I realized today my desire to write has little to do with enlightenment, self-exploration, truth-seeking, etc.. The epiphany instead pointed in another direction, my sheer desire to store my reality, to record each second and fractured fraction there-of. My terror and utter disappointment that as each moment flitters by, I'll not only never capture it again, but never share it with another soul. No words, no feelings, no images, rhymes, reasons, virtual or tangible will ever convey the omnipresent and completely indefinable essence of what can only be recorded as crude memories chiseled temporarily in a few pounds of grey matter... Pain or pleasure, hope or fear, excitement or monotony... They alll have their place. They all have their season, dwindling and fading, crumbling into frozen frames, forgotten like the decaying DNA of long dead titans.
I realize my passion is no less than to never forget, and to never be forgotten. I grow older. I change. I tire. I find at times to weary to continue, to hopeless to endure, and yet I do. I continue. I endure. I thrive, and I want nothing less to go on forever, dying, hurting, hoping, seeking, crying out and laughing at the absurdity and innocence of it all... If there is nothing else, then let me proceed through the nothing and past the void. Let me find it only when there is nothing else left to find.
It is possible that "I'm Sorry" may be the most powerful words in any language. They are a concession of blame. They are a recognition of transgression. They are a validation of emotions, ideals, and worth. They can curtail resentment when used properly. They can weaken integrity if used flippantly or appeasingly. To know how and when to use these words requires only common sense. To use them when and how they should be used requires strength of character. To fail to do so displays a combination of insensitivity and/or pride.
Some may think it childish, may say it is unimportant, but the facts are to the contrary. People die in the absence of simple apologies. Wars have been, are being, and will be fought because these words were not said... or because they were not said in time.
Should the Catholic church apologize to the children molested by its priests? Should the Japanese apologize to the Chinese for atrocities commited during the war? Should Americans apologize to their own African-American citizens for the half-life their ancestors were allowed to live and for the resulting generations of poverty, inequality, and hardships? The Germans to the Jews? Israel to Palestine? Palestine to Israel? Is it too late? Is it meaningless? Is it unimportant?
Are tensions too high and things too far gone in these situations that apologies are trite and useless? Even if so, shouldn't the words be said anyway?
Some say that it's never too late to apologize. Yes, it is true that often an apology is not enough. However, the neccesity, power and importance of this step in the process of atonement should not be overlooked, because, when omitted, it devalues other efforts to quell residual angers and resentments.
Simply put, the words "I'm sorry" mean this: "What happened to you was wrong. It should not have happened. I understand and respect your suffering and accept responsibility for it. I will do my best to fix the resulting damage. I will try to make ammends, and when I have done that, I will do everything in my power to ensure that it does not happen again."
An inability to express these words indicates the opposite. What is more, going on as though nothing has happened will further insult the afflicted party, showing a lack of sensitivity or care for the pain caused. To try to fix things in action alone without first directly and clearly accepting responsibility sends mixed messages and will result in high tensions, hostility and resentment, and an inevitable lack of resolution.
Many people are waiting for apologies. Alone, in dark places, angry and bitter, distrustful of those who have offended them, afraid of what the morning willl bring. An apology may not heal the world, but at the very least, it can help begin the process.
Shutting Down and Signing Off - The last words of Fragilebob
Dec 6th, 2008
This will be my last entry. I've decided to stop publicly blogging. My blogs of late have become little more than emotional rants resultig from real world misery and they have been ignored at that, so I'd rather keep it all inside than publicly broadcast it and be openly snubbed...
In a lot of ways, I guess I'm giving up. I just don't trust anyone to properly care, or to care enough to take care of me anyway... not in the way that I need it, and I'm too proud to be treated as an inconvenience or just simply ignored...
So fucking depressing... in this big wide world, I just cant win. All I wanted was someone who cared enough to return the same energy I poured outward, someone I could rely on. I just want to speak to someone and be understood and taken care of... Childish dreams die hard I guess...
This won't just be my last blog. This will be my last open-wound emo display of honest self. So if I have emotions, and you wan't too know about them, you'll just have to read my fucking mind. Pearls before swine, not anymore...
sigh...
cry...
I'll be writing novels. It will be my only vent to release my utter frustration, melancholy amazement, blissful awe, and celebration of the strange and morbid that make up this intolerable universe. If you have been a commenter previously, and if I feel like it, I'll send you a chapter occasionally. Don't worry. I'll abstract it all enough to ensure no one has to apply it to me personally. Care and action won't be needed... well, they won't be asked for at least.
For those of you who don't know, Proposition 8 passed in California, taking away the right for gay couples to be married. My sister's marriage is in danger of being disolved under this new legislation. We are going to demonstrate downtown tomorrow. I'll post pictures as soon as I can.
Below is Brian Obermann's commentary on this sad states of affairs. I just saw this on Cici's blog and had to repost it.
I talked with Cici yesterday, like I said before. She and her new boyfriend have a sort of long distance relationship. One of them has to do some travelling for them to be together on the weekends.
She told me that, during the time they've been together, she's done more traveling than he has, and it's starting to feel unfair. She's feeling she's putting more effort and care into the relationship than he is. She feels he doesn't care as much as she does.
I told her I understood. I said, so wha do you want to do, give him less care so you don't resent him later?
She said no. She told me she didn't want to give less, she wanted all or nothing. Not some bullshit half-assed relationship.
I completely agreed, nodded my head and said exactly. I said, "so, you have to talk to him."
She said, "the way I see it, I can give less or I can talk to him and try to get him to understand me and try harder. But I don't want to do either. I want 100% and I don't want to talk to him about it. If it doesn't get fixed, I'd rather just leave him."
I totally disagreed with this. All I could say was, "wow..." I could understand it though. It's scary to share your feelings with someone. It's hard to trust them to understand you. It's hard to be vulnerable like that, because then they have the power to fix it or hurt you. You give up all the power and open your heart to them. It takes alot of trust and faith that they will treat you right, and if they don't... it can leave you in a really bad place...
But still, I said, you should talk to him, you should trust that he's mature enough and responsible enough to work it out with you. He souds like a good guy, and I'm sure he'll try to understand you and he'll bend over backwards if he has to to make sure you feel better.
I went on and told her how I knew that Em and I could work anything out, that between us, we would do our best to understand each other.
But sadly, I have told Em how I've felt these days, as we just went through a situation that surprised and disappointed me. She was... less than receptive, and in the end punished me for sharing my feelings, for being upset... And now, I don't know what to do except give less and care less... I love her. I don't want to lose her, and everytime I'm out, I miss her. I go out and see a movie, and everything reminds me of her, or I talk with a friend, and everything melts away and I just miss her and wish she was there. All my anger and resentment disolve into nothing and I just remembered her eyes, her lips her arms around me, the sweet way she would touch me so gently, and so caringly in her sleep. And I'd almost weep, just feeling happy and lucky to have her in my life. And I am. I am lucky...
But then I'd go home, I'd go online, see her msn, see her facebook, kaixin, and just feel alone and angry. Feel that it just wasn't enough, that it wasn't fair, that she was being careless... and I'd be distant when she talked to me, like she owed me a better apology, a better explanantion, and at least keep me up to date on te things that were going on that she knew I would be emotional about... and I'd get mad at her... All I want to do is tell her I love her, hold her and forget everything, but I just want this shit understood and resolved first... I don't know if I'm crazy...
I still believe we'll get through it. I still believe it will be resolved, and for the most part its the small stuff. But a great man once said, "it's the small stuff that makes up life." Maybe I'm wrong, maybe she's right. But we'll get through it. In a few months, I know it'll be as if it never happened... It's just hard to remember that in the heat of the moment... I'm sorry for that Em. I love you.
I don't know if any of you as readers have had the dishonor of being in this position, but I've been there many times. A "secret boyfriend," for those of you who don't know, is when you are in a relationship, and for whatever reason, your significant other keeps you a secret, apart from her life.
This is probably one of the most painful and unsafe positions to be in, relationship-wise. While you are a secret, no one will care if you disappear, no one will ask your lover about you, no one will support or critique your relationship, and so there is no pressure on your significant other to defend, keep, or ackowledge you at all. In fact, your love may even become ashamed of you, because they have kept you a secret. But thats a chicken and egg dilemma already; did they hide you because they wer ashamed of you or are they ashamed of you because they hid you?
The feeling of being a secret signifcant other is exciting at first, for a moment. But when you begin to feel serious about you lover, when you want to feel safe in their life and their arms, you want to shout your love to the world, and in turn you want them to shout their love for you to the world too. When they don't, or won't... well, there is no worse feeling on god's green earth.
Unrequited love, unrequited action, unrequited words, these things can destroy a man, drive him to obsession and despair, and eventually just drive him away...
He will question your love. He will question your commitment. He will seek reason, justification. Like a pea in an otherwise perfect mattress, it will keep him awake at night inspiring him to ponder questions, "are you ashamed of me? Are you not serious about me? Is our love so weak that it can be overcome by the judgement of others? How can you care so little for my thoughts and feelings, for my feeling of security, for my need for safety? What am I to you? Who's feelings come before mine in your life? Why do you hide me? "
And in this case, these questions, well, they are reasonable. Do not react with anger if your lover asks you these things. Instead, ask yourself why they feel this way. Am I doing something to hurt my love? Am I neglecting them?
I personally have had experience with this recently. I was going to see my ex on a vacation. The last time we had met, we were broken up, but still maintained a closeness more than common friendship. My current girlfriend, the love of my life, knew I would be thousands of miles away and in close proximity with my previous lover. She said nothing, but carried the weight of fear in her heart, letting it eat her up, afraid to mention it for fear that I would dismiss it.
I wish she had just told me, because in my carelessness, I didn't see it right away. And in the time between when she began to worry and the time when I realized it, she had already suffered much anxiety. I wish she had just told me. If she had just trusted me to be understanding and responsive, been more open... but that is another topic.
Anyway, I saw the hurt in her, the fear and the worry, partly because I looked for it and partly because it had sat long enough inside her that it was beginning to obviously manifest on her brow and in her eyes. And I asked her if she was worried about me and my ex spending time together. She shyed, and on the verge of tears, nodded yes.
I looked into her pain-filled eyes and reassured her, "Oh, baby. I love you." I took her in my arms and held her. As I did so, I realized I had not told my ex about her, or at least not the depth of our relationship. And I thought how much that must have bothered her too, and so as I always believed a good partner must, I vocalized my thoughts.
I told her what I had just realized, and that I was sorry. I told her that I guessed I had been hesitent to tell my ex, because she was probably expecting to have a romantic and sweet time like we had had last time we met in the same place. And as I said it, I realized that I had protected the feelings of someone else at the cost of the feelings of the one I loved, and I apologized for that as well...
I held her and assured her that next time I talked to my ex, before I went on the trip, I would tell her of the new situation, I would let her know it couldn't be the same as before, because I was in love, deeply in love with someone wonderful and caring and perfect.
I knew it wouldn't be easy. Or at least I feared it wouldn't be easy. I was afraid my ex would react badly, that it would cause a difficult and awkward situation, but I did what I said I would do. In fact, the conversation went much better than I had supposed. My ex accepted the news not only graciously but blessed our new love, and said that she knew it would happen eventually. The words were sweet and reassuring, but often words are used to protect, and actions are often more honest.
As thought, more of the reaction did come out in arguments and tiffs and passive aggressive resentment during the trip, and it was difficult at times, but nothing great comes at no price. The week of fighting and awkwardness was a small price to pay for my true love's peace of mind, and I truly believe it did set her mind at rest. And I know I did the right thing.
I should add here that my ex also tried her best through gritted and bitter teeth to make the week go well. I believe she had no choice in the matter. Under even the worst of cirumstances, any person would find it hard to hate or fight against someone when that person is resolved to do what is right for the one they love.
Anyway, back to the questions, "are you ashamed of me? Are you not serious about me? Is our love so weak that it can be overcome by the judgement of others? How can you care so little for my thoughts and feelings, for my feeling of security, for my need for safety? What am I to you? Who's feelings comes before mine in your life?" and the big one "Why do you hide me... "
They will remain until they have no reason to be asked, and the longer they remain, the more damage will be done. When a mind is left to obsess without resolution or comfort, the obsession will remain long after the solution has applied.
Had I not done right by my new love, she would have carried the pain longer. She would have grown more distant. She would have remained doubtful and fearful and mistrusting long after the situation finally resolved. And it would have been my own fault. Thankfully, in this case, that was not the result.
I tell this story not to boast, because I have had equally as many follies as the next man. I tell it as an example of something I did right, which I hope will inspire others. I have learned in my time, good and bad, through trial and error, what is important in a relationship, and nothing comes before the feelings of the one you love.
My advice: Do not be secretive with your love. Don't be ashamed of your circumstances. Don't pussyfoot around people who may not understand. This is love, there is nothing more noble or true. If you hide it, you not only give cause for others to attack it, but also reason for your loved one to doubt and fear and wallow.
Tell the world and tell them proudly. As well as the big things, do the little things you can to make your other half feel safe. For the most part, it costs you little to nothing and will mean the world to them. Be there for them as they need you, and trust them enough to tell them what you need. There should be no price too high when it comes to the happiness of your love. There should be no secrets which can destroy it.
~~~~~~~~~~
No matter how fertile the soil in your garden of love, if you sew the seeds of doubt and hesitence, the weeds of resentment and fear will sprout. You must tend your garden carefully, planting seeds of faith and understanding, humility and compromise, pulling the weeds of fear and pride. It will be hard at times. It will take backbreaking work and sacrifice. You will suffer difficulty and pain. But at every step, you will see your garden growing, giving back to you what you have put in. And in the end, as you see your love reach its true fruition, you will have known it had been worth it.
Its been a few hours since my last post. I just had diner with Cici. At first, I was just pissed off and venting about what had happened today. The lie, and the distancing and the guarding. She tried to be subjective, had some good input and some bad. At the send of it she asked me, "So, are you rethinking the relationship?"
That annoyed me. She didn't get it. I didn't answer.
Instead I asked her to talk about something else. SHe talked about her and her new boyfriend's relationship, and some of the things they were going through. It all sounded very familiar, like the typical growing pains of an adolescent love affair, which a I realized was the same thing Em and I were going through. We talked alot, and at the end of it I felt alot better, like the world was right again. The piddly shit didnt seem to matter and I just thought of Em and felt good, confident, peaceful.
And so, after hours of chatting, I decided to offer her an answer to her earlier question. And, Em, if you're reading this entry, this is the one I want you to always remember.
I told her, "Y'know, I do trust Emily." I had a smile in my heart, an air of pure confidence with no hint of arrogance while I said this. "No matter where she goes or what she does, even if she tells me a stupid lie about something, or goes somewhere where something really bad could happen, I feel safe with her. I know that she tell me the truth eventually, and I know she really cares about me, and she'll do the right thing."
Cici smiled.
I continued, "I'm really not worried at all that our relationship will end, or that I'll leave her. I'm just afraid of suffering through the nonsense."
"Mmmm," cici smirked.
"I mean, I know she and I could get through anything. I know that we can talk and resolve whatever problems we have, and that no matter what, we would do whatever it takes to work it out... You know, I really love her," I explained.
"I can really tell that," Cici said.
And I really do, Em. I know that no matter what, despite all this silly little bullshit, we'll be ok. It doesn't mean I like the bullshit, It doesn't mean its ok, even though Cici suggested that it was a good growing experience for us to understand each other better.:P But all I know is I love you, Em, I always will, and I believe in you. I do trust you. I've never felt safer. And I know I'll do whatever it takes to work things out with you, and I believ you'll do the same. You've shown me alot of that already. I hope you read this and can feel what I'm feeling; peaceful, relaxed, and confident, no fear at all.
Anyway, there's alot more to tell, alot more Cici and I talked about, thoughts I had on the drive home, things about the baggage I think both of us carried into this relationship from our previous relationships, but I think I'd rather just chat with you about it later. I'm kinda tired, just wanna sleep.
Besides, I'm still mad at you for being a butthead, so I'm gonna wait for you to contact me. ;)
I love you, mt. :*
I just posted and read back over the last entry. I won't take it down, but I'll admit the mockery was over the top. I do love this person, this really great person, which is why when she gives 99 percent, its such a load of crap. That one percent is dangling over my head just out of reach.
I can't give 99 percent, nor would I want to. Because I really do believe that "whatever you do, you should do it with passion." Do it completely or not at all because if you withhold anything, the result is going to suffer much more than than what you withheld.
She withholds piddly shit just to maintain independence, just to show she is not completely with me, and for what? To sabatoge the realtionship?
Its put best in an old song, "If you love me, why can't you just show me?"
I'm so fucking tired of being lied to. And I'm tired of half-assed bullshit.
Hi, I just lied to you. You should trust me. And I'm going to get angry and punish you for being angry at me and for not trusting me after I lied to you. I'll distance myself from you for sharing your feelings with me and expecting me to care. And I'll pout and say you're pushing me when you try to forgive me and have some resolution.
I guess I'm four years old and as manipulative and proud as every other shanghainese asshole. I want an ideal relationship, but I don't much feel like trying to be ideal. And if you criticize me or offer your feelings, I'll just give up and walk away and say asshole things like "maybe someone else is better for you" to show that my love is conditional and to show how much I don't really care about you and scare you into doing what I say.
You want attention? Oh, no. Not in a relationship. That's too hard. You want honesty? God! Why would you want honesty? You want mutual respect? Errr, do i have to? You want sweetness? Ew, gross... Actually, its ok if you give me these things, but I don't really want to give them to you. Or how about this, I'll give them occasionally and then take them back to drive you completely insane :D
That's my vent. And I deserve to have it. And yes, its jerky and exaggerative, but damn it, I'm pissed off.
It is truly is juvenile to have a power struggle in a romantic relationship. There is no reason not to dote on your significant other, especially if they want you to. They are after all, the one person who you should be able to trust completely and be able to be vulnerable in front of.
You show your trust by giving them your energy and sweetness and kindness and knowing they will return it, by being honest with them and knowing they will support you and love you, by relying on them to help you through hard emotional times and celebrating with you in the good emotional times.
You show your love by not holding back, by not distancing yourself, by putting them first when they need your sweetness and kindness, honesty, and reliance in sad times and joyful.
In the shit normal world, yes, sometimes you keep distance from people and tell some lies and don;t show your true self, but not even there should much of that be done. If you find yourself living this way, then you must be surrounded by a poor quality circle of friends. Either that or you are a poor quality person. Just like drugs, alcohol, casual relationships, being distant, guarded, or uncommunicative is a kind of escape from reality and a really bad habit. Its not what good relationships are made of.
Question: Can an angry ex-boyfriend cancel my girlfriends tourist visa if his name was on the application form as the person to visit?
I'm American. My girlfriend, who is Chinese, has a multiple entry tourist visa which expires in feb of 2009. When she applied for this Visa, she was engaged to another American and used his name, address, and phone numbers on her visa application form. (boxes 24 and 25 - "At what address will you stay in the U.S.?" and "Name and telephone numbers of person in the U.S. you will be saying with or visiting for tourism or business."
Since then, they have ended their relationship and she and I have started ours. Her visa is still valid and unused. I have bought her round-trip plane tickets to come and stay with my parents and I for the holidays. She should be traveling here in the next 10 days.
Her ex-fiance got wind of her plans and got angry. He has threatened to have her visa canceled so that she cannot make the trip.
My question is, can he cancel her visa or have her visa canceled, what can we do to prevent it, and what repercussions would it have if she got on the plane, landed in America, and found out at immigration that her visa was not good?
Immigration Lawyer's Answer
The visitor's visa is hers and he cannot cancel it. If the visa has been issued, it is unlikely that this will ever come up, although she will always need to enter the US in accordance with the rules for B1/B2 admissions.
Overall, I would not worry about the angry ex-boyfriend from an immigration law perspective.
****************
It seemed like just an empty threat at first, but the ex has been harrassing my girlfriend with emailed threats, guilt trips, and updates in his asshole crusade to thwart her plans to travel to the states, claiming he was "protecting his parents" and "she lied to him to get his information." He goes on saying "she should be grateful and she never would have gotten the visa without him."
This is for the sad, sad, little man...
A) Without you, she would have gotten her visa with me, buddy. The fact that she trusted you to put your name on her application was her only mistake. And the fact you betrayed her trust proved that you were never worth it.
