A day in the life of a food...

Who knew country artists could be so Buddhist?

poweredbyatari — Fri, 25 Jul 2008 14:25:00 GMT

How many times have you heard someone say "If I had his money I would do things my way" But little they know That it's so hard to find One rich man in ten With a satisfied mind Once I was wading in fortune and fame Everything that I've dreamed for to get a start in life's game But suddenly it happened I lost every dime But I'm richer by far With a satisfied mind Money can't buy back your youth when you're old Or a friend when you're lonely or a love that's grown cold The wealthiest person Is a pauper at times Compared to the man With a satisfied mind When life has ended and my time has run out My friends and my loved ones, I'll leave there's no doubt But there's one thing for certain When it comes my time I'll leave this old world With a satisfied mind "A Satisfied Mind" - Porter Wagoner

Bridging the gulf of sloth

poweredbyatari — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 17:32:20 GMT

As I was walking to work today I passed by my apartment complex's trash compactor and epiphany struck. The compactor is a simple mechanism: a large bin with a door in the side to put the garbage into, once the door is closed does the device begin its compacting. But outside this modern convenience was a bag of trash sitting in front of the open door. The impression it leaves is that it was effort enough to get the garbage to general AREA of the compactor, but to lift it 3-4 feet to put INSIDE was a little too much. And I got to thinking - what is it in human nature where it's easier to leave something in front of where it needs to go rather than put it away? This happens all the time, people will put their garbage on TOP of a public garbage can rather than IN it, dishes manage to make it NEAR the dishwasher, etc. (I'm not claiming to be immune to this kind of behavior, either, just ask my girlfriend.) But it's like there's a hidden mental barrier in us that gives us the motivation to put something in the general vicinity of where it goes rather than putting it away completely.

Like the Monty Hall of my subconscious

poweredbyatari — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 14:59:21 GMT

My dreams have been extremely bountiful as of late. For the last two weeks there has been rarely an evening where my sleep isn't populated with some theme of me getting a new job or winning an enormous jackpot. One evening I dreamt I won $100,000 from a slot machine, the next I was at a job interview where they said: "Actually, we were pretty impressed by your resume and the application test you took when you got hired on, so this interview is really just a formality to make sure you're compatible with our company." (In fact, last night I was hired for a position that required Japanese language skills and I suddenly started speaking it fluently.) Now, while I am thrilled to be having a series of dreams where pennies are raining from heaven, I am concerned about the hidden message my subconscious is telling me. Is it my hidden insecurities telling me that the only way I'll come out ahead is in my dreams? Or is my hindbrain telling me "Look, I know you're going to be returning to work at that soul-sucking job, so here's a pleasant image to wake up to so your day doesn't totally suck." I've been getting out of the habit of attaching divinatory or prophetic outcomes to my dreamings. I did that recently and I ended up more disappointed than Walter Mondale after he had invested in Betamax. Just because you dreamt that you had a threesome with two supermodels doesn't mean it's going to happen. A: "I just dreamt I won the lottery, so I'm cashing out my life savings to buy tickets!" B: "I dreamt I took a dump and a small mouth bass came out. I'm thinking I shouldn't have had Taco Bell last night." (Note to karma: this is not me saying that I would not like a better job and/or a butt-ton of money) The human psyche isn't a terribly rational thing at all. The logic your emotions take would be called "fuzzy" by many and "twisted" by most. But if you want to get REALLY irrational, you tap into the subconscious - it's like an autistic kid with an IV drip that randomly fluxes between sugar, heroin, amphetamines, and dog quaaludes. With a lot of the shit that's happened in my life I've learned not pay attention to what my subconscious is telling me, and then disregard it. There's nothing wrong with a gut feeling, but if you're gut feeling gives you answers like Brittany Spears after too many Jäger-bombs, it's a good idea to temper it a bit.

Creative kegel exercises

poweredbyatari — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 14:41:32 GMT

I consider myself a pretty creative and artistic guy. But my current dilemma is this: most of my creative inspiration comes to me at moments where I can't apply it. For example, I'm at work right now, but I know the only thing I'll be able to write at length is the current journal entry. That is because of two reasons: 1 - I work in a call center. I know a lot of people who have managed to get their "work" done at work, but they're also employed in positions with little to no oversight. I wish I were that lucky, the management here must've taken their training course at Stalag 17. I can be surreptitious with my blog only because I've mastered the art of Alt-Tab long ago. 2 - By the nature of my work, I am chained to my desk like an oarsman in a slave barge. Overall this means that I don't have very much control over the amount of free time I get between phone calls (sometimes it's an hour, other times it's seconds). One thing that frustrates me as a creative individual more than anything is having the flow of my creativity interrupted. Just ask anyone who has approached me in the middle of my writing - if they're lucky I'm merely reproachful, otherwise I may very well tear their throat out with my teeth. For small, fluffy pieces (like this blog), it's no big deal if I get interrupted, I know that I'll return back to it eventually. And if I lose my work, it's no big deal. But for some of the things I REALLY want to be doing, I want to be able to put my full attention to it without fear of being sent to HR for snarling at my manager when she interrupts me to discuss my work performance.

