We all love acronyms. Working in IT, I see wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy too many of them on a daily basis. Let's make one up for LOVE, shall we? Here are 4 verbs I think are key to maintaining a relationship based on love. It can be a lover, family, or just a good friend. Love comes in many shapes, but for the most part, the same rules apply.
Learn
You won't get very far if you don't learn from your mistakes, successes, reactions, emotions, and advice from others.
Mistakes and successes make sense. You don't do the wrong thing again, and you keep doing the stuff that works well. Key being you can't JUST do those things. You always have to adapt and try new things, which obviously leaves you open to keep making mistakes, but at the end of the day we're all still human (most of us) and progress is what counts.
Come to know the reactions of your loved ones and what that means for you, as well as learn your own emotions when reacting in such situations. If you feel guilty for something, it may be warranted, and you need to be aware of why that is. If you feel bad for doing something, trust your loved one for guidance on whether or not that feeling is warranted.
Sometimes, I feel guilty for things that I shouldn't, only because it does involve someone I love, and not just myself or in some cases, people that I just don't care too much about (see another post about just being kind in general). I feel this is fine too, and perfectly normal, but you don't need to be able to recognize it and not dwell on it, or worse move that negative energy on to the loved ones.
Offer
Offer help. Offer guidance. Offer up positive energy. Make sure the other person isn't afraid to ask for things. After all, love in a way "entitles" each of us to think we have the capacity to both offer ourselves and get in return. Doesn't mean "yes" is always the answer, but the general feeling of "let's give and get" should be encouraged I feel.
Validate and Verify
Verify your love every once in a while. There's no official agency to accredit it, and no right or wrong way to determine it. But think about it.
We all go through phases where we take love for each other for granted, where we just assume that we still love them (and that they love us too!). I find it healthy to sit and examine your "love" relationships and ensure that it still means the same to you. If for some reason it doesn't, that does NOT necessarily mean that you don't love someone anymore, but that you really do need to work on something and get back to a point where you do, or it's simply time for that part of whatever relationship it is to end.
We all love in different capacities, shapes, and forms. The love I've held for some people has changed over the years (weak to strong, strong to weak, friend to love, etc.) and that's OK. You (and the other person involved) just need to be aware of it, for boundaries' sake. And sanity's sake.
Evolve
Kinda goes along with learn. Become not only different and more well-rounded people, but develop more well-rounded relationships with loved ones. Do new things, explore new feelings, look for the next thing to keep you excited and wanting to be part of each others' lives.
Some relationship are honestly just good the way they are, and that's fine. I do not believe that's the majority however. Keep things fresh. It'll be fun to recollect and say "Hey that was a funny time when we were all into vegan eating" or "remember when we played Connect 4 every Sunday for like 6 months?" I mean, that sounds a bit trite, but finding new ways to define your relationship and add flavor or color to them is key to keeping you aware and interested. Plus, it makes it that much easier for both sides to see "we need a change" when maybe things seem stale.
Summary
Love is a living thing that dies without proper care. Trying to dumb it down to a few simple rules is nearly impossible, and all we can really do is keep an open mind, and observe what happens around us, both to ourselves and to others. Love makes the world go round, that's all I know. And I feel best when loving, in love, and being loved. So I keep a close eye on love in my life and want to keep that a priority.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
The Art of Saying No (sort of)
This is written from the heart, because at times I have found myself to be a huge people-pleaser. I can honestly say that now (and for a while) I've done what I felt is right and what I believe in, stand up for, but it was a long road to get to this place.
I strongly believe that until one can take care of oneself, one cannot fully take care of another human being. This might be oversimplifying things a bit, but the general idea is a truth. It's more about a state of mind really than singular actions or thoughts.
I feel people apply this sort of thinking to many facets of life: body (food, exercise, booze, sleep, routines), mind (reading, writing, music, art, entertainment), work (taking care of personal things throughout the day, not working too much, keeping stress low), and people.
The key is to just become comfortable with yourself and let your subconscious make all of your decisions for you without having to think too hard about any one thing. Listen to the inner you. Easy, right?
The key is to just become comfortable with yourself and let your subconscious make all of your decisions for you without having to think too hard about any one thing. Listen to the inner you. Easy, right?
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(Note: the above pattern was caused my me wiping my laptop down with a napkin after the flight attendant just spilled some OJ on my keyboard. It's neat, so I am leaving it in. It might mean something.)
Now life is never this perfect, and we always have to make considerations and weigh options when making choices. But we do get closer and closer to ourselves in terms of trusting our gut enough to point us in the right direction.
I ramble yet again. Maybe I need to listen to my body and sleep more so I can focus more easily on the task at hand.
So yes, people-pleasing and worrying too much about what others think of you and how this can mess us up. Rather than construct a nicely flowing essay, let me make a few points and the rest of the connections should just fall into place.
* Saying "No" is healthy *
This is the most arduous and painstaking task of all. Someone simply asking you to meet them for a drink, but you don't want to drink at all. Or someone asking you to go on a trip and you're broke but had told them previously you could make it happen. Or someone suggesting a particular place for dinner that you don't actually like. Whatever the reasoning, there are times when we simply need to say no.
Now believe me, we all need flexibility, and have gone against what we thought was the bad choice and ended up in a very good or fortuitous place. These things certainly happen, and all help us find that happy middle ground. But that's not the point for now.
You might say yes and find yourself in a situation that makes you very uncomfortable. And you knew ahead of time the probability of you feeling this way.
You might say yes and not be in the right state of mind or body, and cause an adverse effect on others. No good.
You might say yes because you're worried that you'll offend someone, piss off a friend, not get a promotion, not get laid.
You might say yes and find yourself in a situation that makes you very uncomfortable. And you knew ahead of time the probability of you feeling this way.
You might say yes and not be in the right state of mind or body, and cause an adverse effect on others. No good.
You might say yes because you're worried that you'll offend someone, piss off a friend, not get a promotion, not get laid.
You begrudgingly accept someone else's choice, and you become bitter afterward.
Whatever the reasoning, we usually know when we should say no, but we don't.
* Glass half-empty vs. Glass half-full *
Go into any interpersonal encounter without your heart or mind into it, and it could be noticeable. Nothing is worse than you having to ask someone to repeat themselves over and over, not because you couldn't hear them, but because you weren't even paying attention. You can sense it in them.
If you know you need to be 100 percent, and you won't be, then say no.
There's something to be said though about just showing up. Sometimes, the situation warrants simply your presence. Sometimes presence can even be too much, so you still have to be aware before going in to it.
* Setting yourself up for failure *
Say yes all the time, and how are people (and more importantly, yourself) going to react when you say no? Maybe they'll think something is wrong with you. Maybe you'll believe you let someone or yourself down. Who knows! Who cares! The point is that you cannot make the best choices without saying NO to suboptimal ones first.
* They won't care if you say No *
One of the most brilliant and revealing aspects of a "saying no" refresher is that you quickly realize who true friends are, and what is most important to them.
I preface this again by emphasizing the motive behind the No. This assumes you have a legit reason, and aren't just a flake. We flake sometimes for sure, but when conscious thought goes into it, that's not an excuse.
Friends will realize that you have to take care of other priorities, settle other things up before you can commit your energy and care and love for them. They'll probably even offer to help you, because odds are they want you to be the best you can, and with that comes choices, and they'll know the choices aren't personal and are just part of a grander scheme.
Jesus. I just reread the above few paragraphs and I don't think they make any sense. I knew this was a difficult topic, but you've got to be kidding me. I made all A's in all my writing and English classes too!
So it becomes a cycle. We try not to people please by taking care of ourselves and doing things for the right reasons, yet this actually PLEASES the right people in your life, so we end up people pleasing anyways, and it becomes one big circle of pleasure. That doesn't sound right, but you catch my drift.
If you know you need to be 100 percent, and you won't be, then say no.
There's something to be said though about just showing up. Sometimes, the situation warrants simply your presence. Sometimes presence can even be too much, so you still have to be aware before going in to it.
* Setting yourself up for failure *
Say yes all the time, and how are people (and more importantly, yourself) going to react when you say no? Maybe they'll think something is wrong with you. Maybe you'll believe you let someone or yourself down. Who knows! Who cares! The point is that you cannot make the best choices without saying NO to suboptimal ones first.
* They won't care if you say No *
One of the most brilliant and revealing aspects of a "saying no" refresher is that you quickly realize who true friends are, and what is most important to them.
I preface this again by emphasizing the motive behind the No. This assumes you have a legit reason, and aren't just a flake. We flake sometimes for sure, but when conscious thought goes into it, that's not an excuse.
Friends will realize that you have to take care of other priorities, settle other things up before you can commit your energy and care and love for them. They'll probably even offer to help you, because odds are they want you to be the best you can, and with that comes choices, and they'll know the choices aren't personal and are just part of a grander scheme.
Jesus. I just reread the above few paragraphs and I don't think they make any sense. I knew this was a difficult topic, but you've got to be kidding me. I made all A's in all my writing and English classes too!
So it becomes a cycle. We try not to people please by taking care of ourselves and doing things for the right reasons, yet this actually PLEASES the right people in your life, so we end up people pleasing anyways, and it becomes one big circle of pleasure. That doesn't sound right, but you catch my drift.
People on a Plane
There are certain things one just shouldn't do on airplanes. I write this on a plane now, hence the inspiration for such a topic. Allow me to construct a short list of those things which REALLY annoy me when I am on a plane. Things that are just downright rude.
1) Annoying children
A lot of what I write/feel/live by has to deal with positive energy, and being nice to people no matter how they act towards you, and generally just oozing positive energy in order to hopefully get some of that energy to those who need it. For a moment, I step away from that mantra, and enjoy a little pure hatred.
If you cannot keep your own kids under control, please don't bring them onto an enclosed vessel where everyone will have to witness your futility at being a parent. You don't want this much negative energy built up around your kid. They will carry a burden with them forever, maybe not knowing at the time, but having been around a large group of people who absolutely despise them. And would wish to kill them.
This kid in front of us has been pestering his mother and sister during the entire flight. He yells things like:
"Tell me when it is 6:30". And he keeps saying it. Obviously because he wants to make sure he doesn't miss Hanna Montana when it comes on TV. Little bitch. The kid, not Hannah Montana.
"MY SCREEN IS FULLSCREEN AND YOURS ISN'T", to his sister next to him.
"WHY ARE WE MOVING BACKWARDS?" while taxiing out of the gate. Idiot.
**** OK, now he's crying. The three of us are now discussing what is the easiest way to kill him. ****
* He's wearing headphones. And screaming. And pressing his face against the screen. It's getting a bit ridiculous. Everyone is watching. Now he is hitting his mom. This kid really sucks.
* Now he is fighting his sister. The father keeps looking back (he is one row up) and you can tell that he really wishes the situation would just resolve itself. This is the best birth control in history.
2) Farting
Are you kidding me? People actually fart on airplanes. This is one of the single most selfish acts a human being could commit. There are bathrooms on a plane for a reason. Also, don't forget that we're going to be sitting in the same air for hours on end. That fart isn't going anywhere.
**** NOW HE'S PLAYING THE "NO I AM NOT SITTING NEXT TO SOMEONE ELSE BECAUSE I DON'T FEEL LIKE IT". Stupid kid. ****
Back to farting. It's just plain wrong. Go to the bathroom. And the worst, don't act like you didn't do it. We all know you did.
3) Unprompt drink service
We're on a plane. What else do you do on a plain but drink? Please be quicker with the drinks. Thank you.
