Ex Factor

Most of us have exes. Ex-girlfriends and Ex-boyfriends. People we broke up with. People that dumped us. Mutual break-ups and loud break-offs. As usual, I'm not reporting news, just getting the ball rolling.

I lead in with this to get my thoughts processing on exes in general. I recently asked someone if they miss their exes. There were a lot of different directions to take this, so let's see how many I can touch before my battery dies on me.

1.) To some extent, I miss all my exes. No, there aren't a slew of them to pick from. I haven't played the dating game as well as some of my peers. But the ones that I did have an extended attachment to, regardless of the way it ended or how long its been, still hold a special enough place in my heart to allow me to miss them. And I think it's natural to, because you end up remembering their good characteristics. So whatever drove you two apart in the first place doesn't shine through as much as why you liked them in the first place.

2.) I also think that idea applies way more when you are single, as opposed to being in a happy relationship. Maybe I miss the idea of them, sometimes, since those thoughts can be idealistic, as opposed to the actual person. So while you may be completely different people, and if you bumped into them on the street, you might find the attraction and passion you once shared has completely vanished, but that doesn't change the memory of what once was.

3.) I would also think that the way the relationship ended would have some impact on your current feelings. If someone you cared about truly obliterated your feelings, they may not be remembered in so fond of a light. But that's a little more obvious. But even if the relationship crashed and burned like a zeppelin, it can still give you a benchmark to use as a reference for any other prospect. Whether that's fair or not, it gives you a relative comparison that will either help you to make smart decisions or inhibit you from making adventurous decisions.

4.) Getting past 'memories' and other ways of remembering those we have dated, what about those that still find themselves in our lives? Is it acceptable to still be friends with your exes? Can you have lunch or dinner or coffee without digging up those old feelings or recreating what once was? Is it healthy to maintain ties with someone you once cared for, or are you simply holding on to a past that should have moved on? Will holding on to that past condemn you to repeating what didn't work in the first place? Are you setting yourself up to ruin something in the present, or have you matured to a point of mutual respect, appreciation, and general concern for those that once occupied a sincere place in your heart?

The last section was laced with questions since I don't think I have the answers. Not with my experience. And while I'd like to wager some guesses, I think maybe I'll just deal with the situations when they arise and hope my decisions leave a positive mark on my body, as opposed to a damaging scar.

Change Control

When are we going to let go of the things we can't control? Or maybe I should make this one personal. I feel I generalize my personal opinions, attempting to standardize my point of view across a large spectrum. But maybe this is an instance where I don't really follow the general flow, and can't find the right sequence of words that would convince anyone that the way I am in correct. Or maybe I don't want to explore that possible combination, since I in fact do not agree with the way I am. But how often are we truly able to change the way we are?

My lead in to this little outburst was letting go of things we can't control. Depending on the situation, it can be hard for me to accept that no matter my efforts, no matter my charm or wit or intelligence or logic, there are situations that are decided by other factors, or have already been decided. I guess it's pretty simple to figure out why this could be a problem. So since I already exhausted that topic, let's move on.

Two topics, one post. Consider yourself lucky.

So can we actually change ourselves? Seriously. We can change the way we act and change the way we eat and change the people we talk to and change the shows we watch, but deep down, seventeen layers under the skin that we reside in, are we any different?

The answer is yes. The answer is 100% yes. People, classes, books, hell tv shows, jokes, everything. It all changes us. So as much as me not getting along with the inability to control situations can be changed. So then maybe it's not the situations that need to be changed, but it's me that could use a change. And it's not impossible to do that these days.

So maybe I need an addendum to one of my favorite quotes. 'If you don't like it, change it. If you can't change it, change the way you look at it.' Well if you can't change the way you look at, maybe you can change yourself. Maybe.

Comfortably Uncomfortable: The Bed We Make

So after three nights in an unfamiliar single bed in Ft Lauderdale, one night in the single bed I slept the first 12 years of my life in, and a night in a hand-me-down queen bed that resides in my brother's room, last night was my first night's sleep in the bed I have come to know over the last 10 or so years. While my bed doesn't rank very high on the list of most comfortable places in the world, or my apartment, and I'm pretty sure the bed that sits nearly alone in my brother's room is far nicer to lay in, I still prefer the contours that I retire to on a nightly basis. So I'm pretty sure it's safe to say that its not how comfortable something is, but how comfortable you are with it. At least for me. And I'd imagine for some of you too.

