Def
Delve
Showing posts with label soapbox. Show all posts
Showing posts with label soapbox. Show all posts
Monday, June 21, 2010
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Good things / bad things.
Haven't posted in a long time...my blogs are becoming less frequent due to my heavy work load at school, but mostly because I haven't really been in the mood to engage in this specific format for some time.
I've been doing a lot of inner work, and most of it is too private to elaborate on here. I'm a pretty free person; I often discuss things online that some might consider best left in my head. Most of the time I would disagree, but in this case, I'll save it for me; it feels too intimate. Long story short, it has been productive inner work, and that's all that matters.
---
I don't know...I miss the days of nearly a decade ago, when I designed my own website, and although it wasn't technically extravagant, it was a forum I didn't share with hundreds of millions of other people. There was something exciting about maintaining my own blog (which I called "Commentary," because the term "blog" hadn't even been coined yet). Nowadays, everybody and their grandmother has some sort of web presence (thank you MySpace and Facebook), and well, it just doesn't seem that special, anymore. Don't get me wrong, I'm not suddenly going to ditch all technology, shut down this blog and my personal website and never be heard from again...it's just all the goddamn chatter of people who shouldn't be chattering that's driving me crazy.
Look, it's like this. Plenty of people probably feel my posts are frivolous, self-indulgent, etc., and they're right. But sometimes, I'd like to think that an idea, irritation or experience I share in this public forum might incite, inspire or entertain someone else. My blog is rooted in ego, yes, but the connections I've made with a few wonderful people through my website, blog or hell, even MySpace has been invaluable and not motivated by anything self-serving.
What I don't want to do is post undeserved, vitriolic comments regarding people who have done nothing to me, spread hate, or say hurtful things I might regret later. I just wish everyone who posted something on the Internet felt the same way. Sharing one's innermost thoughts, even if dark, can be useful, for both the writer and reader. What's not productive is mean-spirited, sexist/racist/intolerant/cruel bullshit I see dominating public forums today.
People might also argue that some of what I've posted has been mean-spirited or judgmental. Judgmental--absolutely. But if I do say things that seem mean-spirited, you must understand they are tongue-in-cheek and are said to drive a larger point or message home. And sure, they serve as venting measures, too...but they're not slanderous, which is wrong and hateful.
As an example of what I mean:
When the reptilians come to take over in 2012 and start reviewing what knee-jerk, stupid, insipid, jealous crap we post online, I don't blame them for stealing our souls and making us into stew (thanks Whitley Strieber, for that mental image). We have this wonderful forum that offers us the opportunity to create positive, progressive change, and instead, we corrupt it with stupid, jealousy-inspired tirades, homemade midget porn and cruel and slanderous insults to people like Hillary Clinton--who was attacked mercilessly with inane and false accusations, and Madonna--who is going through an obviously painful and sad divorce. I know that many out there are posting wonderful art; are producing valuable information that is now accessible through a few keystrokes...and for that, I'm grateful. But for the rest of you jerks? Get off the 'Net and find a new hobby. I wish it were one that actually contributes to society, but I'm sure that's a completely unrealistic hope, given society's precedent for stupidity and cruelty.
I know the idiots are here to stay. Here's hoping I can keep my chin up long enough to maintain my voice, as insignificant as it may be--to effect a change in minds, even if on such a minuscule scale as this.
---
THINGS I'M REALLY F-ING SICK OF (and there are so many more than this, but here are a few):
Reality anything. It's not real, people. It never was. It has single-handedly destroyed nearly all integrity in television, and has reached out its diseased hands to affect film, documentary, and our worldview in general.
Small-minded fucks, of every stripe. Everywhere I go, there they are. Put 'em in the reptilian stew, I say.
Idiots on my campus who insist on wearing shorts and flip-flops in 30 degree weather. It's their prerogative, I guess, but it just makes them look stupid, not tough--which is their goal, I think. Oh yeah, add to that all the spitting from young men. I'm constantly navigating my rolling bag around disgusting pools of sputum on campus. Really, didn't they gave up spitting for "cleansing" purposes back in the 1700s? Get with the times. Besides, it makes you look like a redneck.
People who meander into my path (or often, into me) because they're staring zombie-like into their cell phone screens reading a text, or are madly typing one out with their thumbs. See Dr. Mike Austin's blog (and my rambling response) to this. You should read his blog anyway; I may be biased because he's one of my Philosophy instructors and mentor for my senior thesis, but I think he's an insightful person.
The folks who still seem to think that listening to bone-shattering bass in their vehicles is cool. I sometimes think my entire reproductive system is going to fall out onto the ground when these vehicles pass on the street, the vibration is so profound. I do not marvel at the majesty of the experience; I marvel at how the vehicle's occupants escape serious brain damage. Wait, maybe they don't, and that's the point. More for the reptilian stew!
THINGS THAT I NEVER TIRE OF (there's more here too, by the way):
The pleasure my cats bring me--comfort, companionship, humor (yes, kitties do very funny things) and I even love it when they're occasionally pissy. It's usually warranted, as I have have my face in one of theirs, going, "Kitty Bug! Kitty Bug!" or some similar exclamation. There is nothing like an animal to remind you not to sweat the small stuff, and that sometimes, the pleasure of a purr or outstretched paw is all one needs to feel better.
Trips out of town. I just came back from an Honors Conference in San Antonio, and man, it felt damn good to get a change of scenery. It was just enough time to savor, and left me refreshed and ready to return to my obligations.
Old episodes of The Prisoner. It's a brilliant 1960s BBC TV series starring Patrick McGoohan, my favorite show of all time (just barely edging out Twin Peaks), and one I re-watch at least every couple of years. The themes continue to be relevant, and it is unlike anything you've ever seen on TV. Thank you to my bro for introducing me to it so long ago. Check it out.
Goofy, simple pleasures, like turning on my lava lamp after a long day for aesthetic and contemplative comfort; the little painted wooden armadillo I bought in San Antonio, whose head bobs when you touch it; the beautiful crimson and gold leaf I picked up on campus at the beginning of fall and put in my car, just because it made me feel good. That sort of stuff. It keeps me fresh, keeps me young.
