One Week of Blogs in One Paragraph
The week started off well with a tremendously good podcast, our best so far, and not just because Alley is insane. I also posted about what to expect when you are expecting nothing from us here at monkey headquarters. I then wrote a love letter to the amazing Alison Rosen, but she didn't respond, so that made me sad, and a little tired so I took a nap and then wrote about it.... at length. This week also marked the deathday of Kurt Cobain, so I had to respond. I then got angry and swore a little bit about stuff that frustrates me. To wrap up the week, I went ahead and broke the rules and didn't post properly according to the new schedule, but sometimes life gets in the way and there are things you just have to do... with hookers.
Monkey Messages
Musical Interlude
Once again, these are posted daily on our facebook page and can be a helpful public service. Also, once again I slacked off as life got in the way. Send Alley an email and let her know she is slacking too.
Boyz II Men - It's So Hard To Say Goodbye To Yesterday. I wish this "band" hadn't died. Accapella can be powerful, and this is a good example of it.
Nirvana - Aneurysm. This is one of my favourites. It has always been that way because it is classic grunge. This is the part we play soft, this is the part we play heavy. Third verse, same as the first. It also has a powerful hook, and easy to understand lyrics about a single emotion that drags you kicking and screaming in to the light of not feeling in control, and feeling like someone else has the upper hand over your emotions.
Hoobastank - Crawling In The Dark. Life can be a rough thing, and searching for reason, for a solution to the darkness can be all consuming. It is the basis for religion, and it pervades our souls. This is a pretty powerful tune about that state of being.
Weekly Nirvana
This is the best video of theirs by far. I think it captures the way Kurt felt about things. So awkward and out of place it makes you cringe. It fits the emotion of the song perfectly, even if the lyrics are a bit jumbled. If you want to understand how a person who just wanted to make art feels about the people who hated him growing up loving him now just listen to this.
Podcast Of The Week
This was a tough decision. Last week I discussed one of the giants in podcasting, the Adam Carolla show, and I wanted to resist the urge to follow up with the same sort of thing by jumping on the Kevin Smith bandwagon. It has long been true that I am Kevin Smith's Bath House Bitch. A title given to me by the man himself, which I wear proudly. This makes it hard for me to be even slightly objective about his work.
I compromised. This week I want to focus on one of the shows on his podcast network that does not in fact feature him. Tell 'Em Steve Dave.
At first glance, this is merely a few friends getting together and bitching at each other. In many cases, that is what the show is. What struck me as interesting about it however, is the fact that these guys are all self deprecating. Instead of slamming each other, the slam themselves, and Ming Chen.
It is easy in comedy to just make fun of the other guy and watch him twist in the breeze, and they do this with Ming. What is difficult is to manage to make yourself funny, while making fun of yourself, and they all manage to do this. I am drawn to the humanity of this show, as three friends go about their business while admitting their own shortcomings. They do it in a way that doesn't ask for forgiveness, or even excusing the way they are, but they still make you like them for all their faults.
As a podcast it does hit all of the high notes. quality conversation about popculture, quality references to shared experiences, and self deprecating stories. This is essential to the new podcast paradigm. Essentially podcasting is more about character than it is about content. These fellas seem to get that and are unafraid to be characters.
What is remarkable about this podcast is how much it feels like these guys are just hanging out with us. They do some great theme shows, where they go out in public and do crazy stuff, and they also just hang out. What really captures the feeling of friends though is how much they do for their listeners. They are constantly allowing listeners on the show, planning meet ups, talking about listeners, and even providing a platform for new artists to promote their work through the show.
Those are all elements that make this a great show for people who enjoy the humanity of podcasting more than the mechanical corporatization of other media. These guys do podcasting well.
The only drawbacks may be the dirty humour. I personally enjoy their brand of humour, but it may be lost on those who seek a more.... high brow jolly. If you find the fact that they faked a contest of listeners sending in pictures of nasty toilet surprises just so they could sicken a person by forcing them to look at the unending stream of rusty brown digital snapshots hilarious then you will fit in with the TESD family. If not, might I suggest something from NPR?
All in all this is a great example of podcasting done right. They have character, they have chemistry and they have content, even when they don't. Well worth the listen each week, and well worth supporting their endeavors.
YouTube Video Of The Week
This is really everything that made YouTube great, and dare I say the internet great. It is star wars. It is cats. It is Star Wars cats.
Is there anything better? Maybe some faked nude Amidala pics.
One Monkey Toy
This is sad, but I did not play with any toys this week. Maybe that is why I am in such a bad mood. I failed to take time out of my busy schedule to just play. This is the thing that really matters in life, letting go of the grind, letting go of expected behaviours and just being a big kid. This segment has been a part of my entertainment repertoire for years. It began on a morning show in Regina, where others got to play with my toys, and continued through my entire career. I have to say that I am somewhat depressed about the fact that I have no toy prepared for today.
I can say that I have been playing with twitter a lot this week, but it seems to be a bad toy. It confuses me and is full of weird cultures I do not understand.
I am sorry there is no toy. Please send your hatemail to youmeannothingtomeandyouropinionswillnotbeheard@gojumpinthelake.com I will be sure to read each one of them and take your messages to heart.
Friend Of The Week
This week I would like to mention my friend Becky. It is her birthday and I am too cheap to buy her a real gift, so instead I will use my blog to declare my love for her. She is awesome, even though she is a hippy. She is also kind, even though she is a chick. She is beautiful and smart and makes me happy cause she is crazy and fun.
Happy birthday Becky, and welcome to the blog.
Wrap Party
Well, there you have, the week that was in monkey land. It was a long rough week, but it is over now....it must have been love, but it's over now....goddamn you Pretty Woman soundtrack! Anyway, this week should be better, with some amusing musings. I am currently trying to blackmail funny people in to writing stuff for me so I can spend more time playing with toys. Alley is out of town on an adventure, we will try and catch up with her for the podcast, and I am going out on assignment to see what this whole talking to women thing is all about.
Have a great week, and as always, talk to us, we are lonely and need friends.
Emails are welcome, as are comments.
Leiderhosen
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Hookers and Hand Grenades
Let it never be said that my life is boring. Let it never be said that my life is easy. No life should lack excitement, or difficulty for that matter. Without the difficulty one may never know that they are alive. I sometimes think easy would be boring and therefor not worth having.
The following is the story of my last few days, and how I came to understand I am no longer a bad man.
It started innocuously, with an email from a friend of a friend. Two years ago, my friend of friends E introduced me to the love of his life. He met her on the job, which is not that rare for people, except for the fact that his job was that of a pimp. The reality is, he would have never called himself that, nor would he have dressed or acted the part, but when it comes down to it, he was a pimp and a drug dealer.
He ran a strip club that had a cheap motel attached to it. Guess what was going on there people.
Anyway, he introduced me to this woman he had met on the job, and I was pleased to meet her from the standpoint of being happy he was somewhat settled down.
Then E killed himself and left her stranded in a sea of depravity. She had no guide, no life boat, no map. She was merely lost adrift with nothing but what she knew as a survival mechanism.
