Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Shine like a burning star
I reread an entry. I can tell when I've been analyzing excessively: I'll be writing along, the warm breeze of some invincible summer playing through my hair as I roll on down the literary highway, when suddenly I spot something momentarily shiny in my mind's eye. I stop for a closer look. I pull out an overstrong microscope through which to view the interplay of the subtle sights in the words I am transcribing. I want to understand. I want to make the meaning better. I want to inject coding where it doesn't belong and to help the words engender meaning endlessly (which they do so well on their own, yes; but what good is a bandage if there's nothing to stick it over?). It is there, at that moment of word rape with the microscope, where I lose the greater perspective and get all technical and make up a sentence that is specific and accurate but utterly meaningless and dangerously lame on the whole. Example, "dangerously lame" -- if something's lame, it's not going to pose much danger. Except as the weakest link; there is danger not in doing, but in failing to do.
Sunday, November 27, 2005
Drastic and calm measures
Listening to Sarah McLachlan's "Full of Grace" and "I Don't Know How to Let You Go" on repeat...
I am moving to Calgary for awhile.
I want to sublet my room so I have a place for when I come back. So, my tiny room (and the room's bed), is available Jan 1st. Rent is 325 a month -- includes internet in the room, garden in backyard, everything! Gas stove/oven, laundry, bike room. Right on the bike path. Close to downtown. Across from cool little store. Close to Commercial Drive. Good, quiet area. Hot roommates (3) who are active and not often at home. So that's my ad, spanky.
The last time that I had a pensive period and then made the most exciting and right spontaneous decision of immense growth, was almost 2 years ago. Hah, well there have been others, but I'm talking about the kind of ready-made, right-feeling decision that comes out of nowhere in answer to my heart's question -- something I can't put into words (but I will anyway), but only feel. A decision borne of right timing and trusting my knowing despite what others' responses may be (though quite often, others are supportive and benefit by my taking the initiative to live my life passionately). The pieces fit.
I remember in April 2004 when I bought a plane ticket to Vancouver for the next week, then changed my plane ticket destination from Vancouver to Calgary the morning of my flight. My father drove me to the airport, not knowing when we'd meet again. On the drive I was furiously purging my already light duffle bag, repacking my clothes and bringing nothing but the necessities. I knew I'd be on my own. I felt so strong and wild and SONYA. Everything unknown was my ally... I had nothing but the proverbial song in my heart, $200 cash in my pants and a pair of socks there, too. Yes, I had balls (my grandmother says, to do what I did, hahh). I will romanticize the experience now. I will tell you that I had not one shred of fear in me, that I knew exactly why I was going, that I had faith in the goodness of my will, and that nothing was going to stop me or convince me to deviate from my goal (which was not so much a goal as it was a principle). And, well, that is correct. I WAS in the know. Love (adrenaline mixed with dopamine, yum) knows everything.
So I landed in Calgary, after a week of little sleep and nothing but my own delusions of specialness to ensure my creation of my heart's vision. (That's all it takes to make my life happen -- focus not on what is apparent, but what is in my mind; so 'twas good for me that I'd figured this out and that I am great at ignoring the state of physical reality around me....) I felt good. I was still in the know. Yes, I didn't know what the hell I was going to do next, but I was calm and excited and every face was a potential angel in disguise. (I meet tons of 'em on my journeys). I called my father from a payphone. He broke down and cried, and told me how proud he was of me, a smalltown girl, for having the courage to go my own way, live out west with no place to stay, no friends, no common sense, no nothing. I couldn't tell whether he was joking or giving me shit. Probably a bit of both -- typically Canadian; ashamed to be proud of anything, eh?
The rest of the story I'll regale another time. Or perhaps I'll let it be at that.
I feel good.
Saturday, November 26, 2005
Alignment
I am sitting here typing away while my roommate is cleaning the house Cinderella-style. I swept the floor with my sock; that's enough to boost morale and morale's more important than the laborious portion, methinks.
I've been working on creating the conditions for my life to flourish. (I laugh when someone encourages me to, "take some time off for yourself." I think my life is one big time off. I take time off from my time off. My day consists of the following mindtwisting decisions: hmmm, shall I go for sushi now, or later, after traffic has died down? I'll go around sunset, then I can drop by English Bay and take more photos, yeah. Shall I have my shower before, or after, my bike ride? Hmmmm.
I've been working on creating the conditions for my life to flourish. (I laugh when someone encourages me to, "take some time off for yourself." I think my life is one big time off. I take time off from my time off. My day consists of the following mindtwisting decisions: hmmm, shall I go for sushi now, or later, after traffic has died down? I'll go around sunset, then I can drop by English Bay and take more photos, yeah. Shall I have my shower before, or after, my bike ride? Hmmmm.
Friday, November 25, 2005
A nice bedtime story
There is a mouse living with me in my room. I can hear it in the night; it chews holes through my bags of oatmeal and flax seeds, and craps on my clothes. (Yeah, it is the cutest thing...)
At three in the morning I crawled down on the ground and asked, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Helloooo? Get out of my stash. Yo! You!" The thing didn't even flinch until I found the light switch. I couldn't sleep after that. I had visions of mouse eating my face. As a kid I raised gerbils, and the mother gerbil sacrificed its life for its starving pups. (I swear, I fed them!) Anyway, the little pups devoured the tail and the face of their mother first.... I remember the smell; the scent of blood mixed with cedar shavings; and the scent of leather, as I ran outside with my baseball glove to play instead of cleaning up death valley. Like most kids, I had learned that if I ignored something for long enough, it would eventually go away. *Close your eyes, close your eyes, close your eyes, this is not happening, this is not happening. You're not really here, you're somewhere else, dreaming about this. You're okay. Everything's the same.* But the blood didn't go away. In fact, it got more bloody before it got less bloody. My world had changed. I just couldn't think of the cute little gerbils in the same way after that: "You ate your mother...! You bastards! Eww, and I let you play in my mouth! No more!"
The gerbils that I had once begged for and wanted so very badly to care for, became a weighty bloody mess on my conscience. For a long time afterwards, every tragic scene was a haunting reminder of my deferred responsibility: squished squirrel on the road? Dead gerbil I neglected. Bloody scenes in movies? Gerbil guts. Zombies eating people alive? I wonder if the mother was alive while the little buggers nibbled off her nose...?