For someone who has laid off blogging for a while, I've certainly had a lot to say tonight. Well, hey, at least I feel better now...and I only slammed those who deserve it, right? ;)
I've been doing a lot of inner work, and most of it is too private to elaborate on here. I'm a pretty free person; I often discuss things online that some might consider best left in my head. Most of the time I would disagree, but in this case, I'll save it for me; it feels too intimate. Long story short, it has been productive inner work, and that's all that matters.
---
I don't know...I miss the days of nearly a decade ago, when I designed my own website, and although it wasn't technically extravagant, it was a forum I didn't share with hundreds of millions of other people. There was something exciting about maintaining my own blog (which I called "Commentary," because the term "blog" hadn't even been coined yet). Nowadays, everybody and their grandmother has some sort of web presence (thank you MySpace and Facebook), and well, it just doesn't seem that special, anymore. Don't get me wrong, I'm not suddenly going to ditch all technology, shut down this blog and my personal website and never be heard from again...it's just all the goddamn chatter of people who shouldn't be chattering that's driving me crazy.
Look, it's like this. Plenty of people probably feel my posts are frivolous, self-indulgent, etc., and they're right. But sometimes, I'd like to think that an idea, irritation or experience I share in this public forum might incite, inspire or entertain someone else. My blog is rooted in ego, yes, but the connections I've made with a few wonderful people through my website, blog or hell, even MySpace has been invaluable and not motivated by anything self-serving.
What I don't want to do is post undeserved, vitriolic comments regarding people who have done nothing to me, spread hate, or say hurtful things I might regret later. I just wish everyone who posted something on the Internet felt the same way. Sharing one's innermost thoughts, even if dark, can be useful, for both the writer and reader. What's not productive is mean-spirited, sexist/racist/intolerant/cruel bullshit I see dominating public forums today.
People might also argue that some of what I've posted has been mean-spirited or judgmental. Judgmental--absolutely. But if I do say things that seem mean-spirited, you must understand they are tongue-in-cheek and are said to drive a larger point or message home. And sure, they serve as venting measures, too...but they're not slanderous, which is wrong and hateful.
As an example of what I mean:
When the reptilians come to take over in 2012 and start reviewing what knee-jerk, stupid, insipid, jealous crap we post online, I don't blame them for stealing our souls and making us into stew (thanks Whitley Strieber, for that mental image). We have this wonderful forum that offers us the opportunity to create positive, progressive change, and instead, we corrupt it with stupid, jealousy-inspired tirades, homemade midget porn and cruel and slanderous insults to people like Hillary Clinton--who was attacked mercilessly with inane and false accusations, and Madonna--who is going through an obviously painful and sad divorce. I know that many out there are posting wonderful art; are producing valuable information that is now accessible through a few keystrokes...and for that, I'm grateful. But for the rest of you jerks? Get off the 'Net and find a new hobby. I wish it were one that actually contributes to society, but I'm sure that's a completely unrealistic hope, given society's precedent for stupidity and cruelty.
I know the idiots are here to stay. Here's hoping I can keep my chin up long enough to maintain my voice, as insignificant as it may be--to effect a change in minds, even if on such a minuscule scale as this.
---
THINGS I'M REALLY F-ING SICK OF (and there are so many more than this, but here are a few):
Reality anything. It's not real, people. It never was. It has single-handedly destroyed nearly all integrity in television, and has reached out its diseased hands to affect film, documentary, and our worldview in general.
Small-minded fucks, of every stripe. Everywhere I go, there they are. Put 'em in the reptilian stew, I say.
Idiots on my campus who insist on wearing shorts and flip-flops in 30 degree weather. It's their prerogative, I guess, but it just makes them look stupid, not tough--which is their goal, I think. Oh yeah, add to that all the spitting from young men. I'm constantly navigating my rolling bag around disgusting pools of sputum on campus. Really, didn't they gave up spitting for "cleansing" purposes back in the 1700s? Get with the times. Besides, it makes you look like a redneck.
People who meander into my path (or often, into me) because they're staring zombie-like into their cell phone screens reading a text, or are madly typing one out with their thumbs. See Dr. Mike Austin's blog (and my rambling response) to this. You should read his blog anyway; I may be biased because he's one of my Philosophy instructors and mentor for my senior thesis, but I think he's an insightful person.
The folks who still seem to think that listening to bone-shattering bass in their vehicles is cool. I sometimes think my entire reproductive system is going to fall out onto the ground when these vehicles pass on the street, the vibration is so profound. I do not marvel at the majesty of the experience; I marvel at how the vehicle's occupants escape serious brain damage. Wait, maybe they don't, and that's the point. More for the reptilian stew!
THINGS THAT I NEVER TIRE OF (there's more here too, by the way):
The pleasure my cats bring me--comfort, companionship, humor (yes, kitties do very funny things) and I even love it when they're occasionally pissy. It's usually warranted, as I have have my face in one of theirs, going, "Kitty Bug! Kitty Bug!" or some similar exclamation. There is nothing like an animal to remind you not to sweat the small stuff, and that sometimes, the pleasure of a purr or outstretched paw is all one needs to feel better.
Trips out of town. I just came back from an Honors Conference in San Antonio, and man, it felt damn good to get a change of scenery. It was just enough time to savor, and left me refreshed and ready to return to my obligations.
Old episodes of The Prisoner. It's a brilliant 1960s BBC TV series starring Patrick McGoohan, my favorite show of all time (just barely edging out Twin Peaks), and one I re-watch at least every couple of years. The themes continue to be relevant, and it is unlike anything you've ever seen on TV. Thank you to my bro for introducing me to it so long ago. Check it out.
Goofy, simple pleasures, like turning on my lava lamp after a long day for aesthetic and contemplative comfort; the little painted wooden armadillo I bought in San Antonio, whose head bobs when you touch it; the beautiful crimson and gold leaf I picked up on campus at the beginning of fall and put in my car, just because it made me feel good. That sort of stuff. It keeps me fresh, keeps me young.
For someone who has laid off blogging for a while, I've certainly had a lot to say tonight. Well, hey, at least I feel better now...and I only slammed those who deserve it, right? ;)
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Back to school blues.
