So what did we learn yesterday? We learned that you actually don't get to choose who you are. There are a multitude of factors that comprise you identity, none of which are choices. I could dazzle you with my psycho bablle and explain to you the effects of your biopsychosocial framework on your identity, but I think it is safe to assume that I actually do know what I am talking about, after all, I used biopsychosocial framework in a sentence.....properly.
But wait, could we not choose which parts of our identity, of the self to display. Without going in to the ways in which the ego, id and superego interact...to a certain extent yes. But what else did we learn yesterday? That we do this all the time, and it is pointless, so let's move on.
Part 2 of our 5 part series on how to be you is all about figuring out how to find your identity. If we remove choice from the equation, then we must now look at a way to figure the whole thiing out.
Like I said yesterday, choice would make this so much simpler. Wouldn't it be great if I could choose to be a nice person? Oh the money would roll right on in then.
Instead, we are stuck with searching our own souls for our identity...or at least the dorkstick in the mirror.
What aspects make up identity, maybe we should start there.
Personality? Self Image? Activities? Actions? Desires?
Yeah I like those criteria. They seem doable, and not to far out there on the new agey limb. That limb is tough to stay on because there is a white guy in a dashiki who smells like pecculi chanting self help mantras while doing the downward facing dog. It is unsafe for most people. Where's my Enya?
Ok wait, where was I? Oh right, personality.
What the freak is personality anyway? Is it the culmination of the way in which we see the world, and thus treat it? Is it defined by our nature and what ways we choose to preseent ourselves to the world?
Okie dokie, I can handle that.
I am a sarcastic bastard. Really, I hadn't noticed.
I sometimes find myself playing nice with others when I don't want to. They bother me, but I cling to them for some sort of comfort. Then I am all sarcastic. It makes my head hurt sometimes.
I also have this, shit happens world view, which causes me to not react emotionally to situations not involving bitches and whores....did I say that out loud? Anyway, the point is, I am oone of those melodramatic fools, no doubt about it...wait, that is lame pop grunge, not a real statement.
What this world view does is force me to use humour as every type of weapon/defense mechanism in the book. It is also what makes me both fun at parties and a great person to have around when the bio waste hits the oscilating cooling device. I just don't gfet stressed out when limbs fall off or people are running around trying to solve an emergency.
To sum up, I am a thoughtless jerk most of the time, but hey, nobodies perfect. I mostly just like to play with people and say stuff just to watch them react. It is fun for me.
Self Image. I'd like to skip this one, but I am not going to. Oh, I should explain at this point, I am doing this for myself to show you how it is done and perhaps my brass ones might lead you down the road of self discover too.
Self image is, give or take, the person you see in the mirror, and the person you think of when someone says your name. This is how you describe you to you, and then how you project that to the world.
Some days I like the man in the mirror, and somedays I see him as a fat loser. I guess this is mostly because I give too much power to the outside world, but what the heck, gotta give them some power sometime, or I would just internalize everything, and that sounds like a horrible idea.
I also see myself as not overly worth other people's time. This is a confidence issue which often leads to me not being worth people's time.
I am done with this one because it makes me feel bad.
I would like to point out though, today, I am having a good mirror day. I just thought I looked good. A large, strong person with style and a bit of a quirky personality. My face was not ugly, but full of interest and character.
Yay, good mirror day.
Activities are the things you enjoy doing. While we are not always defined by our hobbies and interests, they certainly add to the mosaic...oh there's a new agey term....I need more whey protein, and a damn soy based beverage.
What can I say, I am a geek. I like Star Wars. I can quote Star Wars. I can quote people who quote Star Wars. I own Fanboys. I have Star Wars minatures.
I game. Both electronically, and table top...ily.
I also love music.
Pop culture is funny to me, and I like to make fun of it...non stop. I could sit in Darryl's basement listening to Bluegrass (I really dislike bluegrass btw) laughing at youtube videos and discussing the downfall of civilization for the rest of my life and only desire some fresh food and water every once and a while.
I am also in to sports. I always have been. I love baseball, like hockey, and am interested in Footbal...mainly for the napping value.
I think the point I am making is, I don't give a crap about purses, bracelets, your boyfriend, what so and so said to you, or any of what you are doing with your hair now. If it doesn't have a batting average, Thaco (woot for the old school dandd reference, a touchdown to interception ratio, a beat you can slice people's heads off to, or failing that, dance to; then I am not the least bit interested in it.
Those are my interests and hobbies...oh did I mention I like to press buttons. I really don't care what kind of warning labels appear above, below, beside, or even on them. My desire to press them and see what happens is overwhelming. I do this with people too. It makes it hard to actually be my friend. I am guess only one person who is reading this actually knows these things about me and is laughing a bit about it. I can be a hard person to be friends with.
Actions differ from activities because I am defining actions as the things you do, not because you like them, but because you have to. They are your behaviours. The way yu act around other people. This also differs from your personality to some degree because, these are the ways you actually act, not the way you want to act.
You may have nboticed some of my descriptions included actions, and that is sort of the way actions work. They are sprinkled in to all the other categries. The only thing I can think of about my actions that stands out on their own is maybe the way I scowl in public. I like to make people stand apart from me and think I am unapproachable. This is a carry over from the street.
Lastly, we have the ever important desires.
I desire to help people. Sometimes, the cynic in me, says I like this, or desire to do this because it makes me feel better about all the ways I hurt people in the past. The optimist (a rarely seen figure in my clothing) likes to think it is because I have an enlightened world view and see this as a shattered world that needs everyone working together to make it whole again. I eel good when I help people, and that is all that matters. The who what where when why of it is just window dressing for psychoanalysts to chew on...mmmm mixed metaphorical statements taste like slimy.
I desire companionship. There is nothing I hate more than being alone. It drives me bonkers. I need company. Even if it is just knowing someone is nearby. I have felt broken and alone so much of my life that I just can't stand it anymore.
I desire sex. Yes, that's right, I loves me some sex. The sex is great. It really is. I like every aspect of it, esspecially the closeness and oneness of the whole deal.
I think now you can see how my desires manifest in actions. If only I wasn't paranoid of people and completely mistrustful of their motivations. That is my maladaptive behaviour, and while I would love to sit here typing about it, that is not what this is about. This is about positive things, not the things that are a bummer about each and every one of us.
If we roll all of that together in to a neat package, we start to get an idea of my identity. Who I am, what I stand for, what people can expect from me, how losery I am. Wanna know how bad I am? I actualy have a file folder on my computer full of my interests called losery. It makes me smile.
Now you try it.
As of day two, we have learned that identity is not something you can choose, nor is it easy to define. We have learned you can highlight aspects, or closet some of them, but in the end, you are who you are.
I wonder how many people who think they are my friend are now realising that I have suppressed me when dealing with them. How many friends realise I am not me around them because they would not accept me. I am no longer interested in hiding that, just as I am no longer interested in hiding that I am smart. I may not be able to type well, spell, do math, or draw, but I am friggin smart. I don't want to sound conceited, but there are very few rooms I have ever been in where I was not the smartest one in the room.
In the catagory of be careful what you wish for, I present to you, me. You all said be me. Well here I am. You should be you to, see how ar that gets you in life.
Tomorrow we will discuss chocolate and the amazing Boris Karloff.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
You, Me and Decree.
I find it rather interesting that more than one person has given me the advice that I just need to be me. Be yourself monkey man, and the world will be yours. This is such a load of BS it makes me feel like Cartman's mom.
No one, ever, wants you to be you, it interferes with them being them. In all honesty, being me makes every woman on the planet want to be my friend. I do not need any more friends. I don't like half the ones I have now, and the other half don't get treated half as well as they should because I am so busy with the half I want to beat about the head and neck with a baseball bat.
Think about it. People are jerks. We are all selfish, and we are all more animal than we would like to admit. Everyone likes to point to the UCLA study that had half a psychology class pretend to be convicts and the other half prison guards. Unsupervisedd, after only a few short days, the guards turned insane and began torturing their classmates. This is people being them.
Sure, these are average people, but the world is full of average people. Despite what they might think, I have met very few above average people. I know a handful, maybe 3-4 above average people. The rest of them are depressingly average, even if they think they are not.
Dating, at least the attraction process of it is about putting your best foot forward. It is sort of like people who dress up for church. God doesn't care what you wear, or anything of the sort, but you had better look good for the neighbours. The same thing is true of attraction stage dating. You are supposed to be on your best behaviour.
Sure, no one suggests that you should lie, but you certainly need to behave in specific way. Why do you think first dates are so stressful? Not because of the pressure to be charming, but because of the pressure to edit everything you do or say.
I think it is ridiculous to think that you can attract a person merely by being yourself. Yourself is selfish. Yourself talks with their mouthful, yourself grunts at the wrong time. Yourself farts. Yourself sometimes would rather be somewhere else.
It seems interesting to me that people think they are being themselves. The same people who pretend to be things they aren't. They lie to themselves. They fake enjoyment of things to please other people. They pretend to like their coworkers.
All these fake people think I need to be myself.
Of course, that advice is harder to follow when you have no idea who you are. We all fake it to make it. We all pretend to be things, pretend to like things. Some of us try so hard to fit in that we forgot who we are.
That is where I find myself. I have beem faking it so long I am not sure who I really am. I have pretended to be so much that the real me has fallen away and I have either become who I pretend to be, or I have zero identity.
This got me thinking how do you find your own identity.
To that end, I am going to examine some identities this week and see if any of them fit.
First off, I think I should be gay. I am terrible with women, you know, unbless I want to just be friends. I think this means I am gay. A legion of females who want to be my friend and are so comfortable around me they can talk about anything, and make me feel like a tool. Ok so Imight be gay.
It would be so easy for me to just start being gay.
Of course, while I love sausage I am just not a fan of giving head. I don't want those things in my mouth.
Ok, I can be a pitcher.
I am beefy and angry, I can be a bear. Yes, I can be a selfish top bear. According to the fat man's large gay friend Malcolm, it is simple to get laid as a bear. This would make me happy.
I guess I can be a big gay bear.
My most meaningful relationships in the last few years of been solely with men. Ian, Darryl, Jay. All guys. My female relationships have been ripe with annoying behaviours, dissapointment, rejection and all the other lovely things we all hope and dream for.
Apparently I am in to dudes. I get along with them, and they never dissapoint me.
Maybe I am a big gay bear man lover.
Wouldn't it be great if the christians were right and the world worked this way. Of course, it doesn't work this way.
I love women. Men are rough, and bumpy, and smelly. Women are soft and rounded and smell amazing. Men are mostly idiots, women are kind and seem to be interesting to me. I do not like outies, men are outies.
Short, tall, fat, skinny, blonde, red head, brunette, white, black, chinese, native, they are all attractive. I find myself in general appreciation of most women I see. This isn't going well. It would appear that despite the fact women only want me as their gay friend, I am unfailingly in to them, and apart from a very select few, I can't stand dudes. Ther majority of them think only of eating, fucking and drinking.
Ok, identity check number 1. I am flamingly heterosexual.
Ok, I guess tomorrow I will try and be something else.
No one, ever, wants you to be you, it interferes with them being them. In all honesty, being me makes every woman on the planet want to be my friend. I do not need any more friends. I don't like half the ones I have now, and the other half don't get treated half as well as they should because I am so busy with the half I want to beat about the head and neck with a baseball bat.
Think about it. People are jerks. We are all selfish, and we are all more animal than we would like to admit. Everyone likes to point to the UCLA study that had half a psychology class pretend to be convicts and the other half prison guards. Unsupervisedd, after only a few short days, the guards turned insane and began torturing their classmates. This is people being them.
Sure, these are average people, but the world is full of average people. Despite what they might think, I have met very few above average people. I know a handful, maybe 3-4 above average people. The rest of them are depressingly average, even if they think they are not.
Dating, at least the attraction process of it is about putting your best foot forward. It is sort of like people who dress up for church. God doesn't care what you wear, or anything of the sort, but you had better look good for the neighbours. The same thing is true of attraction stage dating. You are supposed to be on your best behaviour.
Sure, no one suggests that you should lie, but you certainly need to behave in specific way. Why do you think first dates are so stressful? Not because of the pressure to be charming, but because of the pressure to edit everything you do or say.
I think it is ridiculous to think that you can attract a person merely by being yourself. Yourself is selfish. Yourself talks with their mouthful, yourself grunts at the wrong time. Yourself farts. Yourself sometimes would rather be somewhere else.
It seems interesting to me that people think they are being themselves. The same people who pretend to be things they aren't. They lie to themselves. They fake enjoyment of things to please other people. They pretend to like their coworkers.
All these fake people think I need to be myself.
Of course, that advice is harder to follow when you have no idea who you are. We all fake it to make it. We all pretend to be things, pretend to like things. Some of us try so hard to fit in that we forgot who we are.
That is where I find myself. I have beem faking it so long I am not sure who I really am. I have pretended to be so much that the real me has fallen away and I have either become who I pretend to be, or I have zero identity.
This got me thinking how do you find your own identity.
To that end, I am going to examine some identities this week and see if any of them fit.
First off, I think I should be gay. I am terrible with women, you know, unbless I want to just be friends. I think this means I am gay. A legion of females who want to be my friend and are so comfortable around me they can talk about anything, and make me feel like a tool. Ok so Imight be gay.
It would be so easy for me to just start being gay.
Of course, while I love sausage I am just not a fan of giving head. I don't want those things in my mouth.
Ok, I can be a pitcher.
I am beefy and angry, I can be a bear. Yes, I can be a selfish top bear. According to the fat man's large gay friend Malcolm, it is simple to get laid as a bear. This would make me happy.
I guess I can be a big gay bear.
My most meaningful relationships in the last few years of been solely with men. Ian, Darryl, Jay. All guys. My female relationships have been ripe with annoying behaviours, dissapointment, rejection and all the other lovely things we all hope and dream for.
Apparently I am in to dudes. I get along with them, and they never dissapoint me.
Maybe I am a big gay bear man lover.
Wouldn't it be great if the christians were right and the world worked this way. Of course, it doesn't work this way.
I love women. Men are rough, and bumpy, and smelly. Women are soft and rounded and smell amazing. Men are mostly idiots, women are kind and seem to be interesting to me. I do not like outies, men are outies.
Short, tall, fat, skinny, blonde, red head, brunette, white, black, chinese, native, they are all attractive. I find myself in general appreciation of most women I see. This isn't going well. It would appear that despite the fact women only want me as their gay friend, I am unfailingly in to them, and apart from a very select few, I can't stand dudes. Ther majority of them think only of eating, fucking and drinking.
Ok, identity check number 1. I am flamingly heterosexual.
Ok, I guess tomorrow I will try and be something else.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
One Monkey Week Nov 22-28
I am not going to apologize for how this is going to go. This is my first aggregate blog post. Hopefully it works out.
One week of blogs in one paragraph.
I joined everyone else on the internet and blogged about not blogging, then I began my highly publicised meltdown. Some might have thought it was about this clever Barenaked Ladies Reference. In reality, it had more to do with misbegotten youth than it dd with misfiring neurons and seratonin reuptake issues, which is the Big Bang Theory description of love. I took a few minutes out of making an ass of myself to direct you all why white men do not like people to touch their junk, and how the media burries the lead underneath a social accepted koleidiscope of colour. As an aside, if you are interested in Toronto's gang history, you may want to check it out as well. After that, shit got sour. I started posting about my emotions, which is never a good idea. So to sum up, I am still living with my ghosts, I am a lonely bastard, I listen to too much white guy radio, and I mistreat the internet as my own personal crying towel.
& monkey messages.
These are the messages of the day from Facebook.
There are many ways of breaking a heart. Stories were full of hearts
broken by love, but what really broke a heart was taking away its dream -
whatever that dream might be. - Pearl S. Buck
All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is
to discover them.Galileo Galilei
Uhmmmm....so the rest got accidentally deleted when I transfered management of the page over to someone else. Oops, my bad. You can safely assume there were a bunch of really cool quotes from some of the best thinkers of our time. That reminds me, Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain) did the coolest most awesomest thing. He wrote an auto biography, and left strict instructions that it not be published for 100 years after his death. I often wonder if this guy was truly one of the greatest thinkers ever, or just a collection of ideas someone found and aggregated. This proves that the former is true. A brilliant brilliant man, if a bit of a douchey product of his time.
Anyway, next week, I should have the full list of quotes for you.
The musical interlude.
Here are the songs of the day, those that were not deleted.
Stone Sour - Zzyzx Rd. Just a brilliant song from a dude who wears make up. It is sometimes hard to believe that the front man from Slipknot (a pretty good metal band) is also the front man from this band. A real smart funny dude, and his music is worth checking out. This song, in particular speaks volumes to me. Desperation is a dangerous trap.
Breaking Benjaimin - Away One of my favourite bands. Obsession is a dangerous game. Sometimes, it is far better to walk away than it is to feed the animals at the zoo. This is one monkey that you may wish to pass by, lest he fling a little present at you.
Three Days Grace - Wake Up Another great post grunge rock band, this time from the Canada. This song is an interesting beggary for a second chance. In my head it is about me trying to find my way back to myself. Sort of like my new self clamouring for my old self. Wondering where I went to, and why I am not here to save me. I think sometimes, I wish for that old protective shell. I feel myself slipping in to it more and more. It is like putting on a comfortable set of clothes that just screams you.
Drowning Pool - Bodies 1. Nothing wrong with me. 2. Nothing wrong with me. 3. Nothing wrong with me. 1. Somethingès gotta give. A continuation of the thought of returning to who I feel comfortable being. I think we all try hard to be the person people will like and care two taxi chits about. Sometimes I think it is easier to be the inner angry voice, than it is to be the outer, more acceptable me. This song is about being the inner you. Being me is about not caring about what you think, so be you, and let the bodies hit the floor.
