*Okay, I get it; now put away the violin.*

Hmmm.

Right now I feel like the hugest dickus maximus for a variety of nefarious reasons. (No; as usual, just felt like typing that.) For at least two reasons, I feel craptacular. I invited Lee here for a visit, and now I want to be alone: "Hi, Lee. Welcome! Now go and entertain yourself while I figure my life things out. Umm, you know what? This may take awhile; here's some food and a blanket."

I just really suck. I am the worst host ever. Hahhhh shit. Yes, I forgive myself for being an ass. I am showing Lee the hotspots, and providing him with earthly towels and foods and all that crap; it's just that inside, I feel 'off' - my attitude is one of forced niceness. It's not fake, exactly... moreso distracted. My heart is elsewhere and I'm listening for its songs instead of the noise I'm submerged in. Fine, I am wonderfulness incarnate. (Oh, and said with such conviction.) Yeah mon. I am wonderfulness incarnate, and also the worst host. So, on the plus side I am an impressive multitasker who assumes roles seamlessly on all sides of the spectrum of being. Sometimes I feel this despondency and all that it takes for me to snap back into myself is the awareness that my little problems are nothing at all. I have no desire to direct any of my energy to mindless junk. Sometimes, most easily when I am tired, these emotions have their hayday. I love my emotions. They are like children that live underwater, but that also breathe air. (Work with me here.) Yes. So, these children prefer to mix things up in the air sphere, and being the gracious host that I am (selectively, ahem) -- when they ask and when I am in the right mood, I let them surface to play outdoors, where they run loose and grow strong and refine their expressions and show the world love (as long as I am watching and guiding them...). Oh! That reminds me of how excited I am to go back to the country and walk around in the trees. Or under the trees. Baby steps. I used to tell my brother that the dryads lived in the forests and protected the forest's inhabitants [I had read about them; I didn't walk around talking with them or anything... ;)]. My brother was afraid at that! And then I was afraid because he was afraid. Even though I was the messenger, I had allowed his perception of the message (that I had given, for frig's sake), to influence my own. Oh, how easily mindless madness. And how easily calm clarity. I think I've figured a few things out. And I know myself well enough to know that having typing that conclusion, I will still spend a few more hours wrestling the angels. God, I spent too many years in Sunday School.

"No such thing as wrestling at a distance - to struggle is to embrace."



Dancing.


"Embrace, my ass."

"We must meet in the physical what we have done or thought in the mental"

From Edgar Cayce's 'Story of Karma' Q & A session:

Q: What debt do I owe J.M.?

A: Only that ye build in thine own consciousness.
For every soul, as every tub, must stand upon its own self. And the soul that holds resentment owes the soul to whom it is held--much! Hast thou forgiven him the wrong done thee? Then thou owest naught! (1298-1)

Do not attempt to be good but rather good for something!

Know what is thy purpose, what is thy goal! And unless these are founded in constructive, spiritual construction, they will turn again upon thyself!

For each soul is meeting day by day self!

Hence as has been given, know thyself, in whom thou believest! Not of earthly, not of material things, but mental and spiritual--and why! And by keeping a record of self--not as a diary, but thy purposes, what you have thought, what you have desired, the good that you have done--we will find this will bring physical and mental reactions that will be in keeping with the purposes for which each soul enters a material manifestation. (830-3)

Every incarnation is an opportunity; so is really good karma, whether we are having difficulty in learning our lesson or not. We are attracted to the environment which gives the needed lesson.

We find that there were those environs in which the attraction gave the opportunity for the entity to bring creative influences and forces in the experience, to meet self: and thus correct much that had been and is in the way of development for the soul-entity.

For each soul enters that it may make its path straight. They alone who walk the straight and narrow way may know themselves to be themselves, and yet one with the Creative Forces. Hence the purpose for each entrance is that the opportunities may be embraced by the entity for living, being, that which is creative and in keeping with the Way. For the Father has not willed that any soul should perish and is thus mindful that each soul has again--and yet again--the opportunity for making its paths straight. (2021-1)

What thou seest, that thou be'st
Dust, if thou seest dust
God, if thou seest God.

[p.22-23]

now resume resume writing

"Amber, let's play Doctor!"




B&W setting, you are my friend.

People are good.

I see that people are willing to help you when they recognize how they might fit into your life, to make your life easier and more enjoyable. To illustrate (because I like so much to draw conclusions and guns and stickmen): Recently, I was waiting in the van for my Mother to run into the store; two seconds later, an unknown lady knocked on my window, interrupting an impromptu groove session.
Unrolled, sheepish grin, "Hi..."
It was dark outside so she couldn't see me dancing. Too bad she wasn't deaf too. Anyway, undeterred, she waved a child's knitted mitten in front of me and asked, "Is this yours? I found it on the ground by the rear door of your van."
"Hmm, Oh, thanks! It could be; I have a 3-year-old sister.. Thanks!" I said with glee, but overdid it, still recollecting from the shock of her window knock.