Just when I think, "Oh, it's not so bad. You only have two semesters of undergrad left and things have gotten off to a pretty good start. No assholes yet..."
Then, there's Math 105. Math 105, the class I'm PISSED OFF I have to take in the first place, not only because I have math phobia (even fractions make me nervous), not only because I scored something like an 11 on the math section of the ACT and am flying blind, but mostly because it's a 100-level course, and 100-level courses mean...YOU GUESSED IT: Assholes.
My instructor is this tiny little Chinese woman who is really sweet and clearly knows her stuff. However, her accent is so thick it is very hard to understand her. There are two jerk-offs in the back of the class who have talked during lecture before, but today, were out of control. They chattered all through Dr. X's instruction, and one of them was even poking fun of her (she didn't seem to realize this or perhaps she just didn't care) while she was explaining one of the problems on the board. Now, I'll admit, she does say/do funny things from time to time (writing "deceasing" on the board instead of "decreasing" did give me a giggle), but audibly making fun of someone's language barrier is NOT cool. Anyway, these two douche bags wouldn't be quiet, so I spoke up:
"I apologize, Dr. X," I said, turning to them. "Could you guys please be quiet? I can't hear her talk."
The reply from one of them was this:
"Shut up."
I was fucking flabbergasted.
"That's really offensive," I replied. "Could you just respect the instructor, since she's the one teaching this stuff?"
"Why don't you just shut up?" he said again, never fully turning his face toward me, but glowering from the side.
Dr. X turned around and just sort of stared at them.
"I can't believe this, Dr. X," I said to her. "These guys are behaving like they're in junior high," I commented.
"Well, maybe I am," Asshole 1 replied. GREAT response. Very creative. By this point, he had all my attention. Asshole 2 was probably just grinning like an idiot.
"Apparently, you should be," I said, and turned around. I was shaking all through the rest of class.
Dr. X tried to smooth things over, saying something about not talking while she's talking, but if I was her, I would have kicked their asses out of class--not only for for disrespecting me (the instructor), but for being TOTALLY out of line with a fellow student, as well.
Dr. X loves for students to read the problems she provides on her handouts, and although I had planned to say nothing else during the remainder of class time, she stood there and waited so long for someone to offer to read one of the examples, I finally started reading it. Of course, these guys started talking AGAIN while I was speaking, and one of them even went to the trouble to knock his book off his desk, which made a loud clap on the floor. Wow, I haven't encountered this much direct hostility at school since those horrible Lord of the Flies years better known as high school.
I am an ASSHOLE MAGNET. I don't know why this is, but I can go anywhere where two or more are gathered, and almost always, the bully of the group (read: insecure jerk, male or female) will target me. I have no idea why.
Someone at work--to whom I was relaying this story--said, "Well, you're just an outspoken woman, and he couldn't handle that." Perhaps so, but this goes beyond some sort of sexist thing. This is a human decency thing. I called someone out on their rude behavior and instead of being embarrassed and ceasing the behavior, the response was to say "shut up"? This sort of stuff shouldn't happen in college. But then again, neither should audible conversations during movies, obscenities yelled from a car at someone walking down the sidewalk, or a million other rude, inexcusable behaviors I encounter daily--which confirms my belief that decorum is dead, common decency is in the shit can and we're all headed to Hades in a hand cart.
So, let's all gather 'round, punch each other in the face while singing Kumbaya and then "Shut up," 'cause I guess everything else is just a waste of time.
Then, there's Math 105. Math 105, the class I'm PISSED OFF I have to take in the first place, not only because I have math phobia (even fractions make me nervous), not only because I scored something like an 11 on the math section of the ACT and am flying blind, but mostly because it's a 100-level course, and 100-level courses mean...YOU GUESSED IT: Assholes.
My instructor is this tiny little Chinese woman who is really sweet and clearly knows her stuff. However, her accent is so thick it is very hard to understand her. There are two jerk-offs in the back of the class who have talked during lecture before, but today, were out of control. They chattered all through Dr. X's instruction, and one of them was even poking fun of her (she didn't seem to realize this or perhaps she just didn't care) while she was explaining one of the problems on the board. Now, I'll admit, she does say/do funny things from time to time (writing "deceasing" on the board instead of "decreasing" did give me a giggle), but audibly making fun of someone's language barrier is NOT cool. Anyway, these two douche bags wouldn't be quiet, so I spoke up:
"I apologize, Dr. X," I said, turning to them. "Could you guys please be quiet? I can't hear her talk."
The reply from one of them was this:
"Shut up."
I was fucking flabbergasted.
"That's really offensive," I replied. "Could you just respect the instructor, since she's the one teaching this stuff?"
"Why don't you just shut up?" he said again, never fully turning his face toward me, but glowering from the side.
Dr. X turned around and just sort of stared at them.
"I can't believe this, Dr. X," I said to her. "These guys are behaving like they're in junior high," I commented.
"Well, maybe I am," Asshole 1 replied. GREAT response. Very creative. By this point, he had all my attention. Asshole 2 was probably just grinning like an idiot.
"Apparently, you should be," I said, and turned around. I was shaking all through the rest of class.
Dr. X tried to smooth things over, saying something about not talking while she's talking, but if I was her, I would have kicked their asses out of class--not only for for disrespecting me (the instructor), but for being TOTALLY out of line with a fellow student, as well.
Dr. X loves for students to read the problems she provides on her handouts, and although I had planned to say nothing else during the remainder of class time, she stood there and waited so long for someone to offer to read one of the examples, I finally started reading it. Of course, these guys started talking AGAIN while I was speaking, and one of them even went to the trouble to knock his book off his desk, which made a loud clap on the floor. Wow, I haven't encountered this much direct hostility at school since those horrible Lord of the Flies years better known as high school.
I am an ASSHOLE MAGNET. I don't know why this is, but I can go anywhere where two or more are gathered, and almost always, the bully of the group (read: insecure jerk, male or female) will target me. I have no idea why.
