Friday, February 08, 2008
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
The hardest thing to do is usually the right one
When I first heard this remark it was probably from a teacher or self-help text and I rolled my eyes at it, thinking it trite and illogically.
Make things hard on purpose?
What about the way of the Tao? Like water?
"Take it easy, Take it easy, don't let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy." (Incredulous question mark.)
Always doing what is most difficult would make for a rather high strung work-a-holic. But are those my own thoughts? I have a cast of critical characters in my head, a sort-of "Ethics in America" meets Jerry Springer type panel that critiques my every thought. The scholarly, emotionally stable Marxist, anti-self-helper is critical of any sort of selp help one-liner. "Society is manufacturing all of your problems. That saying is a capitalist mantra of 60 hour work weeks."
But to have the manicured and nimble fingers of a 5'2" hair dresser running through my hair was what it took for it to click. "You know, the hardest thing to do is usually the right one," she said, as she added texture to my baby thin wispy head of cobwebs. That and an over dose of Rhinocort and Waliten-D. But ok, perhaps hair product and antihistamines are what it takes for a neurotic agnostic to find answers.
Make things hard on purpose?
What about the way of the Tao? Like water?
"Take it easy, Take it easy, don't let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy." (Incredulous question mark.)
Always doing what is most difficult would make for a rather high strung work-a-holic. But are those my own thoughts? I have a cast of critical characters in my head, a sort-of "Ethics in America" meets Jerry Springer type panel that critiques my every thought. The scholarly, emotionally stable Marxist, anti-self-helper is critical of any sort of selp help one-liner. "Society is manufacturing all of your problems. That saying is a capitalist mantra of 60 hour work weeks."
But to have the manicured and nimble fingers of a 5'2" hair dresser running through my hair was what it took for it to click. "You know, the hardest thing to do is usually the right one," she said, as she added texture to my baby thin wispy head of cobwebs. That and an over dose of Rhinocort and Waliten-D. But ok, perhaps hair product and antihistamines are what it takes for a neurotic agnostic to find answers.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Warm Your Globe!
I've got a nifty idea for news feature/ fake propaganda campain.
We could even make Warm Your Globe! pins or tin foil covered hats.
We could go to malls and sell people on the whole WYG campaign and have them sign a petition. We could then publicize the petition... and then I have a segment imagined where I would get a child to say something horrible like "Global Warming Rocks!" or "George Bush, You Can Warm My Globe!" and then I look into the camera, and start to regret what I'm doing.
Ann Coulter, in addition to being an evil whore, has this notion that I think many middle of the road Americans have, and that's that liberals think they're smarter than everyone. I worry that such pointed satire might polarize American politics even further... than I will be the Nader (read: fucked everything up) of the next election by further dividing our already fragmented ranks. I mean, when I wake up every day and think about how many people look to me for guidance, for clarity, or meaning... its really hard. Its hard to be Jerimiah.
So, I wonder if satire is the best approach any more.
Another idea, along the same lines, would be the "Go Back to Where You Came From!" campaign against homosexuals. You know, why did they come to America in the first place? I think Europe. So, it would be a campain to deport Homosexuals back to Europe. You know, uh, where they came from.
Bush is getting a lot of flack for ignoring global warming:
http://msnbc.msn.com/id
He deserves some help, especially considering how hard it is to be president. (Its hard. Really hard work.)
I want to start a campain to show that Global Warming is actually cool!
* Who likes cold weather anyway?
* The Northwest Passage is opening up, allowing more Free Trade! (Yahoo!) and maybe terrorists to blow up Canada. http://www.theglobeandmail.com
* What types of philosophers have come from cold places:
-
Friedrich Nietzsche. brrrrrr!!!!
- Some other dudes! Yuck!
We could even make Warm Your Globe! pins or tin foil covered hats.
We could go to malls and sell people on the whole WYG campaign and have them sign a petition. We could then publicize the petition... and then I have a segment imagined where I would get a child to say something horrible like "Global Warming Rocks!" or "George Bush, You Can Warm My Globe!" and then I look into the camera, and start to regret what I'm doing.
Ann Coulter, in addition to being an evil whore, has this notion that I think many middle of the road Americans have, and that's that liberals think they're smarter than everyone. I worry that such pointed satire might polarize American politics even further... than I will be the Nader (read: fucked everything up) of the next election by further dividing our already fragmented ranks. I mean, when I wake up every day and think about how many people look to me for guidance, for clarity, or meaning... its really hard. Its hard to be Jerimiah.
So, I wonder if satire is the best approach any more.
Another idea, along the same lines, would be the "Go Back to Where You Came From!" campaign against homosexuals. You know, why did they come to America in the first place? I think Europe. So, it would be a campain to deport Homosexuals back to Europe. You know, uh, where they came from.
the Amish Thugs and my Gay Ass Bike coming to Nassau Coliseum this Sunday Sunday Sunday!
I attended some rather rough and tumble schools in NYC and never had any trouble... And then I went to Ephrata.
I had been living in New York City with my Mom who was basically a crackhead minus the crack. It was my Grandmother’s idea to get me out of the Big Bad City and into country. I was loaded onto a train at Amtrak in Grand Central station in “the City” hugging my weeping mother goodbye. I lived with my Fundamentalist Christian Aunt and their litter of adorable, kind, precocious & Jesus-loving offspring for the next six months on Main Street, in Akron.I attended Ephrata HS.
