When needing a little space
July 30th, 2006 at 11:22 pm ()
Sometimes when you need a little space, it’s best to wear a t-shirt that reads “No I contact”.
On being called “Crazy”
July 30th, 2006 at 11:20 pm ()
Psychosis and genius go hand in hand. It is that same ability to extend one’s brain beyond the scope of human thought necessary to achieve the mental leaps that often characterize genius that can as easily be perceived by those protectors of good mental health as an excellent reason to apply electricity to the frontal lobes.
It is also a fact of despair in this culture that passion — true consuming passion — is seen as a mental illness. There is no genius without passion and thus, to the retarded subhumans who play at diagnosis, there is no genius without mental illness.
An even sadder fact, if it were not so prevalent in the species, is the tendency to fear the unknown and to not accept it. A genius might be pointed out, as an example, to have a really shitty personal life, or be divorced three times, or be (gasp!) a closet homosexual. Although being lost in a strange city is extremely common (and would be surprising in its absence, in fact), many people took considerable and unpleasantly vicious humor in the fact that a group of Mensa members were lost in a foreign city. Would their scorn have been as acidic if the group had been ordinary folks? Tourists?
When we are confronted by an intellectual, emotional, or physical characteristic that exceeds us, perhaps even approaching superhuman, our desire to find a counterbalance increases concomitantly. This is not, obviously, a reflection of the fact that geniuses are “just ordinary humans”, but I suspect more a case of our own feelings of inadequacy manifesting in an extremely common manner.
Me, I’d take it as a compliment.
“4:20″
July 28th, 2006 at 11:03 pm ()
I glance at the clock and I see it’s 4:20.
And I wonder if there is anyone who doesn’t read an ad or a request or a comment that refers to “4:20″ and not think “pot”.
I mean, there’s absolutely nothing hidden when someone says “I need a traveling buddy, but they must be 4:20 friendly.” Is this an attempt to fool the authorities? They already know! What if it fools the traveling companion. What if they think that you have a medical condition and that they must drive at 4:20 every day. What if they think “4:20″ is some kind of freaky sex act and although they sure don’t mind someone toking up on occasion, they definitely don’t want nothing to do with no oily weasels and leather-flavored Pop-Tarts — or whatever they think “4:20″ means. So here, the use of “4:20″ could actually cause you to lose a great traveling companion. Of course, that’s one less person that gets busted when the cops — who do know what “4:20″ means, nail your sorry ass.
Might as well just say “pot” instead of “4:20″. Saves a character, is easier to spell, easier to type, and less prone to misunderstandings. It’s the natural solution.
But WHY?!
July 25th, 2006 at 11:39 pm ()
I was trying to figure out one day why people did what they did. Then I had a revelation that I am trying on for size:
In general, people do whatever they want. Then they work out a justification for it.
Soft focus
July 20th, 2006 at 11:37 pm ()
Why is it, I wonder, that we are more gentle with those we love than we are with ourselves under the same circumstances.
It seems tragic.
Lisa Arliene Box
July 18th, 2006 at 11:30 pm ()
This is what it says:
PICAYUNE — Services are at 2 p.m. Tuesday, July 18, at Roseland Park Baptist Church for Lisa Arliene Box, 35, of Picayune, who died Thursday, July 13, 2006, in Slidell, La.
Bro. Dan Young officiates at the service. Arrangements are under the direction of Picayune Funeral Home.
A native of Little Rock, Ark., she was an employee of Millbrook Country Club.
Survivors include her father, Joseph Box of Dallas, Ga.; her mother, Kathy Doland of Picayune; her husband, Wilbur “Chad” Byrd of Picayune; a son, Bradley Davis Lynwood Byrd of Picayune; three daughters, Valerie Kathleen Byrd, Angel Lee Byrd and Gabriella Elaine Byrd, all of Picayune, and a sister, Robin Lianne Sanford of Dallas, GA.
In lieu of flowers, the family requests contributions to the Lisa Box Memorial Fund at Hancock Bank.
This is what it doesn’t say:
Lisa Box broke the laws of Physics by having a heart actually larger than her body. Her heart crossed the world, electronically. She had people who loved her across the United States, in Europe, Australia, New Zealand, everywhere. If anyone was loved off-planet, it was probably Lisa Box. She was insightful, brilliant, passionate, irreverent, wonderful, bizarre, direct, gentle, and loving. There are no words to describe how the world has grown darker with her passing, how the collective heart of her other family skipped a beat in disbelief to learn of this terrible event. It is what it is, however impossible to imagine, and thus, in the chords of the hum of the good people, one string has been stilled and is silent. It all sounds different now.