Someone at work--to whom I was relaying this story--said, "Well, you're just an outspoken woman, and he couldn't handle that." Perhaps so, but this goes beyond some sort of sexist thing. This is a human decency thing. I called someone out on their rude behavior and instead of being embarrassed and ceasing the behavior, the response was to say "shut up"? This sort of stuff shouldn't happen in college. But then again, neither should audible conversations during movies, obscenities yelled from a car at someone walking down the sidewalk, or a million other rude, inexcusable behaviors I encounter daily--which confirms my belief that decorum is dead, common decency is in the shit can and we're all headed to Hades in a hand cart.
So, let's all gather 'round, punch each other in the face while singing Kumbaya and then "Shut up," 'cause I guess everything else is just a waste of time.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Ghouls.
I just learned of actor Morgan Freeman's car crash in Mississippi, which has left him in serious condition. That is sad enough, but further reading revealed that some lookie-loo tried to take a picture of him with his or her camera phone while Freeman was being loaded into an emergency vehicle.
Apparently, the actor was lucid, and joked, "No freebies, no freebies."
God bless him, his patience and sense of humor. I'm not sure I would have responded in the same fashion.
It's bad enough someone would want an image of Freeman while he's in pain and physically debilitated, but I'm CERTAIN this camera phone asshole's hope was to sell the image to some tabloid.
Fucking ghouls. Where does it end?
Apparently, the actor was lucid, and joked, "No freebies, no freebies."
God bless him, his patience and sense of humor. I'm not sure I would have responded in the same fashion.
It's bad enough someone would want an image of Freeman while he's in pain and physically debilitated, but I'm CERTAIN this camera phone asshole's hope was to sell the image to some tabloid.
Fucking ghouls. Where does it end?
Thursday, July 3, 2008
You have 4 new crushes!
I'm so sick of advertising. I'm sick of being bombarded by bullshit 24/7 on TV, radio, in magazines, the internet...promises of things that some morally bereft executive somewhere decided my demographic will respond to. I've been irritated by this shit for years, but I think I've hit my breaking point.
You can think Paris Hilton or Tila Tequila is amusing, but their asses are nothing but advertising manipulation. Those girls are insecure little bags of flesh who became commodities glommed on by a legion of equally self-hating, cocaine-hungry motherfuckers who couldn't give a shit whether they are contributing to the downfall of humankind.
I'm not easily quantifiable. I don't fit into your demographic. I like mainstream shit. I like obscure shit. I don't think about what makes me cool or not. I don't give a shit if anyone judges me by anything other than who I am, which is a flawed but painfully earnest human being who is just making it up as she goes along.
I'm sick of falseness all the way around. I call bullshit on artifice. Anyone wanna join me in my private hell?
No? Well, fuck you. I refuse to cave to the machine.
You can think Paris Hilton or Tila Tequila is amusing, but their asses are nothing but advertising manipulation. Those girls are insecure little bags of flesh who became commodities glommed on by a legion of equally self-hating, cocaine-hungry motherfuckers who couldn't give a shit whether they are contributing to the downfall of humankind.
I'm not easily quantifiable. I don't fit into your demographic. I like mainstream shit. I like obscure shit. I don't think about what makes me cool or not. I don't give a shit if anyone judges me by anything other than who I am, which is a flawed but painfully earnest human being who is just making it up as she goes along.
I'm sick of falseness all the way around. I call bullshit on artifice. Anyone wanna join me in my private hell?
No? Well, fuck you. I refuse to cave to the machine.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Performing tonight!!
As some of you know, I used to work in comedy, and have been looking for a way to get my feet wet again. Tonight, I'll be doing stand-up as part of Comedy on Broadway's 6th Open Mic Contest. Come watch me do my stuff and vote for me! (You get two votes, so you can vote for the person you really like, plus me. ;) )
It will be a great time. Come listen to me bitch about Lexington and maybe do a little dancing...
Comedy Off Broadway Open Mic Contest
See you there!
It will be a great time. Come listen to me bitch about Lexington and maybe do a little dancing...
Comedy Off Broadway Open Mic Contest
See you there!
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Wilfred Owen and the Horrors of War...a brief reflection.
Tonight, I had to read the poem below for my lit crit class, and it nearly broke my heart. This is one of several I've encountered by Wilfred Owen, a soldier who died at age 25 one week before WWI ended. His work offered wise-beyond-his-years, stunningly frank insight into all he saw and experienced.
Every young man or woman who is considering enlisting in the military should not only educate themselves on the shell game that is our current "conflict" (now five years and counting, as we were clearly reminded yesterday) but should read Owen's poetry if they need further convincing.
Disabled
He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark,
And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey,
Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park
Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn,
Voices of play and pleasure after day,
Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him.
About this time Town used to swing so gay
When glow-lamps budded in the light blue trees,
And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim-
In the old times, before he threw away his knees.
Now he will never feel again how slim
Girls' waists are, or how warm their subtle hands.
All of them touch him like some queer disease.
There was an artist silly for his face,
For it was younger than his youth, last year.
Now, he is old; his back will never brace;
He's lost his colour very far from here,
Poured it down shell-holes till the veins ran dry,
And half his lifetime lapsed in the hot race
And leap of purple spurted from his thigh.
One time he liked a blood-smear down his leg,
After the matches, carried shoulder-high.
It was after football, when he'd drunk a peg,
He thought he'd better join. - He wonders why.
Someone had said he'd look a god in kilts,
That's why; and maybe, too, to please his Meg,
Aye, that was it, to please the giddy jilts
He asked to join. He didn't have to beg;
Smiling they wrote his lie: aged nineteen years.
Germans he scarcely thought of; all their guilt,
And Austria's, did not move him. And no fears
Of Fear came yet. He drought of jewelled hills
For daggers in plaid socks; of smart salutes;
And care of arms; and leave; and pay arrears;
Esprit de corps; and hints for young recruits.
And soon, he was drafted out with drums and cheers.
Some cheered him home, but not as crowds cheer Goal.
Only a solemn man who brought him fruits
Thanked him; and then enquired about his soul.
Now, he will spend a few sick years in institutes,
And do what things the rules consider wise,
And take whatever pity they may dole.
Tonight he noticed how the women's eyes
Passed from him to the strong men that were whole.
How cold and late it is! Why don't they come
And put him into bed? Why don't they come?