So this little comfort thought got me thinking. How many other facets of life can this theory be applied to?

I polled 100 people on the street, asked them what is something that you find the most comfortable, even when there are other options that are supposed to be better at comfort? Survey saaaaaays:

Bed, number one answer. 65% of the answers. Second on the list, jeans. Jeans something that can easily be worn into. Number three, shoes always take on a personality of their own. Fourth on the list, significant others at 7% of the answers. And a lonely 1 person said a baseball glove.

Okay I didn't poll anyone, but those all seem like legitimate options. They all qualify as something that increases in comfort as time passes, emerging with a new identity, and ultimately satisfying your need for the safe and warm feeling that you look for. People wear their jeans from faded spots to heinous rips, attempting to sew, patch, hem, or doing anything possible to keep those blue jeans hanging off your backside. I've worn shoes for 6 years, worn off every speck of tread, parts of the spongy sole, through the sidewalls, past three shoelaces, and through two pad inserts. What? They were really comfortable and I loved the look. Sue me. Someone you're dating is a bit of a stretch, but the same idea. You try all you can, use patches, and ultimately try to salvage something because you're reluctant to find someone new. People feel more comfortable in certain people's arms. That may mean that those people are the 'ones that are supposed to be,' but it still fits the bill of something you become comfortable with after a duration of time. And of course a baseball glove. No glove feels better than the one you played in for years, spit on, hurled against a dugout, kicked through the dirt, and gloved thousands of ground balls, fly balls, and fast balls.

So what does this all mean? It means that sometimes, lying in a comfortable bed, my cat roaming around the room, window open with gorgeous 65 degree winds coming in, and the calm tapping of the rain easing my dreams, all I need is the train to go by, screeching and shaking, before I can get a good night's sleep.

Which One Is It?

What do you do when you don't have anything to write about? Does it mean that there's nothing prudent or pertinent or turbulent in my life that I can't find some relevant topic to scribble about? Or does it mean that there's so much up in the air that I can't pull something down long enough to gather my thoughts?

Neither. It means I'm generally happy right now, and I have to get ready for some dinner plans. Just wanted to check in with that.

Just a Dream?

Where does it come from, this innate experience to conjure ideas and feelings and stories and adventures in the midst of the night? Why do we dream? According to iRobot, dreaming is what separates us from machines, from inanimate objects. But that can't be the reason, just a distinction between us and those that can't think. So then what's the explanation? I have often said that the shades of the night invite demons to our minds. But that applies more to the idle wandering that your brain cycles through when you don't have something to keep it active. And besides, not all dreams are bad, so it can't be just those plaguing thoughts that linger too long into the night.

Do dreams give us a chance to play fantasies out, in hopes of experiencing some phenomenon that may or may not ever happen? Maybe my mind uses the lull that my body creates to explore things that my body will never allow me to, thus giving me the sensation of really doing it.

Do dreams just allow us to replay and reenact major scenes or life-altering occurrences from our daily lives? Maybe I cycle through these memories like paging through an old photo album, pausing and watching to relive it, feelings, sights, and notions abound.

Do dreams give us an opportunity to portray events of the future? Maybe I just started getting to know someone, and my mind wants to see how things will turn out, so it uses the information available to predict some happenings that could very well pan out. This would either guide you to reaching that outcome, or prepare you in how to react when it does come.

Do you find what you love and continue to imagine it? Do you face your fears, or simply run from them again and again? Do you dig up cherished childhood favorites or dwell on a face that passed you in the hallway?

I think dreams are amazing. They truly show the depth of our mind and how it can work. It can hypothesize and synthesize entire conversations with people we haven't spoken to in years. It can imagine an alternative world that defies the laws the define our own. It can make us fall in love with someone that doesn't exist. It can make us terrified of something that will never hurt us. It can make you physically react. Sweat. Shake. Wake up. Its wicked smart.

But how much stock do we put in these hallucinated escapes? While I would like to say that dreams are the medium that our sub-conscience uses to pass messages, I just can't buy into it. We would remember more of them if that was the case. Something else would figure it out. We wouldn't always be falling off of cliffs. So I'm going to go with a whole bunch of hogwash. That's right. Dreams are like creepy tour guides... fun to look at and they can take you crazy places, but don't you dare trust them. You can't live your life based on fiction. Find something grounded and depend on that.

