Saturday, December 17, 2005
I see nervous…I see innocence…Playboy January 2006
I see nervous…
I remember watching that documentary Inside Deep Throat at the Mayan. It had this scene of Hugh Hefner on some talk show having a discussion with feminists. In the discussion Hef innocently addressed the women as, “girls.” This is probably the biggest taboo in the culture of feminists. Although I wouldn’t agree with this analogy personally, I’m sure in the grand scheme of things having the man who was one of the biggest catalysts for the sexual revolution call a group of feminists “girls” would be akin to some white guy in a crowd of black people addressing them as “niggers.” Hef’s word was not well received as these women started spitting slanderous venom toward him incessantly ridiculing his word choice. As the women started to verbally mal into Hef as he just sort sat there. He was silent, taken aback and seemingly nervous. This was not at all how I expected a world class businessman to respond. This was a man who built an empire. He is in the presence of the most beautiful women in the world 24 hours a day. Hef, this bigger than life man, didn’t have one rebuttal for these squawking hens. He looked-- he well--he looked awkward… (Ok I’ll say my first gut reaction to my subjective viewing. He didn’t defend himself so) he looked stupid.
Dream patron…
A couple days ago I received a magazine discreetly wrapped in black plastic. This is not a magazine-- really; it’s the world’s community garden of dreams. It was the January 2006 issue of Playboy. If one would look a little deeper than this issue’s gold background cover with a picture of Lisa Guerrero, former Monday Night Football reporter, standing at the fore then one would be invited to one of most culturally diverse artistic endeavor the world of print media has to offer. My girlfriend being a rabid Shel Silverstein fan was also pleased to find a feature about this creative cannon ball of a human being on page 74. The part of the article that best caught my attention was page 78. Shel was talking to Hef and he said, “You were always so supportive of the individual fulfilling what he had to do,” he told Hefner. “Those of us whose dreams were different form yours were still able to have the kind of life we wanted.” This dream concept has been a motif I regularly encounter being scribed about Playboy. Dream-Turn to page 142 in this specific issue and read about Vanessa Hoelsher’s work life. She’s a 23-year-old who is in the process of making her own Italian wine label called Bellisima. Dream- Hef paid Shel $500 for some of his pictures and this was the event that jumpstarted Shel’s career. Dream- Playboy was founded on one man’s dream to create the penultimate of men’s magazines. Hef already worked for Esquire and asked them for a $5 per hour raise to which they denied. He then laboriously sought after the frustration of his dream by writing, editing and taking care of the business aspects of his own (dream) magazine. Sounds like a Dream- It was in my first journalism class at Metro that my professor L. Washington said that as a journalist you need to keep your ear to the ground. Washington continued. Read anything you can get your hands on. You may be surprised but Playboy has the best journalistic articles out there. Stephen King writes for Playboy and they pay up to $20,000 an article. If Playboy pays that much per article I could write one article a year and be OK if I worked 20 hours a week somewhere. If I wrote two articles I would be better off than I am now. If I wrote three articles I’d be living better then anyone I associate with. If I wrote four articles a year I could maybe buy a house here in Denver in the Victorian clad Baker neighborhood were I’ve dreamed of living. That would be damn cool. The quality of life from such an endeavor would be miraculous. Let’s say a person wasn’t writing time sensitive material like features. If one was to spend one month writing each article then four months of their life would be spent in the laborious writing practice and eight months could be spent on…catching up on some sleep. I’ve always thought about volunteering for some environmental cause, or at some old folk’s home or for fundraising for school art’s programs. I guess I would be able to spend a month on each of those cause per year and still have five months to sleep. What is all this beginning to sound like? A dream patron- Famous people have an unfair advantage over us mere mortals. Famous people can continually cash in on their name (of course the big down side to such fame is the constant public scrutiny.) Famous or not people are people. We all do things that make us money but once we are secure in our ways, the best of us try to find a medium of artistic expression to divulge our soul and unsung desires. Jenny McCarthy the model, actress and playmate I best remember for being a host of Singled Out on MTV takes her artistic stab behind the camera for Playboy. Give the camera and recruiting freedoms to an old bunny…that sounds like Playboy is really out of touch with affording the freedom to let a person express their other talents.
The forest for the trees…
I’m a human. I have my hang-ups. I have instinctual stereotypes that spur up in my mind when greeted by a person. Fortunately, I don’t believe these stereotypes have control over me. I think people have fairly simple views in their head and they associate those ideas with a group and that’s when all hell breaks loose as their views go to the outer-realms of extremes. There is nothing sexier than a strong, intelligent, liberated woman. I love thoughts and ideas and you attack my soft spot when you introduce me to a woman who can eloquently express them. I know from experience. My girlfriend is 1,000,000 times smarter than me. She fluently speaks Norwegian, Spanish, French, Portuguese and English. She schools me on everything. She is one tough minded person but she is an example of how this can be done without being fascist. Feminists, when they take their stance as a group, run the gauntlet of being what they hate. Feminists stand for good causes, they don’t want be cast into subordinate roles and they want the same access to opportunity that men are afforded. How are these goals accomplished? Usually (not always but usually) this happens through reverse discrimination. They conjugate in a group and use that power to attack issues and people that really don’t exploit their group’s cause. When I meet a person I see their arm but it would be an injustice if my observation began and ended with that one little section of the body. “Oh your arm has a hairy mole where the joints connect at the elbow. You’re ugly!!!” That being said a person could have faults or one ugly virtue or one simple birth defect and be ostracized their entire life. It’s sad, but this happens more often than not. I wish we could see a person for the curvature of their lip, the texture of their hair, the color of their smile or the melody of their laugh. Then stand back and give the person the time it takes to really see them for who they are. Focus what you want, where you might-- but such extreme scrutiny destroys the content of the soul by not allowing its other parts to breathe into your complete picture of it. Breathe people breathe and find the middle ground. The contents of Playboy include a vast landscape of American culture from movie reviews, album reviews, facts, fashion, beautiful naked women, technology, humor, visual art, interviews, politics, short stories, comics…etc. etc. It sounds like a lot of lives and dreams being lived through a magazine that gets carelessly summed up as nudie hoopla. One may have no use for such content but it reaches out to more interests than you might think.
Shel says it better in his poem from his book A Light in the Attic titled Zebra Question…
I asked the zebra,
Are you black with white stripes?