Every young man or woman who is considering enlisting in the military should not only educate themselves on the shell game that is our current "conflict" (now five years and counting, as we were clearly reminded yesterday) but should read Owen's poetry if they need further convincing.
He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark,
And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey,
Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park
Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn,
Voices of play and pleasure after day,
Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him.
About this time Town used to swing so gay
When glow-lamps budded in the light blue trees,
And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim-
In the old times, before he threw away his knees.
Now he will never feel again how slim
Girls' waists are, or how warm their subtle hands.
All of them touch him like some queer disease.
There was an artist silly for his face,
For it was younger than his youth, last year.
Now, he is old; his back will never brace;
He's lost his colour very far from here,
Poured it down shell-holes till the veins ran dry,
And half his lifetime lapsed in the hot race
And leap of purple spurted from his thigh.
One time he liked a blood-smear down his leg,
After the matches, carried shoulder-high.
It was after football, when he'd drunk a peg,
He thought he'd better join. - He wonders why.
Someone had said he'd look a god in kilts,
That's why; and maybe, too, to please his Meg,
Aye, that was it, to please the giddy jilts
He asked to join. He didn't have to beg;
Smiling they wrote his lie: aged nineteen years.
Germans he scarcely thought of; all their guilt,
And Austria's, did not move him. And no fears
Of Fear came yet. He drought of jewelled hills
For daggers in plaid socks; of smart salutes;
And care of arms; and leave; and pay arrears;
Esprit de corps; and hints for young recruits.
And soon, he was drafted out with drums and cheers.
Some cheered him home, but not as crowds cheer Goal.
Only a solemn man who brought him fruits
Thanked him; and then enquired about his soul.
Now, he will spend a few sick years in institutes,
And do what things the rules consider wise,
And take whatever pity they may dole.
Tonight he noticed how the women's eyes
Passed from him to the strong men that were whole.
How cold and late it is! Why don't they come
And put him into bed? Why don't they come?
Friday, February 22, 2008
Alright. Up to this point...
...I have not been one to proselytize. I've had Hillary Clinton in my top friends on MySpace for some time, so those that are linked up with me there know my position. And, understand--I do like Obama. I will say, either way the campaign goes, it's not so bad; Barack's a great orator, has many excellent positions and that charming star appeal--BUT, it's just not enough for me.
(By the way, if you're voting for McCain, you're dead to me. Sorry; I'm sure there are good things about him personally, but I do NOT want him leading our nation. His anti-female stance on nearly everything combined with his shitty environmental record--he's skipped out on every environmental vote this session--makes him the Devil Incarnate in my book. I probably wouldn't vote Republican anyway, after all--I'm a Green.)
Anyway, back to the topic at hand--despite how much I want "change" too, I don't want to join this pie-in-the-sky frenzy I see overtaking many in Obama's camp. They've worked themselves into a "Yes We Can!" furor, bordering on fanatical. Those who know me know I'm VERY liberal; bordering on radical, sometimes--but I also know that things cannot shift on a dime in Washington, as much as we might like them to. And I am not suggesting by that statement that Hillary will participate in "back-room deals" or any of that crap. But Clinton has plenty of experience with how Washington works (much longer than Obama), and her radical changes (because there are some, believe it or not) are much more likely to be considered and enforced than in an Obama administration (anyone remember how Jimmy Carter was railroaded? I fear this for Obama--in a big way). Clinton has bigger cojones than nearly any cluck in Washington and is a force to be reckoned with--which is why the early consensus was that she would be the Democratic nominee before primaries even began.
I want change to be initiated from someone who has a proven track record of experience; strength, intelligence, resolve, a reasonable, critical mind, an ability to learn from her husband's mistakes and not make them herself--and don't forget those Texas-sized cojones. The lady's got all of the above. In spades. Get over the fact that she's not as warm as Obama. Get over the orange shirts and the fact that she has a cackly laugh. I like orange and have a cackly laugh and all of you choose to still read my blogs. Do you want a fucking celebrity for President or someone who can lead us into being the United States we were once proud of? Listen to what she's saying.
Now that the Democratic race has gotten tight, I just want to share with you one of the many reasons why I think Hillary Rodham Clinton should be the next President of the United States of America:
February 21 Debate Clip
Thanks for listening. There may be more. :)
(By the way, if you're voting for McCain, you're dead to me. Sorry; I'm sure there are good things about him personally, but I do NOT want him leading our nation. His anti-female stance on nearly everything combined with his shitty environmental record--he's skipped out on every environmental vote this session--makes him the Devil Incarnate in my book. I probably wouldn't vote Republican anyway, after all--I'm a Green.)
Anyway, back to the topic at hand--despite how much I want "change" too, I don't want to join this pie-in-the-sky frenzy I see overtaking many in Obama's camp. They've worked themselves into a "Yes We Can!" furor, bordering on fanatical. Those who know me know I'm VERY liberal; bordering on radical, sometimes--but I also know that things cannot shift on a dime in Washington, as much as we might like them to. And I am not suggesting by that statement that Hillary will participate in "back-room deals" or any of that crap. But Clinton has plenty of experience with how Washington works (much longer than Obama), and her radical changes (because there are some, believe it or not) are much more likely to be considered and enforced than in an Obama administration (anyone remember how Jimmy Carter was railroaded? I fear this for Obama--in a big way). Clinton has bigger cojones than nearly any cluck in Washington and is a force to be reckoned with--which is why the early consensus was that she would be the Democratic nominee before primaries even began.
I want change to be initiated from someone who has a proven track record of experience; strength, intelligence, resolve, a reasonable, critical mind, an ability to learn from her husband's mistakes and not make them herself--and don't forget those Texas-sized cojones. The lady's got all of the above. In spades. Get over the fact that she's not as warm as Obama. Get over the orange shirts and the fact that she has a cackly laugh. I like orange and have a cackly laugh and all of you choose to still read my blogs. Do you want a fucking celebrity for President or someone who can lead us into being the United States we were once proud of? Listen to what she's saying.
Now that the Democratic race has gotten tight, I just want to share with you one of the many reasons why I think Hillary Rodham Clinton should be the next President of the United States of America:
Thanks for listening. There may be more. :)
Thursday, December 27, 2007
It’s cold, I’m bored...here are some completely irrelevant pop culture thoughts.
