(fabric)Softening of the Mind

Sense memory moments sneak up on you, unless you’re an actor who uses the technique.  For me, it’s usually a smell that takes me back and, one that’s been hitting me of late is fabric softener sheets.  To be honest, I truly cannot tell the brands or fragrances apart, but when I get a whiff of one, Sherman sets the Wayback Machine for my childhood.

As a small one, I would go to my friends houses to play.  Given the geographic local and demographics of me and my friends, the play areas for us was either outside or in the basement and in the basement somewhere was the “laundry room.” So now, when the aroma wafts over me, I am transported back to my youth, in a cave playing games/slaying dragons/exploring space…and I can faintly hear the roll of the die/the clicking of the D-pad and buttons, and the smell of soda pop.

 And it makes me smile.

Clockwatcher

I spent the day as one today, and I’m sure it will not be my last.  It does not really physically take anything away from the day(as far as productivity goes), but it is a painfully crisp reminder that I’m not where I am desiring to be.  When recognised, it is a good motivation to move towards something at least resembling the ideal.

What?

I’m hip to freedom of speech.  It is a very good thing.  But there are times when, even-though they’ve the right to say or write what they wish, you happen upon a statement that simply blows you away.  The magnitude of ignorance and/or hatred is so staggering that the only response that you have is:

“Really?”

Words do have power.  Power to effect change, power to keep people in the dark, and sometimes the power to make you wonder what will become of us if we do not stop using them in the wrong way.

On The Road

A fun experiment:

When driving, just for a while turn off the radio/CD/whatever, roll down the window, and listen.  It’s better if you’re on surface streets for this, the freeway has a bit too much wind rush, but listen.

Can you hear it?  The frustration, the anger, the hate and the rage?  Listen.  Hear the revving of the engine, grinding gears, screeching tires, hard braking, impatient creeping at the light.  Gotta go, get out of the way, every stinking light, what going on, Arraggh!  Our cars are screaming, our more important than you personalities extended through the machine.

 Just listen.  You’ll be sad a bit, and fearful to share the streets with those angry human-auto hybrids.  But maybe, just maybe, you’ll cease to be one of them…at least for a while.

…pressure

To perform, to be the first/greatest/most memorable.  To get whatever is deemed important by society/employer/ego and to get it now.  What are the results?

Eating Disorders; Substance Abuse; Reality Television; Oppression; War(in all its forms)…

…and four dead in Phoenix.

 The last simply buckling to the pressure to get the story/angle/scoop on a car chase.

The sad part is, that the pressure for ratings caused that one.

I’d like to hope that we as a community will some day rise above the need for sensationalist hyper achievement, but to reach that goal we may need to apply a bit of…

The Greatest Thing Since Sliced Bread

It’s a fairly common expression.  Yet if one thinks about it too much(as I of course do about many topics), some interesting thought trains leave the station.

Bread, both the food and the musical group is fantastic(sorry carb haters and certain music snobs), but I’ll focus for now on the food.  In my imagination I’ve a little fantasy of what may have been the first mad scientist of early mankind.  Picture some outcast, firm in his or her desire to grind wheat into flour(and how even that idea came about), adding eggs, water, milk?  Yeast of all things(the madness)!!!  Letting it rise, kneading, the oven(fire) and later consuming this…thing?  The horror!  But the result was glorious, became accepted, adapted and improved upon(bananna…mmm) and evolved(cakes of all sorts).

Then, one day long ago(for some, still close for others), arose one who thought that tearing appart one’s bread was barbarism, and refused to take the time to find a knife, gague the proportion and cut the desired piece.  “How could it be,” the process began, “that a loaf is upon purchase, precut?”  So began the quest, and has become an enormous process by which the regular person is saved(a vague guess) about 10 to 30 seconds of labour.

I’m over simplifying(not to mention letting the mind add flourishes), but the advancement of bread technology was born of a want for convenience, as are many leaps forward in our daily bread.

