me. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't swallow. I couldn't see.
As I packed her T-shirts I could still see her perfect neck and arms filling the holes. As I took her coats off the hangers I remembered how she would have me pick between two--if I was lucky, and usually went with the other anyway. Her underwear drawer was the last straw. She had saved all the little notes I had ever written her. They were abridged versions of what I really wanted to say. As I thought of how many times I had opted to leave a note, I realized how much I wasn't around. I had usually left for work while she was still asleep, or in the shower. All those notes were missed opportunities to kiss her goodbye. The lacy underwear that had once been such a turn on, now seemed so silly. And again, I wished that I had been focused on her eyes, her smile. These things had no sentimental value, they were simply evidence of yet more opportunities missed to really show her my love. Reminders that I was distracted from being the best husband I could be, because I was too busy taking in my perfect wife.
On the closet shelf above her coats, I found the photos from our wedding, and in them a mixed CD from the wedding reception. Full circle, I now listened to the words of the song we danced to on our wedding night; the one I played for her before she was laid to rest.
"Everything I Own" by Bread
You sheltered me from harm.
Kept me warm, kept me warm
You gave my life to me
Set me free, set me free
The finest years I ever knew
Were all the years I had with you
I would give anything I own,
Give up me life, my heart, my home.
I would give everything I own,
Just to have you back again.
You taught me how to love,
What its of, what its of.
You never said too much,
But still you showed the way,
And I knew from watching you.
Nobody else could ever know
The part of me that cant let go.
I would give anything I own,
Give up me life, my heart, my home.
I would give everything I own
Just to have you back again.
Is there someone you know,
You're loving them so,
But taking them all for granted.
You may lose them one day,
Someone takes them away,
And they don't hear the words you long to say
I would give anything I own,
Give up me life, my heart, my home.
I would give everything I own
Just to have you back again.
This year especially. This year when the ball drops, I'm going to remember what a child I am. I'll remember how I let my thoughts get the best of me, and deprive me of the best experiences with the most beautiful person I ever met. I'll remember her laugh, her eyes... I'll remember the adorable and distinct little sounds she made when she sighed, or cleared her throat. I'll remember all the Little Things. Strangely enough, the Big Things are byproducts of the Little Things. Just like that saying, "It's the thought that counts". Those big actions, or inactions of mine; the statements and omissions, were all because I thought I knew. I listened to those little thoughts that creep in and say 'don't worry about it...' or 'why tell her? she knows you care...'. And then those big thoughts, the kind that almost deafen you, that say 'You look like a fool!'. or 'You know, it's a matter of time before she gets sick of you.' Despite all of these thoughts, I told her I loved her, I asked her to marry me, I carried her over the threshold into our new home. We got comfortable, but those thoughts were still there. And the one that echos in my head to this day, 'one day she'll be gone, and you'll never see it coming.'
Gone she is. And I never saw it coming. It was New Year's Eve, she was going to kiss me at midnight. She had been staying with her widowed mother in Kansas City since Christmas, I had left her there the day after Christmas for a business meeting in Fort Worth. But we were both going to be back in San Diego for New Years. We were going to meet on the pier and take a ride on the ferry to watch the fireworks. I waited for her on the dock. She was going to catch a cab from the airport. I waited. The ferry left, I waited. The fireworks spewed from centennial park while I was calling her again. She didn't answer her phone.
Then I got the call--a total stranger. She wasn't going to be coming home with me tonight.
When I got to the hospital she was on a respirator, wires plugged into her left and right, she was going to the OR. She couldn't speak. Her body was covered with a thousand lacerations, her hair was matted against her forehead with blood and sweat. As I ran along beside her stretcher I took her hand and spoke her name over and over. She squeezed my hand and a tear from her eye, washing a trail through the smudges of blood on her face. She moved her lips imperceptibly, spoke inaudibly behind the fogged mask of the respirator. I tried to hear what she was saying, but it was drowned out by the rattle of the casters of the stretcher and by the EMT's shouts.
A week before, she had cried in the doorway to her mother's guest bedroom as I repacked my suitcase for my flight to Texas the next day. "Please, stay with me?" she said. I could have... I could have canceled my meeting and no one could have faulted me for it. But I wanted to be professional, so I chose to be irritated by her plea instead of touched. That night, as we lay in bed. She asked me again "can't you stay?" and I sighed "Please don't do this. I'm tired, and I'm not in the mood." With that I rolled over and stole some more of the covers. The next morning she took me to the airport in her mom's Camry. As we reached the airport I had nearly gotten up the nerve to apologize to her. She got out at the drop-off to see me off. I gave her a hug and a short kiss. Instead of apologizing, I smiled, kissed her again and told her "I'll see you at home, okay?"