B) All the information she asked from you was standard information to get a visa. You know it, and I know it. I gave the same information for my ex to get her visa, so lay off your "she cheated me out of personal information" charade.
C) Everyone knows you aren't "protecting your parents" and that you aren't "sorry." Your an ass, plain and simple and want revenge. You can't control something, so you want to destroy it.
I once felt bad for you, thought you were in a bad situation. I knew you weren't an ideal human being, but I thought that honesty and straight-forwardness should be preserved at all costs. But now I know exactly what you are. You are the worst kind of manipulator, the saddest kind of pathetic. No one should ever be honest with you because you are the kind of person who takes every chance to take advantage of good people. Before she met you, she never would have done anything to anyone the way she had to do it to you. You forced her to. You taught her to. You ruined her, and only by running away from you will she ever find center again.
If you actually find solace in an "investigator" humoring your impotent attempts to take away some freedom and happiness from someone you once claimed you loved, then I truly have no words or pity left for you.
Its lucky for both of us that, even though you were old enough to be her father, she is mature enough to be your mother. Otherwise, your sad attempts at vengeance might do more than just push you and she further apart. Even through all this, she has tried to protect your feelings and your life. She has done her best to make sure that you weren't publicly embarrassed, that you had proper time to recover and let your friends know what happened before she publicly moved on, and all this at the cost of her happiness and her future.
Personally, I think she makes a bad choice, but I support her through it. Without a doubt, you don't deserve it. I hope you find humility before you die even older and more alone than you already are. Continue this way and I think even my angel's pity will run out.
For a second, I forgot how hurt I was. How mad I was.
For a second.
I can't do anything these days.
Don't even want to get out of bed.
Maybe you're scared.
Maybe you're confused.
I talked with Mom, asked her if I could ever forgive you.
If he wasn't involved, I'd understand alot more.
But all I feel is fear.
I don't want to post this.
You're already protecting him, lying to him, leading him on.
Giving him hope.
Are you doing the same to me?
I promised that I'd understand, that I'd support you.
I promised I'd let you be free if you needed to be.
It tears my apart.
But I am doing my best.
It's so hard baby.
I wonder would you do the same for me.
Two voices in my head
She's lying to you, hiding things from you.
She doesn't care about you or your relationship.
It's only going to end in your pain and her being just
another girl who is too damaged to understand what love is.
The romance is dying with every step she takes.
The end is inevitable, just give up.
She is not just another girl.
This is my Em. She is your fairy, your elf, your angel.
This is the one who makes sense, who fits you and loves you.
She wears your shirt. She keeps your mummy on her phone.
She writes a blog just for you.
She's told her mom, she's told her friends.
Then she hides it again. Hides it from him.
Tries to please him at the cost of you and her.
They were together for two years.
Its not so easy to just break it off. She just feels guilty.
She did him wrong. She is ashamed to admit it.
She feels she owes him something.
Thats exactly the problem.
She shouldn't feel guilty for falling in love.
She's ruining us for him, for something that's over.
It should be a clean break, and she knows it,
but she's gonna lose everything because
she won't make her own choices.
She should be strong for you.
She should have faith in you.
Do you love her?
Yes.
Then what can you do? Leave her?
I don't know.
I promised her I never would.
It hurts. It hurts alot.
Be strong for her now.
She's scared.
She's confused.
She'll be strong for you later.
She's been strong for you before.
It's so hard. :'(
Be a man. No, be her man.
Be what she needs.
You know she loves you.
I'm trying...
Hard to get out of bed...
Hard to do the things I want to do for us...
Nov 2nd, 2008
(this should be read while listening to Glascow Love Theme from the movie soundtrack
on repeat )
Love, actually...
...is the strongest thing in ths world. It can bind men, blind them, destroy them, and torture them by simply doing nothing.
But when love leads to action, it is stronger yet. It creates the greatest masterpieces, inspires the noblest deeds, and fills the weakest of bodies with strength, the loneliest of souls with hope and the emptiest of hearts with bliss.
Love, actually...
... is the only thing worth fighting for and the best thing worth dying for.Any sacrifice, any tears, any choice not made for love is a wasted sacrifice, tear, or choice.
There is nothing in this world that should turn your head from love and there is nothing in this world that can turn your heart from love.
Love actually...
...is the true and simple meaning of life. No other purpose can compare, romantically or practically. There are forces beyond understanding in this world of science, magic, and emotion where everything is destined to change and die. But love, no matter how you spin it, carries on. It remains when all else withers. It succeeds when logic fails. It creates when hate destroys. It is selfless in a materialistic world. It nurtures. It breathes. It asks only for you to do what is right, while so much else pushes you to do wrong.
Love actually...
... is what I feel for you. It tears me apart and I would have it no other way. Every chance I get, I throw my head back, look into the sky and smile and thank god or the universe or truth or beauty or whatever love actually is for bringing you into my life.
But its always a pellet or a sunflower seed or nothing at all.
I miss the smell of your neck.
I miss the taste of your lips.
I miss holding your hand, pinky and thumb.
I miss your smile
I miss your smile...
I can't function like this.
I want to paint.
I want to write.
I want to nest and create and grow and smile and be worriless.
I cant do it while I don't know.
The night is the hardest time.
Alone in this bed.
Only the laptop to keep me warm.
I'm so mad at you.
Feel you're spitting on the greatest gift anyone could ever have.
I try to be strong.
I try to pretend it doesnt matter.
I try to not care.
But I fear an entire life of this indecision and hesitence.
It would utterly destroy me.
The simplest choices, if not made... they make themselves... and the results are not pretty... the results of neglect
It's like when you're late, but a thousand times worse. I know you understand that. I sit and wait, unable to live, unable to plan...
So many false starts, false hopes...
Yesterday was better.
The thing is, through it all, I really do believe we'll be ok.
I have a smug and inexplicable confidence in us.
We'll have a long and happy life together. We will have a long and happy life together :)
Even when I hate you, even when you're an idiot...
And you are an idiot :*
Even when I think I won't ever trust you again,
There is still something deep which says, "this is it."
And you do redeem yourself, and that helps. And you do believe it too, I can read you like a book.
And in the end, you are beautiful and wise and thinking and careful, and I panic too quickly. Its natural and justified, my panic. But I should be better than natural.
I understand your hesitence, and I weigh it, and try to justify it.
I know you don't want to regret or wonder. I hope you understand it as well as I do. I wish you could express it more directly. I am your friend. You have to be more confident. I know you prepared for something else, but this is the reality.
I feel arrogant and foolish, afraid to believe in you, afraid not to.
And so I do go on, here, building the life I would live if you were in it.
Because I do have faith. I pray every second that its not just denial, hoping its not just a sickness in my mind.
I wanted to write a happy blog.
I had all the words in my mind when I was on the plane.
You weren't next to me, but I knew you were with me.
When the plane was falling and people were screaming all around me, all I could think was,
"I can't die. We havent made babies yet. We havent had out family. We havent made our life. We havent changed the world. I have too much to live for."
But the times of security are too short. I lift my pen to write a beautiful fairy tale, and I receive deflating news...
That has to change. It will change... And you'll tell me, "I'm sorry. I dont know why I ever doubted. I'm sorry I hurt us like that."
This is what mean when I say my eggs are in your basket.
They'll hatch into alot of things, important and beautiful, dreams and aspirations, things which will fill my life with purpose and hope and joy. Writing, dancing, laughing, changing the world, making a home.
Maybe I could hatch them alone, but they wouldnt be the same. They wouldn't have the same love, the same strength.
They would be sickly, they would be pale shadows of what they could be, twisted and forgotten, changed like a child with a parent jaded and distracted, without love of their own, raised to reject his own heart.
Maybe I should say, my eggs are in our basket.
I want to hatch your eggs too, baby. Help you make them be the strongest they can be.
I want them to hatch with you. In my heart or my soul, or whatever pathetic cliche I'm forced to use, I know they are supposed to hatch with you.
Talked with mom today. She said, "People think that love makes things easier. It doesn't, but it makes things worthwhile."
The following was sent to me by a self-proclaimed female non-sexist...
Whatever you give a woman, she's going to multiply.
If you give her sperm, she'll give you a baby.
If you give her a house, she'll give you a home.
If you give her groceries, she'll give you a meal.
If you give her a smile, she'll give you her heart.
She multiplies and enlarges what is given to her.
So - if you give her crap,
you will receive more shit than any one human being can handle
Love and appreciate all the women in your life.
What does it mean? What was the intention? My mind boggles...
Theories:
A) Women are only good for sex, making babies, keeping a home, cooking dinner, are easily charmed and swayed by a simple smile, and overreact causing explosive escalation in bad situations.
B) Men can't make babies, cant keep a home, and can't cook, but should provide sperm, housing, and bring home the bacon, while fearing pissing off women who may become emotional and overreact. And then men should be thankful and appreciative that they are allowed in the presence of such greatness.
C) Women are not responsible for anything they do. They are only results of what men do to them. Like a fleshy amplifier, put something in and it comes out bigger. Such a wonderful tool should be treasured.
D) Women are powerful and great...
So... what are men? Don't love and appreciate men? All I know is that when you start a sentence with, "Women are something," you are basically saying, "men are not." Why are we using the word "women", and not "people?" Why would a person who is not sexist separate the sexes so blatantly and proclaim superiority.
Line 2 I find inoffensive, except that it's not always true either, is it, pointless, but inoffensive. Fact is she'll keep the baby, not give it to you but, yeah, ok, whatever...
Was the real message here that...
I personally should treasure women, because I'm a man? I'm not lucky or good enough to have been born with a vagina, breasts, or eggs, so I should realize my station, live a half-life serving the opposite sex, begging for attention, worshipping the ground they walk on, fearing their god-like wrath, being careful not to show my feelings or emotions as it might offend them, accept any damage they do to me physically, mentally, or emotionally as my own fault or the fault of my fellow second-class sub-species and prostrate myself at each whim and belief they randomly (only to my weak male mind) base their perfectly god-blessed and righteous lives upon.
Fragilebob: I wonder sometimes if women know how stupid they are. Men aren't born bad and many men try to be nice guys but then women only reward the absolute worst behavior, so men become assholes. And then women complain that men are assholes! It makes me want to rip my fucking hair out, poor gasoline on it, and start a fire I can burn myself in.
Moron-Child-Girl: Why do you say that?!
Fragilebob: Cause it's true.
Moron-Child-Girl: I don't agree with you
Fragilebob: Then your eyes are closed.
Prove me wrong.
I could be nice to you 'til hell froze over and you'd just avoid me and never talk to me because you would think I was fake. But if I was an asshole, if I said stupid and terrible things, if I got pissed off, you might even try to rescue me.
And thats the bullshit of it all. I am about the nicest f'ing guy you'll ever meet, but you would never know it til I lost my mind.
Maybe im talking to the wrong person.
But I need to vent.
I am losing my mind
I watch people
So simple and pathetic, and they dont even know it.
They hide behind pride, saying "its not true", saying "I dont believe that."
just so they dont ever have to think about it
Maybe its not everyone
But its almost everyone
Moron-Child-Girl: I’m sorry, I don't have to listen to what you say.
Fragilebob: So very kind and understanding of you.
Then go live your life.
Let the good people descend into madness.
Its not your responsibility.
Moron-Child-Girl: Maybe you told some truth but I don't wanna know and I have to go to sleep.
Fragilebob: Now I wanna throw up...
...................................
I was put in the dark, and kept in the dark, and left in the dark, and will die in the dark. I thought I had guardians. I thought I had faith, and so the predictable thing happens; everything evaporates and I'm falling through the cloud of myst that was so solid ten seconds before.
This is the curse of believing in anything, of caring about anything, of being sober for half a second. This is the thanks of being dependable, the rest of the world will never keep up. This is the result of being kind, you will be the first to spend all your energy. This is what happens when you try, you suffer the world judging and sneering at your pitiful failures.
I just watched Vanilla Sky with a wonderful girl asleep in my arms. This is the kind of girl who makes you happy even when she's sleeping, sweet with her unconscious touch, aware of your mood, your comfort, your needs without opening an eye.
This is the first time I've written here about someone other than what I have deemed the current acceptable focus of my existence... the ramifications scare me, the audience is a part of my life, and their reactions, especially at this delicate time could unravel and undo everything I have hoped to accomplish... and I care, I care very much if that happens... it could destroy me.
This girl, a wonderful girl. Do I love her? I don't know. It doesn't matter.
I respect her. I find her fascinating and odd, open to things again like some others I have had the pleasure of meeting these days, but this one has no ability to fake the knowledge or understanding of the reality under realities, hidden by the careful mind, and yet she displays it so elegantly.
I imagine her to be alien, from a planet not too distant from that of my godfriend, not only in spirit and sense and empathy, but in physical being as well. These women, built long and strange, beautiful and haunting, strong and delicate, are not from this place. Devils, angels maybe, but not of this world.
I envy them. I am at most a hybrid, a giraffe, plagued by real world problems while trying to transcend the limits of human existence and the filters of acceptable perception. I feel lucky, honored, to have them touch my life, focus their energies upon me in such vigorous and flattering form. In some reality, I must be a tragically sensitive and self-deprecating penitent god, prone to bouts of self-induced amnesia and self-banishment to other planes of existence.
And they are here, tourists or saviors, employees or worshipers, mothers and sisters, fellow gods saving me in my delicate time on the brink of madness... I am with them and I know it can't exist, this reality. It is too perfect and too terrible all at once. Only when I am about to break do I find sudden salvation. Only when I am on the verge of contentment does the world fall apart. And with each cycle, the extremes, the limits are pushed further and further, coinciding with convenient physical plots and devices which can explain it all logically away.
She is laying behind me now... watching me, with eyes closed, breathing slow and mouth barely open... Perhaps I have stumbled on to a truth which she is here to prevent. Perhaps I will turn to find her open mouthed, fangs elongated, in mid-strike with the mission to save the rest of the cognitors in this reality from contemplating my uploaded thoughts. And then, maybe she is there to do nothing, nothing at all, to convince me yet again that such fantasy does not exist...
Or maybe she is here to guide me home, open my mind to re-find my immortality, possibly one of many with the shared purpose to bring me back.
But I am not ready. I have not exhausted this universe...
She flinched when I just wrote that...
And it's not true, and she knows it. I am tired, I do want to go home to that tragic and sad eternity. This one is difficult and senseless. But I also want to go on, maybe because I don't believe there is any alternative, maybe because I, as a perfectionist, must fix this place, or maybe... maybe because I found something I can't leave behind...
Missing pieces to myself are here on this plane. One I call little giraffe. I should explain, fellow giraffe...
Just before I began this entry, I wrote to her through Messenger:
"vanilla sky...
am i frozen?
are you dead?
life seems unreal without you"
Perhaps a bit trite and unfitting at the end of this entry, but they felt perfect 30 minutes ago.
Still, I know what they mean. They mean, "I love you." They mean, "I am afraid." They mean nothing that I could ever express in this English, an imperfect and overused language, where, if one were honest, one could never say "I love you" to different people because, though it could be completely true, it would never mean the same thing between any two different coupled souls...
But so I love, and I love, and I love... and so on... I play by the rules, my rules, the rules of respect and balance, discretion and sincerity. Even though I feel the emotion often, I am not irresponsible with these words. I save them for only the most exceptional of cases. I hold them like fire in my blood, and only when my veins are torn and hemorrhaging a red viscous steam do I allow myself to gently whisper the holy phrase...
"I love you..."
But for you, my little giraffe, my purpose, my reason, my anchor to this plane... you... you are one of my missing pieces... and, for you, these words could never be enough.
When I was 17, I asked my first girlfriend to burn her old love letters from her old boyfriend. She didn't really want to, but I asked her to anyway. We burned them in her bedroom. Her bedspread caught fire.
The fire didn't get out of control, but I think back... How stupid and insecure I was... and I stole her memories, burned her treasured past for my own insecurities. I think its one of the worst things I ever did.
Becca, I'm sorry. I wish I could get those letters back for you. I regretted that for a long time.
But I don't need to do that anymore. Not like that. Sure I want the time from the one I love. I want their respect and their honesty, but that's enough, I don't need to own them. In fact, I don't want to own them.
Its too easy to own someone, to control them. I would feel no accomplishment. I would feel there was no real emotion. I see everyone else controlling each other, men controlling women with money, women men with sex, both controlling each other with guilt and tradition or religion.
I just want to be loved as I love. I want my love to know she could freely walk out of my life with no financial or societal problems, and that I would support her in following her heart no matter where she went. I would want her to know that and still come home to me everyday because she loves me, because there's nowhere else she'd rather be, because our home is where her heart is. That is what a successful relationship is.
Can't sleep. Just watched a movie called 'The Weatherman' starring Nicholas Cage.
Nicholas Cage... He's really popular here in China. But the locals say his name rebuilt from chinese characters, so they sound like robotic "special" olympians when they say it.
He's been quite an influence in my life actually, seems to always follow me through some means or another. From my first to my last, every one of my girlfriends has thought he was "really handsome" or "really sexy." Despite that, I like him alot myself actually. He's got the look of a man with a good soul. He makes good movies. He seems like a nice guy.
How sad would it be if in real life, he were a dick... Oh well, maybe I'll meet im someday and find out.
Anyway, his movies often touch me... for whatever reason. And tonight, I watched "The Weatherman."
Adult life is not easy, you have to work hard to make it work.
The right thing and the hard thing are usually the same.
Sometimes you have to chuck the shit in life.
Life didn't turn out how I expected.
At the end all that was left was me.
Now word for word, I can't say I agree with all of it precisely. I guess people see what they want to see in things, and I took hope away from this, some reaffirmation, and a bit of guidance. This is how I translated it - Life will change. To some degree, you can direct it, but it wont be easy, it will take hard work, and the result won't be exactly what you expected. But if you try hard, you can still make something good out of the unexpected mess.
I have a god friend... god... is that a typo? I have a good friend. She is not closed to the other side like most. A few minutes after I had my disparriaging conversation yesterday, she sent me a message.
"I feel you unhappy now, by intuition, are you ok?"
Her english isn't perfect, but her meaning is clear. She's not in the city, and she's dealing with her own pain, but still she reached out, at a time I was crumbling. She knew I was crumbling, from thousands of miles away. This is a good person. A part of me believes her abilities are those any of us can have, but most of us ignore.
So like most of us, in support of good people, I didn't respond... I didn't have the energy.
'I don't have the energy'... God...That phrase... Its like a plague, this darkness. From one person to another, quick and slow and timeless and ancient. I heard those words last night. They were the words that destroyed me, those syllables dripping with apathy and sloth, more destructive than any man-made weapon could ever be... and I inherited them and used them after cursing my giraffe for uttering them to me...
Anyway, my friend wrote again, "Good night, bob. hope you are ok."
A few hours later, I wrote back, "Thanks, godfriend. Goodnight."
She wished me a good morning today as well. Again I wrote back sluggishly, "
Today, 4:48 pm
"Just had a nightmare. You are crying in my dream. Are you ok, bob? I feel you are unhappy now really." she pegged me again. I have been in denial all day. I think she knows my destiny better than I, or at least as well... I think she feels when I give up and let fate creep into my life. I think I have made a mistake.
I told the giraffe I gave up. I broke down and I blew up. I said a lot of things, true but callous. And it was her strength I was supposed to be. She is in a hard place, harder than I can say here.
"Its time to for me to be proactive, for me to be supportive. If destiny was easy, if everything was clear, then the result would be no true reward.
I am sorry, little giraffe. I am here if you need me. I do not give up. I will support you silently if need be. I still believe. I always will, even if I don't want to. This is real life. It is difficult and it is hard, and everything may not turn out as expected, but it is worth fighting for, and it is worth living for. Don't give up, little giraffe. Make the right choice this week. I can't know what that choice is, but I think you do. The right path starts with the right step. Choose a direction and find your destiny, but don't stop walking.
Its amazing what music can do. Its amazing what a kiss can create. Its amazing, the power of embrace. I smile a bit. I laugh a little. The world is still crumbling, but I wait patiently and catch the beautiful pieces as they fall. perhaps it is only hysteria.
Some things prove themselves to be a waste of time... nothing can be proven forever.
Some things are lost while waiting for nothing... nothing can be lost forever.
