Dialing For Rejection: Just Say No

It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe
It don’t matter, anyhow
An’ it ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe
If you don’t know by now
– Bob Dylan (Don’t think twice, it’s all right)

Do you find it hard to say ‘no‘? By the same token, how easy is it for you to accept rejection? In reality, these are two sides of the same coin in respect to how developed your ’emotional intelligence’ is … and perhaps how stable you are as an individual. Now to be honest, if you are already questioning your stability, then you might as well question that of society’s, as well … as I often do on this blog.

Back when I was in kindergarten, I distinctly remember being told “when you grow up you can be anything you want, even the President of the United States!” In retrospect, I wonder what the point of this ‘pie in the sky’ pep talk was? On the surface, it was surely to motivate us kids to succeed in life. Certainly it was to inspire us to set goals and to be all that we were born to be. Yes yes, we all know teachers are liars but …

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Weed Whackers

PROLOGUE:

Herb: In the known universe there are beings that never quite question their existence. They wander wildly through the underbrush of society, slowly strangling the life out of all within their grasp, including themselves. It’s senseless. 

 

DIALOGUE:

Charlie: And so it begins, our journey … our wandering.

Ivy: I wonder … will we wander in vain? Is there a point to all this creeping about?

St. John: About our destiny,  yes. And, we must have faith in our function, our purpose, our very reason for being.

Charlie: Being that you know so much about life, the universe and everything, don’t you think it’s about time we questioned our existence and that which drives us?

Ivy: What drives us is life itself. Isn’t it? 

St. John: It is! Our very existence demands we kowtow and bow to the will of what we were born to do.

Charlie: Do tell! We are slaves to our wills then … or the wills of our nature … and after we do whatever it is we are supposed to do then what happens? What then?

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Crabalocker Crabs Boxed In Sideways

Some get the gravy
And some get the gristle
Some get the marrow bone
And some get nothing
Though there’s plenty to spare.
– Joni Mitchell (Banquet)

 

They say that moving houses is one of life’s most stressful situations. With this statement I tend to both agree and disagree. However, more to the point is that it’s just a depressing affair. There are surprises, usually of the morose kind, as well as subtle disappointments, bith expected and unexpected. The ‘normalcy’ of what you have come to expect, even if defined by ‘normal standards’ as ‘abnormal’, tends to be replaced by a form of irreverent and frenzied ‘hell’ …a helter skelter of sorts that fans of the ‘Lost’ television series know all too well. Yes, I think ‘lost’ is a shade of one way of describing how I feel these days.

I really don’t know where to begin in attempting to extricate myself from this self-imposed purgatory, because ‘sideways’ is not a usual option. But, that is pretty much the way I’ve been moving through life the last 2 months or so. Shuffling to the left, shuffling to the right, I shuffle and shuffle … and then I shut down. Not one for banging my head against a wall over and over again, I’ve just withdrawn into my crabby shell and have been waiting for this state of suffocation to pass … sometimes even forgetting to breathe.

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Decluttering Clogged Clingy Clutchers

What lies in tatters,
trouble be known.
Seeking some wisdom,
so far from home.
It’s been a long time not comin’.
A heavy cross to bear.
A long road of spinning wheels,
leading nowhere.
– Jay Schwartz (A Pocket Full Of Holes)

It’s time denude yet another myth about life with the following reality check: life is not always what you make of it. Whoever said it was was just being pretentious. Most people who are born into poverty stay in poverty. Most people who are born into middle class households stay in middle class households … unless of course they slip into poverty. Very few really ever get ahead or even make it out alive.

It’s the truth. You know it. I know it. We all know it. Nevertheless, we feign denial, shake our heads and cry “no, no, no” and desperately want to believe that ‘change’ is just around the corner or that hope springs eternal. It’s not folks. Sticking your head in the ground like an ostrich only makes it’s easier to lie down in your grave. And, the morbid reality is that ‘life sucks and then you die’.