Weekly Nirvana.
Seriously, did anyone think I would not get to this. Instead of always picking them for the song of the day, I felt it better to just provide you with one Kurt, Krist, and whoever happens to be drumming for them, pearl of wisdom a week.
Breaking Up is hard to do, whether it is with a person, concept, deity, or yourself.
Podcast of the week.
It comes from the mind of Chris Hardwick, former mtv dude, and genuinely funny guy. He is a fellow geek. Some of his geek credentials include having once been Will Wheaton's roommate, having an apple genius as a co-host, and hating Dr.Who, timelord.
The podcast is full of funny people. Each week he brings on a nerd/geek culture related guest or comedian and they just go nuts.
Some highlights shows include a live on stage show with Adam Savage, a greta interview with OZZY!, a post WWDC chat with a bunch of nerds, including the gizmodo dude who stole iphone (apple geeks will understand this whole thing) and Weird Al as a guest.
I am only about halfway through listening to all of them, but not one of them failed to make me luagh out loud.
Check out the Nerdist podcast.
One Monkey Toy.
Tap Tap Revenge.
SAeriously, a guitar hero like app forr iphone, ipod touch an d iPad? How do I get in on this. Now, with multi tasking, you can just background the thing when you get a call, right in the middle of a song and return to where you left off. This is geek sweetness at it's finest.
Wrap Party.
So, that was the weeek. Not much happened really, you know, the usual. I made a fool out of myself for your entertainment, listened to some good music (which was rather difficult since the stupid iPod nano has that shake to shuffle feature, which by the way knocks you out of pause/sleep mode, so if you do not very very very gently place your nano on the table, you may inadvertantly cause it to shuffle and wake up, there by draining the batteries and causing you to have to listen to the weirdos on the bus), and had a fun time with the internets.
Later, peepsicles.
One week of blogs in one paragraph.
I joined everyone else on the internet and blogged about not blogging, then I began my highly publicised meltdown. Some might have thought it was about this clever Barenaked Ladies Reference. In reality, it had more to do with misbegotten youth than it dd with misfiring neurons and seratonin reuptake issues, which is the Big Bang Theory description of love. I took a few minutes out of making an ass of myself to direct you all why white men do not like people to touch their junk, and how the media burries the lead underneath a social accepted koleidiscope of colour. As an aside, if you are interested in Toronto's gang history, you may want to check it out as well. After that, shit got sour. I started posting about my emotions, which is never a good idea. So to sum up, I am still living with my ghosts, I am a lonely bastard, I listen to too much white guy radio, and I mistreat the internet as my own personal crying towel.
& monkey messages.
These are the messages of the day from Facebook.
There are many ways of breaking a heart. Stories were full of hearts
broken by love, but what really broke a heart was taking away its dream -
whatever that dream might be. - Pearl S. Buck
All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is
to discover them.Galileo Galilei
Uhmmmm....so the rest got accidentally deleted when I transfered management of the page over to someone else. Oops, my bad. You can safely assume there were a bunch of really cool quotes from some of the best thinkers of our time. That reminds me, Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain) did the coolest most awesomest thing. He wrote an auto biography, and left strict instructions that it not be published for 100 years after his death. I often wonder if this guy was truly one of the greatest thinkers ever, or just a collection of ideas someone found and aggregated. This proves that the former is true. A brilliant brilliant man, if a bit of a douchey product of his time.
Anyway, next week, I should have the full list of quotes for you.
The musical interlude.
Here are the songs of the day, those that were not deleted.
Stone Sour - Zzyzx Rd. Just a brilliant song from a dude who wears make up. It is sometimes hard to believe that the front man from Slipknot (a pretty good metal band) is also the front man from this band. A real smart funny dude, and his music is worth checking out. This song, in particular speaks volumes to me. Desperation is a dangerous trap.
Breaking Benjaimin - Away One of my favourite bands. Obsession is a dangerous game. Sometimes, it is far better to walk away than it is to feed the animals at the zoo. This is one monkey that you may wish to pass by, lest he fling a little present at you.
Three Days Grace - Wake Up Another great post grunge rock band, this time from the Canada. This song is an interesting beggary for a second chance. In my head it is about me trying to find my way back to myself. Sort of like my new self clamouring for my old self. Wondering where I went to, and why I am not here to save me. I think sometimes, I wish for that old protective shell. I feel myself slipping in to it more and more. It is like putting on a comfortable set of clothes that just screams you.
Drowning Pool - Bodies 1. Nothing wrong with me. 2. Nothing wrong with me. 3. Nothing wrong with me. 1. Somethingès gotta give. A continuation of the thought of returning to who I feel comfortable being. I think we all try hard to be the person people will like and care two taxi chits about. Sometimes I think it is easier to be the inner angry voice, than it is to be the outer, more acceptable me. This song is about being the inner you. Being me is about not caring about what you think, so be you, and let the bodies hit the floor.
Weekly Nirvana.
Seriously, did anyone think I would not get to this. Instead of always picking them for the song of the day, I felt it better to just provide you with one Kurt, Krist, and whoever happens to be drumming for them, pearl of wisdom a week.
Breaking Up is hard to do, whether it is with a person, concept, deity, or yourself.
Podcast of the week.
It comes from the mind of Chris Hardwick, former mtv dude, and genuinely funny guy. He is a fellow geek. Some of his geek credentials include having once been Will Wheaton's roommate, having an apple genius as a co-host, and hating Dr.Who, timelord.
The podcast is full of funny people. Each week he brings on a nerd/geek culture related guest or comedian and they just go nuts.
Some highlights shows include a live on stage show with Adam Savage, a greta interview with OZZY!, a post WWDC chat with a bunch of nerds, including the gizmodo dude who stole iphone (apple geeks will understand this whole thing) and Weird Al as a guest.
I am only about halfway through listening to all of them, but not one of them failed to make me luagh out loud.
Check out the Nerdist podcast.
One Monkey Toy.
Tap Tap Revenge.
SAeriously, a guitar hero like app forr iphone, ipod touch an d iPad? How do I get in on this. Now, with multi tasking, you can just background the thing when you get a call, right in the middle of a song and return to where you left off. This is geek sweetness at it's finest.
Wrap Party.
So, that was the weeek. Not much happened really, you know, the usual. I made a fool out of myself for your entertainment, listened to some good music (which was rather difficult since the stupid iPod nano has that shake to shuffle feature, which by the way knocks you out of pause/sleep mode, so if you do not very very very gently place your nano on the table, you may inadvertantly cause it to shuffle and wake up, there by draining the batteries and causing you to have to listen to the weirdos on the bus), and had a fun time with the internets.
Later, peepsicles.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Mea Culpa.
So, I have emberrassed myself greatly this week. One of the major drawbacks of trying to be a better angel is that I like to be open and communicate with the world. This blog is part fun, part fiction, part education, part sounding board, part soap box, and part therapy journal.
This past week I used it to lay my heart bare all over the internet. In a way, this is a major breakthru for me. I have, in the past been very guarded about me. I have said somethings, eluded to others. But I have never really laid my whole being on the line for others to read and judge.
For those wondering, the person I wrote all those nice things about rejected me. Yes, it broke my heart just a little bit. To be fair, it was expected, and we have done this dance before. I doubt we will be doing the dance again. I am giving up on her. I have to for my own sake. Some people think she is using me, toying with me. Some people think she is manipulating my emotions for her own sick pleasure. I would like to believe this is untrue. I would like to believe that for once I put my trust in someone and they didn't break that trust.
So, I spent much of my week spinning around in a haze. This led me to make a fool of myself, both in real life and in virtual land. I am truly sorry I melted down in front of you, it is so...undignified.
So, internet, I am sorry baby. I didn't mean it. You are still the one for me, please don't be mad.
So, sorry again for spewing my sadness and anger all over you and making you watch my train wreck.
In a sense it was good for me to do it though. It reminded me of something. I am better than this. Sometimes my self esteem is as fragile as anyone's and I can get down on myself and let things like this leak out in to the world.
Frankly, I am not half as bad as I came across this week, nor am I as bad as I think I am. When I am not feeling sorry for myself, I am smart and funny. As much as I like to hate people, I also love them. I want to help them. These are the things that make me a good person.
I care and am loyal and I am smart and I am funny. If some people don't want that, so be it.
Somedays I just like to smile and nod at chicks who continually walk the path of abuse. They go out with peoiple who make them feel small. Make them feel bad about who they are, then toss them when they are dried up and used to the fullest. It is people like me who pick them back up, dust them off and get them prepped for the next douche. If they can't see the value in people like me, it is their own short sighted blundering.
I am speaking of more than one person, in fact, I am speaking of a half dozen women I have met in the last few years. All of whom passed on what I had to offer the,. So be it.
In the end, I will always have you internet, and if you will take me back, you will always have me. I will be here to make you laugh, to make you smile, to make you think, to pick you up when you fall down, to make you feel better about yourself, to drive you crazy, and to just sit and pass the time with.
yeah yeah, quick post, no editing again. I will be back tomorrow with a real post and such, I will even run spell checker.
This past week I used it to lay my heart bare all over the internet. In a way, this is a major breakthru for me. I have, in the past been very guarded about me. I have said somethings, eluded to others. But I have never really laid my whole being on the line for others to read and judge.
For those wondering, the person I wrote all those nice things about rejected me. Yes, it broke my heart just a little bit. To be fair, it was expected, and we have done this dance before. I doubt we will be doing the dance again. I am giving up on her. I have to for my own sake. Some people think she is using me, toying with me. Some people think she is manipulating my emotions for her own sick pleasure. I would like to believe this is untrue. I would like to believe that for once I put my trust in someone and they didn't break that trust.
So, I spent much of my week spinning around in a haze. This led me to make a fool of myself, both in real life and in virtual land. I am truly sorry I melted down in front of you, it is so...undignified.
So, internet, I am sorry baby. I didn't mean it. You are still the one for me, please don't be mad.
So, sorry again for spewing my sadness and anger all over you and making you watch my train wreck.
In a sense it was good for me to do it though. It reminded me of something. I am better than this. Sometimes my self esteem is as fragile as anyone's and I can get down on myself and let things like this leak out in to the world.
Frankly, I am not half as bad as I came across this week, nor am I as bad as I think I am. When I am not feeling sorry for myself, I am smart and funny. As much as I like to hate people, I also love them. I want to help them. These are the things that make me a good person.
I care and am loyal and I am smart and I am funny. If some people don't want that, so be it.
Somedays I just like to smile and nod at chicks who continually walk the path of abuse. They go out with peoiple who make them feel small. Make them feel bad about who they are, then toss them when they are dried up and used to the fullest. It is people like me who pick them back up, dust them off and get them prepped for the next douche. If they can't see the value in people like me, it is their own short sighted blundering.
I am speaking of more than one person, in fact, I am speaking of a half dozen women I have met in the last few years. All of whom passed on what I had to offer the,. So be it.
In the end, I will always have you internet, and if you will take me back, you will always have me. I will be here to make you laugh, to make you smile, to make you think, to pick you up when you fall down, to make you feel better about yourself, to drive you crazy, and to just sit and pass the time with.
yeah yeah, quick post, no editing again. I will be back tomorrow with a real post and such, I will even run spell checker.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Boo
I once wrote this fanciful little story about a dude who was followed around by ghosts. Not Casper the friendly ghost, and not necessarily angry poltergeists. It was a lame little thing that really went nowhere. I then tried to turn it in to a horror story, but the ending was too obvious the way I wrote it, so suspense was kind of lost.
I considered rewriting it here and now as a short story to drive a point home, but I am too tired for metaphor today.
I am too frustrated by myself to bother masking my emotions.
I recently went on a new age rampage about dreams and such. I told you all to try and dream. I am sorry for that.
I wrote all these flowery things about how the world can be a pretty place, but I am so wrong. I know you think this has to do with one thing, but you are wrong. That is merely a symptom of a greater disease.
We are all haunted by the things we have done. Some of us aren't haunted. Some of us merely ramble and shamble on because our ghosts are quiet.
Every once in a while a person comes in to your life whose ghosts are wearing chains, dragging other ghosts and wailing like banshees.
I am one of those people.
At a certain point you have to recognize what is and what is not. I have done so.
I tend to wish I was something that I am not. You pretend to be something for so long, you hope that you become it. This cool person I met this week remindedd me of the saying fake it till you make it. I realised today when I was trying to figure out a way to make this person a more permanent fixture in my life that I am who I have always been, yet noone knows it.
In case you are thinking I am on the path to infatuation with this woman, keep in mind she is one of those people whose thighs don't touch....which is just freaky. She's just one of those funny, sarcastic, caring people I like.
Anyway, the point is, I strip away the fake, and present to you the monkey. I so so because I am tired of pretending. I am tired of making a spectacle of myself. I am tired of hating me.
I have a shit ton of ghosts. I have been surrounded by sorrow all my life. I have done this before, but I have always lied. I have always eluded to things, and make no mistake, I have no interest in being specific right now. Suffice to say, by the time I was 10, several family members met violent ends.
By the time I was 15 sveral friends had met violent ends. By the time I was 22, everyone I had ever loved was gone.
If you think this is something you can just shrug off you are wrong. It stays with you. It forces you to question your value as a human being, and generally it is not good for someone in my position to think this way.
I hate myself.
More importantly I hate people.
I have been dissapointed by every human being I have ever come in to contact with.
I do not trust you.
I do not feel safe with you.
This is why I pretend.
I am not smart, I am cunning. The difference is, I can convince you of things, and I can manipulate. I cannot empathise. I cannot think logically, merely critically.
I cannot prethink. I can only post think.
I am lucky enough to be gifted with survival instincts that cause me to do what needs to be done in most situations, but that is all it is, instinct, not smarts.
I am a crappy writer. I am just not skilled enough to do it. My grade 7 english teacher was right. Can you believe I have done all of this in an attempt to give him the finger?
I hold grudges.
For twelve years I have tried to be that which I am not. I ttried to be one of you. I tried to like people. I tried to find love. I tried to find companionship. I tried to slice of my piece of the pie, but it ain;t gonna happen.
I hate people...a lot.
I am angry and full of rage.
Think of it this way, I can't trust a single human being.
Every last one of them has betrayed me in some fashion. Many because I had expectations that were unreachable.
It was nice of Chad to say I am not ugly, but he is wrong. I am disfigured, fat and not symetrical (by the way, if you want proof I am a bad writter, it is in that unparrelel sentence structure).
It is said by many an artist that beauty lies in symetry. This is true not only of art but also of attraction. my right side is bigger than my left. Part of it is due to my "accident" in childhood. This actually is what you see when you look at me, and why you dismiss me. I used to think it was my weight that mattered the most in this scenario. I would point to my youth as the reasoning. I didn't used to be this big. I always had hotties leaning on me.
I also always had a big sack of drugs and was a dangerous rebel type. Any guesses why I had a girlfriend?
In my life, I have never had a person want me for me. Not once.
Maybe it is because since Joe, no one has known me.
E was right though. E was always right. I am not now, nor have I ever been like you.
I am so tired of trying. I am so tired of pretending to like people. I am so tired of saying, oh how interesting.
I am so tired of wanting. I idealize every last one of you. I always think you like me, and then when I push the matter you puke in your fucking mouth.
Guess how angry that makes me.
Oh, so you are just being nice to me to get what you want from me, but the instant I ask for my needs to be met you walk away, or you act all surprised. I am tired of giving, and now I am going to take.
I am really not a very nice person.
It feels good to say these things. It feels good to finally say how I feel about people.
I tried to have a dream, and I filled it with half assed charaters who never fit the role I cast for them. It is on one hand unfair for me to have cast them in anything. It denies them their identity, and places restrictions on them that do not allow them to be them. It is unfair that they seemed to be one thing when they were not.
I am too tired to argue, too tired to fight, to tired to pretend anymore.
Did you know that I only write this stuff for a few people. People who don`t actually know the real me.
I think that is a horrible reason to pollute the internet. Like so many of my infatuations, nothing will ever come of it. I will always think it is more than it is.
If you want me to not get the wrong idea, stop feeding me. Stop pretending I matter in any way.
It is like the person I mentioned earlier. She told me about this one jerk hole, I also wrote about him the other day, he is an objectifier of women, won`t leave her alone and is a total douche. Thing is, she smiles at him and treats him with politeness and interest. Now, she has informed me she has zero interest in him as a human being and wishes he would go away. She smiles at me as well. Talks to me. Jokes with me. Yet inside she could be thinking this dude is an ass and I wish he would go away. This is the exact reason why I can`t figure out how to approach her.
This is the perfect metaphor for every other relationship I have ever had with either sex.
Sorry for making this public. I have this other friend. She has always known I am attracted to her. She has always known I want more than she gives me. It must kill her because she has no idea what signals she is sending that may be giving off this vibe to me that says it is ok to continue behaving the way I do. It must kill her to realise I am half of what she wants. I fit a good chunk of her desires, but I am also too far aqay in others for her to ever consider me in that way. I know this to be true, but I keep thinking she will change. She once told me that will never happen. It must hurt her something fierce to know I won`t either.
If it matters to you, I do hate that I hurt you.
I don`t like hurting the innocent, but to an extent, she is not innocent. She just doesn`t realise she isn`t innocent.
I can`t be friends with anyone. I have unrealistic expectations.
E was my last friend, and he is dead.
Today I resigned myself to a shitty existance. One with no future. An ordinary life lived in a way that will bring no harm to others.