My life moved on and she was not a part of it.
Then the email arrived. In it she discussed the fact that she may or may not be about to be killed, and that she may or may not be having a drug problem. She begged for my help. She was afraid of her new manager, and afraid of what he might do for her. She needed me to come and rescue her.
Sometimes we are a victim of our instincts, and my instincts told me this was a bad thing. They also told me I knew how to deal with this. I am not proud of this, but there have been points in my life where I could walk in to a room and my will would dominate the situation.
The problem here is that I am not that guy anymore. I am not the large angry tattooed man any more. I am just not. Regular readers of my blog would see me more as the sad pathetic guy who can't get a woman. I suppose in a sense, this is what I have become, though I would like to think I am more.
Yesterday I became more.
On Friday though, I was a collection of misfiring neurons. I had no idea what to do. There was a part of me that felt responsible for her. That part was the part of me that had made a promise to sacrifice myself for E. We all had. There was a part of me that felt I had failed E when he died, and thought this was a chance to make up for that failing. There was also a part of me that felt guilty for having cut ties with this woman. I had simply let her go because she was a symbol of my failure and grief, and I couldn't live with that. There was also a part of me that wanted to prove I was not pathetic, that I still had the courage and manliness to get the job done.
I have always prided myself on the fact that I was not scared to act when the chips were done. A part of me that thrived under pressure and rose to the occasion to do that which was necessary to protect myself and my loved ones no matter what needed to be done. I felt like I might have lost that. It happened slowly, but when my ex told me she had been raped, I didn't bat an eyelash. I didn't run to her to claim revenge, I didn't move a muscle. I wanted to, but somewhere in the back of my mind I called bullshit, but I also called bullshit on myself. I wanted to believe she was lying so that I didn't have to do anything. I wanted to believe she was making it up so that she could drag me down to where she was at the time. SO I didn't act. But I always felt I did nothing because I was scared to become my old self.
So now I had this new chance to be my old self. I immediately went to a friend or two to get my mind screwed on safely, and make the decision of how to respond.
One friend told me not to do it. Not to get involved. What this person told me pissed me off. In many ways, it made me resent this person.
This person wanted me to just sit back and let the chips fall where they may because I didn't owe these people anything. Maybe this person was right, but I didn't think so.
All of a sudden I was angry. All of the sudden I was confused because my anger was misplaced.
Then I began to understand why I was mad.
I am not that man any more. I am not the violent, reactionary man, but I am still a strong person, a courageous person. I am tough and I am smart. I felt my friend was not giving me any credit for this. My friend was thinking in terms of me busting down doors and cracking heads; but, I am not that guy. I am a new guy. I am a smarter more sophisticated guy.
That was when I decided to show this friend, and myself that I have changed, that I am stronger inside than I ever was before. I could do this, and I could do it all without threatening, beating, pounding, shooting, snorting, or bullying. I could use my new skills to get the job done.
Many years ago, I had decided that I wanted to help people. I wanted to help get the lost and confused, the drugged out and the abused, the abandoned misused out of bad situation and in to good ones. You see, I have some skills some people don't. I have been there. I know exactly what it feels like to be lost and alone. I know what it feels like to think nothing is ever going to be alright again. I also know exactly what it takes to fix it.
I went back to school with the plan of becoming an addiction counsellor and crisis worker. I have all the training I need and several certifications with organizations with ridiculous acronyms.
What I don't have is a regular job doing these things, but I digress.
The point is, I have fully realised my new skill set and mindset. My friend did not give me any credit as this new person. This person who can and will help people in need by using his brain and his compassion rather than his brawn and his passion.
I went to this hooker. I went to her side and checked in to a seedy motel. I think many people wouldn't understand why or how I could do such a thing, but I am not shy, nor am I afraid of doing things that are dirty.
To protect this hooker's dignity, I will not go in to very much detail here because despite all her faults and bad decisions, she is a good person, a person deserving our respect. She is a person who deserves our kindness because she wants to better her life, even though she is scared and it is hard.
I will tell you this part though.
I had to confront her business manager. He was not happy to see me. His first thought was that I was some douchebag from a cheap romance movie. His thought was that I was a John trying to buy this whore from him because I foolishly thought she was in love with me.
I may have some issues with thinking women like me more than they do, but I would never be foolish enough to think someone I pay to show me affection actually felt that affection. I suppose my low self-esteem is helpful here. Despite the sad commentary on my inner demon, it is helpful to have the thought, not even a hooker could love me.
I calmly explained that no, I wasn't a customer. I explained who I was. Then he got mad. Apparently E had pissed this man off as well. Thanks buddy, you know, you could have been a little nicer to people.
Moving on, this is when the man started getting threatening and mean. The old me might have simply removed this obstacle. The old me might have reacted violently to his machinations. The new me stood my ground but also calmed the situation. The new me used psychology and a superior thought process to smooth ruffled feathers.
I explained to the man what value she used to be to him and how that value was lost now. I explained how it made good business sense for him to move on to a newer source of income.
He bought what I was selling. It took over an hour but I made him see the value of not being involved with a woman who was no longer stable, and no longer under his thumb. I also explained to him how hurting her or I was counter to his business model.
I left that room without having expressed one threat. I left that room without having hurt anyone. I left that room without backing down. I left that room with my head high, my eyes forward and my mind clear.
I left that room and puked in the parking lot.
It occurs to me now that anger and rage trump fear every time, and the sympathetic nervous system is more powerful than the para-sympathetic nervous system, but that being strong has a different meaning now.
I went back to my hooker. I explained that she could not go back to her life now. I explained to her how she was at a crossroads. Before her lay two paths, and that I could not choose the path for her. I could help her down the path if she choose to follow me, but I could not pull her kicking and screaming.
That night we mourned for her old life. She explained to me the horror of her life, and I think for the first time in her life, someone listened without pity, without judgement and without anger.
For the first time in her life she had a real friend that night.
She also got very very high.
Once I passed out she was left alone with her thoughts, alone with her decision. It took her several hours to come to a conclusion, but when she woke me up she had made her choice. She chose to live.
Then I had a choice to make. My youth had been spent doing various things that could get you fucked up. I had tried everything I could to make myself blissfully unaware of my own pains. Sometimes I still dream of getting high. Sometimes I still wake up with the feeling of being high, and then suddenly sober up and want to get high. I haven't, for the most part.
Since I quit drugs I have smoked pot 5 or 6 times. I kind of give myself a pass on that, even though I shouldn't, but it has been more than ten years since I got clean, and I am glad for that.
This was the first time I had been staring down the barrel of having the means to get totally messed. I had been offered drugs a few times, mostly by E and I had always said no. I think I did it out of sheer stubbornness, not out of inner strength or determination to turn the corner on my own crap.
Yesterday morning I had about an 8-ball of meth in my hands. I had the means to make myself feel better in my hot little hands for the first time. I didn't pay for it, so it hadn't cost me a thing to get a hold of it.