Lisa was my friend, a co-conspirator, a confidant, a co-dawn-watcher, and a lover. All of this spread across five years. The latter the past two. I like to think that in these years, we covered more ground than some people ever do, acted as profound catalysts in each others lives, and changed things in each other that no one had changed before.
Social Tip #5
July 12th, 2006 at 11:29 pm ()
Learn the difference between “lucrative” and “ludicrous” before entering into any substantial financial negotiation.
Social Tip #4
July 12th, 2006 at 11:29 pm ()
When the potential romantic partner tells you they are crazy, believe it. They’re crazy.
When they tell you “I’m not good enough for you,” they aren’t.
Evacuate.
A Sense of Direction
July 12th, 2006 at 11:27 pm ()
There are times when we feel wobbly. Lost, confused, distracted, dazed. No amount of character or personality will help us in these times. Friends can’t help, family can’t help. Only one thing can help and if we don’t have that one thing, we remain adrift and lost.
That one thing is a compass.
A compass can be a book or an idea or a person or a mantra, or a bauble from our past. A compass can be whatever will hold meaning for us. Our compass is where we keep our secret heart, if you will, the place where we can always look to see where we were heading, where we wanted to go. No matter how turned around we get, our compass will always point us back onto the path.
It’s probably a good thing we can’t get them out of Cracker-Jacks anymore.
Messing with Reality, part 1
July 11th, 2006 at 11:25 pm ()
While it is very unfortunate that Syd Barrett passed away this morning, the BBC’s new tendency to allow you to contribute to the news and to add personal observations leaves me with no stronger desire than to write in and claim:
Yes, I have a Syd Barrett story! Mr. Barrett met me as I was wandering near his home late one night. I was terrified and afraid and struggling with being alone in a foreign country where everybody sounded Australian, but didn’t like admitting it. And Mr. Barrett, he says “Oh, you look a mess. Here.” and laid his hands upon my head and my anxiety was healed and went the way of the dodo and a balanced US budget. Syd Barrett healed me. Healed me!
Perhaps I should not be allowed to create the news, only point to it.
On the other hand, we’ve seen the astounding lack of utility intelligent discourse offers. Perhaps we shall find salvation in the non-sequitur.
Social Tip #3
July 10th, 2006 at 11:25 pm ()
Most of the time, you can learn a lot in the first forty minutes of any party by quietly watching and listening from nearby the main source of food.
Plus, you get to eat.
Social Tip #2
July 10th, 2006 at 11:24 pm ()
When undressing for someone, try to arrange such that the pants are last off and first on. It’s a combination of anticipation and aesthetics. Not always, but most of the time.
Social Tip #1
July 10th, 2006 at 11:23 pm ()
If plain ol’ water tastes sweet to you — brush your teeth.
Why spelling is important
Some mistakes are simply a result of misunderstanding very fast speech.
For example, I never could understand why everyone was so jazzed about leper skin bikinis.
I mean, euuw.
Fear
Strange and amazing, “fear”. I should know better, but I am constantly amazed at how many major life decisions people make based almost exclusively on fear. Minor decisions as well, but the big ones are the ones that surprise me.
My sister once asked me what I thought the strongest human emotion was and I answered almost immediately: “fear”. She countered with “love”. I said that “love” was very powerful, yes, and often seemed to be a factor in small-scale decisions, but “fear” was almost always there and was a factor in decisions small and large. Fears can drive people, families, neighborhoods, cities, countries, and nations to places they might otherwise never consider going. Fear makes us do things. Fear makes us not do things.
Did “love” cause the Cold War? 
It’s fascinating to read a paper, or watch the news, or listen to conversations and observe just how much of what we do is driven by fears. Fear of losing something valuable. Fear of getting sick. Fear of losing respect. Fear of the unknown. Fear of a lawsuit.
Some of these might be legit fears, and I’m not about to suggest one banishes all fear, but the pervasiveness of fear is just astonishing.
Secrecy
When you invoke secrecy, you create power. This power is rarely usable by you and rarely usable to benefit you. So be thoughtful before creating it.
Your ass will thank you later.
“Well, it doesn’t LOOK like a propaganda tool…”
What good would a propaganda tool be if you could tell it was a propaganda tool?
Snakes! In a box!
I’m rather disappointed to realize that I have never seen a snake-shaped animal cracker.
After a bit of investigating, I discover that although cobras were up for it, they were voted down in favor of koalas.
Alligators, too, never made it.
Turtles? Lizards?
What have these guys got against reptiles?
Paranoia ‘a widespread problem’
According to the BBC online a surprisingly large number of people are under the impression that they are being targeted by other people, by conspiracies, and, well, perhaps even Elvis’s Little Green Army.
At least I don’t feel so alone now.