Tuesday, December 27, 2005

I picked up a strange dog the other day. I usually hate doing that kind of thing, but it was for someone I didn't really know, and they were losing their dog because of me. So I picked it up.

Grocery shopping. Its relatively fun. You get to try a few new things, and maybe you'll find something cool. Like flan. I found flan yesterday. The spanish custard. I think I'll name my kid Flan. Or at a friend's suggestion, Love. Then he'd be Love Jones. That'd be funny for at least the first six months of his life. Then he'd hate me. Which would give me a jump on the teen years at least.

Life is like the current. You can fight all day long if you want, but in the end, you always end up going where it takes you.

Which makes me wonder what type of parent I would be. My first inclination would be to raise my son the way I was raised. To be a dictator father whose wrath is to be feared only second to God's. Honestly, until I turned twenty one, I was afraid of my father. I didn't want to tell him where I was because I was afraid he'd be upset, or that he'd tell me to come home. I guess at some point, I realized I could pretty much go and do what I wanted with impunity, but still. . .my dad scared me. I would lie cheat and steal not to have my dad find out about what I'd done that was wrong. Good example: When I was in fifth grade, I used to get a lot of detentions. I took the first one I got home. My dad was pretty furious. There was a beating involved, and a lot of yelling. I felt horrible, like not just a mischievous son, but a bad human being whose worth was debatable. A few weeks later, I got another detention. I literally cried in class upon receiving it. I did not want to take this home, to tell my dad that I was yet again a failure. A kid who lived up the street from me, who I'll call Coop, he was pretty sympathetic to my plight. Mainly because he'd met my father. So he told me to go talk to the teacher about something. And he stole the pink slip (the teachers copy) of my detention slip. We threw the whole thing into the gutter at the top of the street. I liked Coop. Whenever he got detention, I'd steal his slips, and whenever I got detention he'd do the same for me. We got a lot a detention and didn't serve any of it.

My point, I guess, is that I didn't modify my behavior because of my fear of my father and the punishment I'd receive. I just started to lie and steal because of it. So I don't think that made me a better person. The more I really think about it, the more I think that I, as a parent, would do much more good if I just reassured my son/daughter that I loved them, and that their actions make me sad or happy, not just angry. If I'd known, like I know now, that my actions made my dad sad or disappointed, I'd never have gotten detention, period. And when I think back to all the things I forged, stole, lied about, or just plain covered up to keep my father from knowing what a bad human being I am, it makes me wonder if I truly am a "better" person because of it today.

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Monday, December 19, 2005

You miss me? No not really.