And off she went into the night of anonymity. Well, into Shoppers Drugmart. I really was appreciative, -- just to know by her act, that people are observant and paying attention to their surroundings. This 'aware' characteristic I admire in others. Mindfulness. (I like to know that at least somebody is paying attention when I am off in lalaland.)

Another time, unloading groceries into the van: The parking lot was full and I was pushing one of those 6-wheeled, impossible-to-steer-without-hitting-every-display, transformed-into-a-kids-car shoppingcarts (to keep my brother entertained for the first 4 minutes of our 2 hour shopping adventure). So, in the parking lot, I had to manoeuvre the cart-o'-joy behind the van, to unload. The only open space through which I could remove the cart was the parking spot directly beside the van. And guess what? A car pulled into that spot! A super opportunity to exercise great restraint in teaching Bjorn extracurricular words. Anyway, the woman came over and asked me, from a safe distance away (she could see the smoke escaping from my flared nostrils) if I had enough room for the cart. The dragon instinct appeased, I smiled and confirmed that all was well. And all was well.

Friendly place, this life. These are relatively minor happenings, yes, but with kids, little happenings are huge happenings. The Snowball Effect. How can you make and throw a snowball with only one mitten? Exactly. Ask for help.

"Ever since I can remember, I've always wanted to tell stories, but I never had the patience to sit down at a typewriter and write short stories or anything like that. I started writing songs as a way of communicating ideas the best way I could." - Rob Thomas



Rob Thomas. My taste in music is turning Adult Contemporary. :-o Nature or nurture? Both? Discuss.

links to connect

The Five Basic Laws of the Universe - "The Universal Operating System responds to individuals, so the only way to test whether what I’m saying is bullshit, or whether it works, is to consciously apply it in your own life."






[Links for safe-keeping]
Anthroposophical Medicine
The Anthroposophical Society in Canada - Near my Mom's house...
Health and Balance - Don't laugh: Conversations with Jesus and Buddha.

When in Rome

How I know I've been immersed in little-kid-culture for too long:

1. Alone, I ask myself while rummaging through the utensil drawer, my face the picture of focused concentration, "Hmmmm... where's Mr. Can-opener?"
2. I sometimes call my step-father 'daddy'.
3. My deepest conversations, though not without their unique flavour of eureka moments, progress like so:
-"Come here, you poopy poop with poop on your butt!" [I don't know where he learns this stuff]
-"Um, No, YOU have poop on your butt...." [I wanted to speak to him on his level, and understand his thinking.... um, yeah..]
-"Are you ever going to stop talking?"
-"Hey, I'll stop talking when you stop talking."
-"Good. Go back to British Columbia. You came here to play with me, and if you're not going to play with me, I don't know why you're here. Because you're not playing with me, and Mom said...."
-"Treat people with respect, and they will want to play with you."
-"I don't want to treat people with respect; I WANT YOU TO PLAY WITH MEEEEE!"
-"Bjorn, you can't always get what you want." [Oh God. I've become one of them. And so I add,] "If what you want is for someone to play with you and listen to you, then you must be the same way." [There. My parents never used THAT one on me, I think....]

Acting like a kid:
4. A hug and kiss make EVERYTHING all right.
5. I hypothesize that no matter how hard I am crying in bed, I can stop on a dime and in a crystal-clear angelic voice, say, "I want jungle juice, please" when asked by my Mommy what is wrong. [I haven't tried to confirm, myself, that this experiment's result is repeatable, though the data collected thus far inclines an auspicious feeling in my bosom that I'll be tasting some lovely jungle juice at about 22:14 EST today. Woohoo --! And no effort required, beyond a small investment in a new pair of lungs and earplugs for everyone but Mommy.]
6. I don't have to say what I mean, ever, and I still get my point across enough to feel satisfied with being understood.
7. Joking about Sonic the Hedgehog's character in one moment, sternly reprimanding someone for throwing toys in the next minute, then hugging the someone and telling him I love him in the moment following or overlapping the previous moments, flows naturally and requires no awkward inbetween patchwork. Kids take NOTHING personally. Well they do, but they also overgeneralize, so this is okay to leave in.

Things I picked up from little siblings' inner thoughts
8. I gasp when people in the outside world say the F-word. It is okay to tell on other people; not okay for them to tell on me.
9. I say the F-word just for the reaction, or when I think I can't help myself, as in during videogames when fighting the Boss.
10. Inviting a friend into the bathroom while I use the toilet seems perfectly okay, in fact, necessary.
11. There are no rules to follow unless I am winning at the game. If I am losing, I may restart the game as many times as I deem are fair to myself and that increase my chances at kicking your asssss. Also, if I lose the game, the fault lies squarely on the shoulders of any person I so choose in the room, or in the house, or in a book I am reading, for having had such a profoundly negative effect on the world in general.
12. When I say that I hate you, I really mean that I love you but that at that moment, I am convinced that your refusal to let me call my grandmother and tell her what you just said, means that you don't want to play with me.
13. I don't know what many words mean, but that doesn't stop me from using big ones I hear Mommy use, when I need to make a point, or from making up new ones to coerce my playmates into blugeronning (think French accent) with me near my Daddy's office [p.s. the word means 'sneak by', Bjorn tells me].
14. If I'm not having fun, there's no point to anything. [I like this one.]