4) Pointless announcements
I love the announcement that goes something like "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are going through some turbulence right now ..." REALLY??? I couldn't tell when the plane felt like it was shaking itself to pieces. I thought that was normal. THANKS.
OK I am done complaining now. I am actually enjoy my plane ride as I usually do. The kid is really what sparked my irritation. Planes in general are a complex exercise of patience and tolerance. And thanks to a healthy amount of flying in my life, I have hopefully become a more tolerant and patient person.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
It's the little things (I think)
No matter what, I can say one thing: my life is far from boring and ordinary. And that pleases me to no end.
I think this is so for several reasons. One are external circumstances. Things such as the fact that my jobs have given me great flexibility in terms of the ability to travel, have a random work schedule, and travel to interesting and new places FOR work. I also have wonderful friends and random connections, have lived in great cities, and just happen to be in the right place at the right time a lot.
Another is my slightly manic, adventurous, conniving, and self-destructive nature. The things that I think of (and follow through with), the mode in which I operate (I think I turn it up to 11 quite often), and my general maxim of "always look on the bright side" help greatly.
I think as a human being, I am 100 percent filling that role. We're all creatures of pleasure, and all I try to do is seek pleasure, do things that make me feel good, and try to let that pleasure seep into those I find that pleasure with. Wow, rereading that sentence, I feel like I should write a column for Penthouse about pleasure. I'll leave that out of this blog.
Anyways, I think I should expand more on these tenets at some point. But for now, back to the non-boring life I lead.
My non-boring life leads me to my current situation. I sit at JFK airport, awaiting a flight to Washington D.C., which will then connect me to Raleigh N.C. My flexible job allows me to take a Thursday afternoon flight and work remotely on a Friday. I'm heading to Raleigh because I have awesome friends I love who pull me there. So I'm flying to N.C. for a few days to have some pleasure.
Now, it's around 4 p.m., and my flight should leave in 30 minutes. I was SUPPOSED to leave at 1:30 on a direct flight, but that one was canceled due to plane maintenance.
I originally had a 7:30 flight booked to Raleigh, but paid some cash to fly earlier to avoid potential evening traffic delays in the sky. A lot of help that did. I'll end up (hopefully) arriving in Raleigh only about an hour before my original flight was set to arrive.
So I'm on a mini adventure now, sweating the connection times a bit, and generally just existing in limbo right now. I kinda like feeling like that at times. Airports give me a lot of comfort, because I am absolutely in control of NOTHING, and just have to be forced to exist. Sure, that's frustrating at times (like when planes don't work), but in general, I have no obligation or responsibility to do anything but find things to amuse (there goes a pleasure reference again) myself. Selfish me.
People should travel more. Not necessarily for the destination, but the travel process. It's invigorating! You're leaving town! Pack your bags! Who cares where, but in a few hours, you're going to be somewhere you weren't earlier in the day. New things await that your normal circumstances and routine might not allow you to experience.
Sitting in the airport today has been anything but dull, keeping my attention throughout my various frustrations and travel failures. The following things have occurred today:
1) Two parents teaching their kid to read by having him read a tribute magazine for Michael Jackson. It was strange.
2) Got to witness a Delta representative get on the phone with a 15 year old girl's dad to explain the cancellation situation to him, and watch the horror and fear creep up on his face during the call. Even though there is absolutely nothing that could have happened to the Delta guy, it's nice to see that fearing a girl's father is still mostly universal.
3) Got a whistle blown at me twice while almost getting run over by a guy driving the handicap/elder cart.
4) Was part of a photo shoot for a Delta ad, which was during our delay! The guy asked if people would mind not lying on the ground for the shoot, to which a collective guffaw was thrown.
5) Saw a kid with a "Jesus Rocks" shirt which was in a heavy metal font. Capitalism!
All in all, there's nothing absolutely crazy about my day, no story that is eating me alive because I need to keep sharing it over and over. No, just a slightly unusual day, and not being the norm is enough for me. It means that I cannot just say today was another day. I like that.
Who knows what awaits in D.C.!
I think this is so for several reasons. One are external circumstances. Things such as the fact that my jobs have given me great flexibility in terms of the ability to travel, have a random work schedule, and travel to interesting and new places FOR work. I also have wonderful friends and random connections, have lived in great cities, and just happen to be in the right place at the right time a lot.
Another is my slightly manic, adventurous, conniving, and self-destructive nature. The things that I think of (and follow through with), the mode in which I operate (I think I turn it up to 11 quite often), and my general maxim of "always look on the bright side" help greatly.
I think as a human being, I am 100 percent filling that role. We're all creatures of pleasure, and all I try to do is seek pleasure, do things that make me feel good, and try to let that pleasure seep into those I find that pleasure with. Wow, rereading that sentence, I feel like I should write a column for Penthouse about pleasure. I'll leave that out of this blog.
Anyways, I think I should expand more on these tenets at some point. But for now, back to the non-boring life I lead.
My non-boring life leads me to my current situation. I sit at JFK airport, awaiting a flight to Washington D.C., which will then connect me to Raleigh N.C. My flexible job allows me to take a Thursday afternoon flight and work remotely on a Friday. I'm heading to Raleigh because I have awesome friends I love who pull me there. So I'm flying to N.C. for a few days to have some pleasure.
Now, it's around 4 p.m., and my flight should leave in 30 minutes. I was SUPPOSED to leave at 1:30 on a direct flight, but that one was canceled due to plane maintenance.
I originally had a 7:30 flight booked to Raleigh, but paid some cash to fly earlier to avoid potential evening traffic delays in the sky. A lot of help that did. I'll end up (hopefully) arriving in Raleigh only about an hour before my original flight was set to arrive.
So I'm on a mini adventure now, sweating the connection times a bit, and generally just existing in limbo right now. I kinda like feeling like that at times. Airports give me a lot of comfort, because I am absolutely in control of NOTHING, and just have to be forced to exist. Sure, that's frustrating at times (like when planes don't work), but in general, I have no obligation or responsibility to do anything but find things to amuse (there goes a pleasure reference again) myself. Selfish me.
People should travel more. Not necessarily for the destination, but the travel process. It's invigorating! You're leaving town! Pack your bags! Who cares where, but in a few hours, you're going to be somewhere you weren't earlier in the day. New things await that your normal circumstances and routine might not allow you to experience.
Sitting in the airport today has been anything but dull, keeping my attention throughout my various frustrations and travel failures. The following things have occurred today:
1) Two parents teaching their kid to read by having him read a tribute magazine for Michael Jackson. It was strange.
2) Got to witness a Delta representative get on the phone with a 15 year old girl's dad to explain the cancellation situation to him, and watch the horror and fear creep up on his face during the call. Even though there is absolutely nothing that could have happened to the Delta guy, it's nice to see that fearing a girl's father is still mostly universal.
3) Got a whistle blown at me twice while almost getting run over by a guy driving the handicap/elder cart.
4) Was part of a photo shoot for a Delta ad, which was during our delay! The guy asked if people would mind not lying on the ground for the shoot, to which a collective guffaw was thrown.
5) Saw a kid with a "Jesus Rocks" shirt which was in a heavy metal font. Capitalism!
All in all, there's nothing absolutely crazy about my day, no story that is eating me alive because I need to keep sharing it over and over. No, just a slightly unusual day, and not being the norm is enough for me. It means that I cannot just say today was another day. I like that.
Who knows what awaits in D.C.!
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Dear London, you were good to me ...
But it's time to move on.
Time for a cliche-filled opus. I think I use lots of cliche life statements in my rants, but this one will probably be especially full of 'em.
So I write this sitting on a plane, on my way back to NYC after my 5 month stay in London. I have wasted the past 20 minutes staring at my blank screen, unable to think of anything to write about. I couldn't get a single decent thought to pop up. Nothing. My cracked out head is usually full of dumb shit, so I was a little disturbed.
I felt as if I was in a weird daze, like fuzzy hungover type daze where you just kinda exist while eating cereal straight out of the box and watching cartoons. But I'm not hungover. I am rambling.
The overwhelming swing of emotions from leaving London ("home" for 5 months) was definitely settling in. I had a disaster of a morning to get ready (dancing with Polish girls until 4 a.m., never good for getting up early), and spent the first 3 hours of flight watching movies, so I didn't even realize what was happening until now.
Am I ready to get back to NYC and the grand US of A? Surely. But what is more evident now is how much I really did love London, and more importantly, the amazing people who I met and drank/laughed/danced/rocked with.
You don't realize what you have until it's gone.
It wasn't until my last 3 days that I noticed the end was near. "Goodbye" dinners, drinks, lunches, hugs, all that shit. Whoa, I'm really leaving now. Whereas I had a great portion of time before thinking about what I missed about New York and home, more recently I started appreciating and admitting to myself how attached I had become to what life had become for me there. This culminated in my super reflective state.
It's never too late to start.
I think at some point I subconsciously decided to quit worrying about when I'd go home, and start just living London and the people there. I am so thankful that I made that mental switch. I wouldn't be able to sit here and reflect on what these past months have meant to me without having done that.
It's better to feel pain and loss than to feel nothing at all.
I feel amazingly privileged and enriched to have now gone through 2 very distinct and equally challenging (for some similar, some different reasons) large scale moves. North Carolina to NYC, NYC to London. In both cases, I had to say goodbyes to people whom I cared deeply for, but knew that I would get to see them again, which is obviously better than never. But in a fucked way, it makes it worse. I don't want this to come out wrong, but in certain situations, you wish people/things would just disappear entirely off of the face of the earth, and you couldn't worry/think/obsess over those things since they didn't even exist. Now rereading that, it's a ridiculous statement. I love my folk. What's the point of living like that? Bring on the hard feelings, it only makes us stronger.
'Til we meet again.
The interesting bit for me, is that my world is in such a different state than it was in January. This is mostly do to people things (marriage, baby, relocations), so in a sense, I feel like I have missed out on a lot and maybe the train left me at the station, but this is the sort of stuff that makes you face what you don't want to, and own up to your feelings and what you need to do with them. There is nothing I can do to change what was happened and what is, so I just have to smile and let it be.
I don't like the Beatles that much. I just quoted a song.
The whole situation and experience, it literally was incredible and such a fortuitous happening. I get to experience living abroad in one of the greatest cities in the world, get to work on a high profile project, and meet amazing people who I otherwise wouldn't have met, and now have those everlasting friendships. And I feel that I have grown exponentially as a person, and have a few extra rounds of ammunition now in the ongoing war of life. Extremely grateful.
We start living when we're ready to die.
Just living. Living is so damn good. Not existing. That's boring. Not getting by. That's annoying. Sure, circumstances limit what the definition of "living" really is, but I am more aware of the mental state of realizing that time is precious, and that you can't get anywhere by taking steps backwards. I find I am always at my happiest and more importantly, of greater value to my friends, family, and fellow humans when I can limit the extra noise and stay focused on living to the best of my abilities. And hopefully dragging others with me along the way.
So I segue from being sad about London to how we all need to be more aware of being alive and taking the utmost advantage of that, no matter what the circumstances happen to be. Surrounding and people change, but you're still you (for the most part) so take the good, absorb enough of the bad that you don't forget it and make good use of it, and move on with living.
Time for a cliche-filled opus. I think I use lots of cliche life statements in my rants, but this one will probably be especially full of 'em.