Okay, the gerbil was 4 years old and probably died of the shock upon realizing: "holy shit, I'm a 90-year-old mother." Maybe. Or maybe, she recognized an opportunity for uncredited greatness and thus forfeited her life so that her young might flourish with healthy, bright shiny coats. Is a rational explanation really going to help me to feel any better about the event? Hmmmmm, Yes. Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies. Tell me that all gerbil mothers die for their young. Oh, they don't? Well then, tell me that my gerbil was a member of a secret religious sect that prided itself on its bleeding edge occultist practises. Yes, that's gotta be it. Damn religious fanatics and their pride. I'm absolved of all responsibility now. Not my fault; her choice. In fact, I should feel angry for having been subjected to such a shocking display against my will! Yes.
No, I'm full of shit. I wonder if people who are full of shit, know that they are full of shit...? Oh, they know that they are full of shit -- that is why they must recite their beliefs over and over, lest they forget their convictions and their worlds fall apart. Back we go to cognitive dissonance.
Um I don't really know what I'm getting at here, but I'm fairly certain that the words "chemical" and "imbalance" make an entrance in Act 3, Scene 1. That's the extent of Hamlet in my story, 'cause the next scene is out of the Hitchhiker's Guide. Nothing exists in a vacuum; all touches all. Sweep away until there is nothing left to trip over. Nothing is as it seems, so look to the source and not to the writing on Schrodinger's Wall. I like to change things after the fact and reuse the past to make something new. Brahma - Shiva - Vishnu. (I'm sure I'll read this later and wonder what the hell I'm talking about.)
Oh, here's a rat near my house:
At three in the morning I crawled down on the ground and asked, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Helloooo? Get out of my stash. Yo! You!" The thing didn't even flinch until I found the light switch. I couldn't sleep after that. I had visions of mouse eating my face. As a kid I raised gerbils, and the mother gerbil sacrificed its life for its starving pups. (I swear, I fed them!) Anyway, the little pups devoured the tail and the face of their mother first.... I remember the smell; the scent of blood mixed with cedar shavings; and the scent of leather, as I ran outside with my baseball glove to play instead of cleaning up death valley. Like most kids, I had learned that if I ignored something for long enough, it would eventually go away. *Close your eyes, close your eyes, close your eyes, this is not happening, this is not happening. You're not really here, you're somewhere else, dreaming about this. You're okay. Everything's the same.* But the blood didn't go away. In fact, it got more bloody before it got less bloody. My world had changed. I just couldn't think of the cute little gerbils in the same way after that: "You ate your mother...! You bastards! Eww, and I let you play in my mouth! No more!"
The gerbils that I had once begged for and wanted so very badly to care for, became a weighty bloody mess on my conscience. For a long time afterwards, every tragic scene was a haunting reminder of my deferred responsibility: squished squirrel on the road? Dead gerbil I neglected. Bloody scenes in movies? Gerbil guts. Zombies eating people alive? I wonder if the mother was alive while the little buggers nibbled off her nose...?
Okay, the gerbil was 4 years old and probably died of the shock upon realizing: "holy shit, I'm a 90-year-old mother." Maybe. Or maybe, she recognized an opportunity for uncredited greatness and thus forfeited her life so that her young might flourish with healthy, bright shiny coats. Is a rational explanation really going to help me to feel any better about the event? Hmmmmm, Yes. Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies. Tell me that all gerbil mothers die for their young. Oh, they don't? Well then, tell me that my gerbil was a member of a secret religious sect that prided itself on its bleeding edge occultist practises. Yes, that's gotta be it. Damn religious fanatics and their pride. I'm absolved of all responsibility now. Not my fault; her choice. In fact, I should feel angry for having been subjected to such a shocking display against my will! Yes.
No, I'm full of shit. I wonder if people who are full of shit, know that they are full of shit...? Oh, they know that they are full of shit -- that is why they must recite their beliefs over and over, lest they forget their convictions and their worlds fall apart. Back we go to cognitive dissonance.
Um I don't really know what I'm getting at here, but I'm fairly certain that the words "chemical" and "imbalance" make an entrance in Act 3, Scene 1. That's the extent of Hamlet in my story, 'cause the next scene is out of the Hitchhiker's Guide. Nothing exists in a vacuum; all touches all. Sweep away until there is nothing left to trip over. Nothing is as it seems, so look to the source and not to the writing on Schrodinger's Wall. I like to change things after the fact and reuse the past to make something new. Brahma - Shiva - Vishnu. (I'm sure I'll read this later and wonder what the hell I'm talking about.)
Oh, here's a rat near my house:
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
"The tao that can be spoken is not the tao"
I think that the taoists are akin to the libertarians; -- They know what is best for you, but they will not force you to do it. They will not even tell you what is best. Haha. (Because... they don't know the specifics either. They know that you must learn on your own; you must walk your own path alone.) I like that.
You cannot be honest with the world if you are not honest with yourself. Pay attention.
[Reminders to self.]
You cannot be honest with the world if you are not honest with yourself. Pay attention.
[Reminders to self.]
I wrote an entry that was the orphaned love child of Clear-Fm Radio plus yesterday's msning plus Sushi today plus watching "Lost and Delirious" until a couple of hours past 2 in the morning last night.
I did not post it.
Consider yourself spared. =D
"Love IS. It just IS, and nothing you can say can make it go away... because It IS the point of why we are here. It is the highest point.. and once you are up there looking down on everyone else, you're there forever; 'cause if you move, right, you'll fall..."
(I like this shirt.)
I did not post it.
Consider yourself spared. =D
"Love IS. It just IS, and nothing you can say can make it go away... because It IS the point of why we are here. It is the highest point.. and once you are up there looking down on everyone else, you're there forever; 'cause if you move, right, you'll fall..."
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Reduced to...
Equations. Equations are simple formulas useful for predicting results. Patterns derived over time. Probability and worlds made manifest for the willing. What you focus on, expands.... What you want, will collapse into being before your eyes. Or maybe just the collapse part.
Thinking of puzzles I cannot begin to put together.... Am I interested in playing those games, as stimulating as they are for the first five minutes? No. I can see the picture on the box; the writing on the wall -- I know how this one turns out. Been there, punned that.