Romeo:

Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!
Thou talk'st of nothing!

Mercutio:

True. I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
Which is as thin of substance as the air,
And more inconstant than the wind,

You Know Me All Too Well

I just realized why I started my last post, "Hand Up Mona Lisa's Skirt." Sometimes you don't always finish where you had planned. So let me do that now.

Do I give too much of myself away? Am I so easy to peg? This weekend, two different people sent me something that 'reminded them of me.' Reminded them of something I would say. Some way I would think. Something I would write or believe in or quote or enjoy. While the two sources of this 'reporting' were two people that at one point or another, knew me better than I know myself, it still got me thinking.

How many people out there know me so well because of how much I've given away? Has this exposure left me with no shield? Too vulnerable?

Strength, I fear, endures for only so long. Those who allow themselves to be stripped of defense get their strength tested more often than those that fly under the radar. Some would say, and I would hope, that frequent testing produces lasting reinforcement. But there's no proof. So how do I know when I will stop bouncing back?

The Hand Up Mona Lisa's Skirt

So I kind of pride myself on having nothing to hide. This may or may not be a good thing. May or may not be encouraged. But is still something I believe in. I live my life and carry myself in a way where anyone should be able to access my thoughts and hear my reasons or my opinions. I think I can use this as a tool rather than a deficiency, obviously, or I would be dumb to keep doing it.

There are some contrasting thoughts as I continue to explore this idea. The very idea of writing this means I haven't jumped ship yet. As often as I can shed light onto a topic that some may not have considered, I also show my cards. But to move forward...

A part of me believes that the only way to win is to announce your presence, open your files, expose your secrets, and bear your arms, telling your opposition, confrontation, or any other form of interaction that you are what you are, you are not scared, and you will be strong. I know strength isn't always the preferred outcome, so I'll just say, whatever you desire, you show. This is my honest approach. This is my, you know what you're getting, no bones in my closet, with nothing hiding, nothing can come back to bite me, mentality. I like this. This makes sense to me. If you know me at all, things that make sense appeal to me.

The problem is the other side of the argument makes sense too.

"Don't get too cocky my boy. No matter how good you are don't ever let them see you coming. That's the gaffe my friend. You gotta keep yourself small. Innocuous. Be the little guy. You know, the nerd... the leper... shit-kickin' surfer. Look at me: underestimated from day one... ...I'm the hand up Mona Lisa's skirt. I'm a surprise. They don't see me coming..."

That's a quote from a great movie. But it makes my counterpoint perfectly. And I agree with it. It's hard to find a whole lot of research to back up this theory. It's hard to make a slew of scientific, hard nose points that completely convey this idea. It's not a new idea to think that the underdog has an advantage. But it should be viewed at more than just a sports theme. The underdog is also someone that keeps their hand hidden and catches people off guard. This is a strength. This is effective.

But I guess for me, the latter is a form of deception. Could be considered harmless... but I don't like to work that way. Least not often. Someone recently said that you don't have anything unless you have trust. So here I am. Uncovered and raw. Take me as you find me. I offer no less. And I hope that's enough.

TV Influences Me

"Where does it come from? This quest? This need to solve lifes mysteries when the simpliest of questions can never be answered. Why are we here? What is the soul? Why do we dream? Perhaps we would be better off not looking at all. Not delving. Not yearning. But that's not human nature. Not the human heart. That is not why we are here. Yet still we struggle to make a difference. To change the world. To dream of hope. Never knowing for certain who we'll meet along the way. Who, among the world of strangers, will hold our hand. Touch our hearts. And share the pain of trying."

City Living

So when I started this endeavor, I had great intentions. Great expectations. There didn't seem to be a lid on what I was approaching. I envisioned late nights with extravagant people and stories for days that would sell in a book, if I could remember them well enough to write them down. There was supposed to be an endless list of options that would entice even the good-natured and pure-souled.

Then it all happened. Then I moved to the loud noises and, well, the loud noises. And I was thrust into a lifestyle that doesn't give you a chance to breath, nevertheless actually live a normal life.

Hold on. The train is going by. Again.

I have been stretched to my thinnest cord and last nerve, and it's not going to stop. There is exactly 6 months left to live in this place, and I have no idea if I will be strong enough to be able to endure. I'm exhausted every day at work. I'm miserable on my way home. I'm physically deteriorated. I'm neglecting people I care about. And I'm just about done.