She died twenty minutes after the surgery started. She had been pried out of the cab with the Jaws of Life. The cab driver hadn't survived the collision and it was no wonder why. An intoxicated truck driver had run a red light as the cab was taking a left turn. The cab looked like a soda can that had been run over by a bicycle. What should have been 5 feet of back seat became a space barely wide enough for my wife to occupy, she was essentially pinned between the doors. She died of internal bleeding and brain trauma. The doctor told me she had been paralyzed completely. He couldn't explain how she had squeezed my hand.
In the days that followed I realized how very little I knew what I was doing--how young and inexperienced I really was. I had never lost anyone, and now I was burying my bride. The Funeral Director asked if I would like to play her favorite song during the service. I had him play "Everything I Own"-- we had played it in honor of her late father at our wedding nearly a year before.
Even after another two months had passed, I couldn't sleep in our bed. I couldn't sleep. I tossed fitfully on the couch. I wore the same clothes over and over to avoid opening our closet.
When finally I had the wherewithal to box her things, my months of mourning all came rushing back to suffocate me. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't swallow. I couldn't see.
As I packed her T-shirts I could still see her perfect neck and arms filling the holes. As I took her coats off the hangers I remembered how she would have me pick between two--if I was lucky, and usually went with the other anyway. Her underwear drawer was the last straw. She had saved all the little notes I had ever written her. They were abridged versions of what I really wanted to say. As I thought of how many times I had opted to leave a note, I realized how much I wasn't around. I had usually left for work while she was still asleep, or in the shower. All those notes were missed opportunities to kiss her goodbye. The lacy underwear that had once been such a turn on, now seemed so silly. And again, I wished that I had been focused on her eyes, her smile. These things had no sentimental value, they were simply evidence of yet more opportunities missed to really show her my love. Reminders that I was distracted from being the best husband I could be, because I was too busy taking in my perfect wife.
On the closet shelf above her coats, I found the photos from our wedding, and in them a mixed CD from the wedding reception. Full circle, I now listened to the words of the song we danced to on our wedding night; the one I played for her before she was laid to rest.
"Everything I Own" by Bread
You sheltered me from harm.
Kept me warm, kept me warm
You gave my life to me
Set me free, set me free
The finest years I ever knew
Were all the years I had with you
I would give anything I own,
Give up me life, my heart, my home.
I would give everything I own,
Just to have you back again.
You taught me how to love,
What its of, what its of.
You never said too much,
But still you showed the way,
And I knew from watching you.
Nobody else could ever know
The part of me that cant let go.
I would give anything I own,
Give up me life, my heart, my home.
I would give everything I own
Just to have you back again.
Is there someone you know,
You're loving them so,
But taking them all for granted.
You may lose them one day,
Someone takes them away,
And they don't hear the words you long to say
I would give anything I own,
Give up me life, my heart, my home.
I would give everything I own
Just to have you back again.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Tuition
Please vote! help me win some tuition money. if you like it, please spread it around to your friends!
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Robe Day
for the past 4 weeks I haven't gotten dressed on Sunday. I have a blue terrycloth bathrobe that I wear all day. People seem to associate my bathrobe with morning attire, because even when I come into the room at 5 in the evening, they say "good morning!" maybe they just assume I've been in bed all day. Which isn't that far off from reality. Today I woke up at 11, stayed in bed in a comatose state till 2, came down stairs and ate lunch. returned to my bedroom to do some homework. I again slipped into coma, staring at the ceiling for an hour. I have been sitting with a take home final sitting in front of me and have yet to write a single answer.
what a day....
what a day....
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Insomnia, my muse... please save me from my scattered thoughts!
I have a thousand images in my head, and a dozen words with which to work.
There is a woman, or some part of her. Her mouth, and cheek. A profile of a perfect pair of lips. They are boldly bordered with natural pigment. Pale pink, permanently puckered, and plump as the juiciest of peaches. They enshroud bones, beautiful white and singularly aligned, which peak out from top and bottom. perched between them, her tongue. On the tip of her tongue are the words that, unspoken, cause the dimple in her cheek. She isn't speaking, not even at a whisper. She seems caught in contemplation, though her eyes I cannot see. A single curl of her long hair falls across her jaw as she tilts her head. She sighs softly, and pinches her lips closed. What would she have said? She breathes in through her nose, a flawless nose. the recess between cheek and nostril deepens with her smile, and her lower lip protrudes. Why this imagery? I'm going on hours of a tease that she will speak or laugh. just kiss me already.
Now, A sinister figure, far removed from the last, standing in a dim light.