"What are you laughing at?"
"Nothing really."
"No, don't tell me that you're laughing at nothing. You can't laugh at nothing. Nothing isn't funny. Nothing doesn't make you laugh. So obviously you're laughing at something."
"First, nothing is funny. Like that Twilight Zone episode, where everyone dies in a nuclear holocaust but that one man, and he finally feels as if he has time to read, without all the hassles of life, but then he breaks his glasses. What does he have left that? Nothing. And that, my friend, is hilarious."
"That's not hilarious, that's sad, and you're a sick man to find that kind of humor hilarious. You didn't even think it was mildy funny, you think that its hilarious. Seriously, I don't know what's wrong with you sometimes. . ."
"Secondly, I wasn't laughing. Laughing requires belly movement, and loud peals. I was more chuckling, or even though I know it sounds totally gay, I was giggling."
"You're right, it does sound gay. You're absolutely right that 'giggling' sounds gay. Little school girls giggle while they pass notes in class. Nuns giggle when they hear a particularly clean Bible joke involving Goliath and the Virgin Mary or something. . ."
"Goliath and the Virgin Mary? What are you even talking about? They're from two different eras in the. . ."
"Look, I don't sit around reading jokes involving Bible characters. I'm not in the business of entertaining nuns with clean Bible jokes, am I?
"I didn't say you did, but surely you know something about the Bible. Like Goliath is towards the front, and Mary doesn't get involved till almost the end?"
"Look, what exactly were you laughing at? I don't have time to sit here and argue about what I do and do not know about clean Bible jokes for nuns."
"I wasn't laughing, I was chuckling."
"Okay, fine, what were you 'chuckling' about?"
"None of your business."
"None of my. . .none of my. . .what do you mean, 'none of my business'? What did you take that giggling school girl persona to heart? Do I have to write you a folded up letter that has hearts and one word in the middle?"
"If you don't know how to ask, then I don't know how to answer."
"Oh, I know how to ask, and I just did. What were you giggling about Bobby Sue? How about that, did you like when I called you Bobby Sue? What about Peggy Jean?"
"Look, you don't need to start throwing insults, or calling names. . ."
"Why not? 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me' right? Isn't that how that schoolgirl stuff goes?"
"Alright look, you're starting to push me a little too far, and believe me. . ."
"Am I? Well, I don't particularly care. You know why?"
"No, no I don't. So tell me. Why? Why don't you care?"
"Because its not any of my business that's why."
"You know what, you are one seriously sick jerk."
"I'm sick? I'm the sick one? No, I'm not the one who thinks they're a schoolgirl, giggling and passing notes about how dreamy Brad's eyes are."
"It wasn't a giggle."
"Oh it wasn't? What was it then?"
"I told you twice already, I chuckled and if you'd just ask nicely, maybe with a please, or even in the form of an inquiry, any inquiry imaginable, then I'd tell what I chuckled over."
"Okay, fine. What, pray tell, were you chuckling about?"
"That's better, but you forgot. . ."
"PLEASE!! Alright, are you happy now? PLEASE!!!"
"Thank you. You know how the major holiday's all center around eating, because, this is America, and that's what we do. We eat. There's nothing else we should do at all but eat. But you know, the two major holidays involve turkey. There's never a holiday where people just sit down and attack a chicken or a cow. And I was thinking, you know, kinda dreaming really, about a chicken a cow, a pilgrim and like, I don't know, Santa Claus, you know some kinda authority over Christmas, because we know its not Jesus, all kinda sitting around at a board room table, with the lights dimmed, kinda agreeing to a deal. Like the cows will bring in turkey's and geese, and the chickens will make sure they never realize this deal happened. That's when I started chuckling."
"I can't believe you made me ask nicely for that. Shut up, stop thinking, and lets get out of here."
"Let's go."

Thursday, December 15, 2005

I totally stole this first part because the place I stole it from said it better than I ever could:

this guy:

evolved into this guy:

and made this pretty awesome cd:

Which you can acquire here and here. Seriously, give it a shot. It's actually a pleasant little EP. No, he did not die of a heroin overdose back in 1999, which was the biggest bunch of crap I've ever heard. Apparently he's still having trouble getting people to believe he's still alive. Quite a fun little story: apparently he was at a party one day, and he heard the Flaming Lips album The Soft Bulletin whic touched him so deply that he quit his day job (see picture #1), and started working with the Flaming Lips on his new music.

But for those of us who like to rock (hard) to the Darkness, we've got One Way Ticket to Hell... And Back, plus a lot of bootlegs here.

And that's all the free music you get for today.

Monday, December 12, 2005

Javann, if you liked the little comment I left a couple posts ago, maybe you'll also enjoy the children's book I'm in the process of writing. It's called The Adventures of Damon the Tooth: Love Doesn't Exist. Because kids need to know these things. Of course, it's not finished. This is about the first half. Oddly enough, I'm having trouble writing a happy ending. I'm getting Jon Houser to illistrate it with artwork.

Page one
Picture: Damon looking sad.

Text: Damon the Tooth is in limbic-limbo. Recent events of his life have convinced him that “Love” doesn’t exist!

Page two
Picture: The duck and the fox are cuddling outdoors while Damon is watching them from a distance with a resentful look on his face.

Text: The Duck and the Fox are in love.

Page three
Picture: The duck and the fox are talking to Damon.