The Return Of The Native

poweredbyatari — Thu, 10 Jul 2008 18:07:55 GMT

But unlike the Thomas Hardy novel, I'm a little too early for Guy Fawkes Day. I'm kinda-sorta returned back to Tribe, but not with the previous fervor I have had in the years past. It's been about January since I last seriously signed in and much has changed for me. (Not all of it bad, before you flinch.) I feel a bit odd getting back to here. It's like going back to high school after summer break - you know where things are, but still are unsteady on your feet.

You maniacs!

poweredbyatari — Mon, 21 Jan 2008 22:55:54 GMT

This is a good new/bad news kinda post here. First - the bad news. The reason why I've been conspicuously absent from Tribe is kinda twofold, but the main reason is that they finally blocked the site from my workplace - for no other reason than that they need my work environment to be a "no fun zone." I'm still taking steps to find better work, but right now they've been derailed by something that I'm going to explain in the next paragraph. The good news. I've been admitted into college. I'm currently enrolled at Marylhurst Univeristy with the intention of then going to ITT Tech to pursue a degree in Drafting. There's a huge demand for draftspeople nowadays so I figured it'd be nice to change gears before finally getting onto what I want to be studying - film. Feel free to message me on tribe (the messages show up in my email account) or PM me for my email addy. Sorry about the silence - I'm still posting Aaron's Board Of Bad articles at http://aaronsboardofbad.blogspot.com/

My Xmas wish.

poweredbyatari — Fri, 21 Dec 2007 16:49:46 GMT

Dear Santa/St. Nick/Sinterniklaas/Baby Jesus/Papa Noel/Father Christmas/Old Man of Winter/etc. What I need more than anything is a better job that respects my desire to continue my education and isn't intimidated by it. I'm tired of interviewing with places and having the response be "Well, we need you to be flexible in your scheduling to meet our needs, so going back to school is probably going to conflict with that." That's it, that's all.

Something for Christmas

poweredbyatari — Fri, 21 Dec 2007 14:06:25 GMT

All the streets are filled with laughter and light And the music of the season And the merchants windows are all bright With the faces of the children And the families hurrying to their homes As the sky darkens and freezes They'll be gathering around the hearths and tales Giving thanks for all gods graces And the birth of the rebel Jesus Well they call him by the Prince of Peace And they call him by the Savior And they pray to him upon the seas And in every bold endeavor As they fill his churches with their pride and gold And their faith in him increases But they've turned the nature that I worshiped in From a temple to a robbers den In the words of the rebel Jesus We guard our world with locks and guns And we guard our fine possessions And once a year when Christmas comes We give to our relations And perhaps we give a little to the poor If the generosity should seize us But if any one of us should interfere In the business of why they are poor They get the same as the rebel Jesus But please forgive me if I seem To take the tone of judgement For I've no wish to come between This day and your enjoyment In this life of hardship and of earthly toil We have need for anything that frees us So I bid you pleasure And I bid you cheer From a heathen and a pagan On the side of the rebel Jesus. "The Rebel Jesus" by Jackson Browne

To the last I grapple with thee.

poweredbyatari — Wed, 19 Dec 2007 23:17:08 GMT

When we think of the word "addiction" we usually have specific images in mind of what that person can be addicted to. In general we usually associate addictions as centering around substances or actions that have some euphoria attached to them. It's easy to see how someone could get addicted to the numbing intoxication of alcohol, the escapism of narcotics, the heart-racing thrill of gambling, and so on. Very rarely do we think of the more subtle processes that one can get addicted to. Munchausen Syndrome is a psychiatric disorder in which a person feigns illness, injury, or some other misfortune in order to gain attention and sympathy. It is also an addiction to being victimized. In the eyes of someone with MS, their life is a tale of tragedy and woe on par with an epic written by Dostoyevsky. In their mind they've been the target of abuse, neglect and fraud in addition to their constant struggle with whatever chronic ailment is bothering them that day. They have the tendency of taking advantage of people's better natures and once someone demonstrates empathy and generosity to them, the person is hooked. In a way I can see the attraction. The idea of having someone always there to take care of our needs and wants out of a feeling of generosity is pretty insidious. Not only are people dropping everything to take care of you, but superficially there's nothing tyrannical about it. Most people have a hard time believing that someone would go out of his way to hurt himself in order to garner attention. Think about it - we don't go around assuming people are crazy, so what person in their right mind would lie about having cancer? I recently read an article about a woman local to me who is suspected to have had a form of MS called Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy. ( http://wweek.com/editorial/3406/10148/ ). Where people with MS inflict pain on themselves, MSbP sufferers externalize their trauma on another person - usually someone they care for, so it's the cared one who has autism, cerebral palsy, etc. And again the attention is given to the caregiver at that person's expense. (Now MSbP is currently being debated in the psychiatric field as to whether it truly exists or not. Mainly because the way someone with MSbP treats their child is essentially abuse - mental and physical. Most of what supports the existence of MSbP is anecdotal evidence.) Reading it got me thinking: In what ways am I addicted to the idea of being a victim? There are quite a few I can name off-hand (and am not going to go into just yet.) But thinking about it made me realize that self-pity is nothing more than another form of self-victimization, it is a means of hurting myself to keep myself in a center of attention (both positive and negative). The more I let go of the parts of me that keep me victimized, the more aggressive they become at wresting attention from me. It's a difficult process - the idea of slinking back to the place where I started from seems as easy can comforting as slipping into a warm bath sometimes. Ultimately I realize that it's a fear of being unnoticed that has kept me where I have been for so long. By being the center of my own personal 3-act play I've got a lot of sympathy, but unfortunately theatre is a very limited medium, once you've stepped to the forefront there really isn't anywhere to go.