So, in my continued obsession with Eric Bana, I watched Lucky You last night. Not a perfect film by any means, but enjoyable, nonetheless. It actually made poker sort of interesting to me. It could have used some Bana nudity, but oh well.
There were moments when Drew Barrymore was fantastic, but others where she slipped back into the comfy, quirky little girl place she revisits all too often as an actor. More directors like George Clooney need to work with her--he (and Penny Marshall, to an extent) are the only directors to apparently make her feel comfortable enough to get to the fabulous actress that just lives below the surface...I'm referring to Confessions of a Dangerous Mind and Riding in Cars with Boys, respectively. I know it's in there, and I look forward to her breakthrough performance, on the horizon. I've always thought she had it in her.
Anyway, so much for that. Time for a catty tangent:
Two Female Celebrities Whose Popularity Escapes Me:
Fergie--Okay, why are so many women holding her up as some sort of model of beauty? Has anyone not noticed that she looks like a freaking drag queen? I mean, I love drag queens, but um, when they're men approximating (and exaggerating) female standards of beauty. Not when it's a young woman filling her face so full of Botox is looks like it could burst and cultivating eyebrows that remind me of that episode of The Sopranos where A.J. crashed out at a party and his buddies shaved his off and drew on scary arches worthy of Divine. And how old is she, like 29? Jesus, I hate to see what she's going to look like at 40 (not that the world cares about anyone older than 30, anyway...grumble grumble).
I've only heard maybe 1-2 of her songs, and there's not much going on there. Here's my interpretation of her music:
"I'm so fucking hot and I'm so fucking hot and I'm so fucking hot you know you want to hit it."
Okay. Well, a.) Um, no, you're not; and b.) Um, no, I don't.
I'm sure millions of people disagree, but that's my assessment of Ms. Thang.
Sarah Silverman--She's grating, self-congratulatory, has an incredibly unpleasant, whiny, little-girl petulant attitude in interviews, and just because she says fuck and offends every race/religion/whathaveyou on the planet, she's held as some sort of comedy genius? Oh, and I forgot...she's not funny.
Having worked in comedy for a good number of years, I know what people find funny is relative. I respect that. But everyone goes on and on about how brilliant she is--and other than just being crass or sophomoric, I'm don't see that she has a lot else to offer. Oh, but I forgot...she's hot and Jewish. Uh, well, half of Hollywood is Jewish, but that don't mean they're all hot. I appreciate a good looking woman, will admit that she is if she is--but what's her appeal? Somebody explain to me why guys go so kooky for her.
I love to see women treading new ground in comedy--there aren't enough of us out there that have broken through--it's a goddamn boys' club, probably always will be. But I don't know if I want her to be the poster child for us funny girls. She's too in love with herself for me to feel comfortable with that.
And now, back to your regularly scheduled program. I've got to go shave off my eyebrows, inject my face with botulism and practice my poop jokes, all while jiggling in front of the mirror and thinking I'm the man (oops, I mean woman).
There were moments when Drew Barrymore was fantastic, but others where she slipped back into the comfy, quirky little girl place she revisits all too often as an actor. More directors like George Clooney need to work with her--he (and Penny Marshall, to an extent) are the only directors to apparently make her feel comfortable enough to get to the fabulous actress that just lives below the surface...I'm referring to Confessions of a Dangerous Mind and Riding in Cars with Boys, respectively. I know it's in there, and I look forward to her breakthrough performance, on the horizon. I've always thought she had it in her.
Anyway, so much for that. Time for a catty tangent:
Two Female Celebrities Whose Popularity Escapes Me:
Fergie--Okay, why are so many women holding her up as some sort of model of beauty? Has anyone not noticed that she looks like a freaking drag queen? I mean, I love drag queens, but um, when they're men approximating (and exaggerating) female standards of beauty. Not when it's a young woman filling her face so full of Botox is looks like it could burst and cultivating eyebrows that remind me of that episode of The Sopranos where A.J. crashed out at a party and his buddies shaved his off and drew on scary arches worthy of Divine. And how old is she, like 29? Jesus, I hate to see what she's going to look like at 40 (not that the world cares about anyone older than 30, anyway...grumble grumble).
I've only heard maybe 1-2 of her songs, and there's not much going on there. Here's my interpretation of her music:
"I'm so fucking hot and I'm so fucking hot and I'm so fucking hot you know you want to hit it."
Okay. Well, a.) Um, no, you're not; and b.) Um, no, I don't.
I'm sure millions of people disagree, but that's my assessment of Ms. Thang.
Sarah Silverman--She's grating, self-congratulatory, has an incredibly unpleasant, whiny, little-girl petulant attitude in interviews, and just because she says fuck and offends every race/religion/whathaveyou on the planet, she's held as some sort of comedy genius? Oh, and I forgot...she's not funny.
Having worked in comedy for a good number of years, I know what people find funny is relative. I respect that. But everyone goes on and on about how brilliant she is--and other than just being crass or sophomoric, I'm don't see that she has a lot else to offer. Oh, but I forgot...she's hot and Jewish. Uh, well, half of Hollywood is Jewish, but that don't mean they're all hot. I appreciate a good looking woman, will admit that she is if she is--but what's her appeal? Somebody explain to me why guys go so kooky for her.
I love to see women treading new ground in comedy--there aren't enough of us out there that have broken through--it's a goddamn boys' club, probably always will be. But I don't know if I want her to be the poster child for us funny girls. She's too in love with herself for me to feel comfortable with that.
And now, back to your regularly scheduled program. I've got to go shave off my eyebrows, inject my face with botulism and practice my poop jokes, all while jiggling in front of the mirror and thinking I'm the man (oops, I mean woman).
Friday, December 21, 2007
Am I a bad person?
So, given that I've had a major crush on Michael Palin since the 80s (yeah, I know he's the same age as my dad--sue me), I often watch his travel specials. They're always fun, informative and occasionally emotionally moving. Last night, I was viewing his latest, Himalaya, and he actually acquired a one-on-one sit down with His Holiness, the Dalai Lama. I was very excited, as I've always had a bit of curiosity about Buddhism (I'll be studying it next semester in Asian Philosophy), and I was expecting great things, great things.