Never write in your blog when you are in a self-righteous mood, Sonya. Okay. Ignoring my sage advice for the chance to wade into hot water on such a chilly day.
So I am in a baking mood. An emotional baking mood. I ate all of my baking for the week. I have an extra cup or two of 'shut the fuck up' if anyone'd like some of that. It's all organic, Made In Canada goodness. Argh, I cannot even let myself write what I want to write, because I know that some people might take things I say personally, thinking that what I say is about them. No. It is not. Well, it probably is; that is why I cannot write about it. Haha. Hmm.
Fuck.
This is not about you. This is about me, but my talking about you is a safe way of talking about me.
The remaining pieces of you in my possession that possess me are:
1. your handwritten phone number (given to me two seconds before you left me on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. That was lovely; thanks),
2. the 'fabulous' book you brought for me to read (because the main character reminded you of me; then later your 20/20 summation was, 'I never really liked it that much anyway.' Thanks, I only took it personally for a week),
3. and two cds packed full of love songs you'd mixed for me when I was on Salt Spring around the same time that we (you) had asserted that our relationship was purely friendship. That was doubly wonderful. Thanks. I suppose it fitting that your last word to me was, "Thanks." You always did have a knack for speaking the words I could not.
I sound like a shafted, angry, hurt little monster kid, reaching back to lick the wounds of Prometheus with a surly tongue that only poisons all it touches. And if I say that I am not angry and hurt, well, who really cares? I know when I am serious and when I am blowing warm air. Sometimes I feel like indulging in the emotions. Most of what I write is a displaced form of something, having little in common with the events I describe, but rather alludes to many things at once. Words are great for that. Words make things less real; they create by destroying. What is real cannot die, but words imitate the real and translate it into manageable little.. uh.. drips of rain.. to swallow.. and pollute.. and something.. and get all wrong, like this sad metaphor. Anyway. At the time, I was not angry. I was not even hurt. I was numb. I was in shock. So, to save myself the pain and hard work, I did what I'd done in school; that is, I hid in the washroom until everyone had vacated the premises and then I went through everyone's records. No. I skipped through the standard levels of grief and went straight for the final rung: Acceptance. Or Denial. Denial / Acceptance. First and Last. Alpha and Omega. I'm still here. It's really quite the feat, straddling a ladder like this. Time to let go and turn on some Tom Petty.
We both know I'm afraid to let you go. Well, I know. You don't think twice about this. That is healthy and I'm glad for that; in fact, if you still thought about me I'd think you were nuts. No, I wouldn't think that. I'd say, "Hey." I'd say, "I have all the patience in the world, for my friend." Or I'd just think those things and you'd walk by and interpret my open-mouthed silence in the worst way, which is the human way. I love that about you. Oh god, I sound like an alien freak. This is why private journals are ideal; no need to explain and preface entries with "No, I promise I will not commit suicide. Relax people." What would I do without you to reference for every thing that goes funny in my life? I would not write stuff like this anymore; instead my focus would be on my dreams and shit like that. Borrrringggggg. If you ever read this, you will have no idea what I mean by this entry. And you will be a little scared that I am still writing about you. But know that I am not writing about you. I am staked out in front of your place, photographing every minute of your life. Joke. I hired some guy to do it for me. Joke. He said he'd do it for free.
I liked writing when I knew no one read it.
Thinking of puzzles I cannot begin to put together.... Am I interested in playing those games, as stimulating as they are for the first five minutes? No. I can see the picture on the box; the writing on the wall -- I know how this one turns out. Been there, punned that.
Never write in your blog when you are in a self-righteous mood, Sonya. Okay. Ignoring my sage advice for the chance to wade into hot water on such a chilly day.
So I am in a baking mood. An emotional baking mood. I ate all of my baking for the week. I have an extra cup or two of 'shut the fuck up' if anyone'd like some of that. It's all organic, Made In Canada goodness. Argh, I cannot even let myself write what I want to write, because I know that some people might take things I say personally, thinking that what I say is about them. No. It is not. Well, it probably is; that is why I cannot write about it. Haha. Hmm.
Fuck.
This is not about you. This is about me, but my talking about you is a safe way of talking about me.
The remaining pieces of you in my possession that possess me are:
1. your handwritten phone number (given to me two seconds before you left me on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. That was lovely; thanks),
2. the 'fabulous' book you brought for me to read (because the main character reminded you of me; then later your 20/20 summation was, 'I never really liked it that much anyway.' Thanks, I only took it personally for a week),
3. and two cds packed full of love songs you'd mixed for me when I was on Salt Spring around the same time that we (you) had asserted that our relationship was purely friendship. That was doubly wonderful. Thanks. I suppose it fitting that your last word to me was, "Thanks." You always did have a knack for speaking the words I could not.
I sound like a shafted, angry, hurt little monster kid, reaching back to lick the wounds of Prometheus with a surly tongue that only poisons all it touches. And if I say that I am not angry and hurt, well, who really cares? I know when I am serious and when I am blowing warm air. Sometimes I feel like indulging in the emotions. Most of what I write is a displaced form of something, having little in common with the events I describe, but rather alludes to many things at once. Words are great for that. Words make things less real; they create by destroying. What is real cannot die, but words imitate the real and translate it into manageable little.. uh.. drips of rain.. to swallow.. and pollute.. and something.. and get all wrong, like this sad metaphor. Anyway. At the time, I was not angry. I was not even hurt. I was numb. I was in shock. So, to save myself the pain and hard work, I did what I'd done in school; that is, I hid in the washroom until everyone had vacated the premises and then I went through everyone's records. No. I skipped through the standard levels of grief and went straight for the final rung: Acceptance. Or Denial. Denial / Acceptance. First and Last. Alpha and Omega. I'm still here. It's really quite the feat, straddling a ladder like this. Time to let go and turn on some Tom Petty.
We both know I'm afraid to let you go. Well, I know. You don't think twice about this. That is healthy and I'm glad for that; in fact, if you still thought about me I'd think you were nuts. No, I wouldn't think that. I'd say, "Hey." I'd say, "I have all the patience in the world, for my friend." Or I'd just think those things and you'd walk by and interpret my open-mouthed silence in the worst way, which is the human way. I love that about you. Oh god, I sound like an alien freak. This is why private journals are ideal; no need to explain and preface entries with "No, I promise I will not commit suicide. Relax people." What would I do without you to reference for every thing that goes funny in my life? I would not write stuff like this anymore; instead my focus would be on my dreams and shit like that. Borrrringggggg. If you ever read this, you will have no idea what I mean by this entry. And you will be a little scared that I am still writing about you. But know that I am not writing about you. I am staked out in front of your place, photographing every minute of your life. Joke. I hired some guy to do it for me. Joke. He said he'd do it for free.