Fate is the result of all things if will is not exerted.
Destiny is the perfect conclusion.
Fate is for the lazy and tragic.
Destiny is for those of diligence and faith in whatever you call that noble path.
Is destiny common? Can one who believes in fate destroy another's destiny? Can one who believes in it change the fate of others?
Why do I always choose the wrong car, the wrong job, the wrong woman, the wrong life?
I had a talk with mama giraffe tonight. It has inspired me, inpired me to give up. "It's real life." Apparently the only way to fix anything is to do nothing. If you arent happy, just accept it and make sure happiness stays out of reach.
I'm going downstairs to by a few bottles of Brandy. Maybe when I wake up, the world will be different.
Maybe I won't wake up at all. Either one is fine with me.
I've not been very clear about the direction that my life has taken these days, always talking in riddles, cryptically at all times if possible. There is rhyme to my reason. No, take that, reverse it.
I have found a sort of happiness I haven't know since I was just a kid. I fell into a triangle, deep and tangled and wonderful.
Baby, Myself, Mama
The first time I saw either of them, I saw them both together. Ironically, I remember thinking, "I want them both."
And here I must censor myself. I have written this story fully and deeply, but discretion must be maintained for the purpose of protecting the safety of another less romantic reality. This message is for those involved, and for those who know the story.
Suffice it to say, one of them understands everything and one of them can't possibly because she hasn't been allowed to. For the one who is lost, I just want to say, I am sorry. I would love to tell you everything. I wish I could. Deep in my soul, I do believe disclosure is the inevitable end of everything. But for now, for good reasons or bad, or reasons outside my control, you are in the dark. Just know my feelings for you are deep and inexplicable. Dreams of contentment and a happy and peaceful life for our small and magical world plague me, creating an impossible standard for any other way of living. You are not second or third, you truly are part of a larger something that even I don't understand. Please don't fear it. Don't distrust us. I long to know you better, more deeply. I fear that chance will be squandered through inaction or the practice of being safe and conventional.
To expect anyone on the outside to understand seems hopeless. Such an odd relationship, such a strange state of affairs. However, surprisingly, the support of the masses is there. There has not been one person who's ear I have told the tale to who didn't understand fully. It is as if there is some divine aura surrounding this island of beauty in a world of chaos. In fact, others have come to me, told me that they have dreamt of our future and confessed to knowing its beauty, and they have come to me before I have told them... with precognition and clarity. Of course I protect the identities of the two that complete me, a sad neccesity in this sad and fear-filled place, but I find more and more, I believe more and more, that that neccesity is an illusion, one which will fade.
It is a time of wonder in this, my small life. I have found once again I believe in reason, in purpose, in fate and destiny. All I can do is pray that this manifests into what it should become, that path with heart, the path of truth, and not what the impurity of reality, jealousy, fear, and practicality might twist it into. For this I work hard. For us, I work hard. For we three, I fight a deafening silent fight. I believe with a furious faith.
I dwell on my hand. The double love-line in particular. I know who they are, the shining beacons in my empty life.
I spent my youth collecting knowledge, looking for love, seeking understanding while they planned and scrimped and saved and followed. I have my freedom and my ideals, but they have a future and a family. I know better, but what is my knowledge without actualization? What is freedom without hope? What are ideals without a child to teach them to?
My eyes are... I don't know how to say it... There's a lump in my throat, but its behind my eyes.
I find hope in small things. My horoscope for yesterday was -
"Don't resist the direction you are being pulled toward. It is important to experience people, places and things if you want to make improvements. An old partner or friend will want to reestablish a position in your life."
The direction in my life...
Jaden sent me a message yesterday. The first time in a very long time... Partner from my past...
WHat is the direction in my life? I am afraid of it. I know it in my heart of hearts. I've been serious about startign a shop, a head shop in Shanghai, making some money, having some financial stability.
And the reason is what scares me, the reason is love. Like a sad little boy, I'm dreaming of the perfect woman and our life together. Creating a home and a small paradise for us to live in domestic bliss. I have fought against this cliche for so long that I'm afraid to change. I'm afraid she won't love what I become. I'm afraid I won't love what I become...
I know s he's worth it. I am inspired to change and a part of me has accepted it for it is reasonable and romantic. Another condolence is my hand.
I dwell on my hand alot these days, especially the double love-line. I know who they are. They are the shining beacons in my empty life. Are they the demon sirens in my black sea or are they the warrior angels in my pit of lions?
There is no great achievement that is not the result of patient working and waiting.
- J. G. Holland
Waiting and hoping are the whole of life, and as soon as a dream is realized it is destroyed.
-
Gian Carlo Menotti
Waiting is a trap. There will always be reasons to wait. The truth is, there are only two things in life, reasons and results, and reasons simply don't count.
-
Robert Anthony
Every second I spend alone is a second unshared, unmemorialized, unspecial, unknown, undesired, unresultant, ungratifying. Every film I watch, every word I write, every book I read, every thought I have, every inch I grow in the darkness of seclusion does nothing more than separate me further from the rest of the world, from those I love, from those I want to melt with.
Or am I just arrogant to believe that the waiting world is falling behind? Are we in fact reaching the same goal along different paths... but if so, why is this path so painful? Why is my path one of unfullfilled desire? Why is anyone's? I know the difference between good and bad, so what remains the point in suffering?
I taught today that often results are the same, that it is the way we achieve those results that is important. Why then are there so many good ways to fail? How much of human life is lost in waiting? Why, in pain, is every second is an eternity? Why, in bliss, does time slip away so easily?
My lover swore she would leave me if I hurt myself. I have taken to drinking these days... alot. In my most desparate moments, I choose this escape more and more often.
I tend to care less and less. I never see her, and when I do, its muted and dull. It's safe and distant and worrysome. I feel like an ex-husband in prison who she reluctantly comes to visit just for appearances, to ease her own conscience, and to ensure I don't lose all hope and do something stupid.
Part of me knows I'm wrong. She tells me I'm wrong, and she says it with words sweet and genuine and convincing. But part of me knows I'm right, too. And that part laps up the patronizing glances like dew from the spines of a mid-desert cactus, but with such a bittersweet taste and so little nourishment that all my desires are withering into nothing.
I fantasize about Leaving Shanghai in Las Vegas style, through self-neglect and too much alcohol. I've been reluctant to address medical problems. It's difficult enough as it is, always having to ask someone for help. I always need a sherpa to go to the hospital. But these days, I don't want anyone's help. I don't want it because I don't feel alive and I don't feel worthy.
If she doesnt want to help me, then why should anyone else? What is the inherent value in a person's life if the people who love them the most only patronize them? So I feel stupid to ask anyone, and I feel unable to return the kindness they give to me, too empty and too hopeless to effulge any comfort or glow that I once was able to give.
They tell me I look tired. Everyone tells me I look tired. I look different. I look something. They say it with a mournful disdain, disappointment seething out of every syllable. Never a kind word, at least not between the lines. I can see it in their eyes which are afraid to connect with the black holes in my face which once used to shine with a passionate radiance. They are thinking, "Where is this Bob who used to hold me? Where is this Bob who used to give me strength and inspiration?"
And I know its true. I am more and more pitiful. I try to be happy. I try to find reasons and rhymes and energy from the people who once gave me hope, but I'm too far gone. And they see me coming, like a vulture looking for scraps, ready to devour a soul to keep myself alive. I'm obvious and borish.
So, things go unattended. Important? Maybe... We'll see... If I end up Leaving Shanghai, I guess they were important...
Carlos Castaneda wrote a series of novels about life and magic and the unseen world and knowledge. Sadly, only one I have read. This one, 'The teachings of Don Juan, A Yaqui Way of Knowledge,' has changed my life profoundly, given me strength, opened my mind, and reaffirmed the rhyme of the world I had always felt ringing in my soul.
With enthusiasm and heart, I shared these lessons and ideas with the people I loved, with those I thought needed it, and those who were open to it. I thought myself a sort of Ancient Mariner.
I lost hope... a few days ago. I lost hope, and the one who was supposed to give it to me, the center of my attentions, the target of my affection, was the most discouraging of all...
I resolved to become everything I despised, everything that was easy, everything that was empty. I would become an unadultered liar and manipulator, a man of money and material, taking and cheating and smiling until I had everything I wanted.
I know it was a childish thought, but it was mine, and I owned it. If I had to continue living in the world of nonsense and hopelessness, and I could not commit physical suicide (and trust me the thought had occurred to me, I'll elaborate in another log), then I would kill my soul.
Upon these epiphanies, my lover tortured me, give and taking hope, yo-yoing me. She is in a difficult place. Part of me blames her for her weakness, part of me can't. Regardless, the effect was large and small, leaving me more hopeful and more hopeless.
I logged onto MSN. I often choose to live virtually when I don't want to live in reality. I saw May, my ex-girlfriend and still good friend, one of the few who I can still rely on to help me in a bind, was online.
I read her tagline, and it was this: "As Don Juan taught, the path with heart should be followed."
The line by itself seems a bit cheesy, but the philosophy and the depth of knowledge, worldly and spiritual, behind this phrase make it an obvious and powerful choice when making your way through life.
Call it Karma. Call it social progress. Call it luck or fate or whatever you like. I am not without pain. I am not without fear, but now I do have purpose and some amount of faith growing in my blue soul. Those words that I had given to May so long ago came back to me, and gave me strength.
In this country of yore, the style of life mimics that which many Americans could only read in classic novels and see in sepia adaptations. Shakespeare's words here are alive and well and have yet to be impacted the way that they have been in the West becoming resultant cliche despite their truth and beauty.
I recently happened across Shakespeare's Sonnet 36, and its parallels to my own archaic and tragic world pierced me like an arrow through my chest...
Let me confess that we two must be twain,
Although our undivided loves are one:
So shall those blots that do with me remain
Without thy help by me be borne alone.
In our two loves there is but one respect,
Though in our lives a separable spite,
Which though it alter not love's sole effect,
Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight.
I may not evermore acknowledge thee,
Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame,
Nor thou with public kindness honour me,
Unless thou take that honour from thy name:
But do not so; I love thee in such sort
As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report.
In some places, for some generations, this is still the world. Particularly here and now. But this world is changing. These situation is escapable and changeable... Nothing is impossible...
This is my world, too. This is where I live. This is how I exist. I do not have it easier. I do not have the luxury of sitting aside ignoring or misunderstanding the sad and romantic nuances or coldly observing the pain as though it were a scientific experiment. I am in the thick and tangled mess of it. It is beautiful and horrible.
My only advantages are a western spirit, an ego of megalomaniac proportions, and a stubborness rivaled only by my romantic idealism. My disadvantages are discouraging, but each has a name.
I always felt I should change the world, and I have found that world which I shall change.
There was a time I asked this question. I would guess there was a time we all did. The longer I go on the more obvious it becomes. Life is tiresome.
You are born happy, you learn and grow and question and reason, observe and interact. Eventually, there is nothing left. The world is full and empty, full of hope and opportunity, like a game, a game to keep you interested, to tease you and create adversity and intrigue. But it's a game that can't be won. It's a sorrowful and tedious joke that the masses fall victim to. The rules ever-fluctuating, rules of reality and rules of the heart divering from laws created by jealous and greedy men thousands of years before we were ever brought onto the field.
"Here's a taste of bliss," says the devil.
"Go on," says God. "Try to keep it."
And then they snicker and laugh together as they watch you jump and leap and struggle through a infinite number of meaningless hoops, all the while your soul is starving, body weakening, and will failing.
I am tired of the game, and I wish it were as simple as blaming God, but in fact, it is still man I have contempt and pity for. I am discouraged. I am demoralized. I am exhausted and bored.
People are stupid and afraid. I'm in love with someone... Someone seemingly impossible to be with, and yet I try anyway. It's a tough world. Nothing great ever came easy, so I'm working hard for what I want, for what I need, for what I found to be good and right. I dont delude myself into thinking it could be perfect, but there are moments of perfection, and these persist under far from perfect circumstances. So I push on, in hopes of improving circumstances, logically and illogically, and foremostly, honestly.
Sometimes I think people see it as a disease, honesty. They look at me dumbfounded, with a hint of disgust in their upcurled lip. Some just become sad. Tell me that they wish I hadn't told them that. Some act aloof, then try to convince me to follow another direction for my own good. I have found that only a few of those who have experienced a similar situation are supportive, and even then, I'm rarely supported.
Princess Beris Kandauroff wrote in 'The Art of Living', "Don't give advice unless specifically asked for." Bravo, you old pretentious beast. I quite agree. I cant count the number of times someone wants to guide me or adjust my path or critique my decision. Now, to be honest, I've always claimed I keep friends for just that purpose, to keep me in check. And its still true, but I'm tired of getting advice on things that people have had no experience with or know absolutely nothing about.
I'm sorry if I smashed any dreams. I'm sorry if I have a little less time. I do care. I care deeply for the people around me, and I won't abandon any of you. I know you're afraid, some for yourselves and some for me, and some of you are just disappointed. I know its hard to understand. It would be hard for me to understand if my friend told me the same thing. I know my situation is taboo. I'm a star-crossed lover. I dont know exactly what will happen, but I'm keeping the faith and walking the path, and this is important to me. I will lose friends for this, but I have already accepted that. So on this one, please, just support me, ok?
I imagine someone will care... No, I hope someone will care.
It's a purely narcissistic and futile exercise. I had two days of happiness finally in my life, and that's all I'll ever have. What I have to look forward to is the disappointment of an unromantic world shitting on my soul until my body fails and the last bit of hope and energy is released into nothingness.
I hate her... I hate her from the depths of my black and shriveled heart. She gave me comfort. She gave me security. She gave me hope. She made me believe the world wasn't a cruel joke. For a moment I thought there was a God. I thanked him for beating me in the head with a chair, for putting me through all the pain and misery that I had previously and preciously suffered, that I might meet her, the crazy married woman with pizza and ramen noodles.
I look back now and see how stupid I was. She had been hurt, and was looking for comfort, justification, justice. I was a tool, nothing more.
I knew it then, but at some point I forgot. At some point, I looked into her eyes and felt love, felt happiness. It wasn't love for me... She was everything I always needed. She was my mother. She was my equal. She was my child.
I wanted to marry her, but it was impossible... She already had a family... So I settled for fleeting moments... I lived my life, just as she had hers, and it was interesting and full because at the end of each day, I felt safe. I felt secure in the knowledge that at the end of each day, she felt safe and felt secure in the knowledge that at the end of each day, I felt safe, I felt secure in the knowledge that...
She was first. Above everything else. She still is...
I saw an episode of "My Name Is Earl" yesterday. He was in a coma, and while in his coma, he dreamt of a perfect life, married to the woman he was in love with. I saw them together, perfect and happy in cheesy cliche, and my heart ached.
I panicked the panic that only a soul can when it feels bliss slipping away forever. I sent her a message... :'(
I'm sick, but I don't care. I am in pain, but I don't care. I am alone, but I don't care. I have admirers, but I don't care. Words are trite, and this I care about, because no matter how many words I write, no matter how many things I paint, nothing can ever express the joy of the love I felt or the dull agony left in the pit of my stomache. The words are as removed and abstracted as watching a xerox of a photograph of a rainbow on a cathode-ray black and white television with bad reception.
She gave me a child. A beautiful sweet free child. A child of art and talent, tainted by the stink of materialism, but all children are. I loved the child too. We three played together, a family, unlike any other. I felt myself like a child again, five years old, with a bag on my head, playing hide and seek in a dark and warm home, full of mystery and comfort, safe and unknown, an unfathomable paradox in the adult mind.
I dreamt of our family, literally. I dreamt I married the child, and that mother would come and visit us, and we would play together forever. There was nothing sick or strange about it. My love for both was pure...
I told my giraffe, and she told me our baby had the same dream long ago... The ping of fate struck my soul... Is this real then!? Have I finally found my place!? Have I got a reason to go on? The excitement filled me like an overripe water balloon! Ecstasy, intrigue, safety, hope, all mine!
She told me our daughter was getting married, that our family would be broken, that I must hurry... I panicked and burst, emotions gushing out explosively in all directions, uncontrollable and with no direction. My daughter didn't understand, or understood all too well.
So we waited, waited for mother to return... to return and take everything away.
I hate her... I hate her from the depths of my black and shriveled heart. She gave me comfort. She gave me security. She gave me hope. She made me believe the world wasn't a cruel joke. But she abandoned me. She took away everything I always needed. She took away my mother. She took away my equal. She took away my child.
The last remnants of hope I had in the world are dying. It is the deepest and quietest pain I have ever felt. Every word I have told you was true, mama.
I am panic. I am fear. The world is perfectly known and utterly terrifying.
"What can I do for you? I really wish you could be happy."
I wish I could be happy too, secret wife. I wish we could be happy. Give me back my family.
Some take the high and mighty road, claiming that the lack of expletives in their speech makes them better and more discerning than other people. I say it just makes them calculating and soulless.
Some claim that it is better to be rational than emotional, that to deny your feelings is the road to enlightenment. I say that is he least rational load of shit I could possibly imagine.
You are an animal. I am an animal. To deny you have emotions is illogical and absurd. To pretend you are not governed by said emotions is to turn a blind eye to your own biases and nature, leaving you more and more controllable by the associated weaknesses.
My growing disgust for this country comes from the lack of it's people's self-understanding and their complete inability to objectively view anything. Constant regurgitation of ideas and concepts spouted at them since youth is what they believe enligtenment is. Money is the only goal. Security has become the complacency found in sitting on toilet carved from the bones of their brothers, painted with the blood of their mothers, dropping excrement into the mouths of their fathers and daughters is enlightenment.
I've never seen a people so proud to be a joke
I thought Americans were loud til I came to China
I thought Americans were rude til I came to China
I thought Americans were selfish til I came to China
I thought Americans were heartless til I came to China
I'll go back in a body-bag. There's no escape from stupidity and cruelty. The whole fucking thing is ridiculous.
It scared me. Made me feel mortal. My dog died a few years ago of something that looked very much the same. I panicked. I wanted to live. I called Maymay, she's the only one in town I trust to take care of me. Asked her if she was free to take me to the hospital today. Before she answered, I remembered she was busy, asked her to take me on Monday.
I been waiting two weeks, dreaming of the woman I loved. Writing messages, letters, poems, collecting music, fantasizing of the romantic return. Someone said she'd be back on Monday.
I got a message this evening. It was her. She said she wanted to end it. She said she didn't even want to see me again, that I should forget her. She told me I had alot of admirers. She said I won't be lonely.
I found a lump in my mouth this morning. I can't see it through the tears. I feel too immortal. I'm so tired.
Someone said the will to live is important in fighting disease... I'm so tired of fighting... What if life is the disease...
The following conversation was dated July 3rd, 2008 at about 8PM
Queen of Rain
if you have died, see God, he says you able to have a chance becomes any one kind animal, you want what to become?
Fragilebob
when i was young i always sad a tiger or lion or leaopord
but maybe a dog is good
i want to play and sleep and eat and be petted all day
:)
you?
Queen of Rain
ok now, you have died, second see god, he says you able to have a chance becomes any one kind animal, you want what to become?
Fragilebob
eagle or hawk
why?
Queen of Rain
ok you have died, third see god, He said you can have unique chance to become any one kind animal, make this animal and forever, what unable to have changed again, that you think of to have become?
Fragilebob
a human
or maybe a giraffe...
too hard
Queen of Rain
hahhaah, not human, only animal
Fragilebob
hum-animal
i dont know...
a vampire
are you god?
im afraid to answer this question
maybe you will change me
:$
Queen of Rain
vampire?
i dont chang you
Fragilebob
sucks blood and lives forever
Queen of Rain
say one kind animal
thinking?
Fragilebob
ugh...
so hard
Queen of Rain
one game
Fragilebob
okapi
Queen of Rain
what
Fragilebob
its an animal
Queen of Rain
what kind of
Fragilebob
like a giraffe
but black and white
very tall
Queen of Rain
are you sure? what unable to have changed again
Fragilebob
augh!
fine
tiger or lion or something
i dont know!
is so hard!
what about you?
Queen of Rain
you first answer me
Fragilebob
giraffe
Queen of Rain
tiger ?ok?
giraffe ok?
