This is a poem I jotted down in on recent road trip. If you believe you were with me on this particular road trip, this was only inspired by the situation... I don't actually feel this way about the trip.
Road Trip (January 6, 2008)
Sitting in silence and the car
We let the radio do the talking
I won't find out who you are
And there is no chance of stopping
And so we go and miles chew away
The only thing said is complaint of cold
Warmth has been lacking all day
Some words are more than what is told
Miles and miles in a single direction
It's enough to make a lonely man cry
Because I have more connection
To the people in other cars going by
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
The Word That Can Be Done Without
May I submit, for your appraisal, a word that I think should be at the top of the list of "Words That Should Be Removed From The English Language In The Name Of General Happiness"
The word I'd like to submit is 'no'
Perhaps it is because I am an optimist, or maybe it is because of some other wiring I've picked up... but I'd like to submit that, and not just me, most people are acutely aware of the things they cannot do. I am incredibly aware, at this moment, of the multitudinous collection of shit that can't be done. For example, I can't make it a weekend. I can't see any of my extended family tonight. I can't be elected president this year. I can't forget things, I can't remember things, I can't stop things, I can't do things. I cannot live my life being defined by things I cannot do, and even more critically I absolutely cannot sit idly by when someone wants to add to the list of things I cannot do.
So I propose we throw out the word 'no.' Because 'no' is final and has no conditions. 'Only,' 'Maybe,' 'Potentially,' and 'If.' These are words that have open doors. These are words that have hope and show a path... they are also words to live by. These are words that can make dreams come true. To say that you can't win the lottery is ludicrous, because the potentiality is irrefutable. It is only highly improbable that you win, because you win "only if" your number is called out of millions. Even if it was not foreseeably possible that you could win... or that it is not foreseeably possible that I own a house on Mars before I die. It is still potentially possible, however outside that chance may be.
The word I'd like to submit is 'no'
Perhaps it is because I am an optimist, or maybe it is because of some other wiring I've picked up... but I'd like to submit that, and not just me, most people are acutely aware of the things they cannot do. I am incredibly aware, at this moment, of the multitudinous collection of shit that can't be done. For example, I can't make it a weekend. I can't see any of my extended family tonight. I can't be elected president this year. I can't forget things, I can't remember things, I can't stop things, I can't do things. I cannot live my life being defined by things I cannot do, and even more critically I absolutely cannot sit idly by when someone wants to add to the list of things I cannot do.
So I propose we throw out the word 'no.' Because 'no' is final and has no conditions. 'Only,' 'Maybe,' 'Potentially,' and 'If.' These are words that have open doors. These are words that have hope and show a path... they are also words to live by. These are words that can make dreams come true. To say that you can't win the lottery is ludicrous, because the potentiality is irrefutable. It is only highly improbable that you win, because you win "only if" your number is called out of millions. Even if it was not foreseeably possible that you could win... or that it is not foreseeably possible that I own a house on Mars before I die. It is still potentially possible, however outside that chance may be.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Up From The Bowels of my Lungs
Monday, Monday, you just can't trust that day. It all started with a tickle behind my sternum, which would prompt light and lazy coughs. The sort of coughs that normal coughs teased back in elementary school.... and still do now. It was so slight an inconvenience, I thought it was because I hadn't turned on my humidifier the night before. So Monday night came, and I made sure to turn on the soothing, white noise generating, humidifier, and passed out. Tuesday came and went without much noticeable change in condition, as did Wednesday. However, I did talk with someone on Wednesday that mentioned they'd been having the same sort of experience. So I thought even less of the situation, now written off as no more than a meteorological phenomenon.
On Thursday, a small sniffle was added to the mix. Not to the point of necessary nose blowing, just that delicious sounding inhale was needed to keep all my juices inside, and even that probably only 2 or 3 times during the day. Ah, but Thursday night, everything changed. Apparently it took from Monday to Thursday evening for the Mongolian horde to ride around the wall. I woke up in the middle of the night to the incredible clamor of my body fighting a strategic retreat, apparently the only safe ground left was my toes. Luckily the forces fortified there and let the swarming masses of infection dash themselves against the walls of justice and antibodies.
Friday at work it was bad news, we could close a real big deal on Monday and I can't really miss... plus I generally don't regain consciousness until I log into my computer at work (the whole walk to I make in a groggy zen-like haze). I think I went through a solid half box of kleenex, and that is using each kleenex multiple times, as well. At this point, though, it seemed like the villainous infections were happy enough to play in my sinuses. It was though they were vikings entranced by a coastal village as yet unpillaged. Friday evening, though, the honeymooning was over and it was all business.