Just Kidding. Happy April 1st. Love the city!! SUMMMEERRRRRR

What's on Your Mind?

"I blacked out, and when I woke up... I could hear what every woman around me was... thinking. Talking personal, private stuff. The stuff that nobody is supposed to hear, I hear that stuff."

As most of you have already deduced, that is a quote from the charming, perfect-for-TBS movie, What Women Want. This came across my viewing list last night as I was trying, and failing, to get tired. What follows in this writing will incidentally analyze the movie in addition to the reason for starting this. So read on, mind readers.

If you could have the ability to hear the thoughts of those whom you are attracted to, would you? Not 'just for a day,' not 'sometimes,' not 'only when I really need it.' Full blown, can't turn off, everyone around you, at all times. Yes or No.

Instead of exploring both sides and being all diplomatic like my astrological sign tells me I'm supposed to be, I'm just going to flat out tell you no, I would not like this 'talent.' Now here's why.

My biggest problem is the lost excitement that vanishes without the presence of mystery. Secrets keep us wanting. If you get the answer before you even ask the question, then relationships would be fast forwarded. There would be no more guessing. With no guessing, there would be no chances. No risks. Everything you did would be calculated. Programmed. Fake. Insincere. And while you may have the strongest feelings in the world for whomever you are talking to, your intentions are immediately compromised when you already know the answer. So what's the fun in that? If there's never any risk, there's never any reason to 'jump, and hope to God you can fly.' That vulnerability is everything. Vulnerability is a good thing. It's what keeps us human. And keeps us alive. That's why I live.

The other main issue is related, but now delves into the movie a bit more. So to spoiler the movie for you, Mel Gibson falls for Helen Hunt because he gets to see the real her by listening to thoughts that no one else gets to hear. And she falls for him because he 'learns' how much of an asshole he was and becomes a new man. All sounds good right? Well what a sham that relationship is based on. He wooed her because he could read her mind. And she wooed him because she showed a side of herself that no one would have ever seen. What kind of crock of shit is that? THAT is what a relationship needs to be based on? That is true love?? Soul mates??

People get to see what you show. You get to see what people show. The rest is a game. The right game pulls on cords of passion, joy, frustration, determination, sacrifice, and ultimate success. That's what living does. And this is one game where I don't want the cheat codes.

Saying Goodbye

It appears I didn't find my way to posting last night, so like a good writer, I am sacrificing my lunch hour to write. That is my penance...

Saying goodbye can be hard. [Insert lengthy rambling description of what kind of goodbyes there are and what makes them hard or sad or relieving] But you already know that.

Whether unfair or unexpected or unwelcome, goodbyes get a bad rap. rep? rap. So I'm here to clear their records. All of em. The lot of em. They're all getting pardoned. By me.

You know that old phrase about if you close one door you open another? The exact same analogy can be applied to goodbyes. The formulas are I-Dentical.

Not to sound too harsh to the departed, but their exit announces an new opening. don't call it a void. or a gap. call it new real estate. This will help spin your mind around to the positive.

Not that any of our lives are full right now, to the point where we can't add anyone else... and whoever is reading this, don't you say 'oh but mine is. i have everyone i need and there's no room for new people.' Bull. You can always add more. but sometimes it's nice to keep those numbers where there are, subbing in someone new. someone else that gets to positively impact your life. Isn't that what living is all about? I say it is. Positively impacting other people's lives.

In addition! Stop looking at goodbyes as a sad occurrence. They should make you remember the times you shared and brighten your mood. There are plenty of people I have said goodbye to who no longer occupy rooms in the hotel that is my life. But goodbyes have an innate ability to let you forget about the sub-par. Those little pesky memories that muddle all the good stuff, they gone! When it comes time for someone to leave your life, whether it for five minutes or forever, it allows you to focus on the things worth remembering. And isn't that what counts?

So this light-spirited post was an attempt to lessen the negativeness that is associated with saying goodbye. But honestly, saying goodbye sucks. It's only until later that you realize the good that can come. So for now, do your best to appreciate the moment for everything it is and hope that saying goodbye isn't the last thing you say.

Goodbye.

Food Critic

So Chicago has some pretty lofty credentials in the food world. I know this because I watch Anthony Bourdain. We have some legitimate pull. Our chefs rank high on the charts, and we are close to New York for the best food city in the country. I live in this city. I reside here. I spend my night life on the streets that boast this fine honor.