The figure is everything that the teasing smile is not. The realism of the girl is contrasted by the fantastic nature of this beast. He wears a tall velvet hat, the brim catching the beams of the streetlamp above him. He is dressed in fine clothes, dark red and black. A silver cane in his gloved right hand, but he holds it like a baton, he is frozen in pose--midway through removing his left glove-- but his face is animated. He is grinning, and it is spreading, though almost imperceptibly. The light washes him in a filthy yellow light, and his teeth are glinting in it. His collar is high, and he wears a pure white cravat. Just the slightest hint of a reflection peers out from under his hat, a spark of energy in his eyes. The sound of water trickling in the abyssal drains beneath his feet echo like a prayer in ancient catacombs. His heel is clicking on the cobble stone street and the sound reverberates like thunder through the empty alleys. He wears a ruby ring on his exposed left hand.
Goodnight.
I have a thousand images in my head, and a dozen words with which to work.
There is a woman, or some part of her. Her mouth, and cheek. A profile of a perfect pair of lips. They are boldly bordered with natural pigment. Pale pink, permanently puckered, and plump as the juiciest of peaches. They enshroud bones, beautiful white and singularly aligned, which peak out from top and bottom. perched between them, her tongue. On the tip of her tongue are the words that, unspoken, cause the dimple in her cheek. She isn't speaking, not even at a whisper. She seems caught in contemplation, though her eyes I cannot see. A single curl of her long hair falls across her jaw as she tilts her head. She sighs softly, and pinches her lips closed. What would she have said? She breathes in through her nose, a flawless nose. the recess between cheek and nostril deepens with her smile, and her lower lip protrudes. Why this imagery? I'm going on hours of a tease that she will speak or laugh. just kiss me already.
Now, A sinister figure, far removed from the last, standing in a dim light.
The figure is everything that the teasing smile is not. The realism of the girl is contrasted by the fantastic nature of this beast. He wears a tall velvet hat, the brim catching the beams of the streetlamp above him. He is dressed in fine clothes, dark red and black. A silver cane in his gloved right hand, but he holds it like a baton, he is frozen in pose--midway through removing his left glove-- but his face is animated. He is grinning, and it is spreading, though almost imperceptibly. The light washes him in a filthy yellow light, and his teeth are glinting in it. His collar is high, and he wears a pure white cravat. Just the slightest hint of a reflection peers out from under his hat, a spark of energy in his eyes. The sound of water trickling in the abyssal drains beneath his feet echo like a prayer in ancient catacombs. His heel is clicking on the cobble stone street and the sound reverberates like thunder through the empty alleys. He wears a ruby ring on his exposed left hand.
Goodnight.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
12th night.
I hate watching people watch Shakespeare... I don't esteem myself some sort of pro on the subject. .. but i feel like most of the wit is lost on a high percentage of the audience. I'm sitting through intermission right now, listening to the couple in front of me make sense of what they have seen so far. The girlfriend knows the story pretty well... the boyfriend is apparently totally lost "what was that letter that the guy found?" and "is she supposed to be a guy?" she did a good job of explaining who was attracted to who as who... but I think he's checked out.
Should I feel awkward that I, and a couple of others are the only ones laughing at the majority of the wit and puns in this play?
I wonder to what extent the exaggeration of stage acting has been affected by the illiteracy of audiences these days... it seems like lots of these lines require hand gestures in order to convey their meaning... otherwise people just sit, eyes glazed until the characters do something nodding to slapstick... fie on't.
Should I feel awkward that I, and a couple of others are the only ones laughing at the majority of the wit and puns in this play?
I wonder to what extent the exaggeration of stage acting has been affected by the illiteracy of audiences these days... it seems like lots of these lines require hand gestures in order to convey their meaning... otherwise people just sit, eyes glazed until the characters do something nodding to slapstick... fie on't.
Monday, November 24, 2008
being wrong....
So, I'm sitting it my Biology class. and in the row in front of me, two seats to the left, there is a kid who CAN'T be wrong. he's got a bitchy little sidekick, too.
Professor asked what criteria we use to define something as a species, a few suggestions were called out and he wrote them down indiscriminately, whether they were viable or not. and told us as he wrote them whether or not the suggestions were right.
right in the middle, the discussion was derailed by a kid who just refused to accept that his suggestion was wrong. I don't get it. I'm here to learn, not to refute what my teacher is telling me. When he says that scientists don't use habitat to define species, I'm going to take his word for it.
Maybe it's how he learns... it's kinda scientific--pursuing a hypothesis until it is proven or disproved. But for me that happened right when he said "you could potentially use that, but we don't because it is too complicated"
there was an awkward silence, cut only by the bumbling, fractured thoughts of this kid. He chimes in at least once per class, and usually his comment or question contributes something to the discussion. He's probably very interested in biology. Maybe I just can't relate on this topic. But he definitely feels a need to "save face" when he's wrong. And his girlfriend feels a need to defend him as well.