Today, all ambition died, and I don`t care.
Meaningless encounters with people who don`t give a crap about me are preferable to the pain I continuely bring on myself.
So, if you aare a `friend,`and if you are reading this, you certainly consider yourself one, late, I am out.
I am going away now. I am going somewhere where no one knows my name. Where no one has expectations of me, because they know me not. It is in this that I can be me without fear of loss. I fear it so much, yet create it every turn I make.
I can no longer pretend to be what you need me to be. I am done pretending you are what I am looking for.
If you think this is sour grapes then you do not know me very well.
I am tired of wanting things I cannot have.
I am tired of trying.
No one seems to accept me when I let them in, so I am tired of opening myself up a little.
I am shutting down for good.
Fuck it as they say. I am so tired I am not even going to edit this bitch.
I considered rewriting it here and now as a short story to drive a point home, but I am too tired for metaphor today.
I am too frustrated by myself to bother masking my emotions.
I recently went on a new age rampage about dreams and such. I told you all to try and dream. I am sorry for that.
I wrote all these flowery things about how the world can be a pretty place, but I am so wrong. I know you think this has to do with one thing, but you are wrong. That is merely a symptom of a greater disease.
We are all haunted by the things we have done. Some of us aren't haunted. Some of us merely ramble and shamble on because our ghosts are quiet.
Every once in a while a person comes in to your life whose ghosts are wearing chains, dragging other ghosts and wailing like banshees.
I am one of those people.
At a certain point you have to recognize what is and what is not. I have done so.
I tend to wish I was something that I am not. You pretend to be something for so long, you hope that you become it. This cool person I met this week remindedd me of the saying fake it till you make it. I realised today when I was trying to figure out a way to make this person a more permanent fixture in my life that I am who I have always been, yet noone knows it.
In case you are thinking I am on the path to infatuation with this woman, keep in mind she is one of those people whose thighs don't touch....which is just freaky. She's just one of those funny, sarcastic, caring people I like.
Anyway, the point is, I strip away the fake, and present to you the monkey. I so so because I am tired of pretending. I am tired of making a spectacle of myself. I am tired of hating me.
I have a shit ton of ghosts. I have been surrounded by sorrow all my life. I have done this before, but I have always lied. I have always eluded to things, and make no mistake, I have no interest in being specific right now. Suffice to say, by the time I was 10, several family members met violent ends.
By the time I was 15 sveral friends had met violent ends. By the time I was 22, everyone I had ever loved was gone.
If you think this is something you can just shrug off you are wrong. It stays with you. It forces you to question your value as a human being, and generally it is not good for someone in my position to think this way.
I hate myself.
More importantly I hate people.
I have been dissapointed by every human being I have ever come in to contact with.
I do not trust you.
I do not feel safe with you.
This is why I pretend.
I am not smart, I am cunning. The difference is, I can convince you of things, and I can manipulate. I cannot empathise. I cannot think logically, merely critically.
I cannot prethink. I can only post think.
I am lucky enough to be gifted with survival instincts that cause me to do what needs to be done in most situations, but that is all it is, instinct, not smarts.
I am a crappy writer. I am just not skilled enough to do it. My grade 7 english teacher was right. Can you believe I have done all of this in an attempt to give him the finger?
I hold grudges.
For twelve years I have tried to be that which I am not. I ttried to be one of you. I tried to like people. I tried to find love. I tried to find companionship. I tried to slice of my piece of the pie, but it ain;t gonna happen.
I hate people...a lot.
I am angry and full of rage.
Think of it this way, I can't trust a single human being.
Every last one of them has betrayed me in some fashion. Many because I had expectations that were unreachable.
It was nice of Chad to say I am not ugly, but he is wrong. I am disfigured, fat and not symetrical (by the way, if you want proof I am a bad writter, it is in that unparrelel sentence structure).
It is said by many an artist that beauty lies in symetry. This is true not only of art but also of attraction. my right side is bigger than my left. Part of it is due to my "accident" in childhood. This actually is what you see when you look at me, and why you dismiss me. I used to think it was my weight that mattered the most in this scenario. I would point to my youth as the reasoning. I didn't used to be this big. I always had hotties leaning on me.
I also always had a big sack of drugs and was a dangerous rebel type. Any guesses why I had a girlfriend?
In my life, I have never had a person want me for me. Not once.
Maybe it is because since Joe, no one has known me.
E was right though. E was always right. I am not now, nor have I ever been like you.
I am so tired of trying. I am so tired of pretending to like people. I am so tired of saying, oh how interesting.
I am so tired of wanting. I idealize every last one of you. I always think you like me, and then when I push the matter you puke in your fucking mouth.
Guess how angry that makes me.
Oh, so you are just being nice to me to get what you want from me, but the instant I ask for my needs to be met you walk away, or you act all surprised. I am tired of giving, and now I am going to take.
I am really not a very nice person.
It feels good to say these things. It feels good to finally say how I feel about people.
I tried to have a dream, and I filled it with half assed charaters who never fit the role I cast for them. It is on one hand unfair for me to have cast them in anything. It denies them their identity, and places restrictions on them that do not allow them to be them. It is unfair that they seemed to be one thing when they were not.
I am too tired to argue, too tired to fight, to tired to pretend anymore.
Did you know that I only write this stuff for a few people. People who don`t actually know the real me.
I think that is a horrible reason to pollute the internet. Like so many of my infatuations, nothing will ever come of it. I will always think it is more than it is.
If you want me to not get the wrong idea, stop feeding me. Stop pretending I matter in any way.
It is like the person I mentioned earlier. She told me about this one jerk hole, I also wrote about him the other day, he is an objectifier of women, won`t leave her alone and is a total douche. Thing is, she smiles at him and treats him with politeness and interest. Now, she has informed me she has zero interest in him as a human being and wishes he would go away. She smiles at me as well. Talks to me. Jokes with me. Yet inside she could be thinking this dude is an ass and I wish he would go away. This is the exact reason why I can`t figure out how to approach her.
This is the perfect metaphor for every other relationship I have ever had with either sex.
Sorry for making this public. I have this other friend. She has always known I am attracted to her. She has always known I want more than she gives me. It must kill her because she has no idea what signals she is sending that may be giving off this vibe to me that says it is ok to continue behaving the way I do. It must kill her to realise I am half of what she wants. I fit a good chunk of her desires, but I am also too far aqay in others for her to ever consider me in that way. I know this to be true, but I keep thinking she will change. She once told me that will never happen. It must hurt her something fierce to know I won`t either.
If it matters to you, I do hate that I hurt you.
I don`t like hurting the innocent, but to an extent, she is not innocent. She just doesn`t realise she isn`t innocent.
I can`t be friends with anyone. I have unrealistic expectations.
E was my last friend, and he is dead.
Today I resigned myself to a shitty existance. One with no future. An ordinary life lived in a way that will bring no harm to others.
Today, all ambition died, and I don`t care.
Meaningless encounters with people who don`t give a crap about me are preferable to the pain I continuely bring on myself.
So, if you aare a `friend,`and if you are reading this, you certainly consider yourself one, late, I am out.
I am going away now. I am going somewhere where no one knows my name. Where no one has expectations of me, because they know me not. It is in this that I can be me without fear of loss. I fear it so much, yet create it every turn I make.
I can no longer pretend to be what you need me to be. I am done pretending you are what I am looking for.
If you think this is sour grapes then you do not know me very well.
I am tired of wanting things I cannot have.
I am tired of trying.
No one seems to accept me when I let them in, so I am tired of opening myself up a little.
I am shutting down for good.
Fuck it as they say. I am so tired I am not even going to edit this bitch.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Canadian History X
People have grown very cynical about the media. Not cynical enough. I am starting this off by pulling back the curtain on something. I have never really spoken of this technique before, though it is accepted practice to do this. Some of you may have guessed this is being done.
Whenever you have something controversial to say, you line up someone to bring credibility to your argument. Usually this is done either in the form of the expert guest or one uses a streeter. A streeter is a caller or video of an average citizen.
The point is to soften the blow of what you are about to say, esspecially if it is politically incorrect or sterotypical, or even downright racist, by having someone from the group you are about to bad mouth either start the topic or agree with your assessment of the topic. It gives you free reign to say whatever it is you want. It is the media equivelant of saying "some of my closest friends are black."
I am sure you have seen it many times over the last few years. After the break we are going to talk to Ahmed, professor of Arab Studies at stuff university A, he'll tell us why it is a good idea to strip search every arab looking person who tries to board a plane. Oh ok, if Ahmed is cool with it, then it must be ok to talk about it.
Now, what happens if we replace Ahmed with Allan?
Think back a few years when the Dean of Harvard tried to bring light to the fact that women consistantly test low on math and science based testing. Rather than discussing this real issue, which has nothing to do with brain power, and possibly finding some solutions, all we talked about was how wrong it was for HIM to say it.
Flash forward two years, a famous female professor says the exact same thing, and for weeks we heard about socialization, focused teaching and tutoring issues in the middle school levels. It took us nearly two years to address the subject, merely because of the messenger.
So while I call it a cynical action on the part of the press, it is also a necessary delivery system....in some cases. It is necessary to have a discussion on some issues to bring them to light. In other cases it is merely window dressing for racism.
Now that we have laid a bit of groundwork, maybe I should get to the point.
This morning, on old white guy radio, a douche....errrr competant host, decided that it would be a great idea to bring light to the problem of gang violance in parts of Toronto. This has become, in his words of course, a serious problem in the black community. Shockingly, his first caller was obviously a black man with a heavy Jamaican accent.
Here;s the problem. He is way off base.
I am about to go out on a limb here and reveal a lot of information. Some of it could actually get me in some serious trouble, but I think it is important.
Toronto has had a gang problem for more than twenty years. I should know. I was part of the problem for 8 of those years.
Back in the late 80's and early 90's, the problem was mainly because of white sepremisist gangs. Three of them were running wild in Toronto. They were being supplied by biker gangs and the Italians. The big concern was the influx of certain cultural influences from the United States. You see, this was the New Jack City era. The time of Juice. The time of the glorification of gang culture.
In order to push back from what they feared, the organized criminal groups supported a bunch of diaffected young men and women.
These young white folks turned their hatred outwards. The worst offenders were the White Knights. They controlled a lot of territory in downtown. They were carved out a bunch of hoods by the Italians and the bikers. The Italian group wanted them to push the black gangs in the west end out, and the bikers wanted the core and harbourfront back.
Stuck in the middle of all this was the artist area. A bunch of laid back musicians and whatnot were stuck in the middle.
Violance was bound to happen. Several beatings and two murders happened in 1990. I was there for one of these. My friend Andre was killed by one of these groups. They decided to let me live because I was white. As you may understand, this pissed me off.
In the summer of 1990, and leading in to the fall, several houses and warehouses began to be burned to the ground. Suddenly the white surpremisists were getting beat something fierce. Their territory was shrinking. Two street level crews came to prominance downtown because of this. The DK and the Vanally Park Boys. The DK w2ere a bunch of pissed off disaffectedd youth influenced by a coupe of cultures. One was of course the NWA, public enemy sort of thing. The other was a punk culture. This anarchy laiden thing.
Anyway, violance insued as they fought each other for dominance. When things looked like they could not be controlled, the Italians stepped back in and Backed the Boys. The DK went the way of the bikers, which was a bit natural given the family ties some members had.
Everyone was fighting with the Triads. The Triads had the entire heroin trade sewn up. The bikers had amphetemines and the Italians had coke.
By 1998 things had exploded. The Italians had nearly wiped out the DK. The two survivors...well three, scattered to the winds.
Most of the violance west of Yonge street was blamed on the Vanally Park Boys because they were always getting caught jacking grandma.
The ineter gang violance though was always between the surrogates, the Italians rarely got dirty. The bikers took a hands off approach, offering only cheap product and all the wweaponry an army needed.
Anyway, my knowledge of what happened between 1998 and 2008 is somewhat sketchy. Bits and pieces.
What I can tell you is that, anyone who thinks gay people are pussies is an idiot. Anyone who thinks serbian gangs are acting on their own knows nothing about who actually controls things.
Flash forward to today. I assure you scarborough is not controlled by black gangs. They are the tools of two people fighting it out on a national level.
The bikers and the Italians are at it again. My brother is a victrim of this to some extent. You see he was living a lie. A lie he couldn't live with anymore. He was playing both sides. No one knew he was old school biker tool. Her was partnered with the mob on his business ventures and the old school ties might have gotten him killed if anyone found out.
The point I am making is that the violance has a source. It rarely is what you think it is. The thing that causes this behaviour is always poverty, family disorder, abuse, and drugs. The players on the street level change, but it is always the poor and disaffected. They are used and abused by the organizedd crime factors in any given environment, just as they are in the military.
How many rich people do you think are infantry grunts? Same thing on the front lines of urban warfare.
The problem I had with what doucheman had to say is that he blamed all the violance on the lack of black fathers. Seriously, I am not kidding.
What hurts is that he is correct to a certain extent. Positive, strong male role modeling is one cause of the problem. Remove the need to prove oneself, to medicate oneself, the define oneself in a way that provides some center of control and esteem and you remove the canvas chicken hawks have to paint on.
It is the people who get rich of the crime of the streets; the ones who provide the set with the moral authroity to break the rules are the real problem.
There is no way to treat this problem by attacking the source of this misuse of our youth. The powerful will always protect themselves. What we need to do is remove the incentive and motivation of the youth.
We are far beyond blame at this point. Saying it is the fault of boys having children is to deny the reality that we as a society have the power to correct this.
If we provide the proper rolemodeling, we make a difference. Yelling at those who are not doing the job merely allows those that are providing it to continue to steal our youth. We say to a deadbeat dad, or an absentee, or abusive parent. We tell them that it is their fault. We tell them to step up. We rarely provide them the tools needed. All we do is make them feel worse.
While our eyes are diverted to a symptom of the problem, the chicken hawks swooop in and become the role models. The chicken hawks whisper in the ears of our youth that they can be strong and powerful, they just have to do everything they are told. Then daddy gives them some new toys to play with.
Where are the role models. Where are the real men and women who can step up? Where are the people who can give their time, their experience to our kids. They are our kids. Like it or not, we have them, and we need to do something with them.
All I heard this morning from a frightenedd little man was we need to blame bad parents and punsih the kids more harshly. At no point did this person take any responsibility for perpetuating a system the creates the poverty and socia disease that ferments in our youth. At no time did he step up and say, we need to do something. He merely said we need to blame everyone who doesn't look like us.
I suppose you can try treating cancer by cutting it out. Sooner or later it comes back. Until we develop a cure for it, we need to irradiate it, and we need to reduce carcinogen consumption.
We need to treat our kids as if they mkatter, and we need to step in front of them and show them there is a way; a better way.
Or we can just get a black man to say other black men are to blame. This should make us feel better until we can move out of the neighborhood.
Whenever you have something controversial to say, you line up someone to bring credibility to your argument. Usually this is done either in the form of the expert guest or one uses a streeter. A streeter is a caller or video of an average citizen.
The point is to soften the blow of what you are about to say, esspecially if it is politically incorrect or sterotypical, or even downright racist, by having someone from the group you are about to bad mouth either start the topic or agree with your assessment of the topic. It gives you free reign to say whatever it is you want. It is the media equivelant of saying "some of my closest friends are black."
I am sure you have seen it many times over the last few years. After the break we are going to talk to Ahmed, professor of Arab Studies at stuff university A, he'll tell us why it is a good idea to strip search every arab looking person who tries to board a plane. Oh ok, if Ahmed is cool with it, then it must be ok to talk about it.
Now, what happens if we replace Ahmed with Allan?
Think back a few years when the Dean of Harvard tried to bring light to the fact that women consistantly test low on math and science based testing. Rather than discussing this real issue, which has nothing to do with brain power, and possibly finding some solutions, all we talked about was how wrong it was for HIM to say it.
Flash forward two years, a famous female professor says the exact same thing, and for weeks we heard about socialization, focused teaching and tutoring issues in the middle school levels. It took us nearly two years to address the subject, merely because of the messenger.
So while I call it a cynical action on the part of the press, it is also a necessary delivery system....in some cases. It is necessary to have a discussion on some issues to bring them to light. In other cases it is merely window dressing for racism.
Now that we have laid a bit of groundwork, maybe I should get to the point.
This morning, on old white guy radio, a douche....errrr competant host, decided that it would be a great idea to bring light to the problem of gang violance in parts of Toronto. This has become, in his words of course, a serious problem in the black community. Shockingly, his first caller was obviously a black man with a heavy Jamaican accent.
Here;s the problem. He is way off base.
I am about to go out on a limb here and reveal a lot of information. Some of it could actually get me in some serious trouble, but I think it is important.
Toronto has had a gang problem for more than twenty years. I should know. I was part of the problem for 8 of those years.
Back in the late 80's and early 90's, the problem was mainly because of white sepremisist gangs. Three of them were running wild in Toronto. They were being supplied by biker gangs and the Italians. The big concern was the influx of certain cultural influences from the United States. You see, this was the New Jack City era. The time of Juice. The time of the glorification of gang culture.
In order to push back from what they feared, the organized criminal groups supported a bunch of diaffected young men and women.
These young white folks turned their hatred outwards. The worst offenders were the White Knights. They controlled a lot of territory in downtown. They were carved out a bunch of hoods by the Italians and the bikers. The Italian group wanted them to push the black gangs in the west end out, and the bikers wanted the core and harbourfront back.
Stuck in the middle of all this was the artist area. A bunch of laid back musicians and whatnot were stuck in the middle.