Fragilebob
yep
done
Queen of Rain
The first time represents you hoping that others thinks that what character you are, second time represents others's view to you, third time represents your true character.
Like the gutteral wet slobbering of a vommiting pig.
Everytime I hear shanghainese people speak to each other, I feel like I'm watching monkeys bicker in an ugly dance of self-defense. No warmth, no emotion, just assholes being defensive and offensive. Each sentence is a preemptive strike full of sarcasm and fear, malicious and hurtful, vile and bitter.
The only expression that could possibly be positive in the conversation is laughter, but its invariably twisted into something malicious, like hyenas sucking the will from their prey to make it an easier and more submissive kill.
Show a shanghainese person empathy or sympathy and their reaction is to take advantage of you. And if one genuinely cares for youthe best they can do is not hurt you. The warmer you are, the more they will pull away. To shanghainese, refraining from attack is love...
China's still a little backwater compared to the States. China may be godless, but just replace the word "religion" with "tradition", and its no different than most of the mid US. A lot of Chinese men hold an animosity towards foreign men especially. The society's still repressed, and jealousy quickly sprouts when a repressed public meet one more liberated and happy. Women here are moving forward more quickly than men because liberation in their case means escaping a male dominated society. While most are good and kind men, there are western men take advantage of this deceitfully, coupling the resultant anger in the population of lonely Chinese guys.
The cultural revolution left the boomer generation here with much less education than the preceding and following generations and the boomers outnumber the latest generation by 2 to 1 (due to the one-child policy). The cultural revolution, if you don't know or don't remember was one to re-instill purity in the Chinese nation, much as Hitler wanted to re-instill purity in Germany, except the Chinese were more successful and Mao is still seen as a hero by many. Even those who think that what he did to the country was wrong dare not say he was a bad man or even that he wasn't a hero, not for fear, but for the constant infusing of doctrine and dogma into their education and media.
Right and wrong are very fuzzy ideas here. Much like Americans, they have a sort of moral laziness, and rely on someone else to define right and wrong for them. Americans look to the bible. Chinese look to tradition. In both cases, the government is controlled by and controlling those answers that are given to the public, one openly and obviously and the other less openly, but still obviously. Luckily for both governments, people like to live with their eyes closed and sales-figures in rose-colored glasses have not dwindled in a long time.
Might makes right in China. As a large part of the population is very far from wealthy and struggles daily, being overworked and severely underpaid, they see the "clever" ('clever' is the Chenglish word for deceitful and crooked) businessman as a sort of hero, a role-model for their children. In Shanghai especially, money is king. The social requirements for a man to get married are A) he must own a car, B) he must own a home, C) he must have a "good" job, supposedly something with decent pay and a future. This norm is followed in zombie-like fashion without question or thought, and the rare sub-population who defies these ordinances are seen as dirty and westernized. The result in Shanghai is a population of young men who expect to purchase a bride, and therefore a population of young women who sell themselves as little more than lifelong prostitutes.
China's official policy on foreign people is to welcome them and support them. Bring in business. Infuse China with wealth and power. All the while, the Chinese media, which I remind you is completely government controlled, constantly portrays "foreigners" (not foreign people, political correctness is a long way from coming to China) as morally corrupt, wild, and dangerous. This is to keep them separate, instill a fear and hate of "foreigners" while supporting the using of the resources and opportunities they bring. The result: patriotism and national pride are as rampant in China as are racism and bigotry.
Why instill a population with such contradicting ideas? Simple. You cannot control a nation with tradition if the population sees outside liberal cultures and societies as more desirable than their own, and as a result of China's "clever" education process, you will be hard pressed to meet the Chinese person who will not tell you of their pride in China's 5000 years of history and culture. The fact that said history was rife with civil war, brutality, and oppression need not enter their mind. Chinese do not see themselves as individuals, but rather as parts of groups, so to question the history or culture of China is to insult their very being. I advise others to tread lightly in this subject.
Controlling a Nation. Good, Bad or Necessary? I don't know...
I'll make this a multi-parter. Too much to write in one sitting.
LINE 10: RUN I am sweet to her, and nurture her sweetness with
LINE 20: RUN She becomes distant or apathetic or careless.
LINE 30: RUN I continue to be sweet and ask her to stop being distant.
LINE 40: RUN She tells me where to put it or calls me a child or blames me in some fashion for her bad mood affecting her attitude toward me when in fact it is 9 times out of 10 a result of shit rolling downhill and the nice guys being at the bottom... (this means, for the english impaired, that she gets hurt by someone else, and then hurts me to make herself feel better, consciously, subconsciously, intentionally, carelessly, passively, or aggressively, it makes no difference)
LINE 50: RUN I try to be understanding and talk with her through her problems.
LINE 60: RUN She throws it in my face.
LINE 70: RUN I get pissed off (funny how getting "shit on" makes you get "pissed off") and I explode.
LINE 80: RUN She acts like a distant hurt person for a day or two and then feels sorry...
I'll always love May. I still dont trust her. I will continue to look elsewhere for the support that I imagine she cannot give me. Maybe this is unfair. Maybe I should suffer and wait. I promised her I would drink too much tonight. I tried very hard to keep that promise, but I believe I may have gone a little bit over the top. I am lucid, but not fully in control.
I like myself when I am like this and I hate myself when I am like this. I am easy-going, kind, confident, and a decent human being. However, I am not the most responsible.
I danced with a stuffed rabbit tonight. I named it. I stroked it and held it gently... I am not using metaphors. This doesnt mean i met a woman and did bad things to her. I actually danced with a stuffed rabbit in public. People thought me strange. I didn't care. I teased a girl. I think I will more and more often... I dont really want to "close the deal" as it were. I love somebody. I love her deeply and my life, soul, and hope is forfeit because of it. But the teasing is fun.
I am a terrible man. I am a wonderful terrible man...
I’m not spoiled or rich. I had no silver spoon. My parents moved out of state when I was 18. I worked in a burger joint for a few years and threw newspapers at night in my late teens and early twenties. I tried to stay above water and keep my ideals in focus. I attended classes in local community colleges, changing majors as often as underwear; psychology to philosophy, liberal arts, art history, political science, film… I later even spent quite a bit of energy in marketing and business classes, as it seemed a necessary evil.
Previously, I had found my hand forced in choices of life and career paths, sometimes influenced by circumstance, partly by societal pressures, but in the end, only made possible with the help of good old fashioned self-delusion and denial. In the end I realized I had spent more time trying to make money than find contentment when making choices. Though the latter focus was never completely lost in my attention, its priority became superficial and far too many justifications and compromises were allowed to be made to properly suit its needs.
I have found painfully, but hopefully not too late, that this direction was not simply unsuitable, but rather impossible for the straight-edge high school hippie who would impart on others such words of advice as, “conformity breeds mediocrity,” and, “radix malorum est cupiditas.” While preaching the evils of wealth while pushing his own controversial limits, he absorbed such materials as he could find through inspiring teachers and friends. He was enamored with penitent stories like ‘The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner’, comforted by William Blake’s simple and dichotomous beliefs and his Charlie Brown like approachability in poems such as ‘A Poison Tree’, and resolutely envious of the morbid and satirical wit of more modern authors like Douglas Adams.
When I ended my last job after almost 5 years of employment, stagnating in the dogma and politics of that soulless arena, I took advantage of the much-anticipated opportunity to re-discover myself. I left everything I knew, emptied my 401k, and headed for China, far away from pressures and expectations that had controlled the patterns that ruled my life. I studied Chinese at Jiao Tong University, taking no conventions seriously. I indulged in a deletion of self, testing all the values, stigmas, and judgments I had made in previous years. Some things truly surprised me, or rather some people, but often I would only find affirmation of my old self, my old beliefs and ideals.
Much like a faulty pendulum, I am finding center. So it is time to re-contribute. It is time to do so without letting myself fall into the pit of materialism and unjustifiable justifications that trapped me in previous times. I am looking to further my personal knowledge in all things and to disseminate truth when and if I have the opportunity. To keep myself interested, I hope to do so as creatively as possible. To keep others interested, I hope to do so as creatively as possible.
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
I am beyond tragically "emo" these days. Everything I do, everything I see, I just want her there to make it better. I haven't been in this much pain for years... Anything emotional, anything with a crescendo, anything moving in the least pulls tears from my eyes. I'm a child again, crying as bob sagget hugs his three kids at the end of a twenty-minute melodrama.
The passing years of perspective living on all sides of cool, loved and loving, hurt and dealing pain leave me with an all too clear image of how completely pathetic I look to the world right now... I've given up cool. I've given up appearances or pretense or self-defense...
I am pure and raw and bleeding, completely exposed and completely unconsolable and unconsoled. No one could ever give me enough right now, and those who might dare try would be sucked dry, left an empty husk, as week-old melon-rind, begging the vampire to open a vein to ther lips.
So I ask no one, I dare not. I have no veins left to open. I beg the one who took my blood to help me, to return it, foolishly... foolishly... She knows who she is. She knows what she is. Her heart runs deep. Her body is calloused.
Once I told her I had a dream. In the dream, I died. Only then, when she realized what the word was and why my life had been given, could she use everything I had given her. Only then could she understand and become what she was destined to be sloughing off the pain and protection, hiding only behind reality and the truth and her own enmity and integrity, a far more powerful and realistic force than me, and coupled with my energy, with every ounce of blood and tears I had poured into her... pure and perfect and sad and eternal...
It sounds like the worst kind of manipulation, to tell someone such a dream. But the dream was real, so clear and poignant, with hints of a sixth sense, like projected deja vu. It was more than a year ago, I think. Then, I was certain then I would die within the hour. I just wanted her to know before I had no chance to say goodbye...
I lived on, as most things do... far past their usefulness, and I forgot the dream... as I forget many things...
But here I am, sobbing over my keyboard, inundating myself with duncan shiek's "she runs away", foo fighters' "walking after you", chris isaak's "wicked games" dave mathews band's "satellite", india arie's every song she ever made, etc... pushing myself into cliched hysteria and hoplessness, striving hard to hit bottom...
And the dream floats back, the urgency of it subdued, but the power increased ten fold...
These are the pills my sister gave me for sleeping when I was in the states...
There are too few, and my pain, my desires for oblivion, revenge, and transferral of spirit into those who would be more productive with it than I don't yet outweigh what I once called my optimism and hope, but have come to realize is only my basest animal self-protection afforded me by my egotistical and delusional psyche and fear of 'final disappointment'... "Is that all there is?" - peggy lee.
I have more and more faith I will defeat the lesser reasons and find stronger pills... but not today... Maybe I will row to the middle of a calm lake in autumn, as the golden leaves of a black trunked forest reflect against the sunset-lit ripples in the peacefully undulating water. Maybe I will find Hemmingway in my golden years... maybe I will join Christ and Lennon in my double-san...
Whatever the case, when my final tears hit the water, I hope the ripples go far and wide, deeply and gently pushing the actors n what was my story into roads less travelled and paths more pure. If I never see the sunlight, I hope through me, someone will... I love you Maymay...
In your eyes, I can see that you've had enough... and it pains my head...
Even if I live to be a hundred and two, I dont think I'll ever get over you...
When you dream, what do you dream about? Are they colored or black and white, yiddish or english or languages not yet conceived?
i have to speculate that god himself did make us into corresponding shapes like puzzle pieces from the clay.
I've told this story too many times. So here's the short. I went out, had some drinks and some malatang. fuzzy fuzzy fuzzy, was walking in the street with my friends, a chair hit the back of my head. I turned to just barely see some Chinese guy, and say "为什么" (chinese for "why?") He continued to beat me in the head with the chair. I took a step, stumbled and twisted my ankle, fell to the ground saying, "why, why, why..." in chinese. I was beaten unconscious.
I woke up in bed 4 or 5 hours later, hair matted and caked in dry blood. My friend was with me. I guess they carried me home. The report was that I had spoken loudly to the chinese man and he did not understand because I spoke english. I asked if I had spoken angrily. My friend said no, and that the man was drunk. I asked if they called the police. No one had.
This is not the first time... This is just the first time the guy had a chair... Racism here needs to be addressed. Teaching future generations is not enough. Social mixing is basically prohibited through means such as this... I am tired and in pain... The one person here I call family has not really been available...
I feel worse now than I have in a long long time. I am angry. I am hurt. I am sad. I feel unconsolably helpless...
Every time I see something beautiful
It strikes too harshly into contrast
the rest of the world and its futility
My stomach tightens, My throat constricts
I wince and jerk my head down and away
trying to hold back the realization that reality
is
what reality is
Disappointment crushes my frail body
and I feel my soul welling up
trying to escape from my eyes
like a precognitive rodent
from a sea floor-bound vessel
I feel only flesh around me
Blood pumping, gushing clumsily
through a mass of marbled meat
I can hear the greasy creaking of sinews
pulling wet sloppy cartilage,
grinding it against rough dilapidated bone...
Everything is real and painfully physical
Other empty shells brush against me
I feel sick from the stink of their sweat
and the give of their fat.
I don't want it anymore...
I cant keep watching
If good is potential, If god is justice,
If good is beauty, If good is truth,
If god is respect, If god is ...
If men truly have the ability to think and choose
Then this world is an affront to all that is holy
Cognition without disgust is my sacrilegious...
I'm okay this morning. Feeling better, a little freer this morning. Having a brighter outlook. Looking forward to new experiences again, excited by the prospects of life.
I was invited to go to Hangzhou this weekend by a frend of mine and his wife, two of the only two truly sweet people I think I have met in this city for whom I can find no ulterior motive or reason for deception. I wish I could go, but I work weekends and have to give two weeks notice to take time off. I really should change my schedule, but I would find it hard to part with the lazy days in which I enjoy my own secluded melancholy.
It's 7:12 AM here. I woke up around 5, smelling like the soap from the massage place downstairs, horribly strong and dry, its fragrance tastelessly repugnant in its mechanic's motor-oil-removing soap-like smell. Coupled by the
wall unit heater burning every molecule of water into two dry hydrogens and a lonely oxygen, compounded by the dehydrating effect of the three bottles of saki I drank at dinner last night, and multiplied by the cheap massage oil clogging my pores and replacing any moisture I had left in my skin with a dry itchy greasy sunburn-like starchiness, I found my eyelids had shrunken like a newbie inmates puckered sphincter around my dry and seemingly pea-sized eyes.
Hmmm... that was descriptive. :)
Anyway, I got up, drank some water (gave some to my eyes too), peed, and couldn't sleep. So I turned on a light that was far too bright and resumed 'Spin' by Robert Charles Wilson.
It's good. Fairly sensual, interesting, not predictable, comfortably real thus far. And best of all, it made me feel good. An hour later, my mind was stimulated, my heart was a bit excited, and my soul was just a tad warmer. I put down the book and turned off the light, and noticed he sun was up.
The light coming through the window brought the descriptive summer scenes of the book with it's barbeques and multiple sunsets and true love-making under an infiniteand impossible living sky to life. I know that in all actuality, it's cold and dreary outside, and that the city out there is full of horrible and cruel people, but I feel good in the comfort of this room with the notions and ideas implanted by a man who disseminated them through dried dark wet dirt patterned onto flattened dead tree matter bound by what once might have been parts of a champion thoroughbred.
Thanks, Mr. author. Thank you dirt. Thank you tree. Thank you horse. Nothing particularly good is happening, but through random instances of variables only seen by me and god, I feel good this morning, and I'm proud to a product of even more complex events and actions who can both understand why and continue to feel it. Thanks Mr. universe. Thank you sister. Thank you father. Thank you mother.
To anyone who has been paying attention to the comments, May is Charlie. She has been reading these days. I thought she might. She has moments of weakness, sometimes long moments. She has been, in her own way, kind. I can't say she hasn't changed at all. Her philopsophies have changed and radically, it's her habits that remain the same... and even those are slowly changing. Though I can't be hers in the way that I once was, a main reason being I believe my presence and support enabled her to stagnate, and though my heart aches and my ability to trust has been ripped out, I truly wish her luck and I support her in her endeavor to change should she truly try to. I ask that you do the same. I know all this sounds horribly patronizing, arrogant, and flip-floppy, but it's not. It's meant to be sincere and genuine. With the note that I am prone to hyperbole, I mean every word I write now, just as I meant every word I wrote before.
My reasons for the good will:
- Whether she properly knows how to or not, whether its a side-effect of her own selfishness or not, she has been with me a long time and shown me great acts of love
- Selfish and stupid as it sounds, she is one of the few people who has power to give my faith back to me...
- She loves my family. She felt that time spent with them was one of the best times in her life. She and they deserve to have that known between them and I absolutely believe it to be true. After all, I have a great family
- Mama told me black and white is not good, which means no one is all evil, which is absolutley true
- Lastly, I do love her, and always will. My heart will always have a piece missing as will my life without her. My bane, the beast of shanghai.
Yes, maybe her words are meant to manipulate and she doesnt even know it, but she still hurts, and water comes out of her eyes, and yet she still writes them, the kind and humble words as an anonymous party. She takes her time to make things right, but eventually, she almost more than at least half the time, does in the end make things right. And the percentage is going up all the time.
So many have called me stupid. Said not to be honest with people who hurt me, but that just seems counterproductive. If she was noone, I would agree, but she's not. For better or worse, she was mine.
I invite you to comment support or disdain. I do not know everything, and the words I'm saying now mean nothing more than meow to an animal. I remember a time when people who did things wrong were held accountable for their transgressions. This is how they grew, through shame and judgement. Nowadays, too many people just ignore problems or show a kind face, enabling idiots and assholes to be idiots and assholes for all eternity. It takes the village to raise an idiot. Constructive criticism can be harsh. Love can be tough. And without it today, you may be left with an idiot and an asshole. Don't get wishy-washy just cause she reads this. Don't hold back because you might crush my soul. For me and for Charlie, please fire away at us both.
By the way, if I disagree or don't respect you, I'll put you on my naughty list. Charlie, on the other hand, will make your life hell through very very complicated means that not even she will understand. Seriously, though, to those of you who know her, she does care how you feel. She stills cries, she still bleeds.
I hate you May
I love you Charlie
My brain hurts...
When May first met me, she liked me because we both subscribed to the same beliefs in freedom and living honestly. I enabled in her a kind of irresponsibility and separation from the life her parents, her friends, and her society had pushed into her head as right and necessary. She showed me that the material girl can dream of more, that people are all trapped in the same vice; a vice of expectation, each pigeonholed into some thing or another. And at the same, time, I felt deeply comfortable with her, something which I never wish to be misunderstood or underplayed for the appeal of it was and is truly awesome and indescribable, and, though I have theories and meticulous records psychological, chemical, and biological assumptions stored between synapses, the mechanics of it still remain beautiful and undiscovered.
- i am not stupid -
i miss happiness and peace
and faith in small things
and safety
and security
and everything
...
My x-girlfriend is possibly one of the worst human beings I've ever met. I know now what attracted her to me. She was so like my first girlfriend; careless, successful, and irresponsible. There are at least ten other words floating in my head that don't exist to describe her, and several dozen that I can't write here and keep this blog suitable for all audiences. But I will illustrate my point through satirical allegorical metaphor.
I fell on a knife... from a second story window, broke three ribs, my leg, and fractured my skull. She was busy and had to go somewhere, so she walked by and said, "I love you. I have to meet some people for dinner. I dont really like them, so it'll be short. I'll be back soon," and tossed me a band-aid as she headed out to the clubs for dancing with everyone else, and I do mean everyone.
After the next two hours of agonizing pain and internal bleeding leading to my painful death, I was... well... dead. She called me and said, "ok, I'm on my way out. Just wanted you to know."
As my dead body spit blood, I was able to breathe out the words, "What?! I've been waiting for two hours? You're just going out now?! eeeeeeuuhhh...." Eeeeeeuuhhh.... was the sound of my soul falling out of my mouth and rolling into the gutter due to the sudden disappearance of all faith in people and its being replaced by my utter disappointment of the world. I make this sound nightly... I should record it sometime...
She became angry, and said, "God, If you're just gonna act like that, I guess I shouldn't have called at all. Whatever. Anyway, I'm busy so I have to go. I left you a band-aid so you are ok now. Right? Byebye." (The "Right?" even almost sounded like a question as it blended into the "Byebye.")