"you could take that information and make a best assumption but--"
"well that's all science is anyway!"
eh...okay.
Addendum:
Teacher: "population growth ratio is affected by A, B, C and D--"
Mr N'erwrong: "Doesn't B depend on... E?"
Teacher: how so?
Mr N'erwrong: sea turtles!
Teacher: that's one reproductive stategy... but we don't measure growth ratio by "E". (blah blah blah)... does that answer your question?
Mr N'erwrong:No....
Professor asked what criteria we use to define something as a species, a few suggestions were called out and he wrote them down indiscriminately, whether they were viable or not. and told us as he wrote them whether or not the suggestions were right.
right in the middle, the discussion was derailed by a kid who just refused to accept that his suggestion was wrong. I don't get it. I'm here to learn, not to refute what my teacher is telling me. When he says that scientists don't use habitat to define species, I'm going to take his word for it.
Maybe it's how he learns... it's kinda scientific--pursuing a hypothesis until it is proven or disproved. But for me that happened right when he said "you could potentially use that, but we don't because it is too complicated"
there was an awkward silence, cut only by the bumbling, fractured thoughts of this kid. He chimes in at least once per class, and usually his comment or question contributes something to the discussion. He's probably very interested in biology. Maybe I just can't relate on this topic. But he definitely feels a need to "save face" when he's wrong. And his girlfriend feels a need to defend him as well.
"you could take that information and make a best assumption but--"
"well that's all science is anyway!"
eh...okay.
Addendum:
Teacher: "population growth ratio is affected by A, B, C and D--"
Mr N'erwrong: "Doesn't B depend on... E?"
Teacher: how so?
Mr N'erwrong: sea turtles!
Teacher: that's one reproductive stategy... but we don't measure growth ratio by "E". (blah blah blah)... does that answer your question?
Mr N'erwrong:No....
Friday, November 21, 2008
Dream
Last night, I dreamed a crazy dream.
First of all, I was living with my brother and sister and some people I didn't know. We got a visit from President-Elect Obama. Did I happen to mention we were living in the White House? Yeah, for some reason I was living in the white house, and Barack and Co. were moving in. There was a REALLY ugly dog running around that Obama had evidently accidentally bought for his daughters. He bought a new dog that was much less yappy, and didn't shed hair all over.. the other dog kinda faded out from existence. Everything was going well, in fact I shot the breeze with Mr. Obama (who always descended stairs in bounds of about half a flight at a time). All of the sudden, the white house was stormed by FBI agents who started accusing us (me and my family) of murder. Evidently, for the past week, our grandmother had been missing, She went missing on the evening of Thanksgiving. We didn't know whodunit! The FBI agents left the house and stood on the lawn, and told us we had 2 hours to get all of our "dirt" out of the house. I happened to have a secret compartment in my closet where I kept *gasp* guns. My post WWII rifle and two pistols.
I thought for sure that I was going to be pegged with murder because I owned guns in a now anti-gun administration.
I brought out the guns and they just took them and asked if there was anything else. I went back in to do another sweep of the place. I decided to check my brother's room, too. While I was shuffling around in a pile of clothes I noticed an old, decrepit foot sticking out from under his bed!
HOLY CRAP! Austin killed grandma and hid her IN THE HOUSE?! I decided to make sure it was grandma, I pulled up the covers and looked under the bed... sure enough.
Just then an FBI agent came into the room and I pointed. He looked under the bed and said "HEY!" to the corpse, who awoke with a start and said "wha...?"
Evidently she had had a VERY healthy Thanksgiving dinner about a week before. She had also lost her ability to reason and thought she would take a nap (probably due to the Turkey) she climbed under a bed where she slept for a week straight. We decided this was probably because it was so dark under the bed that she never had any stimuli to awaken her. So... grandma wasn't murdered. My secret hiding spot never got found (something I had to weight my options against, when trying to decide if I should turn over my guns or not, the consequences would have been bad if they had found them hidden than if i turned them over of my own free will). And I got my guns back!
/dream
First of all, I was living with my brother and sister and some people I didn't know. We got a visit from President-Elect Obama. Did I happen to mention we were living in the White House? Yeah, for some reason I was living in the white house, and Barack and Co. were moving in. There was a REALLY ugly dog running around that Obama had evidently accidentally bought for his daughters. He bought a new dog that was much less yappy, and didn't shed hair all over.. the other dog kinda faded out from existence. Everything was going well, in fact I shot the breeze with Mr. Obama (who always descended stairs in bounds of about half a flight at a time). All of the sudden, the white house was stormed by FBI agents who started accusing us (me and my family) of murder. Evidently, for the past week, our grandmother had been missing, She went missing on the evening of Thanksgiving. We didn't know whodunit! The FBI agents left the house and stood on the lawn, and told us we had 2 hours to get all of our "dirt" out of the house. I happened to have a secret compartment in my closet where I kept *gasp* guns. My post WWII rifle and two pistols.