I didn't owe it to anyone to be sober, and I didn't owe anyone for the drugs. I could do them, feel better, feel stronger and get back that feeling of power.
At this point I had a decision to make about who I am. Am I the guy who is strong enough to say no, or am I just the guy who is strong enough not to be around it.
As it turns out, I am the guy who can say no. Though it felt harder than it should have, I flushed the happy powder.
Taking a hooker to rehab really changed my life. Not in the sense that anything is different. I am still the person I was the day before this all began. I am still living in the same place, and I am still poor. I am still underemployed and I am still lonely.
What I am though is still a good person. I am still Strong in a way the old me could have never dreamed of it. Before I left I was a new person, but I hadn't been that person yet. Before I left I was a new man, with new skills, and none of that has changed.
Now I know who I am. And that has made all the difference.
I talked with that same friend because I wanted to explain this to them. I wanted to give this person a front row seat to who I am. I had thought that like me, they hadn't given me any credit for being this better angel of my nature. I thought this person saw me as pathetic and weak and thought I didn't have the ability to get the job done without resorting to violence and thuggary.
I was wrong.
Turns out this person was just scared I would get hurt. Turns out someone out there cares enough about me to be mad when I risk my safety. Turns out maybe I ma wrong about no one loving me.
I see this person's point, and I shall not be getting this involved in some one's care again. What I will be doing though is making sure that when I can help I will.
Today I feel good about myself.
Today I feel loved like I never have before because I love me.
Today I feel cared about because someone I care about almost said they care about me.
Today I feel good because there is one less lost soul wandering the world.
Today I feel good because I was able to do what none of my old friends could. I transcended my life and realised my potential rather than getting bogged down in my baggage.
Today is a good day.
The following is the story of my last few days, and how I came to understand I am no longer a bad man.
It started innocuously, with an email from a friend of a friend. Two years ago, my friend of friends E introduced me to the love of his life. He met her on the job, which is not that rare for people, except for the fact that his job was that of a pimp. The reality is, he would have never called himself that, nor would he have dressed or acted the part, but when it comes down to it, he was a pimp and a drug dealer.
He ran a strip club that had a cheap motel attached to it. Guess what was going on there people.
Anyway, he introduced me to this woman he had met on the job, and I was pleased to meet her from the standpoint of being happy he was somewhat settled down.
Then E killed himself and left her stranded in a sea of depravity. She had no guide, no life boat, no map. She was merely lost adrift with nothing but what she knew as a survival mechanism.
My life moved on and she was not a part of it.
Then the email arrived. In it she discussed the fact that she may or may not be about to be killed, and that she may or may not be having a drug problem. She begged for my help. She was afraid of her new manager, and afraid of what he might do for her. She needed me to come and rescue her.
Sometimes we are a victim of our instincts, and my instincts told me this was a bad thing. They also told me I knew how to deal with this. I am not proud of this, but there have been points in my life where I could walk in to a room and my will would dominate the situation.
The problem here is that I am not that guy anymore. I am not the large angry tattooed man any more. I am just not. Regular readers of my blog would see me more as the sad pathetic guy who can't get a woman. I suppose in a sense, this is what I have become, though I would like to think I am more.
Yesterday I became more.
On Friday though, I was a collection of misfiring neurons. I had no idea what to do. There was a part of me that felt responsible for her. That part was the part of me that had made a promise to sacrifice myself for E. We all had. There was a part of me that felt I had failed E when he died, and thought this was a chance to make up for that failing. There was also a part of me that felt guilty for having cut ties with this woman. I had simply let her go because she was a symbol of my failure and grief, and I couldn't live with that. There was also a part of me that wanted to prove I was not pathetic, that I still had the courage and manliness to get the job done.
I have always prided myself on the fact that I was not scared to act when the chips were done. A part of me that thrived under pressure and rose to the occasion to do that which was necessary to protect myself and my loved ones no matter what needed to be done. I felt like I might have lost that. It happened slowly, but when my ex told me she had been raped, I didn't bat an eyelash. I didn't run to her to claim revenge, I didn't move a muscle. I wanted to, but somewhere in the back of my mind I called bullshit, but I also called bullshit on myself. I wanted to believe she was lying so that I didn't have to do anything. I wanted to believe she was making it up so that she could drag me down to where she was at the time. SO I didn't act. But I always felt I did nothing because I was scared to become my old self.
So now I had this new chance to be my old self. I immediately went to a friend or two to get my mind screwed on safely, and make the decision of how to respond.
One friend told me not to do it. Not to get involved. What this person told me pissed me off. In many ways, it made me resent this person.
This person wanted me to just sit back and let the chips fall where they may because I didn't owe these people anything. Maybe this person was right, but I didn't think so.
All of a sudden I was angry. All of the sudden I was confused because my anger was misplaced.
Then I began to understand why I was mad.
I am not that man any more. I am not the violent, reactionary man, but I am still a strong person, a courageous person. I am tough and I am smart. I felt my friend was not giving me any credit for this. My friend was thinking in terms of me busting down doors and cracking heads; but, I am not that guy. I am a new guy. I am a smarter more sophisticated guy.
That was when I decided to show this friend, and myself that I have changed, that I am stronger inside than I ever was before. I could do this, and I could do it all without threatening, beating, pounding, shooting, snorting, or bullying. I could use my new skills to get the job done.
Many years ago, I had decided that I wanted to help people. I wanted to help get the lost and confused, the drugged out and the abused, the abandoned misused out of bad situation and in to good ones. You see, I have some skills some people don't. I have been there. I know exactly what it feels like to be lost and alone. I know what it feels like to think nothing is ever going to be alright again. I also know exactly what it takes to fix it.
I went back to school with the plan of becoming an addiction counsellor and crisis worker. I have all the training I need and several certifications with organizations with ridiculous acronyms.
What I don't have is a regular job doing these things, but I digress.
The point is, I have fully realised my new skill set and mindset. My friend did not give me any credit as this new person. This person who can and will help people in need by using his brain and his compassion rather than his brawn and his passion.
I went to this hooker. I went to her side and checked in to a seedy motel. I think many people wouldn't understand why or how I could do such a thing, but I am not shy, nor am I afraid of doing things that are dirty.
To protect this hooker's dignity, I will not go in to very much detail here because despite all her faults and bad decisions, she is a good person, a person deserving our respect. She is a person who deserves our kindness because she wants to better her life, even though she is scared and it is hard.
I will tell you this part though.
I had to confront her business manager. He was not happy to see me. His first thought was that I was some douchebag from a cheap romance movie. His thought was that I was a John trying to buy this whore from him because I foolishly thought she was in love with me.
I may have some issues with thinking women like me more than they do, but I would never be foolish enough to think someone I pay to show me affection actually felt that affection. I suppose my low self-esteem is helpful here. Despite the sad commentary on my inner demon, it is helpful to have the thought, not even a hooker could love me.
I calmly explained that no, I wasn't a customer. I explained who I was. Then he got mad. Apparently E had pissed this man off as well. Thanks buddy, you know, you could have been a little nicer to people.