Text: “You should go find a pretty lady-tooth to be friends with, Damon!” said the Duck.

“Land ho!” said the Fox.

Page four
Picture: Damon holding up his hands defensively so as to explain himself whiles the duck and the fox listen.

Text: “Well I’d love to, friends. But unfortunately ‘Love’ doesn’t exist!” said Damon with confidence.

Page five
Picture: The duck and the fox have looks on there faces as if they’re trying to convince Damon of something. Damon has a look indicating that he’s listening to them attentively.

Text: “Why, of course love exists!” said the Fox.

Page Six
Picture: Damon with his pointer finger up and his eyes closed, looking very resolute. The Duck and the Fox are watching him, listening.

Text: “Nay, friends!” exclaimed Damon. “’Love’ is a metaphysical speculation that we use to mask other individuals shortcomings! It is merely the tangible being romanticized into the abstract! Indeed, ‘Love’ is nothing but a ridiculous biochemical reaction!”

Page seven
Picture: The duck and the fox have looks on there faces as if they’re trying to convince Damon of something. Damon has a look indicating that he’s listening to them attentively.

Text: The Fox didn’t believe Damon. “No way, Damon! What about the great feeling I get inside whenever I’m with the Duck? What about those times when I’m so in love with the Duck that I can’t think strait? That is love!”

Page eight
Picture: Damon with his pointer finger up, his eyes closed, and his mouth open as if in mid-speak, looking very resolute. The Duck and the Fox are watching him, listening.

Text: “Actually that great feeling is the neurotransmitter dopamine flooding your frontal lobe! This interferes with logical thought processes and can thus addle your thinking abilities (those moments you can’t think straight you’re so in love!). It can also cause problems in the central nervous system causing your hands to shake or your knees to wobble (I’m trembling, I’m so in love!). So you see, the Fox, ‘Love’ doesn’t exist!”

Page nine
Picture: duck and the fox have looks on there faces as if they’re trying to convince Damon of something. Damon has a look indicating that he’s listening to them attentively.

Text: “But every time I’m with the Fox my heart is racing!” said the Duck. “When I’m with the Fox I feel like everything is going to be okay! That is love!”

Page ten
Picture: Damon with his pointer finger up, his eyes closed, and his mouth open as if in mid-speak, looking very resolute. The Duck and the Fox are watching him, listening.

Text: “Actually that’s simply what happens when norepinephrine, epinephrine, and phenylethylamine create a surge that causes your limbic system* to take over!” said Damon the Tooth. “You see, this causes a shift in brain power away from the cortex and thus you begin doing crazy, illogical things that you normally would not do because you’re “so in love.” That, friends, is ‘Love’!”

* A group of brain structures. The system is activated by motivated behavior and arousal, and it influences the endocrine and autonomic motor systems. In other words the Limbic system controls most of your emotional faculties.


And that's all I have so far! Any input would be appreciated, all. I'm open to ideas for the ending. In fact, I simply need help with it.

Saturday, December 10, 2005

Sometimes you just have to hate things that you really shouldn't hate. It happens, man. For example, at this point in time I consider girls to be cold, emotionless, flakey, horrible things and I just kinda dislike them in general. I mean, I know I shouldn't feel that way. But I quite do. So don't feel so bad, Javster. It could be worse.

Wise words. Okay, so here's where I draw the line. Normally, I don't voice my opinion openly at all, especially on this site. But I have to say something.

What the heck? Someone please tell me what the heck is wrong with us? What do you mean us? Us. Relationships. How is it possible to make everything so difficult? Everytime I see a married couple, I honestly wonder, what happened? It almost feels like relationships are meant to fail. Obviously there are more failures than successes. And the thing that gets to me is that everyone keeps going back. Why? Why would you go back purposely into something that you know, I mean you know, will most likely end in pain?

And don't tell me optimism, or some such thing. Optimism is refusing to believe reality. There, I said it.