I thought for sure that I was going to be pegged with murder because I owned guns in a now anti-gun administration.
I brought out the guns and they just took them and asked if there was anything else. I went back in to do another sweep of the place. I decided to check my brother's room, too. While I was shuffling around in a pile of clothes I noticed an old, decrepit foot sticking out from under his bed!
HOLY CRAP! Austin killed grandma and hid her IN THE HOUSE?! I decided to make sure it was grandma, I pulled up the covers and looked under the bed... sure enough.
Just then an FBI agent came into the room and I pointed. He looked under the bed and said "HEY!" to the corpse, who awoke with a start and said "wha...?"
Evidently she had had a VERY healthy Thanksgiving dinner about a week before. She had also lost her ability to reason and thought she would take a nap (probably due to the Turkey) she climbed under a bed where she slept for a week straight. We decided this was probably because it was so dark under the bed that she never had any stimuli to awaken her. So... grandma wasn't murdered. My secret hiding spot never got found (something I had to weight my options against, when trying to decide if I should turn over my guns or not, the consequences would have been bad if they had found them hidden than if i turned them over of my own free will). And I got my guns back!
/dream
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Need money.
I may not be able to go to school next semester on account of I don't have the money. But I'm finding people who want to give it to me for doing things like submitting my "best facial feature". Mine is my beard. A vote for my beard is a vote for my education!
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Kinda over it...
I was going to blog about how I'm kinda over witty banter... but I'm kinda over it.
I love witty banter, but it has it's time and place. Relay/delay banter, as with wall posts or forum comments are NOT the place. Real time-in person, is really-the only good time for it.
I love witty banter, but it has it's time and place. Relay/delay banter, as with wall posts or forum comments are NOT the place. Real time-in person, is really-the only good time for it.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
I'm not racist, but....
I find that when people begin with that line, the next thing they say is almost DEFINITELY going to be a racist comment.
I say "almost definitely" because this post is the exception. I just put that title to get your attention.
I think everyone is aware (maybe on a subconscious level) that that particular disclaimer is a false representation of the ensuing commentary. That's why I suspect, instead of shrugging off the comment as an untruth, people perk up to listen intently to whatever this "not racist" has to say. Because they know it's going to be racist. and their minds start prepping to attack or retort. Sorry to let you down.
Anyway.... how about them ethnic people?
Okay, here's what's on my mind.
Do people SERIOUSLY not wash their hands after using the bathroom?! are you kidding me? I thought people became conscious of this in jr. high...
about 4 years ago, I was at this kids house and he said something about it being stupid to wash hands after using the bathroom. "I don't wash my hands every time I touch my elbow..." was his arguement "how is it any different€?" I wasn't aware that his elbow was an outlet for human waste...
So today, I'm using the bathroom and there's a guy standing at the urinal, it's a small bathroom with two urinals and a stall, so for certain reasons I decided the stall(I was going to make a little joke there... but it wouldn't be appropriate and it would betray my secret identity).
When I exited the stall there wasn't a soul in sight. The kid hadn't flushed, and he hadn't washed his hands (I'm trusting my ears). what tha heck? are you serious? the kid's in college... wow.
So I'm racist against people who don't wash their hands after the bathroom.
got 8 minutes? you should listen to this conversation with a telemarketer from youtube.
and finally, I'm planning on entering the Insomnia Film Festival. You get 24 hours to write, shoot, edit and submit a 3-minute video with certain assigned elements. The kid heading it up approached me about it last night.
The start date is November 15 at 9AM, and thhe due date is November 16 at 9:00AM. I'm going to be the cinematographer.
anyway, this is where YOU (yes, you) come in. On November 21 Voting begins. I will be posting this video on every outlet I can, and definitely I'll have a link posted here. I need as many people as I can to watch and rate our video, if we get in the top 25 we get screened by several big wigs in the industry. If we take first, we each get a macbook and software package, and fame. If you have any suggestions on where to post my video or links to it, please let me know. And please help me spread the word and get as many votes as possible between November 21st and the 7th of December. I'm sure we'll make a full account of the project soon after it's completion. I will probably make a post announcing the prop requirements and locations we need/want as soon as we get the assignment and I would appreciate any help you can give. you have a couple of weeks to prepare yourself to help me out in a big way. please don't forget!
Evn
I say "almost definitely" because this post is the exception. I just put that title to get your attention.