;-p

Ohhh Bjorn and Liesl are such great kids. Most of the above is recalled from the glory days of Bjorn's younger years -- an era I like to refer to as the Tyranny of the Minor-ity. (You're supposed to laugh now. Or groan; okay.) xoxoxox

an evening in the life of a family person

Considering that I haven't left the house in a few days but for a quick visit to the hospital, this entry promises to be about as exciting as is standing outside the bathroom door while my brother does his biweekly thing. (They feed him NOTHING, refined NOTHING, I tell you! Exaggeration.)

Hahah I am watching Jay Leno and laughing my ass off as he interviews the people on the streets:

Leno: "Do you read?"
Woman (ESL): "I read.. I read for pleasure."
Leno: "For pleasure?"
Woman (ESL): "I pleasure myself."
Woman 2 (ESL): "She just pleasure herself a minute ago."

Oooo on Conan O'Brien tonight -- METRIC and KATE BECKINSALE! I'm watching.


This is the inspiring (of suicide) view I used to see when I would stare out my bedroom window for hours on end, dreaming of what could be.... and sometimes while singing softly, "Spaceman, oh spaceman, come rescue me...."



This is the house in which my parents lived when I was born. It is built of rock. So, contrary to what I was told, I was born IN a rock, and not under one. So there.

Metric is on Conan as I type. Emily Haines looked a little nervous at first but now she's dancing all underkeyed and cool. I like their older albums.

"Parenting does limit the range of a person's concerns (and alter the dimensions of their intelligence, generally), and I have often noticed that young children are markedly more alert and intelligent then their parents, who are preoccupied
with the task/role of raising them."

Answers to the right questions

"We act as though comfort and luxury were the chief requirements of life, when all that we need to make us happy is something to be enthusiastic about." - Einstein von knowshit yerluck

Why Nerds are Unpopular:

Bullying was only part of the problem. Another problem, and possibly
an even worse one, was that we never had anything real to work on [in school].
Humans like to work; in most of the world, your work is your
identity. And all the work we did was pointless, or seemed so at the
time.

At best [school] was practice for real work we might do far in the future,
so far that we didn't even know at the time what we were practicing
for. More often it was just an arbitrary series of hoops to jump
through, words without content designed mainly for testability. (The
three main causes of the Civil War were.... Test: List the three main
causes of the Civil War.)

And there was no way to opt out. The adults had agreed among
themselves that this was to be the route to college. The only way to
escape this empty life was to submit to it.

Teenage kids used to have a more active role in society. In pre-
industrial times, they were all apprentices of one sort or another,
whether in shops or on farms or even on warships. They weren't left
to create their own societies. They were junior members of adult
societies.

Teenagers seem to have respected adults more then, because the adults
were the visible experts in the skills they were trying to learn. Now
most kids have little idea what their parents do in their distant
offices, and see no connection (indeed, there is precious little)
between schoolwork and the work they'll do as adults.

And if teenagers respected adults more, adults also had more use for
teenagers. After a couple years' training, an apprentice could be a
real help. Even the newest apprentice could be made to carry messages
or sweep the workshop.

Now adults have no immediate use for teenagers. They would be in the
way in an office. So they drop them off at school on their way to
work, much as they might drop the dog off at a kennel if they were
going away for the weekend.

What happened? We're up against a hard one here. The cause of this
problem is the same as the cause of so many present ills:
specialization. As jobs become more specialized, we have to train
longer for them. Kids in pre-industrial times started working at
about 14 at the latest; kids on farms, where most people lived, began
far earlier. Now kids who go to college don't start working full-time
till 21 or 22. With some degrees, like MDs and PhDs, you may not
finish your training till 30.

Teenagers now are useless, except as cheap labor in industries like
fast food, which evolved to exploit precisely this fact. In almost
any other kind of work, they'd be a net loss. But they're also too
young to be left unsupervised. Someone has to watch over them, and
the most efficient way to do this is to collect them together in one
place. Then a few adults can watch all of them.

If you stop there, what you're describing is literally a prison,
albeit a part-time one. The problem is, many schools practically do
stop there. The stated purpose of schools is to educate the kids. But
there is no external pressure to do this well. And so most schools do
such a bad job of teaching that the kids don't really take it
seriously-- not even the smart kids. Much of the time we were all,
students and teachers both, just going through the motions.