Violance was bound to happen. Several beatings and two murders happened in 1990. I was there for one of these. My friend Andre was killed by one of these groups. They decided to let me live because I was white. As you may understand, this pissed me off.
In the summer of 1990, and leading in to the fall, several houses and warehouses began to be burned to the ground. Suddenly the white surpremisists were getting beat something fierce. Their territory was shrinking. Two street level crews came to prominance downtown because of this. The DK and the Vanally Park Boys. The DK w2ere a bunch of pissed off disaffectedd youth influenced by a coupe of cultures. One was of course the NWA, public enemy sort of thing. The other was a punk culture. This anarchy laiden thing.
Anyway, violance insued as they fought each other for dominance. When things looked like they could not be controlled, the Italians stepped back in and Backed the Boys. The DK went the way of the bikers, which was a bit natural given the family ties some members had.
Everyone was fighting with the Triads. The Triads had the entire heroin trade sewn up. The bikers had amphetemines and the Italians had coke.
By 1998 things had exploded. The Italians had nearly wiped out the DK. The two survivors...well three, scattered to the winds.
Most of the violance west of Yonge street was blamed on the Vanally Park Boys because they were always getting caught jacking grandma.
The ineter gang violance though was always between the surrogates, the Italians rarely got dirty. The bikers took a hands off approach, offering only cheap product and all the wweaponry an army needed.
Anyway, my knowledge of what happened between 1998 and 2008 is somewhat sketchy. Bits and pieces.
What I can tell you is that, anyone who thinks gay people are pussies is an idiot. Anyone who thinks serbian gangs are acting on their own knows nothing about who actually controls things.
Flash forward to today. I assure you scarborough is not controlled by black gangs. They are the tools of two people fighting it out on a national level.
The bikers and the Italians are at it again. My brother is a victrim of this to some extent. You see he was living a lie. A lie he couldn't live with anymore. He was playing both sides. No one knew he was old school biker tool. Her was partnered with the mob on his business ventures and the old school ties might have gotten him killed if anyone found out.
The point I am making is that the violance has a source. It rarely is what you think it is. The thing that causes this behaviour is always poverty, family disorder, abuse, and drugs. The players on the street level change, but it is always the poor and disaffected. They are used and abused by the organizedd crime factors in any given environment, just as they are in the military.
How many rich people do you think are infantry grunts? Same thing on the front lines of urban warfare.
The problem I had with what doucheman had to say is that he blamed all the violance on the lack of black fathers. Seriously, I am not kidding.
What hurts is that he is correct to a certain extent. Positive, strong male role modeling is one cause of the problem. Remove the need to prove oneself, to medicate oneself, the define oneself in a way that provides some center of control and esteem and you remove the canvas chicken hawks have to paint on.
It is the people who get rich of the crime of the streets; the ones who provide the set with the moral authroity to break the rules are the real problem.
There is no way to treat this problem by attacking the source of this misuse of our youth. The powerful will always protect themselves. What we need to do is remove the incentive and motivation of the youth.
We are far beyond blame at this point. Saying it is the fault of boys having children is to deny the reality that we as a society have the power to correct this.
If we provide the proper rolemodeling, we make a difference. Yelling at those who are not doing the job merely allows those that are providing it to continue to steal our youth. We say to a deadbeat dad, or an absentee, or abusive parent. We tell them that it is their fault. We tell them to step up. We rarely provide them the tools needed. All we do is make them feel worse.
While our eyes are diverted to a symptom of the problem, the chicken hawks swooop in and become the role models. The chicken hawks whisper in the ears of our youth that they can be strong and powerful, they just have to do everything they are told. Then daddy gives them some new toys to play with.
Where are the role models. Where are the real men and women who can step up? Where are the people who can give their time, their experience to our kids. They are our kids. Like it or not, we have them, and we need to do something with them.
All I heard this morning from a frightenedd little man was we need to blame bad parents and punsih the kids more harshly. At no point did this person take any responsibility for perpetuating a system the creates the poverty and socia disease that ferments in our youth. At no time did he step up and say, we need to do something. He merely said we need to blame everyone who doesn't look like us.
I suppose you can try treating cancer by cutting it out. Sooner or later it comes back. Until we develop a cure for it, we need to irradiate it, and we need to reduce carcinogen consumption.
We need to treat our kids as if they mkatter, and we need to step in front of them and show them there is a way; a better way.
Or we can just get a black man to say other black men are to blame. This should make us feel better until we can move out of the neighborhood.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Be careful what you wish for.
Well, apologies for that whole losing my mind yesterday. Not sure what I was thinking, but it is time to get back to the work of entertaining you and not me.
I don't wish to dwell on this, but a number of years ago, a few tools decided it was a good idea to crash some planes in to New York. You may have heard something about this, I think it was in the papers or something.
At the time, people went all nutso. I was living in Regina. If you do not know anything about Regina, it is that postage stamp looking thing in the middle of Canada you fly over going to somewhere that matters. The entire economy revolved around 4 things. Tractors, cows, Booze and call centers.
The day after the whole bad men doing evil thing, our boss ordered a controlled entry way along with bullet proof glass, a night security guard and a sophisticated alarm system. To give you some perspective, the over night girl had to change her name, move, take out several restraining orders and mace a man who was stalking her because of her position at the radio station. The man had showed up at work numerous times and got in numerous times, including through a known defective back door. The companies response to this very real threat was to advise her not to go out alone.
People lost it big time. A few days later some douche tried to sell terrorist insurance on the radio. I refused to air the commercial.
Anyway, my point is that people got very security conscious.
Many right wing lunapundits took the time to call for serious security. The government of the United States passed a number of bills and new lawws about security, removing many civil liberties.
Over several years, many lunapundits screamed about how lax security at air ports was. PROTECT OUR PEOPLE AND AIRWAYS they cried.
And thus, insane security measures were taken. Now we see the limits to how far people are willing to go.
Do racial profiling.
Do make us take off our shoes.
DO NOT TOUCH OUR JUNK!
This is not a rant on Mr. Tyner, the man who you can hear in any one of a thousand internet clips decrying his no fly zone.
This is in fact a rant against all the people who cried for more and more and more security. The people who failedd to notice as their liberties were being eroded. For all the people who sat by while people weere carted off and did not say anything. For all the rancorous douches who spew hate directed towards anyone named Ahmed or Habib. This is for all the crotchety old white men who are now freaking out that someone may finally check their luggage and claim they do not have to check it or even mark it as carry on.
All I have heard for the last week from the same people who brought you, toss em all in Gitmo is.....they`ve gone too far! That new, very unfortunitely name rapiscan that details the wrinkles on your man danglers or the folds in your well....witty seems lost here so I ill move on... As soon as it comes down to a beaurocrat in your pants it is all over.
Any ideas as to why they are this stringent now? I wonder if it has something to do with the underwear bomb thing from last year. Who knows. I mean, after the shoe bomber we had to take off our shoes, so it only makes sense.
The thing I find most interesting is that, save the fox new vixens (they really do not count here) I have not heard one woman complain. I have heard men yelp and scream about it. I have heard men worried about their daughter`s honour, but I have not heard a woman complain....well until this morning when one woman claimed her 11 year old daughter was felt up.
Maybe it is because women are used to handsy people. Myabe it is because women have, for so long put up with people messing about with their privates. Ask a woman who has to ride tthe subway how many times her ass gets grabbed. Ask a woman how often someone`s elbow gets to second base. I think the answer will shock you.
I am reminded of that most famous quote about sacrificing liberty for security.
Those chickens are coming home to roost people.
I am just disgusted by the number of people who waited to say something until they came for your penis.
You said nothing when they dragged your neighbour away. You said nothing when they tortured people. You said nothing when they broke all the rules and spied on us without cause.
But for the love of god, stay away from my manhood.
I feel ya Brah. I have never had a happy ending when a beaurocrat was handling my stuff, both figuratively and literally. I am sure this will be no different.
Next time, try saying don`t touch my rights instead of making about your man handle. You might get more sympathy from someone like me, who would have fought for you 5 yearts ago, but is too tired and amused to give a rat`s ass about your penis safety.
I don't wish to dwell on this, but a number of years ago, a few tools decided it was a good idea to crash some planes in to New York. You may have heard something about this, I think it was in the papers or something.
At the time, people went all nutso. I was living in Regina. If you do not know anything about Regina, it is that postage stamp looking thing in the middle of Canada you fly over going to somewhere that matters. The entire economy revolved around 4 things. Tractors, cows, Booze and call centers.
The day after the whole bad men doing evil thing, our boss ordered a controlled entry way along with bullet proof glass, a night security guard and a sophisticated alarm system. To give you some perspective, the over night girl had to change her name, move, take out several restraining orders and mace a man who was stalking her because of her position at the radio station. The man had showed up at work numerous times and got in numerous times, including through a known defective back door. The companies response to this very real threat was to advise her not to go out alone.
People lost it big time. A few days later some douche tried to sell terrorist insurance on the radio. I refused to air the commercial.
Anyway, my point is that people got very security conscious.
Many right wing lunapundits took the time to call for serious security. The government of the United States passed a number of bills and new lawws about security, removing many civil liberties.
Over several years, many lunapundits screamed about how lax security at air ports was. PROTECT OUR PEOPLE AND AIRWAYS they cried.
And thus, insane security measures were taken. Now we see the limits to how far people are willing to go.
Do racial profiling.
Do make us take off our shoes.
DO NOT TOUCH OUR JUNK!
This is not a rant on Mr. Tyner, the man who you can hear in any one of a thousand internet clips decrying his no fly zone.
This is in fact a rant against all the people who cried for more and more and more security. The people who failedd to notice as their liberties were being eroded. For all the people who sat by while people weere carted off and did not say anything. For all the rancorous douches who spew hate directed towards anyone named Ahmed or Habib. This is for all the crotchety old white men who are now freaking out that someone may finally check their luggage and claim they do not have to check it or even mark it as carry on.
All I have heard for the last week from the same people who brought you, toss em all in Gitmo is.....they`ve gone too far! That new, very unfortunitely name rapiscan that details the wrinkles on your man danglers or the folds in your well....witty seems lost here so I ill move on... As soon as it comes down to a beaurocrat in your pants it is all over.
Any ideas as to why they are this stringent now? I wonder if it has something to do with the underwear bomb thing from last year. Who knows. I mean, after the shoe bomber we had to take off our shoes, so it only makes sense.
The thing I find most interesting is that, save the fox new vixens (they really do not count here) I have not heard one woman complain. I have heard men yelp and scream about it. I have heard men worried about their daughter`s honour, but I have not heard a woman complain....well until this morning when one woman claimed her 11 year old daughter was felt up.
Maybe it is because women are used to handsy people. Myabe it is because women have, for so long put up with people messing about with their privates. Ask a woman who has to ride tthe subway how many times her ass gets grabbed. Ask a woman how often someone`s elbow gets to second base. I think the answer will shock you.
I am reminded of that most famous quote about sacrificing liberty for security.
Those chickens are coming home to roost people.
I am just disgusted by the number of people who waited to say something until they came for your penis.
You said nothing when they dragged your neighbour away. You said nothing when they tortured people. You said nothing when they broke all the rules and spied on us without cause.
But for the love of god, stay away from my manhood.
I feel ya Brah. I have never had a happy ending when a beaurocrat was handling my stuff, both figuratively and literally. I am sure this will be no different.
Next time, try saying don`t touch my rights instead of making about your man handle. You might get more sympathy from someone like me, who would have fought for you 5 yearts ago, but is too tired and amused to give a rat`s ass about your penis safety.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Taking off my shirt.
Do you know what you mean to me? I have tried so many times to explain it, but it never comes out right.
I have tried so many times. I have started, then stopped. But from the moment I first met you I have felt odd. The world has seemed something different and unrecognizable. It is almost like this haze has decended and surrounded me. It permeats my soul and clouds my vision. It makes everything different.
I used to know what the world was, and where things were headed. I had a trajectory. Plans. Ideas. Hopes. But none of it felt right when I met you. It all evaporated when you first looked at me. Maybe your aura split my self apart because of the arcing light. You splintered my shell, shatteredd my defenses and left me raw and open for the first time.
It is one of those meetings that really means nothing at the time. Nothing is memorable about it. The place smelled bad. The atmosphere was rushed, and kind of dank, in the sense that you could feel the lame oozing off of the dumb on lookers. None of them could have understood that at that moment, I felt as if the world changed forever. Nothing would ever be the ssame. Words changedd their meaning. Things I used to know no longer meant what they meant.
I say these high minded, romantic....sappy, stupid things. I say them, not because I think they will work, but rather because they need to be said. I know it matters little to you. It never has. You aren't the kind of person who falls for lines like these, written by guys like me. I hope you understand why, in all else your feelings matter, but in this, I don't give a shit. I would move the earth, do an impression of Zues to make you feel better, but this one time and place, I need to confront you. I need to challenge you.
I have to tell you that I could spend the rest of my life merely sitting next to you holding your hand. I could just stare up at the stars and shoot the shit, and I would be happy. Happier than I have ever been.
It seems odd to me that silence with you is better than talking with anyone else in the world. And I love to talk.
Writing means nothing if you aren't reading it.
Laughter is pointless if it isn't coming out of your lovely mouth.
Talking with you is heaven. It is the definition of all that makes sense and is appealing in the world.
When we talked of other places we would rather be, and discussed being there together, my heart felt the truth of it.
I know it meant something different to you than it did to me, but it still felt right. Throwing it all away, the plans the hopes, would be an easy thing to do, as long as I knew I was doing it for you.
No one understands why we are connected, and to some extent I don't understand it either. I don't know why I can't let go. I don't know why every time I try and walk away I stumble and fall. Why can't I say good bye?
I do not understand why you of all people hold the keys to my hear....the puppet stings. If you say dance, I dance. And I do not dance....ever. You think I danced like a transvestite because I wanted to? I did it merely because you wanted me to.
I torture us, and I don't want to do this.
I could sit here and tell you how beautiful you are, but what will that accomplish? In the end, when I look at you, I see an angel. I see a glow, a flame that never dies. Your beauty doesn't matter because it is simply a mortal aspect of an immortal sense of who you are.
I know that us is almost impossible. It doesn't make much sense when you think about it with your head, but I don't think about it with my head. I think about it with my heart, and the reality of that is that the heart can make anything real. It can make anything possible.
Nothing in this world that iis worth anything is easy, and this isn't.
I cherish you, and every moment with you. I am willing to do anything for you.
I have told you that before, but now I actually understand what it means. I understand sacrifice. I understand difficulty. I understand hardship. I know what I have to do.
I know what I want to do, and if you will have me, I will do it all.
I will make it work, because there is something magical about you, and something magical about the time we spend together. It just always feels right.
I guess there is nothing left to say. Tell me what to do, and I will do it.
Understand that this is never going to change. We can never go back, but we can be brave and go forward. We can be strong and say, it is worth it to try. It is worth it to say, screw the wrongs, let's hold on to what is right. Let us build on what is right and make it perfect.
What do I have to do?
What do I have to do to earn your love, and if I can't win your love, what do I have to do?
You can run and hide, but we both deserve more than that. We deserve to fix this, both of us.
Don't run away, don't turn away. Say what you need to say.
I owe you everything, and all you owe me is honesty and an answer.
I went out and found myself. I worked on me to get better, smarter, stronger, faster. I cleaned out my closet, and now I stand before you, naked and alone. I have no armor. I have no defenses. I have no need to lie to you. Ask me all, and the truth will be yours.
What do I have to do?
I have tried so many times. I have started, then stopped. But from the moment I first met you I have felt odd. The world has seemed something different and unrecognizable. It is almost like this haze has decended and surrounded me. It permeats my soul and clouds my vision. It makes everything different.
I used to know what the world was, and where things were headed. I had a trajectory. Plans. Ideas. Hopes. But none of it felt right when I met you. It all evaporated when you first looked at me. Maybe your aura split my self apart because of the arcing light. You splintered my shell, shatteredd my defenses and left me raw and open for the first time.
It is one of those meetings that really means nothing at the time. Nothing is memorable about it. The place smelled bad. The atmosphere was rushed, and kind of dank, in the sense that you could feel the lame oozing off of the dumb on lookers. None of them could have understood that at that moment, I felt as if the world changed forever. Nothing would ever be the ssame. Words changedd their meaning. Things I used to know no longer meant what they meant.
I say these high minded, romantic....sappy, stupid things. I say them, not because I think they will work, but rather because they need to be said. I know it matters little to you. It never has. You aren't the kind of person who falls for lines like these, written by guys like me. I hope you understand why, in all else your feelings matter, but in this, I don't give a shit. I would move the earth, do an impression of Zues to make you feel better, but this one time and place, I need to confront you. I need to challenge you.
I have to tell you that I could spend the rest of my life merely sitting next to you holding your hand. I could just stare up at the stars and shoot the shit, and I would be happy. Happier than I have ever been.
It seems odd to me that silence with you is better than talking with anyone else in the world. And I love to talk.
Writing means nothing if you aren't reading it.
Laughter is pointless if it isn't coming out of your lovely mouth.
Talking with you is heaven. It is the definition of all that makes sense and is appealing in the world.
When we talked of other places we would rather be, and discussed being there together, my heart felt the truth of it.
I know it meant something different to you than it did to me, but it still felt right. Throwing it all away, the plans the hopes, would be an easy thing to do, as long as I knew I was doing it for you.
No one understands why we are connected, and to some extent I don't understand it either. I don't know why I can't let go. I don't know why every time I try and walk away I stumble and fall. Why can't I say good bye?