I liked writing when I knew no one read it.
Monday, November 21, 2005
This just in....
(19:30:13) xOx~Amber~: ooooooo mom read ur blog by the way.....dododdoodo lalalallalaalla HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAA...LOL!!!!!!!!
(19:30:27) Sonya: what?
(19:30:30) Sonya: what?
(19:30:31) Sonya: lol
(19:30:43) Sonya: you are too funny.
(19:30:48) xOx~Amber~: the one about russia
(19:30:50) xOx~Amber~: llalalalaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
(19:30:53) Sonya: hahahaa
(19:30:54) Sonya: when?
(19:30:59) xOx~Amber~: sat
(19:31:03) Sonya: how?
(19:31:19) xOx~Amber~: she was thoroughly impressed with ur writing skills---thinks u should be a writer
(19:31:27) xOx~Amber~: I showed her
(19:31:30) Sonya: that's a consolation.
(19:31:39) xOx~Amber~: how many ppl. have to tell u that for u to believe it???
(19:31:40) Sonya: hahaha fuck. lol. actually that's funny/
(19:31:46) Sonya: 14.
(19:31:52) xOx~Amber~: ahh I see
(19:32:20) xOx~Amber~: omg the funniest part was when she came to that part about the fondling...the look on her face was priceless I;m telling u
(19:32:40) Sonya: Hahahahahaaaaa. i made that part up. it was more of a lick.
(19:32:47) xOx~Amber~: eewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
(19:32:51) xOx~Amber~: shut uppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp
(19:33:06) Sonya: so easy to get you going, i love it.
(19:33:40) Sonya: can you get a pic of mom's facial expression so i can post it on my blog? (A)
(19:33:51) xOx~Amber~: ya I'll try
(19:33:55) Sonya: thanks.
Friends Update (aka a vicarious sense of achievement)
Louis-Philip's article. LP is now on his way back to Montreal. He is one free-spirited dude; friendly as sin. (Sin is very friendly.)
Someone else said this, but I thought it a most fitting altered phrasing of the special kind of fun LP and I always have together: "Monage a trois" (I am three years old). Long-live the wonder of childhood innocence.
In other news: Lee placed First in all of his swim races yesterday (50m, 100m Fly and Relay). Now he is off to Nanaimo on December 3rd to kick more white ass ("swimmer pants" white ass; not a racial thing). Lee is the number 1 swimmer in South Korea, and now in Vancouver, and next in the universe. Way to go, Speed-o!
Pictured below in random order are the (sea)lion, the (bitched)witch and the disrobed.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Score!
free rent
Reply to: hous-111454196@craigslist.org
Date: 2005-11-15, 11:59AM PST
i am offering free rent in a luxury hi rise for a open minded female in exchange for massages.downtown luxury hi rise.pool hot tub etc
* this is in or around dt van
* no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
111454196
Woohoo! And I have references:
Friday, November 11, 2005
Tire of this
Changed my bike tire! Saweeet. This is a picture of my old tire. Impressive bulge, eh? I was quite proud of it.
Hard to let go of something, even if it's making for a bumpy journey. The threat of disaster exhalts my spirit. Eros and thanatos.
Listening to music... "..If I love you, could you love me?.."
Do not sit at home alone on a rainy day and eat homemade cookies and listen to Dave Matthews and think in symbols and get all weird.
Aaron came by to pick up his music equipment. He knocked on the door as I was doing my laundry, vacuuming and listening to Z-95.3FM Radio, and wearing my usual laundry attire: underwearless pants and a bra. Couldn't decide what to reach for to avoid the most embarrassment -- a shirt or the radio dial. For modesty's sake and to spare Aaron's eyesight, I grabbed a shirt and distracted him with my cookies (the ones I had baked, fools). Yes, I knowingly fed the man sugar! Oh, the sins I commit for the sake of modesty. His modesty. My modesty was long ago spoiled. Mine was so pure that nothing would work as a preservative. No amounts of sugar and spice and everything nice.
The best song to dance to while alone in your room is Hung Up by Madonna. For the hour, anyway. And my Metric mix cd.
I wonder how often people write things that they don't really believe, but let the words stand simply for the reason that the words flowed so nicely and sound pretty together.
Hmm...Belief. Believe. What is the point of this word? What is its use? Belief encourages Doublethink; opposing ideas held in the mind at once. Maybe. I shall think about this. Either something is, or it is not. Decide which you want.
Taking things literally. I want to take me laterally and sleeeeeeep.
Literacy. Do I think that blogging is an effective and fun way of practicing writing skills and critical thinking? Umm sorta. Blogging also allows the lazy-mood persons to indulge in malformed ideas without explaining their reasoning process leading up to the moment of claiming something that is entirely obvious to them (and often to no one else). Not good for persuasive writing. I have to go to sleep soon before I start to wake up. But I will finish this post first. So yeah; when writing in-class exams alonggg time ago (why do I always write about school? Do I secretly love it?), I can recall a few times when the clock was a-ticking down and I had two remaining essay questions yet to form ulcers over.... Likely some 'compare and contrast these two thinkers' sort of questions that always confused the hell out of me. [Compare and contrast?! I don't understand the wording! I think my brain gets stuck on certain sounds and refuses to process meaning until a rephrasal has been handed down. I don't know what I'm saying. I'm tired.]