I think everyone is aware (maybe on a subconscious level) that that particular disclaimer is a false representation of the ensuing commentary. That's why I suspect, instead of shrugging off the comment as an untruth, people perk up to listen intently to whatever this "not racist" has to say. Because they know it's going to be racist. and their minds start prepping to attack or retort. Sorry to let you down.
Anyway.... how about them ethnic people?
Okay, here's what's on my mind.
Do people SERIOUSLY not wash their hands after using the bathroom?! are you kidding me? I thought people became conscious of this in jr. high...
about 4 years ago, I was at this kids house and he said something about it being stupid to wash hands after using the bathroom. "I don't wash my hands every time I touch my elbow..." was his arguement "how is it any different€?" I wasn't aware that his elbow was an outlet for human waste...
So today, I'm using the bathroom and there's a guy standing at the urinal, it's a small bathroom with two urinals and a stall, so for certain reasons I decided the stall(I was going to make a little joke there... but it wouldn't be appropriate and it would betray my secret identity).
When I exited the stall there wasn't a soul in sight. The kid hadn't flushed, and he hadn't washed his hands (I'm trusting my ears). what tha heck? are you serious? the kid's in college... wow.
So I'm racist against people who don't wash their hands after the bathroom.
got 8 minutes? you should listen to this conversation with a telemarketer from youtube.
and finally, I'm planning on entering the Insomnia Film Festival. You get 24 hours to write, shoot, edit and submit a 3-minute video with certain assigned elements. The kid heading it up approached me about it last night.
The start date is November 15 at 9AM, and thhe due date is November 16 at 9:00AM. I'm going to be the cinematographer.
anyway, this is where YOU (yes, you) come in. On November 21 Voting begins. I will be posting this video on every outlet I can, and definitely I'll have a link posted here. I need as many people as I can to watch and rate our video, if we get in the top 25 we get screened by several big wigs in the industry. If we take first, we each get a macbook and software package, and fame. If you have any suggestions on where to post my video or links to it, please let me know. And please help me spread the word and get as many votes as possible between November 21st and the 7th of December. I'm sure we'll make a full account of the project soon after it's completion. I will probably make a post announcing the prop requirements and locations we need/want as soon as we get the assignment and I would appreciate any help you can give. you have a couple of weeks to prepare yourself to help me out in a big way. please don't forget!