.
.

There are certainly great public school teachers. The energy and
imagination of my fourth grade teacher, Mr. Mihalko, made that year
something his students still talk about, thirty years later. But
teachers like him were individuals swimming upstream. They couldn't
fix the system.

.
.

In almost any group of people you'll find hierarchy. When groups of
adults form in the real world, it's generally for some common
purpose, and the leaders end up being those who are best at it. The
problem with most schools is, they have no purpose. But hierarchy
there must be. And so the kids make one out of nothing.

.
.

When there is some real external test of skill, it isn't painful to
be at the bottom of the hierarchy. A rookie on a football team
doesn't resent the skill of the veteran; he hopes to be like him one
day and is happy to have the chance to learn from him. The veteran
may in turn feel a sense of noblesse oblige. And most importantly,
their status depends on how well they do against opponents, not on
whether they can push the other down.

Court hierarchies are another thing entirely. This type of society
debases anyone who enters it. There is neither admiration at the
bottom, nor noblesse oblige at the top. It's kill or be killed.

The mediocrity of American public schools has worse consequences than
just making kids unhappy for six years. It breeds a rebelliousness
that actively drives kids away from the things they're supposed to be
learning.

This is the sort of society that gets created in American secondary
schools. And it happens because these schools have no real purpose
beyond keeping the kids all in one place for a certain number of
hours each day. What I didn't realize at the time, and in fact didn't
realize till very recently, is that the twin horrors of school life,
the cruelty and the boredom, both have the same cause.

"Love is at the same time the most generous and the most egotistical thing in nature; the most generous because it receives nothing and gives all -- pure mind being only able to give and not receive; the most egotistical, for that which he seeks in the subject, that which he enjoys in it, is himself and never anything else." - Friedrich von Schiller.

Funny feelings (not of the climbing-the-rope-in-gym-class variety)

Okay.

If you've ever flipped through my wallet while I was in the shower, you'll know that I NEVER carry my health card with me. I store my card, along with my York alumni card, void laminated birth certificate and expired Canadian passport, in a folder with my important worldly papers (tax papers, bank statements, love letters. Okay, I don't have any love letters; I have some letters from highschool stalkers, but no real, heartfelt words over which to pour affectionately and longingly during times of low self-esteem. Which are never; so, whatever.). Back to my mind-numbing story.

The day of my flight to Toronto, flipping through pay stubs and tax forms, I see my student loan papers from RBC. I have a funny feeling about my loan, so I pack my loan papers. (Good thing I brought them to Toronto, as RBC's incompetence nearly cost me my credit rating yet again -- I had to fax them evidence pronto of my student loan status. And the form they claimed that they did not receive, was the form I had brought with me, Yeahhh baby! RBC ZERO) So I was flipping through my envelopes and see my outdated, photoless red-and-white health card... have a funny feeling... think, *funny thoughts begone; no, I do not want to have to use that... thoughts, go away... go away, hellooo I'm talking.. no, don't reach for it, what the -- stop it, I don't ever use it -- it's just extra weight in my bag --* and there it softly falls into my bag.

Yes, I brought my health card with me. And I used it, today, for the first time in yeeeeeeeears. I won't divulge the exact reason I went to the walk-in clinic after 2 days of pure pain (I resisted taking anything), as I want to avoid looking like a complete doofus in this entry, but I will reiterate some timeless words of wisdom: do not stick anything in your ears that is smaller than your elbow. And don't put your ears in the path of a high-powered water jetstream. Repeatedly. And then don't stick old q-tips (that you've found in the dusty basement) too far into your ears, to absorb the itchy water in your ear canal. And then don't be a hero and refuse to take anything for the pain and not sleep for 2 days.

My mother drove me to the local clinic tonight. Macey was my nurse. Or maybe it was Tracey; I couldn't hear very well (and I'm sure that my mother appreciated my telling the entire waiting room about my sexual history through the thin curtain. No, no one asked about my sexual history, much to my relief and dismay. It's been a long time since I've been to the doctor, and I didn't know what to expect. So, taking the cue from my family motto, I expected the worst. No, I expected all good things, because doctors have drugs, and drugs make me feel good). Tracey led me into a waiting cubicle and told me to have a seat. I jumped up on the table with the protective whitepaper covering, ripping it, then apologized for ripping it. Tracey took my temperature in my ear. Ouch. Fever. Told me to wait for the doctor. I don't know if I told her 'thanks;' I was holding back tears from the pain, and from remembering Old Yeller. I loved that dog, but his memory revisits at odd times in my life. Oh, forgive me; I'm on medication right now -- by tonight I was so happy when the doctor prescribed steroids for me, that I could have kissed her. Pills? Yes please. Drugs? ANYTHING.

I waited for the doctor to arrive. After what felt like 10 minutes, I was delirious, and recited in my mind a few possible exchanges between myself and the doctor.