So brain hijinx, time constraints, bullshitting techniques, lack of rigorous mental discipline thanks to jotting-down-indulgent-neurotic-thing habits and a provocative nature would conspire together and I'd scribble out something special. Sometimes serious, sometimes joking, sometimes making a point, most often pointing a series of jokes at myself and having fun. Something like:
"Nietzsche was a sexy man. He oozed natural will power and loved a woman who loved Rainer Maria Rilke. So, to keep his ideals consistent with his writings and to affirm something as opposed to falling into the slave morality of ressentiment and opposing something already affirmed, Nietzsche, uhhh, reacted... by taking the initiative! and stopped loving all women. He looked to some role models, like famous unmarried genius men, to justify his predicament (which was no choice of his own but which he later decided to embrace because, what the hell; better than being a loser. Also, he had already written his ideals, and that would have been embarrassing, to be shaped by / rather than the shaper of / circumstance). He didn't like Socrates because Socrates was a homeless bum who said smartass things but was married, so, like, obviously that just wasn't gonna fly with Nietzsche's thoughts about how one must live according to one's inner daemon and ignore outside influences that only numb the senses and draw one in to conform to lesser standards. Yes. Strict adaptations to life necessitated by change and feelings of uncontrollable destiny. Did I fit enough undefended ideas into this paragraph? Enough terms used improperly and terms that don't make sense in this context? Or in any? Perfect. I am hearing the beat of my own drum. Oh, and Nietzsche acquired syphilis and had to write a living will, because one must write wills to direct where the things go that one has acquired in one's lifetime. It's really hard to write in third person neutral. And don't confuse 'syphilis' with Sisyphus. Nietzsche would not be caught dead rolling some other guy's ball. Oh, he had syphilis just at the end of his life, but time matters not, because the ideas conveyed by Nietzsche's words are timeless, and shit like that. He warned of abysses and looking into the sun, long before retina examiners confirmed that our eyes burn in the light and that what nourishes us, destroys us. Nothing compares to Nietzsche. That's why I omitted the 'compare' part out of the question."
Ohhhh I love him.
Writing is fun; I like writers who are a bit anal when they do it. (Write, that is.) For example, take the passage I've quoted in an earlier entry: "a concern for one's own safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind. "
Okay, but is concern really a process? Or a state? Or what? Yes, either way, his wording sounds lovely and I understand, but what I'm getting at is myself. All about me. Sometimes I don't pay attention to what I'm writing, and I'm on a roll talking about flowers and equations and colours and can see the connections between all things and I say the most ridiculous things.... Just thinking of some of the claims I've made and the flame wars I've spawned due to careless wording. Yes, as a student I've baffled many a professor. (And by the way, it's not always true that bullshit baffles brains, I found out. On the contrary! -- Keep in mind that when submitting BS-laden, written-last-minute reports to social science professors for evaluation, the old adage that it "takes one to know one," applies liberally.) Sweet dreamsssss
So brain hijinx, time constraints, bullshitting techniques, lack of rigorous mental discipline thanks to jotting-down-indulgent-neurotic-thing habits and a provocative nature would conspire together and I'd scribble out something special. Sometimes serious, sometimes joking, sometimes making a point, most often pointing a series of jokes at myself and having fun. Something like:
"Nietzsche was a sexy man. He oozed natural will power and loved a woman who loved Rainer Maria Rilke. So, to keep his ideals consistent with his writings and to affirm something as opposed to falling into the slave morality of ressentiment and opposing something already affirmed, Nietzsche, uhhh, reacted... by taking the initiative! and stopped loving all women. He looked to some role models, like famous unmarried genius men, to justify his predicament (which was no choice of his own but which he later decided to embrace because, what the hell; better than being a loser. Also, he had already written his ideals, and that would have been embarrassing, to be shaped by / rather than the shaper of / circumstance). He didn't like Socrates because Socrates was a homeless bum who said smartass things but was married, so, like, obviously that just wasn't gonna fly with Nietzsche's thoughts about how one must live according to one's inner daemon and ignore outside influences that only numb the senses and draw one in to conform to lesser standards. Yes. Strict adaptations to life necessitated by change and feelings of uncontrollable destiny. Did I fit enough undefended ideas into this paragraph? Enough terms used improperly and terms that don't make sense in this context? Or in any? Perfect. I am hearing the beat of my own drum. Oh, and Nietzsche acquired syphilis and had to write a living will, because one must write wills to direct where the things go that one has acquired in one's lifetime. It's really hard to write in third person neutral. And don't confuse 'syphilis' with Sisyphus. Nietzsche would not be caught dead rolling some other guy's ball. Oh, he had syphilis just at the end of his life, but time matters not, because the ideas conveyed by Nietzsche's words are timeless, and shit like that. He warned of abysses and looking into the sun, long before retina examiners confirmed that our eyes burn in the light and that what nourishes us, destroys us. Nothing compares to Nietzsche. That's why I omitted the 'compare' part out of the question."
Ohhhh I love him.
Writing is fun; I like writers who are a bit anal when they do it. (Write, that is.) For example, take the passage I've quoted in an earlier entry: "a concern for one's own safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind. "
Okay, but is concern really a process? Or a state? Or what? Yes, either way, his wording sounds lovely and I understand, but what I'm getting at is myself. All about me. Sometimes I don't pay attention to what I'm writing, and I'm on a roll talking about flowers and equations and colours and can see the connections between all things and I say the most ridiculous things.... Just thinking of some of the claims I've made and the flame wars I've spawned due to careless wording. Yes, as a student I've baffled many a professor. (And by the way, it's not always true that bullshit baffles brains, I found out. On the contrary! -- Keep in mind that when submitting BS-laden, written-last-minute reports to social science professors for evaluation, the old adage that it "takes one to know one," applies liberally.) Sweet dreamsssss
Thursday, November 10, 2005
What You'll Wish You'd Known; a highschool address. Long.
PhDs Say the Darndest Things
Other .. interesting .. things published in journals:
Title: Testing the Hypothesis of Modified Dynamics with Low Surface Brightness Galaxies and Other Evidence
Authors: Stacy McGaugh and Erwin de Blok
Comments: Accepted for publication in the Astrophysical Journal. 35 pages AAStex + 9 figures. This result surprised the bejeepers out of us, too [from LANL preprint notice astro-ph/9801102, contributed by Christina Williams Heikkila]
No data were taken at station D during the period 0830 to 1630 GST due to the presence of a red racer snake (Coluber constrictor) draped across the high-tension wires (33,000 V) serving the station. However, even though this snake, or rather a three-foot section of its remains, was caught in the act of causing an arc between the transmission lines, we do not consider it responsible for the loss of data. Rather we blame the incompetence of a red-tailed hawk (Buteo borealis) who had apparently built a defective nest that fell off the top of the nearby transmission tower, casting her nestlings to the ground, along with their entire food reserve consisting of a pack rat, a kangaroo rat, and several snakes, with the exception of the above-mentioned snake who had a somewhat higher destiny. No comparable loss of data occurred at the other antenna sites. [N. Bartel et al. 1987, ApJ 323. 507]
We will now go on to justify the system of dimensions that has been chosen. Readers with weak stomachs may wish to pass to the next subsection. [J.R. Fisher and R.B. Tully, ApJS, 47, 139 (quote from page 185)]
Cataclysmics? Too trendy for my taste. [Bruce Margon, 20 August 1984]
Interpretation is cheap in astronomy because any ad hoc assumption consistent with our extensive ignorance and limited data may be used. [Condon, Helou, and Jarrett, AJ 123, 1881, 2002]
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Remote viewing.