So I write this sitting on a plane, on my way back to NYC after my 5 month stay in London. I have wasted the past 20 minutes staring at my blank screen, unable to think of anything to write about. I couldn't get a single decent thought to pop up. Nothing. My cracked out head is usually full of dumb shit, so I was a little disturbed.
I felt as if I was in a weird daze, like fuzzy hungover type daze where you just kinda exist while eating cereal straight out of the box and watching cartoons. But I'm not hungover. I am rambling.
The overwhelming swing of emotions from leaving London ("home" for 5 months) was definitely settling in. I had a disaster of a morning to get ready (dancing with Polish girls until 4 a.m., never good for getting up early), and spent the first 3 hours of flight watching movies, so I didn't even realize what was happening until now.
Am I ready to get back to NYC and the grand US of A? Surely. But what is more evident now is how much I really did love London, and more importantly, the amazing people who I met and drank/laughed/danced/rocked with.
You don't realize what you have until it's gone.
It wasn't until my last 3 days that I noticed the end was near. "Goodbye" dinners, drinks, lunches, hugs, all that shit. Whoa, I'm really leaving now. Whereas I had a great portion of time before thinking about what I missed about New York and home, more recently I started appreciating and admitting to myself how attached I had become to what life had become for me there. This culminated in my super reflective state.
It's never too late to start.
I think at some point I subconsciously decided to quit worrying about when I'd go home, and start just living London and the people there. I am so thankful that I made that mental switch. I wouldn't be able to sit here and reflect on what these past months have meant to me without having done that.
It's better to feel pain and loss than to feel nothing at all.
I feel amazingly privileged and enriched to have now gone through 2 very distinct and equally challenging (for some similar, some different reasons) large scale moves. North Carolina to NYC, NYC to London. In both cases, I had to say goodbyes to people whom I cared deeply for, but knew that I would get to see them again, which is obviously better than never. But in a fucked way, it makes it worse. I don't want this to come out wrong, but in certain situations, you wish people/things would just disappear entirely off of the face of the earth, and you couldn't worry/think/obsess over those things since they didn't even exist. Now rereading that, it's a ridiculous statement. I love my folk. What's the point of living like that? Bring on the hard feelings, it only makes us stronger.
'Til we meet again.
The interesting bit for me, is that my world is in such a different state than it was in January. This is mostly do to people things (marriage, baby, relocations), so in a sense, I feel like I have missed out on a lot and maybe the train left me at the station, but this is the sort of stuff that makes you face what you don't want to, and own up to your feelings and what you need to do with them. There is nothing I can do to change what was happened and what is, so I just have to smile and let it be.
I don't like the Beatles that much. I just quoted a song.
The whole situation and experience, it literally was incredible and such a fortuitous happening. I get to experience living abroad in one of the greatest cities in the world, get to work on a high profile project, and meet amazing people who I otherwise wouldn't have met, and now have those everlasting friendships. And I feel that I have grown exponentially as a person, and have a few extra rounds of ammunition now in the ongoing war of life. Extremely grateful.
We start living when we're ready to die.
Just living. Living is so damn good. Not existing. That's boring. Not getting by. That's annoying. Sure, circumstances limit what the definition of "living" really is, but I am more aware of the mental state of realizing that time is precious, and that you can't get anywhere by taking steps backwards. I find I am always at my happiest and more importantly, of greater value to my friends, family, and fellow humans when I can limit the extra noise and stay focused on living to the best of my abilities. And hopefully dragging others with me along the way.
So I segue from being sad about London to how we all need to be more aware of being alive and taking the utmost advantage of that, no matter what the circumstances happen to be. Surrounding and people change, but you're still you (for the most part) so take the good, absorb enough of the bad that you don't forget it and make good use of it, and move on with living.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Where I reflect on my long lost career as a model
Stop me if you've heard this story before. Someone comes up to you, says that they're a talent scout, and wants you to come down to the studio for some shots where they are bound to ask you for money so they can get you some work, or for modeling classes, something like that. Well, I've had it happen 3 times to me, all in the most random of circumstances, and all when I looked completely different (I am a shapeshifter).
Take 1: Surf's Up Dude
The first time was way back in 2002, when I was an intern at IBM. My coworker (and friend) and I were fond of taking long stupid lunches where we'd go spending the money we were supposed to be earning. Naturally, we ended up at the mall a lot.
In those days, my wardrobe consisted of 80 percent Pac Sun, 15 percent Fruit of the Loom (socks, underwears, undershirts), and 5 percent thrift store. For some reason, I was absolutely addicted to that stuff. I think it was a combination of the functional yet stylish-enough shorts (cargo shorts which didn't scream douchebag), flip-flops, and polo shirts that didn't look like polo shirts (no church, no business casual). So was my friend's. So we were a couple of 20 year-old skater kids wandering around who couldn't skate very well. Not relevant.
So on one of these lunches, we're wandering around most likely debating whether or not to buy the 8 foot tall mummy from Spencer's gifts, when I notice a lady staring at us from across the way. I pay her no attention. Until I notice a bit later that she has been following us.
She notices that I notice, but doesn't seem to care. She follows along. I mention to friend. We keep walking. Finally, I think she catches on that I'm a bit creeped out, so she catches up with us and stops us.
From memory, the conversation started like this:
Lady: "Hi guys! Sorry for following you, but I just LOVE your look and your style!"
Me: "Thanks"
Lady: "I mean, it's not just the clothes, it's how you guys carry yourselves, you look like you're having so much fun!"
Us: "Yes, we do have fun"
Lady: "I think you two would be GREAT for this new campaign we have going ..."
And the rest is about scheduling an appointment to get some photos taken (which we don't go to) and more shameless complimenting of us.
To be honest, it was kinda flattering, albeit quite odd. Thinking that this lady is stalking shopping malls for essentially kids.
Take 2: Dirty Rocker
The second time was by far the oddest and most terribly awkward. It happened on an airplane, on my way to Raleigh from NYC.
Fast forward about 5 years, add some more tattoos and some shaggy hair, and you have me (at that point).
I always take those small commuter jets, the ones that have a single seat on the left, and two to the right. I also always try to sit in the 2nd seat on the left, which happens to be right next to the flight attendant hangout.
So we depart, and immediately, the flight attendant (I think his name was Jim) starts taking a liking to me and is chatting me up. Nice fellow is all I think. Comments
Drinks come, and he's wayyyy too nice about serving me. He doesn't charge me for my beer. I'm suspicious, but that suspicion is overridden by the free booze. But, he asks me if he could show me something when he was done with drink service. Hmmm.
He motions me to get up and stand with him in that little flight attendant cubbyhole. He pulls out this large book of photos of dudes and chicks. Professional quality. I am very confused as he shows me these photos, asking me "What do you think?" He finally lets the cat out of the bag, and mentions to me that he runs his own modeling agency when he's grounded in NYC. There you go.
He proceeds to tell me how he loves my look. He referred to me as a "dirty", with the hair and tattoos. Said he could get me some good work, because dirty was very in right now, and there was a lack of "talent" to provide all the demand for dirty. Apparently tattooists were overworked.
Anyways, he is out of business cards, so he no lie, tears a sheet of paper off of the flight report and writes down 3 phone numbers, 2 addresses, 2 emails, and probably a smiley face. Tells me I've gotta come down and get started!
I never called him. Thought about it. I think I still have that note buried somewhere.
Take 3: Emaciated Pale Stick Model
Move forward another year and a half or so. In a time of my life I'm not so proud of, I dropped down to about 140 pounds when I was running 10+ miles every morning. Stupid stupid stupid, but whatever. Maybe content for another post.
So me, very skinny, very pale, is shopping one afternoon in Whole Foods, looking very New York with my skinny jeans, sneakers, and long black peacoat. Buying something organic. Probably ended up buying beef jerky that day. I always do.
I'm in the produce, looking at veggies. A guy next to me is also shopping for veggies. And looking at me a lot. Not an uncommon occurrence to have guys looking at you in the Chelsea neighborhood. But he's really looking. And also following me down the aisle as I move from cabbage to cauliflower.
Finally I stare back, obviously annoyed with the situation. He asks me if I'm a model or not. I tell him no. He gives me his card, and says he thinks I could really get some good work. Tells me to set up a shoot a.s.a.p.
I actually followed up on this one. This guy actually persistently bugged me for a week until one day during my lunch break I figured "What the Hell, nothing to lose", and I headed to his studio in Midtown. He took some pictures of me, and told me he'd be in touch.
The funniest part of it all is that he's called me several times since then for work, but they were all after I had given up the running and moved back into lifting weights, so obviously I had put some weight on. He always asked if I looked the same, and my response was always "well yeah I look the same, except now I have like 40 more pounds of weight on" and of course, I couldn't do the part.
The End
What's the point of all this? I guess there are several. Being noticed, even if it's for someone else's gain, is good. Remembering that there are other people who notice you is just a reminder that you're human.
Take 1: Surf's Up Dude
The first time was way back in 2002, when I was an intern at IBM. My coworker (and friend) and I were fond of taking long stupid lunches where we'd go spending the money we were supposed to be earning. Naturally, we ended up at the mall a lot.
In those days, my wardrobe consisted of 80 percent Pac Sun, 15 percent Fruit of the Loom (socks, underwears, undershirts), and 5 percent thrift store. For some reason, I was absolutely addicted to that stuff. I think it was a combination of the functional yet stylish-enough shorts (cargo shorts which didn't scream douchebag), flip-flops, and polo shirts that didn't look like polo shirts (no church, no business casual). So was my friend's. So we were a couple of 20 year-old skater kids wandering around who couldn't skate very well. Not relevant.
So on one of these lunches, we're wandering around most likely debating whether or not to buy the 8 foot tall mummy from Spencer's gifts, when I notice a lady staring at us from across the way. I pay her no attention. Until I notice a bit later that she has been following us.
She notices that I notice, but doesn't seem to care. She follows along. I mention to friend. We keep walking. Finally, I think she catches on that I'm a bit creeped out, so she catches up with us and stops us.
From memory, the conversation started like this:
Lady: "Hi guys! Sorry for following you, but I just LOVE your look and your style!"
Me: "Thanks"
Lady: "I mean, it's not just the clothes, it's how you guys carry yourselves, you look like you're having so much fun!"
Us: "Yes, we do have fun"
Lady: "I think you two would be GREAT for this new campaign we have going ..."
And the rest is about scheduling an appointment to get some photos taken (which we don't go to) and more shameless complimenting of us.
To be honest, it was kinda flattering, albeit quite odd. Thinking that this lady is stalking shopping malls for essentially kids.
Take 2: Dirty Rocker
The second time was by far the oddest and most terribly awkward. It happened on an airplane, on my way to Raleigh from NYC.
Fast forward about 5 years, add some more tattoos and some shaggy hair, and you have me (at that point).
I always take those small commuter jets, the ones that have a single seat on the left, and two to the right. I also always try to sit in the 2nd seat on the left, which happens to be right next to the flight attendant hangout.
So we depart, and immediately, the flight attendant (I think his name was Jim) starts taking a liking to me and is chatting me up. Nice fellow is all I think. Comments
Drinks come, and he's wayyyy too nice about serving me. He doesn't charge me for my beer. I'm suspicious, but that suspicion is overridden by the free booze. But, he asks me if he could show me something when he was done with drink service. Hmmm.
He motions me to get up and stand with him in that little flight attendant cubbyhole. He pulls out this large book of photos of dudes and chicks. Professional quality. I am very confused as he shows me these photos, asking me "What do you think?" He finally lets the cat out of the bag, and mentions to me that he runs his own modeling agency when he's grounded in NYC. There you go.