Or white with black stripes?
And the zebra asked me,
Are you good with bad habits?
Or are you bad with good habits?
Are you noisy with quiet times?
Or are you quiet with noisy times?
Are you happy with some sad days?
Or are you sad with some happy days?
Are you neat with some sloppy ways?
Or are you sloppy with some neat ways?
And on and on and on and on
And on and on he went.
I’ll never ask a zebra
About stripes
Again.
I see innocence…
A child hurts himself while playing on a tree. He runs to his parent with tears in his eyes, in need of comfort and cleaning. The parent asks, “Why were you playing in that tree?” The child will respond with that blank defenseless stare. The child can’t defend himself because he is the defense, he is the dream, and he is the innocence fearlessly chasing up a tree to be closer to the sky. But, how can you explain that to a non-dreamer? My gut instinct, while watching Hef nervously say nothing in his defense to the feminist’s attacks during that talk show snippet, was wrong. That wasn’t the response of someone stupid. That was the response of innocence.
I see nervous…
I remember watching that documentary Inside Deep Throat at the Mayan. It had this scene of Hugh Hefner on some talk show having a discussion with feminists. In the discussion Hef innocently addressed the women as, “girls.” This is probably the biggest taboo in the culture of feminists. Although I wouldn’t agree with this analogy personally, I’m sure in the grand scheme of things having the man who was one of the biggest catalysts for the sexual revolution call a group of feminists “girls” would be akin to some white guy in a crowd of black people addressing them as “niggers.” Hef’s word was not well received as these women started spitting slanderous venom toward him incessantly ridiculing his word choice. As the women started to verbally mal into Hef as he just sort sat there. He was silent, taken aback and seemingly nervous. This was not at all how I expected a world class businessman to respond. This was a man who built an empire. He is in the presence of the most beautiful women in the world 24 hours a day. Hef, this bigger than life man, didn’t have one rebuttal for these squawking hens. He looked-- he well--he looked awkward… (Ok I’ll say my first gut reaction to my subjective viewing. He didn’t defend himself so) he looked stupid.
Dream patron…
A couple days ago I received a magazine discreetly wrapped in black plastic. This is not a magazine-- really; it’s the world’s community garden of dreams. It was the January 2006 issue of Playboy. If one would look a little deeper than this issue’s gold background cover with a picture of Lisa Guerrero, former Monday Night Football reporter, standing at the fore then one would be invited to one of most culturally diverse artistic endeavor the world of print media has to offer. My girlfriend being a rabid Shel Silverstein fan was also pleased to find a feature about this creative cannon ball of a human being on page 74. The part of the article that best caught my attention was page 78. Shel was talking to Hef and he said, “You were always so supportive of the individual fulfilling what he had to do,” he told Hefner. “Those of us whose dreams were different form yours were still able to have the kind of life we wanted.” This dream concept has been a motif I regularly encounter being scribed about Playboy. Dream-Turn to page 142 in this specific issue and read about Vanessa Hoelsher’s work life. She’s a 23-year-old who is in the process of making her own Italian wine label called Bellisima. Dream- Hef paid Shel $500 for some of his pictures and this was the event that jumpstarted Shel’s career. Dream- Playboy was founded on one man’s dream to create the penultimate of men’s magazines. Hef already worked for Esquire and asked them for a $5 per hour raise to which they denied. He then laboriously sought after the frustration of his dream by writing, editing and taking care of the business aspects of his own (dream) magazine. Sounds like a Dream- It was in my first journalism class at Metro that my professor L. Washington said that as a journalist you need to keep your ear to the ground. Washington continued. Read anything you can get your hands on. You may be surprised but Playboy has the best journalistic articles out there. Stephen King writes for Playboy and they pay up to $20,000 an article. If Playboy pays that much per article I could write one article a year and be OK if I worked 20 hours a week somewhere. If I wrote two articles I would be better off than I am now. If I wrote three articles I’d be living better then anyone I associate with. If I wrote four articles a year I could maybe buy a house here in Denver in the Victorian clad Baker neighborhood were I’ve dreamed of living. That would be damn cool. The quality of life from such an endeavor would be miraculous. Let’s say a person wasn’t writing time sensitive material like features. If one was to spend one month writing each article then four months of their life would be spent in the laborious writing practice and eight months could be spent on…catching up on some sleep. I’ve always thought about volunteering for some environmental cause, or at some old folk’s home or for fundraising for school art’s programs. I guess I would be able to spend a month on each of those cause per year and still have five months to sleep. What is all this beginning to sound like? A dream patron- Famous people have an unfair advantage over us mere mortals. Famous people can continually cash in on their name (of course the big down side to such fame is the constant public scrutiny.) Famous or not people are people. We all do things that make us money but once we are secure in our ways, the best of us try to find a medium of artistic expression to divulge our soul and unsung desires. Jenny McCarthy the model, actress and playmate I best remember for being a host of Singled Out on MTV takes her artistic stab behind the camera for Playboy. Give the camera and recruiting freedoms to an old bunny…that sounds like Playboy is really out of touch with affording the freedom to let a person express their other talents.
The forest for the trees…
I’m a human. I have my hang-ups. I have instinctual stereotypes that spur up in my mind when greeted by a person. Fortunately, I don’t believe these stereotypes have control over me. I think people have fairly simple views in their head and they associate those ideas with a group and that’s when all hell breaks loose as their views go to the outer-realms of extremes. There is nothing sexier than a strong, intelligent, liberated woman. I love thoughts and ideas and you attack my soft spot when you introduce me to a woman who can eloquently express them. I know from experience. My girlfriend is 1,000,000 times smarter than me. She fluently speaks Norwegian, Spanish, French, Portuguese and English. She schools me on everything. She is one tough minded person but she is an example of how this can be done without being fascist. Feminists, when they take their stance as a group, run the gauntlet of being what they hate. Feminists stand for good causes, they don’t want be cast into subordinate roles and they want the same access to opportunity that men are afforded. How are these goals accomplished? Usually (not always but usually) this happens through reverse discrimination. They conjugate in a group and use that power to attack issues and people that really don’t exploit their group’s cause. When I meet a person I see their arm but it would be an injustice if my observation began and ended with that one little section of the body. “Oh your arm has a hairy mole where the joints connect at the elbow. You’re ugly!!!” That being said a person could have faults or one ugly virtue or one simple birth defect and be ostracized their entire life. It’s sad, but this happens more often than not. I wish we could see a person for the curvature of their lip, the texture of their hair, the color of their smile or the melody of their laugh. Then stand back and give the person the time it takes to really see them for who they are. Focus what you want, where you might-- but such extreme scrutiny destroys the content of the soul by not allowing its other parts to breathe into your complete picture of it. Breathe people breathe and find the middle ground. The contents of Playboy include a vast landscape of American culture from movie reviews, album reviews, facts, fashion, beautiful naked women, technology, humor, visual art, interviews, politics, short stories, comics…etc. etc. It sounds like a lot of lives and dreams being lived through a magazine that gets carelessly summed up as nudie hoopla. One may have no use for such content but it reaches out to more interests than you might think.