The poor and the homeless know one thing all too well, ‘you can’t take it with you when you go’. The rest of us, however, find ‘comforting denial’ in our possessions which we accumulate to build up a fortress of sorts in order to keep out intruding thoughts and sobering realities … until the walls come tumbling down and we take up residency on skid row. (Pregnant pause) Oh, did I mention I was moving?

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Our Saving Disgrace: Economic Sheep Dip

I’ve walked and I’ve crawled
on six crooked highways
I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests
I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans
I’ve been ten thousand miles
in the mouth of a graveyard
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard,
it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.
– Bob Dylan (A Hard Rain’s a-Gonna Fall)

 

This morning I awoke to the sound of a hard rain washing away yesterday’s fog. I’m an American; I live in Greece.

In the ‘States’, yesterday was Super Bowl Sunday, in some respects a day that has become less about NFL football and more about big business and advertising. In Greece it was just a ‘lack of business’ as usual. While pre-game tail parties and the commercial brainwashing of Americans were in full swing, political theatrics were being played out by Greek technocrats and bureaucrats that have turned a blind eye and deaf ear to the will of the people.

And, all the while bankers and ‘big business’ continue to turn the screws on ‘we’ the sheep.

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Slacker Talk: Loitering Thoughts On Life

I remember thinking this just can’t be right
Got to be a better way to live your life
Slow like a soft southern breeze
Nobody take time to breathe
Everybody always rush, rush, rush around
Rush, rush, rush around
Rush, rush, rush around
– Edie Brickell (Rush Around)

 

Some called him a Bohemian. Others said he was a slacker. In truth, it doesn’t matter what he was called; all that matters is what we learned from him.

Life is not about learning how to win or lose, as much as it’s about learning how to play and even enjoy the game. For many people, however, this and other life lessons are often lost in their rush to cling to their delusions about what life is really all about: the attainment of some ‘cracker jack prize’ or ‘hollow victory’, if you will. The morbid and honest truth is that rushing your way through life yields the same ‘trophy’ as those who take it slow: a tombstone.

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Pot Watching: Waiting For Fisher

Well I got a lot of patience baby
That’s a lot of patience to lose
– Laura Nyro (When I Was A Freeport And You Were The Main Drag )

 

It’s often been said that football is a metaphor for life. At the time of this writing, I along with all fans of the Miami Dolphins and the St. Louis Rams NFL football teams are anxiously awaiting some word of which team Jeff Fisher, the best coaching candidate on the market at this time, will choose to take over the reigns as head coach. Obviously, there is a good deal of negotiating, contract haggling, power vying and money dangling at stake.  For many fans, the future of their teams’ success rides on this one man’s decision. Word was supposed to have come over the weekend, then on Monday or Tuesday … and of course this limbo has now extended to the mid or end of the work week, leaving many fans pulling their hair out. Yes, suffice it to say that everyone is watching ‘the pot’ waiting for it to boil, even as all involved know that a ‘watched pot never boils’.

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All Thumbs Going Forward

“Whatever you get paid attention for is never what you think is most important about yourself.”
– David Foster Wallace

Last Thursday, in one of those ‘stupid clumsy me’ moments, I bashed my hand against a wall and screwed up my right thumb. As I’ve had my fair share of broken bones over the years, I didn’t think it was fractured and even managed to play guitar with it for a couple of hours with my buddy. Nevertheless, I had it x-rayed the next morning just to be safe; it was swollen and stiff, and the thumb, too! 

While waiting for the x-ray report to come in, I sat thinking back to when I had broken both elbows in a bike accident a couple of years ago, on April Fool’s Day no less. I thought about how crappy it would be to start the New Year incapacitated, trying to get by with my left hand, especially as I’m right-handed. I thought about toasting the New Year holding a champagne glass in my shaky left hand, as well as typing this post one letter at a time in true ‘hunt and peck’ fashion. I considered how 2011 might be giving me one last kick in the crotch before it winks out of existence. And then, a sobering thought struck me, “aww was 2011 really so bad to me?”