Um, the Dalai Lama spend most of the time giggling and being incoherent.
I couldn't tell if it was nervousness, tiredness (he had just received 700 other people prior to meeting Michael), his trouble with English, or just the way he is. It made me a little uncomfortable. I guess, given my Christian upbringing (which I have abandoned for the most part, aside from the unconditional love and general ethics stuff) I expected a figurehead of a major world religion to exude a bit more of a sanguine, authoritative presence. The DL was just, well, kind of goofy.
I know from what little I've read in Buddhist literature this behavior is often true of monks and so-called authority figures in the tradition. They are childlike and embrace all of life's absurdities, which I do find refreshing. But...the DL? I don't know. Am I endowing him with too much? He is just a man, after all--but ain't Siddharta sittin' in there somewhere? Bein' stoic and wise? *Sigh.*
Um, the Dalai Lama spend most of the time giggling and being incoherent.
I couldn't tell if it was nervousness, tiredness (he had just received 700 other people prior to meeting Michael), his trouble with English, or just the way he is. It made me a little uncomfortable. I guess, given my Christian upbringing (which I have abandoned for the most part, aside from the unconditional love and general ethics stuff) I expected a figurehead of a major world religion to exude a bit more of a sanguine, authoritative presence. The DL was just, well, kind of goofy.
I know from what little I've read in Buddhist literature this behavior is often true of monks and so-called authority figures in the tradition. They are childlike and embrace all of life's absurdities, which I do find refreshing. But...the DL? I don't know. Am I endowing him with too much? He is just a man, after all--but ain't Siddharta sittin' in there somewhere? Bein' stoic and wise? *Sigh.*
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Forcing the End.
Periodically on MySpace, I get a friend invite from some loser wanting to "hook up." I resist the desire to refer you to this guy's profile (it further fleshes out what a completely illiterate troglodyte he is), but I'll at least show you his introductory email:
really liked ure pics besides the obvious fact that u so purdy i can tell that u soo coo u got that wow factor now floor me by givin me a lil shout can i get witchya?? ya know bungee jumpin is like getting a blow job from ya gandma it might feel good but 4 godsakes dont look down ,lol
Charming.
By the way, he lists his influences as "mom dad jesus."
Humanity continues to slip even further into oblivion, at an exponential rate. We race toward the apocalypse in a flaming cart of hooligans, half-wits and herd-mentality drones.
Happy Sunday!
really liked ure pics besides the obvious fact that u so purdy i can tell that u soo coo u got that wow factor now floor me by givin me a lil shout can i get witchya?? ya know bungee jumpin is like getting a blow job from ya gandma it might feel good but 4 godsakes dont look down ,lol
Charming.
By the way, he lists his influences as "mom dad jesus."
Humanity continues to slip even further into oblivion, at an exponential rate. We race toward the apocalypse in a flaming cart of hooligans, half-wits and herd-mentality drones.
Happy Sunday!
Monday, September 10, 2007
Reflections, three weeks in.
I've been an official "returning adult" student for several weeks now, and as is my nature, I've made a lot of observations.
My primary assertion is that it's very fulfilling, in many ways. I got a taste of this when I picked up a few classes in early 2006, in Los Angeles--to get my feet wet again--to decide where my academic focus should lie. I was teetering between philosophy and anthropology; philosophy won (and not just because my instructor was cute). I found philosophy really plugged me in to where my mind and my search was taking me. I'd grown tired of the platitudes bandied about by the L.A. pseudo-enlightened; stuff that boiled down to trash. You know what? Maybe things aren't happening for a cosmic reason. I've followed my inner guides a million times, only to later find myself in the wake of yet another catastophe. It was seeming to me that such easy epithets were the fodder of people either blessed with dumb luck or from those not wanting to take responsibility for anything around them. And that's not to say I don't still feel or am no longer an irrational. I can still be trippy-dippy, find synchonicity in things...but while it's true I have an artist's heart, I have an analytical mind, always desiring to reach the truth of any query, endeavor or situation (all too often to the detriment of my aformentioned artist's heart).
I'm taking five philosophy classes this semester, yes, five. All of which compete for my mind space, but more often than not, link together in interesting ways. Some branches, such as metaphysics, tangle me in infinite loops of deconstruction, only to periodically become clear again. Today I see myself as a nominalist, tomorrow a realist. And that's just scratching the surface. I find great beauty in Plato's Allegory of the Cave (one of the first things I fell in love with in Intro), and my artist's heart also loves the realm of perfect Forms. It's a way of realizing my old religious leanings without having to subscribe to the whole Southern Baptist "God" concept. Bertrand Russell's ambition to revise metaphysics through Neutral Monism--while arguably unsuccessful--is nonetheless inspiring.
So much falling around me, like snow; I pick it up and hold it in my hand, it absorbs and becomes a part of me.
It is as if the hard drive of my mind is being defragmented and is preparing for reboot.
----
There are some negatives, however. First of all, despite the stellar instruction I'm receiving at both institutions, I'm doing it in an town that limits me. Not just an "oh, there's nothing interesting to do on a Saturday night" sort of limitation--I can find worthwhile art and entertainment in Lexington if I look hard enough--but more of a "wow, all of this is so overwhelming I'd love to have a conversation with someone who will appreciate it" kind of feeling (not discounting my folks and my bro; they're great with these sorts of exchanges, but you know...I mean "in-the-moment" peers). Even more, I feel stifled by the feeling of being landlocked. Sometimes I just want to take my thoughts to the edge of the water and let them tumble along with the surf. Get that "oceanic feeling" Freud talked about, a term someone recently introduced me to when I was describing how I felt a sense of connectedness to everything when I was alone with my thoughts in nature. A marriage of analytic mind and emotional heart; that's all I've ever craved, anyway.