[ Passages from 'Alien Agenda' by Jim Marrs, pg.346; Posted to thoroughly discredit anything I say or do ;) ]
Messages of Water
Manifestation and Delusion
Rosicrucian stuff: "Our environment is a looking-glass in which we see our character reflected."
" This brings us to a most important factor in the situation, namely, the creative power of thought. This power is the most fundamental and potent factor in human life.
The saying. "Thoughts are things," is startlingly true. Every time we think a thought, we are making a thought form which may become a living force. It floats in our aura and becomes a part of our individual mental atmosphere; therefore, it is a part of our very life.
The next step in the activity of creative thought is that it clothes itself in the substance of desire and emotion. This step has two effects: first, it may lead to corresponding action; second, thought forms not calling for immediate action may be stored in the memory as patterns for future use. We have access to them at any time; thus they eventually may appear as physical realities in our environment, making it "good" or "bad" according to the thoughts that created it.
Therefore, if we wish to change our environment and our fortune, we must change our thoughts. By so doing, we will be making new and good destiny, which in due time will appear in our lives, and which will give us better work and supply many of our material needs.
One reason why some people do not achieve success is that they unconsciously or ignorantly violate the Law of Giving and Receiving. There really is a cosmic law administered by unseen Forces which decrees that in order to receive, one must first give. By sharing what we have, we open the channel which permits an inflow of the desirable things into our lives. "
'There is a low humming sound and the colour of light changes with the intensity of the sound. It feels really good. I can't quite go inside the main room where everybody is. but I'm in like an anteroom. There is like a monolith in the middle of the room and there is a reddish, eight-sided stone, large, about halfway up this thing. Looks like onyx or black granite . . . Well, I'll be damned! This humming is the prayer! That's how these guys pray. But to whom or what? Everybody, comes the answer.'
One viewer witnessed another ceremony involving water -- 'the water of life, they call it.' Perhaps a hundred hooded beings participated in the ceremony in a large rectangular room with the walls covered by hieroglyphics. 'Everybody is praying and giving thanks to the One. Maybe this One should be capitalized. Maybe this is God to them. No, this is a little different, feels a little different. This is a form of what I would call God but it's like the whole lot of them and everybody who is alive. I mean the sum total of our spirits . . . God Almighty! Could it be that they are praying to all of us put together? Is that what One is?'
One possible answer came from another viewer who told of a conversation with a hooded being who patiently tried to explain that each individual being is the eyes and ears of the Creator. 'When one forgets that, there is separation and separation is unnatural,' this viewer was told. 'He says that regardless of what body form we have, we are also made of something that interfaces with body form. He says we call this the mind, but it's more than that. . . . He says mind and feelings go together and have always gone together, but that emotions, strong emotions cloud awareness. He's also telling me that to really live simply means to live without fear. Everything is energy, he says, and that I must try to understand things in terms of energy exchanged, shared and not to steal energy from another. He says this is what reality really is -- energy and energy exchanges. He's now telling me that what I think the world -- no, the universe -- is really like, isn't. He says I am relying too much on what others tell me and what I and others agree is. He says for me to go on a discovery. Find out things, he says. And now he takes off his hood. It's a guy with shoulder-length light brown hair and light eyes, hazel, I think.'
Messages of Water
Manifestation and Delusion
Rosicrucian stuff: "Our environment is a looking-glass in which we see our character reflected."
" This brings us to a most important factor in the situation, namely, the creative power of thought. This power is the most fundamental and potent factor in human life.
The saying. "Thoughts are things," is startlingly true. Every time we think a thought, we are making a thought form which may become a living force. It floats in our aura and becomes a part of our individual mental atmosphere; therefore, it is a part of our very life.
The next step in the activity of creative thought is that it clothes itself in the substance of desire and emotion. This step has two effects: first, it may lead to corresponding action; second, thought forms not calling for immediate action may be stored in the memory as patterns for future use. We have access to them at any time; thus they eventually may appear as physical realities in our environment, making it "good" or "bad" according to the thoughts that created it.
Therefore, if we wish to change our environment and our fortune, we must change our thoughts. By so doing, we will be making new and good destiny, which in due time will appear in our lives, and which will give us better work and supply many of our material needs.
One reason why some people do not achieve success is that they unconsciously or ignorantly violate the Law of Giving and Receiving. There really is a cosmic law administered by unseen Forces which decrees that in order to receive, one must first give. By sharing what we have, we open the channel which permits an inflow of the desirable things into our lives. "
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
"The universe may not play fair, but it has a hell of a sense of humour."
Favourite automatic sounds triggered by burning my fingers on the sterilized forceps from hell: "Fuck-that's-a-bitch." [Must be said quietly and quickly, under one's breath; extra points for saying this one while in the watchful presence of supervisor and new group of botany recruits.]
Yes. So.
Biked to work in the rain this morning. Changed into warm, dry clothes. Marched my ass to the lab. Said 'good morning's to people. Talked with grad student from Taiwan while emptying magentas and autoclaving. Went into transfer room, began my work. Okay I will write in sentences now. My friend (Taiwan) was doing her transfers too, so she came over to my side of the room, sat on the table and turned on the radio. And guess what song was playing? And I am changing writing tense now:
She turns on the radio, mid-song " ... And who would've thought - it figures?... [I smile and start singing] Mr. Play-it-safe... was afraid to fly... he packed his su-u-ui-uit-case, and kissed his kids goodbye-yie.. He waited his whole damn life, to take that flight, and as the plane crashed down, he thought, 'Well, isn't this nice...' - And isn't it ironic? Don't you think? A little toooo ironic? And yeah, I really do think... it's like raiinnnnnnn..."