Innovations, like all things have both positive and negative aspects, and for every step forward I sometimes wonder how many steps as a whole we lose.  I know I’d be hard pressed to make a loaf from scratch if need be(or to remember important phone numbers if I ever lost my cell phone).

We all stand on the shoulders of those who come before us(to badly paraphrase another saying), but at times it’s good to remember what is, or may be forgotten as life becomes more simply complex, due to the next big thing.

…(day)Dream On

There are those moments throughout the day when the mind wanders to realms of possibility.  Of late, mine arrive on the journey to and from the wage job.  The upside is that it’s a decent amount of time for the formulation of an idea, but it does draw the foucs from the task at hand(commuting).  It’s almost a zen lesson that I fail to learn:  The mind is elsewhere, when it should be in the present moment.  It’s risky to let myself indulge these distractions, and yet I do it again and again.  The here and now, I ignore it for the maybe/might/never will be.  Dangerous in every aspect.  Yet I continue to…

Yakity Yakity

How much of the time do we really spend listening, and how much of the time(while the other person is still making thier point/statement) do we spend getting our brilliant retort ready to pounce?  I’m as guilty as the next, and I’d say it’s at best half.  And in a heated situation or even worse, a political discussion, it’s hardly even the first ten percent.

“If we would just listen to what the other has to say.”

 It seems so trite, but more and more I’ve come to see the truth in that statement.  It seems so simple, but I know it’s much more difficult to do it as opposed to saying it.

 I’m sorry, what were you takling about?

Comfort Zone

A true enigma, something both sought after and yet needed to be away from from time to time to expand both understanding and horizons.  Quite difficult to seek pleasure and then need to leave it to see what else is around.  We are told that to be too comfortable is wrong, and indeed it can be.  The hard part is to recognize that and when we need to grow, and that the time has come to leave ours.

…30 Pieces of Silver

Some of our greatest struggles are the result of an act of, or a sense of betrayal.  But I wonder which is the worst: Betraying another, or the self?

The (seemingly)obvious scenario is a combination of the two, and yet I think that this path might be less severe as, at least to my mind, when observing the effect on the one left out to dry, the offeneder may at least regret and open the possibility of correcting the problem(or minimizing the damage).

I am of the opinion that the greatest betrayal occurrs to the self, and over time.  It’s difficult to see, subtly disguised over the days/months/years, but it is there.  Hidden in compromises/negotiations/for the experience situations.  Then eventually, looking around, you neither recognize where or who you are.  It may even be too difficult to remember where you wanted to be in the first place, and no matter how you chalk it up once you recognize it,  you’re faced with a new and more terrifying situation:

Continue to betray what you are, or betray what you’ve become.  Disheartening to continue on, traumatic to take a stand and make a change either back to what you were or in a new direction.

From an outside perspective, an exciting story exists in these situations but then, at times you begin to question where you got your…

Nothing Special

This was an ordinary day.  It’s been a long time since I’ve had one and I must say, they kind of scare me.  The strange thing is, that I found that I like ordinary.  It can be, and often is, extraordinary.

Yes… I like it very much.

Spoiler Alert!

J.K. Rowling is, at this very moment, rolling around in a pile of cash.

I would be too.  And though I envy her success, I’m glad that the series exists.  I geek out over other things, but I enjoy a good story and so far the series has proved to be such.  People of differing opinions and priorities will knock the die-hards and question their fashion sense and purpose in life, but I will not because everyone has something they go ga-ga for.

The one thing about the Harry Potter phenomenon that I’m most happy about is that it motivated so many people to read.  I cannot think about any book or sreies of books released in my lifetime that has reached out and brought the joy of reading to so many different groups and ages of people.  Simply amazing.  I just like to think I might create something that someone else might want to see/read/whatever, I can’t wrap my head around the ability to touch that many.

 …and to roll around in so much cash.

Making Scents of it All

I’m not a fan of perfume/par-fume/toilet water(why, oh why name it that?)/other scented products.  Even flavors of deodorant.  To be fair, I did have a thing for the Old Spice waaaayyyy back in the day, but that was conditioning that eventually was broken.  Don’t misunderstand, I am not enchanted by the eu de unwashed masses either.  I am just at a loss as to why the multi-billion dollar scent industry prospers.