Shel says it better in his poem from his book A Light in the Attic titled Zebra Question…
I asked the zebra,
Are you black with white stripes?
Or white with black stripes?
And the zebra asked me,
Are you good with bad habits?
Or are you bad with good habits?
Are you noisy with quiet times?
Or are you quiet with noisy times?
Are you happy with some sad days?
Or are you sad with some happy days?
Are you neat with some sloppy ways?
Or are you sloppy with some neat ways?
And on and on and on and on
And on and on he went.
I’ll never ask a zebra
About stripes
Again.
I see innocence…
A child hurts himself while playing on a tree. He runs to his parent with tears in his eyes, in need of comfort and cleaning. The parent asks, “Why were you playing in that tree?” The child will respond with that blank defenseless stare. The child can’t defend himself because he is the defense, he is the dream, and he is the innocence fearlessly chasing up a tree to be closer to the sky. But, how can you explain that to a non-dreamer? My gut instinct, while watching Hef nervously say nothing in his defense to the feminist’s attacks during that talk show snippet, was wrong. That wasn’t the response of someone stupid. That was the response of innocence.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Catch 22
Work and school- So, I really don’t make that much money considering the cost of living here in Denver. I do OK but there’s not really much $$$ for any extras. I figure this is cool because I’m focusing on college and hey who needs the extras? When I talk about extras I mean save up to pay for college kind of thing. The money I live off can’t afford me that. But I can’t really focus on college as much as I’d like because I have a full time job….but if I was to quit my job and attempt to get student loans I could only get $3,000 which is only enough to pay for school. So because I have a job that pays alright I can’t get student loans to help with living expenses. Because I have a job that can’t even pay for my education I have to take the $3,000 in loans and still have to work. So I can’t focus on school as much as I’d like because I’m tied to my job…but if I didn’t have school I ‘d be stupid to leave this job because it pays about double of what any job I know out there would pay…i.e. Starbucks…etc.
Life/School/Work- I’m a curious person and I love to write. I am so happy to be getting my degree in journalism, it just feels right. But with such an important goal comes the sacrifice. I don’t have that extra time to be around my family. I can’t devote time with my fr…wait a minute I don’t have any of those. I think partly the reason I don’t have any of those is because I’m too busy to put much effort into it. On top of that people don’t like me…not in a bad poor me the world hates me kind of way just in the: oh there’s a guy over there…yeah cool, kind of way. I’m mostly unstickable yeah that would be the way I would put it. I might be able to have friends but I think I’d have to put 3,000% to the whole friendship thing…not that I’m not willing to but I don’t have time for that. So I go to school to chase my dreams of a better life but because I’m in school I don’t have time to live my life. I love my girlfriend but most people have more than one tangible friend playing important roles in their life. She has to be it all for me the one I compete with, the one I can confide to, the one I can look stupid in front of, the one I can cry to, and the one that talks to me…etc…..That’s the catch. I need to get talents to fulfill my dreams and hopefully align those dreams with my livelihood but I can’t even share any of those dreams with people that make living the dream worth while.
USA- They have this little tagline car commercial thing for our country??? “Live the American dream.” What they forget to tell you is if your middle class you can either live or dream…you really can’t do both.
And don’t give me that…”Were better off than most people/places” b.s…That’s such an Uncle Tom concept.
Work and school- So, I really don’t make that much money considering the cost of living here in Denver. I do OK but there’s not really much $$$ for any extras. I figure this is cool because I’m focusing on college and hey who needs the extras? When I talk about extras I mean save up to pay for college kind of thing. The money I live off can’t afford me that. But I can’t really focus on college as much as I’d like because I have a full time job….but if I was to quit my job and attempt to get student loans I could only get $3,000 which is only enough to pay for school. So because I have a job that pays alright I can’t get student loans to help with living expenses. Because I have a job that can’t even pay for my education I have to take the $3,000 in loans and still have to work. So I can’t focus on school as much as I’d like because I’m tied to my job…but if I didn’t have school I ‘d be stupid to leave this job because it pays about double of what any job I know out there would pay…i.e. Starbucks…etc.
Life/School/Work- I’m a curious person and I love to write. I am so happy to be getting my degree in journalism, it just feels right. But with such an important goal comes the sacrifice. I don’t have that extra time to be around my family. I can’t devote time with my fr…wait a minute I don’t have any of those. I think partly the reason I don’t have any of those is because I’m too busy to put much effort into it. On top of that people don’t like me…not in a bad poor me the world hates me kind of way just in the: oh there’s a guy over there…yeah cool, kind of way. I’m mostly unstickable yeah that would be the way I would put it. I might be able to have friends but I think I’d have to put 3,000% to the whole friendship thing…not that I’m not willing to but I don’t have time for that. So I go to school to chase my dreams of a better life but because I’m in school I don’t have time to live my life. I love my girlfriend but most people have more than one tangible friend playing important roles in their life. She has to be it all for me the one I compete with, the one I can confide to, the one I can look stupid in front of, the one I can cry to, and the one that talks to me…etc…..That’s the catch. I need to get talents to fulfill my dreams and hopefully align those dreams with my livelihood but I can’t even share any of those dreams with people that make living the dream worth while.
USA- They have this little tagline car commercial thing for our country??? “Live the American dream.” What they forget to tell you is if your middle class you can either live or dream…you really can’t do both.