Doctor: "How are you today?"
Me: "Oh, I'm just wonderful, thanks." *eyes rolling back in head*

Doctor: "What is the problem today?"
Me: "My ears are infected. The pain is constant. According to Louise L. Hay, earaches are indicative of tense family relationships and arguments. I'm hearing things I don't want to hear, and the anger has settled in my ears. To feel better, I must tell myself, 'I hear good and harmonious exchanges in my world. I am a centre for love.' But while I'm doing that affirmation, can you give me some good medication that will knock me out and that boasts many side effects -- preferably some unknown ones too -- so I can sleep for a while before shrugging off this mortal coil? Many. Thanks."

But no, I needn't have wasted my time entertaining such possible worlds, because the doctor yelled, "Sonya?" from the hallway as I was enroute to passing out against the wall, but caught myself, and I called back, feeling ridiculous, "present." Dr. Thompson walked into my cubicle. Of pastel green and yellow. Soothing.

Dr. T, friendly, about my age, all smiles and bloodshot eyes: "Hi! You're here 'cause you have a bit of an earache? Ah yes, and a fever."

Me: :| [No, I just like to sit in waiting rooms with exceedingly bright lights -- which I'm sure are a great hit with your migraine sufferers] "Yes, my ears hurt." [Brilliantly articulate. Also, I forgot to ask her if the pain could be caused by impacted wisdom teeth. Or, maybe I didn't want to hear an affirmative to that one.]

Dr. T: "Do you have any allergies? Have you had a cold? Are you a smoker?"

Me: *half smiling, but trying not to 'cause it hurts to move my face*

Dr. T, mischievously: "You are a smoker?!"

Me: "Nooo -- I'm from Vancouver!" [My logic, even when I'm feeling well, is like this]

Dr. T: "Me too! Whereabouts are you from?" as she looks into my ear.

Me: as I try not to cry from pain, "Strathcona, but now near Burrard and Davie."

Dr. T: "I'm from Point Grey."

Me: "Oh yes... Are you planning on moving back?"

Dr. T: "Yes, I would LOVE to. I moved here for training, then met someone, and he has a business here, so he doesn't want to move just yet. So I have to choose -- either career/relationship/love, orrrrr, HAPPINESS!

Me: "Yes, and all mutually exclusive."

Okay this transcript is putting me to sleep and I left out most of the good parts. Anyway, short story made long then short: was prescribed some goop for my ears, took 2 advil, and now I am wired. It's 2 am. Listening to Sarah McLachlan's Fumbling Towards Ecstacy. Man, I am so happy to feel healthy again! And happy that I followed my intuition and brought my health card. Unless I made this happen by bringing my health card... oh well; it was fun to feel pain and then to have the pain vanish. The vanishing part was my favourite. Loving the gratitude right now.

Moral of the story? Don't tell people about things you don't do, because shortly thereafter, you will be rubbing the medicated steroid cream in your face and LOVING it, almost as much as McDonald's. (No, I didn't eat that. I wasn't THAT out of it.)

I made some tasty soup broth.

Speaking of broth, my brother Bjorn has a physio appointment tomorrow morning. I am full of false confidence in the ear cream and am well enough to take care of Bjorn tomorrow, but his grandparents are expecting him. We shall see.

I and my bubbly steroid cream love you all.

Amber leaves tomorrow

I cannot sleep, thinking about Liesl's dolls; right now I can see at least five doll arms and feet sticking out (or smushed against something ouchy) of her wooden toybox. Lookin' mighty uncomfortable. I cannot sleep with a clear conscience knowing that her dolls are out there, in the dark of night, suffocating and upside down or doing yoga or kama sutra and mutely crying out for help, while I'm resting here pleasantly and horizontally snuggled all warm and soft in a bed a few feet away. Must rearrange dolls so that they can breathe and then everything will be all right. All must breathe. Or sleep with me and my blankie. I mean, it's only logical.

The progression of Catholic Schoolgirl Syndrome, illustrated: repress, suppress, undress, a mess, confess, redress.

Today Amber and I were in the freshly swept (and dusty as springfield) basement, sorting through the last of the boxes. Of past hopes and dreams. aka the baggage of a family torn apart. aka the memorabilia of a circus family. aka the shit we frantically shoved into boxes, 15-10 years ago when company was coming over, that we never got around to sorting. aka the boxes of notes we thought might be required in a legal case, when and if they ever recover that body we found on the road in '76.