He proceeds to tell me how he loves my look. He referred to me as a "dirty", with the hair and tattoos. Said he could get me some good work, because dirty was very in right now, and there was a lack of "talent" to provide all the demand for dirty. Apparently tattooists were overworked.
Anyways, he is out of business cards, so he no lie, tears a sheet of paper off of the flight report and writes down 3 phone numbers, 2 addresses, 2 emails, and probably a smiley face. Tells me I've gotta come down and get started!
I never called him. Thought about it. I think I still have that note buried somewhere.
Take 3: Emaciated Pale Stick Model
Move forward another year and a half or so. In a time of my life I'm not so proud of, I dropped down to about 140 pounds when I was running 10+ miles every morning. Stupid stupid stupid, but whatever. Maybe content for another post.
So me, very skinny, very pale, is shopping one afternoon in Whole Foods, looking very New York with my skinny jeans, sneakers, and long black peacoat. Buying something organic. Probably ended up buying beef jerky that day. I always do.
I'm in the produce, looking at veggies. A guy next to me is also shopping for veggies. And looking at me a lot. Not an uncommon occurrence to have guys looking at you in the Chelsea neighborhood. But he's really looking. And also following me down the aisle as I move from cabbage to cauliflower.
Finally I stare back, obviously annoyed with the situation. He asks me if I'm a model or not. I tell him no. He gives me his card, and says he thinks I could really get some good work. Tells me to set up a shoot a.s.a.p.
I actually followed up on this one. This guy actually persistently bugged me for a week until one day during my lunch break I figured "What the Hell, nothing to lose", and I headed to his studio in Midtown. He took some pictures of me, and told me he'd be in touch.
The funniest part of it all is that he's called me several times since then for work, but they were all after I had given up the running and moved back into lifting weights, so obviously I had put some weight on. He always asked if I looked the same, and my response was always "well yeah I look the same, except now I have like 40 more pounds of weight on" and of course, I couldn't do the part.
The End
What's the point of all this? I guess there are several. Being noticed, even if it's for someone else's gain, is good. Remembering that there are other people who notice you is just a reminder that you're human.
Another is how everything is in the eye of the beholder. And how you can paint a picture with appearance that may or may not have anything to do with who you are, but might in fact be a very poignant statement. I was lazy and chill 7 years ago, hence a surferish look. When I was skinny, I didn't have a lot in life. You can reflect what's going on, while not even intending to. It's just interesting stuff is all.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Spaced Out
For better or worse, I have become much more aware of actions I perform that are the absolute wrong thing to do. Not something such as grabbing a coworker's ass, I mean things like trying to insert your cell phone into the lock of your front door, and staring for 3 or 4 seconds before you realize what you are doing.
I can remember doing things like this all throughout life, but they just seem to be happening more often lately. Or maybe it IS simply the fact that I'm a more aware human being than I used to be. Or it could be simply getting old. Or it could be all the booze. Or more than likely, stress and lack of sleep. However, these things happen, and they affect me in a couple of ways:
1) Concern: This is me thinking that my brain just isn't what it used to be, has degraded, or is somehow damage. It's the same feeling I get when I try to remember how good I used to be at physics, or how I used to know all the elements on the periodic table, or my past mastery of grammar and vocabulary. The only difference here is that I put a key in a door at least 3 times a day, so I have no "I just haven't used that in a while" excuse.
2) Laughter: It's all funny when you realize what you're trying to do. Whether it's putting a cell phone in a lock, or putting your car keys in the fridge, it's all silly.
3) Befuddlement: How the hell our brains can do things so utterly wrong is beyond me.
So let me think of a few of these sorts of things I have done that fall into the "I can't believe I did that" category. These have all happened to me.
* Pulled my cell phone out of my man-purse and thought that's what I needed to unlock my door with
* Couldn't find my car keys, because the night before (dead sober) I had put them in the fridge
* When I was about 10, I got up in the middle of the night, wide awake, walked downstairs and pulled out the kitchen trash can, intending to use the bathroom. Luckily I caught myself.
* Tried to turn on the TV with my cell phone
* Looked in amazement at the person working at the gym who wouldn't accept my wallet instead of my gym fob
* Wondered my cat wouldn't eat her food, and I realized her bowl was filled with Cap'n Crunch's Peanut Butter Crunch (GOD THAT SHIT IS TASTY THOUGH)
* When asked to bring extra balls to soccer practice in high school, I showed up with a football
* Tried to pay for a sandwich with a PostIt note.
This is just a sample. I don't want to dig too deep anyways.
I guess I'm thankful for these sorts of things. They keep me humble, and realize that at heart, I am a complete moron just stumbling through the world, one cell-phone shaped keyhole at a time.
I can remember doing things like this all throughout life, but they just seem to be happening more often lately. Or maybe it IS simply the fact that I'm a more aware human being than I used to be. Or it could be simply getting old. Or it could be all the booze. Or more than likely, stress and lack of sleep. However, these things happen, and they affect me in a couple of ways:
1) Concern: This is me thinking that my brain just isn't what it used to be, has degraded, or is somehow damage. It's the same feeling I get when I try to remember how good I used to be at physics, or how I used to know all the elements on the periodic table, or my past mastery of grammar and vocabulary. The only difference here is that I put a key in a door at least 3 times a day, so I have no "I just haven't used that in a while" excuse.
2) Laughter: It's all funny when you realize what you're trying to do. Whether it's putting a cell phone in a lock, or putting your car keys in the fridge, it's all silly.
3) Befuddlement: How the hell our brains can do things so utterly wrong is beyond me.
So let me think of a few of these sorts of things I have done that fall into the "I can't believe I did that" category. These have all happened to me.
* Pulled my cell phone out of my man-purse and thought that's what I needed to unlock my door with
* Couldn't find my car keys, because the night before (dead sober) I had put them in the fridge
* When I was about 10, I got up in the middle of the night, wide awake, walked downstairs and pulled out the kitchen trash can, intending to use the bathroom. Luckily I caught myself.
* Tried to turn on the TV with my cell phone
* Looked in amazement at the person working at the gym who wouldn't accept my wallet instead of my gym fob
* Wondered my cat wouldn't eat her food, and I realized her bowl was filled with Cap'n Crunch's Peanut Butter Crunch (GOD THAT SHIT IS TASTY THOUGH)
* When asked to bring extra balls to soccer practice in high school, I showed up with a football
* Tried to pay for a sandwich with a PostIt note.
This is just a sample. I don't want to dig too deep anyways.
I guess I'm thankful for these sorts of things. They keep me humble, and realize that at heart, I am a complete moron just stumbling through the world, one cell-phone shaped keyhole at a time.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Stars, Stripes, and High Fructose Corn Syrup
Why does the United States' FDA lie to me about nutritional content? I mean seriously. When I first moved to London, I screaming a huge "THANK YOU" when I imbibed by first of several hundred cans of Diet soda. There ARE calories in these things. Sure, it's only 1 to 10 depending on the beverage (Fanta Zero is a whopping ELEVEN calories, since they claim on the can to include "real" fruit in it), but it's something. Something non-zero.
I probably should do some research before speculating, but I am going to go out on a limb here and assume that the laws are just different in the States, and that you could report on caloric content being zero even if it wasn't quite zero, depending on the food type. Just my thoughts.
Even a cucumber has gotta have something in it ...
But this leads me to other interesting food things. Heinz Ketchup has high fructose corn syrup in the states. How about in London? NOPE. Just good 'ole corn syrup. Still not great for the body, but it's not the super-processed shit. You know what else? IT COMES FROM THE SAME FACTORY IN PENNSYLVANIA. So there's like a US line, and a Rest of the World line. They get the natural stuff. We get the weird chemicals.
I probably should do some research before speculating, but I am going to go out on a limb here and assume that the laws are just different in the States, and that you could report on caloric content being zero even if it wasn't quite zero, depending on the food type. Just my thoughts.
Even a cucumber has gotta have something in it ...
But this leads me to other interesting food things. Heinz Ketchup has high fructose corn syrup in the states. How about in London? NOPE. Just good 'ole corn syrup. Still not great for the body, but it's not the super-processed shit. You know what else? IT COMES FROM THE SAME FACTORY IN PENNSYLVANIA. So there's like a US line, and a Rest of the World line. They get the natural stuff. We get the weird chemicals.
Change
We all have those times where we simply know we need a change. Maybe a career change. Maybe a geographic change. Maybe a change in diet. Maybe a change in attitude. Maybe a change in the company we keep. Maybe a change in our lifestyle. Maybe a change in our wardrobe. Maybe a change in our social behaviors. Change period.
For some things, it's quite obvious what the change is. You're getting a little rounder, you need a change in diet. Your shoes have worn through to the soles and your wallet keeps falling out of holes in your jeans pocket, you need new clothes. These are easy. There is essentially no debating what the remedy is, or even debating the fact that change is required. Done. No arguments. If you don't go through with the change, you just look like an ignorant or stubborn jackass. These aren't really changes. You are just fixing what is broken.
True change is different. It's a different feeling, for me anyways. You just know when you need it. There's a lingering feeling, that maybe something isn't quite right. I know that this feeling exists because of the exact opposite, when every single thing in life (as it seems anyways) is just going perfectly, you have not a care in the world, and walk around in a general state of euphoria, glad to be alive, no matter what you are doing.
People sometimes accuse me of being overly optimistic in life, but these moments of life's perfection can and do exist. It doesn't mean the person is perfect, it doesn't mean that life is truly perfect, but that you are entirely satisfied with the way things are at some certain time, you're not worrying about having to be/do/say/become something else. You just exist, and that's more than enough for you. This is my heaven essentially, when I'm lucky enough to get into one of those phases.
I mention this perfection feeling because it's the crux of the issue here. You can't have good without evil, yin without yang, all that shit. It's certainly a necessary balance. If you didn't go through those phases, life would be too easy, and no one would improve or make a difference. It'd get old pretty quick. But when this aura of perceived perfection suddenly dissipates, you get a bit stir crazy. On to change.
Actually, I don't want to call it change, because that to me sounds like something is "wrong" in the first place. So maybe I'm not talking about change really. It's more of an adjustment you need. Not like when baseball players adjust themselves before they bat. It has a little more import.
Sadly, this "adjustment" usually has no obvious fix. For me, there is rarely a single issue that I can pinpoint as needing attention. Sure I go through bad spells with work, but they happen in cycles, and I know things will calm down, so I never REALLY want to change jobs. I say I do, I feel like maybe I should, but I know I won't.
So there are now 3 levels of change:
1. The obvious. You change.
2. The obvious yet cyclical. Things will just get better.
3. The not quite right. Something needs to give. But what?
This 3rd one is what has been bothering me a bit lately. Right here right now (awful song), I can say I'm in one of those happy happy joy joy moods, so I am not biased about what might currently be bothering me.
So how does one go about figuring out what's really bothering them, what's making them itch, what needs tweaking?
I say trying to figure these sorts of things out can drive one insane, and lead to nothing other than a worse-off feeling than before. So I don't try to figure these things out. I just do a little something, and I feel like a new person, so I can have a clean slate for a while.
For example, my current status of happy happy joy joy can be attributed to the simple act of removing a button (brooch?) from my man-purse. Sounds stupid right? Think again!