Two and a half hours later, when I could barely see the asphault on which my face was planted because my eyes were drying out and rotting in my skull, she called again. I didnt pick up because I was dead and soulless. So she sent a message, "I'm leaving now, have a good night."
I didn't respond. Y'know, the whole no soul thing. She called several more times a few hours later, finally sent another message, "Where are you? I'm sorry you felt bad, are you dead or did you go out? I can't sleep now. Don't make me worry!"
If I thought for half a second she gave a rat's ass about me, I might have regained a bit of soul, but she oozes with false concern only when she doesn't want to feel guilty or be held responsible later. It's part of her do-as-little-for-people-as-possible-without-seeing-myself-as-a-monster philosophy. My soul couldn't justify filling her quota for the night. She'll find another way to fill it anyway.
I sent her a message, "My leg's broken, my ribs are cracked, and my brain is getting too much oxygen. Sorry I didn't pick up. I was resting. It would have been nice if you had helped me. But I know you don't care enough to, so just forget it. I'm dead, what's done is done, leave me alone. I'll do something else with my dead soulless body."
"Don't say I didn't care! I called you! I'm great and super! And I gave you a band-aid! Ok, have fun. Goodnight :)" she replied
It went on and on. This is no exaggeration. This is a girl who would look at you in disgust for being sick with a 104 degree fever for a week, who would answer the phone from another man's bed, "What?!" angry at you for bothering her, who would call you "a child" for wanting to spend time with her the last night before she went under the knife for surgery. And this is how she treats those she loves.
Why did I love her. I know now. I never gave up on my first girlfriend. I needed to know that these people who seemed careless and terrible were in fact salvagable, that they had souls too and that the world wasn't a bad place. I know better now. I know now that there is black and white, and that some people have no other purpose but to take and take and let others suffer. It isn't a place that is bad, it's the people.
Some of you might say this is harsh, but its true. What's really sad is my x knows this website, but never gave a shit about it in the two years we were together. She could have known me deeply, but never really cared. She'd rather shop online for handbags and boots. If she ever reads this, it'll be at least a month from now, maybe six. She'll continue to tell herself she cares and she's great and she loves me. I doubt she ever will... read this, I mean. I have no idea if she is capable of love.
In this dark and this empty
land that I dwell
where heaven is earth
and heaven is hell
deceit is the game
self is the world
the gift of a turtle
love has unfurled
flesh for a time
blood for a pearl
chickens for boys
ducks for the girls
Shanghaied in Shanghai
eat crow and stew pigeon
buddhists turn christian
peace clouding their vision
the sky is not grey
the grass is not brown
upside and down
spin it around
mei ge ren pian ren
mei ge xin tai hei
nothing nice to hear
nothing nice to say
gouge out your eyes
and play in the sun
sometimes the blind
can forget there is none
the sign of the beast
best worn for luck
the masses are dying
while none give a fuck
Shanghaied in Shanghai
cant call it hell
the devil won't come
there're no souls to sell
It's New Year's Eve here in Shanghai. It's about 9pm. I'm naked in bed, a little cold, watching old Stargate: SG-1 episodes on pirated DVD. There are fireworks of every color and variety exploding outside my seventh floor apartment window. And I am utterly alone.
I woke up about an hour ago, saw several messages and a few missed calls on my cell phone. Friends, lovers, admirers... Mostly people I truly treasure, people who have been good to me in hard times, but few who I think understand me, and no one I truly feel I trust... It's not necessarily their failing, more likely mine. I am too, well, for lack of a better word, "fragile" to keep the ever-sunny disposition that some people manage to use to hide distrust and shield themselves from intelligence.
The only call I answered was that of my ex. It's been kind of a crummy day. Silly people being silly, adults acting like children, alienating people.. alienating me. Some surprises from some, but the same old from others. "A group is controlled by its least healthy member." I find it more and more true the longer I persist in meeting new people.
I haven't written about my ex here at all yet. Sadly, I haven't written here much at all over the last few years mainly due to her... She's put me through a lot of pain. I've put her through some hard times too. We lived together for the better part of a year, have found some insurmountable differences, and have decided to part.
Its very difficult for me to write about these kinds of things because they are so close to my heart, so the juicy and the jesting is absent from this entry. But she did some good things today to try to fix a bad situation. It's too little and too late to save her and my romantic future together, but I wanted to give her kudos for her efforts and give her recognition for her change, especially in light of some of her influences. Monkey see, monkey do. Carrot, stick, and all that...
Her mother deserves some recognition as well. 妈妈, you are a conundrum, a dilemma, and a paradox. Inconsistency tires me, but surprises tantalize me. I despise a person who takes advantage of those weaknesses.
Digression: It's more lonely than I thought, and not made better by the fact that in some ways it is my choice. I don't want to be alone... I want inspiration, support, and integrity... I will not settle... I am doomed to remain in the title of this entry...
Relationships are so bloody complicated. Social paralyzation appears to be the inevitable outcome of life, sooner or later. Whether it be the failure to move out of a bad relationship or the inability to try moving into another good one, the results are the same.
Actually, I'm playing this up a bit. I am ever the optimist, expecting that something good will happen tomorrow, or maybe the day after... actually, I'm sure something terrible will happen tomorrow and the day after, but things will clear up someday...
The problem with this is that the after-someday time is growing shorter and shorter. I'm by no means old, but I'm not so young anymore either. When my father was my age, he had been married ten years, had an eight-year-old son and a 3 year-old daughter.
Probably foolishly, I think I am ready for the kids, but finding a suitable pot of soil to plant them in, as it were, is not so easy. So here I sit, petrified, just coming out of yet another dissapointing episode in the life of Bob. I am not ready to move forward, but extremely fearful that I might slip back.
Uninteresting. It's the only word I think suits me. When anyone becomes a pattern, what is the point? I know I'm not so simple, but I am also painfully aware of how poeple appear to each other, and sadly, I am a person.
So the goal for now is simplicity. I don't know if this includes bliss, ignorance, or stupidity. I drank socially for the first time in quite awhile last night and found it easy to let the mind wander to simple things without guilt or fear. I'm not sure I like the feeling actually. It feels... irresponsible. It feels counterproductive... I am not an irresponsible man. I will not be a counterproductive bob.
I just read over a few of my old entries. It's hard to believe I havent updated this in over a year. I find myself disappointed... My thoughts over the last year have been less than divine or philisophical, perhaps not completely without hope, but I do find my current station stagnant and uninspired when compared with what I once was.
These last few months, I have been looking to re-invent. I want to announce that my brooding, angry, hopeful, romantic, irritating self is back. I will be trying to drastically improve upon both what I was and what I have become. My newfound patience for stupidity is a thing I am not sure if I will keep. It seems sometimes that it serves both the world and myself well, but I don't know if it is truly an ally or foe.
I think I need to meditate on the glass... the glass of doom...
Last night, I got my hair cut by Kenny, the gay chinese stylist. My friend brought me. translated "cut four inches off, exact same style" and then left. I hadn't had a haircut in 4 months, so I thought this would do the trick, especially as Kenny came highly recommended.
I found that Kenny likes to cut and cut and cut. He likes layers. He likes old men. I had no way to stop Kenny as I did not see him (glasses were off) and I can not speak enough chinese to direct him anyway, so I looked a little more mature and with a lot shorter hair than I was comfortable with.
So I called my friend, "Help! Tell Kenny it's too clean. Make it a little choppy." Realize that the translation from a western language to an asian language was required for this little game. Then throw in the "my Chinese friend with a decent but not flawless grasp of the english language was in the middle of a business meeting with a new client" variable... If you've ever played telephone as a kid, you can let your mind wander creatively as you try to imagine what Kenny must have been told.
Kenny began to cut again. He cut alot. Then he cut some more. "He was a professional," I thought. "Just Let him do his work. Close your eyes and it will all be over soon."
Anyway... it's choppy
(Please, someone tell me I'm still beautiful)
Even though I saw it and died inside, I was still under the impression that it must have looked good to someone due to Kenny's high recommendation and implied skill. So I tipped him well, tried to smile and be gracious, and left the salon in a stupor... trying to like it, trying not to care.
Seven stories of escalators with mirrored walls later, I was panicked.
I waited for my friend in the front of the mall, curled up in a ball seated on the edge of the planter trying not to look too tragic. My friend, the event planner who is way too cool for me, showed up and smiled, but I could tell. She looked left. And there was a nervous twitch, a tightening of her jowels and a quick gulp of shame hidden beneath her smile.
She called me a "girl" during dinner due to my incessant whining (which I thought I was being rather manly and tactful about), but I could tell she was compensating, she felt guilty. She kept looking down or away. I joked about it to make her less uncomfortable, and she told me a similar story about her boyfriends hair, which she still feels resonsible for... Ah, relived guilt compounded by my situation... excellent! Someone should suffer for this tragedy!
The next morning, I gave up and trying to part it or push it out of my face and it became the mop you see above. I went online and moaned to some girlfriends, who were very supportive (and thats all I really need, beautiful women telling me I'm a fine man). so I got brave enough to go out for lunch.
A thought occurred to me yesterday while waxing random thoughts with a new friend. I could not possibly be more than I actually am, so I must be less, limited by my own perceptions and self-defeatism... The subsequent questions ineveitably being, "Who is the me that imagined me? What dreamed me up? Is it infinite? Is it limited?" and finally, "How can I become it?"
The resulting lack of answers to such ridiculous questions quickly quashed this line of thought, so I let it marinate... bothering me in the hot part of the back of my head.
Unfortunately, today, in a related tangent, I began to realize I'm only a figment of others' imaginations as well, even more limited than I had suspected by my own thoughts. This is nothing I hadn't already known, but I realized it to an uncomfortable degree today. "A depressed face, a wet carpet, and a strange floral sheet..." This is "the impression of u" (u being me) as stated by Eggy today.
"Wow. That's... horrible." I could hardly be less. "I suppose a plain face, unnoticeable carpet, and unremarkable sheet would be worse, but not terribly so." ... She just laughed and agreed.
Does the number "one" know it fills a larger role. Does it actually fill a larger role or is it just hopeful thinking? Is it's finite value truly part of a larger value or is it really only one, differing from all other one's only in temporality and location? Does it have boundaries or were those simply defined by others trying to put chaos in order, separate and identify, limited themselves by further imaginary separations.
If a tree falls through an eternal void, does it exist?
Freedom is a thing we take for granted, though rarely does it truly exist. Taxes and death are not the only circumstances we can't cheat. To believe otherwise is not only foolish, but irresponsible and selfish. The problem with the illusion is that for anyone with an open mind and half an imagination, the need to feel each experience, be it good or bad, and the misconception that it is indeed possible to do so will not quickly enough be hindered by reality. Dreams will only be smashed by practicality when they seem just within reach.
Since I've been in China, this is much less the case. I hear the word traditional quite often. It is the measurement of this quality in a person that truly defines them here in a world striving so hard to push forward into the next step of societal evolution. It is a beautiful time. It is a time of nearly unadultered change. It is a time in which I feel at home. Though it is ancient, the country is like an infant in many ways. Here, I am a teacher. I speak english. I am liberal. I am socially responsible. Here, I was born with the silver spoon. I have the opportunity to either take advantage of the nation's naivety or responsibly guide it into the next generation. The temptations to execute the former have not been lost on me, but the self-loathing and white guilt inspired by encounters of fellow foreigners have kept me in check.
I should have been more careful with it. It had broken before, and though I was able to mend it, I did so crudely and quickly. My attentions were too unfocused. And now, a part of it is lost forever. Perhaps it will turn up unexpectedly in a pocket or in the dustpan after I do some serious cleaning, but my hopes run low...
As time is short and so is money. I have been forced to start hocking my childhood. This is a Time Walk from Magic the Gathering. It is a very rare card that we, the dorky multitudes, would wet our pants over as we roamed the halls in high school. It is now on ebay where I will be selling a great many of my other memories as well. This is my "Woody The Cowboy" if you will. A part of me is dying, but as I have kept it locked away for several years I cannot justify keeping it longer. It deserves a chance to play again.
Oh, Time Walk
Oh, Time Walk
Your edges are curved and so soothing
Though you're faceless and odd
to many, still I nod
in your direction
with approving a glance
Oh, Time Walk
Oh, Time Walk
Your letters are bold and impressive
The love of a boy
for his childhood joy
is what truly
defines this romance
Oh, Time Walk
Oh, Time Walk
Your dark skies are ominous and brooding
Though I've yet to earn
a fair extra turn
after this one
Please give me a chance
Oh, Time Walk
Oh, Time Walk
Your profit margins are far too divisive
I so want you to stay
while your flesh rots away
Derreliction
impedes my finance
As I'm leaving for China in 24 days, I figured, better get as healthy as I can to fight off malaria, typhoid, bird flu, hepatitus, etc..
So I went to the dentist (for the first time in 5 years).
The Meeting
The dentist was kind, gentle, and kind of a hottie, too. Couldn't have been older than me, but I couldn't hold that against her.
Her first question was one I hadn't prepared for. "Do you floss once a day?"
Damnit. What lie can I tell and get away with? Damnit! Why can't she be uglier? Damnit! Why didn't I floss yesterday!? "No... more like two to three times a week," I told her.
"Well," she smiled approvingly. She bought it. Awesome! "That's better than nothing," which was closer to the truth, "but you really should floss at least once a day."
The Examination
She started the exam. I wasn't worried. I had been through these before. I haven't had a cavity yet, and I knew that any personal neglect would be hidden by my super-genes. My tooth angels had not failed me yet, and I had paid them overtime during the last few days with extra brushings. Yeah, Maybe I was smug, but I had the precedent to be so.
She dug right in with an unknown sharp and shiney object. There was pain, but not alot. I could tell she was not out to hurt me. This was an extremely good sign. I have it on good authority that if you piss off a dentist, they have been trained to stab you in a nerve that will make you fill your collostamy bag and then some. The longer my pants were clean, the more at ease I felt.
"Mmmm," she would grunt ambiguously as she worked away at my mouth. Though I couldn't tell whether it was a sign of approval or disdain, I did note that the groans were not unpleasant. They were not unlike the sounds one might make if they found an unexpected chocolate, or similarly, if their significant other found an unexpected G-spot. However, I was skeptical that either had been found in my mouth, so I clenched my buttocks in anticipation and simply hoped for the best.
The Verdict
Apparently, the lifespan of tooth angels is closer to dogs than to humans. The one thing I had not counted on was that five years earlier, I was not old and decrepid, and my tooth angels were still with me.
The dentist leaned back, turned around, and handed me a mirror. "I want you to see something," she said. It quickly occurred to me that she was probably not going to show me how wonderful and amazing my teeth were. Damnit...
"Hold this up while I floss." She flossed between two teeth. "You have to get below the gumline," she demonstrated, "on both sides of the gum." She spoke with authority, but not accusingly."
She pulled the floss back out and showed me that it was red where she had used it.
"Do you see the blood? This tells me that you haven't been flossing for the last six days."
Damnit! "Oh yeah, I... uh... didn't floss this last week, I... uh-"
"Do you see the little bit of wetness?" she continued. "That's bacteria. It eats the same food you do."
Damnit, Damnit! no way to save face on this one... Just look apologetic and a bit confused.
She went on to tell me that the two back bottom teeth had separated from the gum nearing 5 millimeters accompanied with a slight bone loss below the tooth, both of which were signs of Moderate Periodontitis.
The other teeth had been anywhere from 0 and 1 millimeters in the front to 3 and 4 in the back, only signifying Gingivitis and Early Periodontitis. These could be cleaned and would show improvement through better care and maintenance.
The good news. Still no cavities. That's right, I finally won one of the gene pool lotteries. 26 years old and still not a single cavity.
"You have good teeth," she told me. Yes! I was so proud. A perdy girl saw my teeths, A-hyuck. One of the angels must have survived. "But," she said
Damnit! There's a but!
"You need to have your wisdom teeth removed. Usually the cut-off age for this procedure is 25 because of the way the bone develops and there may be permanent damage during the procedure to older patients."
D'oh! I've known this for five years, everything except the bone damage thing.
Through it all, she was still as cordial as one could be, even playful, not talking down to me at all, not threatening to make me crap my pants, but just showing what seemed genuine concern. I felt... guilty, but still very comfortable and quite cared for. It became my mission to make my teeth the whitest things on the face of the earth. It was the right thing to do! She deserved it!
She finished up and told me she'd check to see if they could get me in for a cleaning today and dissapeared behind the wall.
The Pitch
A few moments later, the young woman from the front desk came out to explain my options...
She explained that, though my insurance pays for 100% of the cost of "routine" cleanings, it only paid for $140 of the $230 cost per quandrant for a deep-cleaning procedure known as SRP (Scaling and Root Planting). "Luckily" for me, the dentist had only deemed the two lower quadrants as needing of SRP. The upper teeth only needed regular deep cleaning (which after insurance, would only cost me another $156). Lastly, the cost of the antiseptic mouthwash to keep the blood clear during the cleaning was another $110.
"Now, your wisdom teeth are impacted. The two partially boney extractions (bob giggles) will cost you $90 each. The two fully boney extractions (tee-hee) will cost you $110 each after insurance."
"So... What exactly is the difference between a partially boney and a fully boney?" I asked ;)
"Well, non-boney is completely outside the soft tissue."
I thought, "Where else would it be?"
"A fully boney is still completely inside the soft tissue..."
Heheh. Sounds about right.
"And a partially boney has just errupted from inside the soft tissue."
Bwahahaha (wipes teary eyes). I physically chuckled this time.
As pennance for my transgression against the gods of flossing and mentally equating dental terms to "doing it" in various stages of flacidity, I was also forced to pay for Arestin for the two teeth that were having the worst Periodontal problems in the back.
"Arestin is a fairly new antibiotic that actually remains in the pocket between the tooth and gum for 14 days and helps shrink the size of the infected periodontal pockets," or so I was told. The cost of Arestin to me - $90 per tooth. Aaaauuugh!
While I'm all for shrinking the soft tissuey pockets around my bony erruptions, $90 a pop is a bit steep. Thank God it was just the two teeth.
"You'll have to be put under general anesthesia for the procedure to pull all four wisdom teeth, and after your insurance, the anesthesia will cost you $454."
This is the awkward silence where I silently choke and shit a brick.
"Is there any way I can just use local anesthetic during my partially boney and fully boney extractions?" I asked. I though to myself, "I really wouldn't mind being awake while you ripped teeth out of my head. It would probably hurt less."
"No, the surgeon won't do it unless your under."
"Kinda takes all the fun out of the boney eruptions :("
Swing and a Miss
She smiled and continued, "and the Rota-dent Toothbrush is $120. So your total comes to 1,460"
"I'm sorry, the what? How much?"
"The Rota-dent Toothbrush is a far superior toothbrush offered only at dental offices with special training. It's much better than.. Have you seen it? I think we've got some literature on it around here somewhe-"
"Yeah, I've got the pamphlet here... and... I don't think I'm gonna be getting that today, but thanks."
Strike Two
A bit flustered, she said, "Um... Okay. Well, I know its alot of money to pay at once and not alot of people have that just layin around, so we do do financing - "
"How much is just the cleaning today?" I was already told they couldn't get me in for the extractions 'til next month anyway. I didn't see any reason to finance something I wasn't getting now. Besides, anyone who's seen the Sanford and Son episode with the stereo company and the Grey Foxes knows that credit is just another word for rip-off. If I couldn't afford to fix my mouth, I wasn't about to do it.
"Um," she was even more flustered now. I wasn't mean, just quick. I used to work in a marketing department with a bunch of soul-sucking demons :P. Poor girl never had a chance. She already got me on the Arestin and deep cleanings, so I was getting a little defensive. The $120 tootbrush just wasn't gonna happen. "I'll have to go check," she said and meandered off a little confused and wounded, but not before I got a discount on the Arestin as well.
The dentsist came back. I asked here how neccesary the Arestin was. Quite convincingly, she assured me it was. When she described the alternative, I was sold.
The Procedure
The cleaning itself was quite surreal. The topical novacaine came first. It numbed me faster than I expected. Then the shots. God, she pushed that needle in deep. Four shots on the bottom. Two on the inside and two on the outside gums. The ones on the inside hurt bad, real bad. I could feel it slide down to the bone, dull and deep. She shook my cheek as she did the inner shots. It did seem to lessen the pain. No idea why, but I was very impressed.