Moving on, this is when the man started getting threatening and mean. The old me might have simply removed this obstacle. The old me might have reacted violently to his machinations. The new me stood my ground but also calmed the situation. The new me used psychology and a superior thought process to smooth ruffled feathers.
I explained to the man what value she used to be to him and how that value was lost now. I explained how it made good business sense for him to move on to a newer source of income.
He bought what I was selling. It took over an hour but I made him see the value of not being involved with a woman who was no longer stable, and no longer under his thumb. I also explained to him how hurting her or I was counter to his business model.
I left that room without having expressed one threat. I left that room without having hurt anyone. I left that room without backing down. I left that room with my head high, my eyes forward and my mind clear.
I left that room and puked in the parking lot.
It occurs to me now that anger and rage trump fear every time, and the sympathetic nervous system is more powerful than the para-sympathetic nervous system, but that being strong has a different meaning now.
I went back to my hooker. I explained that she could not go back to her life now. I explained to her how she was at a crossroads. Before her lay two paths, and that I could not choose the path for her. I could help her down the path if she choose to follow me, but I could not pull her kicking and screaming.
That night we mourned for her old life. She explained to me the horror of her life, and I think for the first time in her life, someone listened without pity, without judgement and without anger.
For the first time in her life she had a real friend that night.
She also got very very high.
Once I passed out she was left alone with her thoughts, alone with her decision. It took her several hours to come to a conclusion, but when she woke me up she had made her choice. She chose to live.
Then I had a choice to make. My youth had been spent doing various things that could get you fucked up. I had tried everything I could to make myself blissfully unaware of my own pains. Sometimes I still dream of getting high. Sometimes I still wake up with the feeling of being high, and then suddenly sober up and want to get high. I haven't, for the most part.
Since I quit drugs I have smoked pot 5 or 6 times. I kind of give myself a pass on that, even though I shouldn't, but it has been more than ten years since I got clean, and I am glad for that.
This was the first time I had been staring down the barrel of having the means to get totally messed. I had been offered drugs a few times, mostly by E and I had always said no. I think I did it out of sheer stubbornness, not out of inner strength or determination to turn the corner on my own crap.
Yesterday morning I had about an 8-ball of meth in my hands. I had the means to make myself feel better in my hot little hands for the first time. I didn't pay for it, so it hadn't cost me a thing to get a hold of it.
I didn't owe it to anyone to be sober, and I didn't owe anyone for the drugs. I could do them, feel better, feel stronger and get back that feeling of power.
At this point I had a decision to make about who I am. Am I the guy who is strong enough to say no, or am I just the guy who is strong enough not to be around it.
As it turns out, I am the guy who can say no. Though it felt harder than it should have, I flushed the happy powder.
Taking a hooker to rehab really changed my life. Not in the sense that anything is different. I am still the person I was the day before this all began. I am still living in the same place, and I am still poor. I am still underemployed and I am still lonely.
What I am though is still a good person. I am still Strong in a way the old me could have never dreamed of it. Before I left I was a new person, but I hadn't been that person yet. Before I left I was a new man, with new skills, and none of that has changed.
Now I know who I am. And that has made all the difference.
I talked with that same friend because I wanted to explain this to them. I wanted to give this person a front row seat to who I am. I had thought that like me, they hadn't given me any credit for being this better angel of my nature. I thought this person saw me as pathetic and weak and thought I didn't have the ability to get the job done without resorting to violence and thuggary.
I was wrong.
Turns out this person was just scared I would get hurt. Turns out someone out there cares enough about me to be mad when I risk my safety. Turns out maybe I ma wrong about no one loving me.
I see this person's point, and I shall not be getting this involved in some one's care again. What I will be doing though is making sure that when I can help I will.
Today I feel good about myself.
Today I feel loved like I never have before because I love me.
Today I feel cared about because someone I care about almost said they care about me.
Today I feel good because there is one less lost soul wandering the world.
Today I feel good because I was able to do what none of my old friends could. I transcended my life and realised my potential rather than getting bogged down in my baggage.
Today is a good day.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Masculin Bovine Excrement
Gonna just get this out of the way, there are going to be one or two dirty words used here today. They are not gratuitous, but sometimes, just sometimes, naughty words are necessary. They convey the message in such a way that no other word can. Some people claim they are merely the work of a tired mind that lacks the ability to use more complex language to put forth an idea.
I disagree. Sometimes one word can convey the thought better than the Queen's english.
Today, that word is bullshit.
I had occasion to recently think about the bullshit we tell ourselves. The little white lies, and the huge gaping black hole lies that suck the world in on us. Both are the makings of disaster, and we seem to do it to ourselves and others constantly.
Everyone seems to hate to face reality. They avoid the truth of things at all costs when the truth is painful. It is a defense mechanism which we utilize everyday. The bullshit we tell ourselves.
One of those big black hole universe sucking lies is, "It'll be better in the morning," or "Tomorrow things will be better."
I remember being told this by my mother all the time when I was little and scared. She was lying. I am not sure if she knew she was lying, I don't have the heart to ask her. Things always seemed to get harder the next day as new pain, new stress or new fear floated in.
I remember Ian telling me this once. I remember laughing at him. I remember the look on his face, it was one of hurt, afterwards. He was wrong. I'd like to think that he was being hopeful and optimistic and not lying, but the truth is, he was goth before goth was cool. That means he always thought the world was going to end tomorrow.
Sometimes it becomes easier for us to tell us things will get better because we can't admit defeat, can't admit that sometimes things get much worse before they get better.
I often find myself wondering why we want to lie to ourselves, even when we want to protect ourselves. This is actually one defence mechanism that I do not possess. I never have been capable of lying to myself. I am not sure if that makes me more or less well adjusted than the average person.
I know far too many people who are so adept at lying to themselves, they rarely even know it is happening. Sometimes we fear things so much, or we are shocked by our own feelings so much we have to lie to ourselves and other about them. It makes it so much easier to cope. But it really doesn't.
What it does is expose that present bias. It exposes the idea that we are ok now because we will be better in the future. Things will be so different in the future that I do not have to worry about the here and now.
I will stop, or start feeling a different way in the future because that future is so different, I can ignore how I feel now. I can ignore the me I project today because the me of the future is actually not going to have to deal with this.
I often wonder what happens if we never deal with these feelings. I often wonder what would happen if we continued to lie about it until the lie becomes the truth and we believe it so much that no matter what someone says, the truth is not enough.
Is it possible to turn a lie in to a reality?
Is it possible to pretend something until that something is willed in to existence? Or, in the end, do we wake up one day, see the truth and cry.
The Navy Seals have a saying, it goes like this:
The only easy day was yesterday.
There is a truth in this. Not a pessimistic truth, but rather a reality of understanding. Today and tomorrow are going to be hard. We are going to have to work for them to make them something worth living and feeling, and once they pass in to history they will in fact be something to look back on fondly. Days to remember with pride and joy because, though it was work, it was hard, it was tiring, it was challenging, it was well worth it.
There is a saying that the SAS use that also applies.
Who dares wins.