And don’t give me that…”Were better off than most people/places” b.s…That’s such an Uncle Tom concept.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Nothing vol. 1
Not a bad night not a bad night…I hung out with the fam at illegal Pete’s this burrito joint on Yosemite and County Line. It’s in that upper-class suburbia part of town which I hate but nonetheless I enjoyed myself. I guess I’m a little buzzed right now and I can see it’s affecting my train of thought. So let’s make a list
I love The Beatles
I love my mom
My sister
My dad
My girlfriend
My niece
I love the game Soduku because I suck at it
I forgot my paper at illegal Pete’s and it had one of the better columns by Mike Littwin.
I love Mike Littwin’s columns in the Rocky Mountain News
It’s a strange concept. I love to write…So could I do what I love and support myself???
That would be nice. Just reading the words of someone you respect and thinking …hey that would be damn fun…but now but now I must go and enjoy the buzz.
Not a bad night not a bad night…I hung out with the fam at illegal Pete’s this burrito joint on Yosemite and County Line. It’s in that upper-class suburbia part of town which I hate but nonetheless I enjoyed myself. I guess I’m a little buzzed right now and I can see it’s affecting my train of thought. So let’s make a list
I love The Beatles
I love my mom
My sister
My dad
My girlfriend
My niece
I love the game Soduku because I suck at it
I forgot my paper at illegal Pete’s and it had one of the better columns by Mike Littwin.
I love Mike Littwin’s columns in the Rocky Mountain News
It’s a strange concept. I love to write…So could I do what I love and support myself???
That would be nice. Just reading the words of someone you respect and thinking …hey that would be damn fun…but now but now I must go and enjoy the buzz.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Finals of Finals
Today was the finals of the finals. All day my mind kept shifting into that 1980’s Breakfast Club nostalgic mood. There was a permanent repeat in my head for that song Don't You (Forget About Me) by the Simple Minds. Metro is an extremely antisocial campus and I really have yet to make a long lasting friend from going to school there (my girlfriend is the only exception)…and I don’t really know what’s up with that. What I do know is wah wah dry my eyes. I’m really not writing this to complain. I’m writing this more for observation. I’m really fascinated by people…no matter how hard I try I can’t help but instinctually love the human race. Don’t get me wrong this gushy feeling doesn’t mean I have this self righteous perspective in regard to my actions. I am far from perfect and I’m sure I’ve caused my share of other’s pain. Usually I can see my actions in full circle and attempt to reconcile what I’ve done wrong or have a big enough heart to forgive those who have done wrong against me (within reason.) As sing songy three chord pop as it sounds I just wish everybody could love one another. What’s really weird is for the first time in my life I don’t feel clingy toward people. It’s just enough to play my part, but along with these detached emotions it feels like I’m more capable of spontaneous acts of kindness. I used to have this weird fear of rejection…this bad self esteem disorder where certain things that might entail rejection would be avoided at all cost. It was really maladaptive. I felt uncanny charismatic this semester. It was really freakish…maybe I’m over thinking this because I have low expectations but I really did feel more mojo-ish. In my journalism class I spent a lot a time joking around with that Amy girl. In general I felt I had a good rapport with everyone in that class. Then in psychology this girl named Rachel just out of the blue sat next to me and became my buddy in that class. Usually I’m a loner in those big stadium classes like that, usually I’m a rebel. Then in Spanish I had a little clique of girls that I chilled with. They were beautiful sweet sweet women. Nothing essentially based on ulterior motives just a lot of really cool people I vibed with. As the chorus chimes through my mind, “Don’t you forget about me.”(meaning the point I’m writing this ((see above spontaneous acts of kindness.)) There are two really cool people I want to leave with kind actions. My psychology professor was the shit. On our final she asked a question: Which statement is true? Then she gave all these funny answers but the right one was…”Lana gave you a cookie today.” Which I knew had to be correct because she gave every last 50 some odd one of us a home baked cookie. She ruled. Another less forgiving question she asked was…who’s the author of your text book?…lol. I’ll paraphrase this Einstein quotation: It’s a wonder curiosity survives a formal education. My professor is an exception to this idea. She is almost a Dr. and she is the most curious fun funny professor I’ve ever had. She's up there with K. Pond. I really have been blessed with good professors in my life. Anywho, my grade for my class should be posted already so without the chance of being a sycophant I want to write an e-mail to Lana thanking her for ruling. Then there is Melissa the dark haired blue eyed girl I befriended in my Spanish class. She was just a cool person. I feel, I feel???? Kind toward her??? My gut says she should be around…I don’t know why. She is moving to L.A. (where I plan to go after my B.A. is done.) She is going to study eastern medicine. I can’t force people to stick around in my life but I can give her a call and exchange e-mail addresses…maybe give her a link my blogspot and just keep in touch. I think that would be supercool…god my brain is empty. I’m stupid, tired, stressed and as gay as it sounds….I wish I could give anyone who may be reading this a hug. I wonder if my girlfriend slipped Prozac in my coffee tonight.