My current source of mirth.

poweredbyatari — Thu, 13 Dec 2007 21:32:28 GMT

My work environment is going out of its way to make sure I "know my place", but fortunately I've managed to find more than a few chortles with the help of... THE SUPEREST!!! http://www.thesuperest.com

Aaron's Board Of Bad, Vol. 66

poweredbyatari — Thu, 13 Dec 2007 02:30:42 GMT

Le Samourai (1967) Starring: Alain Delon, Francois Perier, Nathalie Delon, Caty Rosier, Jacques Leroy, Michel Boisrond First, the Lowdown: A French hitman suddenly finds himself a target. Jef leads a solitary life. The only other occupant of his sparse apartment is a small finch in a cage. Leaving his home, he walks the streets waiting for a car to steal. He takes it to a garage in the outskirts. The garage owner switches the car's plates and then hands Jef a gun. He takes the tainted car to the apartment of Jane, a woman he has been seeing behind the back of her fiance. Once there he tells her when he has arrived and how long he's stayed there, but Jane tells him that her fiance is arriving that night. So Jef alters his story by 15 minutes and then leaves. He arrives at a dingy hotel and checks in with a group of men playing cards. (“Bring cash, in case you lose,” one jests.) Jef leaves the men to their game and finally arrives at a night club. After surveying the club, he sneaks into the back office and shoots the club owner. As he leaves the scene of the murder, the first person he sees in the corridor is Valerie, the pianist of the club's jazz ensemble. Jef makes a hasty departure that catches the attention of a barman and the coat-check girl of the club. The job now completed, Jef disposes of both the gun and his stolen car, then returns to Jane's apartment about 5 minutes before Wiener, Jane's fiance, arrives – and then leaves with enough emphasis to the other man know he was there. Back at the club, the police are scouring the murder scene for clues. The Superintendent requests 20 suspects from every precinct, knowing that the longer they take to investigate, the more likely they'll lose the killer. During the sweep, Jef is picked up at the card game in the hotel because he matches the loose description of the killer: young, wearing a raincoat and hat. At the central precinct over a hundred men are grilled as to their whereabouts, a handful are picked out for having a weapon on their person. In a line-up Jef is recognized by two of the club patrons – but not by Valerie. The police call in Jane and Wiener for questioning, Jane however stands by her story that Jef was with her during the time of the murder. The superintendent doesn't believe it, however. But even after thorough questioning, the police are forced to let Jef go. Out on the street, the police have Jef tailed, but he loses them on the Metro. Later in the day he meets up with his contact to receive the other half of his payment for the hit – but the man tries to kill him because he was arrested. In the scuffle, Jef gets shot in the arm and the courier escapes. Back at police headquarters, the superintendent is more determined than ever to arrest Jef, but he has no evidence. So now Jef must sidestep the police on his tail and his trigger-happy former employers. Yet beyond all of that lies the question: why did the only eyewitness to the crime refuse to finger him? “Le Samourai” is a superb movie. For a movie that's only an hour and 45 minutes, it feels longer than that – and I mean that in a good way. Much is communicated by expression and action, where most other directors would use dialog to further the plot. And yet without being explicitly told anything about our main character, Jef, we learn so much about his character without having it spoon-fed to us. And for a movie with so little in the way of actual spoken dialog, there are very few characters that could be considered one-dimensional. The more we see Jef, our hitman, in action, the more we realize that he adheres to a strict code of business ethics – one, as he eventually learns, is not shared by the people who hired him. And yet none of this is told by Jef to any of the other characters explicitly – rather it's demonstrated by his actions. It's director Jean-Pierre Melville's ability to show his audience the story instead of telling it to us that is something one rarely finds in cinema anymore. No more than the barest minimum is said by the actors, and even then when it is absolutely necessary. It's become an obsession of modern action directors to bombard the audience with casual-sounding dialog in replacement of actual storytelling. I think a lot of action movies would benefit from using the action to play out the story instead of contrived speech. Line of the movie: “I never lose. Not really.” Five stars. Ribbed for her pleasure.