No, that’s not right, I’m curious as to why we tend to slather ourselves in the fragrance of our choosing.   Personally, with normal bathing habits, I’m a fan of nothing, but if you must, just a hint will do.  There’s no need to be the dude who jumps into the vat of Drakar or the gal that has more stripper perfume on then say, a stripper.

Subtle is the key, a slight essence that slightly lingers.  That’s what hooks(me).

The Human Condition

The need for “bathroom reading” has confounded me for most of my life.  Put simply, I just don’t get it.  Why spend more time outside of what is needed in that position?  A magazine, a paper, a book?  What kind of escape could possibly be offered in that place?  Is it a need to be distracted from the task at hand?  That can’t be productive.  I do not know about the rest of the world, but when I’m feeling motivated, I prefer to focus on the task at hand.  Get it done right, as completely as possible, and be done with it.  Why do it half assed(so to speak)?

A crass subject to be certain, yet every now and then it vexes me to the point where I feel the need to discuss/ponder the situation.

Embrace The New.

A door is opened, a path discovered.  The first step is cautious, hesitant while the back foot remains grounded, perhaps ready to flee.  You look around, and begin to doubt if you belong here, or anywhere for that matter.

Take a deep breath, and the next step.  See what happens.

Today, I became a man.

An old man, robbed of the youthful bounce in my step.  It happened in this way:

I wakled to the mailbox to get the mail.  I opened the mailbox to retrieve the mail.  My back went out.

I am currently moving very slowly, in an extreemly limited range, and a level of  discomfort that enters the realm of pain a bit too often for my taste. 

How?  Why?  I’m too this and definetly not too that.  I’m still very much this and in no way close to that. 

 When I am better, I’ll be setting up camp in a famous Egyptian river.

And yes, the blow to my pride hurts just as bad.

We Have No Idea.

What does it take?  To do X?  To be X?  To achieve X?

Self help, business strategies, action plans, get rich quick, find happiness, be thin, be attrative, find true love, find Atlantis/Eden/Utopia, the meaning of life.

Billions of dollars on speculation in all realms(so many sections available at the stores).

I’ve spent my share of time and money, and will more than likely continue to do so from time to time.  Yet the true(?) answer seems to be that nobody knows for sure.

My question is:

If you really knew the answer: Would you share it, and with whom, and for how much?

I’ve been thinking long and hard about it off and on for some time, and still that answer eludes me.

…it’s a terrible feeling.

There are times you want time travel to be real.  A moment you want back because, no matter what the reason, you screwed up and catastrophy followed.  Even more frustraing is, when these glitches mess with the smoothness of things, that the hiccup that tossed the wrench in the gears was due to a well intentioned but incompletely thought out word or deed. 

One of these moments is more than enough.  I know I’ve had my share(possibly less or more than), and every time the f.up gremlin bites me I wish not only to go back and fix/change/not do it, but to never ever screw up ever again.  It’s an absurd wish.  I know neither can be fulfilled(can’t ever go back, garuanteed to err again), but when you hurt and/or disappoint someone…

A Big Fan.

It was(to the best of my recollection) about two and a half feet square and maybe(I’m guessing) seven to ten inches deep.  Metal unknown, a seventy’s chocolate brown with(possibly) white protective grids on both front and back.  It was a sign of summer, though I barely knew it at the time.  Three speeds(high, medium and low), each of which made my oohhwwaaahhhheeeee sound delightfully funny, and about three to four feet of cord to plug into the wall.  On hot summer nights, all through the night, it would run(usually on the low setting unless it was really hot) humming in the darkness.

It’s current successor is a much, much smaller all black with only a high and low speed mostly plastic and much more safe and energy efficient(I’m guessing) model that I’ve yet to see how it modulates the voice.  Yet in the hot darkness of a summer night, when I hear it thrumming along, I’m four and haven’t a care in the world.  And the sheets seem just a bit cooler.