You can't sit back and think that the world will change around you in to what you want. You can't say to yourself or anyone else that tomorrow is going to be better simply because it has to, simply because you want it to. You have to go out on a limb. You have to be willing to risk pain. You have to risk losing it all to gain it all. Without this risk there can be no tremendous reward.
Risk carries with it the possibility of pain. It carries with it the unknown, but the unknown is not to be feared, merely conquered.
Risk is much like crisis. It caries with it both danger and opportunity.
Turn from the easy and don't settle for some watered down version of your better tomorrow, and risk everything for the opportunity of everything that could make you happy.
If yesterday was the only easy day, than that makes today the greatest day, because today is the day of opportunity. Today is the day where you can stop the lies, stop the pain and frustration. Today is the day you can walk in the light of a brighter sun. Today is the day you can admit to yourself all the things you lie to yourself about because today is the day tomorrow begins on.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep
This weeks world defined list is all about the nap! It is a time honoured tradition, and one I have spent a good deal of my time studying it. This past Sunday I was able to return to the realm of the baseball nap, which you will shortly see is one of the best of the naps. This nap got me thinking.
I have tried every version of nap on all manner of surfaces and I am finally ready to present to you my results.
Science tells us that you need to reach REM sleep in order to feel truly rested. Yet, the power nap flies in the face of this knowledge.
A power nap is a short nap between 20 minutes and a half an hour. Technically this is not enough time to reach REM sleep, even if you are dreaming about overrated alternative bands. Because of this, one would assume that the power nap is a terrible idea. This is not so. The power nap can be incredibly rewarding to experience.
The best way to accomplish a power nap is to do it when you know something is going to wake you up in a half hour. When you know you have a task to perform upon waking this Nap is great for short bursts of energy. You wake up slightly refreshed, and then don't have time to think about it. Your brain immediately goes in to survival mode and kicks out the jams. You are alive and running around, and everything is great.
The only downside is that this nap is much like that fabled sugar high. You get a few quick hours of energy, but then you crash real freaking hard. While there is nothing like the rush of a power nap, there is also nothing so terrible as the crash that happens later. Your body simply shuts down and you will loose the ability to think.
This nap is only recommended for professional nappers who can handle their high.
This is the unintended nap. It is the result of working too hard or playing too hard. Thousands of people have fallen asleep at their desks for thousands of reasons, but the most common reason is boohugging (HA I managed to get it in there!).
This is essentially spending all night talking to the opposite sex until you pass out at the keyboard.
This is your brain shutting down to protect you. This may result in injury, or an embarrassing imprint on your face of a keyboard or desk blotter.
While this is unintentional napping, it tends to have a high reward when you wake. Generally people will feel relaxed and rejuvenated post nap, which all the better for continued boohugging.
This is truly the nap our scientists should be trying to figure out. If we could combine the power nap with the drool nap we would be able to rule the galaxy. I honestly think that if Darth Vader had been trying to learn these secrets rather than those of sith alchemy, Luke would have joined him, and we would have far fewer muppets to deal with today.
Drool napping is unpredictable, and it is nearly impossible to force. It can happen during any type of nap at any time. It transforms an ordinary nap into the most transformative experience an individual can have.
Waking from this state is so powerful you are disoriented at first. As understanding dawns, you will slowly wipe the drool from your face with the back of your hand. At first you will be a bit sickened by it, and then more so when you see the wet spot on whatever surface your face was resting. After the initial shock wears off you will realise you are now fully rested, and you had the strangest dreams....
This is the Nirvana of napping and can only be reached by repeated practice, or by getting lucky.
When it happens, rejoice in it, for there are those in this world who may never achieve such lofty heights.
A few things you should know about napping properly:
1. It is rarely, if ever recommended to nap in your own bed. This has the danger of turning from nap to legitimate sleep cycle. It will ruin you for days and have the opposite effect of what you intended.
2. It is usually recommended to have some type of noise in the background. Television and radio work well for this, and I personally recommend some type of sports programming. Sports related naps can have a wondrous effect on you, and it may allow you to convince your significant other to watch with you. The only caveat is that volume is a fickle mistress. Sports programs tend to get loud near the end, so be careful. Always set the volume low.
3. Do not set mechanical alarms. It is far too much like waking up in the morning and your body won`t understand and will just think you didn`t get enough sleep. Use humans to wake you, or hope you wake on your own.
4. Never complain about someone snoring during a nap, that is what they are for.
5. If you nap through it, it wasn`t important and it is just the universes way of telling you you shouldn`t have done it. Stop worrying.
6. I am going to stop and go take a nap now.
I have tried every version of nap on all manner of surfaces and I am finally ready to present to you my results.
The Travel Nap
This is really the most basic of naps, and it is also the worst. This nap is fitful, and the majority of us, unless ridiculously drunk, will come in and out of consciousness randomly.
A big characteristic of this nap is the head bob. This is where the chin meets the chest, then rockets upwards in that 5 year old, "I am not tired mom" way. This tends to cause serious neck trauma and generally leads to the required neck back rub, should a significant other be handy.
The only real value that this nap has is the fact that it is designed to make a long trip much shorter. This has some effect on the disposition of the napper, making them slightly more pleasant to be around at the end of the journey.
Mainly used on buses and planes, there is also a car variant of this; however, attempting to nap in a car is most likely going to be inefficient as whoever drives will wake you at regular intervals out of jealousy.
This is a very strange nap type because it defies science. Our best and brightest minds have been dispatched to study a very limited number of issues. We have managed to solve the floppy penis problem, so that was a win. What we haven't been able to do is harness the power of this nap and bottle it.
This is really the most basic of naps, and it is also the worst. This nap is fitful, and the majority of us, unless ridiculously drunk, will come in and out of consciousness randomly.A big characteristic of this nap is the head bob. This is where the chin meets the chest, then rockets upwards in that 5 year old, "I am not tired mom" way. This tends to cause serious neck trauma and generally leads to the required neck back rub, should a significant other be handy.
The only real value that this nap has is the fact that it is designed to make a long trip much shorter. This has some effect on the disposition of the napper, making them slightly more pleasant to be around at the end of the journey.
Mainly used on buses and planes, there is also a car variant of this; however, attempting to nap in a car is most likely going to be inefficient as whoever drives will wake you at regular intervals out of jealousy.
The Power Nap
This is a very strange nap type because it defies science. Our best and brightest minds have been dispatched to study a very limited number of issues. We have managed to solve the floppy penis problem, so that was a win. What we haven't been able to do is harness the power of this nap and bottle it.
Science tells us that you need to reach REM sleep in order to feel truly rested. Yet, the power nap flies in the face of this knowledge.
A power nap is a short nap between 20 minutes and a half an hour. Technically this is not enough time to reach REM sleep, even if you are dreaming about overrated alternative bands. Because of this, one would assume that the power nap is a terrible idea. This is not so. The power nap can be incredibly rewarding to experience.