As I was having my mouth cleaned, I looked up past the masochistic dental tools working away at my spongy flesh, through the hazy mist of mouthwash hovering over me illumiated by the harsh and blinding dental light, and into the purple eye-shadowed eyes of my dentist and those of her also-quite-adorable assistant. I had an overwhelming urge to tell them, "If I'm ever abducted by aliens, I hope they're as pretty as you two," but my mouf wuz fuww ob cwap, tho I didnd.
There was one 'incident'. She slipped with the grinder and cut a gum or something. They didn't explain it or even really stop the work, but the assistant dove in fast and hard with the mouthwash and dental vacuum right after the mishap. Ah, sweet novacaine. I didnt feel a thing :)
The rest was almost calming. They worked quickly and smoothly. She finished up by showing off the Arestin applicator (which you could tell she was very proud of) and giving me four quick injections into the fleshy pockets around my periodontally inflicted back teeth. I have to admit, it was quick and painless, and seeing as how the alternative is having a specialist cut back your gums to prevent more bacteria buildup between the gums and teeth, if the Arestin actually does what it promises, then... I don't feel like it was money wasted.
Not quite an appifany, but nontheless, my day. I was kind of sad when it was all over. It was like a spa for my mouth. :(
I would like to announce I have received my first donation to my Chinese Study Abroad Shanghai Adventure Fund! All I had to do was post my girlfriend's cleavage and whine! $5.90 is now the the donation to beat, boys and girls.
Warning - If $5.90 is not beat, I may post my own cleavage. Sadly cleavage is not too difficult to find on the human body, be it male or female. The degree of how disturbing this cleavage will be will directly coincide with how unhappy I am. You have been told!
In fact, screw it. Here's my first Bob-cleavage
-->
Is it old lady butt, or is it just my hand? <mysterious spooky ghost sounds> ... So, Yeah, It's just my hand, but soon it could be old lady butt if you aren't all more benevolent.
As for my sole benefactor (D) - You know who you are. You are my hero! My faith in sex in marketing has been restored. Let me know if you ever need a kidney... or a just a kid... Actually, I have bad kidneys... but my offspring would be... well... probably angry liberal dorks with bad vision and kidney problems... so I'll try to think of something else. Regardless, thank you sincerely - Bob
BTW - Was the the boobs or my sheer patheticness that pushed you over the edge? I must know or it will haunt my dreams.
I caught an episode of the Boondocks the night before Martin Luther King day. Typically, the show is rather hit or miss. It's opinions, controversies, and revelations are almost quaint at times when compared with the hardcore satire of series like the Simpsons or South Park. But it is in it's infancy. Every once in a while, it does shine through like a glorious beacon of discontent.
"Return of the King" was one of the best episodes to date. Though seeing Dr. King portrayed as on old doddering fool brought some heavy discomfort and quite a bit of anger to my jaded heart, there were shining moments when he expressed a muddled and confused melancholic disappointment in the state of affairs of America today.
His speech near the end about the haplessness and hopelessness of this generation and his exhaustion and dissapointment with it all is only made unconfortable by the gratuitous use of the word "nigger". Sadly, he offers no solutions or reason, but just vents frustration and says he's moving to Canada.
I submit that the phenomenon goes far beyond "urban" culture. I'll admit I'm young and my experience is limited by my time on this planet, but my generation appears to pale in comparison to most of the latter half century.
Once, the young had a mission. Sure, they were always careless and playful, full of misdirected anger and passion, but beatniks looked inward for persepective and soul, feminists and panthers fought for equality, even hippies preached peace and love while they screwed and got high. Though their methods may have been questionable, they had a purpose.
Today, those emotions have no real outlet or place in society. It seems that idealism in any form, unless sanctioned by the radical religious right, has been squashed. Feelings are only for psychopaths and terrorists. Progressive is just a synonym for the now demonized "liberal". Those who have been hurt and seek justice or are weary are "bitter". Emotional investment or good old "love and caring" is now mostly just an obsessive illness of which jealousy and paranoia are symptoms.
My uncharacteristically optomistic theory of the day is that today's children are not inherently bad or shallow. Rather, the next fix, whether it be sexual, narcotic, primal, or material, it is all they care about because it is all they are allowed to care about.
My other theory involves geese and butter, but the gist is "Comfort breeds mediocrity." This was a theory I used as a war-cry in highschool. It is also more along the lines of the Boondocks message, being, "Only in hard times did the black community come together for a common purpose." It's more easily explainable, so ignore the rest of the post if you don't get it.
Yay for the Boondocks and it's memorable tribute to Dr. King.
Actually, the only good thing about unclogging a tub is the insane home abortionist photo-op.
Step 1 - Pour a Butt-Load of Draino Down the Drain
Warning: Do not use an actual butt to measure the amount of draino. This can have adverse effects on the draino. Follow the directions on the anti-clogging agent before using. Don't wine to me if you don't. Actually, do. Then I can make fun of you.
Step 2 - Try a Plunger
If the buttload doesn't work, you'll have to plunge. This is not as easy as it sounds. You first have to remove the over flow plate -->
Then, use some wire to clear out any obstructions (soap-scum, grime, long beautiful flowing jesus hair, etc..) that may be in the drain and the overflow tube (the tube behind the overflow plate, genius).
You'll need to plug the overflow tube before you start plunging. Forget this step and you'll end up with a face full of wet sludge, so don't... or send me a picture and I'll post it.
Once you've plugged the tube, get your plunger and pump it like your in a flaming earthbound airplane. You may want someone to hold the rag in place as well, or you may end up with a face full of wet sludge-covered rag.
Step 3 - Get Really Frustrated
This is one of the more important steps. If you fail to get extremely angry, upset, or whiney, people may see you as someone who likes to do this sort of thing and will ask you to do it again. Piss and moan incessantly!
Step 4 - Auger Time (Oh-oh, Oh-oh, Can't touch this)
If the draino was tainted, you have a face of wet sludge-covered rag, and you were unsuccessful in guilting surrounding bystanders into completing the task for you, it's time to purchase an auger cable (sometimes known as a pipe-snake... :D ooh-la-la). -->
You'll feed the auger cable into the overflow tube (or your pipe-snake into the hole). Apply only slight pressure at any resistance while turning clockwise to clear obstructions or navigate sharp turns (isn't it amazing how similar pipe-snake and trouser-snake usage is).
Step 5 - Lather, Rinse, Repeat
At some point pull the snake back out, turning counterclockwise at resistance. Invariably, you'll pull back some nasty goop, so clean off your snake.
Use hot water to test the drain. It still won't be cleared, so after about 15 minutes of rest (this may take a bit longer if you're more advanced in years), put your snake back in and start working it again. Usually the second time around, you don't need to work as hard to get it in :D.
Step 6 - Screw Up and Give Up
When you've been at it for half an hour, the pipes are squealing, and you can hear the augor scratching in the U-pipe in the sink behind you (which is obviously the wrong pipe and has now been clogged as well), it's time to call a plumber. You really should have done that in the first place rather than consulting a blog about how to fix a bathtub drain. What were you thinking?
Not only is the glass half empty, but whatever is in the glass is evaporating even now as you ponder this question. What you saw as half full isn't half full any longer. The liquid particles in the top membrane have gained enough energy from the surrounding matter to escape their viscous membranic prison.
Good for them, yes. Good for the particles. Good to be free. Good to fly away and coalesce with other freed particles to play and fall upon the head of some unsuspecting umbrellaless soul.
Not good, however, for the man in the suede jacket with no skyward held water-shield. Not good for the thirsty glass observer contemplating his own outlook on life. Those free particles may have hydrated a cell on the verge of mutating, on the verge of becoming malignant. It may have been healed, but now it is over...
My advice to you: "Carpe diem! Grab the glass! Drink it now! Don't think! Careful, don't spill... "
"Ah... That is good... That is better, isn't it... "
"What? What's that you say? It was half full of air, and half full of... arsenic? Oh, well... Look on the bright side. It wasn't quite half full."
"Ponder this in the remaining seconds you have... "
You're older than you've ever been
And now you're even older
And now you're even older
And now you're even older
You're older than you've ever been
And now you're even older
And now you're older still
Time is marching on
And time is still marching on
This day will soon be at an end
And now it's even sooner
And now it's even sooner
And now it's even sooner
This day will soon be at an end
And now it's even sooner
And now it's sooner still
You're older than you've ever been
And now you're even older
And now you're even older
And now you're even older
You're older than you've ever been
And now you're even older
And now you're older still
Ok, so it's four words, shoot me. It's still three websites, so bleh :P.
I have found what I believe to be great luck and wisdom in buying my very own first guitar with this combination of online resources. Ebay to buy the guitar, Froogle to ensure you aren't getting ripped off on price, and Harmony Central for the guitar reviews. I've been playing for only half a year now on a loaner guitar, but need my own for the trip to Shanghai. Fragilegirlfriend has generously offered to put $250 toward the purchase price of my choice guitar as her big Christmas present to good ol' Fragilebob, (kisses) so I'm not going chinsey. I'll spend the hundred or two extra to get a good mid-range guitar.
+=
I'm partial to acoustic guitars, not only for the pan-handling readiness, but for the mellow folk-singer Jesus Christ Superstar look as well. In the end, I have decided to go with a combo acoustic/electric type guitar (mostly for the addition of the cutaway, but the versatility isn't a negative either - as long as you pay enough to keep the sound rich) I'm torn between the Ibanez AEF37TCS and the Alvarez FD60. I know they aren't the best guitars under the sun, but they have good reviews, are going for reasonable prices, and are the kinds of guitars that look like someone who would be carrying them would be hot and sexy (spelled s-e-x-x-y for They Might Be Giants fans, mmm... yes.... that would be me boys and girls - hot, sexxy and a They Might Be Giants fan) But seriously, the sound unplugged, cutaway style, and mid to lower action of these guitar models is the real draw for me.
By the way, Jon Graney reviews some guitars on Harmony Central and is friggin hilarious...
The Shape-Shifter EQ includes bass, mid, treble and shape. I tried to change the shape, but no matter what I do, it still looks like a guitar. :)
I'll probably buy the Ibanez AEF37TCS acoustic/electric guitar because of that line. Someone should hire that dude to spice up the catalogs :D. Or maybe... I'm just easily amused...
I am waiting to post this until I buy my guitar so you beotches don't try to steal it out from under me... Wish me luck... in the... past? Can you pray backwards maybe.. or is that a little satanic?
Apparently, some of you would like to buy the Wal-Mart Christmas bear. Well, before you complete that decision, please click here and read this. If you still want to buy the Walmart's Christmas Bear, I'm all for it. Otherwise, Happy New Year and congratulations.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!
The closer the date gets, the more excited and more apprehensive I am.
Undoubtedly, China will be amazing. The culture shock alone will be an adventure. Traveling the streets and absorbing a completely different world is an opportunity that relatively few are able to experience. I'll be almost completely independent, with the world and myself to contemplate. It is a thrilling prospect.
On the other hand, 5 months is a long time to be alone. And I know myself. I am shy and discreet by nature. I truly hope I don't fade into the background and sit in my room wallowing in lonely misery. I've always had a rough time when it comes to meeting people. Perhaps starting each day with 40 oz. of Jack will grease those wheels. :D
Then I think again, five months will be over before I know it. And everyone I meet in China will be, if not lasting contacts, memories I will look back on with fondness. The goal is for Fragilebob will grow in character, and hopefully in wisdom and not just sorrow.
Kids, I know I haven't gone yet. But I already recommend it. Make life an adventure. Five months can slip by unnoticed in the mundane reality of routine, but in flux, it will be hard to forget.
We spent Christmas dinner across the street at my sister's house. We were there maybe two hours tops. We came back across the street and found that Fragiledad's hard work had been destroyed. Santa and Mrs. Claus were on their backs, their heads three and ten feet away, battered and mutilated. The horse pulling the carriage was on its side, beaten into a twisted mas of wires and lights. A Christmas tree had been smashed to bits. Even the polar bear had taken blows to the head enough to put out the lights in its head. We just stood there, awestruck. What kind of pathetic creature would seek out to hurt people on Christmas? I've never been terribly fond of people, but I never believed in guns either. I must admit that on this Christmas night, I envisioned myself walking out that door to find those responsible in the act, pistol in hand and raising it and firing a few rounds, turning and firing a few more. How inspiring...
My sisters, Fragilegirlfriend, and I walked the neighborhood furious to see if other houses had been hit and warned the occupants of the ones that hadn't been.
The news that night and the next morning told of many other incidents at homes and churches, a pandemic of bad will toward man and celebration. Fragiledad spent most of the next day repairing the display. It was incredible that he salvaged almost every decoration thta had been destroyed. Below is the fixed display.
So it's the 4 pm on Christmas Day and I'm trapped in my room again. Why? Because no one wants to do anything with anyone else. Christmas started at after 11 and was over at 3. What happened? It doesn't matter. I guess most people really think it's what you do, not who you do it with...
I've got one more day to spend with Fragilegirlfriend over the christmas break and each day is pissed away waiting for everyone else (who has more time and vacation) to decide or not decide to do something... or to decide to postpone it until we can't do it. So here I am trapped in my room Christmas day, because even the rest of the house is being actively and decisively used to postpone and delay togetherness or even the choice activities of alone time.
Sigh... Fragilebob just wants some family time before he's shipped out to China. 1 and 1/2 months left...
Woke up this morning at 7:00 am. For those of you who know me, there is no such a time in my world unless it ends a night of Halo playing. I just missed pop as he pulled out of the driveway (we were all supposed to go try to hit a Sears' Early Morning 20% Off Sale :P) So Fragilegirlfriend and I spent the next hour searching Sears' stores in the area for Fragiledad - we stopped in the electronics department each time... just in case. But, no luck. We found Dad meandering around the second store, arms full of gifts we weren't supposed to see. I, being perfect and innocent, averted my eyes as to keep the surprise fresh until Christmas morn, and we agreed to meet up after he was finished with his shopping.
So, with a little time to kill, we headed over to the Electronics Boutique. I looked up at the display boxes of Xbox 360's on the wall and a handwritten sign was taped up, "Out Of Stock."
No surprise there, but still a tinge of disappointment welled in my throat. I wandered the store hoping to see a game or movie, something to lift my spirits, some consolation prize or gift of distraction.
And there it was!
No, not an Xbox 360. Something better (though I had no idea at the time). It was a used copy of "In Living Color - The Complete Season 4" for $19.99.
"Look! that's a great price," I said to Fragilegirlfriend.
"Yeah," she said. "And that's the one you were going to get me."
I had returned a copy to Target the day prior as they had overcharged me by 12 dollars on the sale price posted of $19.99. I picked it up and said, "Well, I'm not getting it for you, so stand over there and don't look." (She's quite gullible ;)) We took it to the counter and handed it to the cashier.
He looked down at the box set, began searching for the DVD's in his drawer. "Anything else I can get for you?" echoed his distorted voice slowly through my skull like at the end of every fight scene right after the protagonist has taken one too many blows and right before they go down for the count.
"No," I laughed. "Not unless you have any Xboxes," I joked.
He looked toward the wall as though contemplating where they would be. I realized my error. "360's," I said.
"You want an Xbox?" he asked. He turned his head back down and began shuffling through the DVD's in his drawer again. "I can get you an Xbox." He said it as though it were not the most sought after item in the currently known universe, but rather a napkin or a glass of water.
Stunned, my jaw dropped. "Really?" I didn't believe it. Fragilegirlfriend looked as confused as I felt.
"Yeah," he looked up for a moment and chuckled while he continued his search for 'In Living Color'. "The boss said to get rid of them today."
He must be lying...
"People put them on hold and never came to pick them up, so we were told to get rid of them today."
Impossible, they were selling on ebay for two to three times retail price. What idiot wouldn't come and pick up his rightfully owned double-your-money card?
"Really?!" squealed Fragilegirlfriend.
The other employee got involved at this point. Smiled over at us and said, "Yeah, I'll go get it. Do you want another controller or game with it?"
Whaaaaa?! He's gone too far. This is just cruelty now. "You're joking?" I said.
"No," they both looked up and smiled for just a moment before the second fellow headed toward the stock room.
When he was out of sight, I said again to the first looking for the DVD's, "Your kidding..." Fragilegirlfriend was was brandishing an open smile, squeaking and giggling with excitement, looking back and forth between me and the cashier.
"No," he reassured me and then smiled again. "I'm not kidding," and went back to the DVD's.
Fragilegirlfriend was starting to convulse in fits of open-mouthed ecstatic guffawing, but I was still skeptical. Too many pranks had been played on me as a child.
Then, there it was! The stockroom clerk had emerged with an Xbox 360 premium box in his arms while Fragilegirlfriend and I were weighing the trustworthiness of our potential new best friend. He set it on the counter in front of us. Fragilegirlfriend began shaking and squealing in delight.
"You think it's full of bricks, don't you?" the cashier smiled as he pulled back the tab on top to reveal a serial number and bar code. "We can open it up if you want to see it."
Well, I didn't need to open it. And I ended up being coerced into buying a second wireless controller and charger, and the game Kameo by the argument, "you don't buy a new Mercedes and get a manual transmission." (which I don't agree with, but I got the point)
We carried it hurriedly to the car, Fragilegirlfriend still squealing and screaming, "I can't believe we got an Xbox," me hushing her the whole time, eye's darting back and forth expecting a mob of soccer moms and thirteen-year-olds to appear and steal my golden ticket.
It was absolutley surreal.
We got it home and set it up (which definitely killed the romance :P). Cords everywhere, moving a 64 inch projection HDTV and various other electronics to get to the proper inputs, not understanding how to get the controllers to recognize the console and vice versa. I was sweaty and frustrated, so in the interest of my sanity and the safety of the Xbox (in the case that I went insane and destroyed it), we ended up settling for the normal AV inputs. We turned it on and it was neat, and we played and were happy.
Fragiledad arrived moments later and just had to get it going in HD, so we let it become a battle for his sanity. It was worth it. So beautiful... So beautiful....
Buy it. It's worth it. Though I only bought Kameo, it's absolutely gorgeous. We have been downloading old-school games like "Joust" and "Smash TV" all day on the Microsoft Live network (and Joust in HD is just plain cool). Fragilemom and Fragilegirlfriend even got hooked and used up all my free "Zuma" credits, so, in the spirit of Christmas, I'll make them buy me the full version. Happy Holidays everyone! Happy Birthday Jesus!
I took a shot at JibJab's new 2-0-5 Bush year in review in my last entry (mostly because it wasn't good), but I digress. Our fine friends at JibJab do still seem to do some quality work. Even though the latest installment is a bit lackluster, one of the films I had missed made up for it.
Give it a look. It's vague play between Wal-Mart and the Big K is a bit of a cop-out but other than that, it really hits home. From Chinese slave-wagers to a dying jobless American middle class, everyone in this short never stops smiling or singing through their torturous plight. Satire of denial? Or just plain fun? I give JibJab's Big Box-Mart two Urkel snorts and a nose hair pluck (for the teary-eye-effect). Yay JibJab! Boo Evil Corporations!
You may recall JibJab's spoof of "This Land", a hilarious short film mocking of the pathetic state of affairs in the affairs of our state in the run-up to the US Presidential Election 2004.
Well, JibJab's new 2-0-5 Bush year in review is not so hot... The jokes just aren't there. It may be that it's not funny anymore because he was actually re-elected and is still destroying America. It may be that the damage he's doing is so reliable and expected that my morbid fascination has waned. But either way, the short film, while visually impressive, does not take the low blows that have been precedented in "This Land" or "Good To Be In D.C.". I give it two yawns and an S.B.D. (silent but deadly), but you should still watch it and judge for yourself.
Either we’re serious about fighting the war on terror or we’re not. Either we believe that there are individuals out there doing everything they can to try to launch more attacks, to try to get ever deadlier weapons to use against, or we don’t. The President and I believe very deeply that there’s a hell of a threat, that it’s there for anybody who wants to look at it. And that our obligation and responsibility given our job is to do everything in our power to defeat the terrorists. And that’s exactly what we’re doing.
But if there’s anything improper or inappropriate in that, my guess is that the vast majority of the American people support that, support what we’re doing. They believe we ought to be doing it, and so if there’s a backlash pending, I think the backlash is going to be against those who are suggesting somehow that we shouldn’t take these steps in order to protect the country.