About 6 hours before my accident, I had been reading the last post of Joe Bodolai, a comedy writer with many notable television stints to his credit, including Saturday Night Live (SNL). Eulogizing himself, he listed his life’s achievements in length, as well as noted his regrets, personal peeves and even his sardonic predictions for the coming year. He then closed his extensive suicide note expressing thanks to the many who had been a part of his life, as well as suggesting “I need to feel the good that I did and whatever good I have ever done for you is enough for me.” … Well, apparently whatever good he did in his life wasn’t ‘good enough’ for him to rest his laurels on and so he offed himself by drinking a mixture of Gatorade and antifreeze.

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Reason’s Greetings And The Poop On Festive Poop

Come To Holiday Inn
If you’re burdened down with trouble
If your nerves are wearing thin
Park your load down the road
And come to Holiday Inn
– Irving Berlin
Twas The Day After Christmas …
It’s the day after Christmas and I’m sitting here reflecting on the holidays as John Lee Hooker sings “Blues For Christmas”. In England, today is ‘Goodwill Day’, formerly, ‘Boxing Day’, a day set aside for  ‘boxing up’ money or unwanted gifts to donate them to the less fortunate. Nevertheless, it’s more than likely that for many people, especially back in the ‘States, boxing up unwanted gifts is merely a harbinger of prancing down to the mall to act on the ‘many happy returns’ sentiment, laughing all the way.
Truthfully, it’s all too easy get up on a soap box and rant about the holidays and commercialism. The often heard lament of Christmas and consumerism is echoing like Carol of the Bells, “Alas, the spirit of the holiday has been lost in the the glitter and tinsel laced marketing salvos designed to trigger both economic growth for the country and increased personal debt.” You’ve heard that one, right? Puritans and Christmas zealots admonish us annually that the holiday season should evoke feelings of ‘Peace on Earth’ and ‘Good Will to Men”. Even stories like ‘How The Grinch Stole Christmas‘ remind us that “maybe Christmas doesn’t come from a store” and that perhaps the holidays mean something more. Yet in reality, the one thing that most people indeed seem to share this time of year, at least the ones still standing following the Black Friday crush, are over-bloated credit cards and indigestion. In light of this, members of the Westboro Baptist Church would like to remind us that Santa Claus will take you to hell.

Poetic License And The Beads of Sweat

These words ~
Where I leave the loose ends
Of my day with lazy boots
They yawn at me
Two round circles
Eager to let go of where I have been –
Looking back across my week
Words are all I have had
They answer my most uncomfortable questions
They dream with me
They sing with me –
– Nicole Rushin
(excerpt from: Before There Were Words)
Here at the Wooly Yarn, I am rapidly approaching the one year anniversary of this blog, having started it on December 31st, the last day of the year and the eve of the next. While balancing in that precarious moment of temporal limbo, I made a New Year’s resolution to try writing the equivalent of one post a week … with some possible time off for good behavior. As my next post represents my 50th, a milestone in its own right, I am safely well on my way to achieving this goal and then some.
Since we are also well into the Holiday Season, and since last week was Thanksgiving, I want to take a moment to reflect on and reply to a comment left by a fellow blogger, Nicole Rushin, who also happens to be a phenomenal poet. As such, I’d like to dedicate this post to her and the artful inspiration she provides at her blog, ‘Writing As Loud As I Can’. If there were ever a great name for a blog, that has to be it.