So where am I going for dinner tonight? The C.O.'s of Chicago. The trash-fancy bar that has sparkly leather seats and a padded (thing underneath the bar the your knees hit when you sit there). Sorry, there was no official way to say that. But, I am going to this guilty pleasure of a bar tonight for their Wednesday night deal: $3 flat bread pizzas and $1 Miller Lite bottles.

I have been there for this deal several times. Almost double digits. I've had every kind of flat bread pizza they have. I have never been disappointed. I always leave full. I always enjoy the meal. It's everything I need. And I would recommend it to anyone. Seriously.

Now I've been to some nice places and eaten some pricey and tasty food. It's nice to get out sometime and splurge on food I normally wouldn't eat. I like it. I don't love it, I like it.

This has all got me thinking... obviously. As it goes with most things, the more you get a feel for the higher level, the more the bottom of the chain looks worthless. So the more you get a taste of the top of the food chain, the more the average food looks inedible. So the more caviar you eat, the less you enjoy a hearty dish of easy mac. The more foi gras you dabble in, you spend a little less time in the frozen food section. The more mountain oysters you slurp down, the less you can tolerate hot pockets. Scratch that, no one should enjoy hot pockets. But you get my drift.

I am extremely pleased that cheap and filling makes me just as happy as any meal I can imagine. I don't mind that I don't have elite taste buds. Who the hell really wants to eat snail eggs? Seriously. Seriously. Tell me if you do. Leave a comment. Send a note. by all means.

My Perspective

We all know that we all 'perceive' things differently. I see things in a different way than anyone else, and same goes for you. No one else feels the exact same way about anything. Even if you love something so much that you can't live without it, there are an infinite amount of ways that love can be expressed. It's not repeated. It is 100% unique, every time.

But that's not really what I'm talking about.

So I have a friend that is color blind. I have more than one friend that is color blind. In fact, over 10% of all males can't see colors. Females, a lot less. We asked how can he tell which street light is which when he's driving. He knows that the white looking light, is actually the green one. So to him, white and green are pretty much the same color. That means that he has no idea what green is. His mind cannot comprehend it. There is nothing in his existence that can ever prove to him what the color green looks like. The color green will never survive in his world. And that color is just one of many.

So that got me thinking. (hence the post). What if nobody sees anything the same way? Run with me for a while. And now you think about that. What if nobody sees anything the same way? If my color blind friend can't see the difference between green and white, then maybe there's more than just colors, and more than just for color blind folk. He struggles with elements of the rainbow, but what if I have trouble with seeing cars. or people. or faces. or hair styles. or animals. or environments. or a-ny-thing. So it's not just a few things here or there. Not just the weight of someone's personality overshadowing their exterior. Not just outside influences or preconceived notions or the way we were raised, but what if our eyes saw people in a different focus than anyone else, if our ears heard music at a different tone, if we felt textures with different hands.

There's some proof to back either side of this argument, but I don't really care to find the science behind it. So if you went into every situation believing that the person you are talking to does not see the same thing in the same way, you might be a little more cautious.

I'm sorry, this idea is kind of blowing my mind and I'm struggling to find my thoughts.

If no one sees things like you, then opinions would become rather trivial. How can you argue that julia roberts is better looking than natalie portman in Closer if we are looking at different people? Maybe when I see natalie portman, I see intriguing perfection, while you see awkward homelyness. I know we all have different opinions on the same things, which would imply we 'see things differently,' but I'm trying really hard to distinguish between having different opinions, and physically seeing different things. My friend doesn't think green is an ugly color to wear because he doesn't think it accents his eyes, he thinks it's an ugly color because it looks bland and emotionless.

So maybe we shouldn't put so much stock into what we see and hear and feel and taste. We all have different physical bodies. Our senses all differ. None of us know by how much. But what you can trust is how people treat you. If you get to the point where trust is established, whether through convesation or physical comfort, then put your confidence in that. Use that to fall asleep to. To come out of hiding for. To live for.

What if nobody sees anything the same way? What does that say about our world?