I was picked on incessantly by a bunch of inbred farm boys. I doubt that they were literally "inbred farm boys," but at the time, I resented being picked on, and the easy explanation was that they were too stupid to appreciate my Urban sophistication: I had a mullet, road an English three speed bicycle, wore tight ass wranglers from Goodwill and had a totally bad ass black and white checkered pencil case/bag. With collared shirts, I was know to on occassion wear a bola tie. God I was hot. So hot, in fact, that I was usually sweating.
My Urban chic' style was met with "gleeking" (a covert way of spitting on someone), constant mocking, being punched in the stomach, and someone trying to throw me in a trash can.
What’s interesting though is that when I remember the experience, I remember it in the emotional state of a profoundly awkward and confused teen, not as the profoundly awkward and confused adult I am now. It's as if the memory of the experience changes who I am for a brief moment.
A most exemplary memory I have is of sitting in the back of English class. We were watching “On the Waterfront” with Marlin Brando. A stocky piggish looking boy was describing to a girl sitting next to him the “gay-ass bike” that he had seen me riding to school. He held his hands in front of him, gripping the imaginary handle bars of a “gay-ass bike.” He kept asking me questions like: “is that comfortable?” & “where did you where did you get it?” I was incapacitated with embarrassment and confusion. I didn’t know what to say. I remember paying very close attention to that film, to our teacher explaining how the fog horn was a "narative device."
I’m writing about this not because I want a formal letter of apology from the Principle of EHS, but because seeing this forum reminds me of being a teenager and the choices I faced. My view at the time though was dramatic and self-centered. These kids who bullied me had no special power: we were both weak and confused. I don’t view the my time at EHS as a parable of human cruelty, but more as an thinking point on how our choice of identity and our projections on others effect who we become. I am who I am today because of the power of Dianetics…. Thank you Elron Hubbard!!
No, wait, I’m digressing…I guess my point is: in the “gay-ass bike” (that would be a sweet band name…) scenario, I was dumbfounded by the boy’s questions, and labeled them as “mean”, him as “bully” and me as a “weirdo” and a “victim.” My more I judged, the less I was able to think, and the more emotional my responses became. I believe now that we were both acting out of fear, and that we were both being weak. Thats why I just FedEx'ed him as severe goat head...
How much capacity does a young person have to choose to not act out of fear? What environments encourage more courageous behavior in teens?
Yo.
I had been living in New York City with my Mom who was basically a crackhead minus the crack. It was my Grandmother’s idea to get me out of the Big Bad City and into country. I was loaded onto a train at Amtrak in Grand Central station in “the City” hugging my weeping mother goodbye. I lived with my Fundamentalist Christian Aunt and their litter of adorable, kind, precocious & Jesus-loving offspring for the next six months on Main Street, in Akron.I attended Ephrata HS.
I was picked on incessantly by a bunch of inbred farm boys. I doubt that they were literally "inbred farm boys," but at the time, I resented being picked on, and the easy explanation was that they were too stupid to appreciate my Urban sophistication: I had a mullet, road an English three speed bicycle, wore tight ass wranglers from Goodwill and had a totally bad ass black and white checkered pencil case/bag. With collared shirts, I was know to on occassion wear a bola tie. God I was hot. So hot, in fact, that I was usually sweating.
My Urban chic' style was met with "gleeking" (a covert way of spitting on someone), constant mocking, being punched in the stomach, and someone trying to throw me in a trash can.
What’s interesting though is that when I remember the experience, I remember it in the emotional state of a profoundly awkward and confused teen, not as the profoundly awkward and confused adult I am now. It's as if the memory of the experience changes who I am for a brief moment.
A most exemplary memory I have is of sitting in the back of English class. We were watching “On the Waterfront” with Marlin Brando. A stocky piggish looking boy was describing to a girl sitting next to him the “gay-ass bike” that he had seen me riding to school. He held his hands in front of him, gripping the imaginary handle bars of a “gay-ass bike.” He kept asking me questions like: “is that comfortable?” & “where did you where did you get it?” I was incapacitated with embarrassment and confusion. I didn’t know what to say. I remember paying very close attention to that film, to our teacher explaining how the fog horn was a "narative device."
I’m writing about this not because I want a formal letter of apology from the Principle of EHS, but because seeing this forum reminds me of being a teenager and the choices I faced. My view at the time though was dramatic and self-centered. These kids who bullied me had no special power: we were both weak and confused. I don’t view the my time at EHS as a parable of human cruelty, but more as an thinking point on how our choice of identity and our projections on others effect who we become. I am who I am today because of the power of Dianetics…. Thank you Elron Hubbard!!
No, wait, I’m digressing…I guess my point is: in the “gay-ass bike” (that would be a sweet band name…) scenario, I was dumbfounded by the boy’s questions, and labeled them as “mean”, him as “bully” and me as a “weirdo” and a “victim.” My more I judged, the less I was able to think, and the more emotional my responses became. I believe now that we were both acting out of fear, and that we were both being weak. Thats why I just FedEx'ed him as severe goat head...
How much capacity does a young person have to choose to not act out of fear? What environments encourage more courageous behavior in teens?
Yo.
first time.
Lord, I am so hot. Not in the attractive sense, but in the it-feels-like-I'm-sitting-in-a-pile-of-sweaty-balls sense. I wonder if my hypothalamus is broken.
I've begun reading "the road less traveled" again. It is a slef-help book, in the true sense, but I've accepted that, and will read it in a less crtical way this time.
what a pile of random words this soapdish teapot manifold digressor.
Off to bed.
Future posts will be far more interesting, mind you.
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