The best way to accomplish a power nap is to do it when you know something is going to wake you up in a half hour. When you know you have a task to perform upon waking this Nap is great for short bursts of energy. You wake up slightly refreshed, and then don't have time to think about it. Your brain immediately goes in to survival mode and kicks out the jams. You are alive and running around, and everything is great.
The only downside is that this nap is much like that fabled sugar high. You get a few quick hours of energy, but then you crash real freaking hard. While there is nothing like the rush of a power nap, there is also nothing so terrible as the crash that happens later. Your body simply shuts down and you will loose the ability to think.
This nap is only recommended for professional nappers who can handle their high.
Emergency Nap
This is the unintended nap. It is the result of working too hard or playing too hard. Thousands of people have fallen asleep at their desks for thousands of reasons, but the most common reason is boohugging (HA I managed to get it in there!).
This is essentially spending all night talking to the opposite sex until you pass out at the keyboard.
This is your brain shutting down to protect you. This may result in injury, or an embarrassing imprint on your face of a keyboard or desk blotter.
While this is unintentional napping, it tends to have a high reward when you wake. Generally people will feel relaxed and rejuvenated post nap, which all the better for continued boohugging.
The Drool Nap
This is truly the nap our scientists should be trying to figure out. If we could combine the power nap with the drool nap we would be able to rule the galaxy. I honestly think that if Darth Vader had been trying to learn these secrets rather than those of sith alchemy, Luke would have joined him, and we would have far fewer muppets to deal with today.
Drool napping is unpredictable, and it is nearly impossible to force. It can happen during any type of nap at any time. It transforms an ordinary nap into the most transformative experience an individual can have.
Waking from this state is so powerful you are disoriented at first. As understanding dawns, you will slowly wipe the drool from your face with the back of your hand. At first you will be a bit sickened by it, and then more so when you see the wet spot on whatever surface your face was resting. After the initial shock wears off you will realise you are now fully rested, and you had the strangest dreams....
This is the Nirvana of napping and can only be reached by repeated practice, or by getting lucky.
When it happens, rejoice in it, for there are those in this world who may never achieve such lofty heights.
A few things you should know about napping properly:
1. It is rarely, if ever recommended to nap in your own bed. This has the danger of turning from nap to legitimate sleep cycle. It will ruin you for days and have the opposite effect of what you intended.
2. It is usually recommended to have some type of noise in the background. Television and radio work well for this, and I personally recommend some type of sports programming. Sports related naps can have a wondrous effect on you, and it may allow you to convince your significant other to watch with you. The only caveat is that volume is a fickle mistress. Sports programs tend to get loud near the end, so be careful. Always set the volume low.
3. Do not set mechanical alarms. It is far too much like waking up in the morning and your body won`t understand and will just think you didn`t get enough sleep. Use humans to wake you, or hope you wake on your own.
4. Never complain about someone snoring during a nap, that is what they are for.
5. If you nap through it, it wasn`t important and it is just the universes way of telling you you shouldn`t have done it. Stop worrying.
6. I am going to stop and go take a nap now.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Endless Nameless
Today is April 5th, which doesn`t seem like a big deal to very many people, and rightfully so. To me it is the day one of my heroes killed himself.
Like many people in my generation, Kurt Cobain is one of those defining celebrity characters. He came around at a time when I felt life slipping away from me. He was there when nothing seemed to have meaning to me. I won`t say that he provided meaning, that would give him and music way too much power.
I will say that he gave voice to my feelings, voice to my thoughts, and voice to my desires. In a strange way, he spoke for me in a way I never could.
Kurt Cobain had a strange voice, a strange style and a strange manner about him. It was my voice, my style and my manner.
What most people fail to realise about the style is that it was the style of poor. All of those cool clothes that people rushed out to buy from department stores were the clothes we all got from goodwill. Our hair was wild because we didn`t want to spend what little we had on hair cuts.
Style was never important to us, it was always about substance, and I think that was one of the things that weighed too heavily on a tortured soul.
In a way, he had become all the things he hated. He became a parody of himself along with an icon to people who would have never given him the time of day previously.
This was why he was so important to me. I felt like I got it, like for the first time I was on the inside. I was part of the winking few who truly got the message, truly felt the sorrow for a world that had passed us by.
Kurt was special to me because he played the music we played at street level like it was something real. He made our feelings real by plastering them all over the billboards for everyone to see. I know that sucked for him, but it meant the world to me.
Because he came along, I had power. I had a chance to speak my mind because now people were open to listening to what we had to say.
I know he wasn`t alone in this, but he was one of, if not the best.
I will forever remember him for the gifts he gave me.
I am glad that his music lives on in my head, and am glad that we at least have something of him left to share.
On this strange and horrid anniversary, I say thanks man, and present to you guys a little taste here of what it was like for me.
RIP you fucking psycho!
Like many people in my generation, Kurt Cobain is one of those defining celebrity characters. He came around at a time when I felt life slipping away from me. He was there when nothing seemed to have meaning to me. I won`t say that he provided meaning, that would give him and music way too much power.
I will say that he gave voice to my feelings, voice to my thoughts, and voice to my desires. In a strange way, he spoke for me in a way I never could.
Kurt Cobain had a strange voice, a strange style and a strange manner about him. It was my voice, my style and my manner.
What most people fail to realise about the style is that it was the style of poor. All of those cool clothes that people rushed out to buy from department stores were the clothes we all got from goodwill. Our hair was wild because we didn`t want to spend what little we had on hair cuts.
Style was never important to us, it was always about substance, and I think that was one of the things that weighed too heavily on a tortured soul.
In a way, he had become all the things he hated. He became a parody of himself along with an icon to people who would have never given him the time of day previously.
This was why he was so important to me. I felt like I got it, like for the first time I was on the inside. I was part of the winking few who truly got the message, truly felt the sorrow for a world that had passed us by.
Kurt was special to me because he played the music we played at street level like it was something real. He made our feelings real by plastering them all over the billboards for everyone to see. I know that sucked for him, but it meant the world to me.
Because he came along, I had power. I had a chance to speak my mind because now people were open to listening to what we had to say.
I know he wasn`t alone in this, but he was one of, if not the best.
I will forever remember him for the gifts he gave me.
I am glad that his music lives on in my head, and am glad that we at least have something of him left to share.
On this strange and horrid anniversary, I say thanks man, and present to you guys a little taste here of what it was like for me.
RIP you fucking psycho!
BZZZZZZ Origins
Jeremy was the very picture of dichotomy and strangeness. He was at once average and below average. He sported a pot belly made of cheeseburgers and beer. He also had a nice face to balance this.
Born of an average intellect, Jeremy's future was not bright. He could not aspire to greatness, but merely to a mediocrity of just above minimum wage spending as much on lottery tickets as on personal grooming products.
That isn't to say that he didn't bath regularly, or use soap when he did so, merely that his routine was a mixed bag of not shaving enough, using expensive soaps, cleansers and exfoliates or even brushing every night.
His extravagance was all about food. Fast food really. He didn't even do it because he liked it, he did it because he had no idea how to cook. Sure, he could survive on the food he could cook, but who would choose to eat Rice a Roni and hamburger helper over a double beef burrito? A sack of white castles? A BigMac, and don't forget those giant salty fries, oh the fries!