Will It Be Lucky For Me?

So far…absolutely.  How it effects future events is yet to be seen.

Couldn’t Resist…

You’re a Dragon!

Noble, regal, and highly misunderstood, you’re a bit of a loner at heart. You like caves, the sky, and other vast expanses of air where you can blow off steam. You and people like you got a lot more respect in the old days, but now your type only shows up in songs about young children. They’re the only people who really believe in your potential. As long as you believe in yourself, and don’t breathe directly at anyone, you’ll be okay. You have a strange liking for string and sealing-wax.

Take the Animal Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

I’m A Classic!

Found this nifty quiz at my friend’s blog so I thought, “Hmmm… if I were a book, what would I be?”

 And the answer: 

You’re Ulysses!by James Joyce

Most people are convinced that you don’t make any sense, but compared to what else you could say, what you’re saying now makes tons of sense. What people do understand about you is your vulgarity, which has convinced people that you are at once brilliant and repugnant. Meanwhile you are content to wander around aimlessly, taking in the sights and sounds of the city. What you see is vast, almost limitless, and brings you additional fame. When no one is looking, you dream of being a Greek folk hero.
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Would you like your change?

It’s good, though sometimes it is very, very scary.  It “makes us better/helps us grow/puts hair on our chest(wanted or not).”  It is unavoidable…it is our destiny…and definitely, necessary.  I think I’m ready for it(hopefully it’s positive), but it must happen.

 No(if someone happens upon this), I can’t vague this up anymore…sorry, this post’s for me.

Ego & Ethics

Both are very personal.  Both must be compromised/bargained with to achieve certain things which are desired.  The trick is, what is thought to be okay, is fluid.  Very fluid.  As we learn and grow, the inconceivables change.  That which was unacceptable, morphs into what might be permissible, creating the possibilities for so many conflicts:

Ego v. Ego

Ego v. Ethics

Ethics v. Ethics

(and, for those who long for reverse redundancy)Ethics v. Ego

 

Not that I have any enlightened statements for this…it’s just on my mind today.

A Fragile Ecosystem

Yet another day of learning new things.  Today, an article in Scientific American really struck me.  It was an interview with Alan Weisman, who’s new book projects what could very well happen if we all were just gone(nothing doomsdayish, simply just removal of the human element).  Three of these “future” events amazed me.

 1. Most of our power facilities have automatic shut downs if no-body’s around.  No power and things start going bad.  Very quickly.

2. If all polluting stopped right now, it would take 100,000 years to get back to preindustrial carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere.

3. Bronze.  If you must be immortalized, and if you have the means, I highly recommend it.

What I Learned Today:

1. In the U.K., Mr. Clean is known as Flash(not the superhero).

2. Someone actually timed how long Janet Jackon’s nipple spent on the air(1.01 seconds, and I wonder how long it took to figure that out).

3. In 1694, Lord Admiral Edward Russell may have thrown the most amazing party…ever…seriously.

Thanks to mental_floss magazine for a fun day of filling my head with facts and ideas that I may never be able to use.

Live, damn you! LIIiiivvvve!!!

The patient is flat lining, the wounds are severe yet the doctor is confident that he possesses the skill to save(or at least patch up and help to limp along).

“Hand me the all day music concert defibrillator, STAT!”

Sometimes, having your heart in the right place just isn’t enough.

I’m Jealous of the Fish Girl

Some time ago, at my place of employ where there is a fresh water aquarium, the maintenance technician came in for the appointed service call.  She was a lovely.  Still is I suppose(manual labor assists the 0% body fat effort, male or female).  As it was, we engaged in basic conversation as she went about her business and, eventually she said the dreaded, “I really love what I do,” statement. The sickening part about that comment was that, she meant it.  She was an angel or faery that day(I never could figure out what kind of wings she had tattooed betwixed her shoulder blades), and after all this time, I’m still hoping to find the same.

We’ll see…

…how long it lasts.

For now, I’ll say, “Welcome.”