I do not understand why you of all people hold the keys to my hear....the puppet stings. If you say dance, I dance. And I do not dance....ever. You think I danced like a transvestite because I wanted to? I did it merely because you wanted me to.
I torture us, and I don't want to do this.
I could sit here and tell you how beautiful you are, but what will that accomplish? In the end, when I look at you, I see an angel. I see a glow, a flame that never dies. Your beauty doesn't matter because it is simply a mortal aspect of an immortal sense of who you are.
I know that us is almost impossible. It doesn't make much sense when you think about it with your head, but I don't think about it with my head. I think about it with my heart, and the reality of that is that the heart can make anything real. It can make anything possible.
Nothing in this world that iis worth anything is easy, and this isn't.
I cherish you, and every moment with you. I am willing to do anything for you.
I have told you that before, but now I actually understand what it means. I understand sacrifice. I understand difficulty. I understand hardship. I know what I have to do.
I know what I want to do, and if you will have me, I will do it all.
I will make it work, because there is something magical about you, and something magical about the time we spend together. It just always feels right.
I guess there is nothing left to say. Tell me what to do, and I will do it.
Understand that this is never going to change. We can never go back, but we can be brave and go forward. We can be strong and say, it is worth it to try. It is worth it to say, screw the wrongs, let's hold on to what is right. Let us build on what is right and make it perfect.
What do I have to do?
What do I have to do to earn your love, and if I can't win your love, what do I have to do?
You can run and hide, but we both deserve more than that. We deserve to fix this, both of us.
Don't run away, don't turn away. Say what you need to say.
I owe you everything, and all you owe me is honesty and an answer.
I went out and found myself. I worked on me to get better, smarter, stronger, faster. I cleaned out my closet, and now I stand before you, naked and alone. I have no armor. I have no defenses. I have no need to lie to you. Ask me all, and the truth will be yours.
What do I have to do?
The Thing We Feared
I have fought myself on this blog entry a few times so far. I am in a weird headspace where I have a real issue with words.
Have you ever had something to say, but not the words to say it?
That is exactly where I am right now. I have something I really really want to say. I have absolutely no idea how to say it. But there is something much much worse than that. I have no idea whether or not I should say it.
I have long maintained that I am not the kind of person that lives in fear. Anyone who knows me, this is a complete lie.
Sure, I am not the least bit afraid of actually dieing or of any man on the planet. The thing I think about is that no one can take anything away from me that I cannot afford to loose, so I do not fear violance. I have spent so much time immersed in it that it no longer holds any place in my head that I cannot control. I think it is because once you have felt pain, you know what it can be, you know how bad things can get, so you tend to fear it less. As soon as you define something, you put parameters on it. Once you have a handle on what the worst is, you know what you can handle or take.
In case you are wondering, the worst pain in the world for me has been my head. Close second though was tooth pain.
There is pain I am afraid of. But I will not say what it is...at least not in easy to understand words. Yep, I am gonna write in code. Good luck deciphering it.
I fear emtipness. The reason I have avoided death is because I am afraid of nothingness. This is the exact reason why I am log jammed right now.
I am afraid of that void in your heart where someone usedd to reside.
I have felt every type of loss you could ever describe or quantify. I know what pain hurts the most in regards to empty. When you loose a piece of your heart you cannot replace it.
Like all people, I yearn to fill my heart with the presence of another. Some of us hide it, or pretend it is of less importance than it is.
I met two people today who brought this in to sharp focus.
The first is a young man who just broke up with his long time girlfriend. They have a child together and he is now in a lot of pain. He is a balls out kind of guy, so of course he is not claiming to be in any kind of pain. In fact he is the oposite. He claims to be enjoying one of his roommates, in the bibical sense. He is proud of being an asshole right now. He is doing this from a center of pain.
The other person I met today is me, 10 years ago. He is infatuated with a young lady. He is her friend, and he loves her. He is just a nice guy, but he couldn't close the deal. This was because of the fear. He did not want to feel the loss so he avoided it, until it was too late, and now, as I type this, the poor guy is having the talk. He is sitting down with her and explaining his position.
I know I said this is the me of 10 years ago, but that isn't true. I just did this a year ago. And I am doing it now.
There is so much I have to say, but I do not have to words. I am scared. I am in fear for my heart. In part I am feeling on the edge, like I can't take any more pain.
I wonder why we put ourselves in these places where we can be hurt. The only thing that can hurt you is something that you let hurt you. In a sense, only someone you let in can actually do any damage to you. If you do not care, then there can be no pain or loss.
Anyway, I am no longer sure what my point was. It had something to do with being a pansy ass scaredy cat. I have been down this road before, but this time feels different. Something has changed, but I am not sure what is different. Maybe it is me. Maybe I am confident, maybe I am insane, but something is different and I want to take a chance, but fear is giving me romantic block and that is not good.
Someway, some how, I need to say these things. Then I need to adjust my friend's list and see how it goes.
I just wish I knew if I was on to something, or I was just crazy.
Have you ever had something to say, but not the words to say it?
That is exactly where I am right now. I have something I really really want to say. I have absolutely no idea how to say it. But there is something much much worse than that. I have no idea whether or not I should say it.
I have long maintained that I am not the kind of person that lives in fear. Anyone who knows me, this is a complete lie.
Sure, I am not the least bit afraid of actually dieing or of any man on the planet. The thing I think about is that no one can take anything away from me that I cannot afford to loose, so I do not fear violance. I have spent so much time immersed in it that it no longer holds any place in my head that I cannot control. I think it is because once you have felt pain, you know what it can be, you know how bad things can get, so you tend to fear it less. As soon as you define something, you put parameters on it. Once you have a handle on what the worst is, you know what you can handle or take.
In case you are wondering, the worst pain in the world for me has been my head. Close second though was tooth pain.
There is pain I am afraid of. But I will not say what it is...at least not in easy to understand words. Yep, I am gonna write in code. Good luck deciphering it.
I fear emtipness. The reason I have avoided death is because I am afraid of nothingness. This is the exact reason why I am log jammed right now.
I am afraid of that void in your heart where someone usedd to reside.
I have felt every type of loss you could ever describe or quantify. I know what pain hurts the most in regards to empty. When you loose a piece of your heart you cannot replace it.
Like all people, I yearn to fill my heart with the presence of another. Some of us hide it, or pretend it is of less importance than it is.
I met two people today who brought this in to sharp focus.
The first is a young man who just broke up with his long time girlfriend. They have a child together and he is now in a lot of pain. He is a balls out kind of guy, so of course he is not claiming to be in any kind of pain. In fact he is the oposite. He claims to be enjoying one of his roommates, in the bibical sense. He is proud of being an asshole right now. He is doing this from a center of pain.
The other person I met today is me, 10 years ago. He is infatuated with a young lady. He is her friend, and he loves her. He is just a nice guy, but he couldn't close the deal. This was because of the fear. He did not want to feel the loss so he avoided it, until it was too late, and now, as I type this, the poor guy is having the talk. He is sitting down with her and explaining his position.
I know I said this is the me of 10 years ago, but that isn't true. I just did this a year ago. And I am doing it now.
There is so much I have to say, but I do not have to words. I am scared. I am in fear for my heart. In part I am feeling on the edge, like I can't take any more pain.
I wonder why we put ourselves in these places where we can be hurt. The only thing that can hurt you is something that you let hurt you. In a sense, only someone you let in can actually do any damage to you. If you do not care, then there can be no pain or loss.
Anyway, I am no longer sure what my point was. It had something to do with being a pansy ass scaredy cat. I have been down this road before, but this time feels different. Something has changed, but I am not sure what is different. Maybe it is me. Maybe I am confident, maybe I am insane, but something is different and I want to take a chance, but fear is giving me romantic block and that is not good.
Someway, some how, I need to say these things. Then I need to adjust my friend's list and see how it goes.
I just wish I knew if I was on to something, or I was just crazy.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Housekeeping.
Feel free to say that in the stereotype way if it makes you feel better.
So this is my mandatory blog about not blogging. It is fortold that all bloggers shall, once a year, blog about not blogging. So sayeth the internet, so sayeth the code.
So, it is no surprise to anyone who can read a calander, which as I understand it now includes my ffriend Alison, everyone clap for the lovely Alison and her new skill, I have not been updating my blog much since the advent of working me. Don't see this as a bad thing, merely as a now he can afford to eat thing.
I took the first week off because I was tired, but now I am in the swing of things and know what kind of freedom I have, and what kind of time constraints are going to be on me.
I may not be able to blog everyday like I was for the last month and a half, but I am reasonably confident I will be able to blog often.
I have also decided I need some more value added. To that end, I am going to be posting a song of the day andf message of the day each day on my facebook....the one monkey one.
At the end of the end of the week I will compile them and add a podcast of the week and post it all here.
I just decided that it would be fun to share some of my inspirations and whatnot with you.
The plan is to become a bit more useful and broad in appeal, so that is where I am going to begin.
The internet writing project will recommence this weekend as well.
So this is my mandatory blog about not blogging. It is fortold that all bloggers shall, once a year, blog about not blogging. So sayeth the internet, so sayeth the code.
So, it is no surprise to anyone who can read a calander, which as I understand it now includes my ffriend Alison, everyone clap for the lovely Alison and her new skill, I have not been updating my blog much since the advent of working me. Don't see this as a bad thing, merely as a now he can afford to eat thing.
I took the first week off because I was tired, but now I am in the swing of things and know what kind of freedom I have, and what kind of time constraints are going to be on me.
I may not be able to blog everyday like I was for the last month and a half, but I am reasonably confident I will be able to blog often.
I have also decided I need some more value added. To that end, I am going to be posting a song of the day andf message of the day each day on my facebook....the one monkey one.
At the end of the end of the week I will compile them and add a podcast of the week and post it all here.
I just decided that it would be fun to share some of my inspirations and whatnot with you.
The plan is to become a bit more useful and broad in appeal, so that is where I am going to begin.
The internet writing project will recommence this weekend as well.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Give it away now
What I got you gotta get it, put it in you.
Startin this one off with the musical interlude. For those that, for whatever reason, fail to remember the early 90's, that is the red hot chili peppers, prior to learning to play their intruments. I say that with some degree of affection, since I did in fact enjoy the album. I liked it so much that I eeven ordered it from Columbia House....ok truth is Reginald P. Ness Ordered it from Columbia House, but you get the point. It really is a wonder they stayed in business as long as they did, or that for some reason, Warner Bros. has decided to use the same business model again for orde4ring dvd's.
I don't want to go off on a tangent here, but.... Dear Warner Bros., your refusal to change your business model in light of new media and emerging revenue streams is the death nell of your company....that and doing movies like Cop Out. Physical media is somewhat outdated, and if like Blockbuster, you refuse to see it, you are in fact doing your shareholders a disservice. Please understand,for the next 10-15 years, people like my parents will continue to seek out old formats as that is all they know, but eventually they will be replaced by their children. Generation X eats new media and craps out diamonds....if you understand how to tap that ass.
You see, each subsequint generatrion will seek out the new media. Generation X, soon to be the dominant generation in the market place are the pioneers of internet content. Generation Y has always known the internet, and Generation Next has never lived without you tube.
We do not want your plastic earth killers, and we certainly don't give a crap about your scheduled television and your $8 popcorn. The sooner you get with the program, the sooner we will all be snug and making each other money.
Continuing to listten to Harvard MBA`s who learned from dead white guys how to do business is not the wave of the future.
X and Y were the early adopters of TiVo. They were the ones holding the camera for Steve-O. We are the ones that made lolcats and the meme a reality.
But I digress. The issue I am here to talk about is the new content, the new media, the new business model.
In a sense, it is the George Lucas school of economics. Screw the box office, show me the lunch box money! Content is shifting to free. More and more it becomes a ridiculous battle to fight it. Creative Commons is the wave of the future, and not understanding how it works, and why people are in to it is a mistake.
Think about it this way, I can either pay you 20 bucks to go see your movie, or I can watch a bunch of nobodies do someething similar for free. I can pay 50 bucks to go to a Dane Cook concert, or I can listen to a free podcast.
I can pay you 16.99 for a cd of music, or I can go to a local club, pay 5 bucks and hear the same thing.
Think of the internet as a local club. I can now interact with anyone and everyone, and I can hear their stuff.
This is no different than what was going on in the school yard. I remember clearly the day I went to school and told everyone about how cool this record of Bill Cosby was. Then I brought all my friends over to listen to it. Then we went to the local record store and bought more.
The internet is the new school yard. We are sharing the stuff we think is cool with each other. Wanting to cap that, control it and monetize it is as ridiculous as it would have been for you to send hired goons to my school to beat me up.
Content is no longer something people wish to pay for in the old fashion. We like to know what we are buying.
Here`s why.
When my friend Chris and I went to that record store, we picked up three things. A Frantics tape. A Monty Pythin Tape, and an Emo Philips tape.
To this day, I have that same Frantics material (only now it is a digital copy on my harddrive), and I can quote every single routine from the Monty Python tape.
I wish Emo physical harm.
I hated it. With a passion. I hated it so much I played it about 50 times for my parents because I knew they hated it. The only joy I got out of it was annoying people. Think of it as the original Rick Roll. Get in the car for a long drive, hand tape to parents and say, oh this is really good stuff, you are going to like it. Die of laughter.
Your product being a torture device is not a good thing. Because I wasted what little money I had on that stupid tape, I was angry. I was angry at Emo, I was angry at Capitol Records, and I have been angry ever since.
Lesson learned is, try it before you buy it. Not only that, but, why waste money on something I might like? Better to spend that money on something I know I like.
I would have rather purchased a Bill Cosby tshirt. I would have rather gone to a Bill Cosby concert than have spent the money on that Emo tape.
You jaded me. And now you want to take away my opurtunity to test drive my entertainment. I think not.
People can get content in any number of ways. Your decision to limit content, rather than understanding the new way to mentize.
Here are some great examples from people who have harnassed the power of the new media.
Kevin Smith and the smodcast network.
They provide a plethora of greta entertainment for free. They also provide some entertainment, bonus stuff for pay. You want more of this, go buy something from one of our advertisers and you get a free bonus podcast. They have show sponsors. They do a two or three minute commercial at the begining of the show, and then that's it. If I want the extras, I have to pay. It is a good system. TRhey also made a live venue where you can pay to watch them record the podcasts. I am not sure if it is working out for him, but it is a great idea, and something that should be encouragedd to more people. I would pay to go, if I lived in the area. I also pay for all sorts of Smith mechandise.
Wil Wheaton. The Wheaton gives free samples of his work. Like what you hear? Go buy it. Again, he provides extras for his paying customers, but does not screw over how audience in the process. The beauty of this system is that if I don't think I am going to like it, I don't have to buy it. I am still a Wil Wheaton fan, and in the future, if he puts out something I do like, I will buy it. Had I purchased something from him, not liked, I would most likely never interact with him again. How much money do you think I spent on Emo after that first album? What you want is a free pass to put out shit content, force me to purchase it, and then pcket the money. I never ever ever again want to walk out of a theatre, having spent nearly 30 bucks saying, "wow, that sucked." No one but the makers of crap want that.
Felicia Day. Felicia is the producer of the ground breaking show The Guild. This is a web based program. It is free to watch. Now that I have money, I fully intend to purchase some guild swag. I like what I see and I want more of it, so please, let me know how to get more. One of the ways they monetize is by getting sponsors. These sponsors get a short commercial at the begining of an episode and a wackload of banner ads.
Chris Hardwick of G4. This guy produces a weekly podcast. It is funny...called the Nerdist podcast btw, and see what he does is gives me this really cool thing for free, then promotes his live shows....which cost money. I would go to one of those shows, if they were anywhere near me. I would gladly go because I know I am going to like it.
So many times I have been burned by crap I just haven't liked. I harken back to the name of one of my favourite albums. NOFX, I heard they suck live. Because I knwo they do not, I will pay to see them. I will not pay to see other crap live. Just not going to happen.
You want to know why I gave away my tv and refuse to pay for cable? Because I don't feel it is worth the money.
I have reached my threshold of what I am willing to pay for, and the crap you make me watch isn't worth it. Give me good entertainment and I will sit through a commercial every 10 minutes....1 damn commercial mind you, not 5 minutes of them. When did commercials become the content? You understand that the instant the commercials became better than the shows was the instant most people with a brain tuned out right?
You want to make money, you need to follow the trend, not fight it tooth and nail. You need to be reminded of the fact that people are willing to pay for that which they deem worth it.
The crap you feed us is not worth paying for. You have two options. Make better stuff or have me arrested for downloading it. You can find a way to make money off me. I am not that hard to find, and lord knows my wallet doesn't require hacking to get in to.
It requires ingenuity. It requires creativity, and most of all it requires entertaining me. There is a vast difference between filling an empty hole in space time and providing a valuable product or service.
If the choice is between watching CSI Moose Jaw and listening to Smodcast, guess what I am going to do? If the choice is between free chance I might like something and 30 dollar chance, I am going to choose free chance every damn time.
Think of it this way, when you are playing monopoly and you land on chance, the banker doesn't charge you 50 bucks to pick upm the chance card, you just pick it up.
Want me to pay for something? Make sure I am going to like it. Or, do like the drug dealers do, hey, if you liked that you need to try this, or you need to pay for the extra bump. A free show once a week might be worth my entertainment dollars....in the form of merchandising, concerts, donations, advertising dollars spent.
What are you afraid of?
Having to actually make something worth the money we spend on it?