The OK Factor

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”
– Steve Jobs
Back in 1967, the year SMiLE was supposed to have been released, Thomas Harris (MD!) published his eventual best-selling ‘self-help’ book, I’m Ok, You’re Ok. This post is not about this book.
However, because the book’s title has passed into pop culture and the public’s obsession with ‘self-help’ ideology, I thought I’d reference it. Just as with Sigmund Freud’s works, Harris’ book, at the very least, does lay out some interesting ideas and terminology for others to build on. On the other hand, ‘Dr.’ Harris also endorsed electro-shock therapy as a treatment for some conditions, so I would approach his writings with a long ‘grounded’ pole.

Nervously Unnerved By Noxious Nothings

Hanging down from my window
Those are my wind chimes
On the warm breeze the little bells
Tinkle like wind chimes
Though it’s hard I try not to look at my wind chimes
Now and then a tear rolls off my cheek
Close your eyes and lean back now listen to wind chimes
In the late afternoon you’re hung up on wind chimes
Though it’s hard I try not to look at my wind chimes
– Wind Chimes (Brian Wilson / Van Dyke Parks)

When was the last time you stepped outside of your head? If you have never done so, I highly recommend it. It can save your sanity. Trust me.

Recently, I’ve had a lot on my mind and just simply ‘too much on my plate’. So much so in fact, that at one point I felt my head teeter to one side, listing and threatening to capsize all rational thought. I did not take this as a good sign. Distracted by the obscenity of this circumstance, I began to obsess compulsively, despite my being repulsed at my impulse to do so. It was then when an errant thought arose, plopping into my mind; it was certainly more of a ‘plop’ and less of a ‘pop’.

At that moment, I found myself standing just off to the side of my mind’s mental highway, staring in bewilderment at a seemingly endless parade of thoughts. They lewdly sashayed their way down the neural pathway, hustling each other along like an errant festoon of Dionysian Mardi Gras party-goers. Now I can ‘surrey and picnic’ with the best of them, but this scene of fervent irreverence was quite surreal. I must confess, I had expected more of my thought processes.

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Minding Your Writer’s Mind

A serious writer is not to be confounded with a solemn writer. A serious writer may be a hawk or a buzzard or even a popinjay, but a solemn writer is always a bloody owl.
– Ernest Hemingway

It would be nice to be able to sit down and write a sentence, then the next, perhaps even a third, and then to follow suit in a linear fashion eventually culminating with the completion of a cohesive and coherent text. Is it really asking too much for my mind to play nice? My often mind flits and flutters like the proverbial wing flapping butterfly in Chaos Theory. With all this wrestling with my thoughts, it’s difficult for me to bear in mind that I’m writing for others. So that basically means, my readers often have to hold on for dear life as they read my words, both those on and between the lines. Somewhere of course there is a message. I know what it is, but it’s the readers’ task to find it. And, like with any trip, getting there is half the fun.

Writing for me needs to be fun. It must have a shade of the abstract and a touch of randomness because that’s just the way my mind works. Can I write in 50 or words or less? No. Can I be less of myself? Definitely not. Why? Because that’s just how my mind works. So why should I fight it. If my writing defies convention so be it; my mind certainly does … and most likely do a fair number of yours.

Yet, for many writers and bloggers, writing is a chore. Ideas don’t come easily and finding their ‘voice’ is like looking for a needle in the verbal haystack. If you fancy yourself a writer or blogger, you most likely desire to establish your identity through your words, and to distinguish yourself from your peers, whomever they may be … especially those monkeys which are banging away in earnest to bang out the entire works of Shakespeare on a typewriter as a matter of happenstance.

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Interlude Of Ineptitude: Goodbye Blogspot, Hello WordPress

I know you’re out there. I can feel you now. I know that you’re afraid… you’re afraid of us. You’re afraid of change. I don’t know the future. I didn’t come here to tell you how this is going to end. I came here to tell you how it’s going to begin. I’m going to hang up this phone, and then I’m going to show these people what you don’t want them to see. I’m going to show them a world without you. A world without rules and controls, without borders or boundaries. A world where anything is possible. Where we go from there is a choice I leave to you.
– Neo (The Matrix)

Just a quick post here, as these comments, an interlude as such, are caught somewhere between ‘been there’ and ‘nice to be here’. As I mentioned elsewhere, I’ve decided to ‘self-host’ this blog and therefore am migrating it to the WordPress blogging platform and away from Google Blogger. It’s something I should’ve done ealier, or perhaps even from the start. However, as with many folks, it was a combination of fear and complacency that prevented me from doing so.