My pet negative is the ridiculous amount of clucks that clog up my classes, mostly at EKU. EKU has surprised me in a lot of ways; as mentioned above, the great instruction, small class sizes, friendlier bureaucracy, etc. But with an eastern Kentucky undergrad university that has always had the rep of being a "party school," it's inevitable that you're going to have a fair share of people who are attending only to get away from home. The worst offenders are in my English Lit class (I chose it as an elective, as I've considered Literature in the past also as a major). My god, these people are the biggest bunch of lackluster doofuses. The instructor, while a sweet lady, is lacking a bit in her oratory skills, but NONE of these idiots will offer anything to the discussion, unless their mouths are forcibly opened by her, anyway. Myself and another girl (ironically, also from Rockcastle County) are the only ones who contribute on a regular basis. One guy today (who is always late, sits there taking no notes and never cracks a book; looks like a reject from Blind Melon) actually said, "I don't know," when asked some simple question about our reading from The Iliad. If you don't fucking know, then fucking stay at home and sleep off your hangover. Stop taking up my valuable oxygen. Also today, the instructor had everyone read a line aloud from the text, and while I don't think this is the most productive way of communicating the material, I was appalled to hear the halting, mispronounced tripe that came out of people's mouths. It's true I can be a snob when it comes to reading and writing, because I'm quite good at both. But Jesus H. Christ! You people are in college--the word "poised" is not to be pronounced "poison!" I'm gonna have a heart attack here, so I'd better stop. No wait. One more: we had to write a simile about ourselves, and while mine wasn't showstopping, it was something like: "She was thorough and efficient, going about her business like an insect pollinating the flowers," it was at least, serviceable. I glance over at one of my "teammates'" (yes, we're broken down into teams, blecch) similes, and his was:
"I am as fun as a ball."
Enough said.
----
In sum:
School=good for Alexandra
Stupid people=bad for Alexandra
*Sigh* Some things just never change.
My primary assertion is that it's very fulfilling, in many ways. I got a taste of this when I picked up a few classes in early 2006, in Los Angeles--to get my feet wet again--to decide where my academic focus should lie. I was teetering between philosophy and anthropology; philosophy won (and not just because my instructor was cute). I found philosophy really plugged me in to where my mind and my search was taking me. I'd grown tired of the platitudes bandied about by the L.A. pseudo-enlightened; stuff that boiled down to trash. You know what? Maybe things aren't happening for a cosmic reason. I've followed my inner guides a million times, only to later find myself in the wake of yet another catastophe. It was seeming to me that such easy epithets were the fodder of people either blessed with dumb luck or from those not wanting to take responsibility for anything around them. And that's not to say I don't still feel or am no longer an irrational. I can still be trippy-dippy, find synchonicity in things...but while it's true I have an artist's heart, I have an analytical mind, always desiring to reach the truth of any query, endeavor or situation (all too often to the detriment of my aformentioned artist's heart).
I'm taking five philosophy classes this semester, yes, five. All of which compete for my mind space, but more often than not, link together in interesting ways. Some branches, such as metaphysics, tangle me in infinite loops of deconstruction, only to periodically become clear again. Today I see myself as a nominalist, tomorrow a realist. And that's just scratching the surface. I find great beauty in Plato's Allegory of the Cave (one of the first things I fell in love with in Intro), and my artist's heart also loves the realm of perfect Forms. It's a way of realizing my old religious leanings without having to subscribe to the whole Southern Baptist "God" concept. Bertrand Russell's ambition to revise metaphysics through Neutral Monism--while arguably unsuccessful--is nonetheless inspiring.
So much falling around me, like snow; I pick it up and hold it in my hand, it absorbs and becomes a part of me.
It is as if the hard drive of my mind is being defragmented and is preparing for reboot.
----
There are some negatives, however. First of all, despite the stellar instruction I'm receiving at both institutions, I'm doing it in an town that limits me. Not just an "oh, there's nothing interesting to do on a Saturday night" sort of limitation--I can find worthwhile art and entertainment in Lexington if I look hard enough--but more of a "wow, all of this is so overwhelming I'd love to have a conversation with someone who will appreciate it" kind of feeling (not discounting my folks and my bro; they're great with these sorts of exchanges, but you know...I mean "in-the-moment" peers). Even more, I feel stifled by the feeling of being landlocked. Sometimes I just want to take my thoughts to the edge of the water and let them tumble along with the surf. Get that "oceanic feeling" Freud talked about, a term someone recently introduced me to when I was describing how I felt a sense of connectedness to everything when I was alone with my thoughts in nature. A marriage of analytic mind and emotional heart; that's all I've ever craved, anyway.
My pet negative is the ridiculous amount of clucks that clog up my classes, mostly at EKU. EKU has surprised me in a lot of ways; as mentioned above, the great instruction, small class sizes, friendlier bureaucracy, etc. But with an eastern Kentucky undergrad university that has always had the rep of being a "party school," it's inevitable that you're going to have a fair share of people who are attending only to get away from home. The worst offenders are in my English Lit class (I chose it as an elective, as I've considered Literature in the past also as a major). My god, these people are the biggest bunch of lackluster doofuses. The instructor, while a sweet lady, is lacking a bit in her oratory skills, but NONE of these idiots will offer anything to the discussion, unless their mouths are forcibly opened by her, anyway. Myself and another girl (ironically, also from Rockcastle County) are the only ones who contribute on a regular basis. One guy today (who is always late, sits there taking no notes and never cracks a book; looks like a reject from Blind Melon) actually said, "I don't know," when asked some simple question about our reading from The Iliad. If you don't fucking know, then fucking stay at home and sleep off your hangover. Stop taking up my valuable oxygen. Also today, the instructor had everyone read a line aloud from the text, and while I don't think this is the most productive way of communicating the material, I was appalled to hear the halting, mispronounced tripe that came out of people's mouths. It's true I can be a snob when it comes to reading and writing, because I'm quite good at both. But Jesus H. Christ! You people are in college--the word "poised" is not to be pronounced "poison!" I'm gonna have a heart attack here, so I'd better stop. No wait. One more: we had to write a simile about ourselves, and while mine wasn't showstopping, it was something like: "She was thorough and efficient, going about her business like an insect pollinating the flowers," it was at least, serviceable. I glance over at one of my "teammates'" (yes, we're broken down into teams, blecch) similes, and his was:
"I am as fun as a ball."
Enough said.
----
In sum:
School=good for Alexandra
Stupid people=bad for Alexandra
*Sigh* Some things just never change.
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