Part of the problem of thinking you need adjustment is the monotony of life. Certain parts of life. I bought this pin the 2nd day I lived in New York, and it has ridden with me ever since. That pin has seen a ton of great/OK/bad/shitty/decent/comme ci comme ca moments, but I suddenly had the urge to get rid of it. So I did. And you know what? It was quite invigorating!
This has probably left you very disappointed, especially if you were waiting for me to espouse on the meaning of life, and come up with some Tony Robbins shit on how to make your life better. My advice for today is change something, just a little something, and keep yourself focused on keeping life fresh, and hopefully the things that REALLY matter will resolve themselves without you having to wreck your brain and life while obsessing about them.
This could be the largest pile of dung I've ever written. I'm totally fine with that though. It was an enlightening poo for me.
For some things, it's quite obvious what the change is. You're getting a little rounder, you need a change in diet. Your shoes have worn through to the soles and your wallet keeps falling out of holes in your jeans pocket, you need new clothes. These are easy. There is essentially no debating what the remedy is, or even debating the fact that change is required. Done. No arguments. If you don't go through with the change, you just look like an ignorant or stubborn jackass. These aren't really changes. You are just fixing what is broken.
True change is different. It's a different feeling, for me anyways. You just know when you need it. There's a lingering feeling, that maybe something isn't quite right. I know that this feeling exists because of the exact opposite, when every single thing in life (as it seems anyways) is just going perfectly, you have not a care in the world, and walk around in a general state of euphoria, glad to be alive, no matter what you are doing.
People sometimes accuse me of being overly optimistic in life, but these moments of life's perfection can and do exist. It doesn't mean the person is perfect, it doesn't mean that life is truly perfect, but that you are entirely satisfied with the way things are at some certain time, you're not worrying about having to be/do/say/become something else. You just exist, and that's more than enough for you. This is my heaven essentially, when I'm lucky enough to get into one of those phases.
I mention this perfection feeling because it's the crux of the issue here. You can't have good without evil, yin without yang, all that shit. It's certainly a necessary balance. If you didn't go through those phases, life would be too easy, and no one would improve or make a difference. It'd get old pretty quick. But when this aura of perceived perfection suddenly dissipates, you get a bit stir crazy. On to change.
Actually, I don't want to call it change, because that to me sounds like something is "wrong" in the first place. So maybe I'm not talking about change really. It's more of an adjustment you need. Not like when baseball players adjust themselves before they bat. It has a little more import.
Sadly, this "adjustment" usually has no obvious fix. For me, there is rarely a single issue that I can pinpoint as needing attention. Sure I go through bad spells with work, but they happen in cycles, and I know things will calm down, so I never REALLY want to change jobs. I say I do, I feel like maybe I should, but I know I won't.
So there are now 3 levels of change:
1. The obvious. You change.
2. The obvious yet cyclical. Things will just get better.
3. The not quite right. Something needs to give. But what?
This 3rd one is what has been bothering me a bit lately. Right here right now (awful song), I can say I'm in one of those happy happy joy joy moods, so I am not biased about what might currently be bothering me.
So how does one go about figuring out what's really bothering them, what's making them itch, what needs tweaking?
I say trying to figure these sorts of things out can drive one insane, and lead to nothing other than a worse-off feeling than before. So I don't try to figure these things out. I just do a little something, and I feel like a new person, so I can have a clean slate for a while.
For example, my current status of happy happy joy joy can be attributed to the simple act of removing a button (brooch?) from my man-purse. Sounds stupid right? Think again!
Part of the problem of thinking you need adjustment is the monotony of life. Certain parts of life. I bought this pin the 2nd day I lived in New York, and it has ridden with me ever since. That pin has seen a ton of great/OK/bad/shitty/decent/comme ci comme ca moments, but I suddenly had the urge to get rid of it. So I did. And you know what? It was quite invigorating!
This has probably left you very disappointed, especially if you were waiting for me to espouse on the meaning of life, and come up with some Tony Robbins shit on how to make your life better. My advice for today is change something, just a little something, and keep yourself focused on keeping life fresh, and hopefully the things that REALLY matter will resolve themselves without you having to wreck your brain and life while obsessing about them.
This could be the largest pile of dung I've ever written. I'm totally fine with that though. It was an enlightening poo for me.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Save the water or save the lightbulbs
This one gets me a lot. When you have a little over half a load of laundry or so, and you pass by it sitting on the floor/in the basket/on the washer and you've got the time, and you think, "what the hell, maybe I'll wash that shit." But then you might think, "Well, I should just wait until I have a bit more of a full load before washing." Which leads to the question: why don't you?
Is it because you want to conserve water by waiting until you have a proper amount of laundry to wash?
Is it because you'll be using unnecessary energy to run the washer when it's barely half-full?
Or is it because of the side effects of the above two things, and you're just trying to save money.
I definitely turn off light switches and unplug things etc. when I can to conserve energy, as I don't think it ends up having much effect on NYC power bills anyways. Same with running water. However, laundry is probably more a factor of me just being lazy. And unless forced with a "can I stretch these underwear another day?" decision, I can usually let it ride.
I actually don't own a washer/dryer anymore (actually I do temporarily, but not own, just have one in my house). Never mind, I'll get to that later.
This is why I love conservation; you can really just be a cheap-ass at heart while acting like you care to save the environment. I mean, there are certain levels of extremes to conversation and living like a caveman, and also situations when "conserving" truly means trimming the fat (you don't REALLY need HBO, although their shows rock).
This all goes kinda hand-in-hand with the economic situation today. Everyone is cutting things back, being more careful about not wasting resources, driving smaller more fuel efficient cars etc., which are all great things, but people are motivated more by monetary reasons than a sudden urge to be nicer to the planet. Sure, the more you do these things, you realize the good in them and that you can make a difference (not trying to sound like Bono here). I'm also concerned that once the economy turns back up and gets back higher than it was (it will), people will go apeshit and you know, just waste! No more politicking and philosophy.
I really only wanted to write about when is the right time to do the laundry, in terms of amount. I can't say there's ever been a piece of clothing that I desperately wanted to wear, and just washed that with maybe a few other things so I could wear it. Although I'll wash a solo shirt/shorts from the gym if I'm leaving on a trip for a few days, for obvious reasons.
I also never separate the blacks and whites, unless it's the first time washing a shirt, maybe a few times after jeans. I also don't own anything nice that's white.
Using laundromats definitely changes things up a bit. I always shove as much as I can possibly fit into these things. The best part is if that you have too much for one, just upgrade in size to the next largest washer. Simple. Costs you more though. And takes longer, since it needs more water, which is why I prefer to split it up into two smaller washers running side by side, but only if both has enough clothes to warrant it. Otherwise, I upgrade, and spend the extra quarters.
Finally, there is no greater joy than starting a wash, doing something else productive like paying bills, running to the grocery store, vacuuming, returning to find the wash just finishing, and throwing that junk in the dryer, only forgetting to check it until the clothes have wrinkled. But that's sitting in office chairs is for, to flatten them suckers out.
Is it because you want to conserve water by waiting until you have a proper amount of laundry to wash?
Is it because you'll be using unnecessary energy to run the washer when it's barely half-full?
Or is it because of the side effects of the above two things, and you're just trying to save money.
I definitely turn off light switches and unplug things etc. when I can to conserve energy, as I don't think it ends up having much effect on NYC power bills anyways. Same with running water. However, laundry is probably more a factor of me just being lazy. And unless forced with a "can I stretch these underwear another day?" decision, I can usually let it ride.
I actually don't own a washer/dryer anymore (actually I do temporarily, but not own, just have one in my house). Never mind, I'll get to that later.
This is why I love conservation; you can really just be a cheap-ass at heart while acting like you care to save the environment. I mean, there are certain levels of extremes to conversation and living like a caveman, and also situations when "conserving" truly means trimming the fat (you don't REALLY need HBO, although their shows rock).
This all goes kinda hand-in-hand with the economic situation today. Everyone is cutting things back, being more careful about not wasting resources, driving smaller more fuel efficient cars etc., which are all great things, but people are motivated more by monetary reasons than a sudden urge to be nicer to the planet. Sure, the more you do these things, you realize the good in them and that you can make a difference (not trying to sound like Bono here). I'm also concerned that once the economy turns back up and gets back higher than it was (it will), people will go apeshit and you know, just waste! No more politicking and philosophy.
I really only wanted to write about when is the right time to do the laundry, in terms of amount. I can't say there's ever been a piece of clothing that I desperately wanted to wear, and just washed that with maybe a few other things so I could wear it. Although I'll wash a solo shirt/shorts from the gym if I'm leaving on a trip for a few days, for obvious reasons.
I also never separate the blacks and whites, unless it's the first time washing a shirt, maybe a few times after jeans. I also don't own anything nice that's white.
Using laundromats definitely changes things up a bit. I always shove as much as I can possibly fit into these things. The best part is if that you have too much for one, just upgrade in size to the next largest washer. Simple. Costs you more though. And takes longer, since it needs more water, which is why I prefer to split it up into two smaller washers running side by side, but only if both has enough clothes to warrant it. Otherwise, I upgrade, and spend the extra quarters.
Finally, there is no greater joy than starting a wash, doing something else productive like paying bills, running to the grocery store, vacuuming, returning to find the wash just finishing, and throwing that junk in the dryer, only forgetting to check it until the clothes have wrinkled. But that's sitting in office chairs is for, to flatten them suckers out.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Time Flies By
I can't even remember what I was actually planning on writing about here, but I guess I had a change of direction when I realized that my last post was 16 days ago, and that made me do a double-take.
To say this year has already been flying by would be a great understatement. The first month and a half or so has absolutely skyrocketed by, and I have no clue where the time has gone. This is mostly a good thing.
I'm a firm believer that no matter how busy work is, how much you have to get done before X event or Y deadline, time flying by is better than time crawling by. Time flies by when I'm doing things. These things might suck, they might be work I don't care to do, mundane cleaning tasks, laundry, counting out coins to roll up and cash in at the bank, whatever.
When life gets busy, I definitely feel that "shit I don't have enough time in a day!" feeling, but it's good because it puts in perspective the preciousness of life and just living in general. I'd rather be doing pointless things than sitting around always doing nothing. Downtime is good certainly, but the opposite situation of having no time in a day to enjoy anything is almost is worse in my opinion.
I HATE watching a clock count down. I HATE whenever I look at a clock expecting it to be 30 minutes later than it really is, and realizing it isn't. This is when I truly know I'm not doing something very enjoyable or beneficially at the moment. When I am on the treadmill, and I think I have ran for 15 minutes, but it's actually only 9, I know it's time for me to get off. Heart not in it, I'd obviously much rather be doing something else, so it's not life or death, move on.
Sometimes this luxury isn't afforded to us. When I used to work on the clock for example, no matter how slow time went by, you had to deal with it. And deal with it I did, by making up fun ways to pass the time (you can take a 5 minute walk every time to realphabetize one letter in the CDs), or by just being utterly miserable.
Luckily now my job lets me step away whenever I need to, and get fresh before I get back at it.
Right now, I feel like I haven't accomplished anything over the last 6 weeks, but I KNOW I've lived a lot. That's enough for me.
To say this year has already been flying by would be a great understatement. The first month and a half or so has absolutely skyrocketed by, and I have no clue where the time has gone. This is mostly a good thing.
I'm a firm believer that no matter how busy work is, how much you have to get done before X event or Y deadline, time flying by is better than time crawling by. Time flies by when I'm doing things. These things might suck, they might be work I don't care to do, mundane cleaning tasks, laundry, counting out coins to roll up and cash in at the bank, whatever.