My Return

So after my four day hiatus for the tournament, I am back to writing form. Kinda. The past four days have provided me a slew of topics and ideas and perspectives and stories. There's been some drama, some ridiculousness, some things to take comfort in, and some things that still continue to confuse me. There were missed opportunities, and opportunities that were taken. There was extensive conversation, excessive basketball, and impressive nights with impressive people. I have so much to think about and so much to say. So many people to talk to and so many questions to ask. I have more on my plate than I am accustomed to. And for right now, after getting my monday fix of dramatic television, I don't have the words to convey what I need to. And maybe this isn't the medium I need to use. So while I am looking forward to finding my stroke tomorrow, tonight has left me with more questions than answers, more problems than solutions, and more thoughts than actions. Should make for an interesting night's rest. Hope the train's a quiet one tonight, I need the rest..

Tournament Time

On the eve of the kickoff of the greatest sports event in America, I thought I would share some of my sports intellect. The commonly debated topic in regards to this event is trying to identify what we are truly drawn to. What entices us. What gets us checking scores every five minutes for back to back to back to back 12 hour spans. What disrupts our work flow to intersperse conversation between coworkers. What inspires us to find a reason to watch. And I think I know my reason.

Obviously, if Illinois is in the tourney, I'm routing for them, and watching every game they play. But, like last year, there are times when my alma mater doesn't fit into the field of 65, so there has to be something. And I think there is.

Some people like to watch for upsets. They like to see the possibility of a 14 or 15 seed playing the Cinderella roll of spoiler for a fan favorite to win it all. And who doesn't?

Some people like to see the general idea of a 65 team, single elimination, win and stay, lose and go home tournament. There is drama in every game. Every possession. Every shot.

Some people like to see if their picks will prevail, offering bragging rights to anyone they come in contact with. Bragging matters.

And while these things all matter to me, and I enjoy them with the rest of the world, that is not where I find my tournament attraction. Want to know why I'm drawn to the best event in American sports?

It's the passion. Over 700 players and coaches leave everything they have on the courts in hopes of glory. It's a cool feeling. Single elimination is part of it, but a single elimination tournament at the beginning of the season wouldn't be as enticing. Upsets happen throughout the year. Everyone is just guessing at their tourney picks anyway. But the passion is the fire that heats this postseason masterpiece. And as my astrological symbol explained, when I find something that I deem the truth, no one can convince me otherwise. So have fun with that.

I am Libra, Hear Me.... Balance

Bear with me for a bit as I copy some quotes from a very reputable website in regards to my astrological sign, with my italics highlighting interesting notes:

• They have good critical faculty and are able to stand back and look impartially at matters which call for an impartial judgment to be made on them.
• They do not tolerate argument from anyone who challenges their opinions, for once they have reached a conclusion, its truth seems to them self-evident.
• Their characters are on the whole balanced, diplomatic and even tempered.
• Librans are sensitive to the needs of others.
• They loathe cruelty, viciousness and vulgarity and detest conflict between people, so they do their best to cooperate and compromise with everyone around them, and their ideal for their own circle and for society as a whole is unity.
• They have good perception and observation and their critical ability, with which they are able to view their own efforts as well as those of others, gives their work integrity.
• In their personal relationships they show understanding of the other person's point of view, trying to resolve any differences by compromise, and are often willing to allow claims against themselves to be settled to their own disadvantage rather than spoil a relationship.
• They can be changeable and indecisive, impatient of routine, colorlessly conventional and timid, easygoing to the point of inertia, seldom angry when circumstances demand a show of annoyance at least; and yet Librans can shock everyone around them with sudden storms of rage.
• With their dislike of extremes they make good diplomats.

So should I put a little more stock in astrology? This is about half of the passage I was reading, but really, there are some pretty spot on descriptions of who I am and the way I live my life. And it's starting to make a little sense.

I mean, the symbol for Libra, the least cool of all the astrological signs, is a scale representing balance. How has no one pointed out the correlation between the scales of Libra, and everything I write in this damn thing. I can't get away from seeing balance, and the 'other' point of view, and maybe it's because the stars won't let me. Maybe the constellations are the ones that are force feeding thoughts through my mind. Or maybe the gravitational pull that the universe creates is what controls my mind to shove in thoughts that I didn't think I was thinking. Or something.

Maybe after all these years believing I was the navigator of my own accord, I was actually following a path that was laid out for me zillions of years ago. Is it possible that astrology can be responsible for who I am, who I've become, and how I've gotten here? I didn't read any of the bull when I was younger, so it's not like I ended up shaping myself to become the words that I read so long ago, proving it to be right. So what's the explanation?