So of course I'm sitting there singing along, laughing to myself and in wonder at the beauty of it all, or something like that, and my friend yells, her voice almost inaudible above the directorless sprawling hum of the hoodmachines and the radio and me, "You have a nice voice." Um, okay. Something's up. I set down what I'm doing, then turn to give her my full attention.
I give her an inquiring look. She wants to talk about relationships; more specifically, how to find a person with whom to relate affectionately and with whom to share all of life's joys and obstacles-transmuted-into-joys. At this moment I am feeling rather buoyed by her faith in me and by her buttermeupsweetly comment about my latent professional singing potential, so I, being full of myself, jump right in over my head and give her tons of advice that would convince Dr. Phil's loyal following to jump ship, switch teams and bat for Sonya. Oops I mixed metaphors but I like to 'cause it's fun for me. So anyway, I tell her what I have learned, from experience no less! Yes, I have some experience! After years of living in words and books and ideas, I am making something of myself -- in the world! Actualizing potential! Inspired by these words (paraphrased but in quotations anyway): "True, the unexamined life is not worth living, but the unlived life is not worth examining." BOO-yah. Word to yo motha. Back to what I was typing now.
I put on my mickey mouse hat. I tell her: "Know what you want. Think of the feelings you want when you are with the person you want in your life, whether that is a relationship or a true love or whatever, and write it down. Write down the personal qualities you appreciate, imagine yourself doing things with this person and living the life you want, and write it down... And read it every morning and night."
She says, "That guy in Taiwan, I really wanted it to work, but I didn't know how."
Me: "Did you tell him how you felt?"
Her: "Hmm yes, I wrote him a letter."
Me: "Okay, when you're thinking of the person you want in your life, do not attach your ideals to any person just yet. Envision your 'true love' or whatever relationship you want, and imagine how you feel together and think of what you do together. If you choose one flesh-and-blood person in your mind, before having a clear intention of what you want your life to be and how you want to live, then that will not work. I have done that before, and it doesn't work.
Her, knowingly, "Like... Russia?"
Me, laughing, "Uh yes."(close enough. We shall call her 'Russia' for this entry.) Yes; first you have to be clear in your mind about what you want, and then if that person, that guy in Taiwan, is the one for you, then who knows? Your paths will cross again."
Godspeed, girl.
So I get back to work, sitting there.. and "Every Little Thing She does is Magic" by The Police comes on the radio.. 'haa,' i think to myself... 'Russia put that song on a cd for me...' Oh yes, back to my cord-cutting, "I do not give you permission to attach yourself to me." haha. hmm... i like my life. la di da..
"Nothing Compares to You" by Sinead, that fake lesbian, comes on the radio. I used to love this song. I leave the room to get something.
Later, song: "Insensitive" by Jann Arden. I remember 'cause I am talking with friend from Tanzania when the song comes on, and I say, "I like this song," and we listen for a sec, then talk about coursework and White Rock and her boyfriend and her parents.
So I finish my work and Tanzania and I decide to check out 'Agora', the student-run not-for-profit restaurant deli place in the basement of our building. I had never ever been down there before. Usually I head straight home after finishing my work on the third floor but today I want to inject some low-risk spontaneity into my daily routine. Yes, about that... Anyway. Also, have I mentioned that it is raining today? It is raining a lot. I decide to hangout in Agora for awhile; let the rain do its thing and prepare some soaker puddles for my ride home. So there we are in the basement of the building, which is by the parking lot, and there are 2 doors and a wall of windows that look out onto the outside patio. It is raining (did I mention that? Yes, it really is.) and I am talking with my friend, waiting for my veggie sandwich. Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone outside, trying to pull open the locked door a few steps away from where I am standing. Glad to have the chance to give some humble help in this world and with my heart full of love for humanity, I skip over to the door. I look at the person standing there on the other side of the glass. Hmm, I know this person. Where do I know that person from? Holy shit. Oh yes, now I remember; she fondled my breasts and juggled my heart. Russia. Our eyes meet. Though her lips don't move, -- well they do kinda move and I think maybe she does say FUKKKKKKK under her breath, I can also hear that she is thinking, *FUKKKKKK! Look down, look away, look away, look away...* Or maybe I am projecting because I do a quick breakdance on the floor and I hesitate and for a second consider the option of not opening the door, just to make it easier for her... But no, that would be weird.... Her expressions are so easy to read. I smile. I start to see the humour in everything and that slightly awkward feeling quickly goes back to hell from whence it came and then I feel my heart all happy and familiar, and I open the door and give a friendly, "Hey!" and step aside.
I don't remember looking at her at this point. I remember opening the door and turning my back to her so she has space to walk in. As soon as she is inside and has a clear path of escape, she hears an inner whistle or something marking the beginning of her sprint heat, because she says a quick, "Thanks," to no one in particular and then she is off and running down the hall.
I watch her. She can really motor. I feel fine and calm. I feel like the laughing monk. But soon I return to human form and I shake uncontrollably. Well, not tremors or anything to cause a scene; just a little shakiness and shivers. And I suddenly MUST know, woman to woman, the answer to the most burning question of all. I turn to Tanzania; she is talking but I interrupt her to ask, "Hey, -- do I look like crap?"
Reach out and touch someone
Saturday, November 05, 2005
Raining outside... so.... inside day
Many passages in books that resonated for some reason or another at this moment:
"We have to show these men and women freedom by enslaving them, and show their courage by frightening them."
There was only one catch and that was Catch-22, that specified that a concern for one's own safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind. Orr was crazy and could be grounded. All he had to do was ask; and as soon as he did, he would no longer be crazy and would have to fly more missions. Orr would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if he didn't, but if he was sane, he had to fly them. Yossarian was moved very deeply by the absolute simplicity of the clause of Catch-22 and let out a respectful whistle.
"That's some catch, that Catch-22," he observed.
"It's the best there is," Doc Daneeka replied. [Joseph Heller, Catch 22]
"Something within fishermen tries to make fishing into a world perfect and apart - I don't know what it is or where, because sometimes it is in my arms and sometimes in my throat and sometimes nowhere in particular except somewhere deep. Many of us probably would be better fishermen if we did not spend so much time watching and waiting for the world to become perfect."