When life gets busy, I definitely feel that "shit I don't have enough time in a day!" feeling, but it's good because it puts in perspective the preciousness of life and just living in general. I'd rather be doing pointless things than sitting around always doing nothing. Downtime is good certainly, but the opposite situation of having no time in a day to enjoy anything is almost is worse in my opinion.
I HATE watching a clock count down. I HATE whenever I look at a clock expecting it to be 30 minutes later than it really is, and realizing it isn't. This is when I truly know I'm not doing something very enjoyable or beneficially at the moment. When I am on the treadmill, and I think I have ran for 15 minutes, but it's actually only 9, I know it's time for me to get off. Heart not in it, I'd obviously much rather be doing something else, so it's not life or death, move on.
Sometimes this luxury isn't afforded to us. When I used to work on the clock for example, no matter how slow time went by, you had to deal with it. And deal with it I did, by making up fun ways to pass the time (you can take a 5 minute walk every time to realphabetize one letter in the CDs), or by just being utterly miserable.
Luckily now my job lets me step away whenever I need to, and get fresh before I get back at it.
Right now, I feel like I haven't accomplished anything over the last 6 weeks, but I KNOW I've lived a lot. That's enough for me.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Why do I get so angry when "talking" to automated call centers?
While screaming at the Sprint robot Sunday afternoon, I came to a couple of conclusions/realizations:
1) I truly hate automated call systems. I don't like to throw strong words around, but I truly hate them.
2) I have yet to experience a truly "convenient" automated system that was more efficient than if I had gotten a live person on the phone in the first place.
3) These things must just randomly drop people and hope they don't call back. Even on land lines, I get dropped every now and then.
4) Most of these systems are stupid. Most people don't hit the same key 10 times in a row, hearing the "sorry, that is not a recognized option", and actually expect it to work. WE DON'T WANT TO BE AT THAT MENU.
5) My blood pressure gets way too high while working with these things.
6) They just don't work. Every time I call Capital One (who likes to turn my card off every so often), I play nice, and enter in my card number, zip code, phone number, and last 4 digits of my social security number, only to ALWAYS have to give it right back to the human on the other side.
You have to appreciate this. I can't be the only one.
One time, I thought I had figured these bastards out. Actually, US Airways' system is the only one that actually works. I was on my way home from work one afternoon, stuck in the summer heat in my P-Breeze (no power anything, horrible air conditioner, total junk car) crawling at a turtle's pace on highway 40 in RTP, trying to figure out why I hadn't yet received my ticket for an international flight I was supposed to be in a few days' time.
Anyways, it was the most frustrating system I had ever encountered. Kept hanging up on me, kept taking me back to main menus. I almost broke my Zero key, pressing it incessantly hoping to be brought to the operator or whatever. I was beginning to lose it after the 7th hangup or so.
I wasn't able to control anger back then as well as I can now, so it wasn't odd for a poor soul traveling down 40 around rush hour to see a guy screaming, beating the steering wheel of his Plymouth Breeze, cursing the gods.
After a while, when nothing else would work, I just started screaming 4 letter words into the phone, probably telling someone I wanted to kill their mother/child/god, whatever, and what do you know, I am IMMEDIATELY connected to someone!
So maybe these things are smart after all? At least smart enough to know that someone is close to going postal, and that trying to explain to police after they find the carnage that the last number I called was their customer service would not be easy ... smart right?
Sadly, I tried to prove my theory on Time Warner cable, Sprint, American Airlines, Chase bank, the New York Public Library, and StubHub, and got nowhere. Still trying, hoping that there is in fact a semi-intelligent automated call system out there. Waiting to be found.
1) I truly hate automated call systems. I don't like to throw strong words around, but I truly hate them.
2) I have yet to experience a truly "convenient" automated system that was more efficient than if I had gotten a live person on the phone in the first place.
3) These things must just randomly drop people and hope they don't call back. Even on land lines, I get dropped every now and then.
4) Most of these systems are stupid. Most people don't hit the same key 10 times in a row, hearing the "sorry, that is not a recognized option", and actually expect it to work. WE DON'T WANT TO BE AT THAT MENU.
5) My blood pressure gets way too high while working with these things.
6) They just don't work. Every time I call Capital One (who likes to turn my card off every so often), I play nice, and enter in my card number, zip code, phone number, and last 4 digits of my social security number, only to ALWAYS have to give it right back to the human on the other side.
You have to appreciate this. I can't be the only one.
One time, I thought I had figured these bastards out. Actually, US Airways' system is the only one that actually works. I was on my way home from work one afternoon, stuck in the summer heat in my P-Breeze (no power anything, horrible air conditioner, total junk car) crawling at a turtle's pace on highway 40 in RTP, trying to figure out why I hadn't yet received my ticket for an international flight I was supposed to be in a few days' time.
Anyways, it was the most frustrating system I had ever encountered. Kept hanging up on me, kept taking me back to main menus. I almost broke my Zero key, pressing it incessantly hoping to be brought to the operator or whatever. I was beginning to lose it after the 7th hangup or so.
I wasn't able to control anger back then as well as I can now, so it wasn't odd for a poor soul traveling down 40 around rush hour to see a guy screaming, beating the steering wheel of his Plymouth Breeze, cursing the gods.
After a while, when nothing else would work, I just started screaming 4 letter words into the phone, probably telling someone I wanted to kill their mother/child/god, whatever, and what do you know, I am IMMEDIATELY connected to someone!
So maybe these things are smart after all? At least smart enough to know that someone is close to going postal, and that trying to explain to police after they find the carnage that the last number I called was their customer service would not be easy ... smart right?
Sadly, I tried to prove my theory on Time Warner cable, Sprint, American Airlines, Chase bank, the New York Public Library, and StubHub, and got nowhere. Still trying, hoping that there is in fact a semi-intelligent automated call system out there. Waiting to be found.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Sometimes you just need to get across the pond
So I really like my job right now. The most I have ever liked it. I have always wavered between periods of utter joy and also utter defeat in regards to how I felt about the situation at work. I've only once come close to considering a move, but that luckily never materialized.
I write this as I sit in the office (in London) on a Saturday afternoon, and normally this would enrage me and have me cursing the world that I'm working on a Saturday. There are about 45 million things that would be much more fun, but that's besides the point.
Part of it has to be the routine. You start associating work with those 10 hours a day or so where you're just a machine making money so that you can enjoy the other 14 hours a day comfortably. Then sometimes it doesn't even become that, it just loses all representation and can become a chore, a mindless task you might feel that is torture. Why am I here? What does it really matter?
Then there are times where work can really excite you. You're working on a cool project/case/report and you feel like you're LUCKY to be doing it, hell you might even do the same thing on your own time. I've had that before, and that's not what this is, but worth mentioning.
I'm in more of a "I realize what I do is worthwhile enough, and that I'm part of a bigger thing that can actually be of value to people". That's not because CEO's just gave some speech and I'm inspired, but when you start to look at the big picture sometimes, it can be uplifting.
Furthermore, by geographically moving, that just makes everything a bit fresher, gives me a chance to operate at a different pace and level than before. My colleagues back in NY are 5 hours behind me, so my mornings become ultra-efficient before ending the day with meetings. And I like the fact that my "day" ends, and sorry, I just have to go.
We'll see how this project works out and if I'm singing the same tune in a few months, but right now, I'm just happy with where things are. I'll have a pint to that.
I write this as I sit in the office (in London) on a Saturday afternoon, and normally this would enrage me and have me cursing the world that I'm working on a Saturday. There are about 45 million things that would be much more fun, but that's besides the point.
Part of it has to be the routine. You start associating work with those 10 hours a day or so where you're just a machine making money so that you can enjoy the other 14 hours a day comfortably. Then sometimes it doesn't even become that, it just loses all representation and can become a chore, a mindless task you might feel that is torture. Why am I here? What does it really matter?
Then there are times where work can really excite you. You're working on a cool project/case/report and you feel like you're LUCKY to be doing it, hell you might even do the same thing on your own time. I've had that before, and that's not what this is, but worth mentioning.
I'm in more of a "I realize what I do is worthwhile enough, and that I'm part of a bigger thing that can actually be of value to people". That's not because CEO's just gave some speech and I'm inspired, but when you start to look at the big picture sometimes, it can be uplifting.
Furthermore, by geographically moving, that just makes everything a bit fresher, gives me a chance to operate at a different pace and level than before. My colleagues back in NY are 5 hours behind me, so my mornings become ultra-efficient before ending the day with meetings. And I like the fact that my "day" ends, and sorry, I just have to go.
We'll see how this project works out and if I'm singing the same tune in a few months, but right now, I'm just happy with where things are. I'll have a pint to that.
Monday, January 19, 2009
New shoes are stupid (or at least that's what I thought)
Me a few weeks ago:
There is no point in buying new shoes. Well, there are some cases where it is warranted, but otherwise new shoes are one of the biggest letdowns known to man. Allow me to explain.
1) New shoes never feel as good as your old shoes.
They just don't.
Sure, they always take time to break in, I'm a patient person so I realize this. But each time I think the shoes should be broken in by whatever time period has passed, I start thinking back on how good old shoes felt. Sometimes, I abandon the new shoes for the old ones just because I can't stop thinking of them. Thus, I have several pairs of brand new shoes that are something like 10 years old. I can't throw those away either, but that's another story entirely.
This might be some deep-seeded issue with comparing old to the new (and letting go of the past) but I ain't reading to deeply in to this. Shoes aren't like cars, they don't get more comfortable. It's a conspiracy by the shoe industry to make them less reliable so we buy more. I'm not falling for their tricks.
2) If it ain't broke, don't fix it
If my feet feel fine, and if I don't feel like spending money, why worry about it? Sure the backs might be crumbling away and the color is 5 shades different from the original, but I'm cool with that.
I've worn a pair of shoes before until literally a hole had been worn into the bottoms. I even let my feet get a little wet before thinking maybe it was time to replace. Wet shoes don't smell great though, so I finally caved.
3) Cleaning shoes is impossible/pointless
Enjoy your nice new shiny shoes while they last ... for no longer than a day usually. Weather hurts, plus any tight spaces like bars where your shoes will most definitely be stepped upon or have various alcohols (the staining type, like red wine and jager) all over them. So all those white shoes that look so cool ... ruination immediately.
Me Now:
To hell with it. Unless it's old family photos or baseball cards or something, I have no desire to hang on to anything that's that old, especially something that my feet have been touching for that long. Furthermore, there's something to be said about having that "worn" look and feel to it which is fine, but looking homeless is another thing (nothing wrong with being homeless if that's your choice).
I put some old gym shoes in the garbage the other day and kind of stared for a moment, saying my goodbyes. Why do we have trouble throwing things in the garbage sometimes? Who knows, but I'm relieved now that every time I can throw something like this away and love the feeling when I buy a new replacement and think "that wasn't so hard. How good do you feel now?"
Again, not all old is bad. But seriously, 10 year old shoes? Who was I kidding.
There is no point in buying new shoes. Well, there are some cases where it is warranted, but otherwise new shoes are one of the biggest letdowns known to man. Allow me to explain.
1) New shoes never feel as good as your old shoes.
They just don't.
Sure, they always take time to break in, I'm a patient person so I realize this. But each time I think the shoes should be broken in by whatever time period has passed, I start thinking back on how good old shoes felt. Sometimes, I abandon the new shoes for the old ones just because I can't stop thinking of them. Thus, I have several pairs of brand new shoes that are something like 10 years old. I can't throw those away either, but that's another story entirely.