Due to his limited intellect, Jeremy found himself in the exciting world of telephone customer service. His boss claimed it was a fast paced creative environment that allowed him to help people and feel good about his contribution to society. Even Jeremy knew this was not true, but his ambition and short comings led him to a complacent place where change and advancement were simply not possible.
Three years in to his tenure of helping people with their computer problems over the telephone Jeremy was content, if not happy, but fate had a different plan for this youngish man. Fsate is a foul temptress who can never be denied.
Jeremy's one hobby, the one thing that kept him from his television, and his world of warcraft account was bee keeping. It seemed like a weird thing to be in to according to his coworkers and guildmates online. Jeremy didn't care. There was a peace, a calm in the rush of life that came only when he was staring at the latticework of a beehive.
Few understood his passion, and even fewer still would have even guessed he had a passion, such was his melancholic way.
This was at the center of his dichotomy. In the rest of his life, nothing held his interest for any length of time, nor drove him to such heights of bliss as standing there in his hood and padded armor. That is how he thought of it anyway. He fancied himself a knight when he donned his gear. A valiant protector of these small flying scavengers.
The day Jeremy's earth shook was little different than any other. He awoke to the alarm, got ready for work and grabbed a breakfast burrito.
Work was not tough, just annoying. He really didn't know how to fix any one's computer, but he sure did know how to run a database search for answers people required. After a long day of googling stuff, Jeremy was ready for a Big Mac on the way to his hive.
Once there, Jeremy's sullen look changed to that of a happy boy. He strode confidently towards the hive, clad in his armor, and his life, and the world changed forever.
What Jeremy didn't know was that a new wind was blowing. Not just the wind of change, but also the wind of fallout. Two weeks prior, there had been a massive reactor failure in Japan after a devastating natural disaster. The fallout from this disaster travelled a great distance to find Jeremy on the coast of California.
The wind carried radiation. Not the killing kind ; rather, the kind that all of those cheesey comic books discussed. The transformative type of radiation that can only mean strange things are a foot.
As the wind finally reached his place of being, Jeremy was opening up the hive. Several bees came rushing out. They were caught in the draft and whipped into a frenzy by the maddening levels of radiation, their small bodies unable to cope with the pulsating rays. The brains of these tiny insects became a torrent of animalistic furor.
Jeremy did not understand what was happening. All he knew was that something had spooked his charges. They were flying around him in maddening quick circles, their pace quickening at each pass, the sound of their buzzing wings filled Jeremy''s ears with a rumble.
Normally his armor would have been enough to protect him, but these were irradiated bees. Their strength heightened, their instincts boiled to madness.
Several of the bees made it through the protection and stung Jeremy. He recoiled in frustration more than pain. Why was this happening? How had he lost control of his tiny adopted children?
Each sting released radiation directly in to his bloodstream. Each sting brought him one step closer to a new existence.
It took Jeremy several minutes to get things under control. His interest in the hobby was lost for the night once he did. Failure is one of life's great cold showers. It breaks the hold many things have over us when we feel its gut punch.
Jeremy left his hive behind, and made his way home.
It was a night of fit full sleep, as nothing seemed to be going right, not even his dreams. He bolted upright at 3am, drenched in a feverish sweat. Jeremy got to his feet shakily and glided to the bathroom in his bachelor apartment.
Looking in the mirror he could see his hair matted to his forehead, his wild eyes had epic luggage under them too. His jowls were swollen for some reason.
Jeremy's big idea was to take a shower to try and cool off. This was apparently a terrible idea, as the water made him feel nauseous, like he was being drowned, or maybe just held down and thus his movements were sluggish.
As he got out of the shower he felt a sudden pain jolt his spine. There was a ripping sound as the flesh of his back parted. Jeremy was going insane, no doubt about it.
He reached back to feel his wounds, but instead found.... wings!
What the hell was happening to him?
Slowly over the next 18 hours, Jeremy went through a new puberty, and it was not pleasant. Slowly he was transformed from a normal average pudgy dude, to a man sized bee like creature.
The amazing thing was how much of himself he kept inside his head. He did not become a mindless drone, but rather himself, but with wings and a fuzzy black and yellow belly. Also, he now had a long stinger coming out of his ass.
Once the transformation was complete, Jeremy decided he needed to test this situation out. He jumped out of his third floor window and began to sore.
It took him sometime to grasp the concepts of human flight, but once he did, he was able to hover, float, dive and soar like any bee.
Suddenly Jeremy was no longer average. Suddenly Jeremy felt a power coursing through his veins that had never been there before. Suddenly Jeremy could do anything.
Most people faced with such a situation had a decision to make.
Most people would have to decide whether this was a power to be used for good, or for ill.
The decision was pretty easy for Jeremy. A life of being an after thought, of being held down by not only his own limitations, but also the mean actions of others made the decision so much easier.
Jeremy had power now, and the world would know it, and feel it!
Perched high atop the city, his new limbs clinging with ease to a church cross, Jeremy screamed to the world:
"Look out world, here I come! I can eat flowers and crap honey, beware my power!"
All the world heard, if it had cared, was a loud BZZZZ sound.
For those of you wondering wtf this is, I can only explain it to you thusly. A short time ago, which actually translate in to years in the internet world, the ever talented and beautiful Alison Rosen made s brief joke on a podcast. This is my attempt to declare my intentions to woo her... or to get some attention or something.
So I hope you enjoyed it, and yes, it is intentionally bad and cliched.
Born of an average intellect, Jeremy's future was not bright. He could not aspire to greatness, but merely to a mediocrity of just above minimum wage spending as much on lottery tickets as on personal grooming products.
That isn't to say that he didn't bath regularly, or use soap when he did so, merely that his routine was a mixed bag of not shaving enough, using expensive soaps, cleansers and exfoliates or even brushing every night.
His extravagance was all about food. Fast food really. He didn't even do it because he liked it, he did it because he had no idea how to cook. Sure, he could survive on the food he could cook, but who would choose to eat Rice a Roni and hamburger helper over a double beef burrito? A sack of white castles? A BigMac, and don't forget those giant salty fries, oh the fries!
Due to his limited intellect, Jeremy found himself in the exciting world of telephone customer service. His boss claimed it was a fast paced creative environment that allowed him to help people and feel good about his contribution to society. Even Jeremy knew this was not true, but his ambition and short comings led him to a complacent place where change and advancement were simply not possible.
Three years in to his tenure of helping people with their computer problems over the telephone Jeremy was content, if not happy, but fate had a different plan for this youngish man. Fsate is a foul temptress who can never be denied.
Jeremy's one hobby, the one thing that kept him from his television, and his world of warcraft account was bee keeping. It seemed like a weird thing to be in to according to his coworkers and guildmates online. Jeremy didn't care. There was a peace, a calm in the rush of life that came only when he was staring at the latticework of a beehive.
Few understood his passion, and even fewer still would have even guessed he had a passion, such was his melancholic way.