Big Brother has warned us! Keep fighting for your rights and there will be hell to pay!
Apparently, the way to help people who are being terrorized is to terrorize them more by removing their right to privacy.
So there it is. Bird Flu pandemic is looking more and more inevitable. The dosing increase is the real bad news. There simply will not be enough Tamiflu to go around...
... so only 8 people are allowed to get him presents. Everyone else send checks payable to his real name, "CASH" at my home address, care of Fragilebob.
Walmart: ...something republican and disparaging about the phrase "Happy Holidays"
Fragilebob: "I'll tell you what, I'll stop saying 'Happy Holidays' and fight for your side when the atheists have more rights in this country than Christians do."
Walmart: "But they already do. We can't say prayers in school or anything."
Fragilebob: "Oh, come on. I don't see any atheist holidays on the school calendar."
Walmart: "You don't see any Christian ones anymore either. "
Fragilebob: "Yeah, right. Start complaining to me when 'Winter Break' starts falling on Chanukah instead of Christmas. I mean, those poor Jewish kids.They wake up and say, 'Yay, it's Chanukah! Time to go to... school...'"
Walmart: "Yeah, well... we don't get Good Friday off anymore. We used to get that."
Any who have been paying attention may assume I'm atheist. Well, I'm not.
I probably don't believe in your God per say, but I don't necessarily deny him either. I have the utmost respect for Jesus, Buddha, Chrishna, Allah, etc., etc.. Being a white guy in America from Catholic and Protestant roots, my personal familiarity leans toward good old J.C..
Many will ask me, "Was he real? or more specifically, was he really the son of God who died on the cross at the hands of those he sought so hard to save?" In all honesty, I don't pretend to know. But, it seems like it would make a good movie! (though lately, it hasn't).
Instead, I focus more toward the messages of tolerance, respect, reason, and responsibility that are common themes in not only his life, but also the lives of other "prophets", wise men, and peace-makers. It is this knowledge that inspires me to treat myself and others with the dignity deserved. It inspires me to inspire others to do the same, not in the name of some big omnipotent bearded guy looking down on me, but instead for the sake of what is and what could be.
My "God" is more a nebulous bundle of airy truth and good will than it is anything else. It does not demand allegiance to a specific religion. It does not threaten with an eternity of pain and suffering. It exists to inspire and lead. It's promises are that of a fulfilling life, one in which you can inspire as it does, earn respect as it does, and make the world something larger and better than it would have been without you.
Do I fear death? Hell, yes! It is unknown, unrevealed, and just downright scary. I do not look forward to what I imagine will be several minutes of pain and panic before I slip into either eternity or oblivion. It saddens me no end to think that I will not be able to watch the world grow into it's full potential and the thing of my dreams. I fear being forgotten. Death may only be the end of personal choice, but to be forgotten is the end of existence.
"Giving without receiving? Sounds pretty stupid. What's the point if you don't go to heaven?"
The men I respect, Jesus included, were out to save their fellow men, not themselves. My "pot of gold" is also the promise of something better: better for my children, and my neighbor's children, and their children, and so on and so forth. The opportunity to be a part of creating that better world is what I find noble and rewarding,... though having the entire western culture center their calendar and philosophies around your life and death ain't a bad consolation prize.
It is far nobler to do good for good's sake than to do good for one's own sake.
The biggest mistake anyone can make in this country is to be kind. Benevolence is a weakness. Compromise is for those who have no pride and no reason to have it. The moment you have shown an ounce of politeness to someone, you have lost. You are their proverbial "bitch".
The best case scenario: You aren't a sad sack and aren't desperate for friends and are not easily used. If you give, you still have set a precedent in which you are giving and the other is taking. Soon enough, that boundary will be tested. It will be pushed and pushed until you are the subject of disrespect, inconsideration, and generally seen as the gimpy gofer.
You have two choices: Fill the role, or react.
For some of us, accepting crap forced down our throat on a regular basis isn't an option, and reaction is all that's left. But there-in lies the problem. The gimpy gofer doesn't react. That's not allowed. So your reaction to abuse will be met with disdain and judgment. "You don't have feelings. Your not good enough to have feelings, You are the pleaser in the relationship." It will be said. Not in those words, but none-the-less, it will be said and the person saying will feel perfectly justified.
My advice to anyone wanting to not be destroyed by madness, starving and hysterical. Simply demand things constantly. You are the world's only child and it should cater to you. Don't let anyone think for a second that their companionship or even presence is wanted in your life. Simply tolerate them. If they are doing something you don't want to do, leave or complain incessantly. This will imply that they are not worth your time and are only an acquaintance of convenience.
A warning, your friends may fight back. Put them in their place. Make sure they know they are inferior. If they use logic or attempt to assert themselves, just repeat yourself, but with a look of disdain. It's worked for the Republican party for some time now. You don't have to be right, compromise, or care. You are better. That is enough.
You may lose a few friends along the way, but don't worry about it. They're just pansy little whiners anyway, probably bitter from being born inferior. Besides, you don't want to be competing with your friends for alpha position, just let the ones that won't subjugate themselves go. There will be others.
FragileBob's Christmas List (The Most Important One)
December 2nd, 2005
Top of the list: Not Crap (I can make my own and do nearly twice a day)
Xbox 360 Premium / Platinum (The good one)
2nd Controller
Kameo for Xbox 360
Perfect Dark Zero for Xbox 360
1 GB Secure Digital Memory Card for Digital Stills on my Camcorder
(Check pricewatch.com for good prices 'Memory - Flash' -> 'Secure Digital 1gb')
A nice Acoustic Guitar (get Pornie to help you pick it out, he knows what to get and how to get it - the guitar that is)
Bitchin Laptop - like Alienware or something (so I can hock my old crappy one on eBay)
Money for China (the trip to it, not my new bodybuilder wrestling girlfriend)
Learning Chinese Software /CDs/ etc (because thats what they speak in the China place)
Bitchin Overpriced Digital Camera (something I can use with my current lense would be ideal because I ain't spending more money 'cause I aint got it cause I'm a lazy so sue me)
Nice Socks - not dress socks but cool, comfortable socks (preferrably not white, but earthy colors, because they're gonna end up that way anyway)
An infinite supply of 0 Calorie Pasta.... mmmm.... or dinner at Cafe Luna and a toothbrush :D
Books Charles Stross The Atrocity Archives
Accelerando
Singularity Sky
Marc D. Giller
Prodigal
Robert Crais
The Forgotten Man*
Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child
Dance of Death*
John Sanford
Broken Prey*
James Lee Burke Crusader's Cross
Michael Connelly
The Closers
Lauren Henderson
Sam Jones series
Dead White Female (1995)
The Black Rubber Dress (1997)
The Strawberry Tattoo (1999)
Too Many Blondes (2002)
Kristine Kathryn Rusch
Retrieval Artist series
The Retrieval Artist: And Other Stories (2002)
Peter Watts
Rifters Trilogy
Behemoth: B-Max
Behemoth: Seppuku
George Foy
Contraband (SF)
Challenge (fiction)
Asia Rip (mystery)
Shift (SF)
The Last Harbor (SF)
Coaster (fiction)
Kathleen Ann Goonan
Queen City Jazz
The Bones Of Time
Mississippi Blues
Crescent City Rhapsody
Jack O'Connell
Box Nine
Wireless
The Skin Palace
Stephen Baxter
A Time Odyssey
Time's Eye
Sunstorm
* Signed first editions for these and perhaps others available at Mysterious Galaxy
Music Nirvana - Nirvana
Javid - Silk Road
Javid - Gypsy Flame/Volume II
Javid - Gypsy Flame
Javid - Lunar Eclipse (see www.javidflamenco.com or Tower Records)
Jamiroquai - Travelling Without Moving
Soundtrack to "Babes in Arms"
Ultra Music Festival 2004 on DVD (The UMF 2004 DVD Barnes And Noble)
Video Track Listing
Running Time: 1:33
1. "Freedom" - Kevens
2. "Repeat to Specify" - Sander Kleinenberg
3. "Original Jungle Sound" - Switched Special Forces Phototek Mix
4. "The End" - Junkie XL
5. "Breezer" - Junkie XL featuring Shahsa
6. "Beauty Never Fades" - Tiesto featuring BT
7. "Love Comes Again" - Rabbit in the Moon
8. "Mind Fuct (Hypobunny) Hypnotized" - Paul Oakenfold
9. "S19 Acid "- Josh Wink
10. "Time Of Our Lives" (UK Club Mix) - Paul van Dyk
11. "Dubassex (Whish You Were Here)" - Rabbit in the Moon
12. "Jax" - Baby Anne
13. "Traffic" - Tiesto
14. "Montana's War" - Cartel
15. "O.B.E. (Out Of Body Experience)" - Rabbit in the Moon
16. "Southern Sun" - Paul Oakenfold
17. "Crush" (Vandit Club Mix) - Paul van Dyk
Junky XL - Radio JXL: A Broadcast From the Computer Hell Cabin
Junky XL - Saturday Teenage Kick
Paul Oakenfold - Great Wall
Paul Oakenfold - Voyage into Trance
Paul Oakenfold - Creamfields
Paul Van Dyk - Vorsprung Dyk Technik 92-98
Paul Van Dyk - The Politics of Dancing
Tiesto - Just Be
DJ Baby Anne - Mixtress
Computer / iPod Stuff
Podtender 3.0 (drink recipes for iPod) ($10.00 for full version)
Download Details
Company: Enrique Quintero Design
Version: 3.0
Transit from M-Audio (USB to digital audio converter)
Sigh... Last time the Xbox was released, I went out and bought one that night. It was no big deal. Just shelled out the cash and got it on a whim. Just as I had this time around, I had convinced myself I really didn't care about video games that much, and wouldn't need it the moment it was released, even with the anticipation of Halo a pseudo-sequel to my favorite OG first person shooter, Marathon, by makers at Bungie. So, I didn't reserve one. But, I underestimated it's drawing power, despite the fact that Xbox was a Microsoft endeavor. <shakes fist> I crumbled and bought it that night... with extra controllers, Halo, and Munch's Odyssey.
This year is a bit more of a problem. I should have reserved one, or four for that matter. The Xbox 360 Platinum is going for $600 to $1,000 on Ebay. $200 to $600 more than it's retail price 2 days ago. Even the relatively crappy Xbox core system (initial cost $299) is being sold for a $200 to $300 dollar profit on Ebay.
It seems that Christmas is the best time of the year to horde those big draw items and gouge random people. What nobler way to celebrate the birth of Christ :D. Oh well, God knows if I had an Xbox 360 or two, or fifty, I'd be hocking them on Ebay as well. Gotta admit, the games do look pretty friggin bad-assed, especially the cheesy stuff like Kameo. Haven't dorked out on a nice old fashioned Dungeons and Dragons style magical fantasy game in quite awhile... and it may be awhile yet.
Ever notice how women want things... For those of you who know her, here's how you can please her this holiday season. Call or email me to let me know what you're getting and I'll make sure no-one else gets the same. fragilebob[at sign]fragilebob.com.
C.D.S (in order of most wanted to least wanted)
James Brown's Greatest Hits
Frank Sinatra's Greatest Hits
MatisYahu (Live at Stubbs)
Death Cab for Cutie (Plans)
Massive Attack (Protection or Mezzanine or No Protection: Massive Attack vs. Mad Professor)
Arcade Fire (The Arcade Fire)
Everything But the Girl (Like the Deserts Miss the Rain)
Pinback (Summer in Abandon)
The Bravery (The Bravery)
Phish (Billy Breathes)
Violent Femmes (Deluxe Edition)
A.F.I. (most recent)
D.V.D.S (in the order of most wanted to least wanted)
The Adventure of Icabod & Mr. Toad
Make Mine Music "Peter & the Wolf"
The Tigger Movie
The Incredibles
American Legends
Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind
Aristocats
Heavy Weights
Bambi
Who Framed Roger Rabbit
The Great Mouse Detective
The Rescuers
The Sword in the Stone
Dumbo
The Fox & the Hound
The Three Caballeros
National Treasure
Swiss Family Robinson
The Emperor's New Groove
Blackbeard's Ghost
Darby O'Gill & the Little People
Any of the X-files seasons
Scrubs
Art Supplies (these items can be found at www.dickblick.com but you may find competitive prices at www.misterart.com or you can also go to "The Art Store" downtown. Aaron Brothers is a rip off & Michaels probably doesn't have some of the items.)
Windsor Newton Artisan Oil Paints
A book on color theory
A book on artist's supplies
A combo drafting table/easel
Gift Certificates Victoria's Secret
Aveda (for Salon services)
Chuao Chocolatier
Whole Foods
Trader Joes
Henry's Marketplace
Miscellaneous Money for new tires
Money for new contacts
No. I said 'allo, but I'm up for some beatdowns and teabagging!
Ok, for those of you who don't know, even despite selling out to Microsoft, Bungie rocks! This is no n00b, newb, nub, or noob-speak. While the rest of you lazily looked only left and right in Doom :P, I had to aim in 2 dimensions in order to get my game on (in millions of colors no less). I remember when Foundation was a Marathon 2 mulitplayer level and you could listen to your companions scream thier holiday cheer in a haunting rendition of Jingle Bells. The S'pht were awesome, Juggernauts were independent flying tanks with heat seaking missiles, and enemies could be placed in mulitplayer levels with respawn time or triggered poly's. Ooohh, it was fun!
By the way, I am Fragilebob in the halo 2 realm as well. Props to Marshall Beachy for his outsatnding work on the below bungie stats rss feed flash translator. FragilePornstar, FragileBill, and FragilePoet are all Fragiles too. Feel free to add us to your friends lists if you arent redneck, hompohobic, judgmental, or just an ass in general. We like fun games with decent players, but we'll tolerate the worst with a smile and a laugh (and maybe a group squat around the corpse).
Wal-mart is to the world community what air is to Spongebob.
I shopped at Wal-mart once in the last year. It was 2 in the morning and I had a hankering for an item that could only be found there at that late an hour (another x-box live account for a friend - halo rocks!) but I was still rather ashamed...
Yesterday afternoon, Fragilegirlfriend and I saw a grassroots screening of "Wal-mart: The High Price of Low Cost". It was fairly infuriating. Touched on were the following:
The Obliteration of Mom and Pop Shops
Featured were companies that had been in business for nearly 50 years with treasured and well treated employees and real family and community values, forced to close within months of local Wal-mart openings.
The Negative Impact on Local Property Value
As soon as a Wal-mart is opened, the property value in the area plummets. The reason: the sheer anticipation of the closures of all local shops causes banks and investors to devalue the area. The way they see it, plenty of space will soon be available soon enough.
Ludicrous Anti-Union Measures
Security cameras set up to monitor and deter union talk
Withholding scheduled raises for all employees when unionization is suspected - this is explained by Wal-mart as not bribing those employees to vote against unionization.
Anti-union propaganda in Wal-mart training videos
Mass hiring before union votes - this ensures that even if the existing employees are ready to organize, the new hirees will be unready to commit to such an endeavor
A private jet and anti-union response team to fly to any location at any time to prevent unionization or even union talk amongst employees - this sounds far-fetched, but I assure you, it exists.
Wal-Mart closed it's company-wide meat-cutting division after ten butchers in Texas voted to unionize their shop. Wal-Mart also closed a profitable Canadian store in 2004 after employees chose union representation. - Associated Press, 3/30/00;2/09/05
Disregard for Community Safety
Wal-mart's security cameras are for preventing unionization and theft only. The cameras in the lot have detected crimes that resulted in murder with no attempt to stop or report the occurrences. The stores have invested in studies and measures that have resulted in over 80% of the crime to be committed outside the Wal-mart store in the parking lots.
The solution found in the studies to reduce crime to 0% - put a security guard in the parking lot with a golf cart. Measures taken independently - none.
Less than half of Wal-mart employees are covered by Wal-mart's health plan. This is compared with average large companies employee coverage being almost 70%. - www.walmartfacts.com
Why? Simple... the employees who do qualify can't afford the healthcare Wal-Mart offers due to large deductables, copays, and additional fees for family members.
Government Assistance Needed for Wal-mart Employees
As the healthcare programs are often unaffordable to the employees and the wages are on average below the poverty line, employees are left seeking government assistance.
Discrimination Against Minorities and Women
Women not only earn less at Wal-mart, but are often passed over for management positions as well (ex: Women comprise 92% of Wal-mart's cashiers, but only 14% of Wal-mart's store managers). - Dukes vs. Wal-mart, walmartclass.com
Additionally, African-Americans are not proportionately employed by Wal-mart when compared with other industry standards (ex: 15% of truck drivers in America are black, while Africa-Americans comprise only 2-3% of Wal-mart's fleet of over 7,800 drivers). - New York Times, 7/14/05; 2005 Wal-Mart Annual Report
Wal-mart Shortchanges Workers
The average pay for a Wal-mart sales associate is $14,000 a year - $1,000 below the poverty line for a family of three.
Wal-Mart reportedly paid $50 million to settle a lawsuit that involved 69,000 workers in CO who had allegedly been forced to work off the clock. In recent years, Wal-Mart has faced legal actions in over thirty states for overtime violations.
A former manager of over 15 years
states that it was common practice for fellow managers to alter time sheets to avoid overtime pay, and that the behavior was a result of systematic pressures.
Wal-Mart Fires Employees Who Report Mistreatment in International Factories
Workers in China can be forced to work 15 hours+ per day, and 7 days per week. When they are up for review the employees must hide these details or be fired or punished.
If this were the result of the factories simply covering up these facts, it would be one things, but this is another systemic problem with Wal-Mart.
The film interviews a Wal-mart employee responsible for traveling from factory to factory to review and report on conditions. He finds himself in tears on his first assignment at the miserable conditions the workers have been forced to endure. Sure that upon his submittal, the situation will be remedied, he informs the company of the problems. The reports are instead repeatedly ignored and the reviewer is "let go".
That's a lot of it anyway. Just one last one for comparison sake:
On average, Costco pays its workers 65% more than Wal-Mart, yet earns more profits per employee - New York Times, 5/3/05; Business Week, 4/12/04.
Long story short. Wal-Mart is evil, corrupt, and just plain lame. The least you can do is not shop there. But for information on being a little more pro-active, here are some links to get started:
www.walmartwatch.com - news postings, activist opportunities, blog, rss feed, and online hub for fighting the negative impact of Wal-mart.
www.wakeupwalmart.com - easy sign-up with your zip code to receive announcements of upcoming actions local to your area
www.walmartmovie.com - buy the film here, signup to host screenings, find screenings, read the blog, etc
I've decided to study abroad, leave my life behind for half a year and absorb another culture. There was a possibility of just moving directly to San Francisco to escape the throngs of flag-waving, cross-bearing, war-mongering mouth breathers in this city, but I'm rather unorganized, and it turns out it's easier to move to China than it is to move upstate. Besides, I figure being in China should give me enough lonely, bored-out-of-my-mind, might-as-well-do-something-productive time to get things in order for the permanent move later.
I don't speak Chinese, Mandarin or Cantonese, but the course is nearly as I can tell, primarily language oriented with some emphasis on culture and optional martial arts studies. By the time I get back I should be communist through and through, and maybe even able to kick the butts of small furry ground dwelling creatures. -->
I've never panhandled before, but since I'm letting everyone in on how pathetic I am anyway, I figured might as well go all the way. So... I take credit cards, paypal account payments, and even girly giggles (send them all to fragilebob[at sign]fragilebob.com) I'll have the donation plea in the right toolbar until enough of you give me money to the point that I feel loved and more like a leach than a victim. Only your guilt-inspiring donations can qualm my indolent greed!
I plomise I'll take you all out for chinese when I get back, and I'll order with my new wicked language skills. For those of you who don't like chinese food, I'll take care of any small furry ground dwelling creatures that may be harassing you.
Kids: The below players are in a monogamous relationship. Beating people is bad. This is simulated.
Parents: Don' t be jealous. After all, they are in a monogamous relationship... and it's still simulated.
(i really do love this picture)
Fragilebob and friends were on the scene, painting the town with a horrific cacophony of drunken wailings!
<-- In this shot, there are 5 buddies and 6 buttery nipples! See if you can find who's got the most buttery nipples!