This might be some deep-seeded issue with comparing old to the new (and letting go of the past) but I ain't reading to deeply in to this. Shoes aren't like cars, they don't get more comfortable. It's a conspiracy by the shoe industry to make them less reliable so we buy more. I'm not falling for their tricks.
2) If it ain't broke, don't fix it
If my feet feel fine, and if I don't feel like spending money, why worry about it? Sure the backs might be crumbling away and the color is 5 shades different from the original, but I'm cool with that.
I've worn a pair of shoes before until literally a hole had been worn into the bottoms. I even let my feet get a little wet before thinking maybe it was time to replace. Wet shoes don't smell great though, so I finally caved.
3) Cleaning shoes is impossible/pointless
Enjoy your nice new shiny shoes while they last ... for no longer than a day usually. Weather hurts, plus any tight spaces like bars where your shoes will most definitely be stepped upon or have various alcohols (the staining type, like red wine and jager) all over them. So all those white shoes that look so cool ... ruination immediately.
Me Now:
To hell with it. Unless it's old family photos or baseball cards or something, I have no desire to hang on to anything that's that old, especially something that my feet have been touching for that long. Furthermore, there's something to be said about having that "worn" look and feel to it which is fine, but looking homeless is another thing (nothing wrong with being homeless if that's your choice).
I put some old gym shoes in the garbage the other day and kind of stared for a moment, saying my goodbyes. Why do we have trouble throwing things in the garbage sometimes? Who knows, but I'm relieved now that every time I can throw something like this away and love the feeling when I buy a new replacement and think "that wasn't so hard. How good do you feel now?"
Again, not all old is bad. But seriously, 10 year old shoes? Who was I kidding.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
An Ode to My Liver
Oh Dear Liver
You amaze me ever so
With your magic ways
- T-Pain
This is the most amazing organ I have ever known. I have no idea how it functions, and how it functions with such aplomb and gusto to recover me so quickly, only to "thank it" by giving it more alcohol and foreign substance to deal with.
In all honesty, I do love my liver deeply. Every morning that I wake up after a bender and don't feel like killing myself, I have no one or no thing to thank other than Mr. Liver. It's a male too. My liver is anyways.
I was especially aware of my liver's amazing abilities this morning, when I landed in London at 8:30 a.m. local time, which is 3:30 a.m. normal time. And I was knee deep in airplane wine only 3 hours earlier. Not only did my liver give me the strength (probably stretching it, but whatever) to find my way to my place, but I was even able to run 3 miles a mere 5 hours later. Humans aren't supposed to do that sort of thing. I don't claim any sort of superhuman ability, I put all of that square on the shoulders of el liver.
You have to know what I am talking about. This stems from a series of evenings/mornings when I got up way earlier than any normal person should have after a night of debauchery, and felt way way WAY too good for what I had done.
Speaking of shoulders, that 's the first time in my life that I have ever had the mental image of a liver with shoulders/arms. It's a weird you thought. You should try and imagine it yourself.
I definitely feel like my liver is the main reason I appear healthy to outsiders, outsiders being those who don't see how badly I treat my body when I'm not treating it well.
I have to admit I take some snake oil medicine, like milk thystle and also drink detox teas, but that doesn't take away from the fact of how awesome my liver is.
Or what bad shape my liver might be in. The doctor always tells me "your liver looks great!" which is an invitation for half a dozen Jameson shots and other fun stuffs.
Maybe I have just learned moderation in a backwards ass way and actually AM being OK to my liver? I guess not having to consciously think about it is a gift. Or something.
- T-Pain
This is the most amazing organ I have ever known. I have no idea how it functions, and how it functions with such aplomb and gusto to recover me so quickly, only to "thank it" by giving it more alcohol and foreign substance to deal with.
In all honesty, I do love my liver deeply. Every morning that I wake up after a bender and don't feel like killing myself, I have no one or no thing to thank other than Mr. Liver. It's a male too. My liver is anyways.
I was especially aware of my liver's amazing abilities this morning, when I landed in London at 8:30 a.m. local time, which is 3:30 a.m. normal time. And I was knee deep in airplane wine only 3 hours earlier. Not only did my liver give me the strength (probably stretching it, but whatever) to find my way to my place, but I was even able to run 3 miles a mere 5 hours later. Humans aren't supposed to do that sort of thing. I don't claim any sort of superhuman ability, I put all of that square on the shoulders of el liver.
You have to know what I am talking about. This stems from a series of evenings/mornings when I got up way earlier than any normal person should have after a night of debauchery, and felt way way WAY too good for what I had done.
Speaking of shoulders, that 's the first time in my life that I have ever had the mental image of a liver with shoulders/arms. It's a weird you thought. You should try and imagine it yourself.
I definitely feel like my liver is the main reason I appear healthy to outsiders, outsiders being those who don't see how badly I treat my body when I'm not treating it well.
I have to admit I take some snake oil medicine, like milk thystle and also drink detox teas, but that doesn't take away from the fact of how awesome my liver is.
Or what bad shape my liver might be in. The doctor always tells me "your liver looks great!" which is an invitation for half a dozen Jameson shots and other fun stuffs.
Maybe I have just learned moderation in a backwards ass way and actually AM being OK to my liver? I guess not having to consciously think about it is a gift. Or something.
Circus Olay
Circus del Oil of Olay
But now officially the Circus Olay.
Where does one get a trapeze act and a taco to boot?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where does one get a side of beans with dinner? Even if it's actually breakfast?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where does one get fantastic Mexican cowboys battling it out all night with a bunch of bulls?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where do you get to see dozens of Mexican acrobats swinging across the stage to the pulsing jams of Ricky Martin?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where does the staff take a siesta before bringing out your entrees?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where do you get to choose hard or soft when asked where you'd like to sit for the show?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where do you get maracas instead of violins?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where do you get Brown instead of White?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where do you get weird white cheese instead of something that goes by a normal cheese name?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where do you get dragon-fighting hombres?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where do you get a donkey instead of a horse?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
OK. Everyone please listen. There has to have been a time in your life at some point when the following seemed perfect and amazingly perfect for you. Let me introduce you to the concept of the Circus Olay, the one and only Mexican acrobatic lion-taming super circus. Oh yes. It's that good.
Fuck white tigers, fuck dudes driving motocross bikes in bit steel ball cages, and fuck clowns. We got real clowns here.
OK, so let's get serious for a minute. I want you to imagine Cirque de Soleil. Really imagine it. All the meth-heads in makeup flip-flopping around stage. There? You got it. So you have those regular crazies, but NOW you add a little spice to the mix. Or any traditional dish actually. Add an empanada, or quesadilla, or burrito, and now you got the Circus Olay. Let your mind drift for a second as I describe to you a typical act in this Mexiparty:
The show starts as usual, there's a ringmaster who comes out and spews a bunch of bull about the show being great and all that. Once the show actually gets underway, that's where all the damn magic happens.
So you have a couple of ladies throwing batons around in the air. Dancing with those Marilyn Monroe era caps, almost like swim caps. They bounce around for a while in front of a pretty backdrop, until someone bursts through that barrier, and looks a bit like Zorro, snaps their fingers, makes a yodel-type sound, making all hell break loose.
Canons explode. So do fire hydrants. All the while screams of joy and resolve are sounded from all corners. Even where no Mexicans are.
Next you have a bunch of guys who look the the 3 amigos, those of the Steve Martin/Chevy Chase fame. Running around stage doing backflips with guitars in hand.
While that's all going on, you have lots of lovely senoritas floating around the room with roses in mouth, smiling away with a ridiculous shade of red lipstick.
Next, lots of guys with mops fucking come flying across the floor, doing the mopping dance. They are able to hold themselves up on said mops, doing all kinds of spins and acrobatic moves. These moves have names, but I am not familiar with them.
All the while, the guys in the white "get your hotdog" outfits in the stands have ripped those off in favor of bull rider fare, tossing full tacos and margaritas to the crowd. It's a bit messy, but by this point, no one seems to care.
Meanwhile, the guy from the coffee label (actually about a dozen of them) do this weird dance with their donkeys, tossing coffee beans in the air the whole while. It is incredible.
Finally, Rosie Perez comes out and talks everyone's ears into bleeding, ending the show. It's the ultimate in lift up and then let down.
Another shameless ripoff of an idea from inspirational lady.
But now officially the Circus Olay.
Where does one get a trapeze act and a taco to boot?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where does one get a side of beans with dinner? Even if it's actually breakfast?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where does one get fantastic Mexican cowboys battling it out all night with a bunch of bulls?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where do you get to see dozens of Mexican acrobats swinging across the stage to the pulsing jams of Ricky Martin?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where does the staff take a siesta before bringing out your entrees?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where do you get to choose hard or soft when asked where you'd like to sit for the show?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where do you get maracas instead of violins?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where do you get Brown instead of White?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where do you get weird white cheese instead of something that goes by a normal cheese name?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where do you get dragon-fighting hombres?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
Where do you get a donkey instead of a horse?
The Circus Olay. That's what.
OK. Everyone please listen. There has to have been a time in your life at some point when the following seemed perfect and amazingly perfect for you. Let me introduce you to the concept of the Circus Olay, the one and only Mexican acrobatic lion-taming super circus. Oh yes. It's that good.
Fuck white tigers, fuck dudes driving motocross bikes in bit steel ball cages, and fuck clowns. We got real clowns here.
OK, so let's get serious for a minute. I want you to imagine Cirque de Soleil. Really imagine it. All the meth-heads in makeup flip-flopping around stage. There? You got it. So you have those regular crazies, but NOW you add a little spice to the mix. Or any traditional dish actually. Add an empanada, or quesadilla, or burrito, and now you got the Circus Olay. Let your mind drift for a second as I describe to you a typical act in this Mexiparty:
The show starts as usual, there's a ringmaster who comes out and spews a bunch of bull about the show being great and all that. Once the show actually gets underway, that's where all the damn magic happens.
So you have a couple of ladies throwing batons around in the air. Dancing with those Marilyn Monroe era caps, almost like swim caps. They bounce around for a while in front of a pretty backdrop, until someone bursts through that barrier, and looks a bit like Zorro, snaps their fingers, makes a yodel-type sound, making all hell break loose.
Canons explode. So do fire hydrants. All the while screams of joy and resolve are sounded from all corners. Even where no Mexicans are.
Next you have a bunch of guys who look the the 3 amigos, those of the Steve Martin/Chevy Chase fame. Running around stage doing backflips with guitars in hand.
While that's all going on, you have lots of lovely senoritas floating around the room with roses in mouth, smiling away with a ridiculous shade of red lipstick.
Next, lots of guys with mops fucking come flying across the floor, doing the mopping dance. They are able to hold themselves up on said mops, doing all kinds of spins and acrobatic moves. These moves have names, but I am not familiar with them.
All the while, the guys in the white "get your hotdog" outfits in the stands have ripped those off in favor of bull rider fare, tossing full tacos and margaritas to the crowd. It's a bit messy, but by this point, no one seems to care.
Meanwhile, the guy from the coffee label (actually about a dozen of them) do this weird dance with their donkeys, tossing coffee beans in the air the whole while. It is incredible.
Finally, Rosie Perez comes out and talks everyone's ears into bleeding, ending the show. It's the ultimate in lift up and then let down.