The results of expedition Clean Up Frikkin' Unordered Never-will-be-looked-at-again Boxes of Infinity in Finite Basement Area: six large emptied boxes; a million organized boxes mainly consisting of (and this was unexpected) Christmas decorations and baby clothes; four big black garbage bags full of stuff to throw away; and two cases of asthma. Woohoo! Mom will be happy now that she has more room to store more crapola. Amber did most of the sorting while I played with Bjorn and read through old papers from my days of innocence: letters to Santa, drawings, report cards filled with praise, a crumpled report card wherein a teacher had awarded me a "B" for effort, that Bitch. (At the time, I was traumatized. I locked myself in the bathroom and considered suicide, then thought it through, and concluded that by simply not showing the report card to my mother and by refusing to discuss grade details with classmates, all my worries of failure and inherent worthlessness would miraculously cease to exist! Alas, Damn these days of computerized records! Damn computers with their culture of redundancy and back-up systems! Bless and damn administrative incompetence, depending upon whether or not the incompetence is in my favour....!)

While going through more boxes, I re-found one of the shark teeth that I'd found at Venice Beach in Florida when I was 10. I handed the tooth to Bjorn.

Bjorn: "Is this a REAL shark tooth?!"

Me: "Yep."

Bjorn, clearly disgusted and a little intrigued: *gasp* - "Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwww!" *as he put it into his mouth.*

Hmmm, yeah. That about sums up the theme of my life: 'Wow, that seems weird and vile! I must put it in me. Rather, I must have it in me already. I must be vile, now. I mean, nevermind.'

Yes, don't read meaning into that; my fertile mind is filtering all thoughts and experiences through a kinky glass this evening. Today, I went to an Adult Store with my mother. Okay, Canadian Tire, but they don't exactly sell children's toys there, now do they? Or maybe they do. I used to play with WD-40, sooo.... But then later today I did indeed venture into an Adult Store, with my sister ("Aren't We Naughty?" -- that's the store, not my proud rhetoric) so that she could purchase stuff for her 'friend': Handcuffs. Questionable lip balm. Edible body powder. I saw some cool things in there. Yes, I provide a service with this blog; I'm always keeping my eyes open for life-enhancing ideas to share with my 'friends'. I felt funny in a bad way, standing in the store with my sister, in front of the strap-on section. (I will burn in hell for that one. I almost wrote that, "I will punish myself severely for joking about such things," then re-membered that to punish oneself is self-abuse, and on and on with the you-film-muffins. There's no escaping the gutter. This is just getting worse and worse.)

Please enjoy the reversion to thoughts of a repressed 12-year-old while this lasts.

Did I ever really NOT live here? Strange. My life's history seems a daydream from the moment I left here those years ago until the moment I returned.

I love my family. How can anyone ever hurt another person, knowing that every person was once a child.. still is....

It's late at night and I'm feeling and feeding the emotion. Of a 12-year-old. It's fun. =D

Cryptacular stories

Soooo.

I'm north of Toronto, in Oak Ridges, sitting on the couch with my mother's laptop. Said bye-bye to Bjorn's bodycast today! He was so happy to get that thing off! Well no, he wasn't. He was expressionless but for a few choice [swear] words to the nice doctors. Now he is superparanoid about his exposed leg: "Don't touch me! It hurts!" Funny how people hold on for too long to what slows healing. Or rather, to what helps us to begin to heal, but what we must ultimately release to strengthen and grow. On a related note, Stefanie sent me this link about a Full Moon Release Ritual. (Thanks.) Anyway, so Bjorn opted to keep the cast as a wall decoration or something. ("Er sumptin'" is Liesl slang -- she's so cute and ALWAYS happy.) Bjorn is in the wheelchair and Liesl has been pushing him all over the place, sometimes at his request, sometimes at his inconvenience. He needs some practice, but for now at least there's no danger of him falling over at high speeds. I'm sure that he'll be burning carpet and doing wheelies soon. After 3 months of wheelchairing it, he'll begin rehab and relearn to walk. We can teach him to walk on water -- he'll not question it if we tell him it's the norm. That'd be saweeet.

Now my sister (Amber) is doing pilates. I will join her. Be right back. (2 seconds later) Okay screw that. Amber is an inch taller than the last time I saw her, and she says it's all thanks to pilatesss. I am just not in the mood for balancing my body on one leg, perpendicular to the floor. For dinner, I ate an entire pizza myself. I know.

I took lots of photos of Bjorn and Liesl -- and I would post lots of photos, except that I realized on the way to the airport that I'd managed to pack my camera, batteries, extra memory cards, battery charger AND the CD with Canon's proprietary photo software... yet somehow I'd forgotten to pack the usb cord. I could pick one up from the store, but I'd rather mock-complain about it. =D

Oh, that reminds me of a story! I'll wait while you grab a cup of hot cocoa and a snuggle buddy... Ready? Okay! Please follow along to my overtired recap of the previous many hours; you may turn the page when the chimes ring, like this: *drrrinnngg*.