Evn
Thursday, October 23, 2008
1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Alaska
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Been to Disneyland
7. Climbed a mountain
8. Held a praying mantis
10. Bungee jumped
11. Watched a lightning storm
12. Taught yourself an art from scratch
13. Adopted a child
14. Had food poisoning
15. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
16. Slept on an overnight train
15. Had a pillow fight
18. Hitch hiked
19. Built a snow fort
20. Run a Marathon
21. Watched a sunrise or a sunset
22. Hit a home run
23. Been on a cruise
24. Seen Niagara Falls in person
25. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
26. Seen an Amish community
27. Taught yourself a new language
28. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
29. Gone rock climbing
30. Seen Michelangelo’s David
31. Sung karaoke
32. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
33. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
34. Walked on a beach by moonlight
35. Been transported in an ambulance
36. Gone deep-sea fishing
37. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
38. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
39. Played in the mud
40. Gone to a drive in theater
41. Been in a movie
42. Visited the Great Wall of China
43. Started a business
44. Served at a soup kitchen
45. Sold Boy Scout popcorn
46. Gone whale watching
47. Gotten flowers for no reason
48. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
49. Gone sky diving
50. Bounced a check
51. Flown in a helicopter
52. Saved a favorite childhood toy
53. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
54. Eaten caviar
55. Pieced a quilt
56. Stood in Times Square
57. Been fired from a job
58. Broken a bone
59. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
60. Published a book
61. Had your picture in the newspaper
62. Read the entire Bible
63. Visited the White House
64. Killed and prepared an animal for eating (ahhh, those good ol' days of chicken farming...)
65. Had chicken pox
66. Saved someone's life
67. Sat on a jury
68. Met someone famous (does Ray Charles' tour bus driver count?)
69. Joined a book club
70. Lost a loved one
71. Had a baby
72. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
73. Been involved in a law suit
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Alaska
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Been to Disneyland
7. Climbed a mountain
8. Held a praying mantis
10. Bungee jumped
11. Watched a lightning storm
12. Taught yourself an art from scratch
13. Adopted a child
14. Had food poisoning
15. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
16. Slept on an overnight train
15. Had a pillow fight
18. Hitch hiked
19. Built a snow fort
20. Run a Marathon
21. Watched a sunrise or a sunset
22. Hit a home run
23. Been on a cruise
24. Seen Niagara Falls in person
25. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
26. Seen an Amish community
27. Taught yourself a new language
28. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
29. Gone rock climbing
30. Seen Michelangelo’s David
31. Sung karaoke
32. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
33. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
34. Walked on a beach by moonlight
35. Been transported in an ambulance
36. Gone deep-sea fishing
37. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
38. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
39. Played in the mud
40. Gone to a drive in theater
41. Been in a movie
42. Visited the Great Wall of China
43. Started a business
44. Served at a soup kitchen
45. Sold Boy Scout popcorn
46. Gone whale watching
47. Gotten flowers for no reason
48. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
49. Gone sky diving
50. Bounced a check
51. Flown in a helicopter
52. Saved a favorite childhood toy
53. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
54. Eaten caviar
55. Pieced a quilt
56. Stood in Times Square
57. Been fired from a job
58. Broken a bone
59. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
60. Published a book
61. Had your picture in the newspaper
62. Read the entire Bible
63. Visited the White House
64. Killed and prepared an animal for eating (ahhh, those good ol' days of chicken farming...)
65. Had chicken pox
66. Saved someone's life
67. Sat on a jury
68. Met someone famous (does Ray Charles' tour bus driver count?)
69. Joined a book club
70. Lost a loved one
71. Had a baby
72. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
73. Been involved in a law suit
Show Biz.
So. Tonight was opening night. I have a lot of opinions, but right now the main thing want to say is that the show is incredible, both as a production and as an experience. I didn't even get stage fright! I get to wear all black and pretend that the audience doesn't exist. As far as my job is concerned, the stage is little more than memorizing (or using my cheat sheet discreetly, as is most often the case) cable numbers, scene numbers, and a bunch of routes and destinations for the "booms" that hold the lighting fixtures. I had hopes of earning a "Best Boy" title on the credits, or in the program. but I guess I'll have to settle for "Evan Embry", first name on the list of electricians.
Here's one cool thing though. I think I scored a 10' x 10' vinyl poster of Nosferatu!
I emailed the guy in charge of the posters about possibly getting a 3 x 5 (or something like that) poster. He said the departments had already claimed them all... but that no one wanted this 10 x 10 because it is just toooo big.
Sweet. I didn't ask for the vinyl because I figured it was too valuable or coveted for me to have a chance of getting it.
Anyway, aside from the fact that I am not really given due credit (actually I got my name corrected in the credits, just not the programs... the tangible... memorable programs.) I think it is well worth starving for lack of availability to work, the lack of time for homework hasn't hit yet. And rent isn't due for another week.
Here's one cool thing though. I think I scored a 10' x 10' vinyl poster of Nosferatu!
I emailed the guy in charge of the posters about possibly getting a 3 x 5 (or something like that) poster. He said the departments had already claimed them all... but that no one wanted this 10 x 10 because it is just toooo big.
Sweet. I didn't ask for the vinyl because I figured it was too valuable or coveted for me to have a chance of getting it.
Anyway, aside from the fact that I am not really given due credit (actually I got my name corrected in the credits, just not the programs... the tangible... memorable programs.) I think it is well worth starving for lack of availability to work, the lack of time for homework hasn't hit yet. And rent isn't due for another week.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
I gotta be more personable...
All my life I have been able to count the number of people I call Friend on one hand.
This is not another sob story about how I was deprived of social interaction growing up (but it's true). It may in some remote way have affected my concept of what a friend is, but if it did, it is in an entirely counter-intuitive way.
It's always been something that floats in and out of my awareness-- the fact that I don't pledge much concern to much of anyone but myself, but only recently have I begun to see the impact it has had.
When I speak of an "impact", being who I am, I'm referring to the negative effect that this has had on ME. I don't know why I'm so selfish and I honestly don't know if I can change that about myself. I would like to think it is possible, but I think in the end, it is mainly selfishness that motivates people. I am a very empathetic person, and I often do selfless things out of concern for others. But I'm not sure where I draw the line of things I would give up for someone else. That's probably why I have yet to land in a plain of understanding anywhere near the realm of the concept of matrimony... I dunno if that even makes any sense... suffice it to say, I don't understand why anybody my age would ever consider getting married... unless for selfish reasons, like a tax break or a double portion of government funny money "stimulus package". I can at least say that I'm not THAT selfish. but then again... maybe the reason I would never get married strictly for monetary gain (mutually agreed upon on by both parties) is because I know it wouldn't last, and then if I found someone with whom I could see myself, I wouldn't exactly have a clean record. so there's a level of selfishness in every choice I make.
So, with that little exploration of my psyche, I think I'm ready to address the topic of this post. wait... maybe not.