Another shameless ripoff of an idea from inspirational lady.
Once, I was on a plane ...
Listening to Alice in Chains on an airplane over the Atlantic ocean is an interesting experience to say the least. Especially after your 4th mini bottle of wine (the 4th of which was a buy-back buy the flight attendant thank you very much, I win!). I am reminded of high school, and the poor attempts of me and my friends trying to play these songs at talent shows, parties, basements. Normally under such circumstances I would revert back to high school memories and try to relive those feelings, but I find I can't do that anymore. I try my hardest sometimes to "feel" the way I did in certain moments of the past, and it just doesn't happen.
For those interested, I am listening to the self-titled 3 legged dog album. Poor dog.
I think this is a sign of maturing/growing up/getting old/getting smart. Maybe. I dunno. But it amazes me. I try to put myself back in a place that I am CERTAIN I knew was great, felt good, made me giddy with juvenile prepubescent joy, but I can't go back there. It just doesn't happen. Methinks it's a natural defense mechanism which forces me to consider the fact that I know more now, and can't rely entirely on new experience anymore for a euphoric high. I've experienced most of it. Now it's a matter of determining whether or not what I felt is genuine or not. And fuck, I love that. May I grow old as dirt and keep realizing what truly works and what doesn't.
God this wine is good. I am told it is French. I don't believe the flight attendant. But he is a nice fellow, so I cannot judge.
There is turbulence. Bring it on.
I am seriously trying to think back to those aforementioned memories, and it's not happening. Living in the now is fantastic.
For those interested, I am listening to the self-titled 3 legged dog album. Poor dog.
I think this is a sign of maturing/growing up/getting old/getting smart. Maybe. I dunno. But it amazes me. I try to put myself back in a place that I am CERTAIN I knew was great, felt good, made me giddy with juvenile prepubescent joy, but I can't go back there. It just doesn't happen. Methinks it's a natural defense mechanism which forces me to consider the fact that I know more now, and can't rely entirely on new experience anymore for a euphoric high. I've experienced most of it. Now it's a matter of determining whether or not what I felt is genuine or not. And fuck, I love that. May I grow old as dirt and keep realizing what truly works and what doesn't.
God this wine is good. I am told it is French. I don't believe the flight attendant. But he is a nice fellow, so I cannot judge.
There is turbulence. Bring it on.
I am seriously trying to think back to those aforementioned memories, and it's not happening. Living in the now is fantastic.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
The Hump Day Fairy
The Hump Day Fairy
One chilly Tuesday evening on a January night, a young lady made a decision that would forever affect her life. What decision would that be? Staying up past midnight of course.
Sounds safe enough. Sounds like a decision that's easily made on the premise of either being too late or not too late. There's no carriage to turn into a pumpkin. No glass slipper to lose. Seriously, either you stay up and watch the end of the Late Show or you don't. It isn't rocket science by any means. Under normal circumstances, this would be the case. But not on THIS night. Oh no, not tonight ...
Why this night was so different? Well, this is the night that the Hump Day Fairy was birthed in all his glory, beginning an eternal life of making the Nine to Fivers even more miserable than they already were. Once upon a time, Wednesday was the light at the end of the tunnel, proof that the week would indeed end and that the worst was behind us. The Hump Day fairy decided that these humans had not suffered enough during their half-week of agony. No more breaks, no more easy ways out. It's sufferin' time.
Our heroine awoke to what seemed like a normal Wednesday. "Wow, what a beautiful day!" she exclaimed as she tossed the covers aside. She danced around the house, getting ready for work, and headed off to face the day. Little did she know the Hump Day Fairy awaited ...
So what is this Hump Day Fairy? I think he has very sharp pointy teeth, wears a dirty brown suit with a yellow shirt, and shows up every day unannounced, without fanfare, and performs some job function which no one else in the company actually knows constitutes. He walks around not looking quite sad, but not happy, just kinda roaming, reminding us all how we resemble a pack of zombies so often in the normal walk of life. His job is to remind us that "UGH, I have to do THIS again today? Haven't I already done this 17 times this week? I thought it was almost Friday for shit's sake!" He reminds you how no matter how cool you might feel, you're the same as him. Asshole.
Once at work, much to the chagrin of Girl (we'll call her Girl from now on), this Wednesday didn't seem quite as right. There were MORE files than were on her desk than the night before, yet she was in the office before any of the regular file-givers were. "What gives?" she said. "Wait a minute ..." and as she looked down, she noticed some crumbs. She picked one up, sniffed it, and determined that it was a crumb from a stale bagel. 2 days old at least. "Is this an expired bagel crumb?" Hump Day Fairies thrive off leftover bagels don't you know?
This "fairy" isn't much of a fairy at all. More of a troll if you like. Except he's not fancy enough to hang out under a bridge to scare you. That would take too much effort. Nor does he come up with clever sayings or cryptic questions to freak you out and keep you off guard. He's just there. Which is more annoying than anything. He gives you more work when you really don't need any more. He talks to you when you make it very obvious that you are not in the mood to be talked to. He's a general annoyance. The proverbial gnat, or actually more like the hair you always find in your iHop omelette.
Every office in the world has a hump day fairy, and usually you don't have to try to very hard to identify him (they are 100 percent male, or possibly a shim, but mostly male). Look for bagel crumbs, folded napkins that are being reused, hordes of desk calendars (those big ones that cover the whole desk), and sticky notes. Also coffee stains from the bottom of mugs are good indications you've found a Hump Day Fairy habitat.
Don't look now people, the Hump Day Fairy is already on your tail, stack of papers in hand ready to deal out misery in bunches.
Inspiration credit given to a lovely soul who helped remind me why I go to the office every day.
Monday, January 12, 2009
What it is to dream
I find it interesting how recently I've noticed a direct relationship between happiness and satisfaction in life and the amount and variety of dreams I have. I mean literal dreams when asleep (although the other kind of dreams also increase in a time like this, but I digress).
I can't say whether not I've ever been out and out depressed before (they say the majority of people have, but I haven't analyzed it), but I've definitely spent periods of time in the last several years where I can honestly say I was unhappy, not enjoying myself, and generally lacking any true desire to change or improve my situation, which is a conundrum in and of itself.
Point being, during these times, life can be dull, monotonous, and ultra repetitive, which I think is the main reason the dreams stop coming. Sleep becomes just about shutting your body off and resting up for another day of the same old shit, nothing special, just need to wake up at X a.m., work for Y hours, shove some boring food in your face, maybe go to the gym, then shut it all down to repeat. Maybe watch a mindless hour of TV. Maybe. Sounds fantastic huh?
You didn't need to read all of that. But it helps explain both the surprise and joy I felt when I started dreaming on a regular basis again. Dreams to me are both an escape, a fantasyland to live out, even if for a moment, some of those impossible situations that maybe you only see in sci-fi movies, or purely impossible due to other circumstances (you meet a dead friend, maybe Ghandi, etc.). They're just neat in a sense. But more important to me is that the physical world I live in becomes its own dream world, in which I am meant to live in fearlessly, flowing on whatever emotion and wave is currently carrying me. I don't control my dreams, they just take me wherever I am supposed to be. When I live in a similar fashion in the "real" world, everything is so much easier, more pleasurable, and just makes a lot more sense.
Most important in all of this are the characters who reside in your world. For a while, I didn't want anyone else taking up space in my dream world. So the dreams died, as no one wanted to show up and hear about my bullshit. One-act plays get old fast. We also sometimes I feel choose the wrong people for us, even though we know we might not like the way we feel/act around them. Why? I dunno. Codependency? Guilt to people please? Want to be the center of attention? Lots of reasons, different for different people. Regardless, I am thankful that today I have some incredible people in my life who have stuck around long enough for me to see how much they mean to me, and how good they make me feel. You know who you are. Thank you.
I wake up from a dream and think "that was neat, but I'm glad to be back to reality now, because THIS world is where the fun is", accept it and prepare myself to make the most of the day. Not just accept the day as another page in an endless boring novel. Time to write and perform, not act out lines that someone else wrote for me. Build a dream world.
This is probably one of the most rambling excuses for a thought that I have ever had, but that's the point isn't it? This is partially due to the fact that as I sit here on a plane to San Francisco, and am about to embark on a several month stay in London, I am pleased to feel things like love/loss/pain/joy. Without the characters in my world, I wouldn't feel these things. At one time, I might have thought "running away to London would be great". I don't want to run away. I don't want to dream of a better place. I want to keep living and keep feeling. I want to show up daily for those I care for, be present in life and try to be as good as I can, to return the favor done so to me.
See, now I'm just writing about how I love good people, and how happy I am that such people exist. Should I have just titled this life is good? I don't want to jinx it I guess.
I can't say whether not I've ever been out and out depressed before (they say the majority of people have, but I haven't analyzed it), but I've definitely spent periods of time in the last several years where I can honestly say I was unhappy, not enjoying myself, and generally lacking any true desire to change or improve my situation, which is a conundrum in and of itself.
Point being, during these times, life can be dull, monotonous, and ultra repetitive, which I think is the main reason the dreams stop coming. Sleep becomes just about shutting your body off and resting up for another day of the same old shit, nothing special, just need to wake up at X a.m., work for Y hours, shove some boring food in your face, maybe go to the gym, then shut it all down to repeat. Maybe watch a mindless hour of TV. Maybe. Sounds fantastic huh?
You didn't need to read all of that. But it helps explain both the surprise and joy I felt when I started dreaming on a regular basis again. Dreams to me are both an escape, a fantasyland to live out, even if for a moment, some of those impossible situations that maybe you only see in sci-fi movies, or purely impossible due to other circumstances (you meet a dead friend, maybe Ghandi, etc.). They're just neat in a sense. But more important to me is that the physical world I live in becomes its own dream world, in which I am meant to live in fearlessly, flowing on whatever emotion and wave is currently carrying me. I don't control my dreams, they just take me wherever I am supposed to be. When I live in a similar fashion in the "real" world, everything is so much easier, more pleasurable, and just makes a lot more sense.
Most important in all of this are the characters who reside in your world. For a while, I didn't want anyone else taking up space in my dream world. So the dreams died, as no one wanted to show up and hear about my bullshit. One-act plays get old fast. We also sometimes I feel choose the wrong people for us, even though we know we might not like the way we feel/act around them. Why? I dunno. Codependency? Guilt to people please? Want to be the center of attention? Lots of reasons, different for different people. Regardless, I am thankful that today I have some incredible people in my life who have stuck around long enough for me to see how much they mean to me, and how good they make me feel. You know who you are. Thank you.
I wake up from a dream and think "that was neat, but I'm glad to be back to reality now, because THIS world is where the fun is", accept it and prepare myself to make the most of the day. Not just accept the day as another page in an endless boring novel. Time to write and perform, not act out lines that someone else wrote for me. Build a dream world.
This is probably one of the most rambling excuses for a thought that I have ever had, but that's the point isn't it? This is partially due to the fact that as I sit here on a plane to San Francisco, and am about to embark on a several month stay in London, I am pleased to feel things like love/loss/pain/joy. Without the characters in my world, I wouldn't feel these things. At one time, I might have thought "running away to London would be great". I don't want to run away. I don't want to dream of a better place. I want to keep living and keep feeling. I want to show up daily for those I care for, be present in life and try to be as good as I can, to return the favor done so to me.
See, now I'm just writing about how I love good people, and how happy I am that such people exist. Should I have just titled this life is good? I don't want to jinx it I guess.
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