I'm tired so this won't be much of a story. And I'm too tired to tell the story about why I'm tired. So I'll start with the Airport. Made it to airport by 10pm. Checked in at the automated web portal thing. Changed my seat from 04B to 28B (the last row in the plane) just for giggles and because I had the option available to me. Flight was delayed an hour. Called my mother to confirm my flight delay; reached the answering machine, left message in a whisper as the entire room was silent and listening to each other's conversations. Saw someone who looked very familiar, stared in shocked amazement until her friend noticed, but then I snapped out of it and saw that person was not who I thought, recentred, made fun of myself for recentring, reminded myself of the time I met a cool guy at the ferry to Nanaimo, then laughed to myself about adventures, then gave a mental note to myself to stop abusing commas in blogs. There were 3 people on standby but only 2 seats available. (I know this because I was one of the silent ones listening to others' conversations.) Also overheard a phone conversation behind me; a young woman was reaming out her dad (that just sounds wrong) for changing her computer settings and for loading antivirus software that ironically prevented her computer from loading properly. She was distressed, as she had classes as soon as she would arrive back to Montreal. I waited a few minutes until the tension dissipated and she'd stopped throwing things at the window, then I suavely asked (to the back of her head):

"Sooo, what's your Operating System?" (Typical geeky pick-up line.)

She: "Ummmm, I don't know."

Me: "Are you a fukking retard?" (No, I did not say that.)

I looked at her laptop, saw that she was using Windows XP, at which point I'd determined that we had no potential future together. *Lin-ux, linux-uxm lin-uxxx!* And also she was, like, twelve. And like, talked, like this. Totally. So I looked at her laptop, tried a few things, asked her about her dreams (she was going to choose sociology as her major! Her father wanted her to go to university, but her dream is fashion and fine arts) -- when I was suddenly inspired by the God of Predictable Cheese and gave an impassioned diatribe about the value of taking action for the Love of Knowledge [or anything else] and not for feelngs of indebtedness thanks to a misplaced sense of duty, and ended my lecture with that good ol' quote, "Do what makes you come alive! The world needs people who have come alive!" to a standing ovation. In my mind. But in the reality we both shared, the debut of my 'Empower Yourself' proselytizing binge was a sincere yet forced moment, and likely not at all moving. But it kinda was. Oh! Here's another bit of our converstion:

Me: "So, what do you like to do? Or, okay, you take sociology, but what do you like to do for fun?"

Her reply: "Sexual ethics."

Me: [Silence.] "How?...." [Look of.. something.. unreadable] "Oh, you mean, that's a sociology class... Gotchaaaaaa."

Me, ending my rant: "I think that a person must know what one wants to get out of school, and what skills one wants to develop, before committing oneself to 4 years of voluntary debt simply to 'get a degree'.."

She: "Thanks, I'm glad someone told me this now; this is what I need to hear."

Ah, tough love. And the next thing I knew, I was in the line to board the plane, and I never saw that girl again. (2 days ago, I know.) Airport romance. Anyway, on the plane I sat beside a guy named Cliff who is an emo-looking neuroscience ph.d candidate at McGill, who is good at pointing out fires in buildings as planes take off (I took a picture of the building burning but it didn't turn out), who carries an extra set of headphones for Sonya to use, extra chocolate for Sonya to eat and extra patience for Sonya to try. We watched the beginning of the Office Space movie until the credit card thing hijacked the screen. Cliff sat and laughed, watching bad latenight tv as I sat in amazement at the new music videos and danced a little. Chocolateeeeee. Man, there was quite some turbulance at the back of the plane, yes. I captured some video of the most turbulant moments using my camera. (My camera was the flight's blackbox, I joked. In the event of a crash, I would survive, and hold my camera tight against my body, to ensure its preservation.)

So much more that I forget, or that I don't feel like typing... and of course all of those forgotten moments are the most brilliantly fascinating moments, while the moments I remember and blog are the ones that fit most easily into my constructed little world. Oh, I design my world. Right now is the opportune time to crash and burn or make and break and find and shine.

Ridiculoso.

"Those who have changed the universe have never done it by changing officials, but always by inspiring the people."

Arthur Koestler - I've read his Act of Creation.

True creativity often starts where language ends.
— Arthur Koestler, The Act of Creation, 1964.

We cannot unthink unless we are insane.
— Arthur Koestler

The ultimate truth is penultimately a falsehood.
— Arthur Koestler

(That quote above reminds me of Hegel's Dialectic - "Dialectic is thus the transition of things, and of knowledge, from potentiality or abstraction to actuality and content, but in such a way that the arising of a fuller determination points beyond itself to a further determination. Every determination is both a result and a new beginning, concrete and abstract, for it occurs within a process of the becoming of a thing (or of knowledge), and hence is concrete relative to the origin of the process but abstract relative to the telos of the whole process. A thing becomes more and more fully developed through this successive dialectic of self-reconstruction." - the transmutation of a form into its opposite and the synthesis of those opposites into something new and transcendental.. always the dance of the contradictions; of assertion and dissolution.

And Koestler recognizes the same process: "If we watch ourselves honestly, we shall often find that we have begun to argue against a new idea even before it has been completely stated."