Today was the finals of the finals. All day my mind kept shifting into that 1980’s Breakfast Club nostalgic mood. There was a permanent repeat in my head for that song Don't You (Forget About Me) by the Simple Minds. Metro is an extremely antisocial campus and I really have yet to make a long lasting friend from going to school there (my girlfriend is the only exception)…and I don’t really know what’s up with that. What I do know is wah wah dry my eyes. I’m really not writing this to complain. I’m writing this more for observation. I’m really fascinated by people…no matter how hard I try I can’t help but instinctually love the human race. Don’t get me wrong this gushy feeling doesn’t mean I have this self righteous perspective in regard to my actions. I am far from perfect and I’m sure I’ve caused my share of other’s pain. Usually I can see my actions in full circle and attempt to reconcile what I’ve done wrong or have a big enough heart to forgive those who have done wrong against me (within reason.) As sing songy three chord pop as it sounds I just wish everybody could love one another. What’s really weird is for the first time in my life I don’t feel clingy toward people. It’s just enough to play my part, but along with these detached emotions it feels like I’m more capable of spontaneous acts of kindness. I used to have this weird fear of rejection…this bad self esteem disorder where certain things that might entail rejection would be avoided at all cost. It was really maladaptive. I felt uncanny charismatic this semester. It was really freakish…maybe I’m over thinking this because I have low expectations but I really did feel more mojo-ish. In my journalism class I spent a lot a time joking around with that Amy girl. In general I felt I had a good rapport with everyone in that class. Then in psychology this girl named Rachel just out of the blue sat next to me and became my buddy in that class. Usually I’m a loner in those big stadium classes like that, usually I’m a rebel. Then in Spanish I had a little clique of girls that I chilled with. They were beautiful sweet sweet women. Nothing essentially based on ulterior motives just a lot of really cool people I vibed with. As the chorus chimes through my mind, “Don’t you forget about me.”(meaning the point I’m writing this ((see above spontaneous acts of kindness.)) There are two really cool people I want to leave with kind actions. My psychology professor was the shit. On our final she asked a question: Which statement is true? Then she gave all these funny answers but the right one was…”Lana gave you a cookie today.” Which I knew had to be correct because she gave every last 50 some odd one of us a home baked cookie. She ruled. Another less forgiving question she asked was…who’s the author of your text book?…lol. I’ll paraphrase this Einstein quotation: It’s a wonder curiosity survives a formal education. My professor is an exception to this idea. She is almost a Dr. and she is the most curious fun funny professor I’ve ever had. She's up there with K. Pond. I really have been blessed with good professors in my life. Anywho, my grade for my class should be posted already so without the chance of being a sycophant I want to write an e-mail to Lana thanking her for ruling. Then there is Melissa the dark haired blue eyed girl I befriended in my Spanish class. She was just a cool person. I feel, I feel???? Kind toward her??? My gut says she should be around…I don’t know why. She is moving to L.A. (where I plan to go after my B.A. is done.) She is going to study eastern medicine. I can’t force people to stick around in my life but I can give her a call and exchange e-mail addresses…maybe give her a link my blogspot and just keep in touch. I think that would be supercool…god my brain is empty. I’m stupid, tired, stressed and as gay as it sounds….I wish I could give anyone who may be reading this a hug. I wonder if my girlfriend slipped Prozac in my coffee tonight.
George Carlin
I got a gift last Christmas at work. It’s this George Carlin joke thing. One of those things where you tear off the day and each one has a joke, a thought, or a diatribe by the veteran comedian. Today’s was specially beautiful so I thought I’d share.
“I think everyone should treat one another in a Christian manner. I will not however be responsible for the consequences.”
I got a gift last Christmas at work. It’s this George Carlin joke thing. One of those things where you tear off the day and each one has a joke, a thought, or a diatribe by the veteran comedian. Today’s was specially beautiful so I thought I’d share.
“I think everyone should treat one another in a Christian manner. I will not however be responsible for the consequences.”
Finals
My body moves lethargic
My mind heavy star dense
I’m a clumsy spectacle
Meaningless chaotically shifting in a kaleidoscope of thoughts
Its fun to watch
And nothing more
My body moves lethargic
My mind heavy star dense
I’m a clumsy spectacle
Meaningless chaotically shifting in a kaleidoscope of thoughts
Its fun to watch
And nothing more
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Anticlimatic
I took a voice class at Swallowed Hill and this woman named Christy was my teacher. She was raised in N.Y. so she had his accent and rough tough personality about her. She would always talk about the big city culture. She would always say that in N.Y. people always spoke what was on their mind. There wasn’t any of this friendly facade crap like we do her in Colorado. She said in the Big Apple people said it how it was. They got mad at each other and than 30 seconds later they would be buying each other lunch. When she first moved to Denver she thought everyone was so nice. What she soon learned was that people were more judgment and valued superficialities. She said in NY if someone didn’t like you, they wouldn’t talk to you. When she first started going to church here she thought everyone loved her because they all said hi. She found out that most those people despised her but said hi out of a petty gesture. God her vision of the world sounds like some fantasy land. Especially after the climatic battle I had with my manager yesterday. Today was the ultimate of anticlimactic experiences. Of course today everything went status quo business as usual…and I was over it, but my boss? His confusion of what to do to me still consumes him. It’s like he doesn’t know how to act. I guess I can weave it into my own fabricated compliment because somewhere in the Tao Te Ching it says, “The master’s mind is like space People don’t understand her.” My managers pin these signs on my head and don’t really have a clue of who I am. So I take their advice and roll with the coping device of arrogance cloaked like a dagger as I prove I can play the part they want from me. Once again I see that I can adapt to my superior’s teachings but now I see how inflexible how rigid they are. All change in life is met at the doorstep with resistance. I see the biggest impediments of my door to change are not me this time but the very people who asked me to change. Yesterday’s argument is not over, like all events that happen in my office this is a slow gradual boil that I know will explode again in another manager overreaction directed toward me. I wish I could deprive my lungs of oxygen waiting for the clandestine event but I’m sure there’s something in the company policy against that. It’s so sad because I know things can be so much better…but all I can do now is ride the tumultuous cubicle waves and dream of the Big Apple.
I took a voice class at Swallowed Hill and this woman named Christy was my teacher. She was raised in N.Y. so she had his accent and rough tough personality about her. She would always talk about the big city culture. She would always say that in N.Y. people always spoke what was on their mind. There wasn’t any of this friendly facade crap like we do her in Colorado. She said in the Big Apple people said it how it was. They got mad at each other and than 30 seconds later they would be buying each other lunch. When she first moved to Denver she thought everyone was so nice. What she soon learned was that people were more judgment and valued superficialities. She said in NY if someone didn’t like you, they wouldn’t talk to you. When she first started going to church here she thought everyone loved her because they all said hi. She found out that most those people despised her but said hi out of a petty gesture. God her vision of the world sounds like some fantasy land. Especially after the climatic battle I had with my manager yesterday. Today was the ultimate of anticlimactic experiences. Of course today everything went status quo business as usual…and I was over it, but my boss? His confusion of what to do to me still consumes him. It’s like he doesn’t know how to act. I guess I can weave it into my own fabricated compliment because somewhere in the Tao Te Ching it says, “The master’s mind is like space People don’t understand her.” My managers pin these signs on my head and don’t really have a clue of who I am. So I take their advice and roll with the coping device of arrogance cloaked like a dagger as I prove I can play the part they want from me. Once again I see that I can adapt to my superior’s teachings but now I see how inflexible how rigid they are. All change in life is met at the doorstep with resistance. I see the biggest impediments of my door to change are not me this time but the very people who asked me to change. Yesterday’s argument is not over, like all events that happen in my office this is a slow gradual boil that I know will explode again in another manager overreaction directed toward me. I wish I could deprive my lungs of oxygen waiting for the clandestine event but I’m sure there’s something in the company policy against that. It’s so sad because I know things can be so much better…but all I can do now is ride the tumultuous cubicle waves and dream of the Big Apple.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Stream of Poop 4 –this is filled with mistakes but I had to get it out.