Just go to Google. Type in failed relationship. You get 18,100,000 sites. Eighteen million sites. Do you have any idea what that means? There's sites on how to get your ex back, how to make the current one work, and how to get into a relationship.

Here's the kicker. I started taking interpersonal communications classes. You know, you can completely manipulate someone if you know how to. Intriguingly enough, there's actually a mental disease. Antisocial. Antisocial people aren't ahem, antisocial. At least not like you might think. According to 4degreez.com:
"A common misconception is that antisocial personality disorder refers to people who have poor social skills. The opposite is often the case. Instead, antisocial personality disorder is characterized by a lack of conscience. People with this disorder are prone to criminal behavior, believing that their victims are weak and deserving of being taken advantage of. Antisocials tend to lie and steal. Often, they are careless with money and take action without thinking about consequences. They are often agressive and are much more concerned with their own needs than the needs of others."

You see, an antisocial person is quite adept at social encounters. People like them. Take Ted Bundy. He was so likeable, that the judge was remiss to sentence him. He couldn't understand how someone who seemed so well adjusted was able to commit such attrocites. As a side note, in case you didn't know, Ted Bundy was a serial killer. A serial killer who enticed young women from college campuses.

Not that serial killers are running amok, charming and killing anyone they want. Not by any means. However, there's no pain greater than emotional pain. Could it be worse than physical death? That's debateable.

Somewhere around here, I had a point. I don't know what it is anymore. But I've said what I'm going to say. And this is why I enjoy taking communications. I actually am intrigued by it. So much so that I spend time reading articles on it. But you know, whatever.

I was going to cook you a casserole for your loss, but uh, I didn't.

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Leave us not kid ourselves. I just heard American Woman being played to advertise an Arby's sandwich. That type of thing just makes you want to go somewhere in a corner and cry your heart out.

So things that are of major concern in Javann's life. Its cold. That's of more than major concern. That's just crazy talk man. Crazy.

I don't like to share. I don't like it. I'm sorry. If I'm eating food, and you want some, don't ask me for it. Because I don't like to share. That's right. I don't like to share anything. Don't get me wrong. I WILL share, but man I hate it. You know when you share something with someone, you just don't feel right after it. Classic example: I hate taking a shower right after someone else takes one. I hate it. Its warm, but its not my heat. There's no way I'm alone on that. I don't like that. I'm also not a big fan of sharing my emotions or feelings. Yes, I "express them" but I don't like to share them. You know, when you're with your therapist and she's all like, tell me how that made you feel, and you're kinda like, uh, no I don't want anyone to "know" how I felt, or feel. Its just not a comfortable feeling for me. Of course, I just shared how I felt by saying that. But it wasn't a positive experience. I'd like to think I haven't become any closer to absolution with my inner demons. I like that I can say that. Yeah, I like saying stuff like that too.

But the real question in my mind is why? Why don't I like sharing? I technically should, because its the "right" thing to do. But honestly, there's a lot of things that are good and right, pure and what not, that I don't like to do. And conversely, a lot of horrible things that I love to do, though, I should clarify and say I don't go around doing those horrible things. Trying to make sure you cover all your bases eh? So what's the difference? I have no idea personally, and at this point, I'm just filling space. Yeah. So I've got some gatorade in my stomach that seriously needs some solid companionship. Most likely to be in the form of a soy chicken patty. Or a soy patty that's supposed to taste like chicken. Or whatever.

Monday, December 05, 2005

I've been smitten! No I'm not in love. I'm sick as heck. Well, I was sick. Now i'm just recovering. Or something. Anyway, I'm back. Yay!

Ever get those chain letters that tell you to send it to everyone you know or you'll have relationship problems or some such ilk for five years. Yeah, I've had relationship problems for the last five years, because no one will talk to me now that I've forwarded spam to them. Hmmm. . .that was funnier in my head.

Actually I blame people who forward that for all the problems in the world. Really. And all those people who blog. Yeah, myself included. Not really. I don't blog regularly enough it seems. Or something.