Ok, so this was supposed to be me bitching about people bitching about people who bitch about free stuff, but I got rolling and couldn't stop. Before congress in the United States is a bill that would seriously regulate content on the internet. It would allow copyright holders to permanantly delete websites from the internetwhen the content is counter to their business interests. This is a huge mistake. It takes content management out of the hands of consumers and gives it to producers. This is exactly what happened to television. When faced with certain choices, we can't help but take the lesser of two evils. We settle for inferior because the choice is between unwatchable and mediocre.
Rather than define content narrowly, we need to redefine what consumer means. So many people are coming up with ways to monetize their content without compromising it, or the consumer's access to it. Perhaps we should allow progress, rather than allow people with outdated modes of doing things to control how the future unfolds.
On demand, file sharing, podcasting, blogging and all the other web based content is not a fad. Nature finds a way, it always does, and our nature is to share and be likedd by our peers. You can force it underground if you want, but it is not going away.
Startin this one off with the musical interlude. For those that, for whatever reason, fail to remember the early 90's, that is the red hot chili peppers, prior to learning to play their intruments. I say that with some degree of affection, since I did in fact enjoy the album. I liked it so much that I eeven ordered it from Columbia House....ok truth is Reginald P. Ness Ordered it from Columbia House, but you get the point. It really is a wonder they stayed in business as long as they did, or that for some reason, Warner Bros. has decided to use the same business model again for orde4ring dvd's.
I don't want to go off on a tangent here, but.... Dear Warner Bros., your refusal to change your business model in light of new media and emerging revenue streams is the death nell of your company....that and doing movies like Cop Out. Physical media is somewhat outdated, and if like Blockbuster, you refuse to see it, you are in fact doing your shareholders a disservice. Please understand,for the next 10-15 years, people like my parents will continue to seek out old formats as that is all they know, but eventually they will be replaced by their children. Generation X eats new media and craps out diamonds....if you understand how to tap that ass.
You see, each subsequint generatrion will seek out the new media. Generation X, soon to be the dominant generation in the market place are the pioneers of internet content. Generation Y has always known the internet, and Generation Next has never lived without you tube.
We do not want your plastic earth killers, and we certainly don't give a crap about your scheduled television and your $8 popcorn. The sooner you get with the program, the sooner we will all be snug and making each other money.
Continuing to listten to Harvard MBA`s who learned from dead white guys how to do business is not the wave of the future.
X and Y were the early adopters of TiVo. They were the ones holding the camera for Steve-O. We are the ones that made lolcats and the meme a reality.
But I digress. The issue I am here to talk about is the new content, the new media, the new business model.
In a sense, it is the George Lucas school of economics. Screw the box office, show me the lunch box money! Content is shifting to free. More and more it becomes a ridiculous battle to fight it. Creative Commons is the wave of the future, and not understanding how it works, and why people are in to it is a mistake.
Think about it this way, I can either pay you 20 bucks to go see your movie, or I can watch a bunch of nobodies do someething similar for free. I can pay 50 bucks to go to a Dane Cook concert, or I can listen to a free podcast.
I can pay you 16.99 for a cd of music, or I can go to a local club, pay 5 bucks and hear the same thing.
Think of the internet as a local club. I can now interact with anyone and everyone, and I can hear their stuff.
This is no different than what was going on in the school yard. I remember clearly the day I went to school and told everyone about how cool this record of Bill Cosby was. Then I brought all my friends over to listen to it. Then we went to the local record store and bought more.
The internet is the new school yard. We are sharing the stuff we think is cool with each other. Wanting to cap that, control it and monetize it is as ridiculous as it would have been for you to send hired goons to my school to beat me up.
Content is no longer something people wish to pay for in the old fashion. We like to know what we are buying.
Here`s why.
When my friend Chris and I went to that record store, we picked up three things. A Frantics tape. A Monty Pythin Tape, and an Emo Philips tape.
To this day, I have that same Frantics material (only now it is a digital copy on my harddrive), and I can quote every single routine from the Monty Python tape.
I wish Emo physical harm.
I hated it. With a passion. I hated it so much I played it about 50 times for my parents because I knew they hated it. The only joy I got out of it was annoying people. Think of it as the original Rick Roll. Get in the car for a long drive, hand tape to parents and say, oh this is really good stuff, you are going to like it. Die of laughter.
Your product being a torture device is not a good thing. Because I wasted what little money I had on that stupid tape, I was angry. I was angry at Emo, I was angry at Capitol Records, and I have been angry ever since.
Lesson learned is, try it before you buy it. Not only that, but, why waste money on something I might like? Better to spend that money on something I know I like.
I would have rather purchased a Bill Cosby tshirt. I would have rather gone to a Bill Cosby concert than have spent the money on that Emo tape.
You jaded me. And now you want to take away my opurtunity to test drive my entertainment. I think not.
People can get content in any number of ways. Your decision to limit content, rather than understanding the new way to mentize.
Here are some great examples from people who have harnassed the power of the new media.
Kevin Smith and the smodcast network.
They provide a plethora of greta entertainment for free. They also provide some entertainment, bonus stuff for pay. You want more of this, go buy something from one of our advertisers and you get a free bonus podcast. They have show sponsors. They do a two or three minute commercial at the begining of the show, and then that's it. If I want the extras, I have to pay. It is a good system. TRhey also made a live venue where you can pay to watch them record the podcasts. I am not sure if it is working out for him, but it is a great idea, and something that should be encouragedd to more people. I would pay to go, if I lived in the area. I also pay for all sorts of Smith mechandise.
Wil Wheaton. The Wheaton gives free samples of his work. Like what you hear? Go buy it. Again, he provides extras for his paying customers, but does not screw over how audience in the process. The beauty of this system is that if I don't think I am going to like it, I don't have to buy it. I am still a Wil Wheaton fan, and in the future, if he puts out something I do like, I will buy it. Had I purchased something from him, not liked, I would most likely never interact with him again. How much money do you think I spent on Emo after that first album? What you want is a free pass to put out shit content, force me to purchase it, and then pcket the money. I never ever ever again want to walk out of a theatre, having spent nearly 30 bucks saying, "wow, that sucked." No one but the makers of crap want that.
Felicia Day. Felicia is the producer of the ground breaking show The Guild. This is a web based program. It is free to watch. Now that I have money, I fully intend to purchase some guild swag. I like what I see and I want more of it, so please, let me know how to get more. One of the ways they monetize is by getting sponsors. These sponsors get a short commercial at the begining of an episode and a wackload of banner ads.
Chris Hardwick of G4. This guy produces a weekly podcast. It is funny...called the Nerdist podcast btw, and see what he does is gives me this really cool thing for free, then promotes his live shows....which cost money. I would go to one of those shows, if they were anywhere near me. I would gladly go because I know I am going to like it.
So many times I have been burned by crap I just haven't liked. I harken back to the name of one of my favourite albums. NOFX, I heard they suck live. Because I knwo they do not, I will pay to see them. I will not pay to see other crap live. Just not going to happen.
You want to know why I gave away my tv and refuse to pay for cable? Because I don't feel it is worth the money.
I have reached my threshold of what I am willing to pay for, and the crap you make me watch isn't worth it. Give me good entertainment and I will sit through a commercial every 10 minutes....1 damn commercial mind you, not 5 minutes of them. When did commercials become the content? You understand that the instant the commercials became better than the shows was the instant most people with a brain tuned out right?
You want to make money, you need to follow the trend, not fight it tooth and nail. You need to be reminded of the fact that people are willing to pay for that which they deem worth it.
The crap you feed us is not worth paying for. You have two options. Make better stuff or have me arrested for downloading it. You can find a way to make money off me. I am not that hard to find, and lord knows my wallet doesn't require hacking to get in to.
It requires ingenuity. It requires creativity, and most of all it requires entertaining me. There is a vast difference between filling an empty hole in space time and providing a valuable product or service.
If the choice is between watching CSI Moose Jaw and listening to Smodcast, guess what I am going to do? If the choice is between free chance I might like something and 30 dollar chance, I am going to choose free chance every damn time.
Think of it this way, when you are playing monopoly and you land on chance, the banker doesn't charge you 50 bucks to pick upm the chance card, you just pick it up.
Want me to pay for something? Make sure I am going to like it. Or, do like the drug dealers do, hey, if you liked that you need to try this, or you need to pay for the extra bump. A free show once a week might be worth my entertainment dollars....in the form of merchandising, concerts, donations, advertising dollars spent.
What are you afraid of?
Having to actually make something worth the money we spend on it?
Ok, so this was supposed to be me bitching about people bitching about people who bitch about free stuff, but I got rolling and couldn't stop. Before congress in the United States is a bill that would seriously regulate content on the internet. It would allow copyright holders to permanantly delete websites from the internetwhen the content is counter to their business interests. This is a huge mistake. It takes content management out of the hands of consumers and gives it to producers. This is exactly what happened to television. When faced with certain choices, we can't help but take the lesser of two evils. We settle for inferior because the choice is between unwatchable and mediocre.
Rather than define content narrowly, we need to redefine what consumer means. So many people are coming up with ways to monetize their content without compromising it, or the consumer's access to it. Perhaps we should allow progress, rather than allow people with outdated modes of doing things to control how the future unfolds.
On demand, file sharing, podcasting, blogging and all the other web based content is not a fad. Nature finds a way, it always does, and our nature is to share and be likedd by our peers. You can force it underground if you want, but it is not going away.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
200 million dollars a day.
I recently had a conversation with one of my friends about stupidity. It should be pointed out that both of us are the type of person who, on our worst day of narcissism will call ourselves average; however, most of the tiume we consideer ourselves simple.
We got in to this discussion because so much has happened lately to show us that if we are average, than average is below average.
This is to say, that if we took iq tests, we would get between 90 and 110, but the vast majority of the population would score 65....which btw is technically retarded. Of course, this is not possible, since the iq test is a median test. It shows you in relation to the population. That means if the majority of people scored 70, that would be the average, and become the new 90-110.
For those playing at home, if you want to be sure that iq tests are ridiculous and meaningless, I have been tested twice. The first time I scored 65. Yes that makes me retarded. Yes indeed, you are reading the blog of a person who is by definition, incapable of forming complex thought streams and divining multiple connections and deeper meaning from experience.
The second time I scored 157. That would make me a theoritical physicist on par with Einstein....assuming Einstein is on par with Einstein, and not just a slightly smarter than averrage hair club for men patron who was smart enough to steal the ideas submitted to his patent office.
Anyway, long story short, we came to the conclusion that we are uncomfortable with how stupid people are currently.
It mostly comes down to critical thinking. I have previously intoned a rant about how lazy we are mentally, and that continues to be the norm when we talk about critical thinking skills. Having been in a school for internship last year, I can assure you we attempt to teach these critical thinking skills early. Whether or not they take is another story.
This morning I heard something on the radio that made me go....well for crying outloud you are being stupid.
I generally like to go to sleep listening to paranoid schizophrenia radio. The one drawback of this is that the station I listen to seems to have gone to the Foxnews school of broadcasting, instead of the industry standard, Broadcast News school of journalism....which by the way I went to.
So the story goes, a study shows that those who send more that 120 texts a day are far more likely to engage in sexual activity than those who send zero text messages a day.
NO SHIT!
So they spent the next hour on this station trying to convince parents that texting causes sexual promiscuity. These people are confusing cause and effect. A person who text messages a lot is a popular person. A social person. A person who does not text message is far more likely to be a person who has few friends, or is otherwise socially awkward. Guess which of those two is more likely to be having the sex?
Once again, symptom is confused with the underlying cause, and we run away with it because it is scary....not that sex is scary. I am on record as being very very very pro sex. I would be having sex right now if the option were available.
Ok, example number two comes from the actual Fox News. Seems that they decidedd that the American President is on a trip to India that is costing 200 million dollars a day. They have come up with all sorts of crazy ideas to fit this scenario, and people are buying in to it. Right now, 54% of americans polled believe this to be true.
It is in fact completely untrue and made up. Wanna know how I know? The war in Afghanastan costs america 190 million dollars a day.
Dispatching 34 naval vessels and an aircraaft carrier to cover the president's trip woul mean about 10% of the US navy was tasked with this....instead of watching the coasts, patroling the oceans and seas and what not.
Here's what happened. An Indian new outlet cited an anonymous source as saying that this is what it cost. One of tswo things happened here. Either that news outlet made up the story, or, and this is far more likely, they misprinted it. You see, 200 million worth of the Indian currency is approximately 4 million american dollars....which makes far more sense for a trip of this magnitude.
It should also be pointed out that, for the most part, all the shit they are talking about is standard presidential entourage.
Anyway, the point here is lack of critical thinking. No one thought to go...wait a sec, that seems a bit odd, or hey, I wonder why something is the way it is.
So often we are told what to think. We let others do the thinking for us because it seems so much easier. It is faster for us to let others tell us what to think so we can get back to thinking about Grey's anatomy and whether Snooki is going to do something stupid. Spoiler elert...she is....because she is stupid.
Tomorrow I am going to talk again about what passes for entertainment, but today, I am asking you to not take what is spoon fed to you. Always thinks about why something is the way it is, always think about causality, reasons, consequences. Nothing is linear, and nothing is the way it is for one reason only.
There is always deeper meaning behind human action and interaction, though I guess by deeper, I really mean broader, cause sometimes it is just about getting laid, or about borrowing your car, and not necessarily about your undying soul.
Yep, a cigar is just a cigar, but why am I smoking it?
In the end, if I can tell you anything about the world it is this.....I am probably just trying to sleep with you, fox just wants your dollars, aliens haven't been here cause they aren't on jersey shore, and for the love of god, if you don't get it, stop claiming to be smart.
We got in to this discussion because so much has happened lately to show us that if we are average, than average is below average.
This is to say, that if we took iq tests, we would get between 90 and 110, but the vast majority of the population would score 65....which btw is technically retarded. Of course, this is not possible, since the iq test is a median test. It shows you in relation to the population. That means if the majority of people scored 70, that would be the average, and become the new 90-110.
For those playing at home, if you want to be sure that iq tests are ridiculous and meaningless, I have been tested twice. The first time I scored 65. Yes that makes me retarded. Yes indeed, you are reading the blog of a person who is by definition, incapable of forming complex thought streams and divining multiple connections and deeper meaning from experience.
The second time I scored 157. That would make me a theoritical physicist on par with Einstein....assuming Einstein is on par with Einstein, and not just a slightly smarter than averrage hair club for men patron who was smart enough to steal the ideas submitted to his patent office.
Anyway, long story short, we came to the conclusion that we are uncomfortable with how stupid people are currently.
It mostly comes down to critical thinking. I have previously intoned a rant about how lazy we are mentally, and that continues to be the norm when we talk about critical thinking skills. Having been in a school for internship last year, I can assure you we attempt to teach these critical thinking skills early. Whether or not they take is another story.
This morning I heard something on the radio that made me go....well for crying outloud you are being stupid.
I generally like to go to sleep listening to paranoid schizophrenia radio. The one drawback of this is that the station I listen to seems to have gone to the Foxnews school of broadcasting, instead of the industry standard, Broadcast News school of journalism....which by the way I went to.
So the story goes, a study shows that those who send more that 120 texts a day are far more likely to engage in sexual activity than those who send zero text messages a day.
NO SHIT!
So they spent the next hour on this station trying to convince parents that texting causes sexual promiscuity. These people are confusing cause and effect. A person who text messages a lot is a popular person. A social person. A person who does not text message is far more likely to be a person who has few friends, or is otherwise socially awkward. Guess which of those two is more likely to be having the sex?
Once again, symptom is confused with the underlying cause, and we run away with it because it is scary....not that sex is scary. I am on record as being very very very pro sex. I would be having sex right now if the option were available.
Ok, example number two comes from the actual Fox News. Seems that they decidedd that the American President is on a trip to India that is costing 200 million dollars a day. They have come up with all sorts of crazy ideas to fit this scenario, and people are buying in to it. Right now, 54% of americans polled believe this to be true.
It is in fact completely untrue and made up. Wanna know how I know? The war in Afghanastan costs america 190 million dollars a day.
Dispatching 34 naval vessels and an aircraaft carrier to cover the president's trip woul mean about 10% of the US navy was tasked with this....instead of watching the coasts, patroling the oceans and seas and what not.
Here's what happened. An Indian new outlet cited an anonymous source as saying that this is what it cost. One of tswo things happened here. Either that news outlet made up the story, or, and this is far more likely, they misprinted it. You see, 200 million worth of the Indian currency is approximately 4 million american dollars....which makes far more sense for a trip of this magnitude.
It should also be pointed out that, for the most part, all the shit they are talking about is standard presidential entourage.
Anyway, the point here is lack of critical thinking. No one thought to go...wait a sec, that seems a bit odd, or hey, I wonder why something is the way it is.
So often we are told what to think. We let others do the thinking for us because it seems so much easier. It is faster for us to let others tell us what to think so we can get back to thinking about Grey's anatomy and whether Snooki is going to do something stupid. Spoiler elert...she is....because she is stupid.
Tomorrow I am going to talk again about what passes for entertainment, but today, I am asking you to not take what is spoon fed to you. Always thinks about why something is the way it is, always think about causality, reasons, consequences. Nothing is linear, and nothing is the way it is for one reason only.
There is always deeper meaning behind human action and interaction, though I guess by deeper, I really mean broader, cause sometimes it is just about getting laid, or about borrowing your car, and not necessarily about your undying soul.
Yep, a cigar is just a cigar, but why am I smoking it?
In the end, if I can tell you anything about the world it is this.....I am probably just trying to sleep with you, fox just wants your dollars, aliens haven't been here cause they aren't on jersey shore, and for the love of god, if you don't get it, stop claiming to be smart.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Dreaming Wuith The Lights Out Pt3.