Oh, yeah! Even Cici came, which was awesome. Karaoke is not her thing, nor is the drinking, but a perfect opportunity to make fun of me in a recorded public forum seemed to be just the right motivator. Next time, we'll get her to sing... or at least back up dance. Whatever it takes, though. It's always good to have her around.
Myself, Luke, and Pornie began the night with Queen' s "Bohemian Rhapsody", which is always a crowd-pleaser. It even gave us a chance to get our head bang on!
T-Bear did a nice rendition of "Sunny Came Home", but didn't steal the night 'til later...
A little history on Walmart, my cousin from the Bible belt. He found his fiance with his fraternity brother over a month ago.
Since then, he's been sober for a total of 2 hours, 8 minutes, and 48 seconds, so it was nice to see him getting rubbed on by someone, even if it was a bunch of skanky boozers.
Luke got in there and got a little second-hand play as well.
<-- Pop joined us just before Cici had to bail :( and she completely missed his wickedly... cool... voice. We did Chris Isaak's Wicked Games which, all kidding aside, is wickedly cool. And if you were an alley cat or extreeeemely drunk, we might have sounded good.
--> T-Bear then did quite a randy version of Blondie's "I Touch Myself". It was complete with pseudo-orgasmic "ooh"s and "oh no"s and lots of gyrating and pointing and winking. All in all, quite adorable.
Pornie, T-Bear's significant other and the center of her attention during this ode to self-love, was eating it up, blushing in his seat, as was every other hot-blooded male in the bar.
Walmarts hoochie-targets left with some other guys. He, Pornie, and I got in a round of Cake's "Never There". We all ended the night with a few games of pool. There was a little vomiting done by the old man outside a Denny's later that night and some spanking and riding in the parking lot as you saw earlier in this entry...
It was a nice night.
Here's to good times with good friends.
I recently visited my old polictical science club and on the agenda was ot set a date for and plan a hosted public forum to discuss the proposition at the college. Sadly, the club had become quite conservative. The young woman charged with designing the poster and flyers advertising the event decided the best way would be to display a picture of an aborted fetus with the words "Prop 73 Forum" beneath it...
Guess who she voted for in the last election.
I sat in the room and smiled chuckling to myself somewhat hysterically and morbidly as the club discussed the posters and the prop as an absolutley neccesary addition to our lawbooks, but to be completely honest, I initially did not completely disagree with this proposition. I could definitely see the reasoning behind it.
It is not always a minor procedure. The psycological and physical impact can be very life changing. I don't think many young women who are equipped to deal with the consequences of such an occurance, or, for that matter, are many people at all.
Minors require parents' consent to participate in other operations and medical procedures, though often less private and definitely carrying less stigma.
God knows if I had a daughter, or even a son who was the father, I would want to know... especially if they were minors living under my roof, not because I would want control of the situation, but because I would want to be prepared for any difficulties and ready to provide any support I could.
The problem is this is not the motive or result that would be achieved. I know enough people who's parents are nothing but bad for them. The only support they offer is judgement. These are families where the "F"-word is freedom. This is a fight with a hidden agenda to demonize abortion and pro-choice dirty liberals.
I came across my friend, Cici's, blog entry concerning California Proposition 73 this morning. She's done her research (I'm so proud <teary-eyed>). She makes some good points. The only fault I can find is that I would have included the word "death" in the italicized text in her arguement.
Oh, and by the way, I don't think "All Republicans are Evil!" as Cici was so kind to relay. I think many are simply ignorant, brainwashed, stupid, or some combination there-of.
So, on Sunday, being the benevolent and giving person I am, I volunteered to break down equipment and tables for the festivities following the AIDS Walk...
As you can see, no good deed goes unpunished.
Yeah, right. It was, of course, all my own wonderful stupidity.
Just to be generally impressive, seeing as how there were only two tables left on the truck to be unloaded (never mind that they were solid wood and 9 feet in length), I decided to bound from the 4 foot step on the truck with one of the tables in tow and stack it myself.
Surprisingly enough, it didn't work as I envisioned. My pride was hurt even more so than the leg of the poor young blonde volunteer I squashed as the table planted itself on the ground with my face right behind it. The young blonde, who we convinced to come and volunteer at the event, was the girlfriend of a member of an honors organization, of which I am a newly elected presiding member. (an impeccable way to display my good leadership quality)
Luckily the squashing blow merely grazed her as her reflexes were better than mine and she escaped relatively unscathed.
Fragilebob (being me), however, leapt to his feet and in an attempt to recover his lost dignity, laughed a bit at himself, checked to ensure that he had not killed anyone and offered jovial apologies to those wounded, and then immediately lifted the table in an awkward fashion and placed it on the nearby stack. It was not until minutes later that he realized the weight of the box of napkins now in his hands was too much for his mangled wrist to bear.
The solution was clear. He continued carrying heavy objects for another fifteen minutes until he gave up and let the rest of the gang in on his sheer pitifulness. All were kind and offered their condolences and genuine pity... Wish I had come out sooner.
So, it will be a running joke for a while. Our next planned group outing is to the bowling alley. One of the VP's did her impression of the SNL Debbie Downer "wah wah" when bowling came up and I mentioned my arm. Sigh. Such a kind and forgiving group.
I haven't blogged/journaled in quite some time. It's such a joke anyway. Life is more about hiding things and less about being honest. The world wants you to fit into a mold that makes them happy... and usually, you partially do.
But there's always more to you, and it's the more you have to hide, cram it up inside the prettier, more acceptable, less emotional, finely masked part of you. Fit into society and pretend that you don't care or you do care, dont give too much hope or give just enough.
"The truth will set you free", it has been said. Which truth? Truth is relative and temporary. What is true to me will shatter you, and what is true today is false tomorrow, even to myself. When can truth-be-told if the price is high and the value fleeting?
Must wandering minds pay higher tolls than homebodies?
As I grow older, inhibition wanes and hesitation waxes. Freedom is but a dream at either end of that spectrum. Is a noble life about accountability or responsibility? For that matter, is nobility a worthy goal?
What chemicals or rueful mistakes have changed me so that contentment seems no longer an attainable goal.
I got up earlier than normal yesterday (as I was laid off a few months ago and have started sleeping in a little later everyday). I got in my car and started to drive over to pick up a friend of mine who was dropping his car off for service. As I turned onto the on-ramp to get onto the freeway, I felt a sudden surge of nostalgia. I was on my way into work, and I was happy about it!
My last job consisted of putting up with a group of self-important salesmen who constantly tried to delude themselves or everyone else around them into thinking they were saving the world (I can't decide which yet, but that will have to be another entry). If that was their only problem, it would have been much like any other job, but these people were animals... and quite proud of it.
"He's weak. She's a pussy. If we lie like this, we can get away with that. If we threaten him, we can get the upper hand. I'm rich and could have you killed! We don't actually have to enforce those policies, but we'll put them into the policies and procedures to keep the law off our back. I can do your job, I just don't know how - but I can learn in twenty minutes what took you five years." Keep in mind that the FDA would have been involved in some of these issues and that peoples lives are at risk regardless of idle threats.
The company was run by the family, the only positive being they were only in once or twice a week to be avoided. They hid behind their Morman faith in god when scruples came into question. The grandpa (Founder) and daddy (CEO) constantly battled over the company, and gave everyone two sets of instructions, and therefore twice as much work which increased exponentially at conflict junctions. Eventually the CEO got sidetracked with the secretary (who became a VP in 6 months) and the founder won out and has been micromanaging everyone and everything into oblivion, attempting to leave behind a legacy in his few remaining years (god speed).
He would walk and talk with his employees and each time he'd pass the 12 foot family photograph in the lobby of himself with all his little spoiled and misguided grand-runts kneeling at the bottom of this pyramid of mediocrity, he would say, "Look. Those are the people who will be running the company someday."
These were 3 and 5-year-olds he pointed to, and his words roughly translated into, "You will never have any power or position of meaning in this company. This is a monarchy. We are blue-bloods. You are shit. You should be happy you have even have this dead-end job where you can bask in our glory." But he smiled and got teary-eyed as he said it, which, as any christian or salesman knows, makes it all ok.
These were only the most minor of and most easily verbalized problems with the company and doesn't even touch on what made it my personal hell. Needless to say, this was a place that sucked my soul from my body, pulverized it between it's rotting and crooked molars, and pushed it into into it's black stomach with it's twisted tongue to digest in a lake of fiery acid for a thousand years...
The day I was let go, there was no warning and no severance pay. They tried to screw me as much as they could. Tensions had been building, and the words "lay off" were simply used to avoid litigation. And when it happed, I rejoiced. My soul was now mine to do with as I willed. I had never had a more relieving day.
And now, I sit in my car reminiscing about driving into work.
I suppose it's not so odd. We are creatures of habit. Patterns make us happy and content... to a degree. And after all, there were nice things around the office. A few of the lower echelons and even one of the higher up's were pleasant enough. But all in all, it was hell.
The one thing this has made me question is my devotion to the notion that my childhood was a thousand times more wonderful than is adult life. Innocence vs. experience. The lamb, the tiger, the poison tree... Was any of it real or do I suffer selective amnesia built into my physical makeup to keep me from going insane when caught up in the hopelessness of both the present and the past.
I guess the real question is, "Was the past as horrible as is the present... or is the present as horrible as the past...?"
Yeah, so the update is late. These are the after pics. I wouldn't have thought I could get more hot, but I did it!
Anyway, pop dropped out of the bet due to unfortunate physical events - "Water on the knee?... Operation!" So send your vote to mostimproved@fragilebob.com.
Watch as Michael Angelo slowly carves David trapped inside the piece of marble... very, very slowly. go to the before pic
Are idiots kept awake at night with the details of their days and their self proclaimed deficiencies?
Is the analytical mind a hindrance?
In my humble (and correct) opinion, no, yes, and no.
Sadly, a close and truly respected friend has adopted an opposing opinion. The true tragedy is the characteristics I respect most are those she considers a burden.
The inability to sleep at night was one example of the curse of an overactive mind. But... I've known stupid people, lot's of stupid people. I've lived with stupid people. And, yes, they exist. Not all opinions are valid. Not everyone has at least one of some 7 made up redeeming intelligences. People who's opinions (after being privy to fact and evidence) continue to conflict with reality are just plain dumb.
But, back to my original point. I've lived with these poor beings and they lie awake as well counting malformed and hapless sheep as they stumble and entwine themselves in the fence they strive to overcome. The only difference is their sheep confuse them. There is no light at the end of that wooly tunnel. Appifinies are few and far between in the pasture of dumb.
Enough lecture though. The real reason for the entry is only to vent sorrow. My friend is an amazing person, humble and smart, quick and sharp. She strives for self-improvement, and her idea of it does not include a new wardrobe or richer husband, which in this town is quite rare and remarkable.
My girlfriend submitted that she's an east-coaster raised in a sty of a town, a metropolitan girl stuck in a republican whore of a city, which I think is quite apt. Someday, I hope she finds a home that respects her as we do. It's a perspective she deserves.
In our arguing the pros and cons of intelligence, she asked me if I was happy with myself... Fact of the matter is: I am. It is the world that I'm disappointed in. Sure. I've made my own mistakes and I mull them over and grind them through the gears of my mind into a sandy grit that lines the bottom of my skull. But that filters out in time as do grains from an hourglass, and all that's left is a lesson learned... that and a lot of gritty crap in my heart, but that detracts from my point, so try to ignore it.
More than likely, I'm far too proud of my station. I've over-romanticized my own insanity into a savior complex of megalomaniac proportions. But (in my head, at least... and I am always right), at the end of the day, it won't be the mindless George W's of the world that save it. It will be people like my friends and myself.
A hero is stereotyped as a man of action... not necessarily a thinker, but that's not always a negative either, even to the masses. Regardless, someone programmed that hero, taught him right from wrong, tried to teach him not only the why of things, but also to discover why for himself and defend the answers he found. So I ask , "Is the thinker, the teacher, any less of a hero?"
Stupidity and Ignorance
Benefits:
1) Shiny things bring excitement verging on that of sexual climax.
2)
Political decisions are easy as you can just vote for the "cuter" candidate.
3) People only ask questions once, then generally leave you alone.
It occurred to me in the late hours of the night that we are born, live a while as children, and then begin digging our own graves. From that point on, we spend our entire lives in suits and ties shoveling away the dirt in a graveyard at twilight, tending our plots, carving our tombstone, striving to leave an impression on the next generation, proof that we existed, each too busy to acknowledge the person next to them digging their own plot, struggling in vain to do the same.
Some are able only to throw a few twigs and leaves into the gutter to soften their fall before they collapse, fall into it and begin to rot.
Some luckier dig a proper hole and put their name in stone. Sadly, most burial plots are just rentals. Eventually the body will be exhumed and another will fill it's place. The tombstone will be discarded. The body will be burned or studied and discarded. In the end, no physical evidence will be left that we ever lived at all.
Finally, there are a few with legacies who build themselves a mausoleum or crypt on protected grounds. Men of high office. Noble or evil, it matters not. Presidents. Kings. Pharaohs. All of whom were able not only to make history with action, but obtained the influence to write it as well.
Still, governments are overthrown. Statues crumble. Space is limited. Not since the ancient Egyptians has anything truly withstood the test of time, and even their bodies have been dug up, carted around the world on display. The monuments await war or catastrophe, balancing on the precipice of their inevitable destruction, ready for another global amnesia.
It seems that anyone's best hopes of finding immortality lie in dying on a cross, being misquoted and misunderstood, and being placed on bumper stickers which are then used as badges by the people you spoke against in your lifetime as license to judge, hate, and act irresponsibly.
The little lady and I have a wager in progress. At the end of the month, whoever improves the most, not just loses the most weight or is just generally hotter, but who actually improves the most aesthetically between the end of June and the end of July wins.
"What do they win," you ask?
"None of your damn business," I respond.
But you get to be a part of it. You, the adoring public will vote to determine who has improved the most at the end of the competition. For your viewing pleasure, below are the before pictures. Don't get too hot and bothered checking out the caucasian Adonis. Sorry ladies. He's taken.
I submit that, had Atlas carried the world in his stomach, he might have looked something like this.
I know. She's hot. Not much I can do about it. I'll try to point out flaws later when you see the after picture. She's got a little belly at least.
This being my first entry, I thought I'd begin with something that properly quantifies my particular damage.
See this glass (the picture of the glass has been omitted because it may play into the carrying out of my fate). I avoid drinking from this glass or any shaped exactly like it.
"Why," you may ask, "would you avoid drinking from this kind of glass? Has it done something to hurt you? Has something disgusting or unsavory happened to it? Is the glass cracked or unstable?"
Cracked? Yes. Unstable? I'd like to think so. Unsavory? Oh, my. Without a doubt. But then, I'm not talking about the glass anymore, am I. While I wish that I could tell you that this particular type of glass has been tested for safety and that studies have proven it to be made of a poisonous flesh eating bacteria that is prone to spontaneous combustion in the presence of saliva, I sadly cannot. The story behind it is far less horrifying... at least in that manner.
I wanted a drink to go with my breakfast, as any normal person would. I went to the cupboard to select my drinking tool, opened the door, and there it was... the glass. It wasn't alone. It was sitting there among the other glasses, trying to look innocent and inconspicuous. But I knew. I knew that that glass would be the death of me...
No, there is nothing more to it, I just knew it at that moment. It occurred to me in those specific words, "That glass will be the death of you." And when your inner voice says "you" and not "me", you've got to take it seriously. Or at least "I" think that you do. It hasn't told me one way or the other whether I'm right about that.
I have been avoiding using that glass or any in the matching set (because god knows which one it was or if I was meant to avoid it or the ones like it as well) for a few months now. If I go to the cupboard and there are only glasses of that type still clean, I'll clean another glass or go thirsty. I'll actually wonder if the other glasses that I choose in lieu of the tainted ones are tainted as well, that the evil glasses are tricking me into using the innocuous ones in some elaborate ploy to destroy me.
I became convinced that the glasses were conspirating in such a way that my avoidance of them was no less playing into their hands than drinking directly from them. It was either that fact or that I got brave, but once or twice I broke down and told myself that it would be "healthy" for me to use the glass and prove myself, or the other myself, wrong. But shortly after testing my theory and using one, I got pretty violently ill. In fact, it's two months later and I'm suffering from a lingering bronchitis.
Undoubtedly, it's a coincidence. I know it is. My rational mind tells me I'm completely off my rocker, or at least delightfully and privately quirky. But for someone who lets something as insane as "That glass will be the death of you" linger in their head for several months and affect their actions to the point of physical inconvenience, that type of coincidence is hard to overlook.
That said - Scrubs + Michael J. Fox = Nice
At least I don't flush the toilet with my foot...
Oh, yeah...
I do...
Never mind.
frag·ileadj. - Lacking physical or emotional strength; delicate
bob - A common name, often short for Robert, which carries various historical and proverbial connotations undistinguishable from one another in the grand scheme of life, the universe, and everything.
Less importanly, a search for the meaning of bob also returns more than 20 definitions as verbs, nouns, and adjectives, making it undiscernable from the other myriad of bob's when taken out of context.
Together fragile and bob create the hopless, futile, and unimportant (yet pathetically self-indulgent) being, "Fragilebob", who balances on a precipice holding what he perceives to be the weight of Atlas' burden upon his meek glass frame as the sword of Damocles slowly dangles from the finest ass-hairs of god like a deadly dingleberry. Fragilebob knows this defacant shard rests poised to destroy him should he forget his humility or penance and stumble but one centimeter from his eternal duty of self-deprecation and sacrifice.
Send Fragilebob To China!
There has been an overwhelming demand to get rid of this tragic reminder of what America can do to a mind with no substantial denial techniques.
But, as it turns out, Fragilebob is just a poor boy from a poor family. Spare him his life from this monstrosity. Will you let him go?
Fragilebob's Napolean Dynamite Character Quiz Result
I am Napoleon Dyanamite and a buttload of gangs
are trying to recruit me.
Current Vote(Outhotted)
83% Fragilebob
17% The Girlfriend
By irritatingly popular demand, here are the before and after pics side by side. So get of your duff and send your votes to mostimproved@fragilebob.com
Before
V
After
V
Fragilebob
The Girlfriend
If you must see the larger pics side by side, click here you whiney little expletives.
There are too few, and my pain, my desires for oblivion, revenge, and transferral of spirit into those who would be more productive with it than I don't yet outweigh what I once called my optimism and hope, but have come to realize is only my basest animal self-protection afforded me by my egotistical and delusional psyche and fear of 'final disappointment'... "Is that all there is?" - peggy lee. 
The Reason
I would like to announce I have received my first donation to my Chinese Study Abroad Shanghai Adventure Fund! All I had to do was post my girlfriend's cleavage and whine! $5.90 is now the the donation to beat, boys and girls. 
So fun.. So fun...
If the buttload doesn't work, you'll have to plunge. This is not as easy as it sounds. You first have to remove the over flow plate -->
You'll need to plug the overflow tube before you start plunging. Forget this step and you'll end up with a face full of wet sludge, so don't... or send me a picture and I'll post it. 
If the draino was tainted, you have a face of wet sludge-covered rag, and you were unsuccessful in guilting surrounding bystanders into completing the task for you, it's time to purchase an auger cable (sometimes known as a pipe-snake... :D ooh-la-la). --> 
You'll feed the auger cable into the overflow tube (or your pipe-snake into the hole). Apply only slight pressure at any resistance while turning clockwise to clear obstructions or navigate sharp turns (isn't it amazing how similar pipe-snake and trouser-snake usage is). 
At some point pull the snake back out, turning counterclockwise at resistance. Invariably, you'll pull back some nasty goop, so clean off your snake. 
+
=
No. I said 'allo, but I'm up for some beatdowns and teabagging!
I don't speak Chinese, Mandarin or Cantonese, but the course is nearly as I can tell, primarily language oriented with some emphasis on culture and optional martial arts studies. By the time I get back I should be communist through and through, and maybe even able to kick the butts of small furry ground dwelling creatures. --> 
Fragilebob and friends were on the scene, painting the town with a horrific cacophony of drunken wailings! 
<-- Pop joined us just before 
Walmarts hoochie-targets left with some other guys. He, Pornie, and I got in a round of 
As you can see, no good deed goes unpunished.