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Relieving Yourself In The Face Of Solemnity

Lay down all thought
Surrender to the void
It is shining
It is shining
– John Lennon (Tomorrow Never Knows)

 

 

I used to believe that each day I knew all there ever was to know. The next day, I would learn a few more things and marvel at how stupid I was the day before. That’s the way it is with life. Each day brings new possibilities, new hopes, new dreams and, of course, fresh concerns. Balancing the ‘yings’ and ‘yangs’ of our existence can leave us dumbfounded as we existentially grope around in our subconscious for our minds to hang our ‘sense of being’ and self-worth on.

For many, juggling the psychic apparatus of their various cognitive and psychological states is serious business, and good business for many institutions come circus barkers. It’s really something to meditate on. Nevertheless, I’ve never been much of a meditator.

In fact, I’m much too full of myself for the practice and balk at any idealistic isms that preach self-nullification. Perhaps it’s a defense mechanism, but for many years, I felt as if I was my own best friend. Alone with my thoughts which I could never really share, I’d entertain myself and find ways to make myself smile. I never heard voices in my head, though I would occasionally talk to myself.

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Whose Shoes Are These? (An Introspective Question)

“You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself
in any direction you choose.
You’re on your own.
And you know what you know.
You are the guy who’ll decide where to go.”
– Dr. Seuss

 

Hang on for a second …

An easy question to ask concerns how often you find yourself having to justify yourself to others. A harder question, and one I might suggest may be much more important, is how often you find ‘others’ having to justify themselves to you?

I just want to say …

Do everyday conversations you have with others feel like losing battles ‘you must’ win? Does social banter take on the sensation that it’s taking place with a fast-taking salesman on a used car lot? When speaking with others, are you simultaneously carrying on a conversation with that ‘inner voice’ talking in your head? Indeed, it often feels like there are so many questions and so little time. And, by the time you are ready to make your point, the conversation has already ended.
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Contrarian Pseudo Babble: A Play With No Parts

 

PROLOGUE:

[An encounter outside the Katywonkered Cafe’]

ACT I

THE PHILOSOPHER:
Before setting off on a voyage, the pagans gather for a feast. The mind vomits forth … and none are saved.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:
So, where are we off to?

THE CYNIC:
Lord only knows. No where fast from what I can see.

THE PRACTICAL ONE:
Well, that’s a great attitude to have. Don’t you have a plan?

THE CYNIC:
What do you think I sit around plotting my every step?

THE PRACTICAL ONE:
Planning. You mean planning your every step.

THE CYNIC:
Six of one, half a dozen of the other. Who cares! Let’s just get on with it, then.

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Lie To Me! Fabrications, Fables, Fairy Tales And Fibs

“He gives speeches, but they put him back in bed where he wrote his satire.”
– Brian Wilson, (He Gives Speeches)

 

I think it was in kindergarten when I remember being told the story of little George “I cannot tell a lie” Washington and the cherry tree he confessed to his father he had chopped down. Through this vignette, my classmates and I were admonished to always tell the truth. The only problem was that often told tale … is a lie, a fabricated fable of fibbing fiction. It was actually created by biographer, Mason Locke Weems, as an anecdote laudable to Washington’s character and as an “exemplary to his countrymen”. Nevertheless, this fractured fairy tale is almost as hallowed as the national anthem.