Like I said before, I don't consider people friends unless they are enough like me take on some sort of proxy role to facilitate my unconscionable preoccupation with self-indulgence. Self-indulgence by proxy. It's what I do. I have had "best friends" who are now pretty much just memories to me. I find it really easy to move on. I don't know if it's because after a while I forget about them-- who they were, how to interact with them. I feel like I wouldn't know what to say to them if we did talk again. I'm probably fooling myself, I'm just saying, I do a good job of that. Friends for me are there always, and even then I may not consider you a friend. some people I can know for years and never graduate them from "Acquaintance" (there's probably a better word, but I don't know it.
I'm really stingy with who I call friend. and I don't know why. I'll admit I am really judgmental, and snooty when it comes to who I deem smart, witty, funny, cool, interesting, etc. and someone has to possess an exceptional amount of one, or several of these things for me to befriend them. otherwise they are simply someone to talk to when there's no one else to talk to.
So why? why do I think I'm so much better than anyone else? I don't even live up to my own high standards, why do I demand that of others? And when they fall short of my standard, why do I feel like I'm being gracious to accept them anyway "despite their flaws".
I am only really severing myself from valuable insights and experiences. again, I remind you, I am only really looking at what's in it for me. Being accepting of others, being free with my praise and time and laughter and love would only widen my world of understanding. There are so many "Acquaintances" who might have been partners-in-crime, valuable connections, owners of insight and knowledge, and I have put them out of my circle. Just because I have always had a really small circle with not a lot of room. I think I need to expand my circle.
If I do this thing, I think I will get more friends, friends with connections and resources. or people with ideas I can borrow, off of whom I can bounce my own ideas...
I just need to work on letting down that imaginary fence that I raise between myself and people I don't know intimately.
This is not another sob story about how I was deprived of social interaction growing up (but it's true). It may in some remote way have affected my concept of what a friend is, but if it did, it is in an entirely counter-intuitive way.
It's always been something that floats in and out of my awareness-- the fact that I don't pledge much concern to much of anyone but myself, but only recently have I begun to see the impact it has had.
When I speak of an "impact", being who I am, I'm referring to the negative effect that this has had on ME. I don't know why I'm so selfish and I honestly don't know if I can change that about myself. I would like to think it is possible, but I think in the end, it is mainly selfishness that motivates people. I am a very empathetic person, and I often do selfless things out of concern for others. But I'm not sure where I draw the line of things I would give up for someone else. That's probably why I have yet to land in a plain of understanding anywhere near the realm of the concept of matrimony... I dunno if that even makes any sense... suffice it to say, I don't understand why anybody my age would ever consider getting married... unless for selfish reasons, like a tax break or a double portion of government funny money "stimulus package". I can at least say that I'm not THAT selfish. but then again... maybe the reason I would never get married strictly for monetary gain (mutually agreed upon on by both parties) is because I know it wouldn't last, and then if I found someone with whom I could see myself, I wouldn't exactly have a clean record. so there's a level of selfishness in every choice I make.
So, with that little exploration of my psyche, I think I'm ready to address the topic of this post. wait... maybe not.
Like I said before, I don't consider people friends unless they are enough like me take on some sort of proxy role to facilitate my unconscionable preoccupation with self-indulgence. Self-indulgence by proxy. It's what I do. I have had "best friends" who are now pretty much just memories to me. I find it really easy to move on. I don't know if it's because after a while I forget about them-- who they were, how to interact with them. I feel like I wouldn't know what to say to them if we did talk again. I'm probably fooling myself, I'm just saying, I do a good job of that. Friends for me are there always, and even then I may not consider you a friend. some people I can know for years and never graduate them from "Acquaintance" (there's probably a better word, but I don't know it.
I'm really stingy with who I call friend. and I don't know why. I'll admit I am really judgmental, and snooty when it comes to who I deem smart, witty, funny, cool, interesting, etc. and someone has to possess an exceptional amount of one, or several of these things for me to befriend them. otherwise they are simply someone to talk to when there's no one else to talk to.
So why? why do I think I'm so much better than anyone else? I don't even live up to my own high standards, why do I demand that of others? And when they fall short of my standard, why do I feel like I'm being gracious to accept them anyway "despite their flaws".
I am only really severing myself from valuable insights and experiences. again, I remind you, I am only really looking at what's in it for me. Being accepting of others, being free with my praise and time and laughter and love would only widen my world of understanding. There are so many "Acquaintances" who might have been partners-in-crime, valuable connections, owners of insight and knowledge, and I have put them out of my circle. Just because I have always had a really small circle with not a lot of room. I think I need to expand my circle.
If I do this thing, I think I will get more friends, friends with connections and resources. or people with ideas I can borrow, off of whom I can bounce my own ideas...
I just need to work on letting down that imaginary fence that I raise between myself and people I don't know intimately.
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