To all the "Meat Is Murder" suck-tards out there...

poweredbyatari — Mon, 03 Dec 2007 14:37:36 GMT

...put this in your thought pipe and smoke it. http://www.grandin.com/index.html

The Most Wonderful time of the year - Part One

poweredbyatari — Fri, 30 Nov 2007 20:28:36 GMT

I'm gonna tackle an easy topic here, and it's my problem with holiday shopping. Thanks to the proliferation of online shopping sites available on the Intarwebs, this has become a lesser issue, but most seasons I would look forward to shopping for Xmas with the same feeling of general loathing that people reserve for a colonoscopy. There's something about the mall crowds around this time of year that makes everyone lizard-brained and brutish. I've seen sweet elderly grandmothers transform into snarling beasts that would beat someone down with their walker upon first glimpse of a sale item. Devout churchgoers who volunteer for disabled families change into hulking thugs with all the tact of a drunken college linebacker. And even the most obedient and disciplined child will get overly giddy off the fumes from the mall Christmas tree and regress to an infantile state. As you may have guessed, I now do the bulk of my shopping online. But on the rare occasions I do have to venture out to a mass-purchasing outlet I make sure I'm prepared with a hip flask (for my nerves), a can of mace, and a taser (oftentimes the mace will only enrage a frothing senior citizen even more, but a taser will put ''em down.) I know someone who when he would hit the mall for Christmas, his first stop was a sporting goods store to buy a new aluminum bat. Not because he played the game or knew anyone who did, but because he knew that seeing a full-grown man with a bat in his hand is often enough incentive for people to give you a wide berth. Another reason why I don't shop during the holidays really has to do with income. I don't earn much, so I make it a point to make mix CDs, candles, or anything else I can cobble together with my own resources. But that means I have to go to my local craft outlet, which has been trussed up like a Christmas whore since school started. And if you think coming between a power-shopping soccer-mom and her bargain item was dangerous, you have no idea what it's like to interrupt a kraft-frau's purchasing flow. Martha Stewart's Cult of Home Design treats the holiday season much like a devout Muslim worships Ramadan. But rather than ascetic fasting and supplication, it's the idolatrous prostration before decorations of their own design. Seeing a kraft-frau in her hunting ground is much like watching a lioness stalk a gazelle - it's best done at a distance before she catches your scent and comes after YOU. You may think that by shopping at Kraft Whorehouse you're doing yourself and your family a service by saving a few dollars on presents by actually making something that MEANS to them (instead of yet another poorly chosen sweater). But then you cross the sight of a kraft-frau and the next thing you know you're staring down the barrels of twin glue-guns, both poised to braise your exposed flesh with hot, viscous goodness. So when doing your holiday shopping out there folks, be extra-wary of your actions in public - and remember your riot gear.

The Most Wonderful time of the year - Introduction

poweredbyatari — Thu, 29 Nov 2007 16:07:54 GMT

This is going to be a multipart blog about the holiday season. Yeah, I know what you're thinking out there: "Yet another vitriol laden tirade about how much the holiday season sucks written by someone who can't avoid participating in it nonetheless." But hear me out for a second and allow me to clarify a few points. I actually like this time of year. With the mass of religious and national traditions already crammed together in one 45 day period, there isn't any other span where a group of people can party together on a weekend for the sheer fact that "It's Christmas!" It's a festive season all fringed in tinsel and red and green velvet with ermine trim. Being the party monster that I am, I enjoy any occasion to celebrate (and have frequently made events up, ask me what I want to do on 9-11 sometime), so the Holiday Season is a perfect time for me. Another groovy vibe that I really dig on around this time is the sense of togetherness. People are encouraged to be more charitable to their peers and engender a sense of family and community with each other. That whole "Peace on Earth" thing seems all the more realistic in December than it does in July. Beyond Christmas, New Year's Eve has always instilled a sense of hope and renewal in me, no matter what the past year's adversities have been. If for any reason, the inspiration for this serial here is because there are quite a few things that annoy me about Christmas, that probably also annoy everyone else. It doesn't take a clairvoyant to know I'm not going into unexplored territory, but I may have a surprise hither and thither. But before you lump me into the same pile as those who persistently bitch about Christmas for no other reason than to harsh everyone else's buzz, think again. * * * * * Whenever I hear the Yuletide standard "The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year" I can't think of it in any other context than irony. Probably because 90% of the time I hear it, I'm in some crowded shopping outlet filled with temperamental children and even more agitated adults. So the song always conjures up an image of Christmas misery for me with screaming toddlers and frustrated parents wading in a pool of torn wrapping paper, christmas lights, and broken toys. Even the phrase "The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year" is as applicable for me during this time of year as "These Are The Best Years Of Your Life" was in high school. What, is December so overwhelmingly awesome that in reflection you should feel lucky you haven't slashed your wrists yet? Then why do suicide rates always spike around Xmas? The holidays are cool and all, but honestly they don't always "peak" for me. (And in regards to high school being my "best years" - I'm sorry Mr. Principal, but I didn't get laid and start experimenting with drugs until AFTER I graduated, so in retrospect, I'd say my "best years" occurred after I turned 21 and have been continuing onward.) So, I challenge my readers out there to think back on the past year and remember this - Christmas doesn't have to be "The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year" for you.