The sound is overwhelming. A rushing, bleeding, infuriating sound; pounded it's way through Scott's head. Then the light. The blinding, mesmerizing, burning light.
Then silence.
Then, it all comes rushing in to focus. Scott is standing in the middle of a large room, massive really. One wall is completely glass, but all that can be seen on the other side is the perfect vista of the perect manicured lawn, with a blue sky with a few scattered puffy white clouds watching over it, protecting it, nurturing it, making it grow softly and silently, and ever so slightly.
Scott is completely disoriented as he spins, figuratively and literally. He is searching for meaning, for understanding. These new images, are fighting at his cerebral cortex, mashing his brain with sights, sounds, and feelings. Most are like the sights and sounds you barely remember. The feeling of walking in to a room you remember, yet something is completely different about it, but you don't know what that difference is washes over him.
Behind him row upon row of sparsely populated benches. To his left a bank of sparsely populated escalators rise to the second floor. The second floor was crammed with those annoying rope lines that pen people in like cattle, shuffling towards some final destination that one assumes will be better than that of the average cow. At the end of the rope line stand signs for three different gates. No outward signs of what the gates lead to can be discerned frrom where Scott stands.
This is when Scott notices the other people. Really notices them. They all seem lost, seem to be searching. They are almost all looking around for something, and waiting for someone to explain why they are there.
There is a crackling sound, followed by a series of soft tones. The loudspeaker comes alive, and Scott realises it is probably the only thing in the building that is.
"Please check your boarding passes and proceed directly to your assigned gate. If you do not have a boarding pass, please proceed to a ticket agent to discuss travel arrangements. Remain calm."
It is a female voice, and it seems reassuring in a businesslike fashion. No emotion, but not mechanical, just matter of fact and soft and gentle.
Scotss begins to look in his pockets, he realises he is wearing a pair of blue jeans and a white cotton shirt. This is not the outfit he left home in. There is nothing in his pockets.
What the hell is going on? He says to himself in a paniced tone. Apparently he missed the part about remaining calm. He is not calm, he is in fact as far from calm as one can get.
Scott notices a young woman, slightly rounded, with horribly sad eyes staring at her wrists. In the next aisle of seats there is an old man napping who posses the most mottled, parched, cracked, pale skin Scott has ever seen. A few benches down he notices a man in the uniform of a construction worker who is most likely trying to figure out why there isn't a hammer embedded in his skull.
This is when what little heart Scott has is broken in two. He sees, and hears a little baby, no more than a year old. The baby is sitting all by itse;f, crying, searching for mom.
A man in a strange powder blue uniform with the word staff on one breast, and Chuck on the other walks up to the baby, picks it up, and begins to try and soothe it as he walks towards the escalators.
As realisation dawns, so too does panic. Not the same panic he had before, but a new one. Scott has no boarding pass. Scott is dead, and he isn't going anywhere.
Those same soft series of tones precurse the same message. Scott absently wonders why everyone in the room can understand english, when clearly a few of them are not from America. Surely the man in the Toga with the brown skin was not just on Main St. in Lawrence Kansas mere minutes ago. An what about the Japenese man arguing with the woman at the information booth.
WAIT! The information booth! That is where the answers will come from, that is where information surely must be distributed to the masses. Why would you call it an information booth if you didn't have insight in to what was going on?
Slowly, and unsteadily, Scott begins to try and move. His rubber legs give out and he crashes to the ground. That is when he finally notices his head isn't on straight. Not in that, hey, I am completely messed up cause I am dead and yet here I am in some strange airport or bus terminal or whatever the hell it is kind of way; but rather, in that, hey my neck is broken and my head is flopping to the side sort of way.
"Careful there buddy, you gonna need to wait a minute or two to get your death legs under ya'" The voice is that of a Brooklyn man, the body it belongs to is also encased in the same uniform as Chuck. This one is named Jack. "Got your boarding pass, brother?"
For a few long moments, Scott was speechless. When he finally catches his voice it is cracked, parched, like a man who hasn't had anything to drink for the last three days of desert walking. "Uhmmmm, n, n, no."
"Ok then pal, ya need to talk to one of them agents over there," Jack says, pointing to a row of small office doors. "Just wait outside of em, and someone will call you in."
It takes Scott several minutes of effort to rise to his feet, all the while trying to drown out the sobs of the recently departed, his own mind spiraling madly with the revelation.
He stands in line for what seems like an eternity to you and I, but he will learn the true definition even as we watch.
A gaunt, tall pale man with a british accent beckons him in to his office by calling Scott`s name.
Scott enters the room against his better judgement. He peers around, noticing every detail. The faux wood finish paneling, the large stained brown bookcases, the oak desk with family photos on it. There is a laptop of all things resting comfortable to one side of the brown and green desk blotter.
"Welcome Mr. Reynolds, allow me to pull up your credit file." The man pauses his speech while he types a few commands in to the computer, then makes a few oh's and ah's. "Well Mr. Reynolds, this is going to be an interesting trip for you I think."
Then silence.
Then, it all comes rushing in to focus. Scott is standing in the middle of a large room, massive really. One wall is completely glass, but all that can be seen on the other side is the perfect vista of the perect manicured lawn, with a blue sky with a few scattered puffy white clouds watching over it, protecting it, nurturing it, making it grow softly and silently, and ever so slightly.
Scott is completely disoriented as he spins, figuratively and literally. He is searching for meaning, for understanding. These new images, are fighting at his cerebral cortex, mashing his brain with sights, sounds, and feelings. Most are like the sights and sounds you barely remember. The feeling of walking in to a room you remember, yet something is completely different about it, but you don't know what that difference is washes over him.
Behind him row upon row of sparsely populated benches. To his left a bank of sparsely populated escalators rise to the second floor. The second floor was crammed with those annoying rope lines that pen people in like cattle, shuffling towards some final destination that one assumes will be better than that of the average cow. At the end of the rope line stand signs for three different gates. No outward signs of what the gates lead to can be discerned frrom where Scott stands.
This is when Scott notices the other people. Really notices them. They all seem lost, seem to be searching. They are almost all looking around for something, and waiting for someone to explain why they are there.
There is a crackling sound, followed by a series of soft tones. The loudspeaker comes alive, and Scott realises it is probably the only thing in the building that is.
"Please check your boarding passes and proceed directly to your assigned gate. If you do not have a boarding pass, please proceed to a ticket agent to discuss travel arrangements. Remain calm."
It is a female voice, and it seems reassuring in a businesslike fashion. No emotion, but not mechanical, just matter of fact and soft and gentle.
Scotss begins to look in his pockets, he realises he is wearing a pair of blue jeans and a white cotton shirt. This is not the outfit he left home in. There is nothing in his pockets.
What the hell is going on? He says to himself in a paniced tone. Apparently he missed the part about remaining calm. He is not calm, he is in fact as far from calm as one can get.
Scott notices a young woman, slightly rounded, with horribly sad eyes staring at her wrists. In the next aisle of seats there is an old man napping who posses the most mottled, parched, cracked, pale skin Scott has ever seen. A few benches down he notices a man in the uniform of a construction worker who is most likely trying to figure out why there isn't a hammer embedded in his skull.
This is when what little heart Scott has is broken in two. He sees, and hears a little baby, no more than a year old. The baby is sitting all by itse;f, crying, searching for mom.
A man in a strange powder blue uniform with the word staff on one breast, and Chuck on the other walks up to the baby, picks it up, and begins to try and soothe it as he walks towards the escalators.
As realisation dawns, so too does panic. Not the same panic he had before, but a new one. Scott has no boarding pass. Scott is dead, and he isn't going anywhere.
Those same soft series of tones precurse the same message. Scott absently wonders why everyone in the room can understand english, when clearly a few of them are not from America. Surely the man in the Toga with the brown skin was not just on Main St. in Lawrence Kansas mere minutes ago. An what about the Japenese man arguing with the woman at the information booth.
WAIT! The information booth! That is where the answers will come from, that is where information surely must be distributed to the masses. Why would you call it an information booth if you didn't have insight in to what was going on?
Slowly, and unsteadily, Scott begins to try and move. His rubber legs give out and he crashes to the ground. That is when he finally notices his head isn't on straight. Not in that, hey, I am completely messed up cause I am dead and yet here I am in some strange airport or bus terminal or whatever the hell it is kind of way; but rather, in that, hey my neck is broken and my head is flopping to the side sort of way.
"Careful there buddy, you gonna need to wait a minute or two to get your death legs under ya'" The voice is that of a Brooklyn man, the body it belongs to is also encased in the same uniform as Chuck. This one is named Jack. "Got your boarding pass, brother?"
For a few long moments, Scott was speechless. When he finally catches his voice it is cracked, parched, like a man who hasn't had anything to drink for the last three days of desert walking. "Uhmmmm, n, n, no."
"Ok then pal, ya need to talk to one of them agents over there," Jack says, pointing to a row of small office doors. "Just wait outside of em, and someone will call you in."
It takes Scott several minutes of effort to rise to his feet, all the while trying to drown out the sobs of the recently departed, his own mind spiraling madly with the revelation.
He stands in line for what seems like an eternity to you and I, but he will learn the true definition even as we watch.
A gaunt, tall pale man with a british accent beckons him in to his office by calling Scott`s name.
Scott enters the room against his better judgement. He peers around, noticing every detail. The faux wood finish paneling, the large stained brown bookcases, the oak desk with family photos on it. There is a laptop of all things resting comfortable to one side of the brown and green desk blotter.
"Welcome Mr. Reynolds, allow me to pull up your credit file." The man pauses his speech while he types a few commands in to the computer, then makes a few oh's and ah's. "Well Mr. Reynolds, this is going to be an interesting trip for you I think."
Kiss Off
Many people believe it is grossly unhealthy to suppress anger and resentment. I agree with them. Maybe it is because if I was less fat and better looking I would be at hedonism right now, I am not sure. I tend to want to feel and experience great swaths of emotions and experience, well, everything.
I remember a T-Shirt I once had, it said: "To taste the flavour of life, you must take big bites. Moderation is for monks."
Because I am me, I always wondered why I was given this t-shirt. What was the person trying to say to me? I do that a little too much, but it is a fun exercise, though the dsm would classify it as excessive rumination and imply it is unhealthy. The message wasn't as clear as say, the tshirt I got from my ex in laws, you know, the one that just simply said, psycho path on it. That one was pretty straight forward and required little to no ruminating.
I bring this up because Christmas is around the corner and that means it is time for gifts.
As you can see, I firmly, and neurotically believe gifts say more about the giver than the receiver. Well, at least from the aspect of what the giver thinks of the receiver.
To that end, I wish to give a simple gift, and purge myself of deterious emotions. Because I am trying very hard to post once a day, as something to do, and a forum for practicing brain gymnastics, I will present this present presently.
The thought of your face makes me angry. I am not sure why, but I am angry with you. So angry I want to shout at you.
I want to yell nasty things to you. I want to tell you to fuck off and die. I want to tell you that I hate everything about you.
You are kinda dumb. I know, I know, you are shocked by this. You think you are smart and capable, but really, your just a fool. Your ideas are simple, you can't even express them because you lack the vocabulary to even do that much. You are always shocked at everything that happens because you lack the intellect to suss out even the simplest prognostication. You lack the capacity to understand cause and effect.
You never consider anyone other than yourself. Oh no, you aren't crazy, you are just a narcissist. If it isn't happening to you, then it probably isn't happening. The world around you serve your own interest and when that interest is lost, you reject everything. You can't seem to last very long doing much because people annoy you. Here's why: They do not live to serve you. They have their own shit going o and can't always defer to your whims.
Let me assure you, the world does not revolve around you. You are not the center of everything.
You are a stuck up, self centered, uncaring bitch.
I have absolutely no idea why I liked you, but please be advised, I am giving you notice. I despise you and everything you stand for.
It's funny to me know how you use people and then get pissed when they want something in return. Things you are unwilling to give. You expect others to lavish you with attention and succor, but when it comes time to return the favour you are incapable of doing so.
It is laughable to see how you manage things in to the ground and then come out of it with a smile because others have cleaned up your mess.
You watch them crash against your breakwater in waves for sport, never reaching out a helping hand, always expecting them to fulfill their promises, even when they just want your head on a stick.
Hammer smash face.
Hulk angry.
You're so vein, you probably think this message is about you. Truth is, I doubt you are even reading it. Even if you do, your fear will get the better of you. You fear what is inside you even more than I fear what is inside of me, and so you run from the confrontation. You shouldn't. There is no closure that way, just more of the same bullshit.
There, I feel better now. The sad fact is, since I can't get you this for Christmas, I am going to have to settle for a sweater or some sweat socks. Maybe a wallet or a watch. I could get you something pretty, or give you a piece of my soul, but in the end you would just say you are uncomfortable and walk away.
The problem is not the walking away, the trouble arises when you walk back, expecting things to be different, shocked when they are the same.
Merry ho ho to you and me.
In case you are wondering, yeah I hate myself for this Christmas related post in early November, but i have issues with delayed gratification, so I present it to the world now.
I wonder what will happen. I wonder if people will think this is fiction or non fiction. I wonder if people will stop....or start reading me more because I seem crazy.
OK, truth time, this was just a minor purge of emotion. I am writing the next part of the dreaming piece and my head was stuck in the wrong emotional framework. I am writing about fear and anxiety, not anger and frustration. I firmly believe that a writer writes best when they connect with and feel the emotion of the piece they are writing. When stuck in a different head space or heart space it can lead to some sad examples of work. I wouldn't read too much in to this, it is merely a way to set the record straight on something.
Truth is, we all have these feelings from time to time. We care about someone, but something happens to make us upset. We want to spew bile all over them. This is just a slightly healthier way of doing it without directly confronting the person, who probably isn't this bad, and probably doesn't deserve it. Bottling these feelings up is what causes domestic violence and other stupid behaviours.
Not being able to express yourself, not being able to put it out there on front street is harmful to yourself and others.
What I have written isn't honestly how I feel about the person, just an expression of my frustration. My feelings like there is unfinished business, like too much has been left unsaid because saying things is hard.
Sorry for the journal entry today, but it was necessary in order to keep my promise of part 3 later today.
Maybe you can learn something from this. Maybe you can learn that keeping it all inside is unhealthy, even if the alternative scares you. Even if expressing yourself seems like a frightening proposition, like an uncomfortable situation made worse by inner turmoil over indecision.
The world doesn't have to be a scary place, and you don't have to hide from your feelings and thoughts. You just need to find a way to express them.
Venue and audience is the key. The fat man whom I worship goes on and on about how when they write about him doing a show they always say, he played before an audience of his loyal fan base. Kevin always says, well of course they are my fucking fans. Who goes to see someone they don't like? This is so true. I am not likely to buy a ticket to go see carrot top, because I find him annoying. I am likely to purchase a ticket to Kevin's shows. That is what being a fan is about. He plays to his audience in venues that they can afford.
This is the same theory behind expressing yourself. Play before the right audience in the right venue. Make sure your audience is supportive and cares enough about your act to want to be there and hear it. Make sure the place is right and they are in the right frame of mind to hear you.
When you have that, then you cannot fail, nothing can go wrong, even if the outcome is not ideal. You will always get a standing o, even if it means they are walking out the door.
Playing it safe is not hiding and not performing, playing it safe is knowing who you are performing for. Don't be afraid to perform.
I remember a T-Shirt I once had, it said: "To taste the flavour of life, you must take big bites. Moderation is for monks."
Because I am me, I always wondered why I was given this t-shirt. What was the person trying to say to me? I do that a little too much, but it is a fun exercise, though the dsm would classify it as excessive rumination and imply it is unhealthy. The message wasn't as clear as say, the tshirt I got from my ex in laws, you know, the one that just simply said, psycho path on it. That one was pretty straight forward and required little to no ruminating.
I bring this up because Christmas is around the corner and that means it is time for gifts.
As you can see, I firmly, and neurotically believe gifts say more about the giver than the receiver. Well, at least from the aspect of what the giver thinks of the receiver.
To that end, I wish to give a simple gift, and purge myself of deterious emotions. Because I am trying very hard to post once a day, as something to do, and a forum for practicing brain gymnastics, I will present this present presently.
The thought of your face makes me angry. I am not sure why, but I am angry with you. So angry I want to shout at you.
I want to yell nasty things to you. I want to tell you to fuck off and die. I want to tell you that I hate everything about you.
You are kinda dumb. I know, I know, you are shocked by this. You think you are smart and capable, but really, your just a fool. Your ideas are simple, you can't even express them because you lack the vocabulary to even do that much. You are always shocked at everything that happens because you lack the intellect to suss out even the simplest prognostication. You lack the capacity to understand cause and effect.
You never consider anyone other than yourself. Oh no, you aren't crazy, you are just a narcissist. If it isn't happening to you, then it probably isn't happening. The world around you serve your own interest and when that interest is lost, you reject everything. You can't seem to last very long doing much because people annoy you. Here's why: They do not live to serve you. They have their own shit going o and can't always defer to your whims.
Let me assure you, the world does not revolve around you. You are not the center of everything.
You are a stuck up, self centered, uncaring bitch.
I have absolutely no idea why I liked you, but please be advised, I am giving you notice. I despise you and everything you stand for.
It's funny to me know how you use people and then get pissed when they want something in return. Things you are unwilling to give. You expect others to lavish you with attention and succor, but when it comes time to return the favour you are incapable of doing so.
It is laughable to see how you manage things in to the ground and then come out of it with a smile because others have cleaned up your mess.
