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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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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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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A Birther In The Rye (and other nonconformist ideations)


Light the lamp and fire mellow,
Cabin essence timely hello,
Welcomes the time for a change.
– Cabinessence (Brian Wilson & Van Dyke Parks)

Uncle Sam used to tempt to us to ‘be all that you can be’, assuming we enlisted in the Army. I’m sure that many a good soldier not only answered this challenge, but met this call to action. Lots of others, however, paid it as much mind as they did the Tidy Bowl man (read: Ty-D-Bol) hustling his product from the blue waters of his commode based rowboat. Nevertheless, a bit of logic would suggest that sometimes you have to separate the message from the messenger.

Why do only a fraction of us actually challenge ourselves to be all that we can be? A better question yet might be why we even aspire to be more than we are. Why aren’t we just content to embrace mediocrity? Why must we be egged on to face and overcome adversity, just to fall back on resting on our laurels?

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I think, therefore I am distracted.

Photo source

More than occasionally, I get distracted by things I take more than a passing interest in. I’m working and then somehow “tele-pathetically”, my attention and thoughts have been teleported to some obscure webpage which I micromanage my way through. It just takes one stray thought to hijack my stream of consciousness. It could be about something trivial I read in the news that morning, or something profound I thought about the day before, or even something ethereal I dreamed about … or daydreamed about. Whatever it is, I pursue this new found interest with behemoth vehemence, almost as if I’m championing some cause.

It could be, I think, a coping mechanism of some sorts that I inherited genetically from my father. You see, he was a real estate appraiser, and a reformed mathematician. Half the day he spent driving around different neighborhoods looking at “comparables” (houses that had previously sold) and trying hard not to look like he was casing said neighborhoods for a future home invasion scheme. The other half of the day he would write up his appraisal reports: monotonous long and short forms to be completed with data and figures that mortgage lenders would eventually rip borrowers off with. When completing such forms, my father needed distraction to break up the stress of monotony. If at home or at the office, he’d listen to talk or sports radio. Usually though, he liked to sit at busy places so he could  look up at the all the hustle and bustle and watch people and the world go by. Really! You’d find him sitting at a mall, at the airport, in a hotel lobby, etc. Had Starbucks been around when he was working he most likely would have been a fixture. He had an active mind… so he needed distraction. I’m pretty much the same way … (pensive pregnant pause entered here) … though most likely due to the raging modicum of my mom in me as well, I fear that a small part of my willingness and penchant to be distracted might also betray a much needed break from reality.

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