This might finally be my solution, my guiding light, my mentor that I always needed... I may be on the verge of something big here. After all, completely rejecting something based on principal alone isn't part of my personality tool box. Just ask my old friend carrying that scale. He knows what's up.

And who cares if I don't have a cool lion or scorpion to metaphorical represent my astrological identity. The balance scale is almost perfect enough for me to ignore my detestation of extremes and revel in my own starry image. How have I not noticed this before? This could be the breakthrough.

Or maybe I don't need to listen to incinerating masses of gas, most of which don't currently exist based on how long it takes for their light to reach us, that can supposedly determine who I should end up with, how I should feel, and how I should react to situations based on the month I was born.

"Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I've ever known."

Not the combined effort of 35 stars hovering in the night sky.

Thought Stampede

So last night was an interesting night. Got to bed at a pretty reasonable hour. At my count, I was pretty tired. Didn't really feel I would have any problems. Imagined I would be refreshed and raring to go on a Monday, something I don't always get to experience.

I was wrong.

In bed for 7.5 hours. Asleep for barely more than an hour. I was caught somewhere between unable to get comfortable and unable to stop my thoughts from trucking through my brain. This is the excuse I am using for writing a shortened post. But let's see where this goes.

So the inability to get comfortable is hard to pinpoint. I can't explain it. I was tired. I was looking forward to laying down in bed. But nothing I did, no matter how or where I laid, nothing felt good. And so I never seemed to fall asleep.

The second part of the equation is what I'm more interested in. The whole thoughts thing. The whole constant stream of mind-buzzing thoughts. Some of them were by choice, I can admit. Some things were worth mulling over while I slumbered. Yeah I just wrote slumbered. I was sick of writing the same words over and over again, deal with it. So while some of the ideas and people and conversations and movies that crossed my mind were intentional, there was a slew of hectic mess than swirled my slightly unconscious mind. Are we able to control our own thoughts? I understand when we're dreaming that we don't have control of our thoughts. That kinda makes sense to me. But when we're awake, or at least not asleep, shouldn't we have a stronger ability to filter the things that plague us?

Is there part of our mind that can overtake preference? Would it let thoughts get through that could ultimately be damaging? Can this explain why sometimes, you can't sleep at night? Can the uncontrolled masses get past our own forced thoughts to keep our mind as restless as our body appears? Was there any way I didn't end this post with a question?

[Just a thought tangent, no picture of inspiration]

Who's Watching the Watchmen?

This weekend I sat through the 2 hours and 45 minutes of The Watchmen. There won't be any spoilers in this, so if you really want to see it, and haven't yet, I won't be ruining anything for you. As if I was worried about that.

So I had limited expectations going into this movie. This is usually a good thing. I have made claim that going to the movies usually doesn't turn out well, since you end up going to see a movie you want to see, thereby holding the movie in a higher light with higher expectations, ultimately giving the movie a lesser chance of impressing you. The movies that I have walked into with zero expectations have continued to impress me. See also: Pirates of the Caribbean, Little Miss Sunshine, Love Actually. The movies that I was excited to see and hoped for the greatest movie ever, disappointed me. See also: Happy Feet, The Last Kiss, Wicker Park (i didn't see it in the theaters, but still relevant for me). Only exception: The Dark Knight. All of that being said, this movie didn't have very high expectations to live up to. And it still didn't quite make it...

There were some things that I enjoyed. The movie takes place in an alternate history United States where a group of 'superheroes' emerges in the 1940s and again in the 1960s, helping the U.S. win the Vietnam War. This interests me. It was cool seeing how the writers think the world would have played out if certain events went differently in history. It was interesting to see what events changed, and what events are considered inevitable.

The whole basis of the movie also interests me. It was meant to deconstruct the superhero concept. I like the idea of deconstructing something idealistic. Exploring 'the other side of the equation' in this case means showing the dark side of a publicly idolized figured. This was also famously done in The Dark Knight Returns graphic novel, as I have come to learn, but the Watchmen was another take on this idea. It follows a group that was not always accepted by the people. I like that.

Finally, it appears in my post-viewing reading, the movie followed the original graphic novel to a tee. There is some controversy involving the original creators and the movie creators, but as far as plot, imagery, tone, character depictions, and any other aspect of what I have come to know, this movie is pretty spot on.