You watch them crash against your breakwater in waves for sport, never reaching out a helping hand, always expecting them to fulfill their promises, even when they just want your head on a stick.
Hammer smash face.
Hulk angry.
You're so vein, you probably think this message is about you. Truth is, I doubt you are even reading it. Even if you do, your fear will get the better of you. You fear what is inside you even more than I fear what is inside of me, and so you run from the confrontation. You shouldn't. There is no closure that way, just more of the same bullshit.
There, I feel better now. The sad fact is, since I can't get you this for Christmas, I am going to have to settle for a sweater or some sweat socks. Maybe a wallet or a watch. I could get you something pretty, or give you a piece of my soul, but in the end you would just say you are uncomfortable and walk away.
The problem is not the walking away, the trouble arises when you walk back, expecting things to be different, shocked when they are the same.
Merry ho ho to you and me.
In case you are wondering, yeah I hate myself for this Christmas related post in early November, but i have issues with delayed gratification, so I present it to the world now.
I wonder what will happen. I wonder if people will think this is fiction or non fiction. I wonder if people will stop....or start reading me more because I seem crazy.
OK, truth time, this was just a minor purge of emotion. I am writing the next part of the dreaming piece and my head was stuck in the wrong emotional framework. I am writing about fear and anxiety, not anger and frustration. I firmly believe that a writer writes best when they connect with and feel the emotion of the piece they are writing. When stuck in a different head space or heart space it can lead to some sad examples of work. I wouldn't read too much in to this, it is merely a way to set the record straight on something.
Truth is, we all have these feelings from time to time. We care about someone, but something happens to make us upset. We want to spew bile all over them. This is just a slightly healthier way of doing it without directly confronting the person, who probably isn't this bad, and probably doesn't deserve it. Bottling these feelings up is what causes domestic violence and other stupid behaviours.
Not being able to express yourself, not being able to put it out there on front street is harmful to yourself and others.
What I have written isn't honestly how I feel about the person, just an expression of my frustration. My feelings like there is unfinished business, like too much has been left unsaid because saying things is hard.
Sorry for the journal entry today, but it was necessary in order to keep my promise of part 3 later today.
Maybe you can learn something from this. Maybe you can learn that keeping it all inside is unhealthy, even if the alternative scares you. Even if expressing yourself seems like a frightening proposition, like an uncomfortable situation made worse by inner turmoil over indecision.
The world doesn't have to be a scary place, and you don't have to hide from your feelings and thoughts. You just need to find a way to express them.
Venue and audience is the key. The fat man whom I worship goes on and on about how when they write about him doing a show they always say, he played before an audience of his loyal fan base. Kevin always says, well of course they are my fucking fans. Who goes to see someone they don't like? This is so true. I am not likely to buy a ticket to go see carrot top, because I find him annoying. I am likely to purchase a ticket to Kevin's shows. That is what being a fan is about. He plays to his audience in venues that they can afford.
This is the same theory behind expressing yourself. Play before the right audience in the right venue. Make sure your audience is supportive and cares enough about your act to want to be there and hear it. Make sure the place is right and they are in the right frame of mind to hear you.
When you have that, then you cannot fail, nothing can go wrong, even if the outcome is not ideal. You will always get a standing o, even if it means they are walking out the door.
Playing it safe is not hiding and not performing, playing it safe is knowing who you are performing for. Don't be afraid to perform.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Hate Tastes Like Victory?
Note: This is going to seem much more like a position paper than a blog entry. This is also the internet so I am going to spice it up with some multi media, a few musical interludes and a you tube or two. BTW, I also learned how to do html coding so that the links either open a new browser window or tab depending on your browser settings, so feel free to click away without losing your place in my wonderful soapbox sandbox.
There are a few issues which really get my motor running, tee me up, and make me get out a pen and write up a list (nsfw). Those issues, in no particular order are, abuse of women and children, the dh rule, and racism.
There are many reasons for racism, and I will touch on some of them, but what I really want to speak about is how far off the path we have strayed.
There is a theory in social psychology that talks about in groups and out groups. We strive like hell to become a part of the in group, and once there, fight to stay. We develop mores, and expected behaviours.
Many philosophers, psychic bunny rabbits, and holy rollers believe that human beings have this thing inside them that makes us strive to belong. In fact, strive may not be a strong enough word. We NEED to belong. We need families, peer groups, swinger circles, geekapolooza thursday nights at the local coffee shop. Some of us do the most ridiculous things in order to belong.
People will dress up in funny costumes, wear make up, and chant slogans just to belong to the in group. So I tend to agree that yeah, everyone has it coded in their dna somewhere that they need to belong; that without belonging life has little meaning.
Sometimes these are healthy groups, like say the boy scouts, and sometimes they are just evil and wrong, like say the Nazis.
The inescapable truth about belonging is that in order to belong, you need to not belong as well. In order not to belong, and to make you feel like you have chosen the right group to be a part of, you can do one of two things. Make your group stronger or make the other group weaker.
Here's another inescapable truth about human beings. We are friggin lazy. If you think pride is the route of all sin, I got one thing to say to you. This:
Sloth, laziness leads to us cutting corners in everything we do, that includes thinking. We develop schema just so things will be easier. In many respects, our eyesight is even based on memory instead of actually working. We see what we expect to see. I am sure many of you have taken that little reading test where the letter are all jumbled inside the words, and yet you were able to read it alright. This isn;t an example of the wondrous brain and how it can decode things, it is actually an example of how lazy the brain is. It sees what it expects to see and then makes things conform to those thoughts and ideas.
This is how we live our lives, and this is how we strengthen our groups. Not from the inside, but rather from the outside.
In a nutshell, what I am trying to get at is, groups use an external locus of control over the esteem of the group.
This can be harmless, or mostly so. Take for example the boy scouts. Here;s a little known fact about me, I was in the boy scouts....heck, I was super scout. Like always, when I actually get off my lazy ass, I do everything to the fullest. I actually achieved the highest honour in Canadian Scouting. I was the shit. I was also in Air Cadets. I know, geek rightÉ You try saying no to a hot 16 year old girl when you are 13 and she is saying, you wanna come hang out with me, learn self defense, shoot guns and learn to fly? Uhmmm no get away from me chick....yeah right. I signed up, immediately.
Anyway, the point to this trip down memory and mammary lane is that those two groups made fun of each other. When each found out I was a member of the other, they made it very hard on me. They would try everything to make me not want to belong to the other group. They did this instead of extolling the virtues of their own group. One would say the other is mean, and one would say the other was a bunch of pansies.
Sure, they could have just felt safe in that I belonged to the group and just tried to make my experience better in the group, but nah, that was a lot like work.
The problem arises when the outgroup hazing becomes destructive. Nothing bad has ever come out of projecting your fears and prejudices outward right?
Eventually it isn't enough just to denigrate.
What I am talking about is the difference between prejudice and discrimination.
Prejudice is unavoidable. We all have prejudices. We all feel things about other people and other groups. Some of it is based on fact, and some of it is based on stereotyping. Some of it is because of experience, and some of it is because we just want to feel better about ourselves.
Take the example of the NPR firing Juan Williams.
What this dude sad was that prejudice is a fact of life. Stereotyping is what we do. If you continue to listen to everything he said, you will notice he was saying it needs to stop at prejudice and not make it in to the realm of acting on it.
It is easy for us to say, when we see a muslim person we immediately get uneasy. It is much more difficult for us to examine the reasons why and to discuss how we can bridge that understanding with a little good old fashioned rethinking. It is also important to break the habit of acting on it. This is the crux of his position.
It was brave of him to admit his fear and prejudice.
It is a fear that has been reinforced time and again by north American media. It is a prejudice that we are fed constantly. To admit that you have fallen prey to this is not weakness, nor is it racism.
You see we all have prejudice, be it about the dirty bum on the streets, the guy who doesn't like star wars, or the muslim family that just moved in down the street. The difference comes when we decide how to act on it.
I mentioned Andre, and here's the thing. A group of douche bags decided that their group was put down and put upon by black people. They decided it would be good to rid the world of this scourge. Thus, they killed him, in front of me.
This was a mistake on their part because it led to me finding my own voice, and my own prejudice. It led to this attitude.
This is sort of like the epitome of what I am talking about when I say out group rage. An in group created out of anger and hate that devolves in to violence on both sides. Does it really matter if one group is righteous in their anger or not? The result is still the same.
So I think about a line from the good batman. It kind of sums up the idea that prejudice is in us, but what we do with it matters.
So in the end, we see that actions speak louder than words. Racism is about actively spreading hate. It is about actively seeking to destroy or weaken the out group. Racism is not about thinking someone is bad because of stereotypes.
I would love to be able to change the hearts and minds of everyone who has prejudice in this world for people based on ridiculous notions. I would like to be able to help people understand that in order to progress and become a more perfect society we need to shed all those things that cause fear and hatred to bring us down.
I can't. I can't make you see that people are just people. Some are good, some are bad. Some are white, some are black. Some believe in Jesus and some don't. I can't make you see the inherent value in all people....you know, until they prove themselves douches.
What I can do is change the way we act on these thoughts and feelings. We can all say it is not ok to mistreat people because of our feelings towards them, no matter what those feelings are.
We have come a long way since the caves, but there are still miles to go before we sleep.
We no longer club things over the head and drag them back to our cave when we want them. This is progress.
We still need to realise that we don't have to fight with each other to make the world a better place for our group. I am not sure what the perfect solution is, but carving out a niche for our group, being free to practice whatever strange rituals we wish to that do not harm others is a start. Not being mistreated because of this is essential.
You don't have to like me, or what I do, but that doesn't mean you should spread hatred for me. And it sure as shit doesn't mean we have to put up with that kind of behaviour.
Yet we do. We do it all the time. We ring our hands, shake our fists and say, wow that sucks big time, yet we do nothing to change it. We give acceptance that the behaviour is ok by not speaking out against it.
We hide from things we don't like because...wait for it....we are all lazy. We cannot sit idly by and let people spread hatred and fear, no matter why they are doing it.
We can accept in our hearts that people will always fear, distrust, and even sometimes hate the outgourp, but that doesn''t mean we have to sit by and let them do their thing, even if it isn't to our group.
We do each other a disservice when we don't act.
To paraphrase greatness, with free speech comes great responsibility.
We shouldn't make it so they can't say what they want. We need to make it so that they don't want to say what they want. Make them such an outgroup that they can't stand not to be in our group. The group of the sane, rational individual.
Join my group. The group of the normal average everyday person who is just trying to make their way in this world while trying not to hate on others.
Don't let hate or discrimination in to your group please.
Well that went to a different place than intended...so much for a position paper, though it did get a little technical. Oh well.
There are a few issues which really get my motor running, tee me up, and make me get out a pen and write up a list (nsfw). Those issues, in no particular order are, abuse of women and children, the dh rule, and racism.
There are many reasons for racism, and I will touch on some of them, but what I really want to speak about is how far off the path we have strayed.
There is a theory in social psychology that talks about in groups and out groups. We strive like hell to become a part of the in group, and once there, fight to stay. We develop mores, and expected behaviours.
Many philosophers, psychic bunny rabbits, and holy rollers believe that human beings have this thing inside them that makes us strive to belong. In fact, strive may not be a strong enough word. We NEED to belong. We need families, peer groups, swinger circles, geekapolooza thursday nights at the local coffee shop. Some of us do the most ridiculous things in order to belong.
People will dress up in funny costumes, wear make up, and chant slogans just to belong to the in group. So I tend to agree that yeah, everyone has it coded in their dna somewhere that they need to belong; that without belonging life has little meaning.
Sometimes these are healthy groups, like say the boy scouts, and sometimes they are just evil and wrong, like say the Nazis.
The inescapable truth about belonging is that in order to belong, you need to not belong as well. In order not to belong, and to make you feel like you have chosen the right group to be a part of, you can do one of two things. Make your group stronger or make the other group weaker.
Here's another inescapable truth about human beings. We are friggin lazy. If you think pride is the route of all sin, I got one thing to say to you. This:
Sloth, laziness leads to us cutting corners in everything we do, that includes thinking. We develop schema just so things will be easier. In many respects, our eyesight is even based on memory instead of actually working. We see what we expect to see. I am sure many of you have taken that little reading test where the letter are all jumbled inside the words, and yet you were able to read it alright. This isn;t an example of the wondrous brain and how it can decode things, it is actually an example of how lazy the brain is. It sees what it expects to see and then makes things conform to those thoughts and ideas.
This is how we live our lives, and this is how we strengthen our groups. Not from the inside, but rather from the outside.
In a nutshell, what I am trying to get at is, groups use an external locus of control over the esteem of the group.
This can be harmless, or mostly so. Take for example the boy scouts. Here;s a little known fact about me, I was in the boy scouts....heck, I was super scout. Like always, when I actually get off my lazy ass, I do everything to the fullest. I actually achieved the highest honour in Canadian Scouting. I was the shit. I was also in Air Cadets. I know, geek rightÉ You try saying no to a hot 16 year old girl when you are 13 and she is saying, you wanna come hang out with me, learn self defense, shoot guns and learn to fly? Uhmmm no get away from me chick....yeah right. I signed up, immediately.
Anyway, the point to this trip down memory and mammary lane is that those two groups made fun of each other. When each found out I was a member of the other, they made it very hard on me. They would try everything to make me not want to belong to the other group. They did this instead of extolling the virtues of their own group. One would say the other is mean, and one would say the other was a bunch of pansies.
Sure, they could have just felt safe in that I belonged to the group and just tried to make my experience better in the group, but nah, that was a lot like work.
The problem arises when the outgroup hazing becomes destructive. Nothing bad has ever come out of projecting your fears and prejudices outward right?
Eventually it isn't enough just to denigrate.
What I am talking about is the difference between prejudice and discrimination.
Prejudice is unavoidable. We all have prejudices. We all feel things about other people and other groups. Some of it is based on fact, and some of it is based on stereotyping. Some of it is because of experience, and some of it is because we just want to feel better about ourselves.
Take the example of the NPR firing Juan Williams.
What this dude sad was that prejudice is a fact of life. Stereotyping is what we do. If you continue to listen to everything he said, you will notice he was saying it needs to stop at prejudice and not make it in to the realm of acting on it.
It is easy for us to say, when we see a muslim person we immediately get uneasy. It is much more difficult for us to examine the reasons why and to discuss how we can bridge that understanding with a little good old fashioned rethinking. It is also important to break the habit of acting on it. This is the crux of his position.
It was brave of him to admit his fear and prejudice.
It is a fear that has been reinforced time and again by north American media. It is a prejudice that we are fed constantly. To admit that you have fallen prey to this is not weakness, nor is it racism.
You see we all have prejudice, be it about the dirty bum on the streets, the guy who doesn't like star wars, or the muslim family that just moved in down the street. The difference comes when we decide how to act on it.
I mentioned Andre, and here's the thing. A group of douche bags decided that their group was put down and put upon by black people. They decided it would be good to rid the world of this scourge. Thus, they killed him, in front of me.
This was a mistake on their part because it led to me finding my own voice, and my own prejudice. It led to this attitude.
This is sort of like the epitome of what I am talking about when I say out group rage. An in group created out of anger and hate that devolves in to violence on both sides. Does it really matter if one group is righteous in their anger or not? The result is still the same.
So I think about a line from the good batman. It kind of sums up the idea that prejudice is in us, but what we do with it matters.
So in the end, we see that actions speak louder than words. Racism is about actively spreading hate. It is about actively seeking to destroy or weaken the out group. Racism is not about thinking someone is bad because of stereotypes.
I would love to be able to change the hearts and minds of everyone who has prejudice in this world for people based on ridiculous notions. I would like to be able to help people understand that in order to progress and become a more perfect society we need to shed all those things that cause fear and hatred to bring us down.
I can't. I can't make you see that people are just people. Some are good, some are bad. Some are white, some are black. Some believe in Jesus and some don't. I can't make you see the inherent value in all people....you know, until they prove themselves douches.
What I can do is change the way we act on these thoughts and feelings. We can all say it is not ok to mistreat people because of our feelings towards them, no matter what those feelings are.
We have come a long way since the caves, but there are still miles to go before we sleep.
We no longer club things over the head and drag them back to our cave when we want them. This is progress.
We still need to realise that we don't have to fight with each other to make the world a better place for our group. I am not sure what the perfect solution is, but carving out a niche for our group, being free to practice whatever strange rituals we wish to that do not harm others is a start. Not being mistreated because of this is essential.
You don't have to like me, or what I do, but that doesn't mean you should spread hatred for me. And it sure as shit doesn't mean we have to put up with that kind of behaviour.
Yet we do. We do it all the time. We ring our hands, shake our fists and say, wow that sucks big time, yet we do nothing to change it. We give acceptance that the behaviour is ok by not speaking out against it.
We hide from things we don't like because...wait for it....we are all lazy. We cannot sit idly by and let people spread hatred and fear, no matter why they are doing it.
We can accept in our hearts that people will always fear, distrust, and even sometimes hate the outgourp, but that doesn''t mean we have to sit by and let them do their thing, even if it isn't to our group.
We do each other a disservice when we don't act.
To paraphrase greatness, with free speech comes great responsibility.
We shouldn't make it so they can't say what they want. We need to make it so that they don't want to say what they want. Make them such an outgroup that they can't stand not to be in our group. The group of the sane, rational individual.
Join my group. The group of the normal average everyday person who is just trying to make their way in this world while trying not to hate on others.
Don't let hate or discrimination in to your group please.
Well that went to a different place than intended...so much for a position paper, though it did get a little technical. Oh well.
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