I used to read this girl’s blog. I got hooked an all her sexual escapades that I could envision and pretend to live myself. I was a parasite vicariously sucking on the nectar of her words. But as my reading continued…I got more skeptical to the point of becoming cynical. Questions filled my mind…Should I believe these words. Her life seemed to play out like some 90210 soap opera…which in reality was a guilty pleasure of mine as a kid. So there I was in her fly tar trap reading consuming imagining and be taken away by the plot. It became that a plot because somehow I convinced myself it wasn’t true. By keeping a written record of my life I can see for myself how life is this imaginary unfolding story. A plot spinning chaotically with instances of foreshadows and convince. Today I was 30 minutes late to work. There was an accident on I-70 that stopped my forward process to the grind. I get to the parking lot and I see my boss’ car nowhere in sight. I breathe a sigh of relief as I run to escape the clutches of the Buddha. Just them my boss pulls up …Fuck. I figured I could beat him to the doors and try to make our greeting as indiscrete as possible. To my dismay the doors want unlock with the use of my badge. I walks up says, “You’re late.” Then tries to open the doors with his badge and is unsuccessful. Then he replies; “now you have a reason.” I then had to walk the long way around the building side by side with my boss after guilty of being 30 minutes late. Of course I’m feeling exhausted considering the 4 hours of broken up sleep I got last night. I blame my biorhythms for this mishap. I read an Alan Watts passage where he was talking about the injustice of how we don’t set ourselves to our natural biorhythms instead we adjust yourself to the artificial concept of time…He’s my favorite writer of all time. So last night I have the gall to ask Seren if he’s ready to defend his claim in this capitalistic society. That’s just my stupid way of asking are you willing to play the game. I personally don’t see and alternative. I read once in the book of Buddha only to take on the beggar’s life if you were utmost ready for the rigorous discipline. I weird but I’m not that weird. I want food on the table and a roof over my head. If that means I need to get invited to the board room and have my job threatened the very next day I write a blog about not backing down in the apprentice board room so be it. Can anyone guess what happened???? About an hour and 15 minutes before I had to leave my boss assigned a near impossible task on me and the shit hit the fan. He gave this lady with the IQ of a chia pet a tedious but critical assignment of Mexico Taxes. This woman doesn’t know her computer from a paper weight and she didn’t have most of the daunting task completed. Having her help me accomplish the goal would be worse than me doing it by myself because she would slow me down. Then my manager tells me this has to be completed tomorrow!!! I started sweating a little because I have finals this week and all. I started going over to the women and canvassing all she had done for it realizing it wasn’t very much…I forced myself to go to my manager and explain the dilemma.
I went to my manger and asked, “When does this need to be done.”
He gave his corporate glare and said, “Tomorrow before you leave.”
I replied, “That’s impossible.”
He said, “Then you’ll have to stay late.”
I knew I had to inform him about my school obligations.
I whimpered, “But I didn’t know this was my responsibility and I have finals this week.”
His face exploded red as he growled, “Just leave!!!”
I very fastly walked toward my cube and calmed myself by saying, “Forget it I know I can get this done. I need to prioritize.”
He’s response was, “Let’s go the back room.”
On my walk back I psyched myself knowing I had to do battle.
He started tearing in on my by saying he has already warned me about my disrespectful behavior and that he didn’t care that I didn’t have respect for him but that he was tired of my perpetual disrespect.
To which I started to defend myself by saying with all do respect I wasn’t being disrespectful.
He butted in by saying I’m lucky because he’s on my side now but if I don’t shut up it would be bad for me.
So of course I calmly defended myself against his attacks my saying I didn’t know what he was talking about.
He considered my comments of “I didn’t think that it was my responsibility” was utmost disrespectful and intolerable that I couldn’t contain my temper, anger, frustration whatever I wanted to call it.
Then the scary thing started to perpetrate. He said he heard me as I walked back to my cube whisper, “No matter what I do it’s never good enough for this place.” ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
He’s words hit me like a bucket of cold ice. This was turning into an utter witch hunt. I was confused and flabbergasted. I didn’t say that and I had no clue why he was fabricating such allegations.
I asked him, “What are you talking about.”
He said, “Unless I’m on something I hear you say those words of complete disrespect.”
He rebuttled, “I didn’t day that.” I confessed, “I didn’t say that.”
He probed me saying he didn’t just hear things and I realized. Maybe he’s not lying maybe he lost it so bad he really imagined that happening. I was scared shitless but I was doing everything in my power to not show fear and be strong.
Under more of his allegations of blaming me for those fictitious words…for one millisecond I thought I was going to collapse under the weight of the moment.
It would have been easier for a dolphin like me to say, “Sorry, Sorry let’s stop fighting what I can do to make this better.” The dolphin that hates confrontation and can’t stand to see anyone uncomfortable. It’s easier for dolphins to take the blame for the panthers because it the dolphins that try to blanket the world and nurture it. I could see in that one moment how good people get exploited. The thought clicked in my head…Fuck that! I need to stand up for my innocents and make him feel like the ass he is being…and I need to be smart and tactful about it.
He then called my assistant manager in the room because I wouldn’t budge into admitting his hallucination was real.
She came into the closet and and took my said…not because of another reason that because I was right. He asked her if she heard what I mumbled as I walked back to my cube. She said she heard me say…”That I need to prioritize.”
My manager threatened to write me up and I said I disagree with that action because I wasn’t being disrespectful.
He said he didn’t care that I couldn’t control my temper and he’s talked to me in private for numerous occasions about my attitude.
I said we haven’t talked about my behavior for numerous occasions.
Then he turned to my assistant manager and said, “Oh just because Nick and I have conversations in private it means they never happened.”