An open message to all home entrepreneurs.

poweredbyatari — Wed, 28 Nov 2007 16:27:55 GMT

I know that you keep seeing on TV and reading in newspapers and magazines about how neat the Internet is with creating web pages for home businesses. But do me and the rest of the web community a favor when you're considering it... **HIRE SOMEONE ELSE TO DESIGN YOUR WEB SITE FOR YOU** I don't care if all your childhood memories of Star Trek and Lost In Space have convinced you that using a computer is easy. I don't care how "user friendly" each new operating system is. (Side note: Just because it's prettier looking, doesn't mean it doesn't require training to use.) I don't care how much money you've invested in software or hardware. If you haven't read any books and/or attended classes in web design - don't bother. I know you think anything creative is easy (after all: art = play, play = easy, right?). And in turn you think that by having an "easy to use" computer at your side it makes you a nigh virtuoso. But guess what? Anyone even remotely interested in your services is going to be turned off when they see that the web page for your business has all the professional flair of a 14-year old's MySpace account. (Nothing brings in the proles like animated backgrounds and streaming music.) There are literally thousands of freelance designers who have been consigned to menial jobs because you thought spending thousands of dollars on equipment and software made you an instant web expert. (And to the lady who was so old that she had to have someone else relay my instructions on speakerphone: Back away from the computer before you hurt someone.)

Good grief

poweredbyatari — Fri, 16 Nov 2007 18:53:21 GMT

I present the biography of Charles Schulz, as distilled by 11 Peanuts comics: http://www.slate.com/id/2177964/nav/ais/

Aaron's Board Of Bad, Vol. 65

poweredbyatari — Fri, 16 Nov 2007 16:40:04 GMT

Fitzcarraldo (1982) Starring: Klaus Kinski, Jose Lewgoy, Miguel Angel Fuentes, Paul Hittscher, Huerequeque Enriqu Bohorguez First, the Lowdown: A man of limited means is determined to build an opera house in the Peruvian jungle. Brian Sweeney Fitzgerald has a vision. Initially sent to Peru to oversee the building of its railroad, he was forced to find work in order to earn money. But beyond all of that is his love of the opera. Upon hearing that Enrico Caruso is playing at the opera house in Manaus, Brian speeds down the river as fast as he could, only to have his engine break down after the curtain rises. Brian and his girlfriend, Molly, plead with the footman to let them in – he does, with the insistence that they remain at the back and not say anything. They arrive just as the finale reaches his climax during which Caruso gestures at him on his final note. Brian sees it as a sign to finally build his dream, “Fitzcarraldo” an opera house set in the jungle. Returning back to the city of Iquitos, Brian plays his gramophone for his audience: a flock of native children and their pet pig. His only means of income is making ice – an industry that he sees a future in, but unfortunately no one else does. Brian implores to Don Aquilino, a local rubber baron, to help him apply for a patent so that he can make ice industrially (and finance his opera house), but Aquilino scoffs at the idea. Infuriated, Brian barricades himself in the town's church until they agree to build an opera house. The police take a dim view of his method of petition and lock him up Brian's stay in jail is cut down from two weeks to two days because his audience, the children, had been spending all of their time praying for him outside the jail. Moved by this display, the police chief has him released. Once out he plans to host a party with Molly. Molly runs the local bordello and makes sure that her ladies are always clean and cater to the upper class, so it should be no trouble to get the local industrialists to arrive. At the party, he talks further with Don Aquilino, who seems obsessed with the idea of losing money. Aquilino isn't so desperate to get rid of his fortune to just give Brian the financing he needs, but is very envious of how Brian was bankrupted by the railroad project. Brian's plan to woo the gentry with his gramophone is derailed, however, and he is mocked by them. Aquilino owns a giant portion of property, where his men harvest latex to make rubber. But there is a portion that has yet to be exploited because it is inaccessible by steamship due to rapids – and also crosses through the territory of some overly cautious natives. Brian borrows money from Molly and uses it to buy the unclaimed territory and a ship. Aquilino helps him assemble a crew. The major reason why the plot of land Brian purchased had gone unclaimed is that there is no way to get a boat to the nearby trading river. However, Brian intends to boat down the river, and move the ship over a small finger of land (that's mostly a mountain) to access that area. This movie has been compared a lot with Coppola's “Apocalypse Now.” Most especially because they shared the same problems with casting, locations, and crew. (Some of the crew had been called away to fight in a war with the Colombians.) The production is lush, and much of it is shot beautifully. Kinski does his usual bug-eyed crazy man routine through the film, yet manages not to leave teethmarks on the scenery. My major problem with the film is its pacing. Quite honestly, I think this is one of the few occasions where a movie could have benefited from less detail rather than more. Many of the shots are lovely, but the linger too long – almost as if director Herzog lost his train of thought as he was shooting them. Another movie that “Fitzcarraldo” has been compared to is Herzog's own “Aguirre, the Wrath of God.” And they share many elements there as well: a madman takes upon a Sisyphean task in the middle of the jungle, enlists in a crew that share that vision, and ultimately loses everything. Personally, I think a better film would have been made if Herzog didn't get so hung up on the scenery. Line of the movie: “The reality of your world is nothing more than a rotten caricature of great opera.” Three stars. Stop picking at it.