When I was 2 years old, the US Congress passed the ‘Gulf of Tonkin Resolution’ granting President Johnson the wanton power to take military action as he saw fit in Southeast Asia, ostensibly to combat the spread of communist aggression. The passage of the resolution, enabling Johnson to launch America full-tilt into the Vietnam war, was predicated on a fabricated set of events suggesting that American naval vessels had come under unprovoked attack by the North Vietnamese.

When I first heard the above tale, I remember being skeptical. I’m not sure why my ‘bullshit detector’ went off that day. Perhaps it was the result of a burgeoning character flaw or a latent psychic ability to perceive the teacher’s own insincerity in her own overly dramatic rendition of the fable. Some might say that my lack of gullibility at that tender age speaks volumes of my character or my perception of ethics. And, indeed early on I began to question my moral constitution. In retrospect, I was ‘loony’ to do so.

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We Come In Peace: How About An Anal Probe?

Okay, you guys, this joke has gone far enough! There were no aliens! They didn’t give me an anal probe and they can’t control my mind!

– Cartman (South Park)

In this crazy mixed up galaxy, it’s hard to know who’s who, what’s what and what THEY want. Of course, THEY can say the same, but the universal consensus apparently suggests that we are not the same. To be honest, we’re not really sure who THEY are or if they even exist, but many folks are real nervous just the same.

There’s been some discussion concerning a recent study that reviewed a number scenarios depicting the nature of contact with alien life forms, in other words, extra-terrestrials. The study basically assesses a variety of science fiction themes to reach some conclusion over what contact with extra-terrestrials might reap, and whether or not this is something we might actively want to be pursuing. Word making the rounds is that our ultimate fate may be decided by our galactic neighbors, possibly in the name of ‘keeping the neighborhood safe’.

Ok, so everyone wants to know who or what might be lurking out there in the great galactic void, and of course, what their intentions are. According to the study, a review of science fiction themes reveals the following scenarios:

It’s Me! Really! (and other notions of authenticity)

Hang on to your ego
Hang on, but I know that you’re gonna lose the fight

– Brain Wilson
I’ve come to the conclusion that everyone ‘needs help’. Of course, this last statement can be taken in a number ways. Be that as it may, my focus in this post … the point I’d like to make … the crux of the issue is that there are many people out there, and bloggers in particular, that are desperately trying very hard to be themselves, but just can’t fake it.
That’s right, I said ‘fake it’. It seems a running topic on several blogs I’ve come across is ‘authenticity’ and its definition or application, assuming there is such a thing. I imagine this is a big issue because so much of our society’s feeble mindedness stems from the media ‘selling’ us almost everything. As a consequence, consumers, assuming there really is such a thing anymore, have become naturally distrustful in an effort to mask thier gullability and penchant for ‘rubber necking’.

Better A Living Dog Than A Dead Lion

Acting is the expression of a neurotic impulse.
It’s a bum’s life.
Quitting acting, that’s the sign of maturity.
– Marlon Brando

 

 

 

Preface:
The following is not a conversation. It is an introspective monologue with accompanying commentary, perhaps spoken by a chorus, a collective I’ll call ‘Rael’. If you can figure out who the ‘Id’ is, you’ll understand at least half the story.

They say that discretion is the better part of valor. They also say that “the discretion of a man deferreth his anger; and it is his glory to pass over a transgression (Proverbs 19:11). Actually, they say a lot of things, but these days, I try hard not to listen anymore, and in the end, I’m glad that I have forgotten probably more than I ever knew.

Id:
Once upon a time there was me. Some years later I was taken away from whom I was in order to live a life I did not choose, or want.

Rael:
Choice is an illusion. Your path was chosen for you long before you were even born. In fact, it’s in your blood to be who you are supposed to be. As far as ‘wants’ are concerned, you need not want for anything, for wants will be your downfall.

Id:
In fact, it was less a life, and more an existence. I say ‘existence’ in that I was existing, but it really wasn’t a life, at least not the one I had previously imagined for myself.