I said no!!! That’s not the case. I said that I agree the time I got upset about the furlough speech was disrespectful and that it could have been handled more tactfully by myself and I fully admit that, but that this situation today was done because of my stress for the final but it wasn’t done with temperament and it wasn’t handled disrespectfully. So I can’t take fault for what’s transpiring now because the situations aren’t congruent.
My assistant manager kept chiming in that she had to agree with me. My manager lost the battle although he felt he keep control by telling me I need to keep my mouth shut.
I did so knowing inside that I had nothing to fear and that the most tactful way to approach this was to let him believe he has maintained authority for his extremely unprofessional and temperamental behavior that in all essence could get him fired. Although, he threatened to fire me with insubordination if I didn’t go to school tonight.
I left the closet and he and my assistant manager talked about things. I shook off the occurrences as best as I could and went on my way saying goodbye to everyone as I left.
Yes, I didn’t say those fabricated remarks but I realize that that only reason my assistant manager could take her stance and stand up for me was not only because I was right but because I wasn’t scared to stand up fro myself.
I felt like I aced that boardroom meeting apprentice style. The sick thing about it was it was good for me to see I have it in me to do what it takes to survive. I have respect for my boss. I don’t know how it’s gotten into his head I don’t. It’s damn scary that he could make shit up and not back down when he’s wrong.
I may be fired tomorrow for nothing more than being an employee who wants what’s best for the company and help on its race to profitability…but I will be a better stronger person.
So I go to school and see Amanda some girl that I knew back in the day.
Let’s just say I lost the card to her fan club membership long ago. I tried to be nice and give her a hug by she wasn’t standoffish and reeked of smoke. I sort of said ehhhhh. She looked at me and I said, “Ehhh final’s week is kicking my butt.” I don’t thing she bought it but I walked into the building blowing off the confrontation.
Then I went into the coffee shop where I was supposed to meet my group and saw girl named Bridgett that I haven’t seen for almost exactly a year now. I just talked about her yesterday to my girlfriend. Synchronicity abounds. One good thing was my wit was impeccable as I studied with the dark haired blue eyed girl Melissa from my Spanish class.
Life is crazy synchronicity abounds. There’s a Ted Green story I must tell at a later time. Also Arnold lived up to his Terminator nickname today.
I went on the web and but nick d in tha house as a google search. I had to know if my manager could secretly read my blogs. My blogspot page did not come up thank god…but my time capsule of a webpage…did….I was 22 when I last updated it. Here’s the link enjoy…it’s weird to see I still make jokes now that I did then…yet I feel like a completely different person. Enough for tonight.
I used to read this girl’s blog. I got hooked an all her sexual escapades that I could envision and pretend to live myself. I was a parasite vicariously sucking on the nectar of her words. But as my reading continued…I got more skeptical to the point of becoming cynical. Questions filled my mind…Should I believe these words. Her life seemed to play out like some 90210 soap opera…which in reality was a guilty pleasure of mine as a kid. So there I was in her fly tar trap reading consuming imagining and be taken away by the plot. It became that a plot because somehow I convinced myself it wasn’t true. By keeping a written record of my life I can see for myself how life is this imaginary unfolding story. A plot spinning chaotically with instances of foreshadows and convince. Today I was 30 minutes late to work. There was an accident on I-70 that stopped my forward process to the grind. I get to the parking lot and I see my boss’ car nowhere in sight. I breathe a sigh of relief as I run to escape the clutches of the Buddha. Just them my boss pulls up …Fuck. I figured I could beat him to the doors and try to make our greeting as indiscrete as possible. To my dismay the doors want unlock with the use of my badge. I walks up says, “You’re late.” Then tries to open the doors with his badge and is unsuccessful. Then he replies; “now you have a reason.” I then had to walk the long way around the building side by side with my boss after guilty of being 30 minutes late. Of course I’m feeling exhausted considering the 4 hours of broken up sleep I got last night. I blame my biorhythms for this mishap. I read an Alan Watts passage where he was talking about the injustice of how we don’t set ourselves to our natural biorhythms instead we adjust yourself to the artificial concept of time…He’s my favorite writer of all time. So last night I have the gall to ask Seren if he’s ready to defend his claim in this capitalistic society. That’s just my stupid way of asking are you willing to play the game. I personally don’t see and alternative. I read once in the book of Buddha only to take on the beggar’s life if you were utmost ready for the rigorous discipline. I weird but I’m not that weird. I want food on the table and a roof over my head. If that means I need to get invited to the board room and have my job threatened the very next day I write a blog about not backing down in the apprentice board room so be it. Can anyone guess what happened???? About an hour and 15 minutes before I had to leave my boss assigned a near impossible task on me and the shit hit the fan. He gave this lady with the IQ of a chia pet a tedious but critical assignment of Mexico Taxes. This woman doesn’t know her computer from a paper weight and she didn’t have most of the daunting task completed. Having her help me accomplish the goal would be worse than me doing it by myself because she would slow me down. Then my manager tells me this has to be completed tomorrow!!! I started sweating a little because I have finals this week and all. I started going over to the women and canvassing all she had done for it realizing it wasn’t very much…I forced myself to go to my manager and explain the dilemma.
I went to my manger and asked, “When does this need to be done.”
He gave his corporate glare and said, “Tomorrow before you leave.”
I replied, “That’s impossible.”
He said, “Then you’ll have to stay late.”
I knew I had to inform him about my school obligations.
I whimpered, “But I didn’t know this was my responsibility and I have finals this week.”
His face exploded red as he growled, “Just leave!!!”
I very fastly walked toward my cube and calmed myself by saying, “Forget it I know I can get this done. I need to prioritize.”
He’s response was, “Let’s go the back room.”
On my walk back I psyched myself knowing I had to do battle.
He started tearing in on my by saying he has already warned me about my disrespectful behavior and that he didn’t care that I didn’t have respect for him but that he was tired of my perpetual disrespect.
To which I started to defend myself by saying with all do respect I wasn’t being disrespectful.
He butted in by saying I’m lucky because he’s on my side now but if I don’t shut up it would be bad for me.
So of course I calmly defended myself against his attacks my saying I didn’t know what he was talking about.
He considered my comments of “I didn’t think that it was my responsibility” was utmost disrespectful and intolerable that I couldn’t contain my temper, anger, frustration whatever I wanted to call it.