For a certain someone

poweredbyatari — Tue, 13 Nov 2007 20:09:28 GMT

If you want a lover I'll do anything you ask me to And if you want another kind of lover I'll wear a mask for you If you want a partner Take my hand Or if you want to strike me down in anger Here I stand I'm your man If you want a boxer I will step into the ring for you And if you want a doctor I'll examine every inch of you If you want a driver Climb inside Or if you want to take me for a ride You know you can I'm your man Ah, the moon's too bright The chain's too tight The beast won't go to sleep I've been running through these promises to you That I made and I could not keep Ah but a man never got a woman back Not by begging on his knees Or I'd crawl to you baby And I'd fall at your feet And I'd howl at your beauty Like a dog in heat And I'd claw at your heart And I'd tear at your sheet I'd say please, please I'm your man And if you've got to sleep A moment on the road I will steer for you And if you want to work the street alone I'll disappear for you If you want a father for your child Or only want to walk with me a while Across the sand I'm your man "I'm Your Man" by Leonard Cohen

Prayer of Fortune, Part 2.

poweredbyatari — Sat, 10 Nov 2007 08:51:57 GMT

"If it weren't for bad luck, I wouldn't have luck at all!" goes the refrain. Well, that's true and it's not. In my point of view luck is merely a connecting force of the universe. People call it by many names: fate, karma, ki, Kundalini, will, etc. It's always there and has a genuine effect on our lives, it's just that it's difficult to see it as a constant force when aren't in a receptive frame of mind. Luck doesn't play favorites - it doesn't single on person out for favor or punishment: it just is. The idea of good and bad luck really is something that we as human beins put upon it in order to contextualize it. But, no matter the context - it's still luck. Consider the following: You and another person are applying for a job. Both of your resumes are outstanding, and you're both pretty evenly matched for the position. Phone interviews have gone fine, and a preliminary face-to-face has been favorable for each of you. So the prospective employer calls you both in for a second interview, but your competetiion can't make it because the came down with the flu. You interview before that person does and you shine so brilliantly during it that they offer you the job right there. So, in your context: you just had good luck by getting a job. But in thatt other person's context, they had bad luck because they missed an interview due to being sick. And that's the key: it's all about the circumstances (or context) that you are in. Really, you haven't lost any connection to the ever present force of the Universe (luck), but you r conscious mind rather tries to contextualize it so taht it can better understand it. One other thing that tends to throw us for a loop is the fact that we often think that luck is inconsistent because it's not linear. Again, that has to deal with our forebrain trying to reckon with a rather esoteric idea. Ever have something completely unexpected come at you from out of nowhere? That's precisely what I'm talking about. Luck isn't a stream, or river, or channel. It's not even a cloud or a haze. It's like the air we breathe, it's always there and nothing we can do will change it. Another stumbling factor is that many times we get impatient waiting for luck to benefit our context. Luck will always benefit us, it just may not do so currently. We have to be willing to wait for it and be persistent in our actions. Every failure brings us one step closer to success.

What I ain't got.

poweredbyatari — Fri, 09 Nov 2007 21:17:12 GMT

Beyond all of the apparent derision and contempt I may have for the customers I work for at my job; beyond all of the vitriol and loathing I have for the situations they've brought themselves to; beyond the annoyance I have when I teach someone a skill they really needed to know prior to using a computer professionally; beyond all of that and more is one single emotion that serves as the inspiration for the above behavior and much more... ... And that is jealousy. Whenever I get a call from someone who is being paid $7500 to make a DVD, but doesn't know how to right-click; when someone tells me that they just got hired to manage graphics for their company, but can't open the application without assistance; when someone tells me "I got a client waiting for me to do this" and they don't know how to even turn the computer on - I wonder how these people managed to get hired doing something I want to be doing, and I haven't.