Like Michel Foucault, the act of asserting something by naming it, is what makes it possible to negate/oppose and control the thing. Kierkegaard said that too. Probably everyone said this, but I haven't read everyone yet.

And yes, Foucault's dialectic is different from Hegel's, but whatever. (I should use that line as my thesis.)

More on the act of creation:

It all begins when the soul would have its way with you.
— Emerson

Begin at the beginning... and go on till you come to the end: then stop.
— Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll 1832-1898

You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.
— Friedrich Nietzsche

Individuality of expression is the beginning and end of all art.
— Johannes Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832) Proverbs in Prose

It is better to begin in the evening than not at all.
— English proverb

If you want to build a boat, do not instruct the men to saw wood, stitch the sails, prepare the tools and organize the work, but make them long for setting sail and travel to distant lands.
— Antoine De Saint-Exupéry

Don´t ask what the world needs.
Rather ask – what makes you come alive?
Then go and do it!
Because what the world needs is people
who have come alive
— Howard Thurman

so right

"The Grace" by the Neverending White Lights is fun to cry to, and then to pretend you weren't really crying but were hastily wiping your face to clear away the aftermath of the sudden onslaught of itchy throat cough thing.

I went for a walk to the Davie Street Starbucks at Thurlow. I saw lots of gay people. I talked to one of them named "Rob". He is a screenwriter / short film and documentary producer who has recently moved from the West End to Commercial Drive area. A gay girl asked if anyone wanted a cappucino. I said, "No, thanks." Rob yelled, "Yes!" I told him I came to Starbucks to listen to conversations and to study the peculiar social behaviour of the gays. He told me that when he hit his 40s, he took stock of his life and changed what needed changing - his expectations, his relationships, his underwear, his follow-through with living his values. "I had to deal with the expectations of others -- and there really weren't any expectations that others had for me; the expectations were all in my mind -- but I realized that the universe only wanted for me to make a decision. Just make a decision, and run through the door and play! So I would make a decision, and then the universe would open up for me, and if it wasn't the right decision, then fuck, I would know right away, and other doors would open."

(There must be an angel with a smile on her face.)

Vive la science

'The most exciting phrase to hear in science, the one that heralds new discoveries, is not "Eureka!" ("I found it!") but rather "hmm....that's funny..."' -- Isaac Asimov

"In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite." -- Paul Dirac

"Végre nem butulok tovább (Finally, I will not become any dumber)." -- Paul Erdös (Hungarian mathematician, 1913-1996) epitaph for himself.

Science research quotes again.

this is interesting only to me

"Fig. 5 The plane right-angled triangle's proof of correspondence with the 4-fold, 2-dimensional symmetry in Nature." Ecotecture

Pythagoras rotated this unique type of triangle (with its one right angle) in a fourfold pattern, its longest side facing outward, and so generated the symmetrical boundaries of a perfect square. Then, by a redistribution of the triangles making up the symmetrical pattern, he showed that the remaining two sides of the right-angled triangle structure also generated the symmetry of two perfect squares. And, that these two squares of symmetry are contained within and equivalent to the symmetry of the square of the longest side. (Fig. 5) This is true of all triangles having a right-angle, and not true of any other archetypal geometric structure. (Ref: "The Ascent of Man", Jacob Bronowski)

The validity of science’s natural laws and universal theories, dependent as they are on the plane right-angled triangle, speaks for the correspondence of this geometrical structure with Nature’s symmetry, and the source of symmetry in 2-dimensional space. If there were no such correspondence, then its numerical expressions of the plane right-angled triangle would not have led to subsequent mathematical descriptions corresponding with the laws of nature and universe.

All Is Vibration

All Vibration Follows Universal Law

All Gives All Receives

All Loves



All Vibration

Seeks its own Level

To find any Level

Set forth the Vibration

By Law you Will Go there

By Law it Will come.

v

In Harmony With Universal Law

All Vibration moves as One Flow

Interrupt the Flow only to Find

In This Natural Order thus does it Go

In Forever Passing Through, Divided in Two

Receptivity be the Way of Emptiness

The One calls to Come and Fill

Giving be the Way of Abundance

The One Flows forth to Fill


Always then the Way of the Flow

Dependence on That Which is Above

The Object of Dependence

To that Which is Below

Two will Repel

Two will Attract

Two will Together, Interact

Look then to Four

For All that Need Be

For All Creation

Vibration Be

One.

Two.

One and Two.

Three.

One and Two

Beget Four

Thus Opens the Infinite Door

R. Buckminster Fuller

Paolo Soleri

John Todd - "The bulk of my work has to do with dealing with toxins in the environment, which are damaging to many people."

We define ecological design as "any form of design that minimizes environmentally destructive impacts by integrating itself with living processes." -Sim Van der Ryn, Peter Calthorpe