Since going to bed on friday night, I was out of it for 3 hours yesterday and so far an hour today. I have been employing the "steam them out" strategy of getting under as many covers as possible and sleeping fitfully. With a trusty 64oz Pepperidge Farm Goldfish box near my bed, in case the filthy bastards breached my stomach, (what? I don't keep extra trash cans for this sort of stuff, sorry.) I took on the offensive. It appears to be working. 33 of 37 hours in bed later, I am no longer consistently hacking and gagging... just the occasional hack. AND, I have only blown my nose twice in the past hour... although admittedly there has been some wiping. I'm going to give this "awake" thing a try for a little longer this afternoon, then maybe warm up some ol' chicken noodle soup and re-hit the sack. mmm mmmm, maybe I'll just warm some up right now, since I'm already thinking about it :)
On Thursday, a small sniffle was added to the mix. Not to the point of necessary nose blowing, just that delicious sounding inhale was needed to keep all my juices inside, and even that probably only 2 or 3 times during the day. Ah, but Thursday night, everything changed. Apparently it took from Monday to Thursday evening for the Mongolian horde to ride around the wall. I woke up in the middle of the night to the incredible clamor of my body fighting a strategic retreat, apparently the only safe ground left was my toes. Luckily the forces fortified there and let the swarming masses of infection dash themselves against the walls of justice and antibodies.
Friday at work it was bad news, we could close a real big deal on Monday and I can't really miss... plus I generally don't regain consciousness until I log into my computer at work (the whole walk to I make in a groggy zen-like haze). I think I went through a solid half box of kleenex, and that is using each kleenex multiple times, as well. At this point, though, it seemed like the villainous infections were happy enough to play in my sinuses. It was though they were vikings entranced by a coastal village as yet unpillaged. Friday evening, though, the honeymooning was over and it was all business.
Since going to bed on friday night, I was out of it for 3 hours yesterday and so far an hour today. I have been employing the "steam them out" strategy of getting under as many covers as possible and sleeping fitfully. With a trusty 64oz Pepperidge Farm Goldfish box near my bed, in case the filthy bastards breached my stomach, (what? I don't keep extra trash cans for this sort of stuff, sorry.) I took on the offensive. It appears to be working. 33 of 37 hours in bed later, I am no longer consistently hacking and gagging... just the occasional hack. AND, I have only blown my nose twice in the past hour... although admittedly there has been some wiping. I'm going to give this "awake" thing a try for a little longer this afternoon, then maybe warm up some ol' chicken noodle soup and re-hit the sack. mmm mmmm, maybe I'll just warm some up right now, since I'm already thinking about it :)
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
In Lieu Of 'Poor Me'
I've been blogging a fair bit lately, or at least comparatively. Even more than I have actually been blogging, I have at least 4-5 entries backed up. However... none of them have moved me to put fingers to keyboard, which is why they are backed up. The thing that is moving me to write now is to preempt a 'Poor Me' blog in the near future.
I think I'm moving into a swing where I get all mopey and feel like changing my tag line back to "How come everyone that is weird like me is on drugs?" among other things. A quick look at my biorhythm (Mark the birth month as 'February') says that I'm peak emotional today and basically shitty everything else. That doesn't feel too far off. Hah. I just used the verb "feel" on a day when I'm supposed to be very emotional. Funny.
I was walking to work today and noticed a few fire hydrants had been opened up and were pumping water out into the street. It seemed odd, but there was a water truck pulling up, so I assumed that it was about to be closed up. However when I got to work, co-workers clued me in toa water main leak that apparently had the Columbus Convention Center flooded with 2ft of water. So thinking back to my walk in, I tried to figure out what that would have to do with the hydrants being open... if anything. My guess is that they were trying to reduce the pressure on the main that had broken and were letting water out through other outlets that wouldn't run into the Convention Center... this could have occurred before or after they shut off the water to the area. It was around the right time, I get to work at 8am.
There is also a conversational device I use when I am uncomfortable with situations. I will ask about asking a question. For example, "Would you be mad at me if I asked if you had cheated on me while I was on vacation?" or, more frequently, "Would you think I was weird if I asked you if you could be any digit, 0-9, what digit would you be?" People will generally respond in one of two ways... they will either get mad and think I am weird or they will tell me the answer to my question.
What do broken water mains and meta-questions have to do with my sense of alienation perhaps growing more acute? They're metaphors, and somewhat self-referencing metaphors. Allowing me let off some pressure by talking about what I could potentially be talking about without actually talking about. (Because no one likes mopey blogs.)
Here are some questions that I have been tussling with:
Does progress in my quest for consciousness, self-awareness, and understanding of the relationship between myself and the universe come at the expense of my quest for a soulmate?
Am I using dancing as a form of escapism? Can useful results negate escapism and/or is all escapism inherently bad?
What habits of mine are perpetuated solely by habit and what habits have solid arguments for their continuation?
Why is everyone that is weird like me on drugs?