Prayer of Fortune

poweredbyatari — Thu, 08 Nov 2007 19:00:42 GMT

For those of you out there who don't have frequent contact with me, I've become a card-sharp as of late. It started with a weekly poker game my coworker set up at his house, and now it's become a semi-obsession. I've been consuming the game en masse, and thanks to the plethora of FREE outlets available both locally and on the internet, I don't have to worry about putting any monetary risk into this hobby. (So you guys won't be hearing about me losing my rent money to unscrupulous characters anytime soon.) A common trap that people will fall into with this game (and many other money-based games) is that "beating" the game is akin to "winning" it - that somehow by practicing enough at the game, you'll find that magic trick that suddenly makes everything work in your favor and makes the casino's felt table an instant money generator. (This is a myth that ALL casinos bank on, by the way.) Unfortunately the two concepts, winning the game and beating it, aren't one and the same. If anything they run together like paralell sine waves at different frequencies: occasionally they come close, sometimes they intersect, but more often enough "beating" and "winning" are divergent from each other. I have to admit that I got caught in this pitfall early on - there would be times I'd come home frustrated and thinking "I've been poring over book after book about poker, but I still haven't come out a winner." It was getting to the point where the idea of attaining a mastery of the game was starting to suck the fun out of it. Fortunately I did what anyone should do when they're caught in that scenario - I backed off and reassessed why I really wanted to play it and what really attracts it to me to begin with. It wasn't the idea of attaining easy riches (ask any pro player out there and they will tell you that winning a tournament is anything but easy, no matter how many free drinks you get), it wasn't the idea of a poker "image" (yeah, being a card expert is kinda cool in a James Bond way, but it's not that cool), and it wasn't the assumption that by domineering a competition game it somehow made me a better person than anyone else. What attracted me about the game of poker is that unlike most other casino games that I can think of that are strictly stat-based (blackjack comes to mind), poker has an overriding human element that balances it out. And this is where the concepts of "beating" and "winning" differ: winning a game focuses only on the end result of a game without considering the nature of it. A lot of people who go out to "win" a game do so with the idea that they can do so by simpling knowing a handful of rules and statistics. (They also are under the false assumption that by knowing the odds of a game, it somehow automatically puts them in their favor.) "Beating" a game required the player to take a more holistic viewpoint to his play. Knowing the odds of drawing a particular kind of poker hand is one thing, but knowing how your other players are going to bet with that hand is something entirely different. Statistics won't tell you how to react if the guy next to you is drunk and starts betting inconsistency; they don't tell you whether or not the newbie at the table is really bluffing for the thrill of bluffing (all new players try this at least once) or if he really DOES have that extra ace in his hand; they don't factor in someone who bets all-in to force people out of their blinds; and stats certainly don't tell you how likely someone is going to go "full-tilt" during a game (or if at all). Winning a game relies almost solely on luck, often to the ignorance of the risk factor involved. How many times have you heard of a new player winning big at a casino one day, only to wind up in the hole the next? It's because winning the game (getting more chips than anyone else) was more focal to beating the game. The biggest paradox I've found with this game is that it is possible to beat the game without winning it (and vice-versa). Picture the following scenario: You've put in $1000 dollars to play blackjack. After a while of playing you notice that you just aren't on your game - a few small wins, but mostly losses - so you cash out with only $500 left. Guess what? You've just beaten the game without winning. When you're playing against the house, the last thing they want to see you do is leave a table with chips in your hand. So even though you technically lost $500, you still beat the house by having the self-control to just get up and get while the getting's good. (An aside here, casinos hope that when you DO win, you'll be caught up in the inertia of the moment to play even more, so that when you lose you find yourself more and more desperate to get back to that profit point you were briefly at. This is precisely why they have that "not to be used for investment purposes" disclaimer.) If after any competition you are able step back and objectively ask yourself "What went right? What went wrong? What can I do to change next time?" you've beaten the game. If you can pick up a shift in a game's momentum and either consciously decide to ride it out or step back, you've beaten the game. Any time you find yourself saying "It's cool that I got first place, but I have no idea how I did so," you've merely won it and it's gotten you nowhere. In fact, more often than not it may have done you more harm than good because you can't tell what really was good playing and what was chance. (The ability to tell the difference comes with experience and a simple desire to play objectively.) One thing I've done to help alleviate the "agony of defeat" is to integrate it into my spirituality. "Wait a minute," I hear you saying, "There's nothing spiritual about gambling. When you get down to it, it's all about the acquisition of wealth, right?" Well that's true and it isn't. Saying that there isn't any way of putting something into a spiritual context is like saying that you can jump into water without getting wet. When you boil it down EVERYTHING is spiritual, you just need to think about it that way. Still not convinced? Consider the following: The ancient Romans worshiped the goddess Fortuna (where we get the word "fortune" from), a young maiden who was often blindfolded and bearing either a Horn of Plenty or a wheel (the wheel of fortune) and bestowed luck. However, Fortuna represented luck in its purest sense - both good and bad - her blindfolded eyes were representative of her impartiality to the fates. Those devoted to her realized that Fortune could be benificial or fatal. In this, it was accepted that bad luck was just as much a sign of divine connection as good. Because she was impartial, there really wasn't a such thing as sin in her eyes - the same form of luck flowed to both the just and unjust, helping or hindering them all the same. I think that the more we consider that we are ALWAYS in the presence of fortune, wonderful things will occur.