***
"All there is to thinking is seeing something noticeable which makes you see something you weren't noticing which makes you see something that isn't even visible."
***
"Help is giving part of yourself to somebody who comes to accept it willing and needs it badly.
"So it is that we can seldom help anybody. Either we don't know what part to give or maybe we don't like to give any part of ourselves. Then, more often than not, the part that is needed is not wanted. And even more often, we do not have the part that is needed. It is like the auto-supply shop over town where they always say, 'Sorry, we are just out of that part.'"
I told him, "You make it too tough. Help doesn't have to be anything that big."
He asked me, "Do you think your mother helps him by buttering his roll?"
"She might," I told him. "In fact, yes, I think she does."
***
"... but you can love completely without complete understanding."
Now nearly all those I loved and did not understand when I was young are dead, but I still reach out to them... Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.
I am haunted by waters. [Norman Maclean 'A River Runs Through It']
"We have to show these men and women freedom by enslaving them, and show their courage by frightening them."
There was only one catch and that was Catch-22, that specified that a concern for one's own safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind. Orr was crazy and could be grounded. All he had to do was ask; and as soon as he did, he would no longer be crazy and would have to fly more missions. Orr would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if he didn't, but if he was sane, he had to fly them. Yossarian was moved very deeply by the absolute simplicity of the clause of Catch-22 and let out a respectful whistle.
"That's some catch, that Catch-22," he observed.
"It's the best there is," Doc Daneeka replied. [Joseph Heller, Catch 22]
"Something within fishermen tries to make fishing into a world perfect and apart - I don't know what it is or where, because sometimes it is in my arms and sometimes in my throat and sometimes nowhere in particular except somewhere deep. Many of us probably would be better fishermen if we did not spend so much time watching and waiting for the world to become perfect."
***
"All there is to thinking is seeing something noticeable which makes you see something you weren't noticing which makes you see something that isn't even visible."
***
"Help is giving part of yourself to somebody who comes to accept it willing and needs it badly.
"So it is that we can seldom help anybody. Either we don't know what part to give or maybe we don't like to give any part of ourselves. Then, more often than not, the part that is needed is not wanted. And even more often, we do not have the part that is needed. It is like the auto-supply shop over town where they always say, 'Sorry, we are just out of that part.'"
I told him, "You make it too tough. Help doesn't have to be anything that big."
He asked me, "Do you think your mother helps him by buttering his roll?"
"She might," I told him. "In fact, yes, I think she does."
***
"... but you can love completely without complete understanding."
Now nearly all those I loved and did not understand when I was young are dead, but I still reach out to them... Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.
I am haunted by waters. [Norman Maclean 'A River Runs Through It']
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Quo Vadis
"Goals are not only absolutely necessary to motivate us. They are essential to really keep us alive." - Robert H. Schuller
"To will is to select a goal, determine a course of action that will bring one to that goal, and then hold to that action till the goal is reached. The key is action." - Michael Hanson
"I am comforted by life's stability, by earth's unchangeableness. What has seemed new and frightening assumes its place in the unfolding of knowledge. It is good to know our universe. What is new is only new to us." - Pearl S. Buck
"A man who becomes conscious of the responsibility he bears toward a human being who affectionately waits for him, or to an unfinished work, will never be able to throw away his life. He knows the "why" for his existence, and will be able to bear almost any "how."" - Victor Frankl
"The price of greatness is responsibility." - Winston Churchill
"Through pride we are ever deceiving ourselves. But deep down below the surface of the average conscience a still, small voice says to us, 'Something is out of tune.'" - Carl Jung
"Work out your own salvation. Do not depend on others." - Buddha
"To be loved for what one is, is the greatest exception. The great majority love in others only what they lend him, their own selves, their version of him." - Goethe
"Your body needs to be held and to hold, to be touched and to touch. None of these needs is to be despised, denied, or repressed. But you have to keep searching for your body's deeper need, the need for genuine love. Every time you are able to go beyond the body's superficial desires for love, you are bringing your body home and moving toward integration and unity." - Henri Nouwen
"The thing that makes you exceptional, if you are at all, is inevitably that which makes you lonely." - Lorraine Hansberry
"Your sacred space is where you can find yourself again and again." - Joseph Campbell
"Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony." - Gandhi
"If architects want to strengthen a decrepit arch, they increase the load that is laid upon it, for thereby the parts are joined more firmly together. So, if therapists wish to foster their patients' mental health, they should not be afraid to increase that load through a reorientation toward the meaning of one's life." - Victor Frankl
"To will is to select a goal, determine a course of action that will bring one to that goal, and then hold to that action till the goal is reached. The key is action." - Michael Hanson
"I am comforted by life's stability, by earth's unchangeableness. What has seemed new and frightening assumes its place in the unfolding of knowledge. It is good to know our universe. What is new is only new to us." - Pearl S. Buck
"A man who becomes conscious of the responsibility he bears toward a human being who affectionately waits for him, or to an unfinished work, will never be able to throw away his life. He knows the "why" for his existence, and will be able to bear almost any "how."" - Victor Frankl
"The price of greatness is responsibility." - Winston Churchill
"Through pride we are ever deceiving ourselves. But deep down below the surface of the average conscience a still, small voice says to us, 'Something is out of tune.'" - Carl Jung
"Work out your own salvation. Do not depend on others." - Buddha
"To be loved for what one is, is the greatest exception. The great majority love in others only what they lend him, their own selves, their version of him." - Goethe
"Your body needs to be held and to hold, to be touched and to touch. None of these needs is to be despised, denied, or repressed. But you have to keep searching for your body's deeper need, the need for genuine love. Every time you are able to go beyond the body's superficial desires for love, you are bringing your body home and moving toward integration and unity." - Henri Nouwen
"The thing that makes you exceptional, if you are at all, is inevitably that which makes you lonely." - Lorraine Hansberry
"Your sacred space is where you can find yourself again and again." - Joseph Campbell
"Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony." - Gandhi
"If architects want to strengthen a decrepit arch, they increase the load that is laid upon it, for thereby the parts are joined more firmly together. So, if therapists wish to foster their patients' mental health, they should not be afraid to increase that load through a reorientation toward the meaning of one's life." - Victor Frankl
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