I think I'm moving into a swing where I get all mopey and feel like changing my tag line back to "How come everyone that is weird like me is on drugs?" among other things. A quick look at my biorhythm (Mark the birth month as 'February') says that I'm peak emotional today and basically shitty everything else. That doesn't feel too far off. Hah. I just used the verb "feel" on a day when I'm supposed to be very emotional. Funny.
I was walking to work today and noticed a few fire hydrants had been opened up and were pumping water out into the street. It seemed odd, but there was a water truck pulling up, so I assumed that it was about to be closed up. However when I got to work, co-workers clued me in toa water main leak that apparently had the Columbus Convention Center flooded with 2ft of water. So thinking back to my walk in, I tried to figure out what that would have to do with the hydrants being open... if anything. My guess is that they were trying to reduce the pressure on the main that had broken and were letting water out through other outlets that wouldn't run into the Convention Center... this could have occurred before or after they shut off the water to the area. It was around the right time, I get to work at 8am.
There is also a conversational device I use when I am uncomfortable with situations. I will ask about asking a question. For example, "Would you be mad at me if I asked if you had cheated on me while I was on vacation?" or, more frequently, "Would you think I was weird if I asked you if you could be any digit, 0-9, what digit would you be?" People will generally respond in one of two ways... they will either get mad and think I am weird or they will tell me the answer to my question.
What do broken water mains and meta-questions have to do with my sense of alienation perhaps growing more acute? They're metaphors, and somewhat self-referencing metaphors. Allowing me let off some pressure by talking about what I could potentially be talking about without actually talking about. (Because no one likes mopey blogs.)
Here are some questions that I have been tussling with:
Does progress in my quest for consciousness, self-awareness, and understanding of the relationship between myself and the universe come at the expense of my quest for a soulmate?
Am I using dancing as a form of escapism? Can useful results negate escapism and/or is all escapism inherently bad?
What habits of mine are perpetuated solely by habit and what habits have solid arguments for their continuation?
Why is everyone that is weird like me on drugs?
Monday, January 7, 2008
Distilling the Argument
I was reading about this Huckabee guy that stormed the Republican caucus in Iowa and the article I was reading quoted him extensively before addressing his issues. Note, here, that I am not very political, so I didn't know what any of his stances might be... or even really what particular stances would matter this time.
So I was reading along and thinking, this guy seems real nice. Seems like he's pretty level headed and interested more in getting stuff done than pulling strings to make things happen. Then I got to some of his stances and blanched.
Here is the link to his issues, if you'd like to look:
http://www.mikehuckabee.com/?FuseAction=Issues.Home
I find more and more I am socially liberal. The one that gets me is the constitutional amendment defining marriage as one man and one woman. The issue of same sex marriages can be simplified, without fear of oversimplification, to a single question.
Do you support love or would you deny love?
Perhaps your stance is not that there should be no binding between same sex couples, but there should be some other institution because such things might impugn the sanctity of marriage. Are you so unsure of your own capacity to love and remain true that two people you have never met will somehow break your will? Will you be ashamed of yourself when they read 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 at your wedding and say that "Love is not jealous" but you felt there somehow wasn't enough to go around that you might share it with same sex couples?
Perhaps your argument doesn't attempt to hide religious underpinnings and you simply attest that homosexuality is an abomination in the eyes of god, and why would you be allowed the privilege of marriage when last night you spit in god's face? I'll take from the same passage and say that "there are three things that last forever: faith, hope, and love; but the greatest of them all is love."
What now? In the very instruction manual to salvation you are directed to abandon faith in the name of love. Or maybe you will just have a different reading at your ceremony and forget this whole inconvenient little blog
So I was reading along and thinking, this guy seems real nice. Seems like he's pretty level headed and interested more in getting stuff done than pulling strings to make things happen. Then I got to some of his stances and blanched.
Here is the link to his issues, if you'd like to look:
http://www.mikehuckabee.com/?FuseAction=Issues.Home
I find more and more I am socially liberal. The one that gets me is the constitutional amendment defining marriage as one man and one woman. The issue of same sex marriages can be simplified, without fear of oversimplification, to a single question.
Do you support love or would you deny love?
Perhaps your stance is not that there should be no binding between same sex couples, but there should be some other institution because such things might impugn the sanctity of marriage. Are you so unsure of your own capacity to love and remain true that two people you have never met will somehow break your will? Will you be ashamed of yourself when they read 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 at your wedding and say that "Love is not jealous" but you felt there somehow wasn't enough to go around that you might share it with same sex couples?
Perhaps your argument doesn't attempt to hide religious underpinnings and you simply attest that homosexuality is an abomination in the eyes of god, and why would you be allowed the privilege of marriage when last night you spit in god's face? I'll take from the same passage and say that "there are three things that last forever: faith, hope, and love; but the greatest of them all is love."
What now? In the very instruction manual to salvation you are directed to abandon faith in the name of love. Or maybe you will just have a different reading at your ceremony and forget this whole inconvenient little blog
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