Random lines and squiggles.

poweredbyatari — Wed, 31 Oct 2007 19:12:42 GMT

When I was in fourth grade my favorite thing to do when I was bored was to study the Merriam-Webster Collegiate dictionary. It contained not only the definition and description of words and phrases, but also charts for specific topics - like weights and measures. My two favorite charts were for "symbol", which gave a list of varying symbols for mathematic, grammatic, and scientific use; and "alphabet" which listed five examples: English, Greek, Hebrew, Arabic, and Russian. What I liked about the alphabets is that they provided me with an alternate means of spelling my name. "Aaron" became "Αρον" in Greek or "Арон" Cyrillic. It was much like a code - I didn't really know those languages, so the best I could do was write things out phonetically. (Which sometimes presented a problem - English as a language has a lot of vowel-based convolutions.) The symbols were equally fascinating for me - I was intrigued by the idea that a specific concept could be summarized by a simple icon. Things like calculous functions, measurements in physics, geologic attributes - all beyond my learning at the time, yet all distilled down to a base character. Symbols and cyphers have always intrigued me for some reason or another. There are times when I'll watch a sci-fi movie and be more interested in the signage and symbology of a panel of instruments rather than the scene that's playing. And what point I started out with this discourse into my early interest in semiotics is now lost.

But will it help my lumbar?

poweredbyatari — Wed, 31 Oct 2007 14:34:07 GMT

I totally want one of these: http://www.xkcd.com/335/

On the button.

poweredbyatari — Tue, 30 Oct 2007 13:04:55 GMT

In the pursuit of improving my self-esteem I have come to the following assessment. Unlike before, I no longer have a problem with my appearance - I no longer feel freakishly huge, malformed, or otherwise uncomely. I can confidently look at myself in the mirror without wincing, and I have begun to take a certain amount of pride in my appearance and manner of dress. Physically I know I'm not absolutely stellar (I can't see myself as a Calvin Klein billboard just yet) - I also don't think I'm hideous and repulsive. So hooray for me, that's one obstacle that I think I have a good grasp on. My current problem is shaking the feeling that I'm a loser. I hate taking chances, and the main reason I don't like to do so is the ever incessant feeling that no matter how much effort I put into the attempt, it will fail. Not only just fail, but in a fantastically catastrophic fashion. For example: you're walking to your bus stop and you see it waiting, so you run up and board it in the nick of time (or you just miss it, but you wait patiently for the next one.) In my mind, not only will I miss that bus - but I'll probably be berated by a truckload of fratboys who make fun of my lack of physical ability to overtake a multi-ton vehicle on foot, and then proceed to lob beer bottles at me while questioning my sexual orientation before peeling off in their pick-up truck, Pantera a-blazin' on their radio. (Okay, maybe I'm exagerrating just a tad with that example, but I think you get the picture.) Yeah, zero-confidence in the outcome of any risk is a real booster to my morale, I can tell you. And obviously it leads to the circular argument of "If nothing you attempt will turn out right, why bother doing anything?" Which is a very good question to be sure, and one I can't really answer. I guess what I can honestly say is that there are times when I forget to listen to that part of me when I take a chance on something - only to have that something blow up in my face and have the loser-mind part of me perk up and say "I told you so." It's not healthy to look at something and say "that's never going to work for me." I need to upgrade my opinion to something more like "let's give this a shot and see what happens." In Larry Phillips' "The Tao Of Poker" (http://www.amazon.com/Tao-Poker-Rules-Transform-Your/dp/1580628370/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/105-6554915-0674031?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1193688799&sr=8-1 ) he points out: "Players always remember the bad beats more than they do the big wins." Ask any regular poker player out there and they can tell you story after story where they thought they had a good hand only to get outplayed or outdrawn. But ask him to tell you a story when he was the only one raking in chips on the table and he will be hard pressed. I'm in a similar situation, I've become so blinded by my losses that it's difficult to see my wins, and I know they're out there.

Say the name.

poweredbyatari — Fri, 26 Oct 2007 15:33:14 GMT

I'm of half a mind to change my name once I start making it big in film. People do it all the time - either to make their name more recognizable (Sigourney Weaver's original name was Susan Weaver) or simply because it fits with the image that they're trying to represent (John Wayne was born Marion Morrison). Renaming oneself is a practice that's as old as time - both the ancient and modern monarchs and popes will choost a reignal name once they have ascended to the height of the throne. Modern musicians will change their season wardrobe (I'm looking at you, Diddy), which makes me wonder what effect that has on their record sales. Hell, even adult entertainers choose a screen name, probably more for anonymity than anything else. (It's kinda hard to stalk someone if you're only info about them is the name "Sugar Lips") So, I need a new name. Something that exudes authority and yet sounds sexy and marketable. Something that looks good on a letterhead. Something that sounds good at an awards ceremony. Names are powerful - they convey control. I want to have the able to crush people by the mere uttering of my name. i want people's realities to be shattered by reading it. I want mountains to move and seas to boil with it. I want to drop my name angrily and have people lose bladder control. Ah, fuck it. I think I'll just keep it the same.