Then the scary thing started to perpetrate. He said he heard me as I walked back to my cube whisper, “No matter what I do it’s never good enough for this place.” ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
He’s words hit me like a bucket of cold ice. This was turning into an utter witch hunt. I was confused and flabbergasted. I didn’t say that and I had no clue why he was fabricating such allegations.
I asked him, “What are you talking about.”
He said, “Unless I’m on something I hear you say those words of complete disrespect.”
He rebuttled, “I didn’t day that.” I confessed, “I didn’t say that.”
He probed me saying he didn’t just hear things and I realized. Maybe he’s not lying maybe he lost it so bad he really imagined that happening. I was scared shitless but I was doing everything in my power to not show fear and be strong.
Under more of his allegations of blaming me for those fictitious words…for one millisecond I thought I was going to collapse under the weight of the moment.
It would have been easier for a dolphin like me to say, “Sorry, Sorry let’s stop fighting what I can do to make this better.” The dolphin that hates confrontation and can’t stand to see anyone uncomfortable. It’s easier for dolphins to take the blame for the panthers because it the dolphins that try to blanket the world and nurture it. I could see in that one moment how good people get exploited. The thought clicked in my head…Fuck that! I need to stand up for my innocents and make him feel like the ass he is being…and I need to be smart and tactful about it.
He then called my assistant manager in the room because I wouldn’t budge into admitting his hallucination was real.
She came into the closet and and took my said…not because of another reason that because I was right. He asked her if she heard what I mumbled as I walked back to my cube. She said she heard me say…”That I need to prioritize.”
My manager threatened to write me up and I said I disagree with that action because I wasn’t being disrespectful.
He said he didn’t care that I couldn’t control my temper and he’s talked to me in private for numerous occasions about my attitude.
I said we haven’t talked about my behavior for numerous occasions.
Then he turned to my assistant manager and said, “Oh just because Nick and I have conversations in private it means they never happened.”
I said no!!! That’s not the case. I said that I agree the time I got upset about the furlough speech was disrespectful and that it could have been handled more tactfully by myself and I fully admit that, but that this situation today was done because of my stress for the final but it wasn’t done with temperament and it wasn’t handled disrespectfully. So I can’t take fault for what’s transpiring now because the situations aren’t congruent.
My assistant manager kept chiming in that she had to agree with me. My manager lost the battle although he felt he keep control by telling me I need to keep my mouth shut.
I did so knowing inside that I had nothing to fear and that the most tactful way to approach this was to let him believe he has maintained authority for his extremely unprofessional and temperamental behavior that in all essence could get him fired. Although, he threatened to fire me with insubordination if I didn’t go to school tonight.
I left the closet and he and my assistant manager talked about things. I shook off the occurrences as best as I could and went on my way saying goodbye to everyone as I left.
Yes, I didn’t say those fabricated remarks but I realize that that only reason my assistant manager could take her stance and stand up for me was not only because I was right but because I wasn’t scared to stand up fro myself.
I felt like I aced that boardroom meeting apprentice style. The sick thing about it was it was good for me to see I have it in me to do what it takes to survive. I have respect for my boss. I don’t know how it’s gotten into his head I don’t. It’s damn scary that he could make shit up and not back down when he’s wrong.
I may be fired tomorrow for nothing more than being an employee who wants what’s best for the company and help on its race to profitability…but I will be a better stronger person.
So I go to school and see Amanda some girl that I knew back in the day.
Let’s just say I lost the card to her fan club membership long ago. I tried to be nice and give her a hug by she wasn’t standoffish and reeked of smoke. I sort of said ehhhhh. She looked at me and I said, “Ehhh final’s week is kicking my butt.” I don’t thing she bought it but I walked into the building blowing off the confrontation.
Then I went into the coffee shop where I was supposed to meet my group and saw girl named Bridgett that I haven’t seen for almost exactly a year now. I just talked about her yesterday to my girlfriend. Synchronicity abounds. One good thing was my wit was impeccable as I studied with the dark haired blue eyed girl Melissa from my Spanish class.
Life is crazy synchronicity abounds. There’s a Ted Green story I must tell at a later time. Also Arnold lived up to his Terminator nickname today.
I went on the web and but nick d in tha house as a google search. I had to know if my manager could secretly read my blogs. My blogspot page did not come up thank god…but my time capsule of a webpage…did….I was 22 when I last updated it. Here’s the link enjoy…it’s weird to see I still make jokes now that I did then…yet I feel like a completely different person. Enough for tonight.
Seren
My reply to Seren was as long as a blog so I thought I’d link it here.
What would be so compelling to catalyze my verbose reply? It was Seren’s beautiful personal accounts comprised with amazing writings…of course.
My reply to Seren was as long as a blog so I thought I’d link it here.
What would be so compelling to catalyze my verbose reply? It was Seren’s beautiful personal accounts comprised with amazing writings…of course.
Sunday, December 11, 2005
It’s like a warm kiss to the ear subtle, soft and stimulating enough to encapsulate your entire attention. I’ve came across so many musicians that stand far on the extremes of musical sacrilege. I’ve met the Punx that believe learning and growing in your art is taboo and they consider it selling out to “the man.” I’ve seen the stereotypical metal kids that learn all this killer technique on their instrument but their music is more akin to paying to watch someone type really fast as compared to express themselves. By listening to Johnny Smith’s Moonlight in Vermont I finally understood the tired cliché of “speaking through your music.” Never in my life has music sounded so much like spoken word or the instrument an extension of the human as when I heard Smith’s version of My Funny Valentine. My hope is that genres wouldn’t confine people’s soul in terms of expression. Why hinder your growth as a musician because a group frowns upon it? Why indulge in music for nothing more than showmanship at the expense of the intimacy that comes with learning an instrument? Jazz supplies this lush landscape somewhere beyond the extremes of raw emotions to perfected technique. In order for a person to be a jazz musician, as such, he has to battle as the demons of performance and knowledge until they surrender as servants standing by his side. The visceral sonic palette of such artists enables them to evoke any emotion they decide to tug. Moonlight in Vermont is that dryer-warmed blanket against your skin. It’s that conjured up red wine buzz where the mind seems to absorb everything that stimulates it and brings ones consciousness to the moment of now…Why am I lingering like this? Am I not playing favorites to the extremes I want to deviate from by verbally masturbating about how beautiful this music is? Just listen to the damn CD!!!!