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I Told You I Was Trouble: Amy Winehouse RIP (1983-2011)

I cheated myself,
Like I knew I would,
I told you I was trouble,
You know that I’m no good,

 – Amy Winehouse, ‘I’m No Good’ 
He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day but I’m grown,
And there’s no way, in this blue shape,
My tears dry on their own.
– Amy Winehouse, ‘Tears Dry On Their Own’

What the hell’s the matter with you?” is a question that’s often been fired at me point blank in varying contexts, by an even more varied collection of people. Parents, sibling, employers, and colleagues have all hurled this inquisitive barb in my direction. My answer? Well, in general, I’d suggest that the question is moot.

To be honest, I think it’s a strange question, because more often than not, it’s a question that’s asked through a veil of perception that gnaws away at the inquisitors’ sensitivities… or expectations. In fact, I’d argue that it’s not really even a question, but more of a statement of exasperation, spoken by a chafed few who have yet to fathom that there are just some things, situations or people that they can’t control in life.

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Multidimensional Multitasking For Multifaceted Malcontents

“Write without pay until somebody offers to pay”
– Mark Twain

Preamble:

These days, I’m in the middle of a big project. Well, more specifically, it’s several projects that are all interrelated. OK, actually I’ll be honest, the the only thing these projects have in common is that they are blog related and part of my overall scheme to see some profit from blogging in a ‘professional’ and very focused manner. Sounds good except for one problem: my creativity does not afford my mind the luxury of being able to ‘stay the course’ and focus on one thing at a time.

Regardless of the above, a wise man, expert in the ways of blogging, told me to focus on 1 thing at a time. He suggested I give 100% of my effort and attention to one blog, as opposed to 20% of my energy to 5 different projects. Easily enough said, and of course in all my born years I’ve heard that many times over. In fact, you’d think that by now, I’d know better. Apparently not! Yet, I do believe I have ‘just cause’ for dismissing such well-intentioned advice. Let me explain:

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Doomsday: The Day After Nothing Went POOF

Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we: For such as we are of, such we be.
– William ShakespeareWell, it seems as if following the warnings of ‘End Times’, we are all still here. In fact, the only things that went ‘POOF’ yesterday were my popcorn maker and Harold Camping’s false prophecy of Judgment Day … again. Yes, he pulled this back in 1994, too. But hey, I guess the media would prefer we not buy into that old saying ‘once a joke, twice a dope’. News ratings were up, twits twittered and tweeted their brains out on Twitter, and all in all a good time was had by all, except perhaps for the new age Mayans who are still holding out for the apocalypse on Dec. 12, 2012.

Nevertheless, let’s be honest: as you nodded and laughed with the skeptics, how many of you worrywarts with sweaty palms and irritable bowel syndrome (IBS) clenched your butt cheeks together while you feigned smiles and expelled hearty guffaws that would put Santa Clause to shame? Yes, in the comforting isolation of your own homes, how much hand writhing and skin shedding was really going on?
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See Me Seeing Through You

Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.
Dr. SeussThe other day I read an article about the efforts of a nudist colony to attract newer and younger members to complement their existing and perhaps sagging aging community. The article quoted some recently joined ‘members’ who squealed excitement at the feeling of being ‘truly free’ as they danced around a maypole of some sorts. ‘Freedom’, as I believe one member expressed in delight, was defined as being able to reveal ones true nature to others. Yes, I imagine that for some, there is a certain amount of bliss, if not pride, that can be derived from the ability to openly and honestly advertise ‘what you see is what you get’. For others no doubt, such freedom, alas, falls … short.

Anyway, ‘the point’ is that this all got me thinking about honesty and openness, and to what extent we think others see us as we really are, assuming we really know who we are. It’s easy to question this latter point, but I think it’s more interesting to fathom just how well people really know us, especially in terms of understanding whether we are transmitting false signals about our personae or whether others are just plain reading us wrongly. As usual, it ultimately leads to exploring the great divide between ‘us’ and ‘them’.

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