This was at the center of his dichotomy. In the rest of his life, nothing held his interest for any length of time, nor drove him to such heights of bliss as standing there in his hood and padded armor. That is how he thought of it anyway. He fancied himself a knight when he donned his gear. A valiant protector of these small flying scavengers.
The day Jeremy's earth shook was little different than any other. He awoke to the alarm, got ready for work and grabbed a breakfast burrito.
Work was not tough, just annoying. He really didn't know how to fix any one's computer, but he sure did know how to run a database search for answers people required. After a long day of googling stuff, Jeremy was ready for a Big Mac on the way to his hive.
Once there, Jeremy's sullen look changed to that of a happy boy. He strode confidently towards the hive, clad in his armor, and his life, and the world changed forever.
What Jeremy didn't know was that a new wind was blowing. Not just the wind of change, but also the wind of fallout. Two weeks prior, there had been a massive reactor failure in Japan after a devastating natural disaster. The fallout from this disaster travelled a great distance to find Jeremy on the coast of California.
The wind carried radiation. Not the killing kind ; rather, the kind that all of those cheesey comic books discussed. The transformative type of radiation that can only mean strange things are a foot.
As the wind finally reached his place of being, Jeremy was opening up the hive. Several bees came rushing out. They were caught in the draft and whipped into a frenzy by the maddening levels of radiation, their small bodies unable to cope with the pulsating rays. The brains of these tiny insects became a torrent of animalistic furor.
Jeremy did not understand what was happening. All he knew was that something had spooked his charges. They were flying around him in maddening quick circles, their pace quickening at each pass, the sound of their buzzing wings filled Jeremy''s ears with a rumble.
Normally his armor would have been enough to protect him, but these were irradiated bees. Their strength heightened, their instincts boiled to madness.
Several of the bees made it through the protection and stung Jeremy. He recoiled in frustration more than pain. Why was this happening? How had he lost control of his tiny adopted children?
Each sting released radiation directly in to his bloodstream. Each sting brought him one step closer to a new existence.
It took Jeremy several minutes to get things under control. His interest in the hobby was lost for the night once he did. Failure is one of life's great cold showers. It breaks the hold many things have over us when we feel its gut punch.
Jeremy left his hive behind, and made his way home.
It was a night of fit full sleep, as nothing seemed to be going right, not even his dreams. He bolted upright at 3am, drenched in a feverish sweat. Jeremy got to his feet shakily and glided to the bathroom in his bachelor apartment.
Looking in the mirror he could see his hair matted to his forehead, his wild eyes had epic luggage under them too. His jowls were swollen for some reason.
Jeremy's big idea was to take a shower to try and cool off. This was apparently a terrible idea, as the water made him feel nauseous, like he was being drowned, or maybe just held down and thus his movements were sluggish.
As he got out of the shower he felt a sudden pain jolt his spine. There was a ripping sound as the flesh of his back parted. Jeremy was going insane, no doubt about it.
He reached back to feel his wounds, but instead found.... wings!
What the hell was happening to him?
Slowly over the next 18 hours, Jeremy went through a new puberty, and it was not pleasant. Slowly he was transformed from a normal average pudgy dude, to a man sized bee like creature.
The amazing thing was how much of himself he kept inside his head. He did not become a mindless drone, but rather himself, but with wings and a fuzzy black and yellow belly. Also, he now had a long stinger coming out of his ass.
Once the transformation was complete, Jeremy decided he needed to test this situation out. He jumped out of his third floor window and began to sore.
It took him sometime to grasp the concepts of human flight, but once he did, he was able to hover, float, dive and soar like any bee.
Suddenly Jeremy was no longer average. Suddenly Jeremy felt a power coursing through his veins that had never been there before. Suddenly Jeremy could do anything.
Most people faced with such a situation had a decision to make.
Most people would have to decide whether this was a power to be used for good, or for ill.
The decision was pretty easy for Jeremy. A life of being an after thought, of being held down by not only his own limitations, but also the mean actions of others made the decision so much easier.
Jeremy had power now, and the world would know it, and feel it!
Perched high atop the city, his new limbs clinging with ease to a church cross, Jeremy screamed to the world:
"Look out world, here I come! I can eat flowers and crap honey, beware my power!"
All the world heard, if it had cared, was a loud BZZZZ sound.
For those of you wondering wtf this is, I can only explain it to you thusly. A short time ago, which actually translate in to years in the internet world, the ever talented and beautiful Alison Rosen made s brief joke on a podcast. This is my attempt to declare my intentions to woo her... or to get some attention or something.
So I hope you enjoyed it, and yes, it is intentionally bad and cliched.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Podcast S01E04
Shock the monkey!
Listen in as Alley loses her sanity and brings the monkey down with her. This pod is all about Alley's weekend and the stuff that happened. She provides startling insights in to her personality and her menstrual cycle.
You can download the mp3 here.
Things you should know:
1. Alley swears like a drunken sailor.
2. The monkey is scared.
3. Much of her story had to be edited to protect the innocent people, as well as the guilty.
4. Did I mention the swearing?
5. Those who are not in to period talk should run and hide. It is very brief, and explains a lot but it is there.
6. Crazy people are crazy.
7. The rules for hiring a hitman are discussed at length, as well as proper compensation.
8. The monkey would gladly kill someone for you if you are hot and are willing to make out with him for a bit.
9. I know way too much about whores.
10. Naming your child Destiny is pretty much like giving up and buying her a stripper pole for her 18th birthday.
11. Headphone etiquette is srs bzns.
12. I am ending the list here so we don't have to worry about a number 12. That would just be too scary.
As always, you can comment or complain about what you have heard here today.
Leave a comment or email us
onemonkeymedia@gmail.com
alleythemonkeytramer@gmail.com
Find us on the:
Facebooks
twitter
and random other places that may seem like a good idea at the time.
Listen in as Alley loses her sanity and brings the monkey down with her. This pod is all about Alley's weekend and the stuff that happened. She provides startling insights in to her personality and her menstrual cycle.
You can download the mp3 here.
Things you should know:
1. Alley swears like a drunken sailor.
2. The monkey is scared.
3. Much of her story had to be edited to protect the innocent people, as well as the guilty.
4. Did I mention the swearing?
5. Those who are not in to period talk should run and hide. It is very brief, and explains a lot but it is there.
6. Crazy people are crazy.
7. The rules for hiring a hitman are discussed at length, as well as proper compensation.
8. The monkey would gladly kill someone for you if you are hot and are willing to make out with him for a bit.
9. I know way too much about whores.
10. Naming your child Destiny is pretty much like giving up and buying her a stripper pole for her 18th birthday.
11. Headphone etiquette is srs bzns.
12. I am ending the list here so we don't have to worry about a number 12. That would just be too scary.
As always, you can comment or complain about what you have heard here today.
Leave a comment or email us
onemonkeymedia@gmail.com
alleythemonkeytramer@gmail.com
Find us on the:
Facebooks
and random other places that may seem like a good idea at the time.
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