So those broad ideas impressed me. Not much else did. It was overly gruesome. Unnecessary male nudity, including the ever-present glowing blue member. A brutal attempted rape scene. An unstructured plot with a jumbled feeling. Interesting choices of soundtrack that sometimes brought a comical feel to something far from a comedy. And the thing was 162 minutes long.

So overall, this movie did not strike a very fond cord with me, and will not get any recommendations from me. But for those of us that watch Entourage, and know who Sloan's friend Tori is, well then you might want to rent this sometime.

Continuations

I want to keep exploring this, so I've picked it back up. I was just watching Rock Star. They play the song "We All Die Young." This has added a new wrinkle, a reason enough to dive into another cliche. This will be punctuated, so if you have somewhere to go, don't worry, you won't be late.

So I just spent my last post talking about how the length of life shouldn't matter, its all about experiencing the things that fill your life with happiness. 20, 40, 120 years... a full life is up to you.

But Steel Dragon says we all die young. So who's right? If we all die young, then that would mean we never have enough time to fill our lives with enough happiness to die without regret.

I happen to think I'm smarter than a cliche, so I'm going to say I'm right. But I know as well as anyone that this isn't about who's right or wrong, or who has figured out the answer. The point is that there are so many different ways to look at something, especially something as fluid as life. This is not a new idea for me, but I'm excited to be able to bring so many different topics back to the same general idea. When something is on your mind too much, you start to see it everywhere. It affects your daily thought process. It can piss you off, or bring you peace. So make sure your obsessive thought is a good one, you never know when it's your last.

[I am ruining this 1 picture a post thing]

Living a Full Life

So, everyone loves modern medicine, right? Life-saving, life-altering, life-lengthening medicine that uses all of these advances in science and technology, studies and research, testing and experiments, to preserve the constantly abused human body and mind. Tablets of miracle and injections of phenomenon get lined up and put down faster than keystone light in college. So what's the result of all of this?

People always talk about 'living a full life.' But I think that living a full life is a.) a relative term and b.) subject to interpretation.

a.) What was the definition of living a full life in the 1700s? The 1400s? They considered 45 years+ living a full life. That was what they were used to. As time has passed on, and we keep thinking and inventing, obviously we live quite a bit longer now. Life expectancy is up at 70 these days. And its up closer to 80 for those kids born yesterday. Who's to say it won't be even longer in the future? What if someone invents the immortality pill. What's the 'full life' then? People argue that everyone deserves to live a full life, but with a constantly changing number, shouldn't it be up to the human body to determine how long you should live?

b.) 'A full life.' I keep coming back to this term. My thoughts aren't completely formulated on it, but my gut feeling is that it's what you do during your life that makes it full, not how long you lived. Many people want to live to see their kids grow old, but plenty of people never had kids and still lived a full life. Some people think that you need to travel to different countries, experience different cultures, meet as many people as you can, fall in love, whatever, and they believe that thing is what will make your life full and complete. It could be more simple than that. Is my life full right now, since I've established loving relationships with people that I truly care about, I've enjoyed so much of my time here, and experienced, what I feel, is a lot... does that mean my life is full? Well for 23 years, I'd say yeah. And it may not be a tragedy if I died tomorrow.

The point of a.) and b.) has gotten off topic. My initial thought was a sort of brash and harsh thought of the general idea, 'survival of the fittest.' I was thinking about the emotionless way of living, of not helping others, of letting your own instincts and your own decisions guide you through your life. And if you're not smart enough or strong enough to figure it out, then guess what? You're not gonna get very far.

And while there is logic there that I believe in, there's no way that I can contradict my general way of life. My length of fuse varies so much throughout the day, but deep down, I have a pretty innate desire to help people. I believe strongly in compassion. In honesty. In generosity. And in doing whatever I can to make others happy, maybe one day leaving a little of that happiness for myself.

So chalk it up to another batch of my dichotomous self. (I really hope that's a word) Put this last rant somewhere between I have no idea what I'm talking about and I have two strong opinions that are complete opposites. But that wouldn't be me if it wasn't. Writing often tells the truth. My fingertips know more about me than my mind. Sometimes it just takes the medium to figure that out. This one definitely started in lane 1 and crossed in lane 8, but I'm strangely okay with that. At least it was real. At least it was honest. Is that all that